Ovington's Bank. Weyman Stanley John

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      No, he had not played quite fairly with his father. But the thought of that weighed lightly on him. For this that had come to him, this love that glorified all things, even as Spring the face of Nature, that filled his mind with a thousand images, each more enchanting than the last, and inspired his imagination with a magic not its own, – this visited a man but once; whereas he would have long years in which he might redeem the time, long years in which he might warm his father's heart by an attendance at the desk that should shame Rodd himself! Ay, and he would! He would! Even the sacrifice of his own tastes, his own wishes seemed in his present mood a small surrender, and one he owed and fain would pay.

      For he was in love with goodness, he longed to put himself right with all. He longed to do his duty to all, he who walked with a firmer step, who trod the soil with a conquering foot, who found new beauties in star and flower, he, so happy, so proud, so blessed!

      But this being his mood, there was a burden which weighed on him, and weighing on him more heavily every day, and that was the part which he was playing towards the Squire. It had long galled him, when absent from her; of late it had begun to mar his delight in her presence. The role of secret lover had charmed for a time-what more shy, more elusive, more retiring than young love? And what more secret? Fain would it shun all eyes. But he had now reached a farther stage, and being honest, and almost quixotic by nature, he could not without pain fall day by day below the ideals which his fancy set up. To-day he had come to meet Josina with a fixed resolve, and a mind wound to the pitch of action; and presently into the fair pool of her content-yet quaking as he did so lest he should seem to hint a fault-he cast the stone.

      "And now, Jos," he said, his eyes looking bravely into hers, "I must see your father."

      "My father!" Fear sprang into her eyes. She stiffened.

      "Yes, dear," he repeated. "I must see your father-and speak to him. There is no other course possible."

      Color, love, joy, all fled from her face. She shivered. "My father!" she stammered, pale to the lips. "Oh, it is impossible! It is impossible! You would not do it!" She would have withdrawn her hands if he had not held them. "You cannot, cannot mean it! Have you thought what you are saying?"

      "I have, indeed," he said, sobered by her fear, and full of pity for her. "I lay awake for hours last night thinking of it. But there is no other course, Jos, no other course-if we would be happy."

      "But, oh, you don't know him!" she cried, panic-stricken. And her terror wrung his heart. "You don't know him! Or what he will think of me!"

      "Nothing very bad," he rejoined. But more than ever, more than before, his conscience accused him. He felt that the shame which burned her face and in a moment gave way to the pallor of fear was the measure of his guilt; and in proportion as he winced under that knowledge, and under the knowledge that it was she who must pay the heavier penalty, he took blame to himself and was strengthened in his resolve. "Listen, Jos," he said bravely. "Listen! And let me tell you what I mean. And, dearest, do not tremble as you are trembling. I am not going to tell him to-day. But tell him I must some day-and soon, if we do not wish him to learn it from others."

      She shuddered. All had been so bright, so new, so joyous; and now she was to pay the price. And the price had a very terrible aspect for her. Fate, a cruel, pitiless fate, was closing upon her. She could not speak, but her eyes, her quivering lips, pleaded with him for mercy.

      He had expected that, and he steeled himself, showing thereby the good metal that was in him. "Yes," he said firmly, "we must, Jos. And for a better reason than that. Because if we do not, if we continue to deceive your father, he will not only have reason to be angry with you, but to despise me; to look upon me as a poor unmanly thing, Jos, a coward who dared not face him, a craven who dared not ask him for what he valued above all the world! Who stole it from him in the dark and behind his back! As it is he will be angry enough. He will look down upon me, and with justice. And at first he will say 'No,' and I fear he will separate us, and there will be no more meetings, and we may have to wait. But if we are brave, if we trust one another and are true to one another-and, alas, you will have to bear the worst-if we can bear and be strong, in the end, believe me, Jos, it will come right."

      "Never," she cried, despairing, "never! He will never allow it!"

      "Then-"

      "Oh," she prayed, "can we not go on as we are?"

      "No, we cannot." He was firm. "We cannot. By and by you would discover that for yourself, and you, as well as he, would have cause to despise me. For consider, Jos, think, dear. If I do not seek you for my wife, what is before us? To what can we look forward? To what future? What end? Only to perpetual alarms, and some day, when we least expect it, to discovery-to discovery that will cover me with disgrace."

      She did not answer. She had taken her hands from him, she had taken herself from him. She leant on the stile, her face hidden. But he dared not give way, nor would he let himself be repulsed; and very tenderly he laid his hand on her shoulder. "It is natural that you should be frightened," he said. "But if I, too, am frightened; if, seeing the proper course, I do not take it, how can you ever trust me or depend on me? What am I then but a coward? What is the worth of my love, Jos, if I have not the courage to ask for you?"

      "But he will want to know-" her shoulders heaved in her agitation, "he will want to know-"

      "How we met? I know. And how we loved? Yes, I am afraid so. And he will be angry with you, and you will suffer, and I shall be God knows how wretched! But if I do not go to him, how much more angry will he be! And how much more ground for anger will he have! If we continue to meet it cannot be long kept from him, and then how much worse will it be! And I, with not a word to say for myself, with no defence, no plea! I, who shall not then seem to him to be even a man."

      "But he is so-so hard!" she whispered, her face still hidden.

      "I know, dear. And so firmly set in his prejudice and his pride. I know. He will think me so far below you; he hates the bank and all connected with it. He holds me a mere clerk, not one of his class, and low, dear, I know it. But" – his voice rose a tone-"I am not low, Jos, and you have discovered it. And now I must prove it to him. I must prove it. And to make a beginning, I must be no coward. I must not be afraid of him. For you, the times are past when he could ill-treat you. And he loves you."

      "He is very hard," she murmured. It was his punishment throughout, that though his heart was wrung for her he could not bear her share of the suffering. But he dared not and he would not give way. "He will make me give you up."

      He had thought of that and was ready for it. "That must depend upon you," he said very soberly. "For my part, dear-but my part is easy-I shall never give you up. Never! But if the trial be too sore for you who must bear the heavier burden, if you feel that our love is not worth the price you must pay, then I will never reproach you, Jos, never. If you decide on that I will not say one word against it; no, nor think one harsh thought of you. And then we need not tell him. But we must not meet again."

      She trembled; and it was natural, it was very natural, that she should tremble. It was an age when discipline was strict and even harsh, and she had been bred up in awe of her father, and in that absolute subjection to him of which the women about her set the example. Children were then to be seen and not heard. Girls were expected to have neither wills nor views of their own. And in her case this was not all. The Squire was a hard man. He was a man of whom those about him stood СКАЧАТЬ