"But it might not, and what then? Are you prepared to answer that?" And "Little Dudleigh," who had been speaking about these things as lightly and as carelessly as a lady would speak about a dress or the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs of a bonnet, paused, and looked at her inquiringly. "The fact is," he continued, as Edith did not answer, "you must be willing to run the risk of _killing a man_. Your liberty is worth this price. If you say to me, "Open those gates," that is what you must encounter. Will you face it? Say the word, and now, _now_, at this very moment, I will lead you there."
The offer of immediate escape was thus presented, and for a moment Edith hesitated, but the cost was too great.
"Oh," she cried, "this is terrible! But I will not consent. No, I will suffer longer rather than pay so frightful a price as human life."
"Well," said Dudleigh, "after all, since you have decided this way, I think you are about right. After all, there is really no necessity for so desperate a course. But I have a high idea of what a lady has a right to demand of a gentleman, and I am ready to do what you say."
"But you have other plans, have you not?"
"Yes, but slow ones--safe but slow. The question is, can you wait? Can you endure your present life? and how long?"
"Rather than cause the loss of life," said Edith, "I would endure this very much longer."
"Oh, you will not have to endure it so very long. If you are not too impatient, the time may pa.s.s quickly too. But before I make any further proposals, will you allow me to ask you one question? It is this: Suppose you were to escape to-day, where would you go?"
"I have thought about that," said Edith. "My dearest friend is Miss Plympton. She is the head of the school where I have spent the greater part of my life. She is the one to whom I should naturally go, but she keeps a boarding-school, and I do not wish to go there and meet my old school-mates and see so many. I wish to be secluded. I have sometimes thought of going to that neighborhood, and finding a home where I could occasionally see Miss Plympton, and at other times I have thought of going to my uncle, Sir Lionel Dudleigh."
At this last remark Dudleigh opened his eyes.
"Who?" he asked. "I don"t understand."
"He is my uncle, you know," said Edith--"that is, by marriage--and therefore he is naturally the one to whom I should look for defense against Wiggins. In that case Sir Lionel will be far better than poor dear Auntie Plympton. I"m afraid that Wiggins has already frightened her away from me."
"But how would you get to Sir Lionel?" asked Dudleigh, with a puzzled expression.
"Well, that is what I want to find out. I have no idea where he lives.
But you can tell me all about him. I should have asked before, but other things interfered. I will go to him. I feel confident that he will not cast me off."
"Cast you off! I should think not," said Dudleigh; "but the difficulty is how to find him. You can get to Dudleigh Manor easily enough--every body knows where that is. But what then? n.o.body is there."
"What! Is not Sir Lionel there?"
"Sir Lionel there! I only wish he was. Why, is it possible that you do not know that Sir Lionel is positively not in England? He travels all the time, and only comes home occasionally. Perhaps you know the cause--his family troubles ten years ago. He had a row with his wife then, and it has blighted his life. Sir Lionel? Why, at this moment I dare say he is somewhere among the Ural Mountains, or Patagonia, or some other equally remote country. But who told you that he was in England?"
Edith was silent. She had taken it for granted that Sir Lionel lived in his own home.
"Can I not write to him?" she asked.
"Of course, if you can only secure his address; and that I will do my utmost to find out for you. But to do this will be a work of time."
"Yes," sighed Edith.
"And what can you do in the mean time? Where can you go?"
"There is Miss Plympton."
"Yes, your teacher. And you don"t wish to go to the school, but to some private place near it. Now what sort of a woman is Miss Plympton? Bold and courageous?"
"I"m afraid not," said Edith, after a thoughtful pause. "I know that she loves me like a mother, and when I first came here I should have relied on her to the utmost. But now I don"t know. At any rate, I think she can be easily terrified." And Edith went on to tell about Miss Plympton"s letter to her, and subsequent silence.
"I think with you," said Dudleigh, after Edith had ended, "that the letter is a forgery. But what is difficult to understand is this apparent desertion of you. This may be accounted for, however, in one of two ways. First, Wiggins may actually have seen her, and frightened her in some way. You say she is timid. The other explanation of her silence is that she may be ill."
"Ill!" exclaimed Edith, mournfully.
"It may be so."
"May she not all this time have been trying to rescue me, and been baffled?"
Dudleigh smiled.
"Oh no. If she had tried at all you would have heard something about it before this; something would certainly have been done. The claim of Wiggins would have been contested in a court of law. Oh no; she has evidently done nothing. In fact, I think that, sad as it may seem to you, there can be no doubt about her illness. You say she left you here.
No doubt she felt terrible anxiety. The next day she could not see you.
Her love for you, and her anxiety, would, perhaps, be too much for her.
She may have been taken home ill."
Edith sighed. The picture of Miss Plympton"s grief was too much for her.
"At any rate," said she, "if I can"t find any friends--if Sir Lionel is gone, and poor dear auntie is ill, I can be free. I can help nurse her.
Any life is better than this; and I can put my case in the hands of the lawyers."
"You are, of course, well supplied with money," said Dudleigh, carelessly.
"Money?"
"Yes; so as to travel, you know, and live, and pay your lawyers."
"I have no money," said Edith, helplessly; "that is, not more than a few sovereigns. I did not think of that."
"No money?"
"No--only a little."
"No money! Why, how is that? No money? Why, what can you do?"
"Wiggins manages every thing, and has all the money."
"You have never obtained any from him as yet, then?"
"I have never needed any."
"He spends your own money in paying these spies and jailers. But if you have no money, how can you manage to live, even if you do escape?"
Edith looked down in despair. The idea of money had never entered her mind. Yet now, since it was mentioned, she felt its importance. Yes, money was the chief thing; without that flight was useless, and liberty impossible. But how could she get it? Wiggins would not give her any.
And where could she go? Could she go to Miss Plympton"s, to be a dependent upon her at the school? That thought was intolerable. Much as she loved Miss Plympton, she could not descend to that.
"You are certainly not very practical," said Dudleigh, "or your first thought would have been about this. But you have none, you say, and so it can not be remedied. Is there any thing else? You see you can escape; but what then?"
Dudleigh was silent, and Edith looked at him in deep suspense.