Meanwhile, Adrien's skiff was moored at the landing-place of an old inn,
some distance further up the river. Under a rustic porch Lady Merivale
was finishing her tea, while her companion enjoyed a cigarette.
Alas! for the irony of fate! This day, during which he had strenuously
endeavoured to forget Constance, had only shown him more plainly the
utter impossibility of doing so. If he had but known the opportunity he
had missed with that letter, his mortification and despair would have
been even greater.
Constance had regretted her policy in sending Adrien from her almost
before the day was over, and had purposely planned this way of seeing
him. Deeming his outing--thanks to Jasper's clever insinuations--to have
been undertaken on purpose to avoid her, the girl's heart was heavy
within her, and filled with something very like resentment too.
Adrien, on the other hand, all unwitting of the harm this excursion had
done his cause, had talked long and quietly with Lady Merivale. He had
made up his mind to break away even from these silken strings.
"So you have determined to leave me?" she said sadly.
He nodded.
"You know I must," he replied. "For your sake, as well as mine, it is
best."
"Perhaps you are right," she said in a low voice. "So this is the last
happy day we shall spend together?"
"Yes," he answered with a sigh. "Now, standing here, I see only too well
that we ought never to have spent any at all. I dread lest I have spoilt
your happiness, Eveline, lest a breath of slander should touch your
name. I will not deny that I had of late hoped to marry and settle down
as my father wishes, but it is not to be. Don't laugh at me when I tell
you I am going to turn over a new leaf. After this ball at Barminster, I
shall go abroad for awhile. That will give the world time to forget we
have ever had more than a passing acquaintance."
Tears rolled down Eveline's face as she listened to his words. She had
played her last card, and she knew the game was lost; though it was her
vanity that suffered more than her heart. She was too clever and too
proud to resist any further, however, or sue for his favour. Presently
she rose, and said, as steadily as usual:
"Come, Adrien, let us turn down stream and retrace our way while we can
see. It is dusk already--I had no idea it had grown so late."
He helped her into the little skiff in silence; and as the Sea Foam
glided over the rippling waters a profound stillness seemed to descend
over the darkening landscape.
Presently Lady Merivale peered forward.
"This half-light is so deceptive," she said, in a rather nervous voice;
"I nearly steered you into the bank then."
"Can you see?" he asked. "Put down the lines and let me guide the boat."
"No, no," she replied. "I can see well enough."
"Just as you like," he said gently. "I will row quicker. It's time we
were in Hampton. For what hour did you order the car?"
"I came by train," she answered.
"I have my motor," said Leroy; "I suppose you would not return in that?"
"Good Heavens, no!" she exclaimed. "Whatever would people think? No,
I'll return by train, and take a taxi from Waterloo. I shall even then
be in time to dress for Lady Martindale's 'At Home.'"
He did not seek to alter her decision, but sent the boat along with
rapid strokes, which broke up the placid water into ripples at each
plunge of the oars.
Lady Merivale leaned forward and gave a sudden start.
"Look, look!" she cried in terror-stricken tones. "What is that?" She
pointed to a sheet of spray rising and falling a few yards from them, or
rather below them. Adrien turned his head to see the cause of her alarm,
and his very heart seemed to stop beating.
"Sit still," he cried, "for Heaven's sake. You have steered us near the
weir!"
With all his strength he started to row back. The strain was tremendous.
That line of silver spray marked their fall to instant and certain
death. No aid was possible; the solitude of the woods and lands was as
absolute as if they had been in an unknown country. All he could do was
to keep the woman in whose safety he was concerned quiet, if not
reassured, while he exerted every nerve in his body to withdraw the
little craft from the danger line.
"Cling to the boat," he shouted loudly, for the falling water rang in
his ears with a deafening roar.
As he spoke, the frail craft capsized, and its occupants were plunged
into the foaming, churning water. Leroy made a frantic grasp at his
companion's dress, but missed it. A second later, he saw, in the midst
of the foam, her slight form being carried down to the weir. With a cry
of horror he struck out, in an attempt to rescue her.
In those few awful seconds he prayed that the punishment of their
light-hearted folly might not fall on the woman, but on him; that his
life might be lost, sooner than her good name.
Luckily, he was an expert swimmer; and aided by the stream, which was as
swift as a mill-race, he soon managed to get within reach of Lady
Merivale. With a great effort he grasped her firmly, and, turning slowly
and painfully, swung aslant the stream to the opposite bank.
Her face was white, as if life were already extinct. Her eyes were
closed.
"Heaven grant me her life!" he groaned, as, panting and nearly
exhausted, he dragged himself and his precious burden up on the bank.
He laid her down and felt for some signs of life; to his intense
gratitude, she still breathed; and with a silent prayer of thankfulness,
he turned to look for assistance.
At a little distance a light burned in a window. Without pausing an
instant, he took the still form in his arms and hastened towards it.
All unconscious of the struggle for life going on so close to her, Lucy
Ashford sat working busily, her pretty face lifted to the clock every
minute or so, as she waited for her husband to return.
The children were in bed, and Jessica was just coming down the tiny
staircase when a sharp knock sounded at the outer door, causing Lucy to
drop her work in her usual terror at any unexpected sound.
The shop had been closed, it was too late for rural customers, and
wondering who it could be, she took up her candle and went to the door.
Timidly she pulled back the latch and peered out. A gentleman stood on
the threshold with his face towards the river. At the sound of the
opening door, he turned. Down went the candle with a crash and splutter;
up went the two hands to her face.
Mr. Jasper Vermont stood looking down at her with a cruel, amused smile
for a moment; then in his soft, purring voice he said:
"I'm afraid I've startled you, Miss--Mrs. Ashford. Pray let me recover
the candle. There that's better." As he spoke he pushed past her into
the dimly lighted shop.
"Quite startled, eh?" he continued blandly. "Unwelcome visitor, I
suppose?"
"No, no!" breathed the poor little woman, who at the moment resembled a
sparrow in the clutches of a hawk, or a mouse beneath the paw of its
enemy, the cat. "No, no, I--I am very glad to see you, sir. Will you
come in?"
At this faint welcome Mr. Vermont smiled still more.
"Thank you, Mrs. Lucy," he said, "I think I will," and he followed her
into the spotless sitting-room.
Meanwhile, Jessica, at the first sound of a strange voice, and afraid of
being sought for by Wilfer, had concealed herself at the back of the
house.
Jasper looked round the room in mock admiration.
"What a delightful little place you have here," he continued. "Most
charming! Commerce and romance mingled together, I declare. And now,"
sinking into a seat and fixing his eyes upon the white, frightened face
of his victim, "how is your husband, Mr. John Ashford?"
"Very well, sir," faltered the miserable woman, praying with all her
heart that John might not come home.
"And the children," continued her persecutor; "two, are there not?
Pretty little dears! I'm so fond of children, you know, Mrs. Lucy. Quite
a happy woman you must be. A most comfortable little house, I never saw
anything like it, excepting once, and that was at Canterbury."
The poor woman, her worst fears realised, fell down on her knees, and
turned up her white face piteously to the cruel, mocking one above her.
"Oh, sir, kind, good sir," she implored, "spare me! You will not, say
you will not ruin me? We are so happy; it will break his heart if he
learns my secret. He is so good. The children! Have pity on them at
least, sir, and do not betray me."
Jasper smiled, and Lucy became even more incoherent.
"Oh, sir," she cried, the tears streaming down her white face unheeded.
"I was so young, so giddy and thoughtless, and that man was so wicked.
He tempted me. Oh, Mr. Vermont, sir, I will pray every night for you as
I pray for John and my little ones, if you will but spare me and keep my
secret."
She might just as well have prayed to the wooden table, as expect any
mercy or pity from this man, to whom such abject misery was better than
meat and drink.
With a contemptuous gesture, as if to spurn her from his sight, he said:
"Get up, my good woman. I shall keep your secret as long as it pleases
me. Perhaps for ever, who can tell? Good John, simple John," he laughed
maliciously. "He little thinks his wife was given to taking trips to
Canterbury with handsome young men. There! There!" he added, as a moan
of anguish burst from the dry lips of the tortured woman. "That will do.
I shan't enlighten good kind John, as long as you do what I want. I need
a bed. I'm going to sleep here to-night. Hullo! who's that?" He broke
off suddenly, as Jessica, tired of waiting outside for his departure,
entered the room, her dark eyes dilated with anxiety.
She paused at the sound of his voice, and stared at him. She recognised
him as the man she had seen with Leroy, and some subtle instinct seemed
to tell her that he was evil. Jasper, too, stared at her uneasily. A
memory of another person, strangely like her, crossed his mind, but he
was too full of his knowledge concerning Leroy to consider any fresh
train of thought.
Mrs. Ashford hastily composed her features.
"Only a girl stopping here," she said hurriedly; then, turning to the
silent spectator, she said, "Go, my dear, I shall not want you at
present," and Jessica gladly left the room, while Jasper, taking her to
be a servant, gave no more thought to her.
"Now what about a room?" he said imperiously, as he took off his light
overcoat.
"You shall have the best, sir," replied Lucy, only too eager to
conciliate him. "Anything--everything we have is yours."
"Very kind of you, I'm sure," yawned Jasper. "Set about it then."
He was tired, for he had done a great deal of walking for him, who was
accustomed to use his own or his friend's motor for every journey, great
or small. Besides, he had somehow missed Adrien despite his care, and
was greatly puzzled and irritated.
He was turning to follow Lucy, when there came a sound of footsteps,
followed by another loud knock at the door, and a man's commanding
voice:
"Help! Quick here with a light!"
Lucy screamed, and Jasper Vermont turned rather pale, for he instantly
recognised the voice as that of the man he had sought so diligently all
that day. But he had no desire to be discovered just then, so, taking
the frightened woman almost savagely by the arm, he whispered fiercely:
"You may let him in--I know him. But if he finds out that I am here, I
will tell John all to-night; remember that. Hide me somewhere where I
can see--do you understand? Quick!"
The knocking commenced again, and under its cover, Lucy, trembling like
a leaf, opened a door, the upper part of which was glazed, and which led
from the small room to the kitchen. Into this ambush Mr. Vermont
hurried, while Lucy ran to the other door and threw it open to admit
Adrien Leroy, who staggered into the room with his dripping burden in
his arms.
"I'm sorry to knock you up," he said, trying to reassure her, "but this
lady is nearly dead; our boat upset."
"Bring her in here, sir," said the good little woman, her courage and
self-possession returning under the emergency. "She had better come up
to the bedroom, poor lady."
Adrien carried Eveline up the narrow staircase, followed by Lucy, who
had hastily produced some spirits with which to restore consciousness.
"You had better fetch a doctor, sir," she called after Adrien, as he
came down again.
Leroy hesitated. He knew that Lady Merivale valued her reputation more
than her life. To fetch a doctor might save the latter, but would most
certainly ruin the former; for no medical man would permit her to return
to London that night, and, in that case, discovery would be inevitable.
Troubled and worn with anxiety, he paced to and fro in the room behind
the shop, regardless of his own dripping clothes, while Jasper, behind
the little window curtain, watched him sardonically, his lips wreathed
in a smile. He was well content with this finish of his day's
holiday--if such it might be called; for he knew that he held Lady
Merivale in the hollow of his hand. She, who had sneered at his
position, while yet making every use of his services, would in the
future be but another of his puppets; and he foresaw a goodly profit
from the outlay of this day's time and money.
Presently Lucy ran down.
"Where's the doctor, sir?" she asked. "Oh, didn't you go after all?
Well, it doesn't matter, for the lady is alive and better."
"Thank Heaven!" ejaculated Leroy fervently.
"She says she doesn't need one."
"I understand," replied Adrien. "Is she well enough to sit up, or move?"
"Yes, sir--at least, she says so," answered Lucy. "She is changing her
clothes for some of mine, sir; and she says that if you get a
carriage--"
Adrien nodded.
"I understand," he said again. "Is there an inn near here where I can
hire one?"
"Oh, yes, sir," replied Lucy. She quickly directed him to the tiny river
hostel not far off, and Adrien disappeared.
Had it not been for that grim presence behind the door, whom, in her
excitement, she had nearly forgotten, Lucy would have wished John to
come home quickly; as it was, she trembled at every fresh sound as she
went upstairs again to her patient.
By means of that most potent magic--gold, Leroy quickly procured a
carriage, old and dusty; but a veritable thing of beauty in such a
strait as this. He meant to get to Hampton, and from there use his own
motor. He hastened back to the little shop, and, summoning Lucy, sent
her up with a message.
"Tell the lady," he said quickly, "I have a carriage waiting, and if she
is strong enough, we can start at once."
The news acted like a tonic; for in a marvellously short time Lady
Merivale, pale but resolute, came downstairs into the little
sitting-room.
She was wrapped up in shawls, and a long cloak covered her from head to
foot. Too upset to speak, she motioned with her hand to Adrien to open
the door; and, laying a ten-pound note on the table, he said a few words
of thanks to Lucy, then led the unhappy countess to the carriage.
No sooner had the horse started than her calmness gave way. She covered
her face with her hands and burst into tears.
"Adrien," she sobbed, "I am ruined."
"No," said Leroy reassuringly, "you are safe, now. This man is promised
ten pounds if he reaches Hampton in half an hour. My motor is waiting
there. I myself will drive you to Waterloo Station; there you can get a
taxi, without attracting any attention, and you will reach home before
ten. Your husband will think you stayed to dine with Lady Rose."
"But you--you!" she wailed, "Will you promise----"
"I," he said, with a laugh of scorn at her doubt of him. "This day of my
life is yours; none will ever hear from me how it was spent, and you
know it."
"You swear?"
"I give you my word," he said simply. "I can give no stronger oath than
that."
Lady Merivale sank back with a sigh of relief.
Alas! Leroy did not pause to reflect that, let happen what might, there
was one day of his life he could not account for--one whole day of which
he had sworn to keep silent.
Faster and faster went the great car, at a pace that would have shocked
chauffeur and policeman alike, but Leroy was reckless; a woman's honour
and his own were in imminent peril. Death were sweeter than his failure
to save it.
It was not much after nine when the car rolled into Waterloo Station,
and Leroy assisted his trembling companion to alight. Wrapped up in
Lucy's big coat, she stood quietly by while Leroy left his car in the
care of an outside porter, then led her apparently towards the booking
office. Passing through this, they manoeuvred to reach the outside,
where a taxi was hailed, and the address given.
Thankful at their escape, Leroy stood bareheaded till it disappeared in
the throng of vehicles; then he returned to his own motor, as he
thought, unseen and unnoticed.
Alas for his vain hopes! Miss Penelope and Constance, after a long day's
shopping, had come to Waterloo on their way back to Barminster. The
sharp eyes of Lady Constance, quickened by love, recognised the figure
of Adrien from afar; and, making some excuse to Miss Penelope, she
followed and watched the departure.
She did not recognise the lady, it is true; but she saw sufficient to
realise that her worst fears were fulfilled. Adrien had neglected her
letter for the sake of another woman.
Jasper waited patiently until the sound of the carriage wheels had died
away into the distance, then he came out of his hiding-place, his face
pale, his eyes shining.
"Lucy Ashford," he said, sinking into a chair, and holding up one finger
in solemn warning, "you may be asked some day to give an account of what
has taken place to-night. Remember this; you know nothing, you
recognised no one--till I give you leave. Disobey me, and the story of
your Canterbury trip becomes the property of the whole world. I'll
proclaim it through every newspaper in the world."
Trembling and crying, and too ignorant to realise the absurdity of this
threat, Lucy swore to be silent; and then, to her intense relief, Mr.
Vermont changed his mind as to staying the night, and announced his
decision of returning to London.