King of the Castle

“With your mistress?”

“No, Miss Mary. She is in the garden.”

Mary shuddered as she thought of the future, and of Glyddyr’s recovery of his health.

“Are you cold, Miss Mary?” said Woodham earnestly.

“Yes – I mean no. That is – nothing. If Miss Claude – ”

She stopped short.

“I mean, if your mistress calls for me, say I have gone for a walk. No, no, no,” she cried passionately. “I must not go. If he knew that I had been out, it would cause trouble.”

Sarah Woodham sighed. The words were incontrovertible.

Mary began to take off her things, but changed her mind and put them on again.

“I will go. I must see him,” she said. “You shall go with me, Sarah. It would not look so then – would it?”

“I think, as Mr Trevithick cannot come here now, you have a perfect right to go and see him.”

“Mr Trevithick!” cried Mary, with her face aflame; “why do you say that? I did not speak of going to see Mr Trevithick.”

“No, Miss Mary – no, my dear; but do you think I did not know. And I’m very, very glad.”

Mary was looking at her with flashing eyes, but the flames were put out by her tears, and she caught and pressed Sarah’s hand.

“You don’t seem like a servant to us,” she whispered quickly. “Come with me, please.”

Five minutes later they were on their way down the slope to the beach, with Mary trembling at what she thought was her daring behaviour; and as she walked on everybody she passed seemed to know where she was going, and to crown her confusion, just as they were nearing Mrs Sarson’s, Chris Lisle came out, nodded to her, changing colour a little, and was about to pass her, but he stopped short.

It was the first time they had met for months.

“Will you shake hands, Mary?” he said, raising his own hesitatingly.

“You know I will,” she cried eagerly, as she placed hers in his, glad of the relief from her thoughts.

“I am very, very glad to speak to you again, dear,” he said, in a subdued way. “You look so well, too, with that colour. There, I will not keep you. Perhaps some day we may meet again, and be able to have a friendly chat. Good-bye!”

He walked hurriedly away, and the tears rose to her eyes.

“Poor dear Chris!” she said. “I always seemed to love him as if he were my brother.”

“Who could help liking him, Miss Mary?”

“Sarah?”

“Yes, miss. You were speaking aloud. Ah! poor lad, we don’t often see him about now. Look, miss; Mr Trevithick.”

Mary had already seen the lawyer as he stepped out of the hotel and came towards them slowly, till he appeared to see them suddenly, when he turned sharply upon his heel and went back to the hotel.

Mary crimsoned with mortification, and then felt as if she would sink beneath the weight of her misery. Nearly a fortnight had passed, and her lover had made no sign; and now, when they were on the point of meeting, he had openly avoided her.

Mary’s heart felt as if it sank down into the darkness. There could be but one interpretation, she said. He had repented of the engagement, and his eyes had been opened to what a poor, misshapen little thing she was.

“Sarah!” she whispered hoarsely, “I cannot see where I am going; please take me home quickly, so that I am not – ”

“No, no, my dear, let’s walk up here first and over the bridge into the glen. You are too agitated to be seen. Try and be firm, my dear – try and be firm.”

Totally unnerved, the poor girl clung to the sturdy woman by her side, and readily allowed her to guide her right away up into the calm, silent glen, where, making a sign, she let Sarah Woodham assist her to one of the detached rocks, where she sat down to let her tears of misery have full vent.

“And I was so happy,” she moaned at last, as she looked up piteously in Sarah Woodham’s face. “Is there real happiness, Sarah, for poor creatures such as we? Life appears to be all misery and care.”

It was only about the third walk that Glyddyr had taken alone, and he left home reluctantly, and with a shadow as it were following every step.

“I oughtn’t to have gone and left her,” he muttered. “It’s of no use trying to deceive myself; all that quiet, calm way means something, and I’m sure they meet – I could swear it. She never dares to look me straight in the face. I won’t stay away long. I won’t stay here long either. I see him; he’s always hanging about trying to catch sight of her. Does he think I’m blind? I know! I know!”

He walked on hurriedly toward the quarry, but he had over-rated his strength, and grinding his teeth with rage, he sat down and began to wipe his wet brow.

“This cursed weakness,” he groaned. “But I’m stronger and better now. If I could have a drop of brandy now and then – not much – I should soon be all right.”

“Yes,” he said, after a pause, during which he had been looking nervously round, “I’ll go away and take her on the Continent for our wedding trip. In another week I shall be strong and well enough, and we’ll go away, and Chris Lisle may grind his teeth, and say the grapes are sour.

“I wonder whether they ever have met while I was so ill and at my worst? He knows the way. He was found in the grounds that night. Would she dare?

“No, no,” he muttered, after a long pause. “She wouldn’t dare, but he might persuade her. Curse him! Why does he stay in the place?

“There, there; this won’t do. I’m getting hot and excited, and I can’t bear it yet. I’ll go on now and see what the scoundrels are doing with the stones. I know they rob me because I’m ill and don’t understand the trade; but I’ll startle some of them.

“Now, then, I’m better now. The old strength’s coming back, and – No,” he cried, with a whine of misery, “I can’t go on. If I go there it will seem as if he’s back and at my elbow always. It’s bad enough at home. He seems to haunt the cursed place, and I’m always fancying he’s there. That doctor does me no good; no good. I want strength, strength. There, I’ll go back.”

He was so weak that, short as the distance was, he was well-nigh spent, and had to sit down twice. But as he reached the end of the hollow road, overshadowed by trees, and came out in the open, where he could see the sea and feel the cool breeze, he recovered himself.

“Yes, there she lies,” he said, as he let his eyes rest upon his yacht. “What a time since I have been aboard! Yes, why not at once? We’ll go to-morrow and sail across to France, and coast down to the Pyrenees. Get away from here; curse the place. It will be long before I come back.”

He panted a little as he turned up the slope and passed through the gateway, to pause on the terrace, and look once more upon the yacht, as she lay about a quarter of a mile from where he stood.

“I was a fool not to think of it before. Get her right away; she daren’t refuse. No, no; not so bad as that. She wouldn’t have dared. And yet it would have been so easy while I was lying by.”

He entered the hall with curious thoughts buzzing through his brain.

“A miserable, puling, white-faced thing! Where is she? I’ll tell her to get ready. We will go to-morrow.”

He went into the drawing-room, but Claude was not there, and in an instant suspicion was master of his brain. Where was she?

He crossed the room and looked out through the open window, but no Claude. Then, hurrying to the dining-room, he saw that she was not there.

As he came out, he caught sight of a skirt just passing through a swing-door, and he dashed after it.