"My Dally" had been otherwise employed, for a messenger had come over
from the Hall to see the curate; and at the time her grandfather was
departing, Dally was cross-examining the good-tempered, loutish youth
respecting his master, and getting out of him all she could glean.
"Job is having it this morning," said Salis, for he heard a familiar
step in the passage, as soon as the sexton had gone. "What now, Dally?
No more bad news?"
"Bad news, sir?" said the girl, speaking to her master, and gazing at
Leo, who did not look up. "I don't think so, sir. It's the young man
from Candlish Hall, sir, to see you partikler."
"I knew it," cried Salis to Mary, as Leo bent lower. "Candlish has sent
word that he cannot come. Now, how the de--"
"Hartley!"
"Well, it's enough to make a saint swear. How can a man carry on his
parish work like this? I wish to goodness May had it to do himself.
Show him in, Dally."
The girl departed, and returned directly with the servant from the Hall,
who looked stealthily at Salis, and then from Leo to Mary and back.
"Can I speak to you alone, sir?" he said.
"Yes, yes, my man, certainly. Is it anything serious?"
"Yes, sir--very, sir. I've come--"
"Here, this way, to my study, my man," said Salis, rising.
"Stop!"
Salis had reached the door--his hand was on the knob, and he was about
to turn it; but the sharp, commanding voice made him turn in
astonishment, to see Leo standing erect, with her head thrown back, her
eyes flashing, and her hand resting upon the book--closed now--and one
finger shut in to mark the place.
"Leo!"
"Yes; I said `stop.' We are not children," she cried, in an imperative
voice. "Let the man speak here."
"It was about Sir Thomas, ma'am--my master," faltered the man, before
Salis had recovered from his astonishment. "An accident."
"An accident?" cried Leo, as Salis stepped to her side, and laid his
hand upon her arm; but she shrank away. "Well, sir, why do you not
speak?"
"Am I to speak, sir?" faltered the man.
"Yes; speak out," said Salis quietly.
"My master did not come home last night, sir--I mean this morning. He
often goes out of a night, sir, very late; but he always comes in at
daybreak. I've seen him dozens of times."
"Yes; go on," said Leo harshly.
"He didn't come back, miss--ma'am; and I was thinking about it when I
went to the stables and took his mare and the pad-horse out for
exercise."
"Speak more quickly, man," said Leo imperiously.
"Yes, ma'am. We'd got down nearly to the ford, when the mare--master's
mare, ma'am--shied at something, and nearly threw me."
"The mare shied?" said Leo, with her eyes dilating.
"Yes, ma'am; and I saw it was at master lying there by the side of the
road."
"Dead?"
"No, ma'am, but very bad. His head was--"
"Hush!" said Salis, interrupting sternly. "No particulars, my man; only
answer me this--was it a fall?"
"Oh, no, sir! some one had been beating him about the head with a stick,
I should say."
"Had he been robbed?"
"Oh, no, sir! His watch and chain and pin were all right."
"Was he insensible?" continued Salis.
"Yes, sir; quite, sir; and seemed to have been staggering about the
road, trying to get home, for there was bl--"
"Hush, man! Only answer my questions," cried Salis hastily. "You got
him home?"
"Yes, sir," said the man, who could not keep his eyes off Leo, who was
gazing at him wildly--in a way which taught her brother that the old
love for Tom Candlish was far from dead.
"And then--"
"And then, sir, as soon as we'd got him on his bed, I galloped off for
Dr North, sir."
"Yes."
"But he's ill, sir, and the housekeeper said he couldn't come to the
Hall."
"Well?"
"I hardly knew what to do, then, sir; but as I was wondering what was
best, Joe Chegg come up, sir--he used to be a groom, you know--and I
jumped off the mare, and made him get up and go off to King's Hampton to
fetch Dr Benson, while I came on to you."
"Quite right," said Salis. "I'll come on with you directly. Mary, my
dear, send a line to Moredock to say that there will be no vestry
meeting. Yes? You were going to speak, Leo."
She shook her head, and half closed her eyes, as she turned away,
shivering at the feeling of vindictive rage which ran through her, as in
imagination she seemed to see the result of the encounter which had
taken place, and that it was Tom Candlish who had fared by far the
worse.
Salis's countenance grew more stern, as he leaned over to Mary, and
stooped over to say a few words in her ear.
"Try and keep her by your side. We must have no foolish excitement
now."
"I will try," said Mary gently; and she looked up to see that Leo was
watching them both inquiringly, her face contracted, and a singular look
in her eyes.
For she was wondering what would be the result of her brother's meeting
with the young squire; and then as she drew her breath painfully, the
thoughts of self and the dread of detection gave place to feelings of
horror respecting the man she loved, and of hate, the most bitter and
intense, against North, whom she now longed to meet that she might
revile him--heap upon his head her bitterness and contempt.
"It's scared us, sir, horrible," said the man as he walked back with
Salis.
"Have you any idea who attacked your master?" said Salis.
"Not a bit, sir. That's the puzzle of it. If it had been for his
money, they'd have taken it all, and his watch. We can't understand it
a bit."
"I can," said Salis to himself. "The scoundrel has been insulting some
one's child, or sweetheart, or wife, and been half killed for his pains.
I wonder who was the guilty party? Well I know that," he muttered with
a half laugh--"Tom Candlish."
"Yes, sir; beg pardon, sir."
"What for, my man?" said Salis, feeling a little disconcerted.
"I thought you laughed, sir, and said something."
"No, no, my man; only a way of mine."
They walked on in silence after this, Salis feeling very sore at heart
as he thought of his sister, and how painful it was that she should
still care, as she evidently did, for such a worthless scoundrel.
"Even the knowledge of this new escapade would not move her, I'm
afraid," he muttered. "Well, matters like this must settle themselves."
They now reached the Hall, to find the servants assembled, and in a
state of the most intense excitement.
"Master was no worse," the old butler said. "He had been asking for
brandy."
"What? You did not give it to him?" cried Salis excitedly.
"I was obliged to, sir. You can't know Sir Thomas, or you wouldn't talk
like that. But I'm very glad you've come, sir.--It's such a
responsibility, having him so bad. He's terribly cut about, sir.
Please come in and see if you can do anything more than I have till the
doctor comes."
Salis followed the old butler up to the bedroom, where Tom Candlish lay
upon the bed, and, as the butler said, terribly cut about the head; for,
in addition to the bruises upon his head and temple, he had a cut lip,
and the very perfection of two black eyes.
"I don't think you need be alarmed," whispered Salis to the old man, as
the door was opened, and the young squire saluted the butler with a
volley of good stable oaths.
What the something unmentionable did he mean by bringing the parson? he
raved.
"Do you think I'm going to die, and want to be prayed for? Send for a
doctor."
"I did, Sir Thomas," said the butler deprecatingly; "but Dr North--"
"Curse Dr North!" roared the young man. "Send for Dr Benson."
"I have, Sir Thomas, and--"
"Be off, you old idiot! And you, Salis, you'd better go too, or I may
say something to you that you will not like."
"You can say what you please, my good fellow," said Salis, coolly taking
off his coat for the second time in the young man's presence.
"You coward," groaned the injured man; "and when I'm like that. Your
cursed sister--"
"Silence, you scoundrel!" roared Salis. "Here, fetch water in a basin,
sponges, towels, and linen that I can cut up," he continued to the
butler, who gladly hurried out of the room. "And you, Candlish, unless
you wish to rage yourself into a fever, be quiet; but I warn you that if
you mention my sister again, sick or well, I will not be answerable for
the consequences."
"What are you going to do?" growled the young man suspiciously.
"Do, sir? What I would do for any other dog that I saw lying wounded in
the road. I'm going to doctor you till proper qualified assistance
comes."
"He doesn't know," thought Tom Candlish. Then aloud: "I thought you
were going to take a mean advantage of me now I was down."
"You thought I was just such a cowardly, mean-spirited brute as you are,
and as treacherous, eh?" said Salis bitterly, as he rapidly removed the
clumsy bandage about the young man's head. "Why, hallo! what does this
mean?"
"What does what mean?"
"Your head. It has been bandaged."
"Yes; that old idiot of a butler did it."
"No; I mean this other. It has been properly strapped up."
"Has it?"
"Yes," said Salis. "The old man knows more about it than you think for.
There, lie still."
"Who's to lie still with his head on fire?" growled the injured man.
"Here, ring for some brandy."
"You mean for the undertaker," said Salis coolly.
"No; the brandy," snarled Tom Candlish. "I'm sick and faint."
"And you'll be more sick and more faint if you take spirits now. There,
lie still, and I'll try and cool your head with this sponge and water."
For the butler had re-entered, and for the next half hour the curious
spectacle was visible of Hartley Salis playing the good Samaritan, with
all the knowledge of experience, to the man who was doing his best to
bring ruin and misery upon his peaceful home.
The delicate, almost feminine touch, soothed the pain Tom Candlish
suffered; and he lay quietly upon the pillow, looking up at the curate,
wondering whether he would do this if he knew all, and what he would say
if he knew that he had deluded Leo into leaving her room night after
night, to grant him meetings in the old vestry time after time, in spite
of all that had been said.
The butler had gone, and Tom Candlish was lying with his eyes half
closed, thinking about his last meeting with Leo, of the coming of the
doctor, of their encounter, and of the way in which he had been struck
down, when just after Salis had carefully laid a cool, moist towel upon
his aching head, the door softly opened, and the baronet started up in
bed with his ghastly face distorted as he uttered quite a yell.
"Ah, Horace, old fellow!" cried the curate excitedly. "I have been
reproaching myself for not coming down to you. Here is my excuse. I'm
so glad you've come."
"Keep him off! Send him away!" yelled Tom Candlish, trying vainly to
get to the other side of the bed, as North stood pale, choking, and
suffering in the doorway.
"Don't take any notice," continued Salis; "a bit delirious, I'm afraid;"
and then he gazed wonderingly at his friend as, with a fierce,
implacable look, North strode up to the bed.
Volume 2, Chapter XIX.