won't tell of you--not now, at all events; so don't look like that at
me!"
"There, Bella, that'll do," said her _fiance_, suddenly awakening to the
fact that she was trying to make herself disagreeable, and perhaps
feeling slightly ashamed of her.
"James! I know what to say and what to leave unsaid, without tellings
from you; thanks all the same. You needn't fear my saying a word about
Mr. Tweddle and Ada--la, now, if I haven't gone and said it! What a
stupid I am to run on so!"
"_Drop_ it, Bella! Do you hear? That's enough," growled Jauncy.
Leander sat silent; he did not attempt again to turn the conversation:
he knew better. Matilda seemed perfectly calm, and certainly showed no
surface curiosity; but he feared that her mother intended to require
explanations.
Miss Tweddle came in here with the original remark that winter had begun
now in good earnest.
"Yes," said Bella. "Why, as we came along, there wasn't hardly a leaf on
the trees in the squares; and yet only yesterday week, at the gardens,
the trees hadn't begun to shed. Had they, Mr. Tweddle? Oh, but I forgot;
you were so taken up with paying attention to Ada----(_Well_, James! I
suppose I can make a remark!)"
"I'll never take you out again, if you don't hold that tongue," he
whispered savagely.
Mrs. Collum fixed her eyes on Leander, as he sat cowering on her right.
"Leander Tweddle," she said, in a hissing whisper, "what is that young
person talking about? Who--who is this 'Ada'? I insist upon being
told."
"If you want to know, ask her," he retorted desperately.
All this by-play passed unnoticed by Miss Tweddle, who was probably too
full of the cares of a hostess to pay attention to it; and, accordingly,
she judged the pause that followed the fitting opportunity for a little
speech.
"Mrs. Collum, ma'am," she began; "and my dearest Miss Matilda, the
flower of all my lady lodgers; and you, Leandy; and Mr. Jauncy; and,
though last mentioned, not intentionally so, I assure you, Miss
Parkinson, my dear--I couldn't tell you how honoured I feel to see you
all sitting, so friendly and cheerful, round my humble table. I hope
this will be only the beginning of many more so; and I wish you all your
very good healths!"
"Which, if I may answer for self and present company," said Mr. Jauncy,
nobody else being able to utter a word, "we drink and reciprocate."
Leander was saved for the moment, and the dinner passed without further
incident. But his aunt's vein of sentiment had been opened, and could
not be staunched all at once; for when the cloth was removed, and the
decanters and dishes of oranges placed upon the table, she gave a little
preparatory cough and began again.
"I'm sure it isn't my wish to be ceremonial," she said; "but we're all
among friends--for I should like to look upon you as a friend, if you'll
let me," she added rather dubiously, to Bella. "And I don't really think
there could be a better occasion for a sort of little ceremony that I've
quite set my heart on. Leandy, _you_ know what I mean; and you've got it
with you, I know, because you were told to bring it with you."
"Miss Tweddle," interrupted Matilda, hurriedly, "not now. I--I don't
think Vidler has sent it back yet. I told you, you know----"
"That's all you know about it, young lady," she said, archly; "for I
stepped in there yesterday and asked him about it, to make sure, and he
told me it was delivered over the very Saturday afternoon before. So,
Leandy, oblige me for once, and put it on the dear girl's finger before
us all; you needn't be bashful with us, I'm sure, either of you."
"What is all this?" asked Mrs. Collum.
"Why, it's a ring, Mrs. Collum, ma'am, that belonged to my own dear
aunt, though she never wore it; and her grandfather had the posy
engraved on the inside of it. And I remember her telling me, before she
was taken, that she'd left it to me in her will, but I wasn't to let it
go out of the family. So I gave it to Leandy, to be his engagement ring;
but it's had to be altered, because it was ever so much too large as it
was."
"I always thought," said Mrs. Collum, "that it was the gentleman's duty
to provide the ring."
"So Leandy wanted to; but I said, 'You can pay for the altering; but I'm
fanciful about this, and I want to see dearest Miss Collum with my
aunt's ring on.'"
"Oh, but, Miss Tweddle, can't you see?" said Matilda. "He's forgotten
it; don't--don't tease him about it.... It must be for some other time,
that's all!"
"Matilda, I'm surprised at you," said her mother. "To forget such a
thing as that would be unpardonable in _any_ young man. Leander Tweddle,
you _cannot_ have forgotten it."
"No," he said, "I've not forgotten it; but--but I haven't it about me,
and I don't know as I could lay my hand on it, just at present, and
that's the truth."
"_Part_ of the truth," said Bella. "Oh, what deceitful things you men
are! Leave me alone, James; I will speak. I won't sit by and hear poor
dear Miss Collum deceived in this way. Miss Collum, ask him if that is
all he knows about it. Ask him, and see what he says."
"I'm quite satisfied with what he has chosen to say already, Miss
Parkinson; thank you," said Matilda.
"Then permit me to say, Miss Collum, that I'm truly sorry for you," said
Bella.
"If you think so, Miss Parkinson, I suppose you must say so."
"I do say it," said Bella; "for it's a sorrowful sight to see meekness
all run to poorness of spirit. You have a right to an explanation from
Mr. Tweddle there; and you would insist on it, if you wasn't afraid (and
with good reason) of the answer you'd get!"
At the beginning of this short colloquy Miss Tweddle, after growing very
red and restless for some moments, had slipped out of the room, and came
in now, trembling and out of breath, with a bonnet in her hand and a
cloak over her arm.
"Miss Parkinson," she said, speaking very rapidly, "when I asked you to
come here with my good friend and former lodger, I little thought that
anything but friendship would come of it; and sorry I am that it has
turned out otherwise. And my feelings to Mr. Jauncy are the same as
ever; but--this is your bonnet, Miss Parkinson, and your cloak. And this
is my house; and I shall be obliged if you'll kindly put on the ones,
and walk out of the other at once!"
Bella burst into tears, and demanded from Mr. Jauncy why he had brought
her there to be insulted.
"You brought it all on yourself," he said, gloomily; "you should have
behaved!"
"What have I done," cried Bella, "to be told to go, as if I wasn't fit
to stay?"
"I'll tell you what you've done," said Miss Tweddle. "You were asked
here with Mr. Jauncy to meet my dear Leandy and his young lady, and get
all four of you to know one another, and lay foundations for
Friendship's flowery bonds. And from the moment you came in, though I
paid no attention to it at first, you've done nothing but insinuate and
hint, and try all you could to set my dear Miss Collum and her ma
against my poor unoffending nephew; and I won't sit by any longer and
hear it. Put on your bonnet and cloak, Miss Parkinson, and Mr. Jauncy
(who knows I don't bear him any ill-feeling, whatever happens) will go
home with you."
"I've said nothing," repeated Bella, "but what I'd a right to say, and
what I'll stand to."
"If you don't put on those things," said Jauncy, "I shall go away
myself, and leave you to follow as best you can."
"I'm putting them on," said Bella; and her hands were unsteady with
passion as she tied her bonnet-strings. "Don't bully _me_, James,
because I won't bear it! Mr. Tweddle, if you're a man, will you sit
there and tell me you don't know that that ring is on a certain person's
finger? Will you do that?"
[Illustration: HER HANDS WERE UNSTEADY WITH PASSION AS SHE TIED HER
BONNET-STRINGS.]
The miserable man concluded that Ada had disregarded his entreaties, and
told her sister all about the ring and the accursed statue. He could not
see why the story should have so inflamed Bella; but her temper was
always uncertain.
Everybody was looking at him, and he was expected to say something. His
main idea was, that he would see how much Bella knew before committing
himself.
"What have I ever done to offend you," he asked, "that you turn on me
in this downright vixenish manner? I scorn to reply to your
insinuations!"
"Do you want me to speak out plain? James, stand away, _if_ you please.
You may all think what you choose of me. _I_ don't care! Perhaps if
_you_ were to come in and find the man who, only a week ago, had offered
marriage to your youngest sister, figuring away as engaged to quite
another lady, _you_ wouldn't be all milk and honey, either. I'm doing
right to expose him. The man who'd deceive one would deceive many, and
so you'll find, Miss Collum, little as you think it."
"That's enough," said Miss Tweddle. "It's all a mistake, I'm sure, and
you'll be sorry some day for having made it. Now go, Miss Parkinson, and
make no more mischief!"
A light had burst in upon Leander's perturbed mind. Ada had not broken
faith with him, after all. He remembered Bella's conduct during the
return from Rosherwich, and understood at last to what a mistake her
present wrath was due.
Here, at all events, was an accusation he could repel with dignity, with
truth. Foolish and unlucky he had been--and how unlucky he still hoped
Matilda might never learn--but false he was not; and she should not be
allowed to believe it.
"Miss Parkinson," he said, "I've been badgered long enough. What is it
you're trying to bring up against me about your sister Ada? Speak it
out, and I'm ready to answer you."
"Leander," said Matilda, "I don't want to hear it from her. Only you
tell me that you've been true to me, and that is quite enough."
"Matilda, you're a foolish girl, and don't know what you're talking
about," said her mother. "It is not enough for _me_; so I beg, young
woman, if you've anything to accuse the man who's to be my son-in-law
of, you'll say it now, in my presence, and let him contradict it
afterwards if he can."
"Will he contradict his knowing my sister Ada, who's one of the ladies
at Madame Chenille's, in the Edgware Road, more than a twelvemonth
since, and paying her attentions?" asked Bella.
"I don't deny," said Leander, "meeting her several times, and being
considerably struck, in a quiet way. But that was before I met Matilda."
"You had met Matilda before last Saturday, I suppose?" sneered Bella,
spitefully--"when you laid your plans to join our party to Rosherwich,
and trouble my poor sister, who'd given up thinking of you."
"There you go, Bella!" said her _fiance_. "What do you know about his
plans? He'd no idea as Ada and you was to be there; and when I told him,
as we were driving down, it was all I could do to prevent him jumping
out of the cab."
"I'm highly flattered to hear it," said Bella. "But he didn't seem to be
so afraid of Ada when they did meet; and you best know, Mr. Tweddle, the
things you said to that poor trusting girl all the time you were walking
and dancing and talking foolishness to her."
"I never said a word that couldn't have been spoke from the top of St.
Paul's," protested Leander. "I did dance with her, I own, not to seem
uncivil; but we only waltzed round twice."
"Then why did you give her a ring--an engagement ring too?" insisted
Bella.
"Who saw me give her a ring?" he demanded hotly. "Do you dare to say you
did? Did she ever tell you I gave her any ring? You _know_ she didn't!"
"If I can't trust my own ears," said Bella, "I should like to know what
I can trust. I heard you myself, in that railway carriage, ask my sister
Ada not to tell any one about some ring, and I tried to get out of Ada
afterwards what the secret was; but she wouldn't treat me as a sister,
and be open with me. But any one with eyes in their head could guess
what was between you, and all the time you an engaged man!"
"See there, now!" cried the injured hairdresser; "there's a thing to go
and make all this mischief about! Matilda, Mrs. Collum, aunt, I declare
to you I told the--the other young woman everything about my having
formed new ties and that. I was very particular not to give rise to
hopes which were only doomed to be disappointed. As to what Miss
Parkinson says she overheard, why, it's very likely I may have asked her
sister to say nothing about a ring, and I won't deny it was the very
same ring that I was to have brought here to-day; for the fact was, I
had the misfortune to lose it in those very gardens, and naturally did
not wish it talked about: and that's the truth, as I stand here. As for
giving it away, I swear I never parted with it to no mortal woman!"
"After that, Bella," observed Mr. Jauncy, "you'd better say you're sorry
you spoke, and come home with me--that's what you'd better do."
"I shall say nothing of the sort," she asserted. "I'm too much of a lady
to stay where my company is not desired, and I'm ready to go as soon as
you please. But if he was to talk his head off, he would never persuade
me (whatever he may do other parties) that he's not been playing double;
and if Ada were here you would soon see whether he would have the face
to deny it. So good-night, Miss Tweddle, and sooner or later you'll find
yourself undeceived in your precious nephew, take my word for it.
Good-night, Miss Collum, and I'm only sorry you haven't more spirit than
to put up with such treatment. James, are you going to keep me waiting
any longer?"
Mr. Jauncy, with confused apologies to the company generally, hurried
his betrothed off, in no very amiable mood, and showed his sense of her
indiscretions by indulging in some very plain speaking on their homeward
way.
As the street door shut behind them, Leander gave a deep sigh of relief.
"Matilda, my own dearest girl," he said, "now that that cockatrice has
departed, tell me, you don't doubt your Leander, do you?"
"No," said Matilda, judicially, "I don't doubt you, Leander, only I do
wish you'd been a little more open with me; you might have told me you
had gone to those gardens and lost the ring, instead of leaving me to
hear it from that girl."
"So I might, darling," he owned; "but I thought you'd disapprove."
"And if she's _my_ daughter," observed Mrs. Collum, "she _will_
disapprove."
But it was evident from Matilda's manner that the inference was
incorrect; the relief of finding Leander guiltless on the main count had
blinded her to all minor shortcomings, and he had the happiness of
knowing himself fully and freely forgiven.
If this could only have been the end! But, while he was still throbbing
with bliss, he heard a sound, at which his "bedded hair" started up and
stood on end--the ill-omened sound of a slow and heavy footfall.
"Leandy," cried his aunt, "how strange you're looking!"
"There's some one in the passage," he said, hoarsely. "I'll go and see
her. Don't any of you come out."
"Why, it's only our Jane," said his aunt; "she always treads heavy."
The steps were heard going up the stairs; then they seemed to pause
halfway, and descend again. "I'll be bound she's forgot something," said
Miss Tweddle. "I never knew such a head as that girl's;" and Leander
began to be almost reassured.
The steps were heard in the adjoining room, which was shut off by
folding doors from the one they were occupying.
"Leander," cried Matilda, "what _can_ there be to look so frightened
of?" and as she spoke there came a sounding solemn blow upon the
folding-doors.
"I never saw the lady before in all my life!" moaned the guilty man,
before the doors had time to swing back; for he knew too well who stood
behind them.
And his foreboding was justified to the full. The doors yielded to the
blow, and, opening wide, revealed the tall and commanding figure of the
goddess; her face, thanks to Leander's pigments, glowing lifelike under
her hood, and the gold ring gleaming on her outstretched hand.
"Leander," said the goddess, in her low musical accents, "come away."
"Upon my word!" cried Mrs. Collum. "_Who_ is this person?"
He could not speak. There seemed to be a hammer beating on his brain,
reducing it to a pulp.
"Perhaps," said Miss Tweddle--"perhaps, young lady, you'll explain what
you've come for?"
The statue slowly pointed to Leander. "I come for him," she said
calmly. "He has vowed himself to me; he is mine!"
Matilda, after staring, incredulous, for some moments at the intruder,
sank with a wild scream upon the sofa, and hid her face.
Leander flew to her side. "Matilda, my own," he implored, "don't be
alarmed. She won't touch _you_; it's _me_ she's come after."
Matilda rose and repulsed him with a sudden energy. "How dare you!" she
cried, hysterically. "I see it all now: the ring, the--the cloak; _she_
has had them all the time!.... Fool that I was--silly, trusting fool!"
And she broke out into violent hysterics.
"Go away at once, hypocrite!" enjoined her mother, addressing the
distracted hairdresser, as he stood, dumb and impotent, before her. "Do
you want to kill my poor child? Take yourself off!"
"For goodness' sake, go, Leandy," added his aunt. "I can't bear the
sight of you!"
"Leander, I wait," said the statue. "Come!"
He stood there a moment longer, looking blankly at the two elder women
as they bustled about the prostrate girl, and then he gave a bitter,
defiant laugh.
His fate was too strong for him. No one was in the mood to listen to any
explanation; it was all over! "I'm coming," he said to the goddess. "I
may as well; I'm not wanted here."
And, with a smothered curse, he dashed blindly from the room, and out
into the foggy street.
AN APPEAL
XII.
"If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure."
_Merchant of Venice._
Leander strode down the street in a whirl of conflicting emotions. At
the very moment when he seemed to have prevailed over Miss Parkinson's
machinations, his evil fate had stepped in and undone him for ever! What
would become of him without Matilda? As he was thinking of his gloomy
prospects, he noticed, for the first time, that the statue was keeping
step by his side, and he turned on her with smothered rage. "Well," he
began, "I hope you're satisfied?"
"Quite, Leander, quite satisfied; for have I not found you?"
"Oh, you've found me right enough," he replied, with a groan--"trust you
for that! What I should like to know is, how the dickens you did it?"
"Thus," she replied: "I awoke, and it was dark, and you were not there,
and I needed you; and I went forth, and called you by your name. And
you, now that you have hearkened to my call, you are happy, are you
not?"
"Me?" said Leander, grimly. "Oh, I'm regular jolly, I am! Haven't I
reason?"
"Your sisters seemed alarmed at my coming," she said. "Why?"
"Well," said Leander, "they aren't used to having marble goddesses
dropping in on them promiscuously."
"The youngest wept: was it because I took you from her side?"
"I shouldn't wonder," he returned gruffly. "Don't bother me!"
When they were both safely within the little upper room again, he opened
the cupboard door wide. "Now, marm," he said, in a voice which trembled
with repressed rage, "you must be tired with the exercise you've took
this evening, and I'll trouble you to walk in here."
"There are many things on which I would speak with you," she said.
"You must keep them for next time," he answered roughly. "If you can see
anything, you can see that just now I'm not in a temper for to stand it,
whatever I may be another evening."
"Why do I suffer this language from you?" she demanded
indignantly--"why?"
"If you don't go in, you'll hear language you'll like still less,
goddess or no goddess!" he said, foaming. "I mean it. I've been worked
up past all bearing, and I advise you to let me alone just now, or
you'll repent it!"
"Enough!" she said haughtily, and stalked proudly into the lonely niche,
which he closed instantly. As he did so, he noticed his Sunday papers
lying still folded on his table, and seized one eagerly.
"It may have something in it about what Jauncy was telling me of," he
said; and his search was rewarded by the following paragraph:--
"DARING CAPTURE OF BURGLARS IN BLOOMSBURY.--On the night of Friday, the
--th, Police-constable Yorke, B 954, while on duty, in the course of one
of his rounds, discovered two men, in a fainting condition and covered
with blood, which was apparently flowing from sundry wounds upon their
persons, lying against the railings of Queen Square. Being unable to
give any coherent account of themselves, and housebreaking implements
being found in their possession, they were at once removed to the Bow
Street Station, where, the charge having been entered against them, they
were recognized by a member of the force as two notorious housebreakers
who have long been 'wanted' in connection with the Camberwell burglary,
in which, as will be remembered, an officer lost his life."
The paragraph went on to give their names and sundry other details, and
concluded with a sentence which plunged Leander into fresh torments:--
"In spite of the usual caution, both prisoners insisted upon
volunteering a statement, the exact nature of which has not yet
transpired, but which is believed to have reference to another equally
mysterious outrage--the theft of the famous Venus from the Wricklesmarsh
Collection--and is understood to divert suspicion into a hitherto
unsuspected channel."
What could this mean, if not that those villains, smarting under their
second failure, had denounced him in revenge? He tried to persuade
himself that the passage would bear any other construction, but not very
successfully. "If they have brought _me_ in," he thought, and it was his
only gleam of consolation, "I should have heard of it before this."
And even this gleam vanished as a sharp knocking was heard below; and,
descending to open the door, he found his visitor to be Inspector
Bilbow.
"Evening, Tweddle," said the Inspector, quietly. "I've come to have
another little talk with you."
Leander thought he would play his part till it became quite hopeless.
"Proud to see you, Mr. Inspector," he said. "Will you walk into my
saloon? and I'll light the gas for you."
"No, don't you trouble yourself," said the terrible man. "I'll walk
upstairs where you're sitting yourself, if you've no objections."
Leander dared not make any, and he ushered the detective upstairs
accordingly.
"Ha!" said the latter, throwing a quick eye round the little room. "Nice
little crib you've got here. Keep everything you want on the premises,
eh? Find those cupboards very convenient, I dare say?"
"Very," said Leander (like the innocent Joseph Surface that he was);
"oh, very convenient, sir." He tried to keep his eyes from resting too
consciously upon the fatal door that held his secret.
"Keep your coal and your wine and spirits there?" said the detective.
(Was he watching his countenance, or not?)
"Y--yes," said Leander; "leastways, in one of them. Will you take
anything, sir?"
"Thank 'ee, Tweddle; I don't mind if I do. And what do you keep in the
other one, now?"
"The other?" said the poor man. "Oh, odd things!" (He certainly had
_one_ odd thing in it.)
After the officer had chosen and mixed his spirits and water, he began:
"Now, you know what's brought me here, don't you?"
("If he was sure, he wouldn't try to pump me," argued Leander. "I won't
throw up just yet.")
"I suppose it's the ring," he replied innocently. "You don't mean to say
you've got it back for me, Mr. Inspector? Well, I _am_ glad."
"I thought you set no particular value on the ring when I met you last?"
said the other.
"Why," said Leander, "I may have said so out of politeness, not wanting
to trouble you; but, as you said it was the statue you were after
chiefly, why, I don't mind admitting that I shall be thankful indeed to
get that ring back. And so you've brought it, have you, sir?"
He said this so naturally, having called in all his powers of
dissimulation to help him in his extremity, that the detective was
favourably impressed. He had already felt a suspicion that he had been
sent here on a fool's errand, and no one could have looked less like a
daring criminal, and the trusted confederate of still more daring
ruffians, than did Leander at that moment.
"Heard anything of Potter lately?" he asked, wishing to try the effect
of a sudden _coup_.
"I don't know the gentleman," said Leander, firmly; for, after all, he
did not.