IN A DILEMMA.
“I am glad, at all events, to get my jewels back,” she added, as she
eyed them fondly, lifting each piece with tender, caressing fingers,
and recalling the friends who had given them to her. “But this money,
what shall I do with it? The hundred pounds rightly belongs to me,
and I shall keep it; but the other--the ‘interest,’ as he calls it--I
believe--I do not want; and as for that which he has deposited in the
Bank of England in my name, I could never touch a penny of it.”
Her eyes blazed at the thought of it, her head was thrown proudly back,
and her lips curled with derision.
The hundred-pound note she put away in her purse, the other she
returned to the envelope containing Philip’s letter, and then she
fell to musing sorrowfully, and was only aroused when Miss McAllister
returned after a long absence, during which she had been in a continual
ferment of anxiety and curiosity regarding the contents of Philip
Paxton’s package.
Arley arose as she entered, and, putting her letter into her hands,
begged her to read it.
Scarcely a sound, save the rattling of the paper, as Miss McAllister
turned the pages of Philip’s letter was heard in the room during the
next half-hour.
Miss McAllister sat bolt upright by a window, with lowering brow,
stern, relentless eyes, and firmly compressed lips.
Arley lay wearily back in her low rocker by the fire, her hands clasped
patiently in her lap, but looking very pale and sorrowful.
“Well, auntie, what do you think of it?” she questioned, when that lady
at last refolded Philip’s confession, and handed it back to her.
“That he is even a greater rascal than I believed him to be--and that
was bad enough, goodness knows!” was the grim reply.
Arley flushed.
She could think all manner of hard things of him herself, but it seemed
very harsh when put into such severe language by another.
“But he seems sorry,” she said, hesitatingly.
Miss McAllister eyed the pretty figure opposite her uneasily.
“I hope,” she said, coldly, “that you are not meditating anything so
foolish as to forgive him and take him back to your favor? I should
suppose that once having released yourself from the lion’s power, you
would not be very eager to put your head between his jaws again.”
“No; I’m afraid that I can’t forgive him, auntie----”
“Afraid!” was the startled interruption.
“Yes. You know we are commanded to ‘forgive, as we hope to be
forgiven,’” Arley murmured, in a low tone.
“Of course--of course; no Christian should cherish malice, or wish evil
to any one; but this is a peculiar case. You are not obliged to wish
for any special judgment to overtake Philip--you can simply drop him
altogether out of your life.”
“Yes; those wretched months are still too fresh in my mind to admit
of my wishing him to have any part in my future,” and Arley shivered
slightly. “But if he really feels as remorseful as his letter seems to
indicate, I would at least like to render him all the credit that is
his due.”
“Precious little due him, in my opinion,” was the severe retort, and
there the matter dropped.
Events crowded thick and fast upon the returned wanderer, for during
the next forenoon Mr. Holley, Arley’s former lawyer, was announced.
“Well, well, Mrs. Arley,” he said, jovially, as he warmly grasped her
hand, “it does my old eyes good to see you home once more. Mr. Paxton
sent me up word last night that you had returned, and as I promised to
transact a little business for him when you came, I thought I’d settle
it at once; and you may be sure I was very glad of the opportunity to
come and welcome you home.”
What could be coming now? Arley wondered, clasping her hands so tightly
that the nails left deep, purple marks upon them for long afterward.
“Mr. Paxton waited upon me some time ago,” the lawyer resumed,
“and told me that he had settled a sum upon you--twenty thousand
pounds--depositing the money in the Bank of England, and he desired
that I would take charge of it, as I had done of your money in the
past, and pay you the interest quarterly, as before. He said that he
had made this arrangement, so that you might have the same feeling of
independence that you used to have, while he wished you to be provided
for in case of any accident occurring to him. I need not tell you
that I am very proud to be restored to my old position as your man of
business, or that it is with great pleasure that I pay over this first
quarterly installment to you--Mr. Paxton notified me of your return
last night--and you may be sure that I shall make prompt payments every
quarter-day.”
Mr. Holley reached forward and slipped a roll of bills into Arley’s
hands as he ceased speaking.
She felt as if she should sink through the floor, as he crowded that
money upon her.
Her first impulse was to dash it angrily back into the man’s face and
bid him carry it back to its donor.
But, as she reasoned, he was in total ignorance of the truth of her
relations to Philip--everything that he had said went to prove it--and
if she rejected the money she would be obliged to explain why, and
reveal the whole of her dreadful story.
It was evident that Mr. Holley believed, as Sir Anthony had appeared
to do, that she and her husband were upon the most amiable terms with
each other; and it was also evident that Philip was rigidly concealing
everything which would tend to create any scandal, thus leaving her,
as he had told her in his letter that he should do, to take whatever
steps against him she might see fit.
What should she do?
That money seemed like a live coal in her hands; and she knew, with her
present feelings, that she could never use so much as a farthing of it;
and yet, if she gave it back to Mr. Holley, she must give him a reason,
and she recoiled from rehearsing her troubles to any one outside the
family.
Miss McAllister’s face had grown black with wrath over this strange
proceeding; but she was obliged to hold her tongue, knowing that any
interference on her part would be unseemly, at least in the presence of
a third person.
But the lawyer was waiting for Arley to say something, his face all
smiles and aglow with heartiest sympathy for her good fortune, as he
regarded it, and she knew that she must make him some reply.
“Really, Mr. Holley,” she began, with a crimson face, “this is a
surprise to me----”
“What! Has not your husband told you anything about it? Has he left me
to enlighten you upon the subject?” interrupted the lawyer, astonished.
Arley’s heart leaped into her throat. It was very hard to know just
what it was best to say.
“He did mention that he had deposited some money in the Bank of England
for me; but I had no idea that I was to receive such a sum as you
mention, and really,” she added, with a nervous, almost hysterical,
laugh, “I have regarded myself as portionless for so long that I fear I
shall not know how to behave, with all this wealth at my command.”
“I do not believe you will have any difficulty regarding the disposal
of it,” Miss McAllister interposed, in a dry tone.
“I am sure you deserve it all, my dear,” Mr. Holley replied, never once
suspecting the point of the venerable spinster’s remark. “There has
been a sore spot in my heart ever since your marriage that you were
obliged to relinquish that snug little income to which you had always
been accustomed, though I admire Miss Wentworth exceedingly, and I am
very happy to serve her. But I was always fond of you, Mrs. Arley, and
I am heartily glad that you are to be independent once more, while I
admire your husband for having done this thing.”
And after a few more words, Mr. Holley took his departure.
“About this money,” said Miss McAllister, quietly, “if you don’t
like to refuse to take it from Mr. Holley, you can inclose it in an
envelope and return it to Philip every quarter.”
“Yes, I could do that--at least for the present,” Arley said, with a
look of relief. “Of course, after a while, when people come to see that
we are never together, the truth will leak out, and then I can stop the
payments.”
She went at once to act upon Miss McAllister’s suggestion, and with a
hand that was far from steady, she inclosed the sum Mr. Holley had paid
her, together with the twenty-pound note Philip had already sent her as
interest on her hundred pounds, in an envelope, directed it to him at
his chambers, and sent it off at once.
That evening Sir Charles and his mother called, and were most cordially
received by Miss McAllister.
After introducing her aunt, Arley led Ina to Lady Herbert, saying
smilingly:
“This is the real Arley Wentworth, of whom I have told you, and whose
golden slippers I wore so long.”
Her ladyship studied the fair face a moment, then said, as she took the
gentle girl by the hand:
“Well, dear, since you had to give them up, I am sure you must have
been glad to resign them to one so worthy.”
“Indeed I was,” Arley replied, heartily, and then she presented Ina to
Sir Charles.
As she did so she noted the eager, admiring glance which the young
baronet bestowed upon her, and also the faint flush which stole into
the beautiful girl’s cheek, and the shy drooping of her white lids
after her first glance into his noble face.
“They will love each other,” she said to herself, with sudden
conviction; “and, oh, how well fitted they are for each other--he so
grand and true, she so gentle and lovable.”
It did, indeed, seem as if her prophecy was likely to come true, for
Sir Charles had neither eyes nor ears for any one else throughout his
call.
He hardy noticed Arley after their first greeting, until his mother
arose to go; then he seemed to suddenly remember his errand there.
“Mrs. Paxton,” he said, “I have succeeded in securing a place for your
pictures at the exhibition.”
“So soon?” cried Arley, astonished; but her face lighted with genuine
pleasure.
“It must be ‘soon’ or not at all, you know,” he returned, “for it opens
to-morrow.”
“True. I had forgotten. How do they look? Have they a good light?”
“The best that they could possibly have. I was very fortunate, and
they present a fine appearance, I assure you. An artist,” he explained,
“was expected to bring two very fine pictures from Paris, but a
telegram was received last night stating that they had been destroyed
by fire, so the places reserved for them could be given to others. I
was the first applicant this morning, and so secured the vacant space.”
“You must come and stay a month with me, dear, just as soon as your
friends can spare you,” her ladyship whispered in Arley’s ear, as she
kissed her at parting. “You have been with me so long, and I have
learned to love you so well, I miss you sadly.”
“Thank you,” Arley returned, with trembling lips. “I do not know what
would ever have become of me but for you.”
“Some other fortunate individual would have secured your companionship,
and I should have missed a great deal out of my life,” responded Lady
Herbert, cheerfully; and then, with another kiss, followed her son to
their carriage.