A THREAT.
To Finella, so pure in mind and proud in spirit, it was fast becoming
utterly intolerable to find herself in the false and degraded
position the craft of Shafto had placed her in with regard to so
honourable a man as Vivian Hammersley; and the more she brooded over
it, the deeper became her loathing of the daring trickster--a
sentiment which she was, by the force of circumstances, compelled to
veil and conceal from her guardians: hence, the more bitter her
thoughts, the more passionate her longing for an explanation, and
more definite her wishes.
Hammersley, though still a fact, seemed somehow to have passed out of
her life, and thus she often said in a kind of wailing way to Dulcie:
'Oh, that he had never come here, or that I had never known or met
him, in London or anywhere else! Then I should not have felt what it
is to love and to lose him!'
'Pardon me, darling, but take courage,' replied Dulcie, caressing
her. 'I have written to Florian at last, and his reply will tell us
all about Captain Hammersley, and how he is looking, and so forth;
though Florian, in a position so subordinate, cannot be in his
confidence, of course.'
She did not add that she had in her letter told the whole story of
the false position in which Finella had been placed, lest the
latter's pride might revolt at such interference in her affairs,
however well and kindly meant; and lest the letter--if it proved
disappointing, by her lover remaining jealous, suspicious, obdurate,
or contemptuous, if Florian ventured to speak on the subject, which
she scarcely hoped--should prove a useless humiliation to Finella,
who longed eagerly as herself for the reply.
But Dulcie prayed in her simple heart that good might come of it
before the evil which she so nervously dreaded fell upon herself; for
Shafto had made such humble apologies for his conduct to her on the
day he interrupted her when feeding the swans, that, though she gave
him her hand in token, not of forgiveness but of truce, she feared he
was concocting fresh mischief; for soon after, encouraged thereby, he
began his old persecution, but carefully and in secret again.
Finding that his chances with Finella were now apparently _nil_, even
though all seemed at an end between her and Vivian Hammersley,
Shafto, by force of old habit, perhaps, turned his attention to
Dulcie, who, in her humble and dependent capacity, had a difficult
card to play, while feeling exasperated and degraded by the passion
he expressed for her on every available opportunity. Not that he
would, she suspected, have married a poor girl like her, as one with
money, no matter who, was the wisest match for him, lest the
discovery of who he was came to pass, though that he deemed
impossible now.
Shafto had learned and imitated much among the new and aristocratic
folks in whose circle he found himself cast; and thus it was that he
dared to make secret love, and to torment the helpless Dulcie with
words that spoke of--
'Riches and love and pleasure,
And all but the name of wife.'
Had he done that, she would have treated him quite as coldly and
scornfully; but she could do no more than she did. Yet he was fast
making her life at Craigengowan a torture, and she feared him almost
more than his so-called grandmother, who was only a proud and selfish
patrician, while he--ah, she knew too well what he was capable of;
but Dulcie had something more to learn yet.
One day, after having imbibed more wine, or _eau-de-vie_, than was
good for him in Mr. Grapeston's pantry, as he sometimes did, he
addressed the girl in a way there was no misunderstanding. She
trembled and grew pale.
'Well, one thing I promise you if you try to please me,' said he--'to
_please_ me, do you understand?--while you remain under this roof,
which I hope, darling, will not be long now--I shall trouble you no
more.'
'To please you, Shafto!' stammered the girl; 'what _do_ you mean?'
'I'll tell you that by-and-by, my pretty Dulcie, when the time comes.'
She drew back with a pallid face and a hauteur that would have become
Lady Fettercairn herself, while he in turn made her a low mock bow,
and stalked tipsily off with what he thought a dignity of bearing,
leaving her sick with terror of a future of insult and apprehension.
Somehow she felt at his mercy, and began to contemplate flight, but
to where?
Watching closely, Lady Fettercairn observed the extreme caution and
coldness of Dulcie's bearing to Shafto; but, not believing in it, or
that a person in her dependent state could resist advances of any
kind from one in his lofty position, supposed she had only to wait
long enough and observe with care to find out if aught was wrong.
'But why wait?' said Lady Drumshoddy; 'why not dismiss the creature
at once?' she added with asperity.
'How comes it that you are so intimate with this girl Carlyon?' said
Lady Fettercairn one day.
'Your companion?' said Shafto.
'Yes.'
'How often have I told you that we are old friends--knew each other
in Devonshire since we were a foot high.'
'But this intimacy now is--to say the least of it,
Shafto--undignified.'
'I am sorry you think so.'
'Besides, she has a lover, I believe, whose likeness she wears in a
locket; and though she may be content to throw him over for rank and
wealth with you, surely you would not care to receive a second-hand
affection.'
'How your tongue goes on, grandmother!' said Shafto, greatly
irritated; 'you are like Finella's pad Fern when it gets the bit
between its teeth.'
'Thank you! But this lover or cousin, or whatever he is, of whom
Miss Carlyon actually once spoke to me--who is he, and where is he?'
'How the deuce should I know!' exclaimed Shafto, growing pale; 'gone
to the dogs, I suppose, as I always thought he would.'
'It was of him that madwoman spoke?'
'Yes, Madelon Galbraith. He was named Florian after his _aunt_.'
'Miss MacIan.'
That was enough for Lady Fettercairn, who, dropping that subject,
returned with true feminine persistence to the other.
'I don't like this sort of thing, I repeat, Shafto.'
'What sort of thing?'
'This secret flirting with my companion, Miss Carlyon.'
'I don't flirt with her; and, by Jove, he'd be a pretty clever fellow
who could do so.'
'Why?'
'She is so devilish stand-off, grandmother.'
'I am truly glad to hear it.'
'But can't I talk with her? We are old acquaintances, and have
naturally much to say to each other.'
'Too much, I fear. You may talk, as you say, but not hover about
her.'
'Anything more?' asked Shafto rudely.
'Yes, I wish you to settle down----'
'Oh! and marry Finella?'
'Yes, that you know well, dear Shafto,' said the lady coaxingly.
'Oh, by Jove! that is easier said than done. You don't know all the
outs and ins of Finella; and one can't walk the course, so far as I
can see.'
Shafto withdrew, but not before he saw the lace-edged handkerchief
come into use, to hide the tears she did not shed at the brusque
manner of her 'grandson,' who had failed to convince her, for she
said to herself bitterly:
'There is a curse upon Craigengowan! Our youngest son threw himself
and his life away upon a beggarly governess; and now our only
grandson seems likely to play the same game with my upstart
companion! I _do_ like the girl, but, however, I must get rid of
her.'