Страница 18 из 65
‘Oh! what am I to do?’ Mrs Thorne gasped, as she clasped her hands and wrung them despairingly; and then, as the form of her daughter was rapidly disappearing, she turned and went quickly back to the house.
On witnessing this bewildering scene I was puzzled. This was love with a vengeance. What a fortunate chap my friend, Archie, was to inspire the girls with so desperate a passion! But then, you know, we don’t respect girls that throw their hearts at fellows’ heads that way, and I am afraid that the sneer on my lips would not have gratified Miss Thorne if she could have seen me listening to her confession of love for a young man who cared less for her than he did for his cricket bat.
But when she turned to face her terrified mother with eyes that gleamed like a cat’s in the moonlight, and raised her right hand and her voice in furious exclamation, a memory of one other face shot into my mind and almost suspended my breath.
‘Good heavens!’ I thought to myself. ‘Can it be possible that that is the likeness I fancied I recognised? If it is I can quite understand that unfortunate woman’s terror, and her as unfortunate daughter’s violent temper. I must question Archie tomorrow.
In the meantime, however, it should not do to let that girl go away down to that river all alone. In her violent mood it would not be safe, and her mother was afraid to follow her – I could see that, so I hurried down by the side of the grounds, avoiding the moonlight as much as I could and seeking the shelter of the trees and shrubs.
It was by this time almost as bright as day, and when I reached the bank of the Loddon, lower down than the spot at which I had seen her in the afternoon, I paused and looked toward it. She was not seated by the tree, but she was standing by the river, her face gleaming white in the moonlight, and her gaze fixed apparently on some object up the stream.
All at once I remembered her words to her mother – words to which I had, at the time they were spoken, paid little heed. She had alluded to Archie being bewitched by a baby girl’s face. Was it possible that she had, in some cu
And it seemed probable, as I watched her, dreading to tell you the truth, that she contemplated suicide. I noticed that Bessie’s home was visible from where she stood, its white wooden roof gleaming brightly just above the foliage at the bend of the stream higher up.
She stood there so immovably for some time that I got tired of watching her, and just as I was thinking of boldly walking down to her and pretending I had been tempted to a stroll by the beauty of the night, she lifted the hand that had been drooping by her side and took her watch from her side.
I saw it gleam in the brilliant beams of the moon and knew that she was consulting it to see the time, for she lifted her eyes from its face to look up at the moon, as if to see how high it was. Then she turned one more steady look up the river before she moved away and went quickly, as one with a purpose, up the gravel walk toward her home.
I felt relieved, and was about following her when I heard a rustle behind me, and looking in the direction of the noise, I saw Archie hurriedly coming toward the river. He was greatly surprised on meeting me and hastily asked what had brought me there.
‘I thought you in bed an hour ago,’ he said. ‘Have you seen anything of Hester? There’s the deuce to pay with the old lady and her it seems, and I’m in for it nicely.’
‘Make your mind easy about your cousin; she’s at home by this time,’ I returned. ‘But what is the what-do-you-call-’em to pay about?’
‘Aunt came to my room a few minutes ago like a woman half cranky with terror. She told me that Hester had gone down to the river in spite of her, and that Hester was in such a state of mind that she was afraid she’d make away with herself. Then she begged and prayed of me to get up and go after her, declaring that the girl’s very existence was in my hands.’
‘Hum!’ grunted I.
‘I tell you what it is, Mark. It is the deuce of a bore -’
‘Will you say what-do-you-call-it of a bore?’ I interrupted coolly.
‘Bosh! It is the deuce of a bore to have a girl threatening to drown herself or kill somebody if a fellow doesn’t make love to her.’
‘Oh! that’s it, is it?’
‘About it, I believe. Aunt almost told me plainly that Hester was breaking her heart at what she was pleased to call my desertion. Sinclair, you know more about women then I do. Is it customary for mothers to stand in bodily fear of their daughters and to be afraid to cross them in any way?’
‘Rather a difficult question, my boy, and one I should prefer not answering, but I may observe that, as a general thing, we could do in the world with a few more obedient and respectful daughters. But I want to ask you a question. Are you quite sure that your Uncle Thorne is dead?’
‘Am I sure? What a strange question! Of course I’m sure. What should aunt pretend he was dead for if he was not?’
‘Another puzzling question, but do you know anyone who saw him dead? Or who saw him even ill?’
‘No! Bah! Sinclair, what a fellow you are! You can’t help fancying a secret in the most natural event. What makes you suppose the possibility of Uncle Thorne’s being alive?’
‘Because I believe I saw him in Melbourne not a month ago!’
‘Gracious! But how could you know him?’
‘You have told me a dozen times of your cousin’s extraordinary likeness to her father, and when I saw her tonight under a strong excitement, her face brought before me another face – a man’s face – with the same terrible expression on the same mould of feature.’
The young chap saw, or imagined he saw in my face, or heard in the tones of my voice, a hint that there was something very serious co
‘Do you know of anything wrong, Mark?’
‘On honour – no, Archie.’
‘Was the man you think was my Uncle Thorne in gaol or a criminal of any sort?’
‘On honour – no again.’
‘Oh, then it’s all right – it’s all fancy on your part. Uncle must be dead, you know. But, for any sake, tell me what I’m to do about Hester? Can’t you give me advice of some kind?’
‘I can give you a great many kinds I don’t doubt. I can give you good, bad, and indifferent – welcome and unwelcome – possible and impossible – but first it will be necessary for you to tell me what strait you are in.’
‘You know well enough! Aunt says that Hester has believed that I loved her ever since we were at school together, and that her very life hung on me. She made me shake in my boots with the responsibility she heaped on my head, and I cried like a big baby when she got down on her knees to me and begged me to save Hester.’
‘And did you tell her about Bessie?’
‘No! I daren’t.’
‘You’re a coward as well as a big baby,’ I said, ‘and an ass to boot. Why couldn’t you tell the woman at once that you loved another and she was your promised wife? I’ve no patience with you; go home and go to bed!’
We were moving toward the house, and had almost reached it, when I spoke the words I have last written, and to which poor Archie made no reply for some minutes. At last he asked -
‘You do not think that I am in any honourable way bound to Hester, then?’
‘Certainly not, if you have told me the truth. You have never made love to her you tell me?’
‘Not unless you call acting like a brother to her is making love. I have escorted her to church, and concerts, and parties, and called her ‘cousin,’ and dear Hester, and so forth, but as to pretending to love her as I love dear Bessie, no!’