A STRANGER APPEARS.
Next day Miss Grey and I were walking on the lonely road towards
Penruthyn Priory. The sea lies beneath it on the right, and on the left
is an old grass-grown bank, shaggy with brambles. Round a clump of
ancient trees that stand at a bend of this green rampart, about a
hundred steps before us, came, on a sudden, Mr. Carmel, and a man
dressed also in black, slight, but not so tall as he. They were walking
at a brisk pace, and the stranger was talking incessantly to his
companion.
That did not prevent his observing us, for I saw him slightly touch Mr.
Carmel's arm with his elbow as he looked at us. Mr. Carmel evidently
answered a question, and, as he did so, glanced at us; and immediately
the stranger resumed his conversation. They were quickly up to us, and
stopped. Mr. Carmel raised his hat, and asked leave to introduce his
friend. We bowed, so did the stranger; but Mr. Carmel did not repeat his
name very distinctly.
This friend was far from prepossessing. He was of middle height, and
narrow-shouldered, what they call "putty-faced," and closely shorn, the
region of the beard and whisker being defined in smooth dark blue. He
looked about fifty. His movements were short and quick, and restless; he
rather stooped, and his face and forehead inclined as if he were looking
on the ground. But his eyes were not upon the ground; they were very
fierce, but seldom rested for more than a moment on any one object. As
he made his bow, raising his hat from his massive forehead, first to me,
and afterwards to Miss Grey, his eyes, compressed with those wrinkles
with which near-sighted people assist their vision, scrutinised us each
with a piercing glance under his black eyebrows. It was a face at once
intellectual, mean, and intimidating.
"Walking; nothing like walking, in moderation. You have boating here
also, and you drive, of course; which do you like best, Miss Ware?" The
stranger spoke with a slightly foreign accent, and, though he smiled,
with a harsh and rapid utterance.
I forget how I answered this, his first question--rather an odd one. He
turned and walked a little way with us.
"Charming country. Heavenly weather. But you must find it rather lonely,
living down here. How you must both long for a week in London!"
"For my part, I like this better," I answered. "I don't like London in
summer, even in winter I prefer this."
"You have lived here with people you like, I dare say, and for their
sakes you love the place?" he mused.
We walked on a little in silence. His words recalled darling Nelly. This
was our favourite walk long ago; it led to what we called the blackberry
wilderness, rich in its proper fruits in the late autumn, and in May
with banks all covered with cowslips and primroses. A sudden thought,
that finds simple associations near, is affecting, and my eyes filled
with tears. But with an effort I restrained them. The presence of a
stranger, the sense of publicity, seals those fountains. How seldom
people cry at the funerals of their beloved! They go through the public
rite like an execution, pale and collected, and return home to break
their hearts alone.
"You have been here some months, Miss Grey. You find Miss Ware a very
amenable pupil, I venture to believe. I think I know something of
physiognomy, and I may congratulate you on a very sweet and docile
pupil, eh?"
Laura Grey, governess as she was, looked a little haughtily at this
officious gentleman, who, as he put the question, glanced sharply for a
moment at her, and then as rapidly at me, as if to see how it told.
"I think--I hope we are very happy together," said Miss Grey. "I can
answer for myself."
"Precisely what I expected," said the stranger, taking a pinch of snuff.
"I ought to mention that I am a very particular acquaintance, friend I
may say, of Mrs. Ware, and am, therefore, privileged."
Mr. Carmel was walking beside his friend in silence, with his eyes
apparently lowered to the ground all this time.
My blood was boiling with indignation at being treated as a mere child
by this brusque and impertinent old man. He turned to me.
"I see, by your countenance, young lady, that you respect authority. I
think your governess is very fortunate; a dull pupil is a bad bargain,
and you are not dull. But a contumacious pupil is utterly intolerable;
you are not that, either; you are sweetness and submission itself, eh?"
I felt my cheeks flushing, and I directed on him a glance which, if the
fire of ladies' eyes be not altogether a fable, ought at least to have
scorched him.
"I have no need of submission, sir. Miss Grey does not think of
exercising authority over me. I shall be eighteen my next birthday. I
shall be coming out, papa says, in less than a year. I am not treated
like a child any longer, sir. I think, Laura, we have walked far enough.
Hadn't we better go home? We can take a walk another time--any time
would be pleasanter than now."
Without waiting for her answer, I turned, holding my head very high,
breathing quickly, and feeling my cheeks in a flame.
The odious stranger, nothing daunted by my dignified resentment, smiled
shrewdly, turned about quite unconcernedly, and continued to walk by my
side. On my other side was Laura Grey, who told me afterwards that she
greatly enjoyed my spirited treatment of his ill-breeding.
She walked by my side, looking straight before her, as I did. Out of the
corners of my eyes I saw the impudent old man marching on as if quite
unconscious, or, at least, careless of having given offence. Beyond him
I saw, also, in the same oblique way, Mr. Carmel, walking with downcast
eyes as before.
He ought to be ashamed, I thought, of having introduced such a person.
I had not time to think a great deal, before the man of the harsh voice
and restless eyes suddenly addressed me again.
"You are coming out, you say, Miss Ware, when you are eighteen?"
I made him no answer.
"You are now seventeen, and a year intervenes," he continued, and
turning to Mr. Carmel, "Edwyn, run you down to the house, and tell the
man to put my horse to."
So Mr. Carmel crossed the stile at the road-side, and disappeared by the
path leading to the stables of Malory. And then turning again to me, the
stranger said:
"Suppose your father and mother have placed you in my sole charge, with
a direction to remove you from Malory, and take you under my immediate
care and supervision, to-day; you will hold yourself in readiness to
depart immediately, attended by a lady appointed to look after you, with
the approbation of your parents--eh?"
"No, sir, I'll not go. I'll remain with Miss Grey. I'll not leave
Malory," I replied, stopping short, and turning towards him. I felt
myself growing very pale, but I spoke with resolution.
"You'll not? what, my good young lady, not if I show you your father's
letter?"
"Certainly not. Nothing but violence shall remove me from Malory, until
I see papa himself. He certainly would not do anything so cruel!" I
exclaimed, while my heart sank within me.
He studied my face for a moment with his dark and fiery eyes.
"You are a spirited young lady; a will of your own!" he said. "Then you
won't obey your parents?"
"I'll do as I have said," I answered, inwardly quaking.
He addressed Miss Grey now.
"You'll make her do as she's ordered?" said this man, whose looks seemed
to me more sinister every moment.
"I really can't. Besides, in a matter of so much importance, I think she
is right not to act without seeing her father, or, at least, hearing
directly from him."
"Well, I must take my leave," said he. "And I may as well tell you it is
a mere mystification; I have no authority, and no wish to disturb your
stay at Malory; and we are not particularly likely ever to meet again;
and you'll forgive an old fellow his joke, young ladies?"
With these brusque and eccentric sentences, he raised his hat, and with
the activity of a younger man, ran up the bank at the side of the road;
and, on the summit, looked about him for a moment, as if he had
forgotten us altogether; and then, at his leisure, he descended at the
other side and was quite lost to view.
Laura Grey and I were both staring in the direction in which he had just
disappeared. Each, after a time, looked in her companion's face.
"I almost think he's mad!" said Miss Grey.
"What could have possessed Mr. Carmel to introduce such a person to us?"
I exclaimed. "Did you hear his name?" I asked, after we had again looked
in the direction in which he had gone, without discovering any sign of
his return.
"Droqville, I think," she answered.
"Oh! Laura, I am so frightened! Do you think papa can really intend any
such thing? He's too kind. I am sure it is a falsehood."
"It is a joke, he says himself," she answered. "I can't help thinking a
very odd joke, and very pointless; and one that did not seem to amuse
even himself."
"Then you do not think it is true?" I urged, my panic returning.
"Well, I can't think it is true, because, if it were, why should he say
it was a joke? We shall soon know. Perhaps Mr. Carmel will enlighten
us."
"I thought he seemed in awe of that man," I said.
"So did I," answered Miss Grey. "Perhaps he is his superior."
"I'll write to-day to papa, and tell him all about it; you shall help
me; and I'll implore of him not to think of anything so horrible and
cruel."
Laura Grey stopped short, and laid her hand on my wrist for a moment,
thinking.
"Perhaps it would be as well if we were to turn about and walk a little
further, so as to give him time to get quite away."
"But if he wants to take me away in that carriage, or whatever it is,
he'll wait any time for my return."
"So he would; but the more I think over it, the more persuaded I am that
there is nothing in it."
"In any case, I'll go back," I said. "Let us go into the house and lock
the doors; and if that odious Mr. Droqville attempts to force his way
in, Thomas Jones will knock him down; and we'll send Anne Owen to
Cardyllion, for Williams, the policeman. I hate suspense. If there is to
be anything unpleasant, it is better to have it decided, one way or
other, as soon as possible."
Laura Grey smiled, and spoke merrily of our apprehensions; but I don't
think she was quite so much at ease as she assumed to be.
Thus we turned about, I, at least, with a heart thumping very fast; and
we walked back towards the old house of Malory, where, as you have this
moment heard, we had made up our minds to stand a siege.