“Such things take their time,” said Mr. Cresswell, devoting all his attention to screening himself from the fire. “How you ladies can bear cooking yourselves up so, on this mild day, I cannot understand! I can hear you perfectly, Miss Mortimer, thank you; your voice is as distinct as it always was, though, unfortunately not the same tone. What a voice your sister used to have, to be sure!—went through people’s hearts like a bell.”
This was addressed to me, in the idea of being able to wriggle out of the conversation altogether. It is my conviction he had not taken a single step in the matter of Richard Mortimer; but if he thought he could shake off Sarah’s inquiries so, he deceived himself. She never was, all her life, to be turned from her own way.
“It is sometime now since we instructed you on this subject,” said Sarah. “If you have not made any discovery, at least you can tell us what you are doing. Milly, there, like a fool, does not care. She talks of Providence dropping us an heir at our door,—a foundling, I suppose, with its name on a paper pinned to its frock,” said Sarah, growing rather excited, and turning an angry look on me.
To my astonishment Mr. Cresswell also looked at me; his was a guilty, conscious, inquiring look. What strange creatures we all are! This shrewd lawyer, far from thinking that Sarah’s words referred to any mysterious trouble or derangement in her own mind, took them up, knowing his own thoughts, with all the quickness of guilt, to refer to Sara! He thought we had probably had a quarrel about leaving her our heiress; that I had stood up for her, and Sarah had opposed it. So he turned his eyes to me to see if I would make any private telegraphic communication to him of the state of affairs. And when he found nothing but surprise in my eyes, turned back a little disappointed, but quite cool and ready to stand to his arms, though he had failed of this mark.
“The truth is, there is nothing so easy as finding an heir. I’ll ensure you to hunt him up from the backwoods, or China, or anywhere in the world. There’s a fate connected with heirs,” said Mr. Cresswell, pleasantly, “whether one wants them or not they turn up with all their certificates in their pocket-books! Ah! they’re a long-lived, sharp-sighted race; they’re sure to hear somehow when they’re wanted. Don’t be afraid—we’ll find him, sure enough. If you had made up your minds to disown him, and shut him out, he’d turn up all the same.”
“Milly,” cried Sarah suddenly, with her little shriek of passion, all so unexpected and uncalled for that I fairly jumped from the table I was standing at, and had nearly overturned her screen on the top of her, “what do you mean by that fixed look at me? How dare you look so at me? Did I speak of disowning any one? Richard Mortimer, when he’s found, shall have the park that moment, if I lived a dozen years after it. Nobody shall venture, so long as I live, to cast suspicious looks at me!”
I declare, freely, I was unconscious of looking at her as though I had been a hundred miles away at the moment! I stood perfectly still, gaping with consternation and amazement. Such an unwarranted, unexpected accusation, fairly took away my breath. Mr. Cresswell, accustomed to observe people, was startled, and woke up from those dreams of his own which clouded his eyesight in this particular case. He looked at her keenly for a moment, then, turned with a rapid question in his eyes to me; he seemed to feel in a moment there was somehow some strange new element in the matter. But, of course, I had no answer to make to him, either with voice or eyes.
“I was not looking at you at all, Sarah,” faltered I. “I was not looking at anything in particular. Nobody is going to be disowned, that I know of. Nobody is seeking our property, that I know of,” I said again involuntarily, my eye turning with a kind of stupid consciousness, the very last feeling in the world which I wished or intended to show, upon Mr. Cresswell, who was quite watching my looks to see what this little episode meant.
He coloured up in a moment. He stumbled up from his chair, looking very much confused. He dared not pretend to know what I meant, nor show himself conscious, even that I had looked at him. He went across the room to the window, looked out, and came back again. It was odd to see such a man, accustomed and trained to conceal his sentiments, so betrayed into showing them. When he sat down again he turned his face to the fire, and almost his back to me. Matters had changed. It appeared I was not such a safe confidante as he had supposed.
“You shall very soon be satisfied about Mr. Richard Mortimer,” he said, looking into the fire. “Don’t be afraid; I am on the scent; you may trust it to me. But, really, I don’t wonder to see Miss Milly take it very reasonably. What do you want with heirs yet? If I had any thoughts of that kind, I should put all my powers in motion to get that little kitten of mine married. If I leave her by herself she will throw away my poor dear beautiful dividends in handfuls. But, somehow, the idea doesn’t oppress me; and, of course, I am older than any lady in existence can be supposed to be. I am——”