CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
It was a splendid grand piano whose tones rang, through the house, andbrought poor Becky, with her pale, anaemic, tied-up face, from the lowerregions, to stand peering round corners and listening till the finalchords of some sonata rang out, when she would dart back into hiding,but only to steal up again as slowly and cautiously as a serpent, andthrust out her head from the gloom which hung forever upon the kitchenstairs, when Kate's low, sweet voice was heard singing some sad oldballad, a favourite of her father's, one which brought up the happypast, and ended often enough in the tears dropping silently upon theivory keys.
Such a song will sometimes draw tears from many a listener; the melody,the words, recollections evoked, the expression given by the singer, allhave their effect; and perhaps it was a memory of the baker (or milkman)which floated into poor, timid, shrinking Becky, for almost invariablyshe melted into tears.
"She says it's like being in heaven, ma'am," said Sarah Plant, givingvoice upstairs to her child's strained ideas of happiness. "And reallythe place don't seem like the same, for, God bless you! you have made usall so happy here."
Kate sighed, for she did not share the happy feeling. There were timeswhen her lot seemed too hard to bear. Garstang was kindness itself; heseemed to be constantly striving to make her content. Books, music,papers, fruit, and flowers--violets constantly as soon as he saw thebrightening of her eyes whenever he brought her a bunch. Almost everyexpressed wish was gratified. But there was that intense longing forcommunion with others. If she could only have written to poor, amiable,faithful Eliza or to Jenny Leigh, she would have borne her imprisonmentbetter; but she had religiously studied her new guardian's wishes uponthat point, yielding to his advice whenever he reiterated the dangerswhich would beset their path if James Wilton discovered where she was.
"As it is, my dear child," he would say again and again, "it issanctuary; and I'm on thorns whenever I am absent, for fear you shouldbe tempted by the bright sunshine out of the gloom of this dull house,be seen by one or other of James Wilton's emissaries, and I return tofind the cage I have tried so hard to gild, empty--the bird taken awayto another kind of captivity, one which surely would not be so easy tobear."
"No, no, no; I could not bear it!" she cried, wildly. "I do not murmur.I will not complain, guardian; but there are times when I would giveanything to be out somewhere in the bright open air, with the beautifulblue sky overhead, the soft grass beneath my feet, and the birds singingin my ears."
"Yes, yes, I know, my poor dear child," he said, tenderly. "It iscruelly hard upon you, but what can I do? I am waiting and hoping thatJames Wilton on finding his helplessness will become more open to makingsome kind of reasonable terms. I am sure you would be willing to meethim."
"To meet him again? Oh, no, I could not. The thought is horrible," shecried. "He seems to have broken faith so, after all his promises to mydying father."
"He has," said Garstang, solemnly; "but you misunderstand me; I did notmean personally meet him, but in terms, which would be paying so muchmoney--in other words, buying your freedom."
"Oh, yes, yes," she cried, wildly, "at any cost. It is as you said oneevening, guardian; I am cursed by a fortune."
"Cursed indeed, my dear. But there, try and be hopeful and patient, andwe will have more walks of an evening. Only to think of it, our havingto steal out at night like two thieves, for a dark walk in RussellSquare sometimes. I don't wonder that the police used to watch us."
"If I could only write a few letters, guardian!"
"Yes, my dear, if you only could. I cannot say to you, do not, only laythe case before you once again."
"Yes, yes, yes," she said, hastily wiping away a few tears. "I am very,very foolish and ungrateful; but now that's all over, and I am going tobe patient, and wait for freedom. I am far better off than many who arechained to a sick bed."
"No," he said, gently, shaking his head at her; "far worse off.Sickness brings a dull lassitude and indifference to external things.The calm rest of the bedroom is welcome, and the chamber itself thepatient's little world. You, my dear, are in the full tide of life andyouth, with all its aspirations, and must suffer there, more. Butthere; I am working like a slave to settle a lot of business goingthrough the courts; and as soon as I can get it over we will take flightsomewhere abroad, away from the gilded cage, out to the mountains andforests, where you can tire me out with your desires to be in the openair."
"I--I don't think I wish to leave England," she said, hesitatingly, andwith the earnest far-off look in her eyes that he had seen before.
"Well, well, we will find some secluded place by the lakes, where we arenot likely to be found out, and where the birds will sing to you. And,here's a happy thought, Kate, my child--you shall have some fellowprisoners."
"Companions?" she said, eagerly.
"Yes, companions," he replied, with a smile; "but I meant birds--canaries, larks--what do you say to doves? They make charming pets."
"No, no," she said, hastily; "don't do that, Mr Garstang. One prisoneris enough."
He bowed his head.
"You have only to express your wishes, my child," he said.--"Then youare going to try and drive away the clouds?"
"Oh, yes, I am going to be quite patient," she said, smiling at him; andshe placed her hands in his.
"Thank you," he said, gently; and for the first time he drew her nearerto him, and bent down to kiss her forehead--the slightest touch--andthen dropped her hands, to turn away with a sigh.
And the days wore on, with the prisoner fighting hard with self, to becontented with her lot. She practiced hard at the piano, and studied upthe crabbed Gothic letters of the German works in one of the cases. Nowand then, too, she sang about the great, gloomy house, but mostly tostop hurriedly on finding that she had listeners, attracted from thelower regions.
But try how she would to occupy her thoughts, she could not master thosewhich would bring a faint colour to her cheeks. For ever and again thecalm, firm countenance of Pierce Leigh would intrude itself, and thecolour grew deeper, as she felt that there was something strange in allthis, especially when he of whom she thought had never, by word or look,given her cause to think that he cared for her. And yet, in her secretheart, she felt that he did. And what would he think of her? He couldnot know anything of her proceedings, but little of her reasons forfleeing from her uncle's care.