Mildred had now no peace; after what had happened, she could not meet
Hugh and his mother with any composure. The scheming woman had risked
everything in the appeal she made to her daughter,--risked everything,
and lost. Nothing could restore harmony; neither could forget the
struggle and live the old quiet life. Mrs. Kinloch, always pursued by
anxiety, was one day full of courage, fruitful in plans and resources,
and the next day cast down into the pit of despair. Now she clung to
her first hope, believing that time, patience, kindness, would soften
Mildred's resolution; then, seeing the blank indifference with which
she treated Hugh, she racked her invention to provide other means of
attaining her end.
Again, the thought of her inexplicable loss came over her, and she was
frightened to madness; creeping chills alternating with cold sweats
tortured her. It was a mystery she could not penetrate. She could not
but implicate Lucy: but then Lucy might be in her grave. After every
circumstance had passed in review, her suspicions inevitably returned
and fastened upon her lawyer, Clamp. She almost wished he would come
to see her again; for he, being naturally sulky at his first
reception, had left the haughty woman severely alone. She determined
to send for him, on business, and then to try her fascinations upon
him, to draw him out, and see if he held her secret.
"Aha!" thought the Squire, as he received the message, "she comes to
her senses! Give a woman like Mrs. Kinloch time enough to consider,
and she will not turn her back on her true interest. O Theophilus, you
are not by any means a fool! Slow and steady, slow and steady you go!
Let the frisky woman _appear_ to have her way,--you will win in the
end!"
The wig and best suit were brushed anew, water was brought into
requisition for the visible portions of his person, and, with his most
engaging expression arranged upon his parchment face, he presented
himself before the widow.
There was a skirmish of small talk, during which Mr. Clamp was placid
and self-conscious, while his _vis-à-vis_, though smiling and
apparently at ease, was yet alert and excited,--darting furtive
glances, that would have startled him like flashes of sunlight
reflected from a mirror, if he had not been shielded by his own
self-complacency.
"You-have-sent-for-me-on-business,-I-believe," said the lawyer, in a
tone continuous and bland as a stream of honey.
"Yes, Sir; I have great confidence in your judgment, and I know that
you are devoted to the interests of our family. My poor husband always
esteemed you highly."
"Oh, Ma'am! you do me honor!"
"If I have not consulted you about our affairs of late, it is because
I have had troubles which I did not wish to burden you with."
"We all have our troubles, Mrs. Kinloch."
"They are very sad to bear,--but profitable, nevertheless.
"But I'm sure you must be wonderfully supported in your trials; I never
saw you looking better."
And truly, her thin and mobile lips were of a strangely bright coral,
and her usually wan cheeks wore a delicate flush, lending her a
beauty, not youthful, to be sure, but yet fascinating. One might
desire to see an eye less intense and restless, but he would rarely
see a woman of forty so charming.
"You notice my color," said Mrs. Kinloch, mournfully, and with a faint
smile; "it's only the effect of a headache. I am far enough from
well."
"Indeed!" was the sympathetic reply.
"I have met with a great loss, Mr. Clamp,--some papers of the greatest
importance. I was going to consult you about them."
"In which I got ahead of you," thought he.
"Now, ever since the disappearance of Lucy, I have thought she had
something to do with them. I never went to the secretary, but she was
sure to be spying about. And I believe she knew about my affairs as
well as I do myself."
"Or I," mentally ejaculated the lawyer,--meanwhile keeping as close as
an oyster.
She continued,--"As the girl was ignorant, and without any interest in
the matter more than that of curiosity, I am puzzled to account for
all this."
"'Tis strange, truly!"
"Yes, I'm sure she must be only the tool of some shrewder person."
"You alarm me! Who can it be?"
"Perhaps Mildred, or some one who is plotting for her. The Hardwicks,
you know, expect she will marry Mark Davenport."
"Do they, indeed? Well, now, that's a shrewd conjecture. Then you
think Lucy didn't drown herself?"
"She? By no means!"
"But what can I do in the matter, Mrs. Kinloch?"
"We must find Lucy, or else discover her confidant,"--looking fixedly
at him.
"Not very easy to do," said he, never once wincing under her scrutiny.
"Not easy for me. But those that hide can find. Nothing is beyond
search, if one really tries."
During this cross-examination, Mr. Clamp's premeditated gallantry had
been kept in the background; but he was determined not to let the
present opportunity pass by; he therefore turned the current of
conversation.
"You have not told me, Mrs. Kinloch, _what_ the loss is; so I cannot
judge of its importance. You don't wish to have any more repositories
of secrets than are necessary; but I think you will readily see that
our interests lie in the same direction. If the girl can be found and
the papers recovered by anybody, I am the one to do it. If that is
impossible, however, the next thing is to be prepared for what may
happen; in either emergency, you can hardly do better than to accept
my aid."
"Of course, I depend entirely upon you."
"We may as well understand each other," said the lawyer, forgetting
the wily ways by which he had intended to approach her. "I have
certain views, myself, which I think run parallel with yours; and if I
am able to carry you and your property safely through these
difficulties, I think you will not scruple to----
"To pay you to your heart's content," she broke in, quickly. "No, I
shall not scruple, unless you ask more than half the estate."
"I ask for nothing but yourself," said he, with sudden boldness.
"That is to say, you want the whole of it."
"Charming woman! don't, pray, compel me to talk in this language of
traffic. It is you I desire,--not the estate. If there is enough to
make you more comfortable than would be possible with my means, I
shall be happy for your sake."
Her lips writhed and her eyes shot fire. Should she breathe the scorn
she felt, and brave the worst? Or should she temporize? Time might
bring about a change, when she could safely send the mercenary suitor
back to his dusty and cobwebbed office.
"We do understand each other," she said, slowly. "This is a matter to
think of. I had never thought to marry again, and I cannot answer your
delicate proposal now. Let me have a week to consider."
"Couldn't we arrange the matter just as well now? I beg your pardon,
Ma'am, if I seem too bold."
"Oh, your youthful ardor and impetuosity! To be sure, one must forgive
the impatience of a lover in his first passion! But you must wait,
nevertheless."
Mr. Clamp laughed. It was a good joke, he thought.
"I must bid you good afternoon, Squire Clamp. I have made my headache
worse by talking on a subject I was not prepared for."
So Mr. Clamp was bowed out. He did not clearly understand her quick
and subtle movements, but he felt sure of his game in the end. The
scornful irony that had played about him like electricity he had not
felt.
When he was gone, the woman's worst enemy would have pitied her
distress. She believed more than ever that Clamp had used Lucy to
abstract her papers, and that he now would hold his power over her to
bring about the hated marriage. Her firmness gave way; she sank on the
sofa and wept like a child. Would that she might yet retreat! But no,
the way is closed up behind her. She must go on to her destiny.