THE EVENING OF THE BLOW.
It was the peculiarity of Miss Bettina Davenal to be more especially
deaf when suddenly surprised or annoyed. Possibly it is the same with
other deaf people. Sara Davenal stood before her in her drawing-room
striving to make her comprehend the state of affairs relative to the
Great Wheal Bang; and not at first successfully. Miss Bettina had not
understood why Mrs. Cray had driven round in hurried agitation that
morning and carried off Sara by storm: Caroline would not explain why,
and Sara could not. Sara had returned home now, willing to afford
every explanation; indeed believing it to be her duty so to do; but
Miss Bettina, offended at the morning's slight, was keeping her heart
closed; and when _that_ was shut, the ears would not open.
"_What_ d'you say? You went up to the offices? I should like to know
what took you and Caroline to the offices? Young ladies don't require
to go to such places."
"She went to try to see Mark, aunt."
"Ugh!" growled Miss Bettina. "Mark told her, indeed! If Mark Cray told
her to go down the mine amidst the lead, she'd do it. Doesn't he see
enough of her at home?"
"She went to try to see Mark, Aunt Bettina," repeated Sara, more
slowly. "I--I am afraid they are ruined."
"Serve them right," returned Miss Bettina, catching the last word, but
attaching no importance to it.
"Some disastrous news has been received from Wales, from the mine.
Caroline says a Mr. Brackenbury called in Grosvenor Place last
night----"
"Mr. who?"
"Mr. Brackenbury. She did not know then why he called, but Mr. Oswald
Cray has now told her that he brought the first news of it to Mark. It
had come up to him by telegram."
Miss Bettina Davenal bent her ear. "He came up by telegram! What do
you mean by that? Have they got a new invention that brings up people,
pray? Why are you not more careful how you speak, Miss Sara Davenal?"
"I said the news came up by telegram, aunt. It came to Mr.
Brackenbury; and that's why he called on Mark last night. At least so
Mr. Oswald Cray told Caroline. Caroline had been surprised or annoyed
at his visit; she did not understand it; and she mentioned it to Mr.
Oswald Cray."
Miss Bettina lifted her hands helplessly. "What's any Mr. Brackenbury
to me?--or Oswald Cray either? I want to know why Caroline took you to
those offices today?"
"I am trying to tell you, aunt," said poor Sara. "Mark went up to the
offices early this morning before Caroline was awake; he came home
again about eleven, saying he had forgotten something, but Caroline
thought his manner absent and strange. He left again, and soon after
the house was invaded by quite a crowd of men, gentlemen, demanding to
see him----"
"Had they got an organ with them?"
Miss Bettina's interruption took Sara rather aback. "An organ, aunt? I
don't know what you mean."
"Not know what I mean!" was the wrathful answer. "Crowds don't collect
round houses unless there's a cause; organs or monkeys, or some such
nonsense. What did they collect there for?"
Sara bent her head lower and strove to speak with even more
distinctness. "It was a crowd of gentlemen, aunt; gentlemen from the
City; though perhaps I ought not to have said a crowd, but it was what
Caroline called it to me. They came down in Hansom cabs, she said, and
they were fierce in their demands to see Mark, and they'd hardly go
away again, and they said the mine was ruined. Caroline was alarmed,
and she went up herself to try to see Mark, but she did not like to go
alone, and came round for me."
The words were as a hopeless jumble in Miss Bettina's ear; their sense
nowhere. "I wish you'd be clear," she said, tartly. "If you want to
tell me a thing, tell it in a straightforward manner. Why do you mix
up crowds and organs with it?"
"Dear aunt, I never said a word about an organ.
The--mine--is--ruined," she added, almost out of heart with her task.
"What's ruined?" shrieked Miss Bettina.
"The mine. The Great Wheal Bang." Miss Bettina heard this time. She
had lived in expectation of the news ever since the Great Wheal Bang
first jumped into existence. Nevertheless it scared her; and an
expression of dismay sat on her refined features as she turned them on
Sara with a questioning gaze.
"I believe the water has got in. They say it is utter ruin. And Mark
Cray can't be found."
"What has Mark Cray found?"
"_He_ can't be found, aunt. He was not at the offices when we got
there, and the shareholders--as I suppose the people were--attacked
the carriage: some of them have sunk a great deal of money in the
mine. There was no real danger, of course; but Mr. Oswald Cray got us
out of it."
Miss Bettina stared hopelessly. "Oswald Cray got you out of the mine!
What _are_ you talking of?"
"Out of the carriage, aunt; not out of the mine. That's in Wales."
"Do you suppose I thought it was in London?" retorted offended Miss
Bettina. "You'll be obligingly informing me where London is next.
Where _is_ Mark Cray?"
"No one seems to know. His wife does not; except that he said to her
he might have to go down to Wales this evening, and she was not to
mention it. She is in great uncertainty and distress."
"What's she in?"
"Uncertainty, distress," repeated Sara. "She is as frightened as a
child. I fear she will not be a good one to bear misfortune. I went
home with her and remained some time; it was that made me so late.
When I came away she was growing very angry with Mark: she says he
ought to have told her of it this morning."
"And so he ought," said Miss Bettina. "Ah! I never cordially approved
that match for Caroline, and the doctor knew it. She'll see what he's
made of now. You say you came in contact with the shareholders: what
did they say?"
Sara hesitated. "They were saying very disagreeable things, Aunt
Bettina."
"That's not telling me what they said."
"They talked of deceit and--and swindling. They seem dreadfully bitter
against Mark Cray."
"Dreadfully what against him?"
"Bitter."
"Oh," said Miss Bettina. "Mark Cray's a fool in more ways than one;
but they should blame themselves, not him. Mark told them the mine was
of gold, I daresay; but it was their fault if they believed it. A man
might come to me and say, If you will give me a ten-pound note I'll
bring it you back tomorrow doubled, and if I fell into the trap I
ought not to turn my anger on him. Mark Cray _believed_ in the mine:
those schemers are so sanguine."
Sara bent her head until her lips almost touched her aunt's ear, and
lowered her voice to a cautious tone: but somehow it was terribly
distinct to Miss Bettina.
"Aunt, I fear it is not quite so straightforward as you think. There
was an irruption of water in the summer--a slight one, I fancy--and
Mark and Mr. Barker concealed it. It is this which makes the
shareholders so angry, and, they say--they say they can prosecute him
for it."
"Who said this?" asked Miss Bettina, after a pause.
"I can hardly tell who. We heard a great deal of talking altogether.
One gentleman came up to Mr. Oswald Cray as he was taking us to the
carriage again, and asked him if he was not Mark's brother. Oswald
replied that he was Mark's half-brother; and then the gentleman said
harsh things, and Oswald could not stop him, and could not get us by."
Miss Bettina poured forth question upon question. Incensed as she had
been against Mark Cray and his wife for the past months, much as she
had blamed their folly, sharp as were her prophecies of the final
results, perhaps this was worse than she had bargained for. She had
looked for ruin, but not for criminal disgrace.
"And Mark can't be found, you say?" she asked, her tone a shrill one.
"No."
She sat down to the dinner-table, for the day had gone on to evening,
despatching Neal for a fly while she ate a bit, and then she went out,
taking Sara. "Grosvenor Place," she said to Neal And that observant
domestic knew by the compressed lips, the clasped hands, the rigid
head, how inwardly flurried was his mistress.
They found Caroline in a state of emotion, bordering upon hysteria.
Fear, anger, perplexity, and despair, succeeding each other so rapidly
that her mood may have been said to savour of the whole at once. Poor
Caroline Cray knew nothing of either endurance or reticence; her anger
against Mark was great at the present moment, and she gave way to it
loudly.
"Where is he?" was the first pointed question of Miss Davenal.
"I don't know where he is. He might have trusted me. It's not his
fault if the water has come into the mine, and he had no cause to go
away; but if he had gone, he might have taken me. Barker has been down
here in a dreadful passion, and says Mark was not a good fellow to
steal a march on him and leave him alone all day to fight the battle
with the shareholders. A hundred people, about, have been here after
Mark, and it's a shame that I should be left to hear all the remarks."
"Is Oswald Cray with you?" asked Miss Bettina.
"Oh, my goodness, I don't suppose he'll come here again," returned poor
Caroline, half beside herself. "I thought him cold and queer in his
manner today. Barker says he is vexed at losing his thousand pounds;
and that Mark got two hundred more from him last night after he knew
the mine had gone. Oswald said nothing to me, but of course he is
incensed at it."
Miss Davenal had been listening with her hand to her ear, and she
heard pretty well. "Do you know the particulars of the calamity?" she
asked. "Is the mine irretrievably ruined!"
"I don't know anything, except that I'm fit to go mad," she answered,
beginning to sob like a petulant child.
In that one first moment of the blow Miss Davenal was generous enough
to spare reproaches for all the folly of the past, though she had
plenty at her tongue's end. She had not sat down since she entered;
she had stood rigid and upright; and when she went out to the fly she
ordered it to Mr. Oswald Cray's.
"Tell the man to drive quickly," said Miss Bettina to Neal. "What do
you say, Sara? Let you stop with Caroline? Caroline wants neither you
nor me; I can see that. There'll be trouble over this."
Mrs. Cray had not chosen an inapt word when she said Oswald must be
incensed against Mark. It was precisely Oswald's present state of
feeling. He saw that the thousand pounds had been nothing but a
stopgap; not drawn from him for his own good and benefit, as Mark so
largely boasted, but for Mark's own necessities. And as to the two
hundred pounds of the previous night, the money of the firm--Oswald
did boil over at the thought of that. Oh, why could not Mark have been
upright and open! why could he not have gone to Oswald with the truth
upon his lip, and said, Let me have this two hundred pounds in my dire
necessity, and I will repay you when I can! Oswald was not the brother
to refuse him.
Oswald had had a battle with himself. When he returned home after that
scene in the city, feeling that his money, the twelve hundred pounds,
was irretrievably lost, he sat down and thought. Should he cancel the
offer made to Frank Allister to go out to Spain, and take the
appointment himself, as at first intended? Was he justified in
foregoing it, under this unexpected loss? The same considerations
swayed him now as previously; his own interest versus Frank's health,
perhaps life; but how weighty a balance was now thrown into his own
scale!
If ever Oswald had need of a better guidance than his own, he had need
now. And he was conscious of it. He had many failings, as we all have;
and his pride often stood in his way; but he had one great and good
gift--a conscience that was ever prompting him on the upward way.
"No, I will not hesitate," he said to himself. "The necessity for
Allister's going remains the same, and he shall go. I must overget
this other loss as I best can, though it may be years first, but I'll
not set my own interest against Allister's life."
And so Frank Allister and his sister received no countermand, and they
proceeded to Mr. Oswald Cray's that evening, to talk over
arrangements, as it had been decided they should; and they never knew
the sacrifice that had been made for them, or had the least suspicion
that Mr. Oswald Cray had yielded up the appointment.
When Miss Davenal and Sara arrived, Mrs. Benn received them. That
errant husband of hers and valued servant of the firm, was out again.
This was _not_ Mrs. Benn's cleaning-day; but any little extra duty,
though it was but the receiving a visitor at unusual hours, put her
out excessively; and it was not usual for a levee of ladies to attend
the house in an evening. She appeared at the door with the ordinary
crusty face and a candle in her hand.
"Is Mr. Oswald Cray at home?" was Neal's demand.
"Yes, he is," returned Mrs. Benn, speaking as if the question injured
her very much indeed.
Neal stepped back to the fly, and opened the door for the ladies to
alight. Mrs. Benn stared at the proceedings with all her eyes.
"Well, if this don't bang everything!" she ejaculated, partly to
herself, partly to the street. "If he was agoing to have a party
tonight, he might have told me, I think. And that there Benn to go
out, and never light the hall-lamp first! It cracks my arms to do it:
a nasty, high, awk'ard thing! Will he be for ordering tea for 'em, I
wonder I when there ain't nothing but a hot loaf in the house, and one
pat o' but--"
"Show me to Mr. Oswald Cray's private rooms," came the interrupting
voice of Miss Davenal, as she entered.
"This way," returned sulky Mrs. Benn; "there's one of them there
already."
The "one of 'em" must have applied to the assumed evening party, for
in the sitting-room sat Jane Allister. Her bonnet was off, her shawl
was unpinned; her fair face was serene and contented, as though she
were in her own home. Miss Davenal bowed stiffly in her surprise, and
the rebellious jealousy rose up in Sara's heart.
"Is Mr. Oswald Cray not here?" asked Miss Davenal, halting on the
threshold.
Jane Allister came forward with her good and candid face, and Miss
Davenal's reserved tone relaxed. "Mr. Oswald Cray is downstairs with
my brother and another gentleman. They are settling some business
together; I don't think they will be long."
Miss Davenal did not hear, but Sara repeated the words to her. They
sat down; and Miss Allister, finding the elder lady was deaf, took her
seat by Sara.
"I came here tonight to settle particulars about our Spanish journey,"
explained Jane Allister, as if in apology for being found there. "I am
going to live in Spain."
Sara heard it as one in a dream. Oswald Cray was going to Spain for a
lengthened residence: he had told her so when she was in that room a
fortnight ago. If Jane Allister was going with him, why then, it must
be that they were going to be married immediately.
Her face flushed, her brow grew moist. In a sort of desperation, in
her eager wish to know the worst at once, she turned to Jane Allister.
"Are you going with Mr. Oswald Cray?"
"I am going with my brother."
"With--your--brother! And _not_ with Mr. Oswald Cray?"
"No, surely not. How could I go with Mr. Oswald Cray? It would not be
proper," she simply added.
"I--I thought--I meant as his wife," said poor Sara, all confused in
her heart sickness. "I beg your pardon."
"As his wife!--Mr. Oswald Cray's! Nay, but that is an unlikely thing
to fancy. I am not suitable to Mr. Oswald Cray. Do you know him?
"O yes."
"Then you might have been sure he'd not cast his thoughts to a plain
body like me. Why should he? I am not his equal in position. He has
been a brother to Frank, and I reverence him beyond any one I know as
a good and true friend. That's all."
Why did her heart give a great bound of hope at the words, when she
knew--when she _knew_ that he was lost to her? Oswald Cray came
bounding up the stairs, but a mist had gathered before Sara's eyes,
and she saw nothing clearly.
"Frank is waiting for you, Jane. He will not come upstairs again."
"Does he know about everything?"
"Everything, I think. We have discussed it all, and he will tell you.
But he is coming again in the morning."
Oswald had spoken as he shook hands with Miss Davenal. Another moment
and they were alone together: the young Scotch lady had left the room.
"Mr. Oswald Cray, you must tell me all you know of this unhappy
business, from beginning to end," said Miss Davenal. "I have come to
you for the information, and I beg you to conceal nothing. Is Mark
Cray in danger?"
Oswald scarcely knew in what sense to take the word. He hesitated as
he looked at Miss Davenal.
"How has it all come about? Let me hear the whole of it; the best and
the worst. His wife professes to know nothing, and it was of no use my
asking her. The water has got into the mine."
"It is said to be overflowing it; but particulars are not ascertained
yet," replied Oswald, as he proceeded to speak of what he knew.
It was not much, for he was nearly as much in the dark as they were.
Miss Davenal listened with compressed lips.
At the conclusion of the interview, Oswald took Miss Davenal out to
the fly upon his arm, placed her in it, and turned to Sara.
"The last time I saw you I had a journey in my head," he said in a low
tone; "I told you I was going to Spain."
"Yes."
"I am not going now. I have given up the idea. We shall send out a
gentleman instead; my friend, Frank Allister. Goodnight; goodnight,
Miss Davenal."
Severely upright in the carriage sat Miss Davenal, her countenance one
picture of condemnation for the absent Mark. Only once did she open
her lips to Sara opposite to her, and that was as the carriage turned
out of the glare and gas of the more populous streets to the quiet one
which contained their home.
"What would your brother Edward say to this, were he at home?"
What would he say to something else? As the carriage drew up to the
door, a female figure was slowly pacing before it, as if in waiting.
And Sara shrank into the remotest corner of the carriage with a shiver
of dread, for she recognised her for the stranger. Catherine
Wentworth.