The Man with a Shadow

“But Tom Candlish – the squire?”

“I tell you he’s alive, man! Do you not understand?”

And the party in question endorsed his rival’s statement by uttering a low moan.

At that moment, by natural magnetism, or influence, or occult action of mind upon mind, or whatever it may have been, two people who had lain wakeful and excited in their separate beds, now feverish, now perspiring profusely from horror and abject fear, turned their weary heads upon their pillows, and dropped off fast asleep.

The name of one of the sleepers was Leo Salis, and of the other Joe Chegg.

“But he’s nearly dead, doctor,” whispered Moredock, and he glanced round at the coffin.

“Don’t you think that – ”

He made a significant sign towards the coffin, and there was a strange leer upon his ghoulish face.

Dr North turned swiftly round, and caught his tempter by the throat!

Volume Two – Chapter Seventeen.

The Sexton’s News

“You ring, sir?”

“Yes, Dally; go up to Miss Leo’s room, and say we are waiting breakfast.”

“Yes, sir,” said Dally, and her blackcurrant eyes gave a malicious twinkle.

“Oh, how I should like to know,” she muttered to herself, as she left the room.

“It’s so tiresome,” exclaimed Salis testily; “busy as I am this morning – letters to write. I must answer this last letter of May’s. More complaints – more complaints! Oh, what a wretched curate he has got!”

Mary looked up from her seat, with her gentle smile, for she knew how the harsh crystals of annoyance would melt away with the first cup of tea, and her brother be all smiles again.

“Wouldn’t you like to begin, dear?”

“Begin? Without Leo! You know, Mary, how particular she is, and how she would feel it as a slight. Tut – tut – tut! How late she is! Mrs Berens, too, been writing. Do you know, Mary, I wish that woman would leave the place!”

“She is not likely to, Hartley,” said Mary, who was propped up with cushions at the head of the table, having lately taken her old place once more; “and she is very kind and good.”

“Yes, that’s the worst of it,” said Salis grimly. “If she were a disagreeable old harridan, it would not matter so much. Oh! here she comes.”

Leo came quickly into the breakfast-room, looking strained about the eyes, to cross to Mary, put down her right cheek to be kissed, and then to go to her brother, extend him her hand, and lower her left cheek for a second salute.

“That’s right, dear,” said Salis cheerily; “but you are terribly late. I’m so busy this morning.”

“Why did you not begin?” said Leo, as she languidly took her place.

“Without you? Not likely. Pour out, Mary, dear. Why, Leo – not well?”

“Not well?” she said, repeating his words calmly enough. “I am quite well, dear.”

“But you look – ”

“As if I had overslept myself,” said Leo quietly. “Any letters?”

“Yes. One sent on by Mrs Berens about the parish poor. Must bring that up this morning. One from May. That wicked old man! I know he keeps on with this persecution – there, I can call it nothing else – on purpose to get me to resign.”

“And you will not resign, Hartley,” said Leo; “you will set him at defiance.”

“I don’t know. I do love a quiet life, and I cannot get it. Now, here’s this morning. Letters to write – more tea, Mary. Ten-o’clock meeting in the vestry.”

“Ah!”

“Why, Leo, dear!” cried the curate, half starting from his chair, while Mary gazed wonderingly at her sister.

“There’s nothing the matter, good people,” said Leo contemptuously. “A touch of toothache! The weather, I suppose.”

“You quite startled me,” said Salis cheerily. “Visit to the dentist imminent, my dear. Let’s see, where was I? Oh, yes! Vestry meeting at ten,” he continued, turning to a memorandum-book; “Sir Thomas Candlish to preside, by special request.”

Leo’s face was ghastly, but she mastered her emotions by a tremendous effort of will; and, rising from her seat, she fetched a book from the sideboard, opened it as she returned to her place, and went on reading with her breakfast.

“Ah! you’ll be glad to hear this, Mary,” said Salis. “North is going to bring up the question of those four dilapidated cottages. He says they are regular fever generators, and that Sir Thomas shall have them pulled down, for they are a disgrace to the place.”

“They certainly are not fit for human habitation, Hartley,” said Mary, who could not keep her wondering eyes off her sister, making a pretence of eating and reading, but doing neither. She could do nothing but listen to the recital of peril after peril accumulating round her, and all following upon a pert, insolent reply given her by Dally Watlock as she was coming down.

“I expect we shall have a storm,” continued Salis, as if to himself. “It’s like asking the arbitrary landlord to have a tooth out, to pull down a labourer’s cottage.”

Leo Salis had the spirit and cruelty of heart of an old Roman woman. She could have viewed with a feeling of intense delight a gladiatorial exhibition, and turned down her thumb with the worst of them for the death-warrant of any poor wretch who had not displayed a sufficiency of courage. To her the new-born passion of Horace North had been a matter of intense satisfaction, and she had revelled with a malicious joy in the feeling that she had made him her slave – one who would never meet with the slightest reward. But while she was careless of the pain she inflicted upon others, she could suffer keenly at times, and this was one of these occasions. She loved as a tigress might love, and her affection had become centred upon the brutal, coarse-minded, athletic scoundrel, who ranked as a gentleman, but whose tastes and ways were those of a low-class stable helper; and now, after a night of miserable anxiety lest her lover should have been injured by North, while she dare make no inquiry as to what had occurred – she found herself obliged to sit there chained as much by inclination as by necessity to hear that Tom Candlish and the doctor were to be brought face to face before her brother in the scene of the previous night’s encounter.

After a short sleep, she had awoke at dawn to ask herself what she should do – whether she should fly from the Rectory, and bid Tom Candlish take her away, so that she should not be called upon to face the scornful looks and contempt of North.

But after a time her stubborn and determined nature had taught her that she would be at a great disadvantage with Tom Candlish if she went to him. He would be no longer the suer but the sued, and she was determined that he should make her his wife.

“North dare not speak to me; and if he did, what then? He is my slave, and I will meet him. Let him come, and say what he likes. I am no sickly, sentimental girl who feels bound to obey every one in turn. I will not go. I’ll face it all.”

She could not conceal her aspect, but her heart was strong when she came down that morning till the troubles seemed to accumulate, and a black cloud of care, which she could not penetrate, appeared to be rising.

Salis went on hurriedly with his breakfast, talking of the business in the vestry; and all the time Leo was wondering how it was that North could have known of their meetings – how the vestry looked that morning – what the old sexton would say, and how this trouble would settle down.

She glanced furtively aside, and saw that Mary was watching her.

This set her wondering whether her sister knew anything, and of whether her nocturnal escapades would reach her brother’s ears.

It was not likely, she told herself; and she was gradually growing more composed, when Dally presented herself briskly at the door, her eyes twinkling, and a quiet, satisfied look about her which seemed to show that she was pleased with the task she had in hand.

“Note from Dr North, sir! No answer.”

“Hah! about the cottages,” said Salis, smiling as he opened the note, Dally closing the door after darting a triumphant glance at Leo, which was not seen. “Ammunition to use against the enemy. How provoking!”