BREATHING TIME
"I had no intention of seeing you," Lady Dashwood said. "To think that
you are the son of my dearest friend! It is well that she died before
she knew. I came here to see Mary, because I knew exactly how you had
played on her feelings. For purposes of your own, you have been diving
into the family history. Many things you have discovered, but many
things remain a secret to this day. Clever as you are, you have no
inkling of the shameful truth. If I chose to speak now, I could
disperse several of your pleasant dreams. I took an oath by the
bedside of a dying man to say nothing, and I have regretted my promise
ever since. A promise like that is a sacred thing; to break it is a
deadly sin. Yet there are some promises that God never intends one to
keep. Mine is one of them. So long as I alone suffer, it matters
little. But when others are to suffer for my silence, others whom I
love more than I love myself, then it is time to break the vow and let
the world know everything. By my silence I doom yonder beloved child
to lifelong misery. If you cared for her----"
"Pardon me," Mayfield interrupted, "that is what I am trying to prove.
My methods may not commend themselves to you, but I hold that
everything is fair in love and----"
"Hold," Lady Dashwood cried; "you pollute the word with your tongue.
What can you know of love in its better and higher sense? Would you be
standing here tonight if Mary were a pauper instead of heiress to
Dashwood Hall?"
Mayfield had no reply for the moment. Clever man of the world as he
was, the question found him dumb. He could only fall back on the
commonplace.
"Why put an impossible case?" he asked. "If it comes to that,
why are you here at all? Miss Mary and myself have come to an
understanding--the understanding will be complete as soon as I have
dispatched this telegram. We are going to stifle the voice of scandal
between us. Where is the young footman who was going to take the
message to Longtown?"
"The message is not going to Longtown," Lady Dashwood whispered
hoarsely. "I can guess what that message means to my beloved child.
Mary, fetch your father here. The hour has come when God tells me that
I may break my word and speak."
The flimsy telegram form crumpled in Mayfield's grip. His face had
turned deadly white with baffled fury. He fought down the anger in his
heart and forced a smile to his lips.
"I am afraid we are all going too far," he said. "Let us wait till the
morning. Lady Dashwood gives me no credit for magnanimity, I know. I
am going to prove that she wrongs me. After all, I have other
resources. There are other ways than this."
He tore up the telegram deliberately, and dropped the fragments on the
terrace. He must conciliate the old woman at any cost. It would not be
difficult, once she had gone, to get Mary to pledge her word. Deep
down in his heart, Mayfield was angrily wondering what secret Lady
Dashwood had to disclose. He could tell by the expression of her face
that it was something dramatic. He turned to Mary who was regarding
the fragments of the telegram with anxious eyes.
"I am afraid I do not understand," she said, "I am so worn out and
tired that my brain seems incapable of grasping anything. I thought
that that telegram was going to be the means of removing those men and
averting scandal. If there is any other way of saving our house from
such a calamity----"
"That can be managed," Mayfield smiled, "nothing easier. Come with me
a moment and I will show you how it is done. Perhaps Lady Dashwood
would also like to see----"
"No, I am quite satisfied for the present," Lady Dashwood said coldly.
"Thank God, I have been able to save the situation. I understand that
you are staying at Swainson's Farm for tonight. As the farm is on my
way home, I shall be glad of your company so far, as there is
something that I wish to say to you. I will wait for you at the bottom
of the rose garden. Come along, Patience."
The old bent woman muttered something and shook her head. She stood
there with her cunning, beady eyes fixed on the noble façade of the
old house. There broke from her a dry chuckle, as if her inmost
thoughts were not displeasing.
"You let me alone, my lady," she said. "It isn't often as my mind is
as clear and bright as it is tonight. And don't you worry about Miss
Mary. I'm an old woman, and I'm not good for much, but I can prevent
that."
A haggard, shaking hand was pointed to the entrance of the
drawing-room where Mary's figure stood out under the soft light of the
shaded lamps. Then Patience turned away and plunged into the bushes.
Again and again Lady Dashwood called softly, but no answer came. It
was peaceful and silent once more under the light of the waning moon.
Mary had passed back into the drawing-room with Mayfield. The girl's
head was in a whirl. At the same time she could not forget Lady
Dashwood's warning and the strange hints she had dropped. Mayfield had
been impressed also, or he would not have been in such haste to tear
up the telegram. Why was he afraid of Lady Dashwood? How could he tell
that there was something under the surface?
"Perhaps you had better explain to me," the girl said. "The events of
the past hour have puzzled me. You went to the library to procure a
telegram form. You were going to send a message to your solicitor
asking him to be here in the morning with authority to remove those
men. As they are your creatures, is it not possible for you to get rid
of them?"
"No," Mayfield explained, "these people represent the sheriff. My
solicitor is acting for me in the matter, and there would be certain
formalities to go through before I could take matters out of his
hands. But there are ways of keeping such matters quiet that you
little dream of. . . . Wake up."
The snoring creature on the yellow cushions turned over uneasily at a
vigorous application of Mayfield's foot and opened his eyes. He sat up
presently and demanded to know why he had been interfered with. There
was no civility in the man's manner; he evidently had no sympathy with
misfortune.
"Speak in a proper manner," Mayfield said sternly. "I happen to know
that you will be out of this house in a few hours. There is nothing to
grin about, fellow. I suppose that you would not have the slightest
objection to earning £5?"
"So long as it's all right, mister," the other growled, "but if you've
got some little game on and think that you are going to get me out of
the house----"
"Nothing of the kind. Do I look like that kind of person?"
"Never can tell, mister. I've had the dodge tried on with me by them
what has handles to their names. Still, there is no objection to
hearing what you've got to say."
"That is very nice and obliging of you," Mayfield said grimly. "I am
going to make no effort to undermine your virtue. We do not want the
servants to know who you are or what you are doing. There's £5 cash
for you if you can manage this. I'm told it is often done. What do you
suggest?"
As he spoke, Mayfield played thoughtfully with some sovereigns. The
big man grinned.
"Now you are speaking fair," he said. "If people meet us all right and
don't regard us as convicts or bushrangers, why, we can meet other
people. The three of us have been in many a good house together. The
last time we came down to go over the place to give a proper estimate
for electric light. You've only got to look wise and potter about with
a foot rule and a notebook, and there you are! We can pretend to be
measuring outside when the servants come down in the morning, and I
daresay Sir George can arrange for our food to be given us somewhere
handy. Bless your life, there's many a way of doing it, if you'll give
me the brass for the other two chaps and settle it at once."
Mayfield handed over a little pile of sovereigns and the man shuffled
off in the direction of the kitchen. Mayfield smiled at the success of
his errand.
"There," he said; "I fancy that is all right. Only you must tell Sir
George exactly what has happened so that there is no confusion in the
morning. Sir George is thinking of having the electric light
installed. The men are here to take measurements. They will keep the
joke to themselves. You ought to be very much obliged to me."
But no protestation of gratitude came from Mary's lips. The light of a
great scorn was still in her eyes.
"Lies and prevarication and deceit," she said. "I seem to have found
myself in a very network of falsehood. The poorest girl on the estate
is happier than I am. It may be as you say, it may be that we shall
escape the tongue of scandal. But what are you going to do--how long
is the deception to go on?"
"That depends on yourself," Mayfield said coolly. "You can defy me if
you like, and take the consequences. But it shall not be said that I
have treated you unfairly. That is why I am giving you another night
to think the matter over. Now go and tell Sir George what has
happened."
Mary turned on her heel and left the room without another word. There
was a sinister smile on Mayfield's lips as he watched the girl's
drooping figure.
"The thing will pass as far as she is concerned," he muttered. "And
now to tackle Lady Dashwood and have matters out with her."