CHAPTER XXII.
FIRESHIP AND GALLEON
Meanwhile, the fair Christie was recovering nerve so fast, and established in such bouncing health again, by the red-wheat bread of White Post Farm, that nothing less would satisfy her than to beard – if the metaphor applies to ladies – the lion in the den, the arch-accuser, in the very court of judgment. In a word, she would not rest until she stood face to face with Lady Waldron. She had thought of it often, and became quite eager in that determination, when her brother related to her what had passed, in his interview with Miss Waldron.
Truly it was an enterprise of great pith, for a fair young English girl, to confront the dark majestic foreign lady, stately, arrogant, imperious, and above all, embittered with a cruel wrong, fierce, malignant, rancorous. But for all that, Christie was resolved to do it; though perfectly aware that the Spanish lady would never be "at home" to her, if she could help it.
For this reason, and this alone, as she positively assured herself, did Miss Fox make so long a stay with Mrs. Gilham, the while she was quite well enough to go back to Old Barn, and the path of duty led her to her brother's side. But let her once return to that side, and all hope would be lost of arranging an encounter with the slanderer; inasmuch as Dr. Jemmy would most sternly interdict it. Her good hostess, all the while, was only too glad to keep her; and so was another important member of the quiet household; and even the flippant Rosie was delighted to have such patterns. For Miss Fox had sent for a large supply of dresses, all the way to Foxden, by the key-bugleman of the Defiance; because it would save such a vast amount in carriage, while one was so near the Great Western road. "I can't understand it," protested Doctor Jemmy. "As if men ever could!" replied the young lady.
However, the sweetest slice of sugar-cane must have empty pores too soon, and the last drop of honey drains out of the comb, and the silver voice of the flute expires, and the petals of the fairest rose must flag. All these ideas (which have been repeated, or repeated themselves, for some thousands of years) were present for the first time in all existence – according to his conviction – in the mind of an exalted, yet depressed, young farmer, one fine Monday morning. Miss Fox had received her very last despatch, to the tune of "Roast beef," that morning, and sad to say she had not cut the string, though her pretty fingers flirted with it.
"My dear," said Mrs. Gilham, longing much to see within, inasmuch as she still had a tender heart for dainty tint, and true elegance of tone, "if you wish to save the string – fine whipcord every inch of it – Frank has a picker in the six-bladed knife his Godfather Farrant gave him, that will undo any knot that was ever tied by Samson." Upon him, she meant perhaps; however the result is quite the same.
"No, thank you," answered Christie, with a melancholy glance; "it had better be put in my trunk, as it is. What induced them to send it, when I'm just going away?"
"Going away! Next week, my dear, you may begin to think about it."
"To-morrow, I must go. I am as well as ever. Better a great deal, I ought to say. What did Dr. Gronow say on Saturday? And I came down here; not to enjoy myself, but to keep up the spirits of my poor dear brother."
"Why his spirits are fine, Miss Fox. I only wish my poor dear Frank had a quarter of them. Last night I am sure – and a Sunday too, when you and my son were gone to church – "
"To the little church close by, you mean, with Mrs. Coombes and Mary; because the sermon in the morning had felt so – so edifying."
"Yes to be sure. But when your brother came in, and was surprised not to find you with us, you know; his conversation – oh dear, oh dear, rather worldly-minded I must confess, bearing in mind what day it was – but he and Rose they kept it up together, for the tip of her tongue is fit for anybody's ear-ring, as the ancient saying goes, – laughing, Miss Fox, and carrying on, till, although I was rather put out about it, and would have stopped any one but a visitor, I was absolutely compelled, I assure you, to pull out my pocket-handkerchief. Oh, I don't think, there need be much fear about Doctor Jemmy's spirits!"
"But don't you think, Mrs. Gilham, it is chiefly his pride that supports him? We do the same sort of thing sometimes. We go into the opposite extreme, and talk and laugh, as if we were in the highest spirits, – when we – when we don't want to let somebody know that we care what he thinks."
"Oh, you have learned that, have you, my dear?" The old lady looked at her, with some surprise. "Well, well! Happy will be the man that you do it for."
Christie felt that she was blushing, and yet could not help giving one sharp glance at her simple hostess. And it would have gone hard with Frank Gilham's chances, if the maiden had spied any special meaning in the eyes of his dear mother. But the elderly lady gazed benignant, reflecting softly upon the time when she had been put to those disguises of the early maidenhood; which are but the face, with its first bloom upon it. For the plain truth was, that she did not wish her son to fall in love, for some ten years yet, at the age that had suited his father. And as for Miss Fox, half a glimpse at her parcels would show her entire unfitness.
"I shall never do it for any man," said Christie, in scorn of her own suggestion; "if I am anything, I am straightforward. And if ever I care for any man, I shall give him my hand, and tell him so. Not, of course, till I know that he is gone upon me. But now I want to do a crafty thing. And money can do almost anything – except in love, Mrs. Gilham. I would not do it without your knowledge; for that would be a very mean return for all your kindness to me. I have made up my mind to see Lady Waldron, and tell her just what I think of her."
"My dear, Lady Waldron is nothing to me. The Gilhams have held their own land, from the time of crossbows and battle-axes. Besides our own, we rent about fifty acres of the outside of the Waldron property. But if they can get more for it, let them do so. Everybody loved poor Sir Thomas; and it was a pleasure to have to deal with him. But there is no such feeling about her ladyship; noble enough to look at, but best to deal with at a distance."
"Well, I mean to see her at close quarters. She has behaved shamefully to my brother. And who is she to frighten me? She is at the bottom of all these wicked, wretched falsehoods, that go about. And she would not even see him, to let him speak up for truth and justice. I call that mean, and low, and nasty. Of course the subject is horrible to her; and perhaps, – well, perhaps I should have done the same. But for all that, I mean to see her; for I love fair play; and this is foul play."
"What a spirit you have, my dear! I should never have thought it was in your gentle face. But you are in the right. And if I can help you – that is, if you are equal to it – "
"I am more than equal to it, my dear friend. What is there to fear, with the truth against black falsehoods?"
Mrs. Gilham turned her wedding-ring upon her "marriage-finger" – a thing she never failed to do, when her heart was busy with the bygone days. Then she looked earnestly at her guest, and saw that the point to be considered was – not shall we attempt it, but how shall it be done?
"Your mind is entirely set upon it. And therefore we will do our best;" she promised. "But it cannot be managed in a moment. Will you allow me to consult my son? It seems like attacking a house almost. But I suppose it is fair, in a case like this."
"Perfectly fair. Indoors it must be, as there is no other chance. A thief must be caught inside a house, when he will not come out of it. And a person is no better than a thief, who locks her doors against justice."
When Frank was consulted, he was much against the scheme; but his opposition was met more briefly than his mother's had been.
"Done it shall be; and if you will not help, it shall be done without you" – was the attitude taken, not quite in words; but so that there was no mistaking it. Then he changed sides suddenly, confuted his own reasoning, and entered into the plan quite warmly; especially when it was conceded that he might be near the house, if he thought proper, in case of anything too violent, or carried beyond what English ladies could be expected to endure. For as all agreed, there was hardly any saying what an arrogant foreigner might not attempt.
"I am quite aware that it will cost a large amount of bribery," said Christie, with a smile which proved her faith in her own powers in that line; "will ten pounds do it, Mr. Frank, should you suppose?"
Though far gone in that brilliant and gloomy, nadir and zenith, tropical and arctic, condition of the human mind, called love, Frank Gilham was of English nature; which, though torn up by the roots, ceases not to stick fast to the main chance. And so much the nobler on his part was this, because the money was not his, nor ever likely so to be.
"I think that three pounds ought to do it, or even fifty shillings," he replied, with an estimate perhaps too low of the worth of the British domestic. "If we could choose a day when old Binstock is off duty, it would save the biggest tip of all. And it would not matter what he thought afterwards, though doubtless he would be in a fury."
"Oh, I won't do it. I don't think I can do it. It does seem so nasty, and underhanded."
Coming now to the practical part, Miss Fox was suddenly struck with the objections.
"My dear, I am very glad that you have come to see it in such a proper light;" cried Mrs. Gilham a little prematurely, while her son nodded very sagely, ready to say "Amen" to either side, according to the final jump of the vacillating reasoner.
"No, but I won't then. I won't see it so. When people behave most improperly to you, are you bound to stand upon propriety with them? Just answer me that, if you can, Mrs. Gilham. My mind is quite settled by that consideration. I'll go in for it wholesale, Binstock and all, if he means a five-pound note for every stripe in his waistcoat."
"Mr. Binstock is much too grand to wear a striped waistcoat;" said Frank with the gravity of one who understands his subject. "But he goes to see his parents every Wednesday. And he will not be wronged in reality, for it will be worth all that to him, for the rise he will get by his absence."
"Binstock's parents! Why he must be over sixty!" exclaimed Frank's mother in amazement. She had greatly undervalued her son's knowledge.
"They are both in the poorhouse at Pumpington, the father eighty-five and the mother eighty-two. They married too early in life," said Frank, "and each of their fifteen children leaves the duty of supporting them to the other fourteen. Our Binstock is the most filial of the whole, for he takes his parents two ounces of tobacco every Wednesday."
"The inhuman old miser!" cried Miss Fox. "He shall never have two pence out of me. That settles it. Mr. Frank, try for Wednesday."
"Well, Frank, you puzzle me altogether," said Mrs. Gilham with some annoyance. "To think of your knowing all those things, and never telling your own mother!"
"I never talk of my neighbour's affairs, until they become my own business." Frank pulled up his collars, and Christie said to herself that his mind was very large. "But don't run away with the idea, mother, that I ever pry into such small matters. I know them by the merest accident. You know that the gamekeeper offers me a day or two when the woodcocks come in; and Batts detests old Binstock. But he is on the very best terms with Charles, and Bob, and Tamar Haddon. Through them I can manage it perhaps for Wednesday, if Miss Fox thinks fit to entrust me with the matter."
It happened that Lady Waldron held an important council with Mr. Webber, on the following Wednesday. She had long begun to feel the helplessness, and sad disadvantages of her position, as a foreigner who had never even tried to understand the Country in which she lived, or to make friends of any of the people round her. And this left her so much the more at the mercy of that dawdling old solicitor.
"Oh that I could only find my dear brother!" was the constant cry of her sorrow, and her wrath. "I wonder that he does not rush to help me. He would have done so long ago, if he had only known of this."
"No reply, no reply yet?" she asked, after listening, with patience that surprised herself, to the lawyer's long details of nothing, and excellent reasons for doing still less. "Are you certain that you have had my demand, my challenge, my supplication to my only brother entered in all the Spanish journals, the titles of which I supplied to you? And entered in places conspicuous?"
"In every one of them, madam, with instructions that all replies should be sent to the office of the paper, and then direct to you. Therefore you would receive them, and not our firm. Shall we try in any other country?"
"Yes, oh yes! That is very good indeed. I was thinking of that only yesterday. My brother has much love for Paris sometimes, whenever he is in good – in affluence, as your expression is. For I have not concealed from you, Mr. Webber, that although of the very first families of Spain, the Count is not always – through caprice of fortune, his resources are disposed to rise and fall. You should therefore try Paris, and Lyons, and Marseilles. It is not in my power to present the names of the principal journals. But they can be discovered, even in this country."
Mr. Webber was often hard put to it, by the lady's calm assumption that barbarism is the leading characteristic of an Englishman. For Theodore Webber was no time-server; only bound by his duty to the firm, and his sense of loyal service to a client of lofty memory. And he knew that he could take the lead of any English lady, because of her knowledge of his character, and the way in which he pronounced it. But with this Spanish lady, all his really solid manner, and true English style were thrown away.
"Even in this country, madam, we know the names of the less enlightened Journals of the Continent. They are hard to read because of the miserable paper they are printed on; but my younger son has the gift of languages, and nothing is too outlandish for him. That also shall be attended to. And now about this question that arises between yourself and Mr. Penniloe?"
"I will not yield. I will sign nothing. Everything shall be as my husband did intend. And who can declare what that was, a stranger, or his own wife, with the most convincing?"
"Yes, madam, that is true enough. But according to English law, we are bound by the words of the will; and unless those are doubtful, no evidence of intention is admissible, and even then – "
"I will not be bound by a – by an adaptation of words that was never intended. What has a heretic minister to do with my family, and with Walderscourt?"
"But, madam, excuse me. Sir Thomas Waldron asked you, and you consented, to the appointment of the Rev. Philip Penniloe, as your co-executor, and co-trustee for your daughter, Miss Inez."
"If I did, it was only to please my husband, because he was in pain so severe. It should have been my brother, or else my son. I have said to you before, that after all that has been done, I refuse to adhere to that interpretation."
The solicitor fixed his eyes on her, not in anger, but in pure astonishment. He had deep grey eyes in a rugged setting, with large wrinkles under, and dark gabled brows above; and he had never met a lady yet – except his own wife – who was not overpowered by their solemn wisdom. Lady Waldron was not overpowered by them. In her ignorance of English usage, she regarded this gentleman of influence and trust, as no more than a higher form of Binstock.
"I shall have to throw it up," said Mr. Webber to himself; "but oh, what gorgeous picking, for that very low-principled Bubb and Cockshalt!" The eminent firm he thought of thus were always prepared to take anything he missed.
"Your ladyship is well aware," he said, being moved by that last reflection, "that we cannot have anything perfect in this world, but must take things as we find them. Mr. Penniloe is a most reasonable man, and acknowledges the value of my experience. He will not act in any way against your wishes, so far as may be in conformity with sound legal practice. That is the great point for us to consider, laying aside all early impressions – which are generally loose when examined – of – of Continental codes, and so on. We need not anticipate any trouble from your co-executor, who as a clergyman is to us a layman, if proper confidence is reposed in us. Already we are taking the regular steps to obtain Probate of a very simple will, prepared very carefully in our Office, and by exceedingly skilful hands. We act for Mr. Penniloe, as well as for your ladyship. All is proceeding very smoothly, and exactly as your dear husband would have wished."
"Then he would have wished to have his last rest dishonoured, and his daughter estranged from her own mother."
"The young lady will probably come round, madam, as soon as you encourage her. Your mind is the stronger of the two, in every way. With regard to that sad and shameful outrage, we are doing everything that can be done. We have very little doubt that if matters are left to our judgment, and discreet activity – "
"Activity, sir! And what have you done? How long is it – a month? I cannot reckon time, because day and night are the same thing to me. Will you never detect that abominable crime? Will you never destroy those black miscreants? Will you never restore – oh, I cannot speak of it – and all the time you know who did it all! There is no word strong enough in your poor tongue, for such an outcast monster. Yet he goes about, he attends to his business, they shake him by the hand, they smile at him; instead of spit, they smile at him! And this is called a Christian land! My God, what made You make it?"
"I implore your ladyship not to be excited. Hitherto you have shown such self-command. Day and night, we are on the watch, and something must speedily come of it. We have three modes of action, each one of them sure to be successful, with patience. But the point is this – to have no mistake about it, to catch him with evidence sufficient to convict him, and then to punish and disgrace him for ever."
"But how much longer before you will begin? I am so tired, so weary, so worn out – can you not see how it is destroying me?"
Mr. Webber looked at her, and could not deny that this was a very different Lady Waldron from the one who had scarcely deigned to bow to him, only a few months ago. The rich warm colour had left her cheeks, the large dark eyes were wan and sunken, weariness and dejection spread, where pride and strength of will had reigned. The lawyer replied in a bolder tone than he would have employed, last summer.
"Lady Waldron, we can do no more. If we attempted any stronger measures, the only result would be to destroy our chance. If you think that any other firm, or any kind of agency, would conduct matters more to your satisfaction, and more effectually than we have done, we would only ask you to place it in their hands. I assure you, madam, that the business is not to our liking, or even to our benefit. For none but an old and most valued client, would we have undertaken it. If you think proper, we will withdraw, and hand over all information very gladly to our successors."
"To whom can I go? Who will come to my rescue in this wicked, impious, accursed land? If my brother were here, is it possible to doubt what he would do – how he would proceed? He would tear that young man, arm from arm, and leg from leg, and lay him in the market-place, and shoot any one who came to bury him. Listen, Mr. Webber, I live only for one thing – to find my noble brother, and to see him do that."
The lady stood up, with her eyebrows knitted, her dark eyes glowing, and her white hands thrown apart and quivering, evidently tearing an imaginary Jemmy.
"Let us hope for the best, madam, hope for the best, and pray for the blessing of the Almighty, upon our weak endeavours."
This was anything but a kind view to take of the dispersion of poor Jemmy; but the lawyer was terrified for the moment by the lady's vehemence. That she who had hitherto always shown such self-command and dignity – he began to fear that there was too much truth in her account of the effect upon her.
Suddenly, as if all her passion had been feigned – though none who had seen, or even heard her, could believe that possible – she returned to her tranquil, self-possessed, and even cold and distant style. The fire in her eyes, and the fury of her gestures sank and were gone, as if by magic; and the voice became soft and musical, as the sound of a bell across a summer sea.
"You will pardon me," she said, as she fell back into the chair, from which in her passion she had risen; "but sometimes my trouble is more great than I can bear. Ladies of this country are so delicate and gentle, they cannot have much hatred, because they have no love. And yet they can have insolence, very strong, and very wonderful. Yesterday, or two days ago, I obtained good proof of that. The sister of that man is here – the man who has overwhelmed me thus – and she has written a letter to me, very quiet, very simple, very polite, requesting me to appoint an interview for her in my own house;" – this had been done on Monday, at the suggestion of Frank Gilham, that fair means should be exhausted first – "but after writing thus, she has the insulting to put in under – something like this, I remember very well – 'if you refuse to see me, I shall be compelled to come, without permission.' Reflect upon that, Mr. Webber."
"Madam, it was not the proper thing to say. But ladies are, even when very young, a little – perhaps a little inclined to do, what they are inclined to."
"I sent her letter back, without a word, by the insolent person who brought it. Just in the same manner as her wicked brother's card. It is quite certain that she will never dare to enter into my presence."
"You have made a mistake there, Lady Waldron. Here I am, to thank you for your good manners; and to speak a few truths, which you cannot answer."
Christie Fox walked up the room, with her eyes fixed steadfastly upon the other's, made a very graceful curtsey, and stood, without even a ribbon trembling. She was beautifully dressed, in dove-coloured silk, and looked like a dove, that has never been fluttered. All this Lady Waldron perceived at a glance; and knew that she had met her equal, in a brave young Englishwoman.
Mr. Webber, who longed to be far away, jumped about with some agility, and manœuvred not to turn his back upon either of the ladies, while he fetched a chair for the visitor. But his trouble was lost, for the younger lady declined with a wave of her hand; while the elder said – "Sir, I will thank you to ring the bell."
"That also is vain," said Miss Fox, calmly. "I will not leave this room, Lady Waldron, until I have told you my opinion of your conduct. The only question is – do you wish to hear it, in the presence of this gentleman; or do you wish me to wait until he is gone?"
To all appearances, the lawyer was by far the most nervous of the three; and he made off for the door, but received a sign to stop.
"It is just as well, perhaps, that you should not be alone," Christie began in a clear firm voice, with her bright eyes flashing, so that the dark Spanish orbs were but as dead coals in comparison, "and that you should not be ashamed; because it proves at least that you are honest in your lunatic conclusions. I am not speaking rudely. The greatest kindness that any one can do you, is to believe that you are mad."
So great was the force of her quiet conviction that Lady Waldron raised one hand, and laid it upon her throbbing temples. For weeks she had been sleepless, and low, and feverish, dwelling on her wrongs in solitude, and estranged from her own daughter.
"Hush, hush, my good young lady!" pleaded the old Solicitor; but his client gazed heavily at her accuser, as if she could scarcely apprehend; and Christie thought that she did not care.
"You have done a most wicked thing;" Miss Fox continued in a lower tone, "as bad, in its way as the great wrong done to you. You have condemned an innocent man, ruined his life to the utmost of your power, and refused to let him even speak for himself. Is that what you call justice?"
"He was not innocent. He was the base miscreant. We have the proof of the man who saw him."
Lady Waldron spoke slowly, in a strange dull tone, while her lips scarcely moved, and her hands fell on her lap.
"There is no such proof. The man owns his mistake. My brother can prove that he was miles away. He was called to his father's sick bed, that very night. And before daylight he was far upon the road. He never returned till days afterwards. Then he finds this black falsehood; and you for its author!"
"Is there any truth in this?"
Lady Waldron turned slightly towards Mr. Webber, as if she were glad to remove her eyes from her visitor's contemptuous and overpowering gaze.
"There may be some, madam. I believe it is true that the blacksmith has changed his opinion, and that Dr. Fox was called suddenly away."
The old Solicitor was beginning to feel uneasy about his own share in the matter. He had watched Miss Fox intently through his glasses; and long experience in lawcourts told him, that she thoroughly believed every word she uttered. He was glad that he had been so slow and careful; and resolved to be more so, if possible, henceforth.
"And now if you are not convinced of the great wrong you have done," said Christie coming nearer, and speaking with a soft thrill in her voice, for tears were not far distant; "what have you to say to this? My brother, long before your husband's death, even before the last illness, had given his heart to your daughter Inez. Her father more than suspected that, and was glad to think it likely. Inez also knew it well. All this also I can prove, even to your satisfaction. Is it possible, even if he were a villain, and my brother is a gentleman of as good a family as your own, Lady Waldron – ask yourself, would he offer this dastard outrage to the father of the girl he loved? If you can believe it, you are not a woman. And that would be better for all other women. Oh, it is too cruel, too atrocious, too inhuman! And you are the one who has done it all. Lay this to heart – and that you may think of it, I will leave you to yourself."
Brave as she was, she could not quite accomplish this. Is it a provision of Nature, that her highest production should be above the rules of inferior reason? When this fair young woman ceased to speak, and having discharged her mission should have walked away in silence – strange to say, she could do nothing of the kind. As if words had been her spring and motive power, no sooner were they exhausted than she herself broke down entirely. She fell away upon the rejected chair, covered her face with both hands, reckless of new kid gloves just come from Paris, and burst into a storm of tears and sobs.
"You have done it now," cried Mr. Webber; "I thought you would; but you wouldn't be stopped." He began to rush about helplessly, not on account of the poor girl's plight – for he had wife and daughter of his own, and knew that tears are never fatal, but often highly beneficial; "you have done it now; I thought you would." His prophetic powers seemed to console him.
Christie looked up through her dabbled gloves, and saw a sight that frightened her. Lady Waldron had been sitting at a large oak table covered with books and papers, – for the room was chiefly used for business, and not a lady's bower – and there she sat still; but with this change, that she had been living, and now was dead. Dead to all perception of the life and stir around her, dead to all sense of right or wrong, of daylight or of darkness; but living still to the slow sad work that goes on in the body, when the mind is gone. Her head lay back on the stout oak rail; her comely face showed no more life than granite has, or marble; and her widow's hood dropped off, and shed the coils of her long black hair around.
"I can't make it out;" cried Mr. Webber, hurrying to the bell-rope, which he pulled to such purpose that the staple of the crank fell from the ceiling, and knocked him on the head. But Christie, recovering at a glance, ran round the end of the table, and with all her strength supported the tottering figure.
What she did afterwards, she never knew, except from the accounts of others; for she was too young to have presence of mind, when every one else was distracted. But from all that they said – and they were all against her – she must have shown readiness, and strength, and judgment, and taken Mr. Webber under her command.
One thing she remembered, because it was so bitter, and so frightfully unjust; and if there was anything she valued – next to love and truth and honour, most of which are parts of it – Christie valued simple justice, and impartiality. To wit – as Mr. Webber might have put it – when she ran out to find Mr. Gilham, who had been left there, only because he did not choose to go away, and she only went to find him that he might run for Dr. Gronow – there was her brother standing with him, and words less friendly than usual were, as it seemed to her, passing between them.
"No time for this sort of thing now," she said, as well as her flurried condition would permit; and then she pulled her brother in, and sent Frank, who was wonderfully calm and reasonable, to fetch that other doctor too. Her brother was not in a nice frame of mind, according to her recollection; and there was no time to reason with him, if he chose to be so stupid. Therefore she sent him where he was wanted; and of course no doctor could refuse to go, under such frightful circumstances. But as for herself, she felt as if it mattered very little what she did; and so she went and sat somewhere in the dark, without even a dog for company, and finished with many pathetic addenda the good cry that had been broken off.