A WOMAN SCORNED.
In her then state of mind it needed but the assurance of Jarner that
Dan loved Meg to change Miss Linisfarne's passive dislike of the girl
into active hatred. She had long been aware that Meg was her rival,
but this confirmation by a third party showed her how easily she might
lose her prize. At the same time, she was sufficiently clever to see
that Meg was quite unconscious of Dan's devotion, and hoped, by taking
advantage of this fact, to draw him away from one presumably
indifferent to his regard. It was a difficult and delicate task, but
Miss Linisfarne deemed herself capable of carrying it through. Come
what may, she was resolved that Meg should not triumph.
To forward her schemes, it was necessary that she should have an
interview with Dan, and therefore sent a note to the dell requesting
him to call. The young man duly received the invitation, and, though
reluctant to visit a lady with whom his name was connected by gossip,
could not find sufficient grounds for refusal, and so sent back to say
that he would call at noon as desired. Had he known of Jarner's
interview, he might have been placed on his guard, and so refused a
meeting which could only end in disaster; but Jarner was away on
parochial business, and Dan was quite ignorant of his danger.
Much as he distrusted Miss Linisfarne--for by her own acts she had
caused the gossip which had connected their names,--he did not think
she was so passionately in love with him as to overstep all bounds of
womanly modesty. He had laughed to scorn the notion of marriage put
forward by Tim and Dr. Merle, deeming it beyond all probability that a
gentlewoman would be so rash as to desire to link her fortunes with
those of a nameless vagrant. Although Tinker Tim and the vicar knew
his name, he was well assured that Miss Linisfarne was ignorant of it,
and so could see no reason to believe the rumour of marriage. Dan was
a cautious and astute young man, but in this case he had to measure
his wits against a woman. As a natural consequence, he failed. The
cleverest man is but a fool in some matters, when compared with even a
silly woman. Yet Dan came through the ordeal more creditably than he
might have expected.
Miss Linisfarne was by no means silly, and had all her plans prepared
for the subjugation of Dan. She intended to tell him that Meg's
indifference was caused by the fact of her having another lover whom
she wished to marry. There not being a representative of this mythical
lover in the parish of Farbis, Miss Linisfarne decided to locate him
at a safe distance, where he could not be easily found. All this was
very clever, but she quite forgot that Dan's insight into human nature
was as keen as her own, and that he would find it difficult to believe
that a mere child like Meg could keep secret so important a factor in
her life as a future marriage. Dan was honest and straightforward,
and, notwithstanding Miss Linisfarne's fine-spun webs of sophistry,
contrived in the end to break through them, though not without
difficulty and pain. He failed in one respect, as his antagonist was a
woman and unscrupulous; but he was successful in the end, as his
strong love for Meg proved his safeguard against the wiles of this
enchantress.
Miss Linisfarne received him in her own particular corner of the
drawing-room. Knowing her ill health, Dan quite expected to find her
stretched languidly on the couch, but was astonished, as Jarner had
been, to find himself welcomed by a bright-eyed lady, alert and merry.
She presided over the tea-table and invited him to be seated. Nothing
loth--for his walk had given him an appetite--Dan drank tea and
devoured cakes, while Miss Linisfarne chatted to him on unimportant
subjects. She was too clever to introduce Meg's name into the
conversation, lest his suspicions might be aroused, and left him to
make the first mention of the girl. This he did while talking of Mr.
Jarner, and discussing matters incidental to his sojourn at Farbis.
"I have enjoyed my stay here very very much, thank you, Miss
Linisfarne," said Dan, in answer to a question. "You can judge of that
by the months I have been encamped in the dell."
"And what have you most delighted in?" asked Miss Linisfarne, hoping
by this artful remark to lead him to talk of Meg.
"In Mr. Jarner. I have never met a character like him before."
"No; a sporting parson is rather rare nowadays."
"It's not exactly his love of sport, but his whole character I admire.
He is a cross between Dr. Johnson and Squire Western. A bluff, honest,
hearty old man, who would put to shame many of our mincing, scented
clergy. I can well understand him doing what he told me he did the
other day."
"What is that?"
"Why, he found his congregation was not large enough, and was in
danger of beginning the service, like Dean Swift, with 'Dearly beloved
Roger,' so he doffed his surplice and went out with his hunting crop
to thrash in a few listeners. Ay, and he succeeded too! He thrashed
the whole village. I can fancy how attentive that congregation must
have been."
"He is very amusing," said Miss Linisfarne, laughing at this anecdote;
"and has a good heart."
"That he has," assented Dan, heartily. "Look how kind he has been to
Meg. I do not know what she would have done without yourself and Mr.
Jarner."
"Ob, I have done very little," said Miss Linisfarne, carelessly. "It
was a great pleasure to me to help the poor child. I am afraid you
find her very rough and countrified?"
"Indeed, no. I think her perfection as she is. It would be a sin to
turn her into a fine London lady."
"What do you know about London ladies?"
"What indeed!" said Dan, laughing to hide his confusion. "I am only a
vagabond."
"I think we argued that question before, and disagreed upon it. You
are no vagabond, though it pleases you to pass as one. By the way, you
promised to tell me your name in a week or so. It is now two months
since then, and I am still ignorant of it."
"I cannot tell you at present," muttered Dan, awkwardly; "on some
future occasion I may."
Miss Linisfarne was disappointed at this denial, but did not see her
way to press the matter. Nevertheless, she skilfully made use of the
opportunity to reintroduce the topic of Meg.
"It pleases you to be mysterious," she said coldly, "and I trust your
motives are straightforward."
"I think I can answer for them. With regard to whom?"
"Meg Merle! You are constantly with her, and I do not think that it is
right that you should be."
"Why not?" asked Dan, with a frown. The significance of her tone
annoyed him.
"Well, for one thing, it is not right for the girl herself; for
another--her lover may take exception to your conduct."
"Miss Linisfarne!"
He had leaped to his feet, and was looking at her with angry eyes. She
gazed at him with admiration, and thought she had never seen him look
so handsome; yet, undeterred by his wrath, persisted in her line of
conduct.
"Ah, you are astonished, I see. You did not know, then, that Meg was
engaged to be married?"
"I cannot believe it."
"Nevertheless, it is true. That is why she is so indifferent to your
suit."
"What do you mean?" said Dan, rather confused by the rapidity with
which she pressed the attack.
"Oh, I am not blind! I know you are in love with her. Your devotion is
quite useless, as you can see from her demeanour. She----"
"That is innocence," he interrupted roughly. "She does not know the
meaning of love. She has never thought of marriage. I do not--I cannot
believe that she is engaged. Her whole life gives the lie to such an
assertion."
"You are discourteous."
"I beg your pardon, I did not mean to be so," he replied
apologetically; "but it is impossible. You must be mistaken."
"Ask Mr. Byrne of Silkstone if I am mistaken. Meg may deny it, but
he----"
"Why should she deny it? If she is engaged to be married to this
Silkstone man of whom you speak, there is no necessity to keep it
secret. But I tell you it cannot be. If it were so she would have told
me. She is an innocent child, who cannot keep a secret."
"She kept this one, however."
"Moreover, Mr. Jarner would have told me," said Dan, not heeding the
taunt.
Miss Linisfarne lost her temper. She had counted on resistance, but
not on such a stubborn defence of Meg. Rising with flashing eyes, she
stepped up to Dan, and, throwing aside all restraint, burst out into
rapid speech. It was not wise for her to do so, but her love and
jealousy carried her away, and she spoke wildly, madly--as she never
would have spoken had she reflected for a moment.
"Are you blind, sir, that you so believe in this girl? I tell you, she
is engaged to be married. She does not love you--she will never love
you. Why should you lay your heart at her feet only to find it
spurned? Give it to me--I say, give it to me."
"To you!" cried Dan, scarcely believing his ears.
"Yes. You now know my secret. I love you! I love you! I wish to
make you my husband. You are poor, but I am rich. Take me--take my
money--only leave that wretched girl and come to me, who truly loves
you."
Dan stepped back a pace, and looked at her in amazement. Her face was
flushed, her eyes were unnaturally bright, and her whole body trembled
with emotion as she stretched out appealing hands to him. He was so
utterly astonished, that for the moment he did not know what to
say--what to do.
"I love you. Come to me," she cried passionately. "You must see how I
am prepared to give up all for you."
"But I--I am not--not worthy," he stammered.
"You are in my eyes."
"I am poor--nameless--unknown."
"What is that to me? I am rich--take my money. I have a name--take it
as your own. With my name and my money you can make yourself known.
Only love me."
It was an extremely awkward situation. Here was Dan, standing
helplessly before this impassionate woman, unable to move, almost
unable to speak. He faltered, stammered, hesitated, while she with
outstretched arms drew nearer. It was impossible to say how he would
have extricated himself from the dilemma, had not a memory of his
conversation with Merle flashed across his brain. He acted on the
impulse of the moment, and flung out a hand to keep her back.
"No. It is impossible. You are mad. Think of Mallard."
"Mallard!"
"Of Richard Mallard, whom you deceived, and deserted, and ruined!"
Before the last words left his mouth, she had fallen fainting on the
floor. The name evidently recalled some painful memory, as Dan, on
remembering the anguish of Merle, guessed it would. He was sorry that
he had mentioned it, but, so awkwardly was he placed, that he saw no
way out of the position but to act in what he considered a brutal
fashion. It proved efficacious, for Miss Linisfarne lay at his feet in
a swoon, and he was free to go.
Ringing the bell hastily he committed the insensible woman to the care
of the astonished housekeeper, and rushed away with his brain on fire.
"She is mad! mad!" he said, as he ran down the avenue. "But what else
could I do? Mallard! Mallard and Merle! What does it all mean? Only
one person can solve the mystery of Miss Linisfarne, and that is
Tinker Tim."