"THERE IT IS AGAIN."
"My dear Gertrude, I did not oppose you after you had made up your mind
to carry out your guardian's wishes; but I'm so pleased with the way in
which things have turned out that I hardly know what to say."
"But you forget, Mrs Hampton; you forget that I have promised to be
that man's wife."
"Well, what of that, my dear?"
"What of that?"
"Yes; you are a woman, aren't you?"
"Of course, but--"
"Well, say you won't have him. Nobody can force you to. What's the
good of being a woman if you can't have your own way about the man you
marry?"
"Hark!" cried Gertrude, "the bell!" and she turned quite pale. "It must
be he."
"Which he?" cried the old woman shortly. "Can't be our Mr George
Harrington, because he was to go to Lincoln's Inn about this time. And
I don't believe it is likely to be the other. He'll never come back at
all. Oh, the pest?"
Mrs Denton looked from one to the other with a satisfied air, as she
handed the letter she brought in to Gertrude, her air suggesting that
she expected to be spoken to; but as nothing was said, she shrugged her
shoulders and left the room.
"From Saul Harrington," said Gertrude, opening the letter with trembling
hands.
It was dated the previous day from a well-known hotel in Paris, and very
brief.
He hoped his dear little cousin would be glad to hear he had reached
Paris all right, and was having lovely weather. He said that the gay
city was full of temptations, but he was going to resist them all, and
leave in forty-eight hours for Chamounix, which he should make his
headquarters till he went on to the Tyrol.
"Tell George," he continued, "that I consider he has lost his manliness
in pinning himself to your apron till the happy day. He had far better
join me out here for a good tramp. If he likes to alter his mind he can
easily catch up to me, and I faithfully promise to send him bark in
ample time for a certain event. Under the circumstances I shall
probably not return till after you are married, so forgive my absence.
I wish you every happiness."
"Then that man has not joined him yet, my dear."
"No, Mrs Hampton. Is it not very strange?"
"Very, my dear."
"Why do you speak like that? It is as if you had some hidden meaning."
"I only think that he did not go and join him."
Gertrude looked at her rather curiously, and then said in an eager way:
"It would be easy to find out if he has joined him since."
"By telegraphing. Are you going to do this?"
Gertrude shook her head.
"Would you like me to send a message?"
"Yes--no--I hardly know what to say."
Mrs Hampton stuck her ball of wool on the point of the shining
knitting-pin she held, and spun it round for a few times.
"It would be satisfactory for everybody to know," she said at last.
"Ring the bell, my dear, and I'll send a message."
The message was despatched, and after a long discussion as to the
probabilities of reaching Saul Harrington before he left for
Switzerland, and how soon an answer might be expected, they settled down
to the daily routine of their lives. One duty now was Gertrude's
nursing of the injured dog, who seemed, as he lay on the soft hay bed in
the stable, very near his end. He lay for hours together without
stirring, till he heard his mistress' step, and then he uttered a low
whine, and feebly raised his head as his eyes sought hers before he
lowered his muzzle again, as if it was too heavy for the strength he had
left.
Gertrude let many a tear fall upon the poor brute's head as she patted
it gently and bandaged the wound, the dog submitting to what must have
been a painful operation without so much as a whine, till the time came
when he could get his head in his mistress' lap, and sink into a kind of
stupor more than sleep.
That day wore by, and there was no answer to the telegram. Then came
the dinner hour, and with it the old lawyer, but not alone, Doctor
Lawrence having once more accompanied him down to The Mynns.
Their looks spoke volumes, but little was said till they were seated
over the dessert; when, in response to one of Gertrude's inquiring
looks, the Doctor leaned towards her, took her hand, and said gravely:
"My dear child, I have said nothing, because I seem to have nothing to
say."
"But tell me what you think," said Gertrude imploringly.
"Well, my dear, I think--but it must not influence us in any degree--
that this young man really is George Harrington."
Gertrude tried to stifle the emotion she felt, as the doctor went on:
"It is a puzzling business, my dear. We have had a very long interview
at Hampton's chambers, and he certainly has impressed me strangely. Our
friend here is like a rock, and he has been piling on to my head stories
of impostures, and cases where pretenders have come forward, till I am
completely bewildered."
"Then if he is not the true George Harrington, let George Harrington
himself come forward and say so. Why doesn't he come back, instead of
running off in this mysterious way?"
Mrs Hampton looked quite fiercely to right and left as she delivered
herself of this speech.
The old lawyer seemed to decline to take up the cudgels; he only tapped
softly on the table. But Mrs Hampton's tongue was unloosed, and she
turned the flow of her eloquence upon the doctor.
"I say this is the right man," she cried; "everything goes to prove it.
I have not said anything about this before, but I have noticed a great
deal since I have been here, and I kept my lips sealed because I felt
that I might be doing wrong in speaking, and, besides, I had no right."
"What have you observed, then?" said the lawyer, turning upon her
sharply.
"That time after time, while he was professing to be so sober, our Mr
George Harrington sat drinking with Saul half, and sometimes all the
night. Three times over did old Mrs Denton come to me, pretending it
was to help her about some domestic matter, over which she did not want
to trouble Gertrude here, and it was to show me Mr George Harrington
asleep in the study, where he had been all night. Ah! here she is.
Mrs Denton, how many times did you find the gentleman--bah!--the man
who came and said he was Mr Harrington--asleep in his chair in the
study."
"Six, ma'am," said the old housekeeper. "No: it was eight."
"Now, don't exaggerate, Denton. It was only three."
"I beg your pardon, ma'am; I only came to you three times. There were
five other times when I woke him, and got him up to bed myself, so
stupid and confused that he could only ask where Mr Saul was. They had
been sitting in the study together when I went to bed, and he must have
let Mr Saul out himself and then gone back and fallen asleep in his
chair. A telegram, miss."
Gertrude eagerly took the message, tore open the envelope, read, and
passed it to Mrs Hampton who also read it anxiously.
"_What do you mean? George did not come with me. He refused in your
presence. Just off to Switzerland. Wire to Glacier Hotel, Chamounix_."
"You need not wait, Denton," said Gertrude.
"No, miss; but might I make so bold: is there any news of--of the
gentleman who said he was Mr George?"
"No, Denton; none at all."
"And might I ask when Mr George is coming again?"
Gertrude looked at the old lawyer, who only looked close as one of his
own tin boxes, so she transferred her gaze to the doctor, who fidgeted
about beneath the inquiring eyes.
Gertrude rose from the table, laid her hand upon the old woman's arm,
and led her from the room.
"Denton--dear old nurse," she said affectionately, "you must be patient
and wait. We are all in a terrible state of perplexity; do not increase
it by asking questions."
The old woman caught her hand and kissed it affectionately.
"Not another word will I say, my dear, till you speak to me. But, Miss
Gertie, I know I'm right. This last one is Master George. Why, my
darling, you can see it in his eyes and in his fine manly way to me--the
poor old woman who nursed him as a child."
"Yes, yes, Denton; but please say no more now."
"Only one word, my dear, and it's about you. If the other comes back
and wants you to side with him, and be his wife, don't listen to him.
You shall not. I'd sooner kill him than he should ever take you in his
arms."
"Denton!"
"I've done, my dear. It was only my love for the little girl I helped
to bring up that made me speak. Don't be angry with me, dear. I forget
sometimes that I'm only a servant. That's right. If you only smile at
me like that you make me feel so happy again."
Gertrude returned to the dining-room, to find that a discussion was
going on, and the doctor speaking.
"Then you feel it is our duty to remain silent?"
"Most decidedly. Whatever your feelings may be you must recollect that
we have accepted this gentleman as James Harrington's heir. The
pretender--"
"Pretender!" echoed Mrs Hampton.
"Yes. I must call him so, my dear. The pretender must make good his
claim."
"Then we can do nothing till Mr George Harrington Number one comes
back?"
"Nothing."
"And you have a latent feeling that we shall not see him again?"
"A feeling that the telegram has strengthened. It seems to me that if--
mind, I say if--he is an impostor, he may have had a hint that the
genuine George Harrington was, after all, alive and coming back. He had
foresight enough to possess himself of a large sum of money, and with
this he has escaped. Good Heavens! There it is again."
Dr Lawrence had started from his seat, as once more a long, low howl
seemed to come from close at hand.
"It is only Bruno," said Gertrude. "Poor fellow! he must have made his
way out of the stable. Don't stir, I'll send him back."
She ran out of the room, to find Denton coming to meet her.
"Bruno, my dear. He has managed to get over into the house."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know, my dear; I only heard him howl."
A short search was sufficient, and the dog was found in the study,
standing on the hearthrug, though his legs seemed hardly able to bear
his weight, and sniffing and looking about in a curiously uneasy way.
Gertrude's coming was sufficient to take his attention directly, and he
suffered himself to be led back to his quarters.
"I seem very rude," was on Gertrude's lips as she reached the
dining-room door, but the words were not spoken, for she stood, chained,
as it were, to the spot, listening to the doctor's words.
"No, Hampton," he said, "we medical men know too much of nature to be
superstitious; but I have known cases where a dog has seemed to have a
strange presage of death."
A sudden giddiness seized upon the trembling girl, as the thought
occurred to her: Suppose these two young men should meet. What would be
the consequence? Would it mean death, and to which?
Gertrude's heart seemed to stand still.