"Oh, Ned! Ned!" cried the poor woman. "I"ll have no man after thee." And a violent burst of grief followed.
"Thou"ll do like the rest," said the dying man. "Hold thy bellering, and let me speak, that"s got no time to lose. How much will ye allow her, old lad?"
"Six shillings a week, Ned."
"And what is to come of young "un?"
"We"ll apprentice him."
"To my trade?"
"You know better than that, Ned. You are a freeman; but he won"t be a freeman"s son by our law, thou knowst. But there"s plenty of outside trades in Hillsbro". We"ll bind him to one of those, and keep an eye on him, for thy sake."
"Well, I must take what I can get."
"And little enough too," said Eliza Watney. "Now do you know that they have set upon Mr. Little and beaten him within an inch of his life? Oh, Ned, you can"t approve that, and him our best friend."
"Who says I approve it, thou fool?"
"Then tell the gentleman who the villain was; for I believe you know."
"I"ll tell "em summut about it."
Grotait turned pale; but still kept his glittering eye fixed on the sick man.
"The job was offered to me; but I wouldn"t be in it. I know that much.
Says I, "He has had his squeak.""
"Who offered you the job?" asked Mr. Holdfast. And at this moment Ransome came in.
"What, another black coat!" said Simmons. "----, if you are not like so many crows over a dead horse." He then began to wander, and Holdfast"s question remained unanswered.
This aberration continued so long, and accompanied with such interruptions of the breathing, that both Holdfast and Ransome despaired of ever hearing another rational word from the man"s lips.
They lingered on, however, and still Grotait sat at the foot of the bed, with his glittering eye fixed on the dying man.
Presently Simmons became silent, and reflected.
"Who offered me the job to do Little?" said he, in a clear rational voice.
"Yes," said Mr. Holdfast. "And who paid you to blow up the forge?"
Simmons made no reply. His fast fleeting powers appeared unable now to hold an idea for above a second or two.
Yet, after another short interval, he seemed to go back a second time to the subject as intelligibly as ever.
"Master Editor!" said he, with a sort of start.
"Yes." And Holdfast stepped close to his bedside.
"Can you keep a secret?"
Grotait started up.
"Yes!" said Holdfast, eagerly.
"THEN SO CAN I."
These were the last words of Ned Simmons. He died, false to himself, but true to his fellows, and faithful to a terrible confederacy, which, in England and the nineteenth century, was Venice and the middle ages over again.
CHAPTER XIX.
Mr. Coventry, relieved of a great and immediate anxiety, could now turn his whole attention to Grace Carden; and she puzzled him. He expected to see her come down beaming with satisfaction at the great event of last night. Instead of that she appeared late, with cheeks rather pale, and signs of trouble under her fair eyes.
As the day wore on, she showed positive distress of mind, irritable and dejected by turns, and quite unable to settle to anything.
Mr. Coventry, with all his skill, was quite at fault. He could understand her being in anxiety for news about Little; but why not relieve her anxiety by sending a servant to inquire? Above all, why this irritation? this positive suffering?
A mystery to him, there is no reason why it should be one to my readers.
Grace Carden, for the first time in her life, was in the clutches of a fiend, a torturing fiend, called jealousy.
The thought that another woman was nursing Henry Little all this time distracted her. It would have been such heaven to her to tend him, after those cruel men had hurt him so; but that pure joy was given to another, and that other loved him, and could now indulge and show her love. Show it? Why, she had herself opened his eyes to Jael"s love, and advised him to reward it.
And now she could do nothing to defend herself. The very improvement in Henry"s circ.u.mstances held her back. She could not write to him and say, "Now I know you are Mr. Raby"s nephew, that makes all the difference."
That would only give him fresh offense, and misrepresent herself; for in truth she had repented her letter long before the relationship was discovered.
No; all she could do was to wait till Jael Dence came up, and then charge her with some subtle message, that might make Henry Little pause if he still loved her.
She detected Coventry watching her. She fled directly to her own room, and there sat on thorns, waiting for her rival to come and give her an opportunity.
But afternoon came, and no Jael; evening came, and no Jael.
"Ah!" thought Grace, bitterly, "she is better employed than to come near me. She is not a self-sacrificing fool like me. When I had the advantage, I gave it up; now she has got it, she uses it without mercy, decency, or grat.i.tude. And that is the way to love. Oh! if my turn could but come again. But it never will."
Having arrived at this conclusion, she lay on the couch in her own room, and was thoroughly miserable.
She came down to dinner, and managed to take a share in the conversation, but was very languid; and Coventry detected that she had been crying.
After dinner, Knight brought in a verbal message from Jael to Mr. Raby, to the effect that the young gentleman was stiff and sore, and she had sent into Hillsborough for Dr. Amboyne.
"Quite right of her," said the squire. "You needn"t look so alarmed, Grace; there are no bones broken; and he is in capital hands: he couldn"t have a tenderer nurse than that great strapping la.s.s, nor a better doctor than my friend and maniac, Amboyne."
Next morning, soon after breakfast, Raby addressed his guests as follows:--"I was obliged to go into Hillsborough yesterday, and postpone the purification of that sacred building. But I set a watch on it; and this day I devote to a pious purpose; I"m going to un-Little the church of my forefathers; and you can come with me, if you choose." This invitation, however, was given in a tone so gloomy, and so little cordial, that Coventry, courtier-like, said in reply, he felt it would be a painful sight to his host, and the fewer witnesses the better. Raby nodded a.s.sent, and seemed pleased. Not so Miss Carden. She said: "If that is your feeling, you had better stay at home. I shall go. I have something to tell Mr. Raby when we get there; and I"m vain enough to think it will make him not quite so angry about the poor dear old church."
"Then come, by all means," said Raby; "for I"m angry enough at present."