A LAST WARNING
The laugh which checked Vandermere in his first intention of following
Lois and Saton up the field, was scarcely a mirthful effort. Saton had
bent toward his companion, and his tone had been almost threatening.
"You must not look at anyone like that while I am with you," he said.
"You must not look as though you were frightened of me. You must seem
amused. You must laugh."
She obeyed. It was a poor effort, but it sounded natural enough in the
distance.
"Come," Saton continued, "you are not very kind to me, Lois. You are
not very kind to the man whom you are going to marry, whom you have
said that you love. It has been very lonely these last few days, Lois.
You have not come to me. I have watched for you often."
"I could not come," she answered. "Lady Mary has been with me all the
time. I think that she suspects."
"Surely you are clever enough," he answered, "to outwit a little
simpleton like that. Has Rochester been interfering?"
"If he knew that I even spoke to you," she answered, "I think that he
would send me away."
"It is not kind of them," he said, "to be so bitter against me."
She shrank from him.
"If they knew!" she said. "If they only knew that I even thought of
marrying you, or--or--"
Saton shrugged his shoulders.
"Ah, well," he said, "they know as much as it is well for them to
know! After all, you see, no harm has happened to your guardian. I saw
him to-day, on his way home from hunting. He looked strong and well
enough. Tell me, Lois," he continued, "has he had any visitors from
London the last few days? I don't mean guests--I mean people to see
him on business?"
"Not that I know of," she answered. "Why?"
Saton's face darkened.
"It is he, I am sure," he said, "who is interfering in my concerns.
Never mind, Lois, we will not talk about that, dear. Give me your
hand. We are engaged, you know. You should be glad to have these few
minutes with me."
Her fingers which he clasped were like ice. He was puzzled at her
attitude.
"A month ago," he said softly, "you did not find it such a hardship to
spend a little time alone with me."
"A month ago," she answered, "I had not seen you on your knees with a
gun, seen your white face, heard the report, and seen Mr. Rochester
fall. I had not seen you steal away through the bracken. Oh, it was
terrible! You looked like a murderer! I shall never, never forget it."
He laughed softly.
"These things are fancies," he said--"dreams. You will forget them, my
dear Lois. You will forget them very soon."
They entered the house, and in the hall he drew her into his arms. She
wrenched herself free, and crouched back in the corner, with her hands
stretched out in front of her face.
"Don't!" she cried. "Don't! If you kiss me, I shall go mad. Can't you
see that I don't want to come with you, that I don't want to be with
you? You shall let me go! You must let me go!"
He stood frowning a few feet away. To tell the truth, he was honestly
puzzled at her attitude. At last, with a little shrug of the
shoulders, he threw open the door of the sitting-room.
"Rachael," he said, "Lois has come to see you for a few minutes."
Lois went timidly into the room. Rachael, with a shawl around her
shoulders, was sitting in front of a huge fire. She turned her head
and held out her long withered hand, as usual covered with rings.
"Sit opposite me, child. Let me look at you."
Lois sat down, gazing with fascinated eyes at the woman whose presence
she found almost as terrifying as the presence of Saton himself.
"My son--I call Bertrand my son," she said, "because I have adopted
him, and because everything I have, even my name if he will have
it--will be his--my son, then, tells me that he has not seen you for
several days."
"It is very difficult," Lois said, trembling.
"Why?" Rachael asked.
"My guardian, Mr. Rochester, does not allow Bertrand to come to the
house," Lois said, hesitatingly, "and Lady Mary tries not to let me
come out alone."
Rachael nodded her head slowly, her eyes glittered in the firelight.
Wrapped in her black shawl, she looked like some quaint
effigy--something scarcely human.
"Your guardian and his wife," she said, "are foolish, ignorant people.
They do not understand such men as Bertrand. You will understand him,
child. You will know him better when he is your husband, know him
better, and be proud of him. Is it not so?"
"I--I suppose so," Lois said.
"I am glad that you came this afternoon," Rachael continued. "Bertrand
and I have been talking. We think it well that you should be married
very soon."
"I am not of age," Lois said, breathlessly.
"It does not matter," Rachael declared. "Your guardian can keep back
your money, but that is of no consequence. It will come to you in
time, and Bertrand has plenty himself. I am afraid that they might try
and tempt you to be faithless to my son. You are very young and
impressionable, and though I do not doubt but that you are fond of
him, it is not easy to be faithful when you are alone, and with such
people as Mr. Rochester and Lady Mary. I am going to London in a few
days. I think it would be well if you went with me. Bertrand could get
a special license, and you could be married at once."
"No!" she shrieked. "No! No!"
Rachael said nothing. Her lips moved, but no sound came. Only her eyes
flashed unutterable things.
Upon the somewhat hysterical silence came the sound of Saton's
voice--cold, decisive.
"Lois," he said, "what my mother has advised would make me very happy.
Will you remember that I wish it? Will you remember that?"
"Yes!" she faltered.
"I shall make you a good husband," he added, coming a little nearer to
her, sinking on one knee by her side, and taking her cold, unresisting
hands into his. "I shall make you a good husband, and I think that you
will be happy. We cannot go on like this. I only see you now by
stealth. It must come to an end."
"Yes!" she faltered.
"Next time we meet," he continued, "I will tell you what plans we have
made."
She turned her head slowly, and looked at him with frightened,
wide-open eyes.
"Why?" she asked. "Why do you want me to marry you? You do not care
for me. You do not care for me at all. Is it because I am rich? But
you--you are rich yourselves. I would offer you my money, but you
cannot want that."
He smiled enigmatically.
"No!" he said. "Money is a good thing, but we have money ourselves.
Don't you believe, Lois," he added, bending towards her, "that I am
fond of you?"
"Oh! yes," she answered, "if you say so!"
"Of course I say so!" he declared. "I am very fond of you indeed, or I
should not want to marry you. Come, I think that you had better say
good-bye to my mother now. Your friend outside will be tired of
waiting."
She rose to her feet, and he led her from the room. They walked down
the field side by side, and Lois felt her knees trembling. She was
white as a sheet, and once she was obliged to clutch his arm for
support. As they neared the gate, they saw that Vandermere was talking
to someone on horseback. Saton's face darkened as he recognised the
tall figure. His first impulse was to stop, but with Lois by his side
he saw at once that it was impossible. With the courage that waits
upon the inevitable, he opened the gate and passed out into the lane.
"Good afternoon, Miss Champneyes!" he said, holding out his hand. "It
was very good of you to come in and visit the Comtesse. She is always
so glad indeed to see you."
The girl's fingers lay for a moment icy cold within his. Then she
turned with a little breath of relief to Vandermere. They walked off
together.
Rochester signalled with his whip to Saton to wait for a moment. As
soon as the other two were out of earshot, he leaned down from his
saddle.
"My young friend," he said, "it seems to me that you are wilfully
disregarding my warning."
"I was not aware," Saton answered, "that Miss Champneyes was a
prisoner in your house, nor do I see how I am to be held responsible
for her call upon the Comtesse."
"We will not bandy words," Rochester said. "I have no wish to quarrel
with you, but I want you always to remember the things which I have
said. Lois Champneyes is very nearly of age, it is true, but she
remains a child by disposition and temperament. As her guardian, I
want you to understand that I forbid you to continue your friendship
or even your acquaintance with her!"
The quiet contempt of Rochester's words stung Saton into a moment of
fury.
"What sort of a creature am I, then," he exclaimed, "that you should
think me unworthy even to speak to your ward, or to the women of your
household? You treat me as though I were a criminal, or worse!"
Rochester tapped his riding boot with the end of his whip. Saton
watched him with fascinated eyes. There seemed something a little
ominous in the action, in the sight of that gently moving whip, held
so firmly in the long, sinewy fingers.
"What you are," Rochester said, leaning a little down from his horse,
"you know and I know. Let that be enough. Only remember that there
comes a time when threats cease, and actions commence. And as sure as
you and I are met here together this evening, Saton, I tell you that
if you offend again in this matter, I shall punish you. You
understand?"
Rochester swung his horse round and cantered down the lane. Saton
stood looking after him with white, angry face and clenched hands.