"He has settled that with himself. He has gained by the death of Tom Halliday, and depend upon it he has made his plans to gain by the death of Tom Halliday"s daughter."
"I won"t believe it," the old woman repeated in the same dogged tone.
For such resistance as this Mr. Hawkehurst was in no manner prepared. He looked at his watch. The half hour was nearly gone. There was little more time for argument.
"Great Heaven!" he said to himself, "what argument can I employ to influence this woman"s obdurate heart?"
What argument, indeed? He knew of none stronger than those he had used.
He stood for some moments battled and helpless, staring absently at the face of his watch, and wondering what he was to do next.
As Valentine Hawkehurst stood thus, there came a loud ringing of the bell, following quickly on the sound of wheels grinding against the kerbstone.
Mrs. Woolper opened the door and looked out into the hall.
"It"s master!" cried one of the maids, emerging from the disorganized dining-room, "and missus, and Miss Halliday, and Ma.s.s Paget--and all the house topsy-turvy!"
"Charlotte here!" exclaimed Valentine. "You are dreaming, girl!"
"And you told me she was dying!" said Mrs. Woolper, with a look of triumph. "What becomes of your fine story now?"
"It _is_ Miss Halliday!" cried the housemaid, as she opened the door.
"And O my!" she added, looking back into the hall with a sorrowful face, "how bad she do look!"
Valentine ran out to the gate. Yes; there were two cabs, one laden with luggage, the two cabmen busy about the doors of the vehicles, a little group of stragglers waiting to see the invalid young lady alight. It was the next best thing to a funeral.
"O, don"t she look white!" cried a shrill girl with a baby in her arms.
"In a decline, I dessay, pore young thing," said a matron, in an audible aside to her companion.
Valentine dashed amongst the group of stragglers. He pushed away the girl with the baby, the housemaid who had run out behind him, Mr. Sheldon, the cabman, every one; and in the next moment Charlotte was in his arms, and he was carrying her into the house.
He felt as if he had been in a dream; and all that exceptional force which the dreamer sometimes feels he felt in this crisis. He carried his dear burden into the study, followed by Mr. Sheldon and Diana Paget. The face that dropped upon his shoulder showed deadly white against his dark-blue coat; the hand which he clasped in his, ah, how listless and feeble!
"Valentine!" the girl said, in a low drowsy voice, lifting her eyes to his face, "is this you? I have been so ill, so tired; and they would bring me away. To be near the doctors, papa says. Do you think any doctors will be able to cure me?"
"Yes, dear, with G.o.d"s help. I am glad he has brought you here. And now I must run away," he said; when he had placed Charlotte in Mr. Sheldon"s arm-chair, "for a very little while, darling. I have seen a doctor, a man in whom I have more confidence than I have in Dr. Doddleson. I am going to fetch him, my dearest," he added tenderly, as he felt the feeble hand cling to his; "I shall not be long. Do you think I shall not hurry back to you? My dearest one, when I return, it will be to stay with you--for ever."
She was too ill to note the significance of his words; she only knew that they gave her comfort. He hurried from the room. In less than an hour he must be at the London Bridge terminus, or in all probability the five o"clock train would carry Dr. Jedd to St. Leonards; and on Dr. Jedd his chief hope rested.
"Do you believe me now?" he asked of Mrs. Woolper as he went out into the hall.
"I do," she answered in a whisper; "and I will do what you want."
She took his hand in her wrinkled h.o.r.n.y palm and grasped it firmly. He felt that in this firm pressure there was a promise sacred as any oath ever registered on earth. He met Mr. Sheldon on the threshold, and pa.s.sed him without a word. The time might come in which he would have to mask his thoughts, and stoop to the hateful hypocrisy of civility to this man; but he had not yet schooled himself to do this. At the gate he met George Sheldon.
"What"s up now?" asked the lawyer.
"Did you send your message?"
"Yes; I telegraphed to Phil."
"It has been trouble wasted. He has brought her home."
"What does that mean?"
"Who knows? I pray G.o.d that he may have overreached himself. I have set a watch upon my dear love, and no further harm shall come to her. I am going to fetch Dr. Jedd."
"And you are not afraid of Phil"s smelling a rat?"
"I am afraid of nothing that he can do henceforward. If it is not too late to save her, I will save her."
He waited for no more, but jumped into the cab. "London Bridge terminus!
You must get me there by a quarter to five," he said to the driver.
George Sheldon went no further than the gate of his brother"s domain.
"I wonder whether the Harold"s Hill people will send that telegram after him," he thought. "It"ll be rather unpleasant for Fred Orcott if they do.
But it"s ten to one they won"t. The normal condition of every seaside lodging-house keeper in one degree removed from idiotcy."
Book the Ninth.
THROUGH THE FURNACE
CHAPTER I.
SOMETHING TOO MUCH.
"Is that young man mad?" asked Philip Sheldon, as he went into his study immediately after Valentine had pa.s.sed him in the hall.
The question was not addressed to any particular individual; and Diana, who was standing near the door by which Mr. Sheldon entered, took upon herself to answer it.
"I think he is very anxious," she said in a half whisper.
"What brought him here just now? He did not know we were coming home."
Mrs. Woolper answered this question.
"He came for something for Miss Charlotte, sir; some books as she"d had from the library. They"d not been sent back; and he came to see about their being sent."
"What books?" murmured Charlotte. But a pressure from Mrs. Woolper"s hand prevented her saying more.