FACING IT OUT.
MINA and Wilfred Marsden walked for some minutes together in silence;
she hoping that her brother would commence conversation, he not knowing
what to say. Wilfred had always been accustomed to show perfect candour
towards his sister. Though a few years younger than herself, he had
been her constant playmate and companion, sharing with her his hopes
and fears, and making her in all things his confidante and adviser.
This was the first time that the boy had possessed a secret which he
withheld from Mina, and if his silence was painful to her, it was yet
more burdensome to himself.
The maiden made one or two unsuccessful attempts to commence
conversation. Her observations called forth no reply from her brother,
and she was beginning to feel the restraint of his manner almost
intolerable, when, on turning a corner of the shrubbery, Wilfred gave a
start so sudden and violent that it was sympathetically communicated to
the sister whose arm was linked in his own.
"What is it?" exclaimed Mina, in alarm.
"He's digging near the cypress!" cried Wilfred.
The tone, not the sense of the exclamation, made the wondering girl
look in the same direction as did her brother, and she saw certainly
no cause either for surprise or apprehension in the familiar figure of
Joe, the gardener, bending over his spade. Wilfred, however, could not
conceal his nervous excitement, as he hastened up to the man.
"Why are you digging to-day," cried he, "when you ought to be stripping
the beds of flowers to deck the church and the Hall?"
"Miss Rosa said as how the ladies would gather the flowers themselves,"
replied Joe, passing his brown hand across his rough chin.
"You should make a triumphal arch, then," said Wilfred.
"Well, Master Wilfred, ye see, that's what all the school-children—"
"Who cares for the school-children?" exclaimed young Marsden, almost
stamping with irritation. "Such things are not to be left to them! This
is no time to be turning up the earth, like a mole! Leave your spade,
and go help in the preparations—no common work shall be done to-day."
Joe set his spade against the tree and slowly went away, wondering—if
his unimpressionable nature was capable of wonder—at the strangely
changed manner of the boy, who had usually a merry word and a kind
smile for the faithful old servant.
On turning round, Wilfred met his sister's distressed and anxious gaze;
a terrible idea had just flashed across her mind, that her brother's
brain might be affected.
"Why do you look at me so?" he said, sharply.
"I cannot help feeling uneasy, dear Wilfred; I cannot—"
"Oh, here's Edward Lyle coming to see what has become of his bride; I
leave you to his care," cried Wilfred, "he's a better companion than
I." And turning abruptly towards the Hall, the boy left his sister in
tears.
"I can't leave it there—no, no!" muttered Wilfred to himself as he
strode along. "I can't have a thrill of terror through my soul whenever
I see a man digging in the garden. What shall I do with that fatal
parchment? If fire can't burn it, if earth will not hide it, how shall
I cover my secret so closely as to lose this intolerable dread of its
being discovered at last? I will dig up the will as soon as darkness
sets in; I will carry it to the swift, deep stream which flows at the
bottom of the field, tie a heavy stone to it, and let the waters bury
it for ever. Yes, yes, I was insane not to think of this before. Would
that the night were come! I shall have no rest until I have drowned
the roll! I will not wait till the house is shut up; I will make my
escape after dinner; for twenty minutes I shall not be missed, and
twenty minutes will suffice for the deed. In the meantime, I must lull
suspicion by putting on my old cheerful manner. I must let no one
consider me strange; I must reassure the mind of sweet Mina; I must act
a lie!" Wilfred ground his teeth at the thought. "I must lay aside my
natural frankness and candour to wear the mask of deceit! And this is
the life-long task which I have imposed on myself. Oh, what a miserable
thing it is to wander from the straight path of duty!"
As Wilfred entered the Hall, he met his father accompanied by the very
last man whom young Marsden would have wished at that moment to see—his
injured cousin, Tom Benson!
Mr. Benson was a thin, sickly-looking man, with a stoop. A long
struggle with difficulties and cares, which weak health and feeble
spirits had rendered more hard, had left the stamp on his features of
almost peevish melancholy. There were lines on his face and furrows
on his brow which, however, on the present auspicious occasion, were
rather less marked than usual; and though his smile was of a sickly
character, there was still an attempt to smile. Mr. Benson bore a
reputation for narrowness of mind and penuriousness of nature, which
had rendered him an object of contempt to Wilfred, who had prided
himself on generosity and delicate sense of honour.
But what a change the last twelve hours had wrought in the feelings of
the youth! But the day before, it would have been impossible to have
persuaded Wilfred Marsden that he could ever be abashed and humbled by
the presence of his cousin, that he could ever be ashamed to look that
man in the face, or feel a pang of remorse at shaking him by the hand!
"Our cousin has walked over all the way from Thornley to see our dear
bride," said Mr. Marsden, "and has kindly brought her strawberries
which have been gathered from his own garden."
"Poor things, poor things!" said Mr. Benson apologetically. "I am
my own gardener, as you know. And how have you been?" he continued,
addressing himself to Wilfred. "It does not seem to me that you are
looking as well as usual."
"I do not think that Wilfred is very well," said Mr. Marsden, struck,
as the visitor had been, by the haggard looks of his boy.
"Too much bustle for him, too much excitement; he feels parting with
his sister," observed Benson. "You must let him, when all is over, come
to me for a change. I've not much to offer, to be sure, but the air is
counted fine at Thornley."
"Your cousin is very kind," said Mr. Marsden to Wilfred, whose silence
he mistook for rudeness.
"Too kind," faltered the boy; and his words had a depth of meaning
which his hearers little understood.
"Shall we join the party on the lawn?" said Mr. Marsden. "I heard
something said about archery."
The three proceeded to the place where the guests were assembled in
front of the target, amusing themselves by shooting.
Wilfred at once commenced following out his resolution of lulling any
suspicions which his strange demeanour might have excited, by assuming
gaiety of manner. He almost over-acted his part. Amidst his cheerful
companions, none was so uproariously merry as he. He jested with the
bridesmaids, whistled, sang, readily joined in amusements, and though
he did not shoot with a steady hand, when his arrows went wide of the
mark, none laughed so loudly as Wilfred. He was making a desperate
effort not only to deceive those around him, but to drown in wild
excitement the misery which he felt. He would give himself no time for
thought; he would intoxicate himself with amusement! Wretched resource
of the worldly, who seek to fly from themselves, and gild the fetters
which they cannot throw off, in hopes of forgetting their weight.
There were but two of those around him whose society Wilfred
instinctively shunned.
He could not bear to be near the relative whom he was defrauding of his
rights, and he avoided all converse with Rosa with a kind of intuitive
dread. Wilfred knew that he had offended the young lady; he believed
that he had drawn upon himself both her suspicion and dislike; he
felt that she was watching him, and, though at present forbearing to
question, was intent upon discovering his secret.
With these two exceptions, Wilfred chatted freely with all the guests
of his father. He even, in conversation with Sophia, purposely entered
on the subject of the oak room, and forced himself to assure her, with
a smiling face, that he had not seen the shadow of a ghost. He had,
however, he said, found the chamber oppressively hot, and had taken the
simplest means of getting fresh air without disturbing the house.
So passed the day before the wedding until the dinner-hour arrived.
The afternoon had been rainy, and archery had been exchanged for
in-door amusements. Wilfred had been the life and soul of the party at
the bagatelle-table and the round game, and had shown indefatigable
energy in decorating the Hall. Yet Mina's heart was not at rest; she
suspected that her brother's mirth was assumed, and that his jests
and laughter were no true tokens of a light and buoyant heart. Even
with her betrothed at her side, the young maiden's spirit was troubled
on account of her brother. It pained Mina to notice at dinner that,
though Wilfred's usual beverage was water, he filled and refilled his
glass of wine, and pledged the bride and bridesmaids with loud and
boisterous mirth. Mina gave the signal to leave the table earlier than
she otherwise would have done, and the gentlemen immediately followed
the ladies.
Wilfred watched for an opportunity of stealing away from the party.
The arrival and unpacking of the grand cake from London, which had
come so late that fears had been entertained lest the splendour of the
wedding-breakfast should be marred by its non-appearance, gave the
opportunity required. While the party gathered around the box, whose
contents were of so interesting a nature, Wilfred glided silently away,
unnoticed, as he thought, by all; he knew not that a pair of sharp
black eyes were watching every movement; keen as hound on a scent was
curiosity in the bosom of Rosa May.