Edina: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

Now, in the main, Blase Pellet was not a hard-hearted or vindictive young man. His resentment against Frank Raynor arose from jealousy. Even that resentment, bitter though it was, he did not intend, or wish, to gratify to anything like its full extent. Believing that certain testimony of his could place Frank's neck in jeopardy, he might surely be given credit for holding his tongue. It is true that his caution arose from mixed motives: the dread of exasperating or in any way compromising Rosaline; the dislike to mixing himself up with the doings of that past night; and the genuine horror of bringing any man to so dire a punishment, even though that man were Frank Raynor.

Pondering upon these various doubts and difficulties, and failing to feel reassured upon them in his own mind—or rather upon the result if he moved in the matter—Mr. Pellet went slowly home through the dark and deserted street; and ascended straight to his chamber, which was an attic in the roof. There, he came to an anchor by the side of his low bed in much the same musing attitude that he had sat on the tree-stump, and "thought it out" again.

"Yes, it must be a dream," he decided at length, beginning to take off his coat preparatory to retiring. "There is no other way. I must not say I was there and saw it—they'd turn round upon me and cry, Why did you not tell at the time?—and what could I answer? Moreover, I can't, and I won't bring in Rosaline's name—which I should have to do if I stated the truth outright. But I can say I dreamt that Bell is lying at the bottom of the shaft; and keep up the commotion for a short while. They can't turn round on me for that. Folks do dream, as all the world knows."

With this final resolve, Mr. Blase Pellet retired to bed, to dream real dreams instead of inventing them.

As the days went on at The Mount, the lovers' meetings became more rare. Far from being able to steal out every evening, Margaret found that she could hardly get out at all. She was virtually a prisoner, as far as her evening's liberty was concerned. Either she had to remain in, reading to Lydia, or playing cards with her, or else Mrs. St. Clare would have her in the drawing-room. Upon only half a movement of Daisy's towards the open glass-doors, Mrs. St. Clare would say: "You cannot go out in the evening air, Daisy: I shall have you ill next."

Evening after evening Frank Raynor betook himself to the grounds about The Mount, and lingered in their wilderness, waiting for Daisy. Evening after evening he had to return as he came, without having seen her. But one evening, when his patience was exhausted, and he had taken the first step for departure, Daisy came flying through the trees and fell into his arms.

"I was determined to come," she said, with a nervous catching of the breath. "I am watched, Frank; I am perpetually hindered. Mamma has just gone to her room with a headache, and I ran out. Oh, Frank, this cannot go on. I have so wanted to see you."

"It has been uncommonly hard, I can tell you, Daisy, to come here, one evening after another, and to have to go back as I came."

"This is the first opportunity I have had. It is indeed, Frank. And if that Tabitha should come prying into the drawing-room, as I know she will, and finds me gone out of it, I don't care. No, I don't."

He took her upon his arm and they paced together as formerly. The moon was bright to-night, and flickered through the leaves on to Daisy's head.