“Then he has begun now; every wickedness must have a start. He has started with my daughter. I knew that he meant no good. I warned her—God knows that I warned her, not once, but twice—every time that I’d a chance of words with her. It wasn’t often of late; she had a way of stalking out of the room every time that I opened my lips to warn her against him.”
“Mr. Wadhurst, you are mistaken. I feel certain that you are mistaken,” she cried. “What object could he have in carrying out so shocking a scheme? There was no obstacle in the way of their marriage. I had received Priscilla as a daughter.”
He smiled. “Mothers know nothing of the ways of their sons,” he said. “I’ve known some that looked on their sons as saints, when all the time——”
“I don’t care what you knew,” she said. “I know my son, and let me add that I also know your daughter—apparently I know her a good deal better than you ever knew her. Don’t behave like a fool Mr. Wadhurst. Don’t waste your time in this foolish way—every moment may be precious. Priscilla may have gone to pay another visit; but on the other hand, something may have happened to her. She may be in danger. One reads of such things in the papers, never fancying that they may one day happen to our own friends—in our own families. No time should be lost in making enquiries. I will telegraph to my son, and you may be sure that he will do his best—he will know what should be done. He would be distracted at the thought that she is in danger.”
Mr. Wadhurst smiled more bitterly than before. “In danger! She has been in danger from the first moment she set eyes upon him. An evil hour it was—an evil hour. What have I done that these evils should fall upon me?” He had turned away from the lady, and was standing with his hand clenched over the crumpled telegram as if he was addressing the carved satyrs’ heads on the stone vases that stood on the piers of the balustrade. “What have I done that these things should happen to me?” He seemed to have an idea that Providence kept books on a proper system of double entry, and every now and again, by the aid of a competent staff of recording angels, posted up the ledgers and struck balances. Farmer Wadhurst could not understand how, if this was done systematically, he should be so badly treated. He believed that he had still a large balance to his credit.
“Don’t waste any more time; it may be precious,” suggested the lady again; and he turned upon her with an expression of fierceness.
“I’ll take your advice,” he cried. “I’ll not waste any more time. I’ll find her—and him—and him. I know where to look for her; wherever he be, she’ll be there too. I’ll go to her—and him.”
“And I’ll go with you,” she said, rising. “I’ll go with you to Sandycliffe, and he will, I know, confide in me. He is certain to know where she is to be found; but if he does not, he will know what should be done. He would be distracted if anything were to happen to her.”
He seemed to be startled by the suggestion. He looked at her for several seconds; then his eyes fell.
“You think that I mean to kill him?” he said in a low voice.