CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.
Kate uttered a gasp of relief on finding her fear needless, and dartedtowards the door, when, to her despair, the grotesque head was snatchedback.
"Becky! Becky!" she cried piteously, as the door was closing; and shestood still, not daring to approach.
Her action had its effect, for the door was slowly pressed open again,and the bow of the washed-out cotton handkerchief which bandaged thewoman's face gradually appeared, the ends, which stuck up like a smallpair of horns, trembling visibly. Then by very small degrees thewoman's forehead and the rest of the face appeared, with the eyesshowing the white all round, as their owner gazed at the prisoner withher usual scared look intensified.
"Pray come in, Becky," said Kate, softly; and she drew back towards achair, so as to try and inspire a little confidence.
The head was slowly shaken, and the door drawn once more tightly againstthe woman's long thin neck.
"Whatcher want?" she said, faintly.
"I want you to come in and talk to me," said Kate in a low, appealingtone. "I want you to help me."
"Dursn't."
"Yes, yes, you dare. Pray, pray don't say that I have no one to ask butyou. Oh, Becky, Becky, I am so unhappy. If you have a woman's heartwithin your breast, have pity on me!"
"Gug!"
A spasm contracted the pallid face as a violent sob escaped from herlips, and the tears began to flow from the dilated eyes, and wereaccompanied by unpleasant sniffs.
"Don't make me cr-cr-cry, miss, please."
"No, no, don't cry, Becky dear, pray," whispered Kate, anxiously.
"You make me, miss--going on like that; and d-don't call me dear,please. I ain't dear to nobody; I'm a miserable wretch."
"I always pitied you, Becky, but you never would let me be kind to you."
"N-no, miss. It don't do no good. On'y makes me mis'rable."
"But I must be; I will be kind to you, Becky, and try and make youhappy," whispered Kate.
"Tain't to be done, miss, till I die," said the woman, sadly; and thenthere was a triumphant light in her eyes, and her face lit up as shesaid more firmly, "but I'm going to be happy then."
"Yes, yes, and I'll try to make you happy while you live; but you willhelp me, dear?"
The poor creature shook her head.
"Yes, you will--I'm sure you will," pleaded Kate. "But pray come in."
"Dursn't, miss."
"But I am in such trouble, Becky."
"Yes, I know; he wants to marry you, and he's going to keep you lockedup till he does. I know."
"Yes, yes; and I want to get away."
"But you can't," whispered the woman, and she withdrew her head, andKate in her despair thought she had gone. But the head reappearedslowly. "Nobody watching," she whispered.
"I must go away, and you must help me, Becky," whispered Kate.
"It's no good. He won't let you, miss. But don't you marry him."
"Never!" cried Kate.
"Hush, or they'll hear you; and mother's siding with him, and going tohelp him. She says he's an angel, but he's all smooth smiles, and talksto you like a saint, but he's a horrid wretch."
"Yes, yes. But now listen to me."
"Yes, I'm a-listening, miss. It's all because you're so pretty andhandsome, and got lots o' money, aintcher?"
"Yes, unhappily," sighed Kate.
"That's what he wants. He got all poor old master's money, and thehouse and furniture out of him."
"He did?" whispered Kate, excitedly.
"Yes, miss; I know. Mother says it's all nonsense, and that we ought tolove him, because he's such a good man. But I know better. Poor oldmaster used to tell me when I took him up his letters: `Ah, Becky, mypoor girl, you are disappointed and unhappy,' he says, `but I'm moreunhappy still. That man won't be satisfied till he has ground the lastfarthing out of me, and there's nothing left but my corpse.' I didn'tbelieve him, and I said, `Don't let him have it, sir.' `Ah, Becky,' hesays, `I'm obliged; signed papers are stronger than iron chains,' hesays, `and he's always dragging at the end. But he shall have it all,and heavy pounds o' flesh at the end, and the bones too.' I didn't knowwhat he meant, miss; and I didn't believe as anyone could be as unluckyas me. But I believed him at last, when I went to his room and foundhim dead on the floor; and then I knew he must be worse than I was, forI couldn't have done what he did."
"Becky," whispered Kate, fixing the trembling woman with her eyes, "Ican understand how people who are very unhappy seek for rest in death.Do you wish to come here some morning, and find me lying dead?"
"Oh, miss!" cried the woman, excitedly, pushing the door more open;"don't, please don't you go and do a thing like that. You're too youngand beautiful, and--oh, oh, oh! Please don't talk so; I can't abearit--pray!"
"Then help me, Becky, for I tell you I would sooner die."
"What, than marry him?"
"Yes, than marry this dreadful man."
"Then--then," whispered the woman, after withdrawing her head to gazeback, "I feel that I dursn't, and p'raps he'll kill me for it--not as Iseem to mind much, and mother would soon get over it, for I ain't o' nouse--but I think I will try and help you. You want to get away?"
In her wild feeling of joy and excitement, Kate sprang toward the door,and she would have flung her arms round the unhappy woman's neck. Butbefore she could reach her the head was snatched back, and the fasteninggave a loud snap, while when she opened it, Becky had disappeared andher mother was coming up the stairs to fetch the breakfast tray.
"And not touched a bit, my dear," said the housekeeper, with areproachful shake of the head. "Now you must, you know; you must,indeed. And do let me advise you, my dear. Mr Garstang is such a goodman, and so indulgent, and it's really naughty of you to be so foolishas to oppose his wishes."
Kate turned upon her with a look that astounded the woman, who stoodwith parted lips, breathless, while a piece of bread was broken from theloaf on the tray, and a cup of tea poured out and placed aside.
"Take away that tray," said Kate, imperiously; "and remember your place.Never presume to speak to me again like that."
"No, ma'am--certainly not, ma'am," said the woman, hastily. "I beg yourpardon, ma'am, I am sure."
"Leave the room, and do not come again until I ring."
"My!" ejaculated the woman, as soon as she was on the landing, "to thinkof such a gentle-looking little thing being able to talk like that!P'raps master's caught a tartar now."
There was a gleam of hope, then, after all. Poor Becky was not thevacant idiot she had always appeared. Kate felt that she had made onefriend, and trembling with eagerness she went to the writing-table andwrote quickly a few lines to Jenny Leigh, briefly explaining herposition, and begging her to lay the matter before her brother and askhis help and advice.
This she inclosed and directed, and then sat gazing before her,conjuring the scene to follow at the cottage, and the indignation ofLeigh. And as she thought, the warm blood tinged her pale cheeks oncemore, and she covered her face with her hands, to sit there sobbing fora few minutes before slowly tearing up the letter till the fragmentswere too small ever to be found and read by one curious to know theircontents.
Gladly as she would have seen Pierce Leigh appear and insist upon hertaking refuge with his sister, she felt that she could not send such anappeal to those who were comparative strangers; and though she would notown to it even to herself, she felt that there were other reasons whyshe could not write.
An hour of intense mental agony and dread passed, and she had to strivehard to keep down the terrible feeling of panic which nearly masteredher, and tempted her to rush down the stairs to try once more to escape,or to go to one of the front windows, throw it open, and shriek forhelp.
"It would be an act of madness," she sighed, as she recalled Garstang'swords respecting the sick lady. "And they would believe him!" shecried, while the feeling of helplessness grew and grew as she felt howthoroughly she was in Garsta
ng's power.
Then came the thought of her aunt and uncle, her natural protectors, andshe determined to write to them. James Wilton would fetch her away atonce, for he was her guardian; and surely now, she told herself, she waswoman enough to insist upon proper respect being paid to her wishes.She could set at defiance any of her cousin's advances; and her conductin leaving showed itself up in its strongest colours, as beingcowardly--the act of a child.
With a fresh display of energy she wrote to her aunt, detailingeverything, and bidding her--not begging--to tell her uncle to come toher rescue at once. But no sooner was the letter written than she feltthat her aunt would behave in some weak, foolish way, and there would bedelay.
She tore up that letter slowly, and after hiding the pieces, she satthere thinking again, with her brow wrinkled, and the look of agony inher face intensifying.
"I have right on my side. He is my guardian, and he dare not actotherwise than justly by me. I am no longer the weak child now."
And once more she took paper, and wrote this time to James Wiltonhimself, telling him that Garstang had lured her away by the promise ofprotection, but had shown himself in the vilest colours at last.
"He must--he shall protect me," she said, exultantly, and she hastilydirected the letter.
But as she sat there with the letter in her hand, she shrank andtrembled. For in vivid colours her imagination painted before her thetrouble and persecution to which she would expose herself. She knewwell enough what were James Wilton's aims, and that situated as he was,he would stand at nothing to gain them. It was in vain she told herselfthat anything would be preferable to staying there at John Garstang'smercy, the horror of rushing headlong back to her guardian, and thethoughts of his triumphant looks as he held her tightly once again,proved too much for her, and this letter was slowly torn up and thepieces hidden.
As she sat there, with every nerve on the rack, a strange feeling offaintness came over her, and she started up in horror at the idea oflosing her senses, and being at this man's mercy. And as she walkedhurriedly to and fro, trembling as she felt the faintness increasing,some relief came, for she grasped the fact that her faintness was due towant of food, and it was past mid-day.
There was the bread close at hand, though, and turning to it she beganto crumble up the pieces and to eat, though it was only with thegreatest difficulty that she accomplished her task.
But it had the required effect--the sensation of sinking passed off.And now she set herself the task of trying to think of some one amongthe very few friends she had known before her father's death to whom shecould send for help; but there did not occur to her mind one to whom shecould apply in such a strait. There were the people at the bank, andthe doctor who had attended her father in his last illness, but theywere comparatively such strangers that she shrank from writing to them;and at last, unnerved, and with her mind seeming to refuse to act, shesat there feeling that there was not a soul in the world whom she couldtrust but the Leighs. She could send to Jenny, who would, she knew, beup in arms at once; but there was her brother. She could not, she darednot, ask him; and it would be, she felt, asking him. It would be sointerpreted if she wrote.
And then came the question which sent a shiver through her frame--whatmust he think of her, and would he come to her help as he would havedone before she committed so rash an act?
Kate's weary ponderings were interrupted by a tap at the door, whichproduced a fit of trembling, and she glided to it to slip the bolt,which had hardly passed into its socket before the housekeeper's voicewas heard.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am, but lunch is ready, and master would be gladto know if you are well enough to come down."
A stern negative was the reply, and for about a quarter of an hour shewas undisturbed. Then came another tap, and the rattling of china andglass.
"If you please, ma'am, I've brought your lunch."
She hesitated for a few moments. The desire was strong to refuse totake anything, but she felt that if she was to keep setting Garstang atdefiance till she could escape, she must have energy and strength. So,unwillingly enough, she unfastened the door, the housekeeper enteredwith a tray, and set it down upon the table.
"Can I bring you up anything more, ma'am, and would you like any wine?"
"No," was the abrupt answer, in tones that would bear no reply, and thewoman went away, the door being fastened after her.
The lunch tray looked dainty enough, but it remained untouched for atime. A desperate resolve had come upon the prisoner, and once moreseating herself, she wrote a piteous letter to Jenny, imploring help,directed it, and placed it ready for giving to poor Becky when she cameagain. Stamps she had none, but she had a little money, and doubtlessthe girl would dispatch her note in safety.
The desperate step taken, she felt more at ease, and feeling that herstate of siege must last for a couple of days longer, she sat down andonce more forced herself to eat, but she shrank from touching the waterin the carafe, looking at it suspiciously, and preferring to partake ofsome that was in the room.
The tray was fetched in due time, and the housekeeper smiled hersatisfaction; but she went off without a word, and Kate felt that shewould go straight to Garstang and report that the lunch had been eaten.
She winced at this a little, but felt that it was inevitable, andfeeling in better nerve she went to the door, which she had fastened,opened it a little, and stood there to watch for the coming of Becky.
But the hours glided by, and with a creeping sense of horror she saw thewintry evening coming rapidly on, and thought of the night.
Whenever a footstep was heard she was on the qui vive, but each time itwas the mother. The daughter, who had before this seemed to be alwaysgliding ghost-like about the place, was now invisible, and as Katewatched she saw the housekeeper light the hall jets and then descend tothe kitchen region.
Twice over she shrank back and secured the door, for she heard Garstangcough slightly, and saw him cross the hall from library to dining-room,and in each case she let some minutes elapse before she dared open andpeer out again. The last time it was to be aware of the fact that thedinner hour had come once more, and soon after the woman began to ascendthe stairs, Kate retiring within and slipping the bolt, to stand andlisten for the message she knew would be delivered.
"Master's compliments, and are you well enough to come down, ma'am?"
The brief negative sent the messenger down again, and the prisoner wasleft undisturbed for a few minutes, when there was the sound of a traybeing brought to the door, but this time it was refused entrance.
Kate watched again eagerly now, feeling that in all probability Beckywould try to see her while her mother was occupied in the dining-room,but the time passed on and there was no sign of her, and thoughts ofdesperate venturing to try and reach the front door attacked thelistener, but only to be dismissed.
"It would only be to expose myself to insult," she said, and growingmore and more despondent, she once more closed and secured the door,expecting that there would be a fresh message sent up.
In due time there was another tap at the door, but no request for her tocome down.
"I have brought you up some tea, ma'am."
Kate hesitated about admitting the woman, for the memory of the scene atthe same hour on the previous night flashed across her, butinstinctively feeling that the messenger was alone, she unfastened thedoor and let her in.
"Master's compliments, ma'am, and he hopes that your quiet day's restwill have done you good. He says he will not trouble you to see himto-night, but he hopes you will be yourself again in the morning.Good-night, ma'am; I won't disturb you again. The things can be left onthe side-table. Is there anything else I can do?"
"No, I thank you," said Kate, coldly.
"Very good, ma'am."
The woman went back to the door, and Kate's last hope of her turning afriend to help her died out, for she heard her sigh and say softly,evidently to be heard:
"Poor d
ear master; it's very sad."
"Good-night!" said Kate, involuntarily repeating the woman's words."God help me and protect me through the long night watches, and inspireme with the thought that shall bring me help. How can I dare to sleep?"
The answer came from Nature--imperative, and who knew no denial; foronce more the prisoner awoke, wondering to find that it was morning andthat she must have slept for many hours in a chair.