The Greatest Murder Mysteries - G.A. Henty Edition. G. A. Henty

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СКАЧАТЬ for had not she, too, been declared under the ban of society, and for no fault or sin of her own? It is true, society had now condescended to visit her, but why? Was she any better or more honourably born than before? Had her conduct in any way softened them towards her? Not a bit. A bishop had said that she might be visited, and so the world had graciously extended its hand and received her into its fold. But although Sophy accepted the offered hand, she hated the giver of it; and although she arrayed her face with a placid smile as she entered into society, it only covered a sense of bitter outrage and of indignant contempt. Nursing, as she did, feelings like these, it was with an absolute sense of pleasure that she found that her lover, like herself, was deemed an outcast. To her it was but one more new tie between them; and when Robert had finished his confession, her own rage and wrongs against society broke out in a stream of bitter, passionate words, and Robert Gregory found there was far more in the ordinarily tranquil, quiet woman before him than he had ever given her credit for. However, her present frame of mind was most favourable for his plans, and he therefore took good care to keep alive her resentment against the world, in order to bind her more closely to himself. It was soon after this that the fêtes at Harmer Place were given. Robert Gregory managed to obtain an invitation, but arranged with Sophy that he would not dance with her, alleging the truth, that if he did so, society would be sure to poison Mr. Harmer's mind against him, and render his consent to their marriage out of the question; and Sophy was content to follow his guidance in all things, and to see everything with his eyes.

      The real difficulties of Robert Gregory's course were only yet beginning. Sophy was, indeed, won; but it was Sophy's money, and not herself, that he cared for; now Sophy's money at present depended upon Mr. Harmer, and not upon herself; and Robert feared that in the event of a runaway match, Mr. Harmer would very materially alter his will. Still, on the other hand, her grandfather was extremely fond of her; he had no one else to leave his money to, and he might in time reinstate her in his favour. At last he asked Sophy if she thought Mr. Harmer would, after a time, forgive her if she made a runaway match with him, for he had no hope of ever obtaining his consent beforehand. Sophy was very loath to answer the question. She was quite ready to marry Robert, but she shrank from the thought of paining the old man who had been so kind to her. However, as Robert again and again returned to the point, she at last came to discuss it as calmly as he did.

      "Yes, she thought Mr. Harmer would be reconciled to her; she believed he would miss her so much, that he would be sure to forgive her in a short time; it was not in his nature to bear malice to any one. Yes, he would soon come round; indeed, she was certain that if Robert would but make himself known to him, that Mr. Harmer would not care for what other people said, but would judge for himself, and would esteem and like him as she did."

      This course Sophy pressed very much upon her lover, with many loving entreaties and tears, for she really loved Mr. Harmer truly, and shrank from grieving him. These entreaties, however, Robert always gently, but decidedly put aside. He said that Mr. Harmer would be certain to believe the edict of society against him, would decline to grant him any opportunity of justifying himself, and would refuse to allow him to enter the house. Besides he would be just as angry at discovering the secret understanding which existed between them, as he would be at their marriage, and he would be certain to forbid all intercourse between them, and perhaps even insert a condition in his will forbidding her to marry him under pain of the forfeiture of his fortune. For Robert made no secret from Sophy that her money would be of the greatest use to them; not, as he put it, that he cared for money for its own sake, but that if they were rich they could spend their life abroad, where no scoff or sneer of society could reach them, and where they should never be disturbed by the sarcasms and whispers of the world; while they, in their turn, would be able to show society how heartily they despised it, and how well they could do without it.

      Sophy, in her present state of mind, thought all this very grand and heroic, and really believed that her lover spoke in a noble and disinterested manner; and as she was herself perfectly conscious of the advantages of wealth, she quite agreed that, if possible, her fortune should not be sacrificed.

      Robert, then, at last, succeeded in persuading her that a runaway match was the only alternative, and as she really believed that she would be very soon forgiven by Mr. Harmer, it was at length arranged to take place shortly. This was in the spring of the year, and their secret acquaintance had then continued eighteen months. The date was fixed for the elopement, when the paralytic stroke which Mr. Harmer had put a stop to all their plans; and this for two reasons: pressed as he again was for money—for his creditors, who had been only partially paid before, were now becoming clamorous—Robert Gregory felt that with Mr. Harmer at the point of death it would be perfect madness to run the risk of Sophy being disinherited, when a few weeks might leave her the undisputed owner of £75,000; so although sorely harassed for money, he was content to wait. The other reason was that Sophy was full of remorse at the thought that she had been at the point of deserting her benefactor. She met Robert now very seldom, but devoted herself to Mr. Harmer. As, however, the weeks ran on, he slowly but surely recovered health and became his former self, and her constant attendance on him was no longer needed; so she fell back to her old habits; her meetings in the plantation became more frequent, and his influence resumed its power over her. Robert Gregory had discernment enough to suit his behaviour to his words: when the old man was at his worst, he was full of tender commiseration for her; when he began to recover, he pretended a warm interest in his health, although inwardly he was filled with rage and chagrin at his convalescence. At length his own affairs arrived at such a crisis that he was in momentary fear of arrest, and he felt that once in prison his union with Sophy must be postponed at any rate till after Mr. Harmer's death, which now again appeared to be a distant event. He, therefore, once more began to persuade Sophy to elope with him; but he had a far more difficult task than before. All his old arguments were brought forward; but it was some time before he could succeed. Gradually, however, her old habit of listening to his opinion prevailed; she allowed herself to be persuaded that her grandfather might now live for many years, and that he could for a short time dispense with her services; that as she had been so useful to him during his illness, and as he must be more attached to her than ever, it was quite certain that he could not for long remain proof to her entreaties for forgiveness.

      And so at last, but not without many tears and much bitter self-reproach, Sophy consented to an elopement—consented at that very interview coming from which Dr. Ashleigh surprised Robert Gregory—who, elated by his success, was making his way off without observing his usual care and precaution.

      At breakfast on the following morning, Mr. Harmer remarked that Sophy looked pale and ill; she answered that her head ached sadly, but that she had no doubt a stroll in the grounds would do it good. After breakfast she accordingly went out, and, after wandering for some time carelessly in sight of the house, she made her usual circuit to avoid observation, and then entered the plantation near the road. She found Robert Gregory waiting for her under the tree where they had now met for just two years, sometimes once a week, sometimes once a month, according to the time of year, and the opportunities Sophy had for rambling about. Robert looked anxiously at her as she came up, to see if there were any signs of flinching or drawing back in her pale face, but there were none. Sophy was quiet and shy, but she had a fund of quiet determination and courage within her. He kissed her tenderly. "You are looking pale this morning, little one."

      "I daresay," she answered, "for I have not closed my eyes all night. Is everything ready?"

      "Quite. I shall be with the gig in the road just outside that gap, a minute or two before a quarter past eight; if you will get here a few minutes after that time, we shall be able to catch the nine o'clock train to London easily. I shall take you to an Hotel near Euston Square, and we will go on by the early train to Scotland, and shall be half way there before they find out in the morning that you are gone. You can trust me, dearest?"

      "Yes, Robert," Sophy said quietly. "I have trusted you all these meetings here, and I have found you an honourable gentleman, and I am not going to distrust you now. I feel sure that all will turn out as we wish, and that grandpapa will forgive me very soon, and take us both into favour; and СКАЧАТЬ