Sorrow and trouble now began to descend upon Mr Thomas Donnithorne like
a thick cloud.
Reduced from a state of affluence to one bordering on absolute poverty,
the old man's naturally buoyant spirit almost gave way, and it needed
all the attentions and the cheering influence of his good wife and sweet
Rose Ellis to keep him from going (as he often half-jestingly
threatened) to the end of Cape Cornwall and jumping into the sea.
"It's all over with me, Oliver," said he one morning, after the return
of his nephew from London. "A young fellow like you may face up against
such difficulties, but what is an old man to do? I can't begin the
world over again; and as for the shares I have in the various mines,
they're not worth the paper they're writ upon."
"But things may take a turn," suggested Oliver; "this is not the first
time the mines have been in a poor condition, and the price of tin low.
When things get very bad they are likely to get better, you know. Even
now there seems to be some talk among the miners of an improved state of
things. I met Maggot yesterday, and he was boasting of having found a
monstrous bunch, which, according to him, is to be the making of all our
fortunes."
Mr Donnithorne shook his head.
"Maggot's geese are always swans," he said; "no, no, Oliver, I have lost
all hope of improvement. There are so many of these deceptive mines
around us just now--some already gone down, and some going--that the
public are losing confidence in us, and, somewhat unfairly, judging
that, because a few among us are scoundrels, we are altogether a bad
lot."
"What do you think of Mr Clearemout's new mine?" asked Oliver.
"I believe it to be a genuine one," said the old gentleman, turning a
somewhat sharp glance on his nephew. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I doubt it," replied Oliver.
"You are too sceptical," said Mr Donnithorne almost testily; "too much
given to judging things at first sight."
"Nay, uncle; you are unfair. Had I judged of you at first sight, I
should have thought you a--"
"Well, what? a smuggling old brandy-loving rascal--eh? and not far wrong
after all."
"At all events," said Oliver, laughing, "I have lived to form a better
opinion of you than that. But, in reference to Clearemout, I cannot
shut my eyes to the fact that the work doing at the new mine is very
like a sham, for they have only two men and a boy working her, with a
captain to superintend; and it is said, for I made inquiries while in
London, that thirty thousand pounds have been called up from the
shareholders, and there are several highly paid directors, with an
office-staff in the City drawing large salaries."
"Nonsense, Oliver," said Mr Donnithorne more testily than before; "you
know very well that things must have a beginning, and that caution is
necessary at first in all speculations. Besides, I feel convinced that
Mr Clearemout is a most respectable man, and an uncommonly clever
fellow to boot. It is quite plain that you don't like him--that's what
prejudices you, Oliver. You're jealous of the impression he has made on
the people here."
This last remark was made jestingly, but it caused the young doctor to
wince, having hit nearer the truth than the old gentleman had any idea
of, for although Oliver envied not the handsome stranger's popularity,
he was, almost unknown to himself, very jealous of the impression he
seemed to have made on Rose Ellis.
A feeling of shame induced him to change the subject of conversation,
with a laughing observation that he hoped such an unworthy motive did
not influence him.
Now, while this conversation was going on in the parlour of Mr
Donnithorne's cottage, another dialogue was taking place in a small
wooden erection at the end of the garden, which bore the dignified name
of "Rose's Bower." The parties concerned in it were George Augustus
Clearemout and Rose Ellis.
A day or two previous to the conversation to which we are about to draw
attention, the managing director had undergone a change in his
sentiments and intentions. When he first saw Rose he thought her an
uncommonly sweet and pretty girl. A short acquaintance with her
convinced him that she was even sweeter and prettier than at first he
had thought her. This, coupled with the discovery that her uncle was
very rich, and that he meant to leave a large portion of his wealth, if
not all of it, to Rose, decided Clearemout, and he resolved to marry
her. Afterwards he became aware of the fact that old Mr Donnithorne
had met with losses, but he was ignorant of their extent, and still
deemed it worth while to carry out his intentions.
George Augustus had been a "managing director" in various ways from his
earliest infancy, and had never experienced much opposition to his will,
so that he had acquired a habit of settling in his own mind whatever he
meant to do, and forthwith doing it. On this occasion he resolved to
sacrifice himself to Rose, in consideration of her prospective fortune--
cash being, of course, Mr Clearemout's god.
Great, then, was the managing director's surprise, and astonishing the
condition of his feelings, when, on venturing to express his wishes to
Rose, he was kindly, but firmly, rejected! Mr Clearemout was so
thunderstruck--having construed the unsophisticated girl's candour and
simplicity of manner into direct encouragement--that he could make no
reply, but, with a profound bow, retired hastily from her presence, went
to his lodgings, and sat down with his elbows on the table, and his face
buried in his large hands, the fingers of which appeared to be crushing
in his forehead, as if to stifle the thoughts that burned there. After
sitting thus for half an hour he suddenly rose, with his face somewhat
paler, and his lips a little more firmly compressed than usual.
It was an epoch in his existence. The man who had so often and so
successfully deceived others had made the wonderful discovery that he
had deceived himself. He had imagined that money was his sole object in
wishing to marry Rose. He now discovered that love, or something like
it, had so much to do with his wishes that he resolved to have her
without money, and also without her consent.
Something within the man told him that Rose's refusal was an unalterable
one. He did not think it worth while to waste time in a second attempt.
His plans, though hastily formed, required a good deal of preliminary
arrangement, so he commenced to carry them out with the single
exclamation, "I'll do it!" accompanied with a blow from his heavy fist
on the table, which, being a weak lodging-house one, was split from end
to end. But the managing director had a soul above furniture at that
moment. He hastily put on his hat and strode out of the house.
Making good use of a good horse, he paid sundry mysterious visits to
various smuggling characters, to all of whom he was particularly
agreeable and liberal in the bestowal of portions of the thirty thousand
pounds with which a too confiding public had intrusted him. Among other
places, he went to a cottage on a moor between St. Just and Penzance,
and had a confidential interview with a man named Hicks, who was noted
for his capacity to adapt himself to circumstances (when well paid)
without being troubled by conscientious scruples. This man had a son
who had once suffered from a broken collar-bone, and whose ears were
particularly sharp. He chanced to overhear the conversation at the
interview referred to, and dutifully reported the same to his mother,
who happened to be a great gossip, and knew much about the private
affairs of nearly everybody living within six miles of her. The good
woman resolved to make some use of her information, but Mr Clearemout
left the cottage in ignorance, of course, of her resolution.
Having transacted these little pieces of business, the managing director
returned home, and, on the day following, sought and obtained an
interview with Rose Ellis in her bower.
Recollecting the subject of their last conversation, Rose blushed, as
much with indignation as confusion, at being intruded upon, but Mr
Clearemout at once dispersed her angry feelings by assuring her in tones
of deferential urbanity that he would not have presumed to intrude upon
her but for the fact that he was about to quit Cornwall without delay,
and he wished to talk with her for only a few minutes on business
connected with Mr Donnithorne.
There was something so manly and straightforward in his tone and manner
that she could not choose but allow him to sit down beside her, although
she did falter out something about the propriety of talking on her
uncle's business affairs with Mr Donnithorne himself.
"Your observation is most just," said Mr Clearemout earnestly; "but you
are aware that your uncle's nature is a delicate, sensitive one, and I
feel that he would shrink from proposals coming from me, that he might
listen to if made to him through you. I need not conceal from you, Miss
Ellis, that I am acquainted with the losses which your uncle has
recently sustained, and no one can appreciate more keenly than I do the
harshness with which the world, in its ignorance of details, is apt to
judge of the circumstances which brought about this sad state of things.
I cannot help feeling deeply the kindness which has been shown me by
Mr Donnithorne during my residence here, and I would, if I could, show
him some kindness in return."
Mr Clearemout paused here a few moments as if to reflect. He resolved
to assume that Mr Donnithorne's losses were ruinous, little imagining
that in this assumption he was so very near the truth! Rose felt
grateful to him for the kind and delicate way in which he referred to
her uncle's altered circumstances.
"Of course," continued the managing director, "I need not say to _you_,
that his independent spirit would never permit him to accept of
assistance in the form which would be most immediately beneficial to
him. Indeed, I could not bring myself to offer money even as a loan.
But it happens that I have the power, just now, of disposing of the
shares which he has taken in Wheal Dooem Mine at a very large profit;
and as my hope of the success of that enterprise is very small, I--"
"Very small!" echoed Rose in surprise. "You astonish me, Mr
Clearemout. Did I not hear you, only a few nights ago, say that you had
the utmost confidence in the success of your undertaking?"
"Most true," replied the managing director with a smile; "but in the
world of business a few hours work wonderful changes, sometimes, in
one's opinion of things--witness the vacillations and variations `on
'Change'--if I may venture to allude before a lady to such an
incomprehensible subject."
Rose felt her vigorous little spirit rise, and she was about to return a
smart reply in defence of woman's intelligence even in business matters,
but the recollection of the altered relative position in which they now
stood restrained her.
"Yes," continued Mr Clearemout, with a sigh, "the confidence which I
felt in Wheal Dooem has been much shaken of late, and the sooner your
uncle sells out the better."
"But would it be right," said Rose earnestly, "to sell our shares at a
high profit if things be as you say?"
"Quite right," replied Clearemout, with a bland smile of honesty; "_I_
believe the mine to be a bad speculation; my friend, we shall suppose,
believes it to be a good one. Believing as I do, I choose to sell out;
believing as he does, he chooses to buy in. The simplest thing in the
world, Miss Ellis. Done every day with eyes open, I assure you; but it
is not every day that a chance occurs so opportunely as the present, and
I felt it to be a duty to give my friend the benefit of my knowledge
before quitting this place--for ever!"
There was something so kind and touching in the tone of the managing
director that Rose was quite drawn towards him, and felt as if she had
actually done him an unkindness in refusing him.
"But," continued her companion, "I can do nothing, Miss Ellis, without
your assistance."
"You shall have it," said Rose earnestly; "for I would do anything that
a woman might venture, to benefit my dear, dear uncle, and I feel
assured that you would not ask me to do anything wrong or unwomanly."
"I would not indeed," answered Clearemout with emotion; "but the world
is apt to misjudge in matters of delicacy. To ask you to meet me on the
cliffs near Priest's Cove, close to Cape Cornwall, to-night, would
appear wrong in the eyes of the world."
"And with justice," said Rose quickly, with a look of mingled dignity
and surprise.
"Nevertheless, this is absolutely needful, if we would accomplish the
object in view. A friend, whom I know to be desirous of purchasing
shares in the mine is to pass round the cape in his yacht this evening.
The idea of offering these shares to him had not occurred to me when I
wrote to say that I would meet him there. He cannot come up here, I
know, but the stroke of a pen, with one of the family to witness it,
will be sufficient."
It was a bold stroke of fancy in the managing director to put the matter
in such a ridiculously unbusinesslike light, but he counted much on
Rose's ignorance. As for poor Rose herself, she, knew not what to say
or do at first, but when Clearemout heaved a sigh, and, with an
expression of deep sadness on his countenance, rose to take leave, she
allowed a generous impulse to sway her.
"Your answer, then, is--No," said Clearemout, with deep pathos in his
tone.
Now, it chanced that at this critical point in the conversation, Oliver
Trembath, having left the cottage, walked over the grass towards a small
gate, near which the bower stood. He unavoidably heard the question,
and also the quick, earnest reply,--"My answer, Mr Clearemout, is--Yes.
I will meet you this evening on the cliff."
She frankly gave him her hand as she spoke, and he gallantly pressed it
to his lips, an act which took Rose by surprise, and caused her to pull
it away suddenly. She then turned and ran out at the side of the bower
to seek the solitude of her own apartment, while Clearemout left it by
the other side, and stood face to face with the spellbound Oliver.
To say that both gentlemen turned pale as their eyes met would not give
an adequate idea of their appearance. Oliver's heart, as well as his
body, when he heard the question and reply, stood still as if he had
been paralysed. This, then, he thought, was the end of all his hopes--
hopes hardly admitted to himself, and never revealed to Rose, except in
unstudied looks and tones. For a few moments his face grew absolutely
livid, while he glared at his rival.
On the other hand, Mr Clearemout, believing that the whole of his
conversation had been overheard, supposed that he had discovered all his
villainy to one who was thoroughly able, as well as willing, to thwart
him. For a moment he felt an almost irresistible impulse to spring on
and slay his enemy; his face became dark with suppressed emotion; and it
is quite possible that in the fury of his disappointed malice he might
have attempted violence,--had not Oliver spoken. His voice was husky as
he said,--"Chance, sir--unfortunate, miserable chance--led me to
overhear the last few words that passed between you and--"
He paused, unable to say more. Instantly the truth flashed across
Clearemout's quick mind. He drew himself up boldly, and the blood
returned to his face as he replied,--"If so, sir, you cannot but be
aware that the lady's choice is free, and that your aspect and attitude
towards me are unworthy of a gentleman."
A wonderful influence for weal or woe oft-times results from the
selection of a phrase or a word. Had Clearemout charged Oliver with
insolence or presumption, he would certainly have struck him to the
ground; but the words "unworthy of a gentleman" created a revulsion in
his feelings. Thought is swifter than light. He saw himself in the
position of a disappointed man scowling on a successful rival who had
done him no injury.
"Thank you, Clearemout. Your rebuke is merited," he said bitterly; and,
turning on his heel, he bounded over the low stone wall of the garden,
and hastened away.
Whither he went he knew not. A fierce fire seemed to rage in his breast
and burn in his brain. At first he walked at full speed, but as he
cleared the town he ran--ran as he had never run before. For the time
being he was absolutely mad. Over marsh and moor he sped, clearing all
obstacles with a bound, and making straight for the Land's End, with no
definite purpose in view, for, after a time, he appeared to change his
intention, if he had any. He turned sharp to the left, and ran straight
to Penzance, never pausing in his mad career until he neared the town.
The few labourers he chanced to pass on the way gazed after him in
surprise, but he heeded not. At the cottage on the moor where he had
bandaged the shoulder of the little boy a woman's voice called loudly,
anxiously after him, but he paid no attention. At last he came to a
full stop, and, pressing both hands tightly over his forehead, made a
terrible effort to collect his thoughts. He was partially successful,
and, with somewhat of his wonted composure, walked rapidly into the
town.