CHAPTER FORTY.
In the hope that an opportunity would soon come, and to be ready at anymoment, one of Kate's first acts that morning was to write plainly a fewwords on a sheet of paper, begging Becky to post her letter, andinclosing it with the note in another envelope, which she directed tothe woman herself. This she placed in the fold of her dress, where shecould draw it out directly, and waited.
The housekeeper was not long before she made her appearance with thebreakfast tray, and was respectful in the extreme.
"Master thought, ma'am, that perhaps you might like your breakfast alonethis morning, but he hopes to see you at lunch. He is so unwell that heis not going out this morning."
"Staying to watch for fear I should escape," thought Kate, and a nervousshiver ran through her; but rest seemed to have given her mentalstrength, and after breakfast she felt disposed to ridicule the idea ofher being kept there against her will. "It must be possible to getaway," she thought. It only wanted nerve and determination, for therewas but the wall of the house between her and safety.
Soon after breakfast the housekeeper appeared again, to remove thebreakfast things.
"Would you mind me coming to tidy up your room, ma'am, while you arehere, or would you prefer my waiting till you go down?"
"Do it now," said Kate, quietly; and to avoid being spoken to, she tookup a book and held it as if she were reading. But all the time she wasnoting everything, with her senses on the alert, and the next minute herheart began to throb wildly, for she saw the woman go to the door, passout the tray, and it was evident that some order was given.
Becky was there, and Kate sat trembling, her excitement increasing whenthe next minute there was a light tap at the door, and Becky wasadmitted to assist in rearranging the room.
This went on for about a quarter of an hour, with Becky carefullyminding not to glance at the prisoner, who, with head bent, watched herevery movement, on the hope of her being left alone for a few minutes.
But as the mother was always near at hand, the opportunity did not come;and at last, with the envelope doubled in her hand, Kate began to feelthat she might give up this time, and would have to wait till she couldsee the woman passing her room.
The disappointment was terrible, and Kate's heart sank in her despair asthe housekeeper suddenly said:
"There, that will do--get on downstairs."
She stood back for her daughter to pass her, and then followed to thedoor, where a whispered conversation ensued.
"What? Left the brush?"
"Yes; other side of the room."
"Be quick, then. Fetch it out."
The housekeeper was passing through the door as she spoke, and Beckyreappeared, to cross the room hurriedly, with her face lighting up asshe gave the prisoner a meaning look, drew something from her bosom, andthrust it into Kate's hand, and took the note offered to her.
"Now, Becky!" came from outside.
The woman darted to the door.
"Well?"
"Can't find it. Tain't there."
The door closed, and Kate was once more alone, to eagerly examine thetiny packet handed to her.
It was square, about an inch across, roughly tied up with black worsted,and proved to be a sheet of note paper, doubled up small, and containingthe words, written in an execrable hand:
"You run away. Come down at twelve o'clock, and I'll let you out threwthe airy."
Letter rarely contained such hope as this, and the receiver, as she satthere, with her pulses bounding in her excitement, saw no furtherdifficulty. Her lonely position in London, the want of friends to whomshe could flee, the awkward hour of the night--these all seemed to betrifles compared to the great gain, for in a few hours she would befree.
She carefully destroyed the note, burning it in the fireplace, and thensat thinking, after opening and gazing out of the window, to realise howtrue Garstang's words had been. But they were of no consequence now,for the way of escape was open, and she repented bitterly that she haddispatched her letter to Jenny. Then once more a feeling akin to shamemade her flush, as she thought of Leigh and what he would feel onhearing the letter read by his sister.
The day passed slowly on. A message came, asking if she would come downto lunch, and she refused. Later on came another message, almost acommand, that she would be in her usual place at dinner, and to this shemade no reply, for none seemed needed; but she determined that she wouldnot stir from her room.
Then more and more slowly the time glided on, till it was as if nightwould never come.
But she made her preparations, so as to be ready when midnight didarrive. They were simple enough, and consisted in placing, bonnet,mantle, and the fewest necessaries. Her plans were far more difficult:where to go?
She sat and thought of every friend in turn, but there was a difficultyin the way in each case; and in spite of trying hard to avoid it, as thelast resource, she seemed to be driven to take refuge with Jenny Leigh;and in deciding finally upon this step she forced herself to ignore thethought of her brother, while feeling exhilarated by the thought thatthe course pursued would be the one most likely to throw Garstang offher track, for Northwood would be the last place he would credit herwith fleeing to.
Her head grew clearer now, as her hope of escape brightened, and theplans appeared easier and easier, and the way more clear.
For it was so simple. Garstang and the housekeeper would by that timebe asleep, and all she would have to do would be to steal silently downin the darkness to where Becky would be waiting for her. She would takeher into the basement, and she would be free. If she could persuadeher, she would take the poor creature with her. She would be acompanion and protection, and rob her night journey of its strangeappearance.
The rest seemed to be mere trifles. She would walk for some distance,and then take a cab to the railway terminus at London Bridge, and waittill the earliest morning train started. The officials might think itstrange, but she could take refuge in the waiting room.
And now, feeling satisfied that her ideas were correct, she thought ofher letter to Jenny. This would only be received just before herarrival, but it would have prepared her, and all would be well. Theonly dread that she had now was that she might encounter anyone from theManor House at the station. On the way, the station fly would hide herfrom the curious gaze, but the thought made her carefully place a veilready for use.
Then came a kind of reaction; was it not madness to go to Northwood?Her uncle would soon know, and as soon as he did, he would insist uponher going back, and then--
Kate reached no farther into the future, for there was a knock at thedoor, and the housekeeper appeared, smiling at her, and handed her anote.
She saw at a glance that it was in Garstang's handwriting, and sherefused to take it, whereupon the woman placed it upon the table, closeto her elbow, and left the room.
For quite half an hour, Kate sat there determined not to open theletter, and trying hard not even to look at it; but human nature isweak, and unable to control the desire to know its contents, andexcusing herself on the plea that perhaps it might have some bearingupon her plans for that night--a bearing which would force her to alterthem--she took it up, opened it, and then sat gazing at it in despair.
It was a large envelope, and the first thing which fell from it was herletter to Jenny, apparently unopened, but crumpled and soiled as if ithad been held in a hot and dirty hand; while the other portion of thecontents of the envelope was a letter from Garstang, calling her foolishand childish and asking her if she thought his threats so vain and emptythat he had not taken precautions against her trying such a feeble planas that.
"I can not be angry with you," he concluded, "I love you too well; but Ido implore you, for your sake as well as my own, to act sensibly, andcease forcing me to carry on a course which degrades us both. Come,dearest, be wise; act like a woman should under the circumstances. Youknow well how I worship you. Show me in return some little pity, andlet me have its fir
st fruits in your presence at the dinner-table thisevening. I promise you that you shall have no cause to regret comingdown. My treatment shall be full of the most chivalrous respect, and Iwill wait as long as you wish, if only you will give me your word to bemy wife."
Was there any other way of sending the letter? Could she cast it fromthe window, in the hope of its being picked up and posted? She fearednot, and passed the weary minutes thinking that she must give it up.But she roused herself after a time. The mother had evidently taken theletter from Becky, and handed it to Garstang; but the flight was Becky'sown proposal, and now, after getting into trouble as she would have doneover the letter, she would be the more likely to join in the flight.
Dinner was announced, but she refused to go down, and after partaking ofwhat was sent up, she waited and waited till bed-time was approaching,giving the housekeeper cause to think from her actions that she wasgoing to bed, and fastening her door loudly as the woman left the roomafter saying good-night.
And now came the most crucial time. She knew from old experience whatGarstang's habits were. He would read for about half an hour after thehousekeeper had locked and barred the front door; and then go up to hisroom, which was in the front, upon the second floor; and she stood bythe door, listening through the long leaden minutes for the sharp soundof the bolts and the rattle of bar and chain. Her brow was throbbing,and her hands felt damp in the palms with the dread she felt of somefresh development of Garstang's persecution, and she would have givenanything to have unbolted and opened her door, so as to stand in thedarkness and watch, but shivered with fear at the very thought.
At last, plainly heard, came the familiar sounds, and now she picturedwhat would follow--the extinguishing of the staircase and hall lights,as the housekeeper and her child went up to bed in the attic, and theplace left in darkness, save where a faint bar of rays came from beneaththe library door. Half an hour later that door would be opened, andGarstang would pass up. Then there would be nearly an hour to waitbefore she dared to steal away.
The agony and suspense now became so unbearable that Kate felt that shemust do something or she would go mad; and at last she softly threw backthe bolt, opened the door, and looked out.
All was dark, and after listening intently, she glided out inch by inchtill she reached the balustrade and peered down into the hall.
Exactly as she had pictured, there were a few faint rays from thelibrary door, and just heard there was the smothered sound of a cough.
She stole back to listen, but first closed and bolted the door hastily,put on bonnet, veil, and mantle, and then put out the candles burningupon her dressing-table.
This done, she crept back to the door and stood there, waiting to hearsome sound, or to see the gleam of a candle when Garstang went up, butshe waited in vain.
The half-hour must have long passed, and she was fain to confess thatsince her coming she had never once heard him go up to bed. The thickcarpets, the position of her door, would dull sound and hide the lightpassing along the landing, and when another half-hour had passed shemustered up sufficient courage to once more slip the bolt.
It glided back silently, but the hinges gave a faint crack as she openedthem, and she then stood fast, with her heart beating violently, readyto fling the door to and fasten it again. But all was still, and atlast once more, inch by inch, she crept out silently till she was ableto gaze down into the hall.
The breath she drew came more freely now, for the faint bar of lightfrom the library was no longer there, and in the utter silence of theplace she knew that the door must be wide open, and the fire nearlyextinct, for all at once there was the faint tinkling sound of dyingcinders falling together.
He must have gone up to bed.
For a few moments Kate Wilton felt ready to hurry down the stairs, butshe checked the desire. It was not the appointed time, and she stoleback, closed the door, and forced herself to sit down and wait Becky hadsaid twelve o'clock, and it would be folly to go down earlier.
Never had the place seemed so silent before. The distant roll of a cabsounded faint in the extreme, and it was as if the great city was forthe time being dead. And now her heart sank again at the thought of herventure. She was going to plunge into the silence and darkness of thestreets, so it seemed to her then; and the idea was so fraught with fearthat she felt she must resign herself to her fate, for she dared not.
The faint striking of a clock sent a thrill through her, and once moreshe felt inspired with the courage to make the attempt. Becky wouldhave stolen down, and be waiting, and perhaps after the trouble of theletter business be quite ready to go with her. "Yes, she must go," shesaid; and now, with every nerve drawn to its highest pitch of tension,she opened the door, and stood for a few moments listening.
All was perfectly still, and hesitating no longer, she walked silentlyand swiftly to the staircase, caught at the hand-rail, and began todescend, her dress making a faint rustling as it passed over the thickcarpet.
Her goal was the door leading to the kitchen stairs, and the only dreadshe had now was that she might in the darkness touch one of the hallchairs, and make it scrape on the polished floor; but she recalled whereeach stood, and after a momentary pause, feeling convinced that shecould make straight for the spot, she went on down into the darkness,reached the mat, and then found that there was a faint, dawn-like gleamcoming from the fan-light over the door.
Then her heart seemed to stand still, for just before her there wassomething shadowy and dark.
"One of the statues," she thought for the moment, and then turned toflee, but stopped.
"Becky," she whispered, and a hand touched her arm.