“He came to say good-bye to me, because——” And then in words the most moving that she could find, words sped from her heart, winged by her love, she explained Clement’s errand, the position at the bank, the crisis, the menace of ruin, the need of help.
The Squire listened, his business instincts aroused, until he grasped her meaning. Then he struck his hand on the table. “And he thought that I should help them!” he cried, with grim satisfaction. “He thought that, did he?” And he would not listen to her protests that it was not Clement, that it was not Clement, it was she who—“He thought that? I see it now, I see it all! But the fool, the fool, to think that! Why, I wouldn’t stretch out my little finger to save his father from hell! And he thought that? He took me for as big a fool as the silly girl he had flattered and lured, and thought he could use, to save them from perdition! As if he had not done me harm enough! As if he hadn’t stolen my daughter from me, he’d steal my purse! Why, he must be the most d—d impudent, cunning thief that ever trod shoe leather. He must be a cock of a pretty hackle, indeed. He should go far, by G—d, with the nerve he has. Far, by G—d! My daughter first and my purse afterwards! This son of an upstart, whose grandfather would have sat in my servants’ hall, he’d steal my——”
“No, no!” she protested.
“Yes, yes! Yes, yes! But he’ll find that he’s not got a girl to deal with now! Help him? Save his bank? Pluck him from the debtors’ prison he’s due to rot in! Why, I’ll see him—in hell first!”
She had risen and moved from him. She was standing on the other side of the table now. “He saved your life!” she cried. And she, too, was changed. She spoke with something of his passion. “He saved your life!” she repeated, and she stamped her foot on the floor.
“Well, the devil thank him for it!” the Squire cried with zest. “And you,” with fresh anger, “do you begone, girl! Get out of my room before you try my patience too far!” He waved his stick at her. “Go, or I’ll call up Calamy and have you put out! Do you hear? Do you hear? You ungrateful, shameless slut! Go!”
She had fancied victory, incredible, unhoped-for-victory to be almost within her grasp; and lo, it was dashed from her hand, it was farther from her than ever. And she could do no more. Courage, strength, hope were spent, shaken as she was by the emotions of the past hour. She could no no more; a little more and he might strike her. She crept out weeping, and went, blinded by her tears, up the stairs, up, stair by stair, to hide herself in her room. There had been a moment when she had fancied that he was melting, but all had been in vain. She had come close to him, but in the end he had put her from him. He had thrust her farther from him than before. Her only consolation, if consolation she had, was that she had spoken, that the truth was known, that she had no longer any secret to weigh her down. But she had failed.
CHAPTER XXX
Meantime the old man, left to himself, sat for a while, deeply moved. He breathed quickly, wiping his brow from time to time with a hand that trembled, and for some minutes it was upon the last and the least unwelcome aspect of the matter that he dwelt. So that was the point of it all, was it? That was the end and the aim of this clandestine, this disgraceful intrigue! This conspiracy! They had made this silly woman-child, soft like all her sex, their puppet, and using her they had thought that he, too, might be drawn into their game and used and exploited for their profit. But they had been mad, mad, as they would learn, to think it. They must have been mad to dream of it. Or desperate. Ay, that must be it. Desperate!
But as he grew cooler, and the first impulse, so natural in him, to pin his enemies and shake them, began to lose its force, less pleasant aspects of the matter rose before him. For the girl and her nonsense and her bad, bad behavior, he did not tell himself, he would not allow, that it was that which hurt him most. On the contrary, he affected to put that from him—for the time. He told himself and strove to believe that he could deal with it when it pleased him. He could easily put an end to that folly. Girls were only girls, and she’d forget. He would deal with that later.