"'Now look you!' said my brother, 'you may talk
Till weary of the talk.' I answer, 'Ay,
There's reason in your words; and you may talk
Till I go on to say, This should be so.'"
Jean Ingelow.
"Thank heaven, I have five thousand a-year," repeated Queenie, as she drew the rocking-chair to the hearth and sat down by her solitary fireside. "For the first time I am really glad in my heart to be rich."
Any unseen spectator would have marvelled what thoughts possessed this girl. Queenie's brow was knitted as though with perplexity, and yet a radiant smile hovered round her lips.
"It is difficult, far more difficult than I thought it at first," she soliloquized. "There is a complication that prevents me seeing my way clear, but if I sit here until morning I will find out what is the right thing to be done.
"I wonder what Langley must have thought of me," she went on. "I must have seemed so cold and unsympathizing. How could they know what kept me so silent? Why, it needed all my strength of mind to refrain from crying out, 'I am rich; I can give you all, and more than you want, if you love me; let me share some of my good things with you.' I wanted to fall on her neck and say some such words as these; but second thoughts are the best, and I knew I must be prudent.
"And then when he talked to me my secret seemed to choke me then. Oh, how my cheeks burnt in the darkness! how I longed to say to him, 'Do not be unhappy; there is no cause for despair. I have more than I know how to spend; let me be your creditor and advance you the sum you need. What are a few hundreds to me who have five thousand a-year? Let me prove my friendship for you and yours by rendering you this trifling service.' That is what I should have liked to have done, but I knew him too well. Would he have taken it from me? Alas, no! He would have turned round with that high manner of his and upbraided me for my foolish mystery. In spite of his wretchedness he would have taken me to task, and put things in such a light that he would have made me ashamed of myself, and then he would quietly refuse my offer. Would he accept this thing from the girl who a few months back was a stranger to him? No; a thousand times, no; but his embarrassment and discomfort would make him suspicious. He would be vexed with me for my silence, mortified by my importunity, and in his trouble I should be less to him than I am now."
Queenie's secret predilection for Garth Clayton was making her timid. It had come to this, that nothing on earth could have induced her to offer him this money; she would have been as shame-faced and tongue-tied in his presence as a child just discovered in a fault. The silent understanding that was between them was too vague and unsatisfactory a basis for her to presume on; the word that was to give her the right and privilege of spoken sympathy had not yet been uttered, might never be. Mahomet's bridge is not more slender than this vague connection between two hearts that beat in sympathy and yet are asunder. Over the sacred abyss of silence hangs the invisible chain; it is strong enough to bear myriads of heavenly visitants, but only the eye of the faithful may discern it. To how many remain only the void and the mystery!
When a sensible person makes a mistake they are almost sure to repent it at some time or other. Queenie, who was as healthy-minded and straightforward as any pious, well-conducted young person could be, had yet fallen into the error of supposing that she might deviate into a by-path of romance and unreality without causing any great disturbance in her little world, while, in point of fact, she was only raising difficulties for herself. If she had gone to Garth Clayton and acknowledged the truth with all the eloquence of which she had been capable he would have been charmed with her naïveté and frankness, and treated the whole matter as a girlish whim. Her perfect honesty would in time have reconciled him to her heiress-ship. True, it was highly probable that he might have rejected the loan, and given her plenty of trouble on that score. She might have had to experience the grief of seeing him refuse her aid and struggle on alone and single-handed: but such men as Garth Clayton rarely get their heads under water for long. He would have moved heaven and earth rather than this girl to help him, and in the end would have attained to some fair measure of success; and, while things were at this low ebb with him, he would have vexed himself and her by imposing a barrier of reserve and coldness on himself. Queenie would have been made to suffer for those riches of hers. He would have pointedly assigned to her the place she must hold in the future—a friendship not too close or intimate. If the girl's faithfulness could have served this rough apprenticeship, and she could have meekly acceded to these hard conditions, his man's heart must have spoken at last, and broken down all barriers between them.
After all, there is nothing like truth, pure, straightforward truth, especially to men of Garth's calibre, who was a foe to all mystery, and disposed to treat such things somewhat harshly. But Queenie's foolish whim had ensnared her, and there was no freeing her feet from the meshes. One thing was clear to her, Garth must have the money at once.
And so the young intriguer set her brains to work. How was she to put this sum in his hands? how could she negotiate the loan so that it could not fail of acceptance? At first she proposed starting off to Carlisle and seeking Caleb Runciman's aid; she could twist Caleb round her little finger and make him do as she wanted. Should she concoct a letter and get the old man to copy it in his shaky handwriting? Only Emmie knew those crabbed, feeble characters, and she was never likely to see the letter. What could she say? and here Queenie got a pencil and paper and scrawled a rough draft.