A WARNING.
We had heard nothing of Mr. Carmel's arrival. He had not passed our
windows, but drove up instead by the back avenue; and now he was gone,
and there remained no record of his visit but the letter which Laura
held in her fingers, while we both examined it on all sides, and turned
it over. It was directed, "To Miss Ware and Miss Grey. Malory." And when
we opened it we read these words:
"Dear Young Ladies,--I know a great deal of the gentleman who has
been permitted to take up his residence in the house adjoining
Malory. It is enough for me to assure you that no acquaintance
could be much more objectionable and unsafe, especially for young
ladies living alone as you do. You cannot, therefore, exercise too
much caution in repelling any advances he may make.--
Your true friend, "E. Carmel."
The shock of reading these few words prevented my speaking for some
seconds. I had perfect confidence in Mr. Carmel's warning. I was very
much frightened. And the vagueness of his language made it the more
alarming. The same thoughts struck us both. What fools we were! How is
he to be got out of the house? Whom have we to advise with? What is to
be done?
In our first panic we fancied that we had got a burglar or an assassin
under our roof. Mr. Carmel's letter, however, on consideration, did not
bear out quite so violent a conclusion. We resolved, of course, to act
upon that letter; and I blamed myself too late for having permitted the
stranger to make, even in so slight a way, my acquaintance.
In great trepidation, I despatched a note to Mrs. Jermyn, to say I could
not join her boating party. To the stranger I could send neither note
nor message. It did not matter. He would, of course, meet that lady at
the jetty, and there learn my resolve. Two o'clock arrived. Old Rebecca
came in, and told us that the gentleman in the steward's house had asked
her whether Mr. Carmel was gone; and on learning that he had actually
driven away, hardly waited till she was out of the room "to burst out
a-laughing," and talking to himself, and laughing like mad.
"And I don't think, with his laughing and cursing, he's like a man
should be that fears God, and is only a day or two out of the jaws of
death!"
This description increased our nervousness. Possibly this person was a
lunatic, whose keeper had been drowned in the Conway Castle. There was
no solution of the riddle which Mr. Carmel had left us to read, however
preposterous, that we did not try; none possible, that was not alarming.
About an hour after, passing through the hall, I saw some one, I
thought, standing outside, near the window that commands the steps
beside the door. This window has a wire-blind, through which, from
outside, it is impossible to see. From within, however, looking towards
the light, you can see perfectly. I scarcely thought our now distrusted
guest would presume to approach our door so nearly; but there he was. He
had mounted the steps, I suppose, with the intention of knocking, but he
was, instead, looking stealthily from behind the great elm that grows
close beside; his hand was leaning upon its trunk, and his whole
attention absorbed in watching some object which, judging from the
direction of his gaze, must have been moving upon the avenue. I could
not take my eyes off him. He was frowning, with compressed lips and eyes
dilated; his attitude betokened caution, and as I looked he smiled
darkly.
I recovered my self-possession. I took, directly, Doctor Mervyn's view
of that very peculiar smile. I was suddenly frightened. There was
nothing to prevent the formidable stranger from turning the handle of
the door and letting himself into the hall. Two or three light steps
brought me to the door, and I instantly bolted it. Then drawing back a
little into the hall, I looked again through the window, but the
intending visitor was gone.
Who had occupied his gaze the moment before? And what had determined the
retreat? It flashed upon me suddenly again that he might be one of those
persons who are described as "being known to the police," and that Mr.
Carmel had possibly sent constables to arrest him.
I waited breathlessly at the window, to see what would come of it. In a
minute more, from the direction in which I had been looking for a party
of burly policemen, there arrived only my fragile friend, Laura Grey,
who had walked down the road to see whether Mr. and Mrs. Jermyn were
coming.
Encouraged by this reinforcement, I instantly opened the hall-door, and
looked boldly out. The enemy had completely disappeared.
"Did you see him?" I exclaimed.
"See whom?" she asked.
"Come in quickly," I answered. And when I had shut the hall-door, and
again bolted it, I continued. "The man in the steward's house. He was on
the steps this moment."
"No, I did not see him; but I was not looking towards the hall-door. I
was looking up at the trees, counting the broken boughs--there are
thirteen trees injured on the right hand, as you come up."
"Well, I vote we keep the door bolted; he shan't come in here," said I.
"This is the second siege you and I have stood together in this house. I
do wish Mr. Carmel had been a little more communicative, but I scarcely
think he would have been so unfriendly as to leave us quite to ourselves
if he had thought him a highwayman, and certainly, if he is one, he is a
very gentleman-like robber."
"I think he can merely have meant, as he says, to warn us against making
his acquaintance," said Miss Grey; "his letter says only that."
"I wish Mr. Carmel would stay about home," I said, "or else that the
steward's house were locked up."
I suppose all went right about the boating party, and that Mrs. Jermyn
got my note in good time.
No one called at Malory; the dubious stranger did not invade our steps
again. We had constant intelligence of his movements from Rebecca
Torkill; and there was nothing eccentric or suspicious about them, so
far as we could learn.
Another evening passed, and another morning came; no letter by the post,
Rebecca hastened to tell us, for our involuntary guest; a certain sign,
she conjectured, that we were to have him for another day. Till money
arrived he could not, it was plain, resume his journey.
Doctor Mervyn told us, with his customary accuracy and plenitude of
information respecting other people's affairs, when he looked in upon
us, after his visit to his patient, that he had posted a letter the
morning after his arrival, addressed to Lemuel Blount, Esquire, 5,
Brunton Street, Regent's Park; and that on reference to the London
Directory, in the news-room, it was duly ascertained by the subscribers
that "Blount, Lemuel," was simply entered as "Esquire," without any
further clue whatsoever to guide an active-minded and inquiring
community to a conclusion. So there, for the present, Doctor Mervyn's
story ended.
Our panic by this time was very much allayed. The unobtrusive conduct of
the unknown, ever since his momentary approach to our side of the house,
had greatly contributed to this. I could not submit to a blockade of any
duration; so we took heart of grace, and ventured to drive in the little
carriage to Cardyllion, where we had some shopping to do.