A DANGEROUS PROMISE.
During Ezra Girdlestone's absence in Africa our heroine's life had been
even less eventful than of old. There was a consistency about the
merchant's establishment which was characteristic of the man. The house
itself was austere and gloomy, and every separate room, in spite of
profuse expenditure and gorgeous furniture, had the same air of
discomfort. The servants too, were, with one single exception, from the
hard-visaged housekeeper to the Calvinistic footman, a depressing and
melancholy race. The only departure from this general rule was Kate's
own maid, Rebecca Taylforth, a loudly-dressed, dark-eyed, coarse-voiced
young woman, who raised up her voice and wept when Ezra departed for
Africa. This damsel's presence was most disagreeable to Kate, and,
indeed, to John Girdlestone also, who only retained her on account of
his son's strong views upon the subject, and out of fear of an explosion
which might wreck all his plans.
The old merchant was Kate's only companion during this period, and their
conversation was usually limited to a conventional inquiry at breakfast
time as to each other's health. On his return from the City in the
evening Girdlestone was always in a moody humour, and would eat his
dinner hastily and in silence. After dinner he was in the habit of
reading methodically the various financial articles in the day's papers,
which would occupy him until bedtime. Occasionally his companion would
read these aloud to him, and such was the monotony of her uneventful
life that she found herself becoming insensibly interested in the
fluctuations of Grand Trunk scrip or Ohio and Delaware shares.
The papers once exhausted, a bell was rung to summon the domestics, and
when all were assembled the merchant, in a hard metallic voice, read
through the lesson for the day and the evening prayers. On grand
occasions he supplemented this by a short address, in the course of
which he would pelt his frightened audience with hard jagged texts until
he had reduced them to a fitting state of spiritual misery. No wonder
that, under the influence of such an existence, the roses began to fade
from his ward's cheeks, and her youthful heart to grow sad and heavy.
One daily tonic there was, however, which never deserted her.
Strictly as Girdlestone guarded her, and jealously as he fenced her off
from the outer world, he was unable to prevent this one little ray of
light penetrating her prison. With an eye to the future he had so
placed her that it seemed to him to be impossible that any sympathy
could reach her from the outside world. Visits and visitors were alike
forbidden to her. On no consideration was she to venture out alone.
In spite of all his precautions, however, love has many arts and wiles
which defy all opposition, and which can outplot the deepest of
plotters.
Eccleston Square was by no means in a direct line between Kensington and
the City, yet morning and evening, as sure as the clock pointed to
half-past nine and to quarter to six, Tom would stride through the
old-fashioned square and past the grim house, whose grimness was
softened to his eyes through its association with the bright dream of
his life. It was but the momentary glance of a sweet face at the upper
window and a single wave of a white hand, but it sent him on with a
fresh heart and courage, and it broke the dull monotony of her dreary
life.
Occasionally, as we have seen, he even managed to find his way into the
interior of this ogre's castle, in which his fair princess was immured.
John Girdlestone put an end to this by ordering that business messages
should never under any circumstances be conveyed to his private
residence. Nothing daunted, however, the lovers soon devised another
means of surmounting the barrier which divided them.
The centre of the square was taken up by a garden, rectangular and
uninviting, fenced round with high forbidding walls which shut out all
intruders and gave the place a resemblance to the exercise ground of a
prison. Within the rails were clumps of bushes, and here and there a
few despondent trees drooped their heads as though mourning over the
uncongenial site in which they had been planted. Among these trees and
bushes there were scattered seats, and the whole estate was at the
disposal of the inhabitants of Eccleston Square, and was dignified by
the name of the Eccleston Gardens. This was the only spot in which Kate
was trusted without the surveillance of a footman, and it was therefore
a favourite haunt of hers, where she would read or work for hours under
the shelter of the scanty foliage.
Hence it came about that one day, as Thomas Dimsdale was making his way
Cityward at a rather earlier hour than was customary with him, he missed
the usual apparition at the window. Looking round blankly in search of
some explanation of this absence, he perceived in the garden a pretty
white bonnet which glinted among the leaves, and on closer inspection a
pair of bright eyes, which surveyed him merrily from underneath it.
The gate was open, and in less time than it takes to tell it the
sacrilegious feet of the young man had invaded the sacred domains
devoted to the sole use and behoof of the Ecclestonians. It may be
imagined that he was somewhat late at the office that morning and on
many subsequent mornings, until the clerks began to think that their new
employer was losing the enthusiasm for business which had possessed him.
Tom frequently begged permission to inform Mr. Girdlestone of his
engagement, but Kate was inflexible upon that point. The fact is, that
she knew her guardian's character very much better than her lover did,
and remembering his frequent exhortations upon the subject of the vanity
and wickedness of such things, she feared the effects of his anger when
he learned the truth. In a year or so she would be of age and her own
mistress, but at present she was entirely in his power. Why should she
subject herself to the certainty of constant harshness and unkindness
which would await her? Had her guardian really fulfilled the functions
of a father towards her he would have a right to be informed, but as it
was she felt that she owed him no such duty. She therefore made up her
mind that he should know nothing of the matter; but the fates
unfortunately willed otherwise.
It chanced that one morning the interview between the lovers had lasted
rather longer than usual, and had been concluded by Kate's returning to
the house, while Tom remained sitting upon the garden seat lost in such
a reverie as affects men in his position. While thus pleasantly
employed, his thoughts were suddenly recalled to earth by the appearance
of a dark shadow on the gravel in front of him, and looking up he saw
the senior partner standing a short distance away and regarding him with
anything but an amiable expression upon his face. He had himself been
having a morning stroll in the garden, and had overseen the whole of the
recent interview without the preoccupied lovers being aware of his
presence.
"Are you coming to the office?" he asked sternly. "If so, we can go
together."
Tom rose and followed him out of the gardens without a word. He knew
from the other's expression that all was known to him, and in his heart
he was not sorry. His only fear was that the old man's anger might fall
upon his ward and this he determined to prevent. They walked side by
side as far as the station in complete silence, but on reaching
Fenchurch Street Girdlestone asked his young partner to step into his
private sanctum.
"Now, sir," he said, as he closed the door behind him "I think that I
have a right to inquire what the meaning may be of the scene of which I
was an involuntary witness this morning?"
"It means," Tom answered firmly but gently, "that I am engaged to Miss
Harston, and have been for some time."
"Oh, indeed," Girdlestone answered coldly, sitting down at his desk and
turning over the pile of letters.
"At my request," said Tom, "our engagement was kept from your knowledge.
I had reason to believe that you objected to early engagements, and I
feared that ours might be disagreeable to you." I trust that the
recording angel will not register a very black mark against our friend
for this, the one and only falsehood that ever passed his lips.
During the long silent walk the merchant had been revolving in his mind
what course he should pursue, and he had come to the conclusion that it
was more easy to guide this impetuous stream of youth than to attempt to
stem it. He did not realize the strength of the tie that bound these
two young people together, and imagined that with judgment and patience
it might yet be snapped. It was, therefore, with as good an imitation
of geniality as his angular visage would permit of that he answered his
companion's confession.
"You can hardly wonder at my being surprised," he said. "Such a thing
never entered my mind for a moment. You would have done better to have
confided in me before."
"I must ask your pardon for not having done so."
"As far as you are concerned," said John Girdlestone affably, "I
believe you to be hard-working and right-principled. Your conduct since
you have joined the firm has been everything which I could desire."
Tom bowed his acknowledgments, much pleased by this preamble.
"With regard to my ward," continued the senior partner, speaking very
slowly and evidently weighing his words, "I could not wish her to have a
better husband. In considering such a question I have, however, as you
may imagine, to consult above everything else the wishes of my dead
friend, Mr. John Harston, the father of the young lady to whom you say
that you are engaged. A trust has been reposed in me, and that trust
must, of course, be fulfilled to the letter."
"Certainly," said Tom, wondering in his own mind how he could ever have
brought himself for one moment to think evil of this kindly and
righteous old man.
"It was one of Mr. Harston's most clearly expressed wishes that no words
or even thoughts of such matters should be allowed to come in his
daughter's way until she had attained maturity, by which he meant the
age of one-and-twenty."
"But he could not foresee the circumstances," Tom pleaded. "I am sure
that a year or so will make no difference in her sentiments in this
matter."
"My duty is to carry out his instructions to the letter. I won't say,
however," continued Mr. Girdlestone, "that circumstances might not arise
which might induce me to shorten this probationary period. If my
further acquaintance with you confirms the high impression which I now
have of your commercial ability, that, of course, would have weight with
me; and, again, if I find Miss Harston's mind is made up upon the point,
that also would influence my judgment."
"And what are we to do in the mean time?" asked the junior partner
anxiously.
"In the mean time neither you nor your people must write to her, or
speak to her, or hold any communication with her whatever. If I find
you or them doing so, I shall be compelled in justice to Mr. Harston's
last request to send her to some establishment abroad where she shall be
entirely out of your way. My mind is irrevocably made up upon that
point. It is not a matter of personal inclination, but of conscience."
"And how long is this to last?" cried Tom.
"It will depend upon yourselves. If you prove yourself to be a man of
honour in this matter, I may be inclined to sanction your addresses.
In the mean time you must give me your word to let it rest, and neither
to attempt to speak to Miss Harston, nor to see her, nor to allow your
parents to communicate with her. The last condition may seem to you to
be hard, but, in my eyes, it is a very important one. Unless you can
bring yourself to promise all this, my duty will compel me to remove my
ward entirely out of your reach, a course which would be painful to her
and inconvenient to myself."
"But I must let her know of this arrangement. I must tell her that you
hold out hopes to us on condition that we keep apart for a time."
"It would be cruel not to allow you to do that," Girdlestone answered.
"You may send her _one_ letter, but remember there shall be no reply to
it."
"Thank you, sir; thank you!" Tom cried fervently. "I have something to
live for now. This separation will but make our hearts grow fonder.
What change can time make in either of us?"
"Quite so," said John Girdlestone, with a smile. "Remember there must
be no more walking through the square. You must remain absolutely apart
if you wish to gain my consent."
"It is hard, very, very hard. But I will promise to do it. What would
I not promise which would lead to our earlier union?"
"That is settled then. In the mean time, I should be obliged if you
would go down to the docks and look after the loading of the
transferable corrugated iron houses for New Calabar."
"All right, sir, and thank you for your kindness," said Tom, bowing
himself out. He hardly knew whether to be pleased or grieved over the
result of his interview; but, on the whole, satisfaction prevailed,
since at the worst it was but to wait for a year or so, while there
seemed to be some hopes of gaining the guardian's consent before that.
On the other hand, he had pledged himself to separate from Kate; but
that would, he reflected, only make their re-union the sweeter.
All the morning he was engaged in superintending the stowing of great
slabs of iron in the capacious hold of the _Maid of Athens_. When the
hour of luncheon arrived no thought of food was in the lad's head, but,
burying himself in the back parlour of a little Blackwall public-house,
he called for pen, ink, and paper, and proceeded to indite a letter to
his sweetheart. Never was so much love and comfort and advice and hope
compressed into the limits of four sheets of paper or contained in the
narrow boundary of a single envelope. Tom read it over after he had
finished, and felt that it feebly expressed his thoughts; but, then,
what lover ever yet did succeed in getting his thoughts satisfactorily
represented upon paper. Having posted this effusion, in which he had
carefully explained the conditions imposed upon him, Tom felt
considerably more light-hearted, and returned with renewed vigour to the
loading of the corrugated iron. He would hardly have felt so satisfied
had he seen John Girdlestone receiving that same letter from the hands
of the footman, and reading it afterwards in the privacy of his bedroom
with a sardonic smile upon his face. Still less contented would he have
been had he beheld the merchant tearing it into small fragments and
making a bonfire of it in his capacious grate. Next morning Kate looked
in vain out of the accustomed window, and was sore at heart when no tall
figure appeared in sight and no friendly hand waved a morning
salutation.