CHAPTER XXXI.
A CRISIS AT ECCLESTON SQUARE.
His father's encouraging words had given Ezra Girdlestone fresh heart,and he had renewed his importunities with greater energy than ever.Never surely did any man devote every moment of his time more completelyto the winning of a woman's heart. From morning until night the oneidea was ever before his mind and every little want of Kate's wasforestalled with a care and foresight which astonished her. The richestfruit and flowers found their way unexpectedly into her room; her tablewas littered with the latest books from Mudie's, and the newest pieceslay upon her music-stand. Nothing which attention and thoughtfulnesscould do was left undone either by the father or the son.
In spite of these attentions, however, and the frequent solicitations ofher guardian, Kate stood firmly to her colours. If the Tom of thepresent were false, she at least would be true to the memory of the Tomof other days, the lad who had first whispered words of love into herears. Her ideal should remain with her whatever might befall. No otherman could ever take the place of that.
That Tom was from some unexplained and unaccountable reason false to herappeared to be beyond all question. Her trusting and innocent heartcould not dream of the subtle network which was being wound round her.Her secluded life had left her very ignorant of the ways of the world,and the possibility of an elaborate deceit being practised upon her hadnever occurred to her. From the day that she heard the extract of theletter read by her guardian she never doubted but that such letters werereceived at the office by the man who professed to love her. How couldshe hesitate to believe it when it was confirmed by his avoidance ofEccleston Square and of herself? The cause of it all was a mysterywhich no amount of speculation could clear up. Sometimes the poor girlwould blame herself, as is the way of women in such cases. "I have notseen enough of the world," she would say to herself. "I have none ofthe charms of these women whom I read of in the novels. No doubt Iseemed dull and insipid in his eyes. And yet--and yet--" There alwaysremained at the end of her cogitations the same vague sense ofbewilderment and mystery.
She endeavoured as far as possible to avoid Ezra Girdlestone, and stayin her room for the most part on the days when he was at home. He had,however, on the advice of his father, ceased pressing his suit except inthe silent manner aforementioned, so that she gradually took courage,and ended by resuming her old habits. In her heart she pitied the youngmerchant very sincerely, for he was looking haggard and pale."Poor fellow," she thought as she watched him, "he certainly loves me.Ah, Tom, Tom! had you only been as constant, how happy we should be!"She was even prompted sometimes to cheer Ezra up by some kind word orlook. This he naturally took to be an encouragement to renew hisadvances. Perhaps he was not far wrong, for if love be wanting pity isoccasionally an excellent substitute.
One morning after breakfast the elder Girdlestone called his son asideinto the library. "I've had a notice," he said, "as to paying updividends. Our time is short, Ezra. You must bring matters to a head.If you don't it will be too late."
"You mustn't pick fruit before it is ripe," the other answered moodily.
"You can try if it is ripe, though. If not, you can try again. I thinkthat your chance is a good one. She is alone in the breakfast-room, andthe table has been cleared. You cannot have a better opening. Go, myson, and may Heaven prosper you!"
"Very well. Do you wait in here, and I shall let you know how thingsgo."
The young man buttoned up his coat, pulled down his cuffs, and walkedback into the breakfast-room with a sullen look of resolution upon hisdark face.
Kate was sitting in a wicker chair by the window, arranging flowers in avase. The morning sunlight streaming in upon her gave a colour to herpale face and glittered in her heavy coils of chestnut hair. She wore alight pink morning dress which added to the ethereal effect of her lithebeautiful figure. As Ezra entered she looked round and started at sightof his face. Instinctively she knew on what errand he had come.
"You will be late at Fenchurch Street," she said, with a constrainedsmile. "It is nearly eleven now."
"I am not going to the office to-day," he answered gravely. "I am comein here, Kate, to know my fate. You know very well, and must have knownfor some time back, that I love you. If you'll marry me you'll make mea happy man, and I'll make you a happy woman. I'm not very eloquent andthat sort of thing, but what I say I mean. What have you to say inanswer?" He leaned his broad hands on the back of a chair as he spoke,and drummed nervously with his fingers.
Kate had drooped her head over the flowers, but she looked up at him nowwith frank, pitying eyes.
"Put this idea out of your head, Ezra," she said, in a low but firmvoice. "Believe me, I shall always be grateful to you for the kindnesswhich you have shown me of late. I will be a sister to you, if you willlet me, but I can never be more."
"And why not?" asked Ezra, still leaning over the chair, with an angrylight beginning to sparkle in his dark eyes. "Why can you never be mywife?"
"It is so, Ezra. You must not think of it. I am so sorry to grieveyou."
"You can't love me, then," cried the young merchant hoarsely."Other women before now would have given their eyes to have had me.Do you know that?"
"For goodness' sake, then go back to the others," said Kate, half amusedand half angry.
That suspicion of a smile upon her face was the one thing needed to setEzra's temper in a blaze. "You won't have me," he cried savagely."I haven't got the airs and graces of that fellow, I suppose.You haven't got him out of your head, though he is off with anothergirl."
"How dare you speak to me so?" Kate cried, springing to her feet inhonest anger.
"It's the truth, and you know it," returned Ezra, with a sneer."Aren't you too proud to be hanging on to a man who doesn't want you--a man that is a smooth-tongued sneak, with the heart of a rabbit?"
"If he were here you would not dare to say so!" Kate retorted hotly.
"Wouldn't I?" he snarled fiercely.
"No, you wouldn't. I don't believe that he has ever been untrue to me.I believe that you and your father have planned to make me believe itand to keep us apart."
Heaven knows what it was that suddenly brought this idea most clearlybefore Kate's mind. Perhaps it was that Ezra's face, distorted withpassion, gave her some dim perception of the wickedness of which such anature might be capable. The dark face turned so much darker at herwords that she felt a great throb of joy at her heart, and knew thatthis strange new thought which had flashed upon her was the truth.
"You can't deny it," she cried, with shining eyes and clenched hands."You know that it is true. I shall see him and hear from his own lipswhat he has to say. He loves me still, and I love him, and have neverceased to love him."
"Oh, you do, do you?" snarled Ezra, taking a step forward, with adevilish gleam in his eyes. "Your love may do him very little good.We shall see which of us gets the best of it in the long run. We'll--"His passion was so furious that he stopped, fairly unable to articulateanother word.
With a threatening motion of his hands he turned upon his heel andrushed from the room. As he passed it chanced that Flo, Kate's littleSkye terrier, ran across his path. All the brutality of the man's soulrose up in the instant. He raised his heavy boot, and sent the poorlittle creature howling and writhing under the sofa, whence it piteouslyemerged upon three legs, trailing the fourth one behind it.
"The brute!" Kate cried, as she fondled the injured animal and pouredindignant tears over it. Her gentle soul was so stirred by the cowardlydeed that she felt that she could have flown at her late suitor were hestill in the room. "Poor little Flo! That kick was meant for me inreality, my little pet. Never mind, dear, there are bright days coming,and he has not forgotten me, Flo. I know it! I know it!" The littledog whined sympathetically, and licked its mistress's hand as though itwere looking into its canine future, and could also discern better daysahead.
Ezra Girdlestone, fierce and lowering, tr
amped into the library, andtold his father brusquely of the result of his wooing. What occurred inthat interview was never known to any third person. The servants, whohad some idea that something was afoot, have recorded that at thebeginning of the conversation the bass voice of the son and the highraucous tones of the father were heard in loud recrimination andreproach. Then they suddenly sunk into tones so low that there mighthave been complete silence in the room for all that any one could tellfrom the passage outside. This whispered conversation may have lastedthe greater part of an hour. At the end of it the young merchantdeparted for the City. It has been remarked that from that time therecame a change over both the father and the son--a change so subtle thatIt could hardly be described, though it left its mark upon them both.It was not that the grey, wolfish face of the old man looked even greyerand fiercer, or that the hard, arrogant expression of Ezra deepened intosomething even more sinister. It was that a shadow hung over both theirbrows--a vague indefinable shadow--as of men who carry a thought intheir minds on which it is not good to dwell.
During that long hour Kate had remained in the breakfast-room, stillnursing her injured companion, and very busy with her own thoughts.She was as convinced now that Tom had been true to her as if she had hadthe assurance from his own lips. Still there was much that wasunaccountable--much which she was unable to fathom. A vague sense ofthe wickedness around her depressed and weighed her down. What deepscheme could these men have invented to keep him away from her duringthese long weeks? Was he, too, under some delusion, or the victim ofsome conspiracy? Whatever had been done was certainly connived at byher guardian. For the first time a true estimate of the character ofthe elder Girdlestone broke upon her, and she dimly realized that thepious, soft-spoken merchant was more to be dreaded than his brutal son.A shudder ran through her whole frame as, looking up, she saw himstanding before her.
His appearance was far from reassuring. His hands were clasped behindhis back, his head bent forward, and he surveyed her with a mostmalignant expression upon his face.
"Well done!" he said, with a bitter smile. "Well done! This is a goodmorning's work, Miss Harston. You have repaid your father's friend forthe care he has bestowed upon you."
"My only wish is to leave your house," cried Kate, with an angry flashin her deep blue eyes. "You are a cruel, wicked, hypocritical old man.You have deceived me about Mr. Dimsdale. I read it in your son's face,and now I read it in your own. How could you do it--oh, how could youhave the heart?"
John Girdlestone was fairly staggered by this blaze of feminine anger inhis demure and obedient ward. "God knows," he said, "whatever my faultsmay have been, neglect of you has not been among them. I am notimmaculate. Even the just man falleth. If I have endeavoured to weanyou from this foolish love affair of yours, it has been entirely becauseI saw that it was against your own interests."
"You have told lies in order to turn me away from the only man who everloved me. You and your odious son have conspired to ruin my happinessand break my heart. What have you told him that keeps him away?I shall see him and learn the truth." Kate's face was unnaturally calmand rigid as she faced her guardian's angry gaze.
"Silence!" the old man cried hoarsely. "You forget your position inthis house. You are presuming too much upon my kindness. As to thisgirl's fancy of yours, you may put all thought of it out of your head.I am still your guardian, and I should be culpably remiss if I everallowed you to see this man again. This afternoon you shall come withme to Hampshire."
"To Hampshire?"
"Yes. I have taken a small country seat there, where we intend to spendsome months of the winter. You shall leave it when you have reconciledyourself to forget these romantic ideas of yours--but not till then."
"Then I shall never leave it," said Kate, with a sigh.
"That will depend upon yourself. You shall at least be guarded therefrom the advances of designing persons. When you come of age you mayfollow your own fancies. Until then my conscience demands, and the lawallows, that I should spare no pains to protect you from your own folly.We start from Waterloo at four." Girdlestone turned for the door, butlooked round as he was leaving the room. "May God forgive you," he saidsolemnly, raising his lean hands towards the ceiling, "for what you havedone this day!"
Poor Kate, left to herself, was much concerned by this fresh misfortune.She knew that her guardian had power to carry out his plan, and thatthere was no appeal from his decision. What could she do? She had nota friend in the wide world to whom she could turn for advice orassistance. It occurred to her to fly to the Dimsdales at Kensington,and throw herself upon their compassion. It was only the thought of Tomwhich prevented her. In her heart she had fully exonerated him, yetthere was much to be explained before they could be to each other as ofold. She might write to Mrs. Dimsdale, but then her guardian had nottold her what part of Hampshire they were going to. She finally came tothe conclusion that it would be better to wait, and to write when shehad reached her destination. In the meantime, she went drearily to herroom and began packing, aided by the ruddy-cheeked maid, Rebecca.
At half-past three a cab drove up to the door, and the old merchantstepped out of it. The boxes were thrown upon the top, and the younglady curtly ordered to get in. Girdlestone took his seat beside her,and gave a sign to the cabman to drive on. As they rattled out of thesquare, Kate looked back at the great gloomy mansion in which she hadspent the last three years of her life. Had she known what the futurewas to bring, it is possible that she would have clung even to thatsombre and melancholy old house as to an ark of safety.
Another cab passed through Eccleston Square that evening--a cab whichbore a pale-faced and wild-eyed young man, who looked ever and anonimpatiently out of the window to see if he were nearing his destination.Long before reaching No. 69 he had opened the door, and was standingupon the step. The instant that the cab pulled up he sprang off, andrang loudly at the great brass bell which flanked the heavy door.
"Is Mr. Girdlestone in?" he asked, as Rebecca appeared at the door.
"No, sir."
"Miss Harston, is she at home?" he said excitedly.
"No, sir. They have both gone away."
"Gone away!"
"Yes. Gone into the country, sir. And Mr. Ezra, too, sir."
"And when are they coming back?" he asked, in bewilderment.
"They are not coming back."
"Impossible!" Tom cried in despair. "What is their address, then?"
"They have left no address. I am sorry I can't help you. Good night,sir." Rebecca closed the door, laughing maliciously at the visitor'sbewildered looks. She knew the facts of the case well, and having longbeen jealous of her young mistress, she was not sorry to find thingsgoing wrong with her.
Tom Dimsdale stood upon the doorstep looking blankly into the night.He felt dazed and bewildered. What fresh villainy was this? Was it aconfirmation of the German's report, or was it a contradiction of it?Cold beads stood upon his forehead as he thought of the possibility ofsuch a thing. "I must find her," he cried, with clenched hands, andturned away heartsick into the turmoil and bustle of the London streets.