“It seemed to me that I heard the voice of Percy Osmond calling to me from the grave—the same voice that I have heard so often in my dreams.”
“How your hand burns, Dering! Shake off these wild fancies, I implore you,” said Tom. “What a blinding flash was that!”
“They are no wild fancies to me, but most dread realities. I tell you it is Osmond’s voice that I hear. I know it but too well, ‘Thou shalt avenge!’ it says to me. Only three words: ‘Thou shalt avenge!’”
CHAPTER VI.
TOM FINDS HIS TONGUE.
Nearly a fortnight elapsed after Tom’s last interview with the Squire before he was again invited to Pincote, and after what had passed between himself and Mr. Culpepper he would not go there again without a special invitation. It is probable that the Squire would not have sent for him even at the end of a fortnight had he not grown so thoroughly tired of having to cope with Mrs. McDermott single-handed that he was ready to call in assistance from any quarter that promised relief. He knew that Tom would assist him if only a hint were given that he was wanted to do so. And Tom did relieve him; so that for the first time for many days the Squire really enjoyed his dinner.
Notwithstanding all this, matters were so arranged between the Squire and Mrs. McDermott that no opportunity was given Tom of being alone with Jane even for five minutes. The first time this happened he thought that it might perhaps have arisen from mere accident. But the next time he went up to Pincote he saw too clearly what was intended to allow him to remain any longer in doubt. That night, after shaking hands with Tom at parting, Jane found in her palm a tiny note, the contents of which were three lines only. “Should you be shopping in Duxley either to-morrow or next day, I shall be at the toll-gate on the Snelsham road from twelve till one o’clock.”
Next day, at half-past twelve to the minute, Jane and her pony-carriage found themselves at the Snelsham toll-gate. There was Tom, sure enough, who got into the trap and took the reins. He turned presently into a byroad that led to nowhere in particular, and there earned the gratitude of Diamond by letting him lapse into a quiet walk which enabled him to take sly nibbles at the roadside grass as he crawled contentedly along.
Two or three minutes passed in silence. Then Tom spoke. “Jane,” he said, and it was the first time he had ever called her by her Christian name, “Jane, your father has forbidden me to make love to you.”
It seemed as if Jane had nothing to say either for or against this statement. She only breathed a little more quickly, and a lovelier colour flushed her cheeks. But just then Diamond swerved towards a tempting tuft of grass. The carriage gave a slight jerk, and Tom fancied—but it might be nothing more than fancy—that, instinctively, Jane drew a little closer to him. And when Diamond had been punished by the slightest possible flick with the whip between his ears, and was again jogging peacefully on, Jane did not get farther away again, being, perhaps, still slightly nervous; and when Tom looked down there was a little gloved hand resting, light as a feather, on his arm. It was impossible to resist the temptation. Dispensing with the whip for a moment he lifted the little hand tenderly to his lips and kissed it. He was not repulsed.
“Yes, dearest,” he went on, “I am absolutely forbidden to make love to you. I can only imagine that your aunt has been talking to your father about us. Be that as it may, he has forbidden me to walk out with you, or even to see you alone. The reason why I asked you to meet me to-day was to tell you of these things.”