Which might be all very well; but I thought it would be more to the purpose could she have read it in Pym"s. Pym"s was a handsome face, but not one to be trusted.
She glided into the room behind Thomas and his big tea-tray, seized upon a cup at once, and stood with it as coolly as though she had never been away. Sir Dace, talking near the window with old Paul, looked across at her, but said nothing. I wondered how long they had been in the drawing-room, and whether he had noticed her absence.
It was, I think, the next afternoon but one that I went to Maythorn Bank, and found Jack Tanerton there. The Squire had offered to drive Sir Dace to Worcester, leaving him to fix the day. Sir Dace wrote a note to fix the following day, if that would suit; and the Squire sent me to say it would.
Coralie was in the little drawing-room with Sir Dace, but not Verena.
Jack seemed to be quite at home with them; they were talking with animation about some of the ports over the seas, which all three of them knew so well. When I left, Jack came with me, and Sir Dace walked with us to the gate. And there we came upon Mr. Pym and Miss Verena promenading together in the lane as comfortably as you please. You should have seen Sir Dace Fontaine"s face. A dark face at all times; frightfully dark then.
Taking Verena by the shoulder, never speaking a word, he marched her in at the gate, and pushed her up the path towards the house. Then he turned round to Pym.
"Mr. Edward Pym," said he, "as I once had occasion to warn you off my premises in the Colonies, I now warn you off these. This is my house, and I forbid you to approach it. I forbid you to attempt to hold intercourse of any kind with my daughters. Do you understand me, sir?"
"Quite so, Uncle Dace," replied the young man: and there was the same covert defiance in his tone that he had used the other day to his captain.
"I should like to know what brings you in this neighbourhood?" continued Sir Dace. "You cannot have any legitimate business here. I recommend you to leave it."
"I will think of it," said Pym, as he lifted his cap to us generally, and went his way.
"What does it mean, Johnny?" spoke Tanerton, breathlessly, when we were alone. "Is Pym making-up to that sweet girl?"
"I fancy so. Wanting to make up, at least."
"Heaven help her, then! It"s like his impudence."
"They are first cousins, you see."
"So much the worse. I expect, though, Pym will find his match in Sir Dace. I don"t like him, by the way, Johnny."
"Whom? Pym?"
"Sir Dace. I don"t like his countenance: there"s too much secretiveness in it for me. And in himself too, unless I am mistaken."
"I am sure there is in Pym."
"I hate Pym!" flashed Jack. And at the moment he looked as if he did.
But would he have acknowledged as much, even to me, had he foreseen the cruel fate that was, all too soon, to place Edward Pym beyond the pale of this world"s hate?--and the dark trouble it would bring home to himself, John Tanerton?
II.
Striding along through South Crabb, and so on down by old Ma.s.sock"s brick-fields, went Sir Dace Fontaine, dark and gloomy. His heavy stick and his heavy tread kept pace together; both might have been the better for a little lightness.
Matters were not going on too smoothly at Maythorn Bank. Seemingly obedient to her father, Verena Fontaine contrived to meet her lover, and did not take extraordinary pains to keep it secret. Sir Dace, watching stealthily, found it out, and felt just about at his wits" end.
He had no power to banish Edward Pym from the place: he had none, one must conclude, to exact submission from Verena. She had observed to me, the first night we met, that American girls grow up to be independent of control in many ways. That is true: and, as it seems to me, they think great guns of themselves for being so.
Sir Dace was beginning to turn his anger on Colonel Letsom. As chance had it, while he strode along this morning, full of wrath, the colonel came in view, turning the corner of the strongest and most savoury brick-yard.
"Why do you harbour that fellow?" broke out Sir Dace, fiercely, without circ.u.mlocution of greeting.
"What, young Pym?" cried the little colonel in his mild way, jumping to the other"s meaning. "I don"t suppose he will stay with us long. He is expecting a summons to join his ship."
"But why do you have him at your house at all?" reiterated Sir Dace, with a thump of his stick. "Why did you take him in?"
"Well, you see, he came down, a stranger, and presented himself to us, calling my wife aunt, though she is not really so, and said he would like to stay a few days with us. We could not turn him away, Sir Dace.
In fact we had no objection to his staying; he behaves himself very well. He"ll not be here long."
"He has been here a great deal too long," growled Sir Dace; and went on his way muttering.
Nothing came of this complaint of Sir Dace Fontaine"s. Edward Pym continued to stay at Crabb, Colonel Letsom not seeing his way clear to send him adrift; perhaps not wanting to. The love-making went on. In the green meadows, where the gra.s.s and the sweet wild flowers were springing up, in the Ravine, between its sheltering banks, redolent of romance; or in the triangle, treading underfoot the late primroses and violets--in one or other of these retreats might Mr. Pym and his ladye-love be seen together, listening to the tender vows whispered between them, and to the birds" songs.
Sir Dace, conscious of all this, grew furious, and matters came to a climax. Verena was bold enough to steal out one night to meet Pym for a promenade with him in the moonlight, and Sir Dace came upon them sitting on the stile at the end of the cross lane. He gave it to Pym hot and strong, marched Verena home, and the next day carried both his daughters away from Crabb.
But I ought to mention that I had gone away from Crabb myself before this, and was in London in with Miss Deveen. So that what had been happening lately I only knew by hearsay.
To what part of the world Sir Dace went, was not known. Naturally Crabb was curious upon the point. Just as naturally it was supposed that Pym, having nothing to stay for, would now take his departure. Pym, however, stayed on.
One morning Mr. Pym called at Maythorn Bank. An elderly woman, one Betty Huntsman, who had been employed by the Fontaines as cook, opened the door to him. The coloured man, Ozias, and a maid, Esther, had gone away with the family. It was the second time Mr. Pym had presented himself upon the same errand: to get the address of Sir Dace Fontaine. Betty, obeying her master"s orders, had refused it; this time he had come to bribe her. Old Betty, however, an honest, kindly old woman, refused to be bribed.
"I can"t do it, sir," she said to Pym. "When the master wrote to give me the address, on account of sending him his foreign letters, he forbade me to disclose it to anybody down here. It is only myself that knows it, sir."
"It is in London; I know that much," affirmed Pym, making a shot at the place, and so far taking in old Betty.
"That much may possibly be known, sir. I cannot tell more."
Back went Pym to Colonel Letsom"s. He sat down and wrote a letter in a young lady"s hand--for he had all kinds of writing at his fingers"
ends--and addressed it to Mrs. Betty Huntsman at Maythorn Bank, Worcestershire. This he enclosed in a bigger envelope, with a few lines from himself, and posted it to London, to one Alfred Saxby, a sailor friend of his. He next, in a careless, off-hand manner, asked Colonel Letsom if he"d mind calling at Maythorn Bank, and asking the old cook there if she could give him her master"s address. Oh, Pym was as cunning as a fox, and could lay out his plans artfully. And Colonel Letsom, unsuspicious as the day, and willing to oblige everybody, did call that afternoon to put the question to Betty; but she told him she was not at liberty to give the address.
The following morning, Pym got the summons he had been expecting, to join his ship. The _Rose of Delhi_ was now ready to take in cargo. After swearing a little, down sat Mr. Pym to his desk, and in a shaky hand, to imitate a sick man"s, wrote back word that he was ill in bed, but would endeavour to be up in London on the morrow.
And, the morning following this, Mrs. Betty Huntsman got a letter from London.
"_London, Thursday._
"DEAR OLD BETTY,
"I am writing to you for papa, who is very poorly indeed. Should Colonel Letsom apply to you for our address here, you are to give it him: papa wishes him to have it. We hope your wrist is better.
"CORALIE FONTAINE."
Betty Huntsman, honest herself, never supposed but the letter was written by Miss Fontaine. By-and-by, there came a ring at the bell.
"My uncle, Colonel Letsom, requested me to call here this morning, as I was pa.s.sing on my way to Timberdale Rectory," began Mr. Pym; for it was he who rang, and by his authoritative voice and lordly manner, one might have thought he was on board a royal frigate, commanding a cargo of refractory soldiers.
"Yes, sir!" answered Betty, dropping a curtsy.
"Colonel Letsom wants your master"s address in London--if you can give it him. He has to write to Sir Dace to-day."