There was no hesitation on the part of Kate Wilton. The dread was gone,
and she rapidly drew up the blind and opened the casement window.
"You?" she said quickly, as she held out her hands, which were caught at
once and held.
"Yes; who should it be, my child? Were you afraid that insolent young
scoundrel would dare to do such a thing?"
"At first," she faltered, and then quickly, "I hardly knew what to
think; I was afraid someone was going to break in. Oh, Mr Garstang,
why have you come?"
He uttered a little laugh.
"For the same reason, I suppose, that would make a father who knew his
child was in peril act in the same way."
"It is very, very kind of you; but you will be heard, and it will only
cause fresh trouble."
"It can cause no greater than has come to us, my child. I was half-way
to London, but I could not go on; so I got out at a station ten miles
away, walked into the village close by, and found a fly and a man to
drive me over. I wanted to know how you were getting on. Have you seen
them again?"
"No. I came straight to my room, and have not left it since."
"Good girl! That was very brave of you. Then you took my advice."
"Of course."
"And Master Claud?"
He felt her start and shudder.
"Don't talk about him, please. But there, I am very grateful to you for
being so kind and thoughtful, and for your brave defence."
"Brave nonsense, my child!" he said bluntly. "I did as any man of right
feeling would have done if he found a ruffian insulting a weak, helpless
girl. Kate, my dear, my blood has been boiling ever since. I could not
go back and leave you in this state; I was compelled to come and see you
and have a little consultation about your future. I felt that I must do
it before seeing James Wilton again. Not a very reputable way, this, of
coming to a man's house, even if he is a connection of mine; not
respectful to you, either, my child, but I felt certain that if I came
to the door and asked to see you I should have been refused entrance."
"Yes, yes," said Kate, sadly. "I should not have been told of your
coming, or I would have insisted upon seeing you."
"You would! Brave girl! I like to hear you speak out so firmly. Well,
there was nothing for it but for me, middle-aged man as I am, to play
the daring gallant at the lady's window--lattice, I ought to say."
"Please don't talk like this, Mr Garstang," said Kate. "It does not
sound like you to be playful in your manner."
"Thank you, my child, you are right; it does not I accept the reproof.
Now, then, to be businesslike. You have been thinking deeply, of
course, since you have been alone?"
"Yes, very, very seriously about my position. Mr Garstang, it is
impossible for me to stay here."
"Quite impossible. The conduct to you of your aunt and uncle makes
them--no matter what promises they may give you--quite unworthy of your
trust. Well?"
"I have pretty well decided that I shall go away to-morrow with Eliza,
our old nurse and maid."
"A most worthy woman, my dear. You could not do better; but--"
"But what?" said Kate, nervously.
"I do not wish to alarm you, but do you fully realise your position
here?"
"Yes, and that is why I have decided to go."
"Exactly; but you do not fully grasp my meaning. What about your
uncle?"
"You mean that he will object?"
"Exactly."
"But if I am firm, and insist, he will not dare to detain me," said the
girl warmly.
"You think so? Well, think again, my child. He is your guardian and
trustee; he will absolutely refuse, and will take any steps which he
considers right to prevent your leaving. I am afraid that by the power
your poor father left in his hands he will consider himself justified in
keeping you quite as a prisoner until you obey his wishes."
"Mr Garstang, surely he dare not proceed to such extremities!"
"I am afraid that he has the power, and I grieve to say he is in such a
position that he is likely to be reckless in his desire to gain his
ends."
Kate drew a deep breath, and gazed appealingly in the speaker's face.
"As a solicitor and the husband of your aunt's late sister, James Wilton
naturally came to me for help in his money affairs, and I did the best I
could for him. I found that he had been gambling foolishly on the Stock
Exchange, instead of keeping to his farms, and was so involved that
immediate payments had to be made to save him from absolute ruin."
"But my father surely did not know of this?"
"Not a word. He kept his own counsel, and of course until the will was
read I had no idea of what arrangements your father had made; in fact, I
was somewhat taken aback, for I thought it possible that he would have
made me one of your trustees. But that by the way. I helped your uncle
all I could as a monetary agent, and found clients who were willing to
advance him money on his estate, which is now deeply mortgaged. These
moneys are now wanted, for the interest has not been fully paid for
years. In short, James Wilton is in a desperate condition, and my
visits here have been to try and extricate him from his monetary tangle
in which he finds himself. Now do you begin to grasp what his designs
are?"
"Yes, I see," said Kate, sadly; "it is to get some of the money which
should be mine, to pay his debts."
"Exactly, and the simplest way to do so is to marry you to Claud."
"No: there is a simpler way, Mr Garstang. If my uncle had come to me
and told me his position I should have felt that I could not have done a
more kindly deed than to help my father's brother by paying his debts."
"Very kind and generous of you, my child; but he would not believe it
possible, and I must say to you that, after what has passed, you would
not be doing your duty to the dead by helping your uncle to this extent.
Kate, my dear, since I have been talking to you it has occurred to me
that there is but one way out of your difficulty."
"Yes, what is it?" she cried eagerly.
"Of course, you cannot marry your cousin?"
"Mr Garstang!" she cried indignantly.
"It is impossible, of course; and if you stay here you will have to
submit to endless persecution and annoyance, such as a highly strung,
sensitive girl like you are will be unable to combat."
"You do not know me yet, Mr Garstang."
"Indeed? I think I do, as I have known you from a child. You are
mentally strong, but you have been, and under these circumstances will
be, further sapped by sickness, and it would need superhuman power to
win in so cruel a fight. You must not risk it, Kate, my child. You
must go."
"Yes, I feel that I know I must go, but how can I? You, as a lawyer,
should know."
"A long and costly litigation, or an appeal to the Court of Chancery
might save you, and a judge make an order traversing your father's will,
but I should shrink from such a course; I know too well the
uncertainties of the law."
"Then your idea for extricating me from my difficult position is of no
value," she said, despairingly.
"You have not heard it yet," he said, "because I almost shrink from
proposing such a thing to your father's child."
"Tell me what it is," she said firmly.
"You desire me to?"
"Of course."
"It is this--a simple and effective way of checkmating one who has
proved himself unworthy. My idea was that you should transfer the
guardianship to me."
"Willingly, Mr Garstang; but can it be done?"
"It must and shall be done if you are willing, my child," he said
firmly, "but it would necessitate a very unusual, a bold and immediate
step oh your part."
"What is that, Mr Garstang?" she said quietly.
"You would have to place yourself under my guardianship at once."
"At once?" she said, starting slightly.
"Yes. Think for yourself. It could not be done slowly and legally, for
at the first suspicion that I was acting against him, James Wilton would
place you immediately completely out of my reach, and take ample care
that I had no further communication with you."
"Yes," she said quietly; "he would."
"Yes," he said, repeating her words, and speaking in a slow,
passionless, judicial way; "if the thing were deferred, or if he were
besieged, he would redouble his pressure. Kate, my dear, that was my
idea; but it must sound almost as mad to you as it does to me. Yes, it
is impossible; I ought not to have proposed such a thing, and yet I can
not find it in my heart to give up any chance of rescuing you from your
terrible position."
He was silent, and she stood there gazing straight before her for a few
moments before turning her eyes upon his.
"Tell me plainly what you mean, Mr Garstang."
"Simply this: I did mean that you should take the opportunity of my
being here and leave at once. I have the fly waiting, and I could take
you to my town house and place you in the care of my housekeeper and her
daughter. It would of course be checkmating your uncle, who could be
brought to his knees; and then as the price of your pardon you could do
something to help him out of his difficulties. Possibly a moderate
payment to his creditors might free him on easy terms. But there, my
child, the project is too wild and chimerical. It must almost sound to
you like a romance."
She stood there gazing full in his eyes as he ceased speaking; and at
the end of a minute he said gently, "There, I must not keep you talking
here in the cold night air. Your chest is still delicate; but strange
as the visit may seem, I am after all glad I have come, if only to give
you a little comfort--to show you that you are not quite alone in the
world. There, say good-night, and, of course, you will not mention my
visit to anyone. I must go now and catch the night mail at the station.
To-morrow I will see a very learned old barrister friend, and lay the
matter before him so as to get his advice. He may show me some way out
of the difficulty. Keep a good heart. I must show you that you have
one who will act as an uncle should. But listen to me," he said, as he
took her cold hand in his, "you must brace yourself up for the
encounters to come. Even if I find that I can assist you, the law moves
slowly, and it may be months before you can come out of prison. So no
flinching; let James Wilton and that scoundrel Claud know that they have
a firm, mentally strong woman to deal with; and now God bless you, my
child! Good-night!"
He let her hand fall, and lowered himself a round of the ladder; but she
stood as if carved in marble in the bright moonlight, without uttering a
word.
"Say good-night, my dear; and come, be firm."
She made no reply.
"You are not hurt by my proposal?" he said quietly.
"No," she said at last, "I was trying to weigh it. I must have time."
"Yes, you must have time. Think it over, my child; it may strike you
differently to-morrow, or you may see it in a more impossible light. So
may I. You know my address: Bedford Row will find me. I am well known
in London. Write to me if you require help, and at any cost I will come
and see you, even if I bring police to force my way. Now, good-night,
my dear. Heigho! Why did not I have a daughter such as you?"
"Let me think," said Kate gravely.
"No; this is no time for thinking, my child. Once more, good-night."
"No," said Kate firmly. "I will trust you, Mr Garstang. You must not
leave me to be kept a prisoner here."
"Possibly they would not dare; and I must warn you that you are taking a
very unusual step."
"Not in trusting you, sir," she said firmly. "Treat me as you have
treated the daughter who might have been born to you, and save me at
once from the position I am in. Wait while I go and waken Eliza. She
must be with us."
"Your maid?" he said.
"Yes, I can not leave her here."
"They will not keep her a prisoner," he said quietly, "and she can join
us afterwards. No, my child, if you go with me now it must be alone and
at once. I will not put any pressure on you. Come or stay. You still
have me to work for you as far as in me lies. Which shall it be? Your
hat and cloak, or good-night?"
"Don't leave me, Mr Garstang. I am weak and hysterical still. I feel
now, after the chance of freedom you have shown me, that I dare not face
to-morrow alone."
"Then you will come?" he said, in the same low passionless way.
"I will."
Five minutes after, John Garstang was helping her carefully to descend
the ladder, guarding her every footstep so that she could not fall; and
as they reached the ground, he quietly offered her his arm.
"What a beautifully calm and peaceful night!" he said gravely. "Do you
feel the cold?"
"No; my cheeks are burning," she answered.
"Ah! yes, a little excitement; but don't be alarmed. The fly is waiting
about half a mile away. A sharp walk will bring back the correct
circulation. Almost a shame, though, my child, to take you from the
clear pure air of the country to my gloomy house in Great Ormond Street.
Not very far from your old home."
"Don't talk to me, please, Mr Garstang," she said painfully.
"I most, my dear; and about everything that will take your attention
from the step you are taking. Are your shoes pretty stout? I must not
have you suffering from wet feet. By the way, my dear, you were
nineteen on your last birthday. You look much older. I thought so
yesterday. Dear, dear, ii my poor wife had lived, how she would have
blessed me for bringing her a daughter to our quiet home! How you would
have liked her, my dear! A sweet, good, clever woman--so different to
Maria Wilton. Well, well, a good woman, too, in spite of her weakness
for her boy."
He chatted on, with Kate walking by him in silence, till the fly was
reached, with the horse munching the grass at the road side, and the
driver asleep on the box, but ready to start into wakefulness at a word.
An hour later, Kate sat back in the corner of a first-class carriage,
when her strength gave way, and she burst into a hysterical fit of
sobbing. But she heard Garstang's words:
"I am glad to see that, my child. Cry on; it will relieve your
overburdened heart. You will be better then. You have done right;
never fear. To-morrow you can rest in peace."