"Quite out of the question," said James Thickens.
"But what is there to fear?"
"I don't know that there is anything to fear," said Thickens dryly.
"What I know is this, and I've thought it over. You are not going up to
town with him, but by yourself, to get this money--if you still mean
it."
"I still mean it! There, go on."
"Well, you will go up, and sign what you have to sign, get this money in
notes, and bring it down yourself."
"But Hallam will think it so strange--that I mistrust him."
"Of course he will. So you do; so do I. And after thinking this matter
over, I am going to have that money deposited here, and I'm going to
redeem the bonds and deeds myself, getting all information from Hallam."
"But this will be a hard and rather public proceeding."
"I don't know about hard, and as to public, no one will know about it
but we three, for old Gemp will not smell it out. He is down with the
effects of a bad seizure, and not likely to leave his bed for days."
"But, Thickens--"
"Mr Bayle, I am more of a business man than you, so trust me. You are
making sacrifice enough, and are not called upon to study the feelings
of one of the greatest scoundrels--"
"Oh! hush! hush!"
"I say it again, sir--one of the greatest scoundrels that ever drew
breath."
Bayle frowned, and drew his own hard.
"I don't know," he said, "that I shall care to carry this money--so
large a sum."
"Nonsense, sir, a packet of notes in a pocket-book. These things are
comparative. When I was a boy I can remember thinking ninepence a large
amount; now I stand on a market day shovelling out gold and fingering
over greasy notes and cheques, till I don't seem to know what a large
sum is. You take my advice, go and get it without saying a word to
Hallam; and I tell you what it is, sir, if it wasn't for poor Mrs
Hallam and that poor child, I should be off my bargain, and go to Sir
Gordon at once."
"I will go and get the money without Hallam, Thickens; but as I
undertook to go with him, I shall write and tell him I have gone."
"Very well, sir, very well. As you please," said Thickens; "I should
not: but you are a clergyman, and more particular about such things than
I am."
Bayle smiled, and shook hands, leaving Thickens looking after him
intently as he walked down the street.
"He wouldn't dare!" said Thickens to himself thoughtfully. "He would
not dare. I wish he had not been going to tell him, though. Humph!
dropping in to see poor old Gemp because he has had a fit."
He paused till he had seen Bayle enter the old man's house, and then
went on muttering to himself.
"I never could understand why Gemp was made; he never seems to have been
of the least use in the world, though, for the matter of that, idlers
don't seem much good. Hah! If Gemp knew what I know, there'd be a
crowd round the bank in half-an-hour, and they'd have Hallam's house
turned inside out in another quarter. I don't like his telling Hallam
about his going," he mused. "It's a large sum of money, though I made
light of it, and the mail's safe enough. We've about got by the old
highwayman days, but I wish he hadn't told him, all the same."
Meanwhile the curate had turned in at Gemp's to see how the old fellow
was getting on.
"Nicedly, sir, very nicedly," said the woman in charge; "he've had a
beautiful sleep, and Doctor Luttrell says he be coming round to his
senses fast."
Poor old Gemp did not look as if he had been progressing nicely, but he
seemed to recognise his visitor, and appeared to understand a few of his
words.
But not many, for the old man kept putting his hand to his head and
looking at the door, gazing wistfully through the window, and then
heaving a heavy sigh.
"Oh, don't you take no notice o' that, sir," said the woman; "that be
only his way. He's been used to trotting about so much that he feels it
a deal when he is laid up, poor old gentleman; he keeps talking about
his money, too, sir. Ah, sir, it be strange how old folks do talk about
their bit o' money when they're getting anigh the time when they won't
want any of it more."
And so on till the curate rose and left the cottage.
That night he was on his way to London, after sending a line to Hallam
to say that upon second thoughts he had considered it better to go up to
town alone.
Three days passed with nothing more exciting than a few inquiries after
Hallam's health, the most assiduous inquirer being Miss Heathery, who
called again on the third evening.
"I know you think me a very silly little woman, Millicent, my dear, and
I'm afraid that perhaps I am, but I do like you, and I should like to
help you now you are in trouble."
"I always did, and always shall, think you one of my best and kindest
friends, Miss Heathery," replied Millicent, kissing her.
"Now, that's very kind of you, my dear. It's touching," said Miss
Heathery, wiping her eyes. "You do think me then a very dear friend?"
she said, clinging to Mrs Hallam, and gazing plaintively in her face.
"Indeed I do."
"Then may I make a confidant like of you, dear?"
"Yes, certainly," said Millicent.
"But first of all, can I help you nurse Mr Hallam, or take care of
Julie?"
"Oh, no, thank you. Mr Hallam is much better, and Julie is happiest
with Thisbe."
"Or Mr Bayle," said Miss Heathery; "but I have not seen her with him
lately. Oh, I forgot, he has gone to London."
"Indeed!" said Millicent, starting, for she connected his absence with
her husband's trouble.
"Yes; gone two, three days; but, Millicent dear, may I speak to you
plainly?"
"Of course. Tell me," said Millicent smiling, and feeling amused as she
anticipated some confidence respecting an engagement.
"And you are sure you will not feel hurt?"
"Trust me, I shall not," said Millicent, with her old grave smile.
"Well then, my dear," whispered the visitor, "it is about money matters.
You know I have none in the bank now, because I bought a couple of
houses, but I have been asking, and I find that I can borrow some money
on the security, and I thought--there! I knew you would feel hurt."
For Millicent's eyes had begun to dilate, and she drew back from her
visitor.
"I only meant to say that I could not help knowing you--that Mr Hallam
kept you--oh! I don't know how to say it, Millicent dear, but--but if
you would borrow some money of me, dear, it would make me so very
happy."
The tears sprang to Millicent's eyes as she rose and kissed her visitor.
"Thank you, dear Miss Heathery," she cried. "I shall never forget this
unassuming kindness, but it is impossible that I can take your help."
"Oh, dear me! I was afraid you would say so, and yet it is so sad to
run short. Couldn't you really let me help you, my dear?"
"No, it is impossible," said Millicent, smiling gently. "Is it quite
impossible?" said Miss Heathery.
"Yes, dear; but believe me, if I were really in great need I would come
to you for help."
"You promise me that, dear?" cried the little woman, rising.
"I promise you that," said Millicent, and her visitor went away
overjoyed.