Rolph dined at Brackley that evening, and found Sir John in the best of
spirits. Glynne was bright and eager to show him the progress she had
made with her painting, at the sight of which he started as they stood
together in the drawing-room.
"But I say, Glynne, you know, this is doosid clever and ought to go to
the Academy; only, hang it all! you mustn't get painting fellows like
that."
"Why not?"
"Because--because--well, you see the fellow's a regular scamp--dangerous
sort of a character, you know--been in prison for poaching, and that
sort of thing."
"But he's such a patient model."
"Model, eh? Not my idea of a model. Look here, if you want some one to
sit, you shall have me."
The conversation changed to the visit she had received that afternoon;
and Glynne in her new excitement was rapturous about "dear Mrs Rolph,"
but rather lukewarm about her niece, and Rolph noticed it.
"Madge nice to you?" he said.
"Your cousin? Oh, yes," replied Glynne, thoughtfully. "She seemed
rather shy and strange at first, but soon got over that. We have always
been a little distant, for I think I was too quiet for her; but of
course we shall be like sisters now."
"H'm, yes, I suppose so. But Madge is rather a strange girl."
The dinner passed off pretty well. Rolph drinking a good deal of the
baronet's favourite claret, and every now and then finding the major's
eyes fixed upon him in rather a searching way which he did not like; but
on the whole, Major Day was pleasant and gentlemanly, and rather given
to sigh on seeing how happy and bright his niece looked. When at last
she rose during dessert, and Rolph opened the door for her to pass out
to the drawing-room, he was obliged to own that they would make a
handsome couple, and on seeing his brother's inquiring glance, he nodded
back to him, making Sir John look pleased.
"I've no right to object if they are satisfied," he said to himself;
"but he is not the fellow I should have chosen."
All the same, he shook hands warmly enough when Rolph left that night.
"Jack," he said, as he sat with his brother over their last cigar, "I
think I may as well get married now."
"You think what!" cried Sir John dropping his cigar.
"I think I shall get married. I mean, when Glynne has gone."
"I should like to catch you at it!" growled Sir John. "When Glynne goes
you've got to stop with me."
"Ah, well we shall see," said the major, whose eyes were fixed on the
dark corner of the smoking-room, where he could see a fir glade with a
pretty, bright little figure stooping over a ring of dark-coloured
fungi--"we shall see. Glynne isn't married yet."
The next morning, soon after breakfast, Rolph started off for a run, for
he was training for an event, he said, the run taking him in the
direction of the preserves about an hour later.
He had gone for some distance along the path, but he leaped over a fence
now and began to thread his way through a pine wood, where every step
was over the thick grey needles; and as he walked he from time to time
kicked over one of the bright red or speckled grey fungi which grew
beneath the trees.
He had about half a mile to go through this wood; the birch plantation
and the low copse, and then through the grove in one of the openings of
which, and surrounded by firs, stood the keeper's cottage.
He pressed on through the fir wood, then across the birch plantation,
where the partridges loved to hide, and the copse where the poachers
knew the pheasants roosted on the uncut trees at the edge, but dared not
go, because it was so near the keeper's cottage.
Then on to Thoreby Wood, in and out among the bronze-red fir-tree
trunks, under the dark green boughs, where the wind was always moaning,
as if the sea shore was nigh, and the bed of needles silenced his
footfalls, for the way was easy now. In another minute he would be out
of the clearing, close to the cottage--at the back.
"Why, there she is," he said to himself, with his heart giving a throb
of satisfaction, as he saw before him a girl standing where the sun
shone down through the opening where the cottage stood, and half threw
up the figure as it rested one hand upon a tree trunk and leaned forward
as if gazing out from the edge of the wood at something in the opening
beyond.
Rolph stopped short, to stand gazing at her admiringly.
"What is she watching?" he said to himself, then, smiling as the
explanation came.
"Been feeding the pheasants," he thought. "She has thrown them some
grain, and they have come out by the cottage."
"Yes," he continued, "she is watching them feed, and is standing back so
as not to scare them. Poor beggars! what a shame it seems to go and
murder them after they have been reared at home and fed like this."
He hesitated for a few moments, and then began to walk swiftly on, with
hushed footsteps, toward where the figure stood, a hundred yards away.
When he saw her first, he was able to gaze down a narrow lane of trees,
but a deep gully ran along there, necessitating his diverging from that
part, and going in and out among the tall trunks, sometimes catching a
glimpse of the watcher, sometimes for her to be hidden from his sight.
And so it was that when at last he came out suddenly, he was not five
yards behind her, but unheard. He stopped short, startled and
astonished. For it was not Judith who stood watching there so intently.
Madge! there!
At that moment, as if she were impressed by his presence, Marjorie Emlin
rose partly erect, drawing back out of the sunshine, and quite
involuntarily turning to gaze full in Rolph's face, her own fixed in its
expression of malignant joy, as if she had just seen something which had
given her the most profound satisfaction. She was laughing, her lips
drawn away from her teeth, and her eyes, in the semi-darkness of the fir
wood, dilated and glowing with a strange light.
For a moment or two she gazed straight at Rolph, seeing him, but not
seeming to realise his presence. Then there was a rapid change of her
expression, the malignant look of joy became one of shame, fear, and the
horror of being surprised.
"You here, Madge!" he said at last, in a hoarse whisper lest Judith
should know that she was being watched. "What does this mean?"
She looked at him wildly, and began to creep away, as one might from
some creature which fascinated and yet filled with fear.
She was still shrinking away, but he had caught her wrist and held it
firmly as she glared at him, till, with a sudden effort, she tried to
wrest herself away.
There was no struggle, for he suddenly cast her away from him, realising
in an instant the reason of her presence and of this malignant look of
satisfaction, for, as Madge darted away, he rushed into the opening
where the cottage stood, in response to a wild cry for help.
He reached the porch in time to catch Judith on his arm, as she was
running from the place, and receive Caleb Kent who was in full pursuit,
with his right fist thrown out with all his might.
The impact of two bodies at speed is tremendous, and scientific people
of a mathematical turn assure us that when such bodies do meet they fly
off at a tangent.
They may have done so here, but, according to matter-of-fact notions,
Rolph's fist and arm flew round Judith afterwards, to help the other
hold her trembling and throbbing to his heart; while Caleb Kent's head
went down with a heavy, resounding bump on the tiled floor of the little
entry.
Then Judith shrank away, and Rolph in his rage planted his foot on Caleb
Kent's chest, as the fellow lay back, apparently stunned.
But there was a good deal of the wild beast about Caleb Kent. He lay
still for a few moments, and then, quick and active as a cat, he twisted
himself sidewise and sprang up, his mouth cut and bleeding, his features
distorted with passion; and, starting back, he snatched a long knife
from his pocket, threw open the blade, and made a spring at Rolph.
Judith uttered a cry of horror, but there was no occasion for her dread,
for, quick in his action as the young poacher, Rolph struck up the
attacking arm, and the next moment Caleb Kent was outside, with his
opponent following him watchfully.
"Keep of!" snarled Caleb, "or I'll have your blood. All right: I see;
but never mind, my turn will come yet. If I wait for years, I'll make
this straight."
And then as Rolph made a rush at him, he dodged aside and darted into
the fir wood, running so swiftly that his adversary felt it would be
useless to pursue.
Neither did he wish to, for Judith was standing there by the porch,
looking wild-eyed and ghastly.
"You--you are hurt," she faltered.
"Hurt!" he cried, as he clasped her once more in his arms. "No, no,
tell me about yourself. Curse him! what did he say?"
"I was alone here and busy when he came. He has followed me about from
a child and frightened me. To-day he walked straight in and roughly
told me that he loved me, and that I must be his wife."
She shuddered.
"The insolent gaol-bird!"
"He frightened me, though I tried very hard to be firm, and ordered him
to leave the place; but he only laughed at me, and caught me in his
arms, and tried to kiss me. I was struggling with him for a long time,
and no help seemed to be coming. I screamed out, and that frightened
him, and he left me; but, before I could fasten the door, he came back
and spoke gently to me, but when I would not listen to him, he tried to
seize me again, and I cried for help, and you--"
She did not shrink this time, as, throbbing with passion, and uttering
threats against the scoundrel, Rolph once more folded her in his arms.
Again she struggled from him, trembling.
"I am not doing right," she said firmly. "If you love me, Rob--"
"If I love you!" he said reproachfully.
"I am sure you have pity for me," she said, taking his hand and raising
it to her lips, to utter a cry of horror, for the hand was bleeding
freely, and the ruddy current dyed her lips.
"Hurt in my defence," she said with a pained smile, as she bound her own
handkerchief about the bleeding knuckles.
"I'd die in your defence," he whispered passionately; "your protector
always, dearest."
"Then protect me now," she said, "that I am weak, and let me trust in
you. You wish me to be your wife, Robert?"
"Eh? Yes, of course, of course," he said hurriedly.
"And you won't let your mother sending me away make any difference?"
"How could it, little stupid! I'm not a boy," he said, banteringly.
"But I must go now, and, as for Master Caleb Kent, I'll just set the
policeman on his track."
"But that will mean his being taken before the magistrates, Rob."
"Yes, and a long spell for him this time, or I'll know the reason why."
"No, no," cried the girl, hurriedly. "You mustn't do that."
"Why?"
"Because he hates you enough as it is. He said he'd kill you."
"Will he?" muttered Rolph, between his teeth.
"And I should have to go before the magistrates as a witness; and
there's no knowing what Caleb might say."
Rolph looked at her searchingly, while she clung to him till he promised
to let the matter rest.
"But suppose he comes again?"
"Father will take care of that," she said confidently. "But do mind
yourself as you go. Caleb may be hiding, and waiting for you."
"To come back here," he said sharply.
"If he does, he'll find the door locked," said Judith quietly. "Must
you go now?"
"Yes: your father may come back."
"But that doesn't matter now, Rob, does it? Why not tell him we're
engaged?"
"No, no: not yet. Leave that to me. Good-bye, now."
He drew the clinging arms from about his neck rather roughly, gave the
girl's lips a hasty kiss, and hurried out and across the clearing,
turning back twice as he went to see Judith looking after him, with her
face shadowed by tears, and then, as their eyes encountered, beaming
with sunshine. And again, after he had passed out of sight, he stole
back through the trees to find that she was still wistfully gazing at
the spot where she saw him last.
And, as unseen he watched her, his thoughts were many upon her
unprotected state, and as to whether he ought not to stay until her
father's return.
"No," he said, "the beggar will not dare to come back!" and, after
making a circuit of the place, and searching in all directions, he
walked thoughtfully away, thinking of what must be done with regard to
Caleb Kent, and then about his cousin, against whom his indignation grew
hotter the more he thought of what he had seen.
"She must have known that Caleb was in the cottage insulting Judith, and
she was glorying in it and would not stir a step to save her, when her
presence would have been enough to drive the beggar away. Oh, it seems
impossible that a woman could be so spiteful. Hang it! Madge has got
hold of that now. It's like being at her mercy. Phew! I'm getting
myself in a devil of a mess. I meant to fight shy of her now
altogether, but of course no fellow could help running to save a woman
in distress."
He stopped short, for a sudden thought struck him.
"Then Judy hasn't heard about Glynne yet. Confound it all! what a
tangle I'm getting in."
He took out and lit a cigar. Then smoking rapidly, he felt better.
"All right," he muttered; "the old woman sets that square, and the
sooner they're off the estate the better for everybody. But there's no
mistake about it, Judy is deuced nice after all."
"Day, sir," said a sharp voice, and Rolph started round to find himself
face to face with Hayle.
"Ah, Ben!--you!"
"Yes, sir, me it is," said the keeper, sternly. "Down, dogs!"
This to the animals which began to play about the captain.
"Oh, let 'em be," said Rolph, patting one of the setters on the head.
"Never mind the dogs, sir. I've got something more serious to think
about. I suppose you know as the missus has sacked me, and we're off?"
"Yes, Ben, I know; but it was no doing of mine."
"I never thought it was, sir; but me and Judy's to go at once--anywhere,
for aught she cares. She'd like me to emigrate, I think."
"No, don't do that, Ben. England's big enough."
"For some people, sir. I don't know as it is for me. Well, sir, I'm
sacked, and I dare say it will be a long time before anyone will take me
on. My character usen't to be of the best, and the reasons for going
'll be again me. Of course you know why it is."
"Well--er--I suppose--"
"That'll do, sir. You know well enough, it's about you and my Judy."
The captain laughed.
"There, sir, you needn't shuffle with me. I'm my gal's father, and we
may as well understand one another."
"My good fellow, recollect whom you are talking to," said the captain,
haughtily.
"I do, sir. My late missus's son; and I recollect that I'm nobody's
servant now, only an Englishman as can speak out free like. So I say
this out plain. Of course, after what's been going on, you mean to
marry my Judith?"
"Marry her? Well--er--Ben--"
"No, you don't," said the keeper fiercely, "so don't tell me no lies,
because I know you've been and got yourself engaged to young Miss Glynne
over at Brackley."
"Well, sir, and if I have, what then?" said Rolph haughtily.
"This, sir," cried the keeper, with his eyes flashing, "that you've been
playing a damned cowardly mean part to Miss Glynne and to my Judith.
You've led my gal on to believe that you meant to marry her, and then
you've thrown her over and took up with Sir John Day's gal. And I tell
you this; if my Judith hadn't been what she is, and any harm had come of
it, you might have said your prayers, for as sure as there's two charges
o' shot in this here gun, I'd put one through you."
"What?"
"You heared what I said, sir, and you know I'm a man of my word. And
now, look here: you've been to the lodge to see Judith, for the last
time, of course, for if ever you speak to her again, look out. Now,
don't deny it, my lad. You've been to my cottage, for it is mine till
to-night."
"Yes, I have been to the lodge, Hayle," said Rolph, who was thoroughly
cowed by the keeper's fierce manner. "I was going through the wood
when, just as I drew near the cottage, I heard a cry for help."
"What?" roared Hayle.
"I ran to the porch just as a man was after Miss Hayle--Steady there."
The sound was startling, for involuntarily the keeper had cocked both
barrels of his gun; and, as he stood there with his eyes flashing, and
the weapon trembling in the air, the three dogs looked as if turned to
stone, their necks outstretched, heads down, and their long feathery
tails rigid, waiting for the double report they felt must follow.
"And--and--what did you do?" cried the keeper in a slow, hoarse voice,
which, taken in conjunction with the rapid cocking of the gun, made
Rolph think that, if it had been the father who had come upon that
scene, there might have been a tragedy in Thoreby Wood that day.
"I say, what did you do?" said the keeper again, in a voice full of
suppressed passion.
"That!" said Rolph, slowly raising his right hand to unwind from it
Judith's soft white handkerchief, now all stained with blood, and
display his knuckles denuded of skin.
"Hah!" ejaculated the keeper, as his eyes flashed. "God bless you for
that, sir. You knocked him down?"
"Of course."
"Yes--yes?"
"And he jumped up and drew his knife and struck at me."
"But he didn't hit you, sir; he didn't hit you?" cried the keeper,
forgetting everything in his excitement as he clutched the young man's
arm.
"No; I was too quick for him; and then he ran off into the wood."
"Damn him!" roared the keeper. "If I had only been there this would
have caught him," he cried, patting the stock of his gun. "I'd have set
the dogs on him after I'd given him a couple of charges of shot; I
would, sir, so help me God."
The veins were standing out all over the keeper's brow, as he ground his
teeth and shook his great heavy fist.
"But wait a bit. It won't be long before we meet."
"I am very glad you were not there, Hayle," said Rolph, after watching
the play of the father's features for a few moments.
"Why, sir, why?"
"Because I don't want to have you take your trial for manslaughter."
"No, no; I had enough of that over the breaking of Jack Harris's head,
sir; but--"
"Yes, but," said Rolph, quickly, "I wanted to talk to you about that."
"It was Caleb Kent," said the keeper, with sudden excitement.
"Yes, it was Caleb Kent."
"I might have known it; he was always for following her about. Curse
him! But talking's no good, sir; and, perhaps, it's as well I wasn't
there. Thankye, sir, for that. It makes us something more like quits.
As for Caleb Kent, perhaps I shall have a talk to him before I go. But
mind you don't speak to my Judy again."
He shouldered his gun, gave Rolph a nod, and then walked swiftly away,
the dogs hesitating for a few moments, and then dashing off, to follow
close at his heels.
Rolph stood watching the keeper for a few minutes till he disappeared.
"Well out of that trouble then," he muttered. "Not pleasant for a
fellow; it makes one feel so small. Poor little Judy! she'll be
horribly wild when she comes to know. What a lot of misery our marriage
laws do cause in this precious world."
"Now then for home," he said, after walking swiftly for a few minutes,
and, "putting on a spurt" as he termed it, he reached the house and went
straight to the library.
He had entered and closed the door to sit down and have a good think
about how he could "square Madge," when he became aware that the lady in
his thoughts was seated in one of the great arm-chairs with a book in
her hand, which she pretended to read. She cowered as her cousin
started, and stood gazing down at her with a frowning brow, and a look
of utter disgust and contempt about his lips which made her bosom rise
and fall rapidly.
"Do you want this room, Rob?" she said, breaking an awkward silence.
"Well, yes, after what took place this morning, you do make the place
seem unpleasant," he said coolly.
"Oh, this is too much," cried Madge, her face, the moment before deadly
pale, now flushing scarlet, as she threw down the book she had held, and
stood before him, biting her lips with rage.
"Yes, too much."
"And have we been to the cottage to see the fair idol? Pray explain,"
said Marjorie, who was beside herself with rage and jealousy. "I
thought gentlemen who were engaged always made an end of their vulgar
amours."
"Quite right," said Rolph, meaningly. "I did begin, as you know."
She winced, and her eyes darted an angry flash at him.
"You mean me," she said, with her lips turning white.
"I did not say so."
"But would it not have been better, now we are engaged to Glynne Day--I
don't understand these things, of course--but would it not have been
better for a gentleman, now that he is engaged, to cease visiting that
creature, and, above all, to keep away when he was not wanted?"
"What do you mean?--not wanted?"
"I mean when she was engaged with her lover, who was visiting her in her
father's absence."
"The scoundrel!" cried Rolph, fiercely.
"Yes; a miserable, contemptible wretch, I suppose, but an old flame of
hers."
"Look here, Madge; you're saying all this to make me wild," cried Rolph,
"but it won't do. You know it's a lie."
Madge laughed unpleasantly.
"It's true. He was always after her. She told me so herself, and how
glad she was that the wretch had been sent to prison--of course, because
he was in the way just then."
"Go on," growled Rolph. "A jealous woman will say anything."
"Jealous?--I?--Pah!--Only angry with myself because I was so weak as to
listen to you."
"And I was so weak as to say anything to a malicious, deceitful cat of a
girl, who is spiteful enough to do anything."
"I, spiteful?--Pah!"
"Well, malicious then."
"Perhaps I shall be. I wonder what dear Glynne would say about this
business. Suppose I told her that our honourable and gallant friend, as
they call it in parliament, had been on a visit to that shameless
creature whom poor auntie had been compelled to turn away from the
house, and in his honourable and gallant visit arrived just in time to
witness the end of a lover's quarrel; perhaps you joined in for ought I
know, and--I can't help laughing--Poor fellow! You did. You have been
fighting with your rival, and bruised your knuckles. Did he beat you
much, Rob, and win?"
Robert Rolph was dense and brutal enough, and his cousin's words made
him wince, but he looked at the speaker in disgust as the malevolence of
her nature forced itself upon him more and more.
"Well," he cried at last, "I've seen some women in my time, but I never
met one yet who could stand by and glory in seeing one whom she had
looked upon as a sister insulted like poor Judy was."
"A sister!" cried Marjorie, contemptuously. "Absurd!--a low-born
trull!"
"Whom you called dear, and kissed often enough till you thought I liked
her, and then--Hang it all, Madge, are you utterly without shame!"
She shrank from him as if his words were thongs which cut into her
flesh, but as he ceased speaking, with a passionate sob, she flung her
arms about his neck, and clung tightly there.
"Rob! Don't, I can't bear it," she cried. "You don't know what I have
suffered--what agony all this has caused."
"There, there, that will do," he said contemptuously. "I am engaged, my
dear."
She sprang from him, and a fierce light burned in her eyes for a moment,
but disappointment and her despair were too much for her, and she flung
herself upon his breast.
"No, no, Rob, dear, it isn't true. I couldn't help hating Judith or any
woman who came between us. You don't mean all this, and it is only to
try me. You cannot--you shall not marry Glynne; and as to Judith, it is
impossible now."
"Give over," he said roughly, as he tried to free himself from her arms.
"No, you sha'n't go. I must tell you," she whispered hoarsely amidst
her sobs. "I hate Judith, but she is nothing--not worthy of a thought I
will never mention her name to you again, dear."
"Don't pray," he cried sarcastically. "If you do, I shall always be
seeing you gloating over her trouble as I saw you this morning."
"It was because I loved you so, Rob," she murmured as she nestled to
him. "It was because I felt that you were mine and mine only, after the
past; and all that was forcing her away from you."
"Bah!" he cried savagely. "Madge! Don't be a fool! Will you loosen
your hands before I hurt you."
But she clung to him still.
"No, not yet," she whispered. "You made me love you, Rob, and I forget
everything in that. Promise me first that you will break all that off
about Glynne Day."
"I promise you that I'll get your aunt to place you in a private
asylum," he cried brutally, "if you don't leave go."
There was a slight struggle, and he tore himself free, holding her
wrists together in his powerful grasp and keeping her at arm's length.
"There! Idiot!" he cried. "Must I hold you till you come to your
senses."
"If you wish--brute!" she cried through her little white teeth as her
lips were drawn away. "Kill me if you like now. I don't care a bit:
you can't hurt me more than you have."
"If I hurt you, it serves you right. A nice, ladylike creature, 'pon my
soul. Pity my mother hasn't been here to see the kind of woman she
wanted me to marry."
"Go on," she whispered, "go on. Insult me: you have a right. Go on."
"I'm going off," he said roughly. "There, go up to your room, and have
a good hysterical cry and a wash, and come back to your senses. If you
will have it you shall, and the whole truth too. I never cared a bit
for you. It was all your own doing, leading me on. Want to go."
"Loose my hands, brute."
"For you to scratch my face, my red-haired pussy. Not such a fool. I
know your sweet temper of old. If I let go, will you be quiet?"
Marjorie made no reply, but she ceased to struggle and stood there with
her wrists held, the white skin growing black--a prisoner--till, with a
contemptuous laugh, he threw the little arms from him.
"Go and tell Glynne everything you know--everything you have seen, if
you like," he said harshly, "only tell everything about yourself too,
and then come back to me to be loved, my sweet, amiable, little
white-faced tigress. I'm not afraid though, Madge. You can't open
those pretty lips of yours, can you? It might make others speak in
their defence."
"Brute," she whispered as she gazed at him defiantly and held out her
bruised wrists.
"Brute, am I? Well, let sleeping brutes lie. Don't try to rouse them
up for fear they should bite. Go to your room and bathe your pretty red
eyes after having a good cry, and then come and tell me that you think
it is best to cry truce, and forget all the past."
"Never, Rob, dear," she said with a curious smile. "Go on; but mind
this: you shall never marry Glynne Day."
"Sha'n't I? We shall see. I think I can pull that off," he cried with
a mocking laugh. "But if I don't, whom shall I marry?"
She turned from him slowly, and then faced round again as she reached
the door.
"Me," she said quietly; and the next minute Robert Rolph was alone.
Volume 1, Chapter X.