“Honour him, sir? Honour the man who deserted me and left me in the mud without a name? It isn’t such fathers as this that the Prayer-book tells us to honour. He is dead, you say, and beyond me; and how can my words touch the dead? But even if they can, could they do him more harm, wherever he is, than he has done to me here? Oh! you do not understand. I could forgive him everything, but I can’t forgive that he should make me go through my life without even knowing his name, or who he was. Had he only left me a kind word, or a letter, I dare say that I could even have loved him, though I never saw him. As it is, I think I hate him, and I hope that one day he will know it.”
As she said these words, Mr. Levinger slowly turned his back upon her and began to look out of the window again, as though he felt himself unable to face the righteous indignation that shone in her splendid eyes.
“Joan Haste,” he said, speaking quietly but with effort, “if you are going to talk in this way I think that we had better bring our interview to an end, as the conversation is painful to me. Once and for all I tell you, that if you are trying to get further information out of me you will fail.”
“I have said my say, sir, and I shall ask you no more questions, except one; but none the less I believe that the truth will come out some time, for others must have known what you know, and perhaps after all my father had a conscience. I’m told that people often see things differently when they come to die, and he may have done so. The question that I want to ask, sir, if you will be so kind as to answer it, is: You knew my father, so I suppose that you knew my mother also, though she’s been dead these twenty years. How did she come by her death, sir? I have heard say that she was drowned, but nobody seems able to tell me any more about it.”
“I believe that your mother was found dead beneath the cliff opposite the meres. How she came there is not known, but it is supposed that she missed her footing in the dark and fell over. The story of her drowning arose from her being found at high tide in the shallow water; but the medical evidence at the inquest showed that death had resulted from a fall, and not from suffocation.”
“My poor mother!” said Joan, with a sigh. “She was unlucky all her life, it seems, so I dare say that she was well rid of it, and her death must have been good news to some. There’s only one thing I’m sorry for—that I wasn’t in her arms when she went over the edge of that cliff. And now, sir, about the business.”
“Yes, about the business,” replied Mr. Levinger, with a hard little laugh; “after so much sentiment it is quite refreshing to come to business, although unfortunately this has its sentimental side also. You must understand, Joan, that the parent whom you are so hard on, and whose agent I chanced to be in bygone years, left me more or less in a fiduciary position as regards yourself—that is to say, he entrusted me with a certain sum of money to be devoted to your education, and generally to your advancement in life, making the proviso that you were not to be brought up as a lady, since, rightly or wrongly, he did not think that this would conduce to your happiness. Well, I have strained the letter of my instructions, and you have had a kind of half-and-half education. Now I think that I should have done better to have held closer to them; for so far as I can judge, the result has been to make you dissatisfied with your position and surroundings. However, that is neither here nor there. You are now of age; the funds at my disposal are practically exhausted; and I desire to wind up my trust by settling you happily in life, if I can do so. You will wonder what I am driving at. I will tell you. I understand that a very worthy farmer, a tenant of mine, who is also a large freeholder—I mean Mr. Samuel Rock—wishes to make you his wife. Is this so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well. Don’t think me rude; but I should be glad to know if you are inclined to fall in with his views.”
“On the whole, sir,” answered Joan composedly, “I think that I would rather follow my mother’s example and walk over the cliff at high tide.”