‘Why so?’ asked Abel, who, however, looked somewhat relieved.
‘Because, sir, I will be frank with you,’ she replied, ‘and own that my father attributes my increased dislike of my cousin to a predilection for your nephew.’
‘And may I expect equal frankness in the reply, if I ask whether there is any truth in your father’s suppositions?’ rejoined Abel.
‘You may,’ she answered. ‘Your nephew appears a very amiable and pleasing young man, but having seen him only for a few minutes, I cannot possibly feel an interest in him beyond such as might be inspired by any stranger of equally prepossessing appearance and manners. My aversion to my cousin arises from various causes. I half suspect him of acting a very base part towards my father, who resolutely shuts his eyes to the deception.’
‘I will not affect to deny that I am pleased with what you say of your indifference to my nephew, Hilda,’ returned Abel, ‘because I have other views in reference to him. As to your cousin, Philip Frewin, I will make strict inquiries about him, and if your suspicions prove correct, I will myself unmask him to your father, which may perhaps put an end to the matter. He lives in Fen-church Street, you say. It so happens that an old friend of mine, a widow lady, Mrs. Verrai—a friend of your mother’s, by the bye—resides in that street. She is an excellent woman, but a little of a busy-body and a gossip, and makes it her business to know her neighbours’ concerns better than her own. I’ll venture to say she is acquainted with your cousin’s affairs. I haven’t seen the old lady of late, because, as you may perhaps have heard, I have little intercourse with your sex—my habits, and indeed feelings, unfitting me for their society—but I happen to know from my brother Trussell that she is well. You had better go to her yourself. I will give you a note of introduction—though, indeed, it is not needed, for, as I have told you, she is an old friend of your mother’s. In addition to gaining all the information you may require respecting your cousin, you will make a friend with whom you may take refuge, if matters—which we will not anticipate—should unhappily render such a step necessary.’
‘I will do as you suggest, sir,’ replied Hilda; ‘but suppose I should encounter my cousin?’
‘Tell him where you are going,’ replied Abel; ‘and depend upon it, if he is not what he represents himself, he will be the first to take the alarm. I will myself institute inquiries about him in another quarter.’ With this, he proceeded to a table on which writing materials were placed, and hastily penned a note, and gave it to Hilda. ‘And now, God bless you, my dear child!’ he said affectionately. ‘If called upon by circumstances, you shall never want a father or protector in me!’ He then rang the bell, and Mr. Jukes presently appeared, who informed him that Jacob had just sat down to dinner with the other servants.
‘I think, sir,’ he added, in a low tone, ‘it is the first good meal he has had for many a day, and it would be a pity to disturb him, if Miss Scarve is not in a very great hurry.’
Abel appealed to Hilda, and as she raised no objection, he proposed to her to take a turn in the garden till Jacob had finished his meal; and accordingly opened the window and led her forth. By this time Hilda had become more composed, and being quite easy with the old man, for whom indeed she felt a growing regard, she entered readily into conversation with him; and thus more than half an hour flew by, almost without their being aware of its flight. At the end of that time, Mr. Jukes made his appearance, and informed them that Jacob was ready. Abel attended his fair visitor to the door.
‘If you do not find Mrs. Verrai at home,’ he said, ‘or if anything should occur to make you wish to see me again, do not hesitate to come back. But, in any event, you shall hear from me—perhaps see me, to-morrow. God bless you, my child!’ And taking her hand, he pressed it to his lips; and when Hilda withdrew it, she found it wet with tears.