A hasty note had been despatched to the Fort by Glyddyr, announcing that a friend had come down from town, and that to entertain him he was going to take him for a short cruise in his yacht. Then there were the customary hopes that Gartram was better, and with kindest regards to Miss Gartram, Glyddyr remained his very sincerely.

“I don’t like going off like this,” grumbled Glyddyr; “it looks as if I were being scared away.”

“Well, that is curious,” said Gellow, with mock seriousness.

“And it’s like retreating from the field and leaving it to Lisle.”

“Who the deuce is Lisle?”

“Eh? A man I know. Had a bit of a quarrel with him,” said Glyddyr hastily.

“Quarrel? What about?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.”

Gellow talked in a light, bantering strain, but behind the mask of lightness he assumed, a keen observer would have noticed that he was all on the strain to notice everything, and he noted that there was something under Glyddyrs careless way of turning the subject aside.

“Rival, of course,” thought Gellow.

They were walking down toward the pier, and as they neared the sea Glyddyrs pace grew slower, and his indecision more marked.

“I can’t afford to trifle with this affair,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll go.”

“Well, don’t go. Stop and order a nice piquant delicate little dinner in case Madame Denise comes, something of the Trois Frères Provençaux style, and I’ll stop and dine with you, play gooseberry, and keep you from quarrelling.”

“Come along,” said Glyddyr sharply; “we’ll go, but I believe she will not come. No, I won’t go. Suppose she does come down, and I’m not here, and she begins to make inquiries?”

“Bosh! If she comes and finds you are not here, the first inquiry she makes will be for when you went away, the second, for where you went.”

“Possibly.”

“Then let drop to some one that you are going to Redport, or Rainsbury, and she’ll make at once for there.”

“Confound you!” cried Glyddyr sharply. “Nature must have meant you for a fox.”

“You said a rat just now, dear boy. I never studied Darwin. Have it your own way. That our boat?”

“That’s my boat,” said Glyddyr sharply, as they reached the end of the pier.

“In with you, then,” cried Gellow; and then, in a voice loud enough to be heard on the nearest brig in the harbour, “Think the wind will hold good for Redport?”

Glyddyr growled, and followed his companion into the boat, which was pushed off directly.

“I don’t believe she’ll come down,” he whispered to Gellow, as the two sailors bent to their oars, and the boat began to surge through the clear water.

“Not likely,” said Gellow. “Look!”

Glyddyr gave a hasty glance back, and saw that which made him sit fast staring straight before him, and say, in a quick low voice, —

“Give way, my lads; I want to get on board.”

Then followed the excited appearance of the lady at the end of the pier, the cries to them to stop, and the plunge into the water.

“Well, she is a tartar,” whispered Gellow.

“Don’t look back, man.”

“Oh, all right. Water isn’t deep, I suppose?”

“Look, sir,” cried one of the sailors. “Shall we row back?”

“No; go on.”

“Water’s ten foot deep, sir, and the tide’s running like mad,” cried the man excitedly.

“Some one will help the lady out,” said Glyddyr hastily. “Plenty of hands there.”

“Hooray!” cried one of the men, as Chris leaped off the pier.

“Tell them to back water,” whispered Gellow excitedly. “It’s murder, man.”

Glyddyr made no reply, but seemed as if stricken with paralysis, as he looked back with a strangely confused set of thoughts struggling together in his brain, foremost among which, and mastering all the others, was one that seemed to suggest that fate was saving him from endless difficulties, for if the woman whom he could see being swept away by the swift current sank, to rise no more, before his boat reached her, his future would be assured.

He made a feeble effort, though, to save the drowning pair, giving orders in a half-hearted way, trembling violently the while, and unable to crush the hope that the attempt might be unsuccessful.

The men backed water rapidly, and Gellow raised the boat-hook, holding it well out over the stern in time to make the sharp snatch, which took effect in Chris’s back, and holding on till more help came and they reached the pier.

“It’s all over,” whispered Glyddyr bitterly, as willing hands dragged Chris and his insensible companion up the steps.

“Not it,” was whispered back. “Will you leave yourself in my hands?”

“I am in them already.”

“Don’t fool,” said Gellow quickly. “You have got to marry that girl for your own sake.”

“And for yours.”

“Call it so if you like; but will you trust me to get you out of this scrape?”

“Yes, curse you: do what you like.”

“Bless you, then, my dear boy; off you go.”

“What do you mean?”

“Be off to the yacht, set sail, and don’t come back to Danmouth till I tell you it’s safe.”

“Do you mean this?”

“Of course. But keep me posted as to your whereabouts.”

“Here?”

“No; in town.”

“But what are you going to do?”

“Fight for your interests, and mine. That woman’s my wife, come down after me, and I’m going to take her home. See?”

“Not quite.”

“Then stop blind. Be off, quick.”

This hurried colloquy took place in the boat by the rough granite stairs, the attention of those about being taken up by the two half-drowned people on the pier, the excited talk making the words inaudible save to those concerned.

“Now, then,” whispered Gellow, “you’ll leave it to me?”

“Yes,” said Glyddyr, hesitating.

“Carte blanche?”

“You’ll do nothing – ”

He did not finish the sentence.

“Carte blanche?” said Gellow again.

“Well, yes.”

“Right; and every lie I tell goes down to your account, dear boy. Bye-bye. Off you go,” he said aloud, as he sprang on the stones. “I’m very sorry, Glyddyr; I apologise. If I had known she would follow me, I wouldn’t have come.”

“Give way,” said Glyddyr, thrusting the boat from the steps; and he sank down in the stern, heedless of the dripping seat, and thinking deeply as the pier seemed to slip away from him, and with it the woman who had for years been, as he styled it, his curse.

He only glanced back once, and saw that Chris Lisle was being helped up into a sitting position, but the little crowd closed round him, and he saw no more, but sat staring hard at his yacht, and seeing only the face of the woman just drawn from the sea.

Then he seemed to see Chris recovering, and taking advantage of his absence to ruin all his hopes with Claude.

“If these two, Claude and Denise, should meet and talk,” he thought.

“If Gartram should learn everything. If Denise should not recover. Hah!”

Glyddyr uttered a low expiration of the breath, as he recalled how closely Gellow’s interests were mixed up with his own.

“And I have given him carte blanche,” he thought; “and he will say or do anything to throw them off the scent – or do anything,” he repeated, after a pause. “No, he dare do no harm; he is too fond of his own neck.”

He had come to this point when he reached the side of his long, graceful-looking yacht, and as soon as he was aboard he gave his orders; the mooring ropes were cast off, and the sails hoisted. Then, fetching a glass from the cabin, Glyddyr carefully scanned the pier and shore, but could see nothing but little knots of people standing about discussing the adventure, while the largest knots hung about the door of the hotel.

Almost at the same moment, Gellow was using the telescope in the hotel hall.

“Right,” he said to himself, as he closed it, upon seeing that the sails of the yacht were being hoisted. “Good boy; but you’ll have to pay for it. Well, doctor, how is she?”

Doctor Asher had just come down from one of the bed-chambers.

“Recovering fast,” said that gentleman, following Gellow into a private room, “but very much excited. She will require rest and great care for some days.”

Gellow tapped him on the breast, and gave him a meaning look.

“No, she won’t, doctor,” he said, in a low voice. “I must get her home at once. Most painful for us both to stop. People chattering and staring, and that sort of thing. Most grateful to you for your attention,” he continued, taking out his pocket-book, opening it quickly, and drawing therefrom two crisp new five-pound notes. “Let me see, you doctors prefer guineas,” he said, thrusting his hand into his pocket.

“No, no, really,” protested Asher, as his eyes sparkled at the sight of the notes.

“Ah, well, I shall not press you, doctor; but I’m down and you are down after this painful affair, so what do you say to prescribing for us both pints of good cham and a seltzer, eh? Not bad, eh?”

“Excellent, I’m sure,” said Asher, smiling; “but really I cannot think of – er – one note is ample.”

“Bosh, sir!” cried Gellow, crumpling up both, and pressing them into the doctor’s hand. “Professional knowledge must be paid for. Here, waiter; wine-list. That’s right. Bottle of – of – of – of – Oh, here we are. Dry Monopole and two seltzers – no, one will do. Must practise economy; eh, doctor?”

The waiter hurried out, and Gellow continued confidentially, —

“Bless her! Charming woman, but bit of a tyrant, sir. Love her like mad don’t half express it; but there are times when a man does like a run alone. Just off with a friend for a bit of a cruise when the check-string was pulled tight. You understand?”

“Oh, yes; I begin to understand.”

“Ah, here’s the stimulus, and I’m sure we require it.”

Pop!

“Thanks, waiter. Needn’t wait. Now, doctor: bless her – the dear thing’s health. Hah, not bad – for the country. I may take her back to-day, eh?”

“Well, er – if great care were taken, and you broke the journey if the lady seemed worse – I – er – think perhaps you might risk it,” said Asher, setting down his empty glass. “Of course you would take every precaution.”

“Who would take more, doctor? Put out, of course; but the weaker sex, eh? Yes, the weaker sex.”

He refilled the doctor’s glass and his own.

“An accident. Pray, don’t think it was anything else; and, I say: you will contradict any one who says otherwise?”

“Of course, of course.”

“There are disagreeable people who might say that the poor dear sprang off the pier in a fit of temper at being left behind, but we know better, eh, doctor?”

“Oh, of course,” said Asher, playing with and enjoying his glass of champagne.

“It’s a wonderful thing, temper. Take a cigar?”

“Thanks, no. I never smoke in the daytime.”

“Sorry for you, doctor. Professional reasons, I suppose?”

Asher bowed.

“I was going to say,” continued Gellow, carefully selecting one out of the four cigars he carried, for no earthly reason, since he would smoke all the others in their turn. “I was going to say that it is a wonderful thing how Nature always gives the most beautiful women the worst tempers.”

“Compensation?” hazarded Asher.

“Eh? Yes; I suppose so. Going, doctor?”

“Yes; other patients to see.”

“Then my eternal gratitude, sir, for what you have done, and with all due respect to you and your skill, I hope I may never have to place a certain lady in your care again. Shake hands, my dear sir. Doctor Asher, I think you are called? That name will be engraven on the lady’s heart.”

“You will take the greatest care?” said Asher.

“Of course.”

“And break the journey, if needful?”

“And break the journey if I think it needful. You need be under no apprehension, my dear doctor. Good-morning, and goodbye.

“Yes; bless her! I’ll take the greatest care, Asher, by gad!” said Gellow to himself, as he saw the doctor pass the window, when he filled his own glass, took a hasty sip, and then drew out his pocket-book.

“Shall I make a lump charge on this journey,” he said, “or put down the separate items? Better be exact,” he muttered, and he carefully wrote down, —

“Doctor’s fees, twenty guineas; lunch for doctor, one guinea.”

“Always as well to be correct,” he muttered, as he replaced his pencil in the book, and drew round the elastic band with a snap. “How am I to know about how she is going on? By jingo!”

He started, so sudden was the apparition of the woman, who flung open the door, and closed it loudly, being evidently in a fierce fit of excitement and rage.

“Where is my hosband?” she cried, speaking in a low voice, and through her teeth.

Gellow beckoned her to the window, and pointed out to where The Fair Star was careening over, with a pleasant breeze sending her rapidly through the water.

“He is dere,” she said, watching the yacht through her half-closed eyes.

“Yes, he’s off. Gave me the slip while I was helping you. By jingo, ma’am, you had a narrow escape.”

“And you came down here to reveal him I was coming,” she said, turning upon him suddenly, with her eyes widely open and flashing.

“Come, I like that,” he replied, with cool effrontery. “How the dickens should I know that you were coming down here?”

She did not reply, but stood gazing at him searchingly.

“But I wish to goodness you hadn’t come.”

“And why, monsieur, do you wish that I shall not come?”

“Because you spoil sport. Do you know that Glyddyr owes me thousands?”

“Of francs? He is vairay extravagant.”

“Francs, be hanged! Pounds. I came down here to try and get some, and just as I’d got him safe, and he was taking me aboard his yacht to give me some money, you came and had that accident.”

“Yais, I come and had that ac-ceedon,” said the woman through her teeth. “Where to is he gone, monsieur?”

“Glyddyr? Ah! that’s what I should like to know. Going to sail back to London, I expect. Gravesend, perhaps. How are you now?”

“He will come back here?” said the woman, paying no heed to the question.

Gellow burst into a roar of laughter.

“What for you laugh?” said the woman angrily. “Am so I redeeculose in dese robe which do not fit me?”

“Eh? Oh, no. ’Pon honour I never noticed your dress. With a face like yours one does not see anything else.”

“Aha, I see,” said the woman, raising her eyebrows. “You flatter me, monsieur. I am extreme oblige. You tell me my face is handsome?”

“Yes; and no mistake.”

“You tell me somting else I do not know at all.”

“Eh? Oh, very well. I will when I think of it.”

“You tell me now. What for you laugh?”

“Eh, why did I laugh?” The woman screwed up her eyelids, and nodded her head a great deal.

“I remember now. It was at your thinking that Glyddyr would come back here.”

“He has sail away in his leettler sheep – in his yacht. Why will he not come back to-night, to-morrow, the next day?”

“Shall I tell you?”

“Yes; you shall tell me.”

“Because he will say to himself: ‘no, I will not go back to Danmouth, because Madame Denise is so fond of me she will be waiting.’ Do you understand?”

“Oh, yais. I understand quite well. You sneer me, but you are his friend. You are his friend.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Gellow; “you wouldn’t have said that if you had heard him when I talked about money.”

“Well?”

The abrupt question was so sudden, that Gellow looked at the speaker wonderingly.

“Well what?” he said.

“Why do you look at me? Why do you ask me question? You go your way, I go mine. I want my hosband. I will have my hosband. Why is he here?”

“He isn’t here,” said Gellow, in reply to the fierce question.

“No, I know dat; and you know what I mean. Why comes he here?”

“Well,” said Gellow, “I should think it was so as to get out of my way, and – now, don’t be offended if I tell you the truth.”

“Bah! I know you. You cannot offend me.”

“Well, I’m sorry I am so insignificant in madame’s beautiful eyes.”

“What?”

“I say I am sorry I am so insignificant, but I’ll tell you all the same. I should say that Mr Parry Glyddyr came down to this delectable, out-of-the-way spot so as to be where Mademoiselle Denise – ”

“Madame Denise Glyddyr, sare.”

“Ah, that’s what Glyddyr says you are not.”

“What?”

“I beg your pardon; I only tell you what he says.”

“We shall see,” cried the woman, stamping her foot, “what you did not finish yourself?”

“And I don’t mean to,” said Gellow, sotto voce.

“Well?”

“I have no more to say, only that I believe he came here so as to avoid you, and he is off somewhere now to be away from you.”

“Yes, it is true,” said the woman bitterly.

“If you had not come down, I daresay he would have run back here.”

“What for?”

“How should I know? Play billiards, read the odds.”

“He has a wife here, then.”

“Do you mean Madame Denise?” said Gellow innocently.

She gave him a scornful look.

“Are you fool, or make fun of me?” she cried fiercely. “Bah, I am too much angry. Is there a lady here?”

“No, I should think not, but we could easily find out. If he has, it is too bad, owing me so much as he does. No, I don’t think so; stop – yes I do. By Jingo, it’s too bad. That’s why he did not want to take me out in his yacht.”

“What do you mean?” said the woman searchingly.

“If there is one, madame – if he is married, she is aboard his yacht, and yonder they go – no, they don’t; they’re out of sight.”

There was so much reality in Gellow’s delivery of this speech, that his vis-à-vis was completely hoodwinked. She tried to pass it off with a laugh, but the compression of her lips, the contraction about her eyes, all showed the jealous rage she was in; and it was only by giving one foot a fierce stamp on the carpet, and by walking quickly to the window, that she could keep herself from shrieking aloud.

“Well, madame,” said Gellow, “you are getting all right again.”

“Oh, yais; I am getting all right.”

“And you can do without my services?”

“Oh, yais.”

“Then I’ll say good-bye. Glad I was near to help you out. Glad to see you again if you like to give me a call in town.”

“Where are you going?”

“Going? Back to London as fast as I can.”

“And what for, sir?”

“To read up all the yachting news, and see where The Fair Star puts in, and then run down and give Master Glyddyr a bit of my mind.”

“Stop – an hour – two hours.”

“What for?”

“Till I get back my dress all a dry. I go back wiz you.”

“Oh, certainly, if you wish it; but I wouldn’t; you had better stop here and rest for a few days – a week. I’ll write and tell you all I find out.”

“I go back wiz you,” said the woman decidedly. And she kept her word, for in two hours they caught a train.

The next day came a telegram from Underley, giving that as Glyddyr’s temporary address.

Gellow wrote back advising that the yacht should in future sail under another name, with her owner incog, and he added that the coast at Danmouth was now clear.

Volume One – Chapter Thirteen.
Hearts are not Deformed

“Now Claude, darling, what do you think of me?” said Mary, one morning; “am I beautiful as a flower in spring?”

“No,” said Claude gravely; “only what you are, my dear little cousin; why?”

Mary’s face was flushed, and her eyes were sparkling as much from mischief as pleasure as she caught her cousin’s hand, led her softly to the open window of her bedroom, and pointed down.

Claude looked at her wonderingly, but she was too well used to her companion’s whims to oppose her, and she looked down.

“Can you see the goose?” whispered Mary.

“I can see Mr Trevithick walking with papa; I thought they were in the study;” and, she hardly knew why, she gazed down with some little interest at the tall, stoutish man of thirty, with closely-cut dark hair and smoothly shaved face, which gave him rather the aspect of a giant boy as he walked beside Gartram, talking to him slowly and earnestly, evidently upon some business matter.

“Well, that’s who I mean,” said Mary, laughing almost hysterically, “for he must be mad.”

“Now, Mary dear, what fit is this?” cried Claude, pressing her hands and drawing her away, as, a very child for the moment, she was about to get upon a chair and peep down from behind the curtain. “I know how angry papa would be if he caught sight of you looking down.”

“Well, the man should not be such a goose – gander, I mean. I thought he was such a clever, staid, serious lawyer that uncle trusted him deeply.”

“Of course,” said Claude warmly; “and he’s quite worthy of it. I like Mr Trevithick very, very much.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Mary, in a mock tragic tone, as she flung her cousin’s hands away, “you’ll make me hate you.”

“Mary, you ought to have been an actress.”

“You mean I ought to have been a man and an actor, Claudie. Oh, how I could have played Richard the Third.”

“Hush!”

“Oh, they can’t hear. They’re talking of bills and bonds and lading. I heard them. But Claude, oh! and you professing to love Chris Lisle.”

“I never professed anything of the kind,” cried Claude indignantly.

“Your eyes did; and all the time uncle is engaging you to Mr Glyddyr.”

“Mary! For shame!”

“And in spite of this double-dealing, you must want Mr Trevithick, too?”

“Do you wish to make me angry?”

“Do you wish to make me jealous?”

“Jealous? Absurd!”

“Of course,” cried Mary sharply. “What should a poor little miserable like I am know of love or jealousy or heartaches, and the rest of it?”

“My dear coz,” whispered Claude, placing an arm round her, “I shall never understand you.”

“There isn’t much of me, Claude. It oughtn’t to take you long.”

“But it does,” said Claude playfully. “I never know when you are serious and when you are teasing. I have not the most remote idea of what you mean now.”

“Then I’ll tell you. He’s in love.”

“Who is?”

“Mr Trevithick.”

“Mary!”

“There you go. No: not with you. Of course, it would be quite natural if the great big fellow, coming here every now and then, had fallen in love with his client’s beautiful daughter. But the foolish goose has fallen in love with some one else.”

“Mary, dear, how do you know? With whom?”

“Ah! Of course, you would never guess – with poor Mary Dillon.”

“Oh, Mary, darling! But has he really told you so?”

“I should like to see him dare.”

“Yes,” said Claude quietly; “I suppose that is what most girls would like.”

“Don’t, Claude dearest; pray don’t. My sedate and lovely cousin trying to make jokes. Oh! this is too delicious. But it won’t do, Claudie; it is not in your way at all. I am a natural, born female jester – a sort of Josephine Miller; but – you! oh, it is too ridiculous.”

“Now, tell me seriously, what does this mean?” said Claude, taking the girl’s hands.

“What I told you, darling. Big, clever, serious Mr Trevithick, the learned lawyer, is in love – with me.”

“Mary, you must be serious now. But how do you know?”

“How do I know?” cried Mary, with a curl of the lip. “How does a woman know when a man loves her?”

“By his telling her so, I suppose; and you say Mr Trevithick has not told you.”

“Didn’t you know Chris Lisle loved you before he dared to tell – I mean, to give you instructions in the art of catching salmon?”

Claude was silent.

“No, of course you did not, dear,” said Mary mockingly. “As if it was not only too easy to tell.”

“But, Mary dear, this is too serious to trifle about. You have not given him any encouragement?”

“Only been as sharp and disagreeable to him as I could.”

“But how has he shown it?”

“Lots of ways. Held my poor little tiny hand in his great big ugly paw, where it looked like a splash of cream in a trencher, and forgot to let it go when he was talking to me; looked down at me as if he were hungry, and I was something good to eat – like an ogre who wanted to pick my bones; sighed like the wind in Logan cave, and when I dragged my hand away, all crushed and crumpled up, and without a bit of feeling left in it, he begged my pardon, and looked ashamed of himself.”

“And what did you say?”

“I? I said, ‘Oh!’”

“That all?”

“No; I said, ‘you’ve quite spoiled that hand, Mr Trevithick,’ and then the monster looked frightened of me.”

“I am very sorry – no, very glad, Mary,” said Claude thoughtfully, and looking her surprise.

“Which, dear?”

There was a tap at the door, and Sarah Woodham entered.

“Master wished me to tell you that Mr Trevithick will not stay for dinner, Miss Claude, and said would you come down.”

“Directly, Sarah,” said Claude, rising. “You will not come, Mary?” she whispered.

“Indeed, but I shall.”

“Mary, dear,” protested her cousin.

“Why, if I stop away the monster will think all sort of things; that I care for him, that he has impressed me favourably, that I have gone to my room to dream. No, my dear coz, there are some things which must be nipped in the bud, and this is one of them. It is his whim – his maggot. Oh, Claude, he is six feet two. What a huge maggot to nip.”

They were already part of the way down, to find Gartram and his great legal man of business standing in the hall.

“Better alter your mind, Trevithick, and have a chop with us. Try and persuade him, Claude.”

“We shall be extremely glad, Mr Trevithick,” said Claude; but her words did not sound warm, and her father looked at her as if surprised.

“I am greatly obliged, but I must get back to town,” said their visitor; and he spoke in a heavy, bashful way, and looked at Mary as if expecting her to speak, but she did not even glance at him.

“Well,” said Gartram, “if you must, you must.”

The big lawyer looked at Claude again in a disappointed way, and his eyes seemed to say, “Coax me a little more.”

But Claude felt pained as she glanced from one to the other, for there was something too incongruous in the idea of those two becoming engaged, for her to wish to aid the matter in the slightest way, and she held out her hand for the parting.

“I suppose it will be three months before we see you again, Mr Trevithick,” she said.

“Yes, Miss Gartram, three months; unless,” he added hastily, “Mr Gartram should summon me before.”

“No fear, Trevithick; four days a year devoted to legal matters are quite enough for me.”

“We none of us know, Mr Gartram,” said the big man solemnly. “Good-day, Miss Gartram; good-day, Miss Dillon,” and he shook hands with both slowly, as if unwillingly, before he strode away.

“I don’t think Trevithick is well,” said Gartram.