CHAPTER X
A LOVERS' MEETING
Having made up her mind to seek an explanation from Mrs. Tunks regarding the vision of the negro in the crystal – that is, if the old woman really had beheld the same – Bella lost no time in executing her purpose. In two or three minutes she hastily reassumed her hat, cloak, and gloves, which she had removed while conversing with Mrs. Coppersley. Then taking her sunshade, she left the Manor-house by the front door. In the dining-room she could hear the refined tones of Vand and the coarse voice of Mrs. Coppersley, as they laughed and chattered in the most amiable manner. Evidently the pair had quite forgotten the recent tragedy, which had invested Bleacres with so sinister a reputation. With a nervous shiver – for the merriment seemed to be singularly ill-timed – Bella closed the door softly, and walked down the corn-path. Glancing right and left, and straight ahead, she could see nothing of the black man, who had appeared and disappeared so mysteriously. Like the witches in "Macbeth," he had made himself into thin air, and had vanished.
Bella felt remarkably uneasy, and on the face of it had great cause to be so. Apparently, and she had not the least doubt of this, Durgo was Cyril's servant, who came in search of him. She rather wondered that her lover should have so uncivilised an attendant, and resolved that if they married she would endeavour to get him to dispense with the services of the man. But what struck her most, were the questions of Durgo. He evidently expected Cyril to meet Huxham and to have a quarrel. Also the stated time – of two weeks and some days – corresponded with the midnight visit of Cyril to the Manor-house. She recollected then that the visit was paid, not at midnight, but about eight o'clock, and saw in the mistake she had made the perplexity of her bewildered brain. With a groan she tried to clear her understanding by swift movement, for she felt unable to follow any regular train of thought.
Nevertheless, Durgo's innocent speech re-awakened her old suspicions, though she dreaded to recall them. What if, after all, Cyril had been the visitor of a fortnight since? In that case, since Huxham had been found dead, Cyril must have struck the blow. The horror of the mere idea, which placed a barrier between them, made her turn cold, and she resolutely put it from her. Cyril was the man she loved; the man in whom she had every reason to believe. He had solemnly sworn that he was innocent of her father's blood, and if she entertained a grain of affection for him she was bound to believe his word, even in the face of strong evidence to the contrary. He must be guiltless; he was guiltless, as she assured herself; his looks and words and bearing convinced her of his guiltlessness. In one way or another, the promised explanation would solve the difficult problem. But when would that explanation be made?
Then, again, Mrs. Tunks must know somewhat of the truth, since she had so truly foretold the coming of the negro. Bella, entirely lacking the mystical sense, had no belief in visions, and assumed that the old woman, for her own ends, had played a comedy, based upon actual fact. Taking this view, the girl walked towards the hut of the witch-wife, resolute to learn how much Mrs. Tunks knew concerning Cyril's past life. Something she must know, else she could not have hinted at the appearance of the negro. Bella herself was ignorant that her lover had so sinister a servant, but it seemed that Mrs. Tunks was better informed. And since the old hag knew so much, she must know more. A few questions would doubtless bring forth the information, and then Bella felt that she would know how to act. But the position was extremely difficult, and the skein of life very tangled.
Thinking in this desultory way, she reached the end of the corn-field, and was about to turn along the pathway leading to the hut, when she heard her name called anxiously. Looking up, she saw Dora Ankers on the hither side of the boundary channel.
"Oh, Bella! I am so glad to see you," sang out the Marshely school-mistress volubly. "I really didn't want to go to the Manor and meet that horrid aunt of yours. Come with me, dear; he is waiting at my cottage."
"Who is waiting?" demanded Bella, greatly surprised by this address.
"Oh, my dear, as if to a girl in love there is any he but the one he in the world," said Dora, who was sentimental and impatient.
"Do you mean to say that Mr. Lister – "
"Mr. Lister? Oh, you cruel-hearted girl: do you call him that?"
"I mean Cyril," said Bella hurriedly; "is he – "
"Yes, he is. He won't come to the Manor, and can't very well see you in his own rooms, as that nasty-minded Mrs. Block might say things. She is such a gossip you know. In despair he came to me, poor dear, so I asked him to wait in my sitting-room while I came for you."
Bella drew herself up stiffly. She did not desire to appear too willing to obey the summons of her lover. Womanlike, she wished him to say that he was in the wrong, so that her pride might be saved. "I am going to Mrs. Tunks'."
"What for?" asked Dora, bluntly.
"Never mind," replied Miss Huxham, unwilling to confess that she was dealing with uncanny things beyond the veil. "I must go."
Dora tripped lightly across the narrow planks, and slipped her arm within that of her friend. "You shall do nothing of the sort, you cold thing," she declared. "Poor Mr. Lister is quite broken-hearted by the way in which you have treated him."
"Oh!" Bella became stiffer than ever. "Has he said – "
"He has said nothing! he is too much a man to say anything. But I saw his poor, pale, peaked face, and – "
"Does he look ill?" Bella was seized with a sudden qualm.
"Ill?" Miss Ankers' gestures and looks became eloquent. "Dear, he is dying."
"Oh, Dora!" Miss Huxham kilted up her skirts and fairly ran across the planks. "Why didn't you come for me before?"
"You don't seem to be in a hurry to come now," laughed Dora, crossing in her turn; "yet the poor, dear fellow is dying – to see you."
"Where has he been all this time?"
"I'm sure I don't know, dear. He came straight from London last night, and went to my cottage this morning to see me. I was in church, so he came again in the afternoon, and asked me to help him. Oh, my dear, he is handsome, and I felt that I could do anything for him. I wish he had made love to me," sighed the romantic school-mistress; "but all he did, was to ask me to bring you to my cottage for an interview. So come, dear, come, and save the poor darling from an early grave."
Bella needed no urging, for she was genuinely concerned over the news, and sped towards Marshely like a fawn, with Miss Ankers at her heels. Dora had no difficulty in keeping up, as she was a slim, small, dainty woman, more like a fairy than mere flesh and blood. In spite of her age, and she confessed to thirty-five, she had a pink-and-white skin, golden hair, and clear blue eyes. Dressed as she was, in pale blue, with many ribbons and ornaments, she looked like a well-arrayed doll, just out of a satin-lined box. But for all her innocent looks, Miss Ankers was a stern school-mistress, and during business hours behaved with great severity. Out of them, however, she presented herself to the village world in her true colours, as a sentimental, airy, sweet-tempered little creature, who was everybody's friend and nobody's enemy. Bella was always fond of her, but at this moment felt more attached to her than ever – as she had every reason to be, seeing that Miss Ankers had given up her snug sitting-room for a lovers' meeting, and had actually brought that meeting about.
"You're my good angel, Dora," said Bella, kissing her friend, as they drew near the cottage, on the outskirts of Marshely.
"Oh, what waste!" remonstrated Dora, opening her china-blue eyes to their widest. "What will Mr. Lister say to your throwing away kisses on me?"
Bella laughed, for her heart had grown unexpectedly light. She had a firm belief that all misunderstandings were about to be cleared up between her lover and herself. Also she acknowledged to herself, with great and thankful joy, that Cyril, in spite of her misgivings, had returned to her. Seeing how she had doubted and accused him, he might have departed for ever, and with every reason for such a course. But apparently he loved her so devotedly that he was willing to remain and explain himself. It was no wonder that Bella's heart leaped for joy, since the cloud, which had for so long overshadowed the sunshine of love, was about to be dissipated. She almost danced into Ankers' small garden.
"Mr. Lister is in the sitting-room dear," said that arch-plotter, pushing her companion into the cottage. "You'll find him there. I have to go to the church to run over the evening hymns."
Miss Huxham knew that this was a mere excuse, but loved Dora all the more for making it. Miss Ankers was much too romantic to mar the meeting by presenting herself as an inconvenient third. Therefore she turned away laughing, and Bella, anxious to lose no moment of joy, entered the small sitting-room with a bright, expectant smile. It died away at the sight of Lister's sombre face.
The young man was seated in an arm-chair, with a newspaper lying on his knees. But he was not reading, as his eyes were fixed darkly on the door through which Bella had just entered. For the instant, he did not appear to be aware of her presence; then he rose gravely and bowed. Even in the midst of her dismay at this reception, Bella was woman enough to note how spruce, and trim, and singularly handsome he looked. Certainly his face was grave and pale, but beyond this she could not see the dying looks which Dora had so eloquently described. When they came face to face an embarrassing silence ensued. Bella was the first to speak.
"Are you not pleased to see me, Cyril?" she faltered.
"I am very pleased," he returned gravely, and pushed forward a chair. "Will you not be seated?"
"Not until you explain why you receive me in this way," she declared indignantly. "You send for me, and I come at once only to find displeased looks."
"Our last interview explains my looks, Bella."
"No, it doesn't," she cried, up in arms at once; "I admitted my fault in suspecting you then, and asked your pardon. You left me without a kiss, and – and – " She stopped with an angry gesture. "It seems to me that I am the one who has the right to be displeased."
"No," said Lister, decidedly. "I love you very dearly, as you know; but – "
"How can I tell that you love me dearly?"
"My desire to meet you again shows that I do. Many a man would have left you for ever on learning, as I did, your cruel suspicions. You have no right to be displeased, as you said a moment since. I am the wronged person, for if you really loved me you would believe nothing against me."
"I do not; I do not."
"But you did."
"Only for a single moment. Oh!" – Bella uttered a cry of despair – "I am only a human being, and I saw you – as I thought – entering the house. I knew that on my account you had quarrelled with my father, so what could I think but that you had killed him? I don't pretend to be an angel." She broke off and sat down, pressing her hands hard together, then looked up with feigned self-control. "We discussed all this before," she said coldly, "did you invite me here to ask me to defend myself again?"
"No. I asked you here to learn from your own lips that you believe me to be guiltless."
"I do. I swear I do." Bella rose in her excitement. "And I ask your pardon for my wicked suspicions."
"Bella!" He sprang forward and caught her hands within his own. "Then you really and truly love me?"
"If you had gone away," she breathed faintly in his ear, "I should have died."
Cyril drew her closely to his breast. "My darling," he whispered, smoothing her hair, "I love you too dearly to leave you. I ask your pardon for my harsh words. On the face of it, I don't see what you could do but suspect me. It was unreasonable for me to ask you to do otherwise. That you believe my mere word, in spite of the strong evidence against me, shows that you love me as dearly and strongly as I love you. So far, all that is right. We trust one another."
"Wholly. Entirely. To the death we trust one another."
"That is well." Cyril sat down in the arm-chair, and drew Bella on to his knees. "Unity is strength. With you by my side I am not afraid."
"Then you have been afraid?" she asked softly.
"Of losing your love – yes. But now I am satisfied on that point, there is another thing that makes me afraid."
"What is it?"
"I may be accused of this murder. Other people may have seen me, as you saw me, dear."
"Then it was you?" she gasped.
"No, no! I have explained myself. If necessary, I can put forward an alibi."
"Who was the man then?"
"I can't tell you that." Cyril pushed her away, and rose much agitated.
"Then you know?" Bella stood back from him doubtfully.
"I can't be sure. I think – that is, I fancy – Bella, don't ask me anything just now. Later I may be able to explain."
"And you will explain?"
"If it be possible. Remember, I said that I might be able to explain, but of this I cannot be certain."
"I do not understand," sighed the girl, seating herself again. "Cyril, has this matter anything to do with you?"
"The matter of the murder?"
"Yes. I don't mean to ask if you are guilty, as I know you are not. But are you connected in any way with the matter?"
"No," he rejoined promptly, "if I were, I should be an accomplice after the fact. All the same – " He paused, looking paler than ever, and his face became peaked and haggard. "Don't ask me anything yet," he murmured.
"I am willing to trust you, dear," said Bella quietly, "but, as you remarked yourself some time ago, other people – "
He interrupted her. "Other people?"
"Yes. Some one else did see you on that evening."
"The person saw my double," corrected Cyril. "I was in London, as I told you, and as I can prove. Who is this person?"
"Silas Pence."
"Ah!" Lister's hands clenched. "He hates me because you are to be my wife. He will go to the police."
"I don't think so," said Bella slowly. "He threatened to go, but as yet he has held his tongue."
"Why, when he hates me so?"
"I think – I think," said Bella slowly, "that Mr. Pence knows more about this matter than he chooses to admit."
Cyril uttered an exclamation. "Do you suspect him?"
"Not of the murder," she replied promptly; "he is too weak and timid a creature to commit a crime. But I know that he was poor; now he is unexpectedly rich, and we are aware," she added with emphasis, "that one hundred pounds was stolen from my father's safe on the night of the murder."
"But surely you do not connect a harmless man, like Pence, with the crime?"
"I say nothing, because I know nothing, Cyril. But if Mr. Pence is entirely innocent, why does he not accuse you, whom he hates."
"He has no grounds to go upon, dear."
Bella shook her head. "He thinks that he has," she answered, "as he believed it was you he saw when he met your double at the boundary channel. Since he would like to see you in trouble, the very fact that he delays telling the police shows that his own conscience is not easy."
"It is strange," assented Lister. "However, if he does accuse me, I can prove an alibi."
"But what about your double?"
The young man turned away abruptly to the window. "I can say nothing on that point at present."
"When will you explain?"
"I can't say; sooner or later." Lister, with his hands in his pockets, looked out of the window as though to avoid further questioning. This behaviour puzzled Bella, as she felt sure that Cyril could tell her much if inclined to do so. But it was odd that he should so decline. She abruptly reverted to an earlier thought in her mind. "You did not tell me that you had a negro servant called Durgo."
Lister wheeled sharply. "I have no servant, negro or otherwise," he said in a decisive tone. "Why do you say that?"
Bella, wondering still more, gave him details, which Cyril heard with a perplexed frown. He made no comment until she had finished. "You say that this man recognised my portrait. In that case I can guess" – he did not finish his sentence, but became paler than ever.
CHAPTER XI
A RECOGNITION
Bella found the interviews with Cyril eminently unsatisfactory. It was perfectly plain that he entertained strong suspicions regarding the unknown person whom she termed his double. But even when questioned point-blank he declined to explain himself. Yet if Lister knew of someone who resembled him more or less closely he surely could place his hand on that someone. When he did so the assassin of Captain Huxham would speedily be found. This being the case it was strange that Cyril should hesitate, and again and again Bella questioned him bluntly, only to find him more determined than ever to keep his own counsel. Under these circumstances it was useless to prolong the conversation, and the girl left the cottage feeling extremely despondent. It seemed to her that the problem would never be solved, in spite of the certainty she entertained that Cyril could solve it if he so wished.
Nor did Bella feel any brighter when she returned to the Manor, for Mrs. Coppersley chose to take umbrage at her niece's absence. Bella declined to say where she had been, and dismissed the matter in a few cold words. Not feeling sure of her ground, Mrs. Coppersley retreated for the time being, but next day returned to the attack with the evident object of making the Manor-house too hot for the girl. Bella was strong enough to quell open mutiny on the part of her aunt, but she could not defend herself against incessant nagging. Since the death of her brother, Mrs. Coppersley had become as bold as hitherto she had been meek, and in many skilful ways contrived to make her niece feel thoroughly uncomfortable. As Bella had quite enough to bear without being taxed further with these petty worries she became restive, and on the third day of hostilities demanded what her aunt meant by behaving so aggressively. Mrs. Coppersley, better at ambushes than in open warfare, would have shirked the battle, but Bella forced the quarrel since it was absolutely necessary to bring matters to a head.
"You never leave me alone, Aunt Rosamund," she complained wearily.
"Because you are a drone," retorted Mrs. Coppersley. "You eat, yet you do not work. And as St. Paul says – "
"I don't wish to hear what St. Paul says, thank you."
"It would be better if you did. I have your good at heart."
"Nothing of the sort; you merely wish to get rid of me."
Mrs. Coppersley grew vividly red, but did not make any denial. "Why should I not?" she cried loudly. "You treat me as though I were dirt under your feet, miss. Who are you to behave like this, I should like to know?"
"I am my father's daughter," said Bella, very distinctly, "who have been cheated out of my inheritance."
"I'll make you prove those words," said Mrs. Coppersley, turning from scarlet to white. "Go and see Mr. Timson in Cade Lane, and you will find everything has been done to make the will legal."
"I am quite sure of that, Aunt Rosamund, as you are too clever a woman to risk losing your spoil. But you have cheated me by inducing my father to disinherit me in your favour."
"I did not! I did not!" Mrs. Coppersley stamped wrathfully. "Your father borrowed money from me to pay for the farm ten years ago. I lent it on condition that I inherited Bleacres. I told you this before, and – "
"That will do," interrupted Bella imperiously. "I shall see Mr. Timson, and learn for certain if what you have told me is correct. Meantime, as it is quite impossible for me to remain in the house with you, I shall go and stay with Dora Ankers."
"She won't have you," taunted Mrs. Coppersley.
"I have already arranged to live with her until I am married."
"Then you are going to marry that wastrel?"
"I don't know who you mean."
"Mr. Lister, the man who was so hated by your father."
"Whether I marry Mr. Lister or not is my business," said Bella, drily; "and so far as I can learn, my father had no reason to hate him. Do you know why he did so, Aunt Rosamund?"
"No," said Mrs. Coppersley reluctantly, for she would have dearly liked to put a spoke in Bella's wheel, as the saying is. "Jabez's life before he came here was not known to me. But I am quite sure that it was shady, and – "
Bella interrupted again. "Leave the dead alone. You are benefiting by my father's work, whatever it might have been, and have no call to abuse him."
"I only got my own money back," said Mrs. Coppersley defiantly; "but if you leave my house you leave it for ever. I wash my hands of you."
"I am quite content that it should be so," said Bella icily; "but I can't leave my home penniless. Give me fifty pounds until such time as I can see Mr. Timson and learn how I stand."
"What?" Mrs. Coppersley became shrill in her anger. "Give you money to bring lawsuits against me?"
Bella looked at her very directly. "If everything is fair and square, as you say," she observed severely, "there is no danger of lawsuits. Come, Aunt Rosamund, I wish to leave Bleacres this afternoon. Give me the money."
"No!" shouted the older woman, and sat down with folded arms and a dogged expression. "You get no money from me."
Bella was perplexed. She could not use violence, and her aunt seemed very determined. For the moment she was nonplussed, and scarcely knew what to say. But at this moment Henry Vand entered. The conversation had taken place in the study, and Vand came into the room from the hall. Apparently he had just entered the house. In fact, he explained as much, and also confessed calmly that he had listened.
"I heard your voices raised," he said quietly, "and knowing Rosamund's violent temper I waited, so that I might interfere on your behalf, Miss Huxham."
"I want no interference," said Mrs. Coppersley jealousy. "I can manage my own business."
"That may be," said the young man drily, "but you seem to forget that I am your husband."
"Husband!" echoed Bella amazed.
"Yes," said Vand; while Mrs. Coppersley – or rather Mrs. Vand – looked sullenly at the floor. "We have been married for three months, secretly."
"Why secretly?" asked Bella, still wondering at the news.
"That's our business," said her aunt insolently.
"Pardon me, Rosamund," said Vand, who was as polite as his wife was rude. "It is only fair that Miss Huxham should understand the position."
"Have it your own way, then," muttered Mrs. Vand, tossing her head, "only make her understand that I have had enough of her airs and graces. She can clear out of our house as soon as she likes, and leave us to ourselves."
"She is willing to do that for fifty pounds," said Vand politely.
"I shan't give her that amount."
"You are quite right, Rosamund; you will give Miss Huxham a cheque for one hundred pounds."
"Are you out of your senses?" raged his wife, starting to her feet.
"I don't want so much as that, Mr. Vand," said Bella, pleased to think that her new uncle by marriage was taking her part.
"It is a mere question of justice, Miss Huxham. My wife has inherited the Solitary Farm, so it is only right that she should recompense you."
"Mind," said Bella, suddenly, and thinking that this might be a bribe, "if I find anything wrong when I see Mr. Timson I shall bring an action."
"I told you so, Henry," remarked Mrs. Vand triumphantly.
"I have seen the will and the lawyer," said the man quietly, "and everything is correct. There is no flaw. With regard to my marriage, Miss Huxham, I agreed to a secret ceremony since your late father was opposed to my courtship of your aunt. But the time has now come to proclaim the marriage, so I have brought my luggage here to-day."
"And that is why my aunt wishes me to leave the house," said Bella, with a curling lip.
Vand, who was much the most self-controlled of the trio, looked at her very straightly. "You can come or stay as you please," he said gently. "I am quite willing that you should remain."
"Oh," cried Mrs. Vand furiously, "so you want her to remain. Perhaps you are in love with her; perhaps you would like to – "
"Aunt," interrupted Bella, blushing with annoyance, "how can you talk so foolishly. Mr. Vand loves you, or he would not have married you. As for me, I am going away to Dora's as soon as you give me the money."
"Not one penny."
Vand gazed steadily at the furious woman. In spite of his club foot he was certainly handsome, and looked as refined as his wife looked coarse. He must have had good blood in his veins in spite of his lowly birth, and, without appearing to do so, managed, on this occasion at least, to dominate the more animal nature. Bella neither liked nor disliked the cripple, but she could not help admiring the skilful way in which he mastered her aunt. Perhaps he magnetised her with his large blue eyes or the calmness of his manner may have had a soothing effect. But, whatever was the cause, Mrs. Vand winced under his silent gaze and lowered her voice, as she consented unexpectedly to do what he suggested. "I shall give Bella a cheque for one hundred pounds on condition that she does not trouble me again," she grumbled, going to the desk with an affectation of generosity.
"You seem to hate me so much that there is no need for me to see you any more," said Bella bitterly.
"But I warn you that if the will is not right I shall take steps to recover the farm, which I look upon as my property."
"It is not your property, it is mine; and Jabez's income also," said Mrs. Vand, looking up from the cheque she was writing, "and if you don't promise to leave things alone you shan't have the money."
"I refuse to sell my heritage for a mess of potage," cried Bella, impetuously.
"There is no need that you should," interposed Vand gently. "Rosamund, sign the cheque."
Mrs. Vand scowled, hesitated, but finally did as she was ordered, throwing it on the floor afterwards in silent fury. Her husband picked it up and handed it, with a bow, to Bella.
"There you are, Miss Huxham," he said with marked courtesy. "I hope you will be happy at Miss Ankers'. So far as I am aware, everything has been left to my wife, but later I shall endeavour to make some arrangement with Rosamund by which you will be benefited. And I beg of you not to leave this house in anger."
"I shall make no arrangement, now or hereafter," cried Mrs. Vand. "Bella has received all that she will receive. For my part, I'm glad to see the back of her," and with a red face and a scornful look she flounced out of the room, much to the girl's relief.
"I wonder why my aunt hates me so?" she asked Vand with a piteous look. "I have never done her any harm."
"She only gives way to her temper, Miss Huxham," said the cripple soothingly, "and doesn't mean half she says. Don't trouble any more about Rosamund. I am your friend. You will shake hands, will you not?"
Bella did not hesitate to take the hand extended to her, as she admitted silently that if Vand had not interposed she would not have received the money. Besides, her new relative throughout had proved himself to be so courteous and thoughtful that she had no reason to mistrust him. Howsoever Mrs. Vand had become possessed of the farm and income of the late Captain Huxham, her husband was at least innocent. "But I do not bind myself to take no steps if necessary to recover Bleacres," Bella warned the young man, as she shook his hand. "You understand that?"
"Perfectly; and indeed, if Rosamund has come wrongfully by the estate she must surrender it. Still, Miss Huxham, you cannot expect me to doubt my own wife, especially as Rosamund has been good enough to marry a cripple such as I am."
"I think, without flattery to you," said Bella, walking towards the door, "that my aunt has got the best of the bargain," and the last thing she saw when throwing a glance over her shoulder was Vand blushing crimson at the unusual compliment. But Bella meant what she said, as even ease and wealth were hardly purchased by marriage with a furious, coarse-natured woman such as Rosamund Vand. The girl wondered how she had ever come to have such an aunt; she might have wondered also how she ever came to have a parent so common and ruffianly as her late father had been.
That same afternoon Bella packed all her belongings and had them carried by Tunks to the hither side of the boundary channel. There they were placed on a hand-cart and wheeled to Miss Ankers' cottage. Mrs. Vand discreetly kept out of the way when Bella departed, or perhaps her husband insisted that she should not drive forth the girl with insults, as she certainly would have done. At all events she remained invisible, and it was Vand alone who said good-bye to the homeless girl. Bella felt a pang when she looked back along the narrow path of the corn-fields to see a stranger standing in the doorway. She was certain of one thing – that Mrs. Vand had found a master, and that for all his quietness and polite ways her husband would not allow her to have her own way as she had hitherto done. Doubtless her aunt had deemed Vand would be as harmless and innocuous as the scarlet-coated scarecrow, of which Bella caught a last glimpse; but there was no doubt in the girl's mind as to which of the happy pair would rule the house. Mrs. Vand's coarse bullying could do very little against the quiet persistence of a polite man, who was determined to govern. So far as Bella knew from Huxham, her aunt had ruled her first husband with a rod of iron; now she was about to be governed in her turn. "And much good may it do her," thought Bella, who was much too human to be forgiving.
Dora was delighted that her best friend should board with her, and received Miss Huxham with open arms. After tea, the two arranged Bella's bedroom to their satisfaction and unpacked her boxes. Then they had a talk as to the advisability of going to Cade Lane for the purpose of questioning Mr. Timson regarding the will. "You should attend to the matter at once, my dear," said Dora, who was extremely practical for all her doll-like looks. "Lose no time, for I am certain that your aunt has employed some trickery in getting possession of the property."