It was a strange day that followed. After much deliberation and a hard
struggle with her shrinking from such a proceeding, Rose resolved to
follow my advice, and make her confession to Mr Aslatt, trusting to
obtain his forbearance towards the chief delinquent. She went to him
in his library soon after breakfast, from which meal she had absented
herself on the plea of a headache, which was no mere excuse, but the
natural result of her violent weeping during the preceding night.
What passed at that interview I never knew. They were together for
more than an hour. At the end of that time I heard Rose come out
of the library and go slowly up-stairs. I followed her after a few
minutes, thinking she might need me; but as I ascended the stairs I
heard her hastily lock her door, as a security against intrusion.
Shortly afterwards, as I stood at the window, I saw Mr Aslatt leave the
house and cross the park in the direction in which the school-house
lay. Several hours passed. Mr Aslatt did not return, and Rose’s door
continued closed against me. I was beginning to feel anxious, when I
received a note from Mr Aslatt, brought to the house by one of the
school children, in which he briefly informed me that he was obliged to
make a hasty journey to London, and would not be home till night.
I saw nothing of Rose until the dinner-hour arrived, when we sat down
to table together. She strove hard to appear as usual during the
meal. Her dress manifested careful arrangement, and though her cheeks
were almost as pale as the white robe she wore, she looked strikingly
beautiful. As long as the servant remained in the room she talked
incessantly, and even laughed; but when there was no longer need to
keep up an appearance of cheerfulness, her manner changed. The troubled
look returned, and she grew painfully restless. The evening was
passed by her in wandering from room to room, unable to settle to any
occupation. Sometimes she took up a book, but only to throw it aside in
impatience the next moment and go to a window, to watch with growing
anxiety for Mr Aslatt’s return.
At last, when her endurance had been tried to the utmost, he came. I
was grieved to see the weary saddened look his face wore when he came
into the room where we both were. He seemed to have grown ten years
older in one day. Rose became paler than ever as he entered. She did
not move to meet him, but stood still, gazing at him with an eager
questioning glance. As he approached her, I slipped out of the room,
for I was sure they would wish to be alone.
The next day Mr Aslatt took me into his confidence, and freely
discussed with me the difficult position in which he found himself
placed in regard to Rose. Knowing her vehement attachment to Mr
Hammond, and having had a proof of the strength of her determination
to cling to him, he shrank from paining her, and perhaps driving her
to an undesirable course of action by refusing his consent to their
marriage; the more so that he had made inquiries, and discovered that
the assertion, which Rose so repeatedly made, namely that her lover
was by birth a gentleman, was quite correct. Mr Aslatt had had some
conversation with a solicitor, an elderly man, who was acquainted with
Mr Hammond’s family history, and who spoke of him as a singularly
unfortunate young man. His father had been a spendthrift man of
pleasure, who had squandered away all his property, and been forced to
sell the family estate whilst his son—whose mother had died in giving
him birth—was yet a child. The self-ruined man had then pursued a
disgraceful career of gambling, which had terminated in a premature
death. Neglected and uncared for during his father’s lifetime, the
boy was in a still more deplorable situation after his decease, and
would have fared ill, if the solicitor who had managed his father’s
affairs, hearing of his desolate condition, had not exerted himself to
procure the lad’s admission into an orphan asylum. Here he had received
a tolerable education; and at the close of his term of schooling a
place had been found for him as clerk in a merchant’s office. But the
occupation had not been to his taste, and at the end of a twelvemonth
he took offence at some trivial occurrence, and threw up his situation.
The gentleman who had told Mr Aslatt thus much was unable to say how Mr
Hammond had supported himself during the interval that had elapsed from
the time of his leaving the merchant’s office to the day when he sought
the post of village schoolmaster; but he believed he had resided abroad
during most of the time. He had brought Mr Aslatt credentials as to
his respectability and qualifications from the hand of a schoolmaster
living in the north of England. Pleased with the young man’s appearance
and bearing, Mr Aslatt had rather hastily concluded an engagement with
him, and had not deemed it necessary to make very particular inquiries
as to his antecedents. Now that he was anxious to learn more of the
young man’s previous history, he found, to his disappointment, that the
schoolmaster who had acted as referee had died but a few weeks before.
It may readily be imagined that Mr Aslatt was not satisfied with the
information he had gleaned. There was a period of Mr Hammond’s life
of which he knew nothing except that, from his own explanation, he
had supported himself during those years by giving English lessons in
schools and families in the neighbourhood of Berlin. Mr Aslatt felt
that he had no reasonable ground for doubting the truth of the young
man’s statement; yet in spite of his desire to be perfectly just,
he could not divest his mind of uncomfortable suspicions. Yet there
was nothing in the facts which he had learned which he could urge as
a reason why Rose should consent to give up all idea of marrying Mr
Hammond. The story of his unfortunate childhood and youth would but
excite her warmest pity, and incline her to cling to him with greater
devotion. Mr Aslatt was much perplexed how to act. He confessed to
me—little guessing how well I understood his words, having divined
his heart’s secret—that the thought of giving his ward to Mr Hammond
was inexpressibly painful to him, for of late he had conceived an
inexplicable aversion to the young man, and a feeling of distrust,
which had been strengthened by the discovery of the censurable manner
in which Mr Hammond had gained paramount influence over Rose. Yet he
shrank from the thought of blighting the girl’s whole life, as she had
passionately declared that he would, if he prevented her marrying the
man she loved.
I felt much for Mr Aslatt in the painful position in which he
was placed, and longed to help him, but knew not how. After some
deliberation, however, we decided upon a course of action which
seemed to us both the best possible under the circumstances. Without
absolutely opposing the union, Mr Aslatt determined to withhold his
formal consent for the space of twelve months, during which time the
young people should be allowed to meet at stated intervals, if they
would promise to abstain from all clandestine proceedings. At the
expiration of the year, if nothing had transpired to shake Mr Aslatt’s
confidence in the young schoolmaster, he pledged his word to consent
to his marriage with Rose, and to do all in his power to promote their
happiness. Meanwhile he proposed to find Mr Hammond some employment
more in keeping with the hopes he cherished than the post he had
previously held. It seemed to me that this was better treatment than
the young man deserved. But it was love for Rose that prompted the
arrangement, and a generous desire on her guardian’s part to shield her
from suffering even at the cost of bitter pain to himself.
Before our discussion terminated, Mr Aslatt confided to me the facts
concerning Rose’s parentage, which I have already related. He had never
yet told them to her, he said, fearing she would over-estimate her
obligation to him, which after all was merely imaginary, for whatever
kindness he had shewn her had been more than compensated for by the
happiness her companionship had brought him. In earlier days, when she
questioned him as to her parentage, he had told her that at some future
time she should know all; but of late she had made no inquiries, and he
had been reluctant to say anything which might disturb their pleasant
relations.
I told him that I thought she ought to know the history of her early
days.
‘Do you think so?’ he said. ‘But I could not tell her now. It would
seem as if I were trying to coerce her into acquiescence to my wishes
by revealing claims to her gratitude. No, no; I cannot tell her now.’
After a while he added: ‘I do not believe I shall ever tell her myself;
and yet she may ask me any day, and perhaps I ought not to keep her
in ignorance. If ever you think it well to tell her what I have told
you, Miss Bygrave, you have my permission to do so, but not at present.
And pray, never let her imagine that I have great claims upon her
gratitude.’
To make a long story short; the proposed arrangement was carried out.
Rose humbly and thankfully agreed to wait a year for her guardian’s
formal consent; and Mr Hammond made no objection, though it must
have been sorely against his will. Mr Aslatt succeeded in obtaining
a position in Somerset House for the young man, who was therefore
obliged to reside in London; though every fortnight he paid us a visit,
and stayed from Saturday evening till Monday morning at the Hall. Rose
always seemed to look forward with such eagerness to these fortnightly
visits that it must have been very painful for Mr Aslatt to witness
the delight she took in Mr Hammond’s society. But however bitter his
feelings were, he carefully concealed them, and ever treated the young
man with the utmost consideration and kindness. His manner to Rose
betrayed nought save the tenderness of a parent; and she on her part
no longer indulged in fits of petulance, but was gentle, subdued, and
affectionate in her intercourse with him. Indeed she had changed from
a wilful child to a thoughtful woman, since the memorable night when I
had saved her from committing a rash act. Mr Hammond’s demeanour also
had improved. He no longer bore himself haughtily, but strove by a
humble and becoming deportment to reinstate himself in Mr Aslatt’s good
opinion.
As time passed on I came to entertain for him a kindlier feeling,
though I could not anticipate with any pleasure the expiration of the
probationary period which rapidly drew nigh. Winter came and went;
spring returned to gladden the land; the summer months succeeded, and
it wanted but a few weeks to the day Rose was so eagerly expecting.
Mr Hammond was staying for a few days at the Hall, and one lovely
afternoon Rose proposed that we should ride over to Ashdene and spend
a few hours in wandering amongst the ruins. We all agreed to the
proposal, and were soon ready to start. On our way thither, Rose and Mr
Hammond took the lead, and Mr Aslatt and I followed a few paces behind.
It was becoming more and more difficult for Mr Aslatt to maintain a
cheerful demeanour. In Rose’s presence, he always made the effort, but
out of her sight he frequently fell into a gloomy mood. He scarcely
made a remark during our ride to Ashdene; and after a few attempts to
draw him into conversation, I left him to himself. Arrived at Ashdene,
we left our horses at the inn, and proceeded to the ruined Priory.
Rose was as gay as a bird that afternoon; her laugh rang through
the deserted corridors as she flitted from one part of the ruins to
another, followed by Mr Hammond.
I wandered away by myself, feeling sure that Mr Aslatt would not
require my company, and indeed would feel more at ease if left alone.
After a while I found myself within the four walls inclosing what had
once been the chapter-house. Glancing through a window much mutilated,
but rendered beautiful by the ivy which festooned its broken shafts
and crumbling arches, I perceived Rose and her lover sauntering over
the green turf, a few yards from the wall within which I stood. At the
same moment I became aware that I was not the only one observing them.
Close to where I stood, but on the other side of the wall, sheltered
from view on all sides save the one which I commanded, by the angle of
a projecting doorway, stood a woman. Her tall gaunt figure was clad in
a silk dress which had once been black, but was now rusty with age,
and frayed and torn with frequent wear. A bonnet of the same hue and
equally shabby, rested at the back of her head, and did not conceal the
thick black hair which fell loosely over her forehead. But I scarcely
noted her apparel at first, so much was I attracted by her strange
weird face. She was very pale, but her eyes were intensely bright with
a scorching burning brilliancy, which suggested the possibility of
madness. They were gleaming with hatred as I looked at her, for there
was no mistaking the expression of her white haggard countenance,
even if the angry tone in which she muttered to herself words that I
could not catch, and the clenched fist which she was shaking after the
retreating figures, had not revealed her mind. As I watched her in
considerable amazement and fear, she suddenly turned and beheld me.
For a few moments she returned my gaze defiantly, as if questioning my
right to watch her. Then moved by a sudden impulse, she advanced with
rapid strides to the window at which I stood, and laying her hand on
mine as it rested on the sill, demanded in a hoarse voice: ‘Who is the
young lady walking with that man?’ pointing as she spoke to the distant
pair.
‘I cannot answer that question,’ I replied, ‘unless you tell me what
reason you have for asking it.’
‘What reason?’ she repeated. ‘The most powerful of all reasons. But
tell me only this: does she think to marry him? _That_ at least I have
a right to know. Ah! you do not answer. You cannot deny it: I can
read the truth in your face. And so he intends to marry that pretty
fair-haired girl, does he? Ha, ha, ha!’ And she laughed a wild laugh,
which filled me with horror as I heard it.
‘Who are you?’ I exclaimed. ‘And what do you mean by such words?’
‘Who am I?’ she reiterated. ‘You shall know soon. I will tell you all,
but not now. _He_ must be by, or my revenge will not be complete. But
there is no time to lose.’ So saying, she walked hastily away, in
spite of my efforts to detain her, and quickly disappeared round the
corner of the chapter-house. In great consternation, I also quitted
the spot and hastened in search of my companions. I found them at no
great distance; Mr Aslatt, Rose, and Mr Hammond seated on some stones a
little way beyond the Priory, chatting together and looking out for me.
‘Where have you been?’ exclaimed Rose as I approached. ‘We were
beginning to fear you were lost.’
‘I think it is about time for us to return home,’ said Mr Aslatt, as he
looked at his watch.
‘I am quite ready,’ I replied; for I felt such dread of the strange
woman making her appearance, that I longed to get away from the place.
‘Oh, do not let us go yet!’ exclaimed Rose; ‘it is so delightful here.’
As she spoke she took off her hat, and the light evening breeze played
at will amongst her sunny tresses. Her face was radiant with happiness,
as all unsuspicious of coming woe she sat there; when suddenly a hand
was laid on her arm, and a low hoarse voice startled us all with the
words: ‘That man by your side is a liar, and a traitor, fair lady!’
It was the woman I had already seen. She had come through the ruin
behind us, and managed to approach unseen as we sat with our faces
turned in another direction. Had some explosive missile been suddenly
thrown into our midst it could not have produced greater consternation
than did these words. For a moment we were all speechless from
bewilderment. But the next, Rose recovered herself, and the blood
rushed in an angry torrent to her face, as shaking off the woman’s
hand, she exclaimed indignantly: ‘How dare you? What right have you to
say such words?’
‘The right of one who knows him far better than you can—_for he is my
husband!_’
‘It is false!’ broke from Rose’s quivering lips, as she turned
appealingly to Mr Hammond; but alas! his pallid face betrayed an
agitation which seemed to confirm the woman’s statement.
‘This woman is mad,’ he said, striving hard to maintain his composure.
But Rose heeded not his words. She knew intuitively that the worst
was true. Mr Aslatt was at her side in a moment, assuring her, as he
tenderly supported her fainting form, that she need not fear, for the
woman’s story should not be believed without full proof. But she made
no reply; indeed I doubt whether she heard what he said, for Nature
kindly came to her relief, and she sank into unconsciousness.