Starvecrow Farm. Weyman Stanley John

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СКАЧАТЬ fury to the life. "And see that this person leaves the room. Good-morning, sir. You will hear from Mr. Stewart what I think of your intrusion."

      Bishop opened his mouth to reply. But he caught Mrs. Gilson's eye; and by a look, such a look as appalled even the Bow Street runner's stout heart, she indicated the door. After a second of hesitation he passed out meekly.

      When he was gone, "Very good, miss," the landlady said in the tone of one who restrained her temper with difficulty-"very good. But if you're to be ready you'd best eat your breakfast-if, that is, it is good enough for you!" she added. And with a very grim face she swept from the room and left Henrietta in possession of the field.

      The girl sprang to the window and looked up and down the road. She had the same view of the mild autumn morning, of the grey lake and distant range of hills which had calmed her thoughts an hour earlier. But the beauty of the scene availed nothing now. She was flushed with vexation-impatient, resentful. Where was he? He was not in sight. Then where could he be? And why did he leave her? Did he think that he need no longer press his suit, that the need for pettis soins and attentions was over? Oh, but she would show him! And in a moment all the feelings of the petted, spoiled girl were up in arms.

      "They are horrid!" she cried, angry tears in her eyes. "It's an outrage-a perfect outrage! And he is no better. How dare he leave me, this morning of all mornings?"

      On which there might have stolen into her mind-so monstrous did his neglect seem-a doubt, a suspicion; the doubt and the suspicion which she repelled a few minutes earlier. But, as she turned, her eyes fell on the breakfast-table; and vexation was not proof against a healthy appetite.

      "I will show him," she thought resentfully, "that I am not so dependent on him as he thinks. I shall not wait-I shall take my breakfast. That odious woman was right for once."

      And she sat down in the seat placed for her. But as quickly she was up again, and at the oval glass over the mantel-where Samuel Rogers had often viewed his cadaverous face-to inspect herself and be sure that she was looking her best, so that his despair, when he came and found her cold and distant, would be the deeper. Soon satisfied, she returned, smiling dangerously, to her seat; and this time she fell-to upon the eggs and girdle-cakes, and the home-cured ham, and the tea at ten shillings a pound. The room had a window to the lake and a second window which looked to the south and was not far from the first. Though low-ceiled, it was of a fair size, with a sunk cupboard, with glazed upper doors, on each side of the fireplace, and cushioned seats in the window-places. In a recess near the door-the room was full of corners-were book-shelves; and on the other side of the door stood a tall clock with a very pale face. The furniture was covered with some warm red stuff, well worn; and an air of that snug comfort which was valued by Englishmen of the day pervaded all, and went well with the scent of the China tea.

      But neither tea nor comfort, nor the cheerful blaze on the hearth, could long hold Henrietta's thoughts; nor resentment repress her anxiety. Presently she began to listen after every mouthful: her fork was as often suspended as at work. Her pretty face grew troubled and her brow more deeply puckered, until her wandering eye fell on the clock, and she saw that the slowly jerking hand was on the verge of the half-hour.

      Then she sprang up, honestly frightened. She flew to the window that looked on the lake and peered out anxiously; thence to the side window, but she got no glimpse of him. She came back distracted to the table and stood pressing her hands to her eyes. What if they were right, and he had not slept in his bed? What if something had happened to him? But that was impossible! Impossible! Things did not happen on such mornings as this! On wedding mornings! Yet if that were the case, and they had sent for her that they might break it to her-and then their hearts, even that woman's heart, had failed them? What-what then?

      She was trying to repel the thought when she fancied that she heard a sound at the door, and with a gasp of relief she looked up. If he had entered at that moment, she would have flung herself into his arms and forgiven all and forgotten all. But he did not enter, and her heart sank again, and lower. She went slowly to the door and listened, and found that the sound which she had heard was caused by the whispering of persons outside.

      She summoned her pride to her aid then. She opened the door to its full extent and walked back to the table, and turning, waited haughtily for them to enter. But to speak, to command her voice, was harder, and it was all she could do to murmur,

      "Something has happened to him" – her lip fluttered ominously-"and you have come to tell me?"

      "Nothing that I know of," Bishop answered cheerfully. He and the landlady had walked in and closed the door behind them. "Nothing at all."

      "No?" She could hardly believe him.

      "Not the least thing in life, miss," he repeated. "He's alive and well for what I know-alive and well!"

      She sat down on a chair that stood beside her, and the colour flowed back to her cheeks. She laughed weakly.

      "I was afraid that something had happened," she murmured.

      "No," Mr. Bishop answered, more seriously, "it's not that. It's not that, miss. But all the same it's trouble. Now if you were to tell me," he continued, leaning forward persuasively, "where you come from, I need have hardly a word with you. I can see you're a lady; your friends will come; and, s'help me, in six months you'll have your matie again, and not know it happened!

      "I shall not tell you," she said.

      The officer shook his head, surprised by her firmness.

      "Come now, miss-be advised," he urged. "Be reasonable. Just think for once that others may know better than you, and save me the trouble-that's a good young lady."

      But the wheedling appeal, the familiar tone, grated on her. Her fingers, tapping on the table, betrayed impatience as well as alarm.

      "I do not understand you," she said, with some return of her former distance. "If nothing has happened to Mr. Stewart, I do not understand what you can have to say to me, nor why you are here."

      He shrugged his shoulders.

      "Well, miss," he said, "if you must have it, you must. I'm bound to say you are not a young lady to take a hint."

      That frightened her.

      "If nothing has happened to him-" she murmured, and looked from one to the other; from Mr. Bishop's smug face to the landlady's stolid visage.

      "It's not what has happened to him," the runner answered bluntly. "It is what is likely to happen to him."

      He drew from his pocket as he spoke a large leather case, unstrapped it, and put the strap, which would have handily spliced a cart-trace of these days, between his teeth. Then he carefully selected from the mass of papers which the case contained a single letter. It was written, as the letters of that day were written, on three sides of a square sheet of coarsish paper. The fourth side served for envelope-that is, it bore the address and seal. But Bishop was careful to fold the letter in such a way that these and the greater part of the writing were hidden. He proffered the paper, so arranged, to Henrietta.

      "D'you know the handwriting," he asked, "of that letter, miss?"

      She had watched his actions with fascinated eyes, and could not think, could not imagine, whither they tended. She was really frightened now. But her mettle was high; she had the nerves of youth, and she hid her dismay. The hand with which she took the letter was steady as a rock, the manner with which she looked at it composed; but no sooner had her eyes fallen on the writing than she uttered an exclamation, and the colour rose to her cheeks.

      "How did you СКАЧАТЬ