CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE JOURNEY TO THE PRIORY.
It was already dusk when John Girdlestone and his ward reached WaterlooStation. He gave orders to the guard that the luggage should bestamped, but took care that she should not hear the name of theirdestination. Hurrying her rapidly down the platform amid the confusedheaps of luggage and currents of eager passengers, he pushed her into afirst-class carriage, and sprang after her just as the bell rang and thewheels began to revolve.
They were alone. Kate crouched up into the corner among the cushions,and wrapped her rug round her, for it was bitterly cold. The merchantpulled a note-book from his pocket and proceeded by the light of thelamp above him to add up columns of figures. He sat very upright in hisseat, and appeared to be as absorbed in his work as though he were amonghis papers in Fenchurch Street. He neither glanced at his companion normade any inquiry as to her comfort.
As she sat opposite to him she could not keep her eyes from his hardangular face, every rugged feature of which was exaggerated by theflickering yellow light above him. Those deep-set eyes and sunkencheeks had been familiar to her for years. How was it that they now,for the first time, struck her as being terrible? Was it that newexpression which had appeared upon them, that hard inexorable set aboutthe mouth, which gave a more sinister character to his whole face?As she gazed at him an ineffable loathing and dread rose in her soul,and she could have shrieked out of pure terror. She put her hand up toher throat with a gasp to keep down the sudden inclination to cry out.As she did so her guardian glanced over the top of the note-book withhis piercing light grey eyes.
"Don't get hysterical!" he cried. "You have given us trouble enoughwithout that."
"Oh, why are you so harsh?" she cried, throwing out her arms towards himin eloquent entreaty, while the tears coursed down her cheeks."What have I done that is so dreadful? I _could_ not love your son, andI do love another. I am so grieved to have offended you. You used tobe kind and like a father to me."
"And a nice return you have made me! 'Honour your father,' says thegood old Book. What honour did you give me save to disobey everycommand which I have ever given you. I have to blame myself to someextent for having allowed you to go on that most pernicious trip toScotland, where you were thrown into the company of this youngadventurer by his scheming old fool of a father."
It would have been a study for a Rembrandt to depict the craggy,strongly lined face of the old merchant, and the beautiful pleading onewhich looked across at him, with the light throwing strange shadows overboth. As he spoke she brushed the tears from her eyes and an angryflush sprang to her cheeks.
"You may say what you like of me," she said bitterly. "I suppose thatis one of your privileges as my guardian. You have no right, however,to speak evil of my friends. 'He who calleth his brother a fool,' Ithink the good old Book says something of that."
Girdlestone was staggered for a moment by this unexpected counter.Then he took off his broad-brimmed hat and bowed his head with droopinglids.
"Out of the mouths of babes and of sucklings!" he cried. "You areright. I spoke too warmly. It is my zeal for you which betrays me."
"The same zeal which made you tell me so many things which I now know tobe untrue about Mr. Dimsdale," said Kate, waxing more fearless as hermind turned to her wrongs.
"You are becoming impertinent," he answered, and resumed hiscalculations in his note-book.
Kate cowered back into her corner again, while the train thundered andscreeched and rattled through the darkness. Looking through the steamywindow, nothing was to be seen save the twinkle here and there of thelights of the scattered country cottages. Occasionally a red signallamp would glare down upon her like the bloodshot eye of some demon whopresided over this kingdom of iron and steam. Far behind a lurid trailof smoke marked the way that they had come. To Kate's mind it was allas weird and gloomy and cheerless even as the thoughts within her.
And they were gloomy enough. Where was she going? How long was shegoing for? What was she to do when there? On all these points she wasabsolutely ignorant. What was the object of this sudden flight fromLondon? Her guardian could have separated her from the Dimsdales inmany less elaborate ways than this. Could it be that he intended somesystem of pressure and terrorism by which she should be forced to acceptEzra as a suitor. She clenched her little white teeth as she thought ofit, and registered a vow that nothing in this world would ever bring herto give in upon that point. There was only one bright spot in heroutlook. When she reached her destination she would at once write toMrs. Dimsdale, tell her where she was, and ask her frankly for anexplanation of their sudden silence. How much wiser if she had done sobefore. Only a foolish pride had withheld her from it.
The train had already stopped at one large junction. Looking outthrough the window she saw by the lamps that it was Guildford.After another interminable interval of clattering and tossing andplunging through the darkness, they came to a second station ofimportance, Petersfield. "We are nearing our destination," Girdlestoneremarked, shutting up his book.
This proved to be a small wayside station, illuminated by a single lamp,which gave no information as to the name. They were the only passengerswho alighted, and the train rolled on for Portsmouth, leaving them withtheir trunks upon the dark and narrow platform. It was a black nightwith a bitter wind which carried with it a suspicion of dampness, whichmight have been rain, or might have been the drift of the neighbouringocean. Kate was numb with the cold, and even her gaunt companionstamped his feet and shivered as he looked about him.
"I telegraphed for a trap," said he to the guard. "Is there not onewaiting?"
"Yes, sir; if you be Mister Girdlestone, there's a trap from the _Flyin'Bull_. Here, Carker, here's your gentleman."
At this summons a rough-looking ostler emerged into the circle of lightthrown by the single lamp and, touching his hat, announced in a surlyvoice that he was the individual In question. The guard and he thenproceeded to drag the trunks to the vehicle. It was a small wagonette,with a high seat for the driver in front.
"Where to, sir?" asked the driver, when the travellers had taken theirseats.
"To Hampton Priory. Do you know where that is?"
"Better'n two mile from here, and close to the railway line," said theman. "There hain't been no one livin' there for two year at the least."
"We are expected and all will be ready for us," said Girdlestone."Go as fast as you can, for we are cold."
The driver cracked his whip, and the horse started at a brisk trot downthe dark country road.
Looking round her, Kate saw that they were passing through a largecountry village, consisting of a broad main street, with a fewinsignificant offshoots branching away on either side. A church stoodon one side, and on the other the village inn. The door was open andthe light shining through the red curtains of the bar parlour lookedwarm and cosy. The clink of glasses and the murmur of cheerful voicessounded from within. Kate, as she looked across, felt doubly cheerlessand lonely by the contrast. Girdlestone looked too, but with differentemotions.
"Another plague spot," he cried, jerking his head in that direction."In town or country it is the same. These poison-sellers are scatteredover the whole face of the land, and every one of them is a focus ofdisease and misery."
"Beg your pardon, sir," the surly driver observed, screwing round in hisseat. "That 'ere's the _Flyin' Bull_, sir, where I be in sarvice, andit ain't no poison-seller, but a real right down good house."
"All liquor is poison, and every house devoted to the sale of it is asinful house," Girdlestone said curtly.
"Don't you say that to my maister," remarked the driver. "He be a bigman wi' a ter'bly bad temper and a hand like a leg o' mutton. Hold up,will ye!"
The last remark was addressed to the horse, which had stumbled in goingdown a sharp incline. They were out of the village by this time, andthe road was lined on either side by high hedges, which threw a denseshado
w over everything. The feeble lamps of the wagonette bored twolittle yellow tunnels of light on either side. The man let the reinslie loose upon the horse's back, and the animal picked out the roadwayfor itself. As they swung round from the narrow lane on to a broaderroad Kate broke out into a little cry of pleasure.
"There's the sea!" she exclaimed joyfully. The moon had broken frombehind the clouds and glittered on the vast silvery expanse.
"Yes, that's the sea," the driver said, "and them lights down yonder isat Lea Claxton, where the fisher-folk live; and over there," pointingwith his whip to a long dark shadow on the waters, "is the Oilywoite."
"The what?"
"The Isle of Wight, he means," said Girdlestone. The driver looked athim reproachfully. "Of course," said he, "if you Lunnon folks knowsmore about it than we who are born an' bred in the place, it's no mannero' use our tryin' to teach you." With this sarcastic comment he withdrewinto himself, and refused to utter another word until the end of theirjourney.
It was not long before this was attained. Passing down a deeply ruttedlane, they came to a high stone wall which extended for a couple ofhundred yards. It had a crumbling, decaying appearance, as far as couldbe judged in the uncertain light. This wall was broken by a single irongate, flanked by two high pillars, each of which was surmounted by someweather-beaten heraldic device. Passing through they turned up awinding avenue, with lines of trees on either side, which shot theirbranches so thickly above them that they might have been driving throughsome sombre tunnel. This avenue terminated in an open space, in themidst of which towered a great irregular whitewashed building, which wasthe old Priory. All below it was swathed in darkness, but the upperwindows caught the glint of the moon and emitted a pallid and sicklyglimmer. The whole effect was so weird and gloomy that Kate felt herheart sink within her. The wagonette pulled up in front of the door,and Girdlestone assisted her to alight.
There had been no lights or any symptoms of welcome, but as they pulleddown the trunks the door opened and a little old woman appeared with acandle in her hand, which she carefully shaded from the wind while shepeered out into the darkness.
"Is that Mr. Girdlestone?" she cried.
"Of course it is," the merchant said impatiently. "Did I not telegraphand tell you that I was coming?"
"Yes, yes," she answered, hobbling forward with the light. "And this isthe young lady? Come in, my dear, come in. We have not got things verysmart yet, but they will soon come right."
She led the way through a lofty hall into a large sitting-room, which,no doubt, had been the monkish refectory in bygone days. It looked verybleak and cold now, although a small fire sputtered and sparkled in thecorner of the great iron grate. There was a pan upon the fire, and thedeal table in the centre of the room was laid out roughly as for a meal.The candle which the old woman had carried in was the only light, thoughthe flickering fire cast strange fantastic shadows in the furthercorners and among the great oaken rafters which formed the ceiling.
"Come up to the fire, my dear," said the old woman. "Take off yourcloak and warm yourself." She held her own shrivelled arms towards theblaze, as though her short exposure to the night air had chilled her.Glancing at her, Kate saw that her face was sharp-featured and cunning,with a loose lower lip which exposed a line of yellow teeth, and a chinwhich bristled with a tuft of long grey hairs.
From without there came the crunching of gravel as the wagonette turnedand rattled down the avenue. Kate listened to the sound of the wheelsuntil they died away in the distance. They seemed somehow to be thelast link which bound her to the human race. Her heart failed hercompletely, and she burst into tears.
"What's the matter then?" the old woman asked, looking up at her."What are ye crying about?"
"Oh, I am so miserable and so lonely," she cried. "What have I donethat I should be so unhappy? Why should I be taken to this horrible,horrible place?"
"What's the matter with the place?" asked her withered companion."I don't see nought amiss with it. Here's Mr. Girdlestone a-comin'.He don't grumble at the place, I'll warr'nt."
The merchant was not in the best of tempers, for he had had analtercation with the driver about the fare, and was cold into thebargain. "At it again?" he said roughly, as he entered. "It is I whoought to weep, I think, who have been put to all this trouble andinconvenience by your disobedience and weakness of mind."
Kate did not answer, but sat upon a coarse deal chair beside the fire,and buried her face in her hands. All manner of vague fears and fanciesfilled her mind. What was Tom doing now? How quickly he would fly toher rescue did he but know how strangely she was situated!She determined that her very first action next morning should be towrite to Mrs. Dimsdale and to tell her, not only where she was, but allthat had occurred. The reflection that she could do this cheered herheart, and she managed to eat a little of the supper which the old womanhad now placed upon the table. It was a rough stew of some sort, butthe long journey had given an edge to their appetites, and the merchant,though usually epicurean in his tastes, ate a hearty meal.
When supper was over the crone, who was addressed by Girdlestone asJorrocks, led the way upstairs and showed Kate to her room. If thefurniture of the dining-room had been Spartan in its simplicity, thiswas even more so, for there was nothing in it save a small ironbedstead, much rusted from want of use, and a high wooden box on whichstood the simplest toilet requisites. In spite of the poverty of theapartment Kate had never been more glad to enter her luxurious chamberat home. The little carpetless room was a haven of rest where she wouldbe left, for one night at least, to her own thoughts. As she lay inbed, however, she could hear far away the subdued murmur ofGirdlestone's voice and the shrill tones of the old woman. They were indeep and animated converse. Though they were too far distant for her todistinguish a word, something told her that their talk was aboutherself, and the same instinct assured her that it boded her littlegood.