Sir Bale is Frightened
To Feltram she had conceived, at first sight, a horror. It was not a
mere antipathy; fear mingled largely in it. Although she did not see him
often, this restless dread grew upon her so, that she urged his
dismissal upon Sir Bale, offering to provide, herself, for him a
handsome annuity, charged on that part of her property which, by her
marriage settlement, had remained in her power. There was a time when
Sir Bale was only too anxious to get rid of him. But that was changed
now. Nothing could now induce the Baronet to part with him. He at first
evaded and resisted quietly. But, urged with a perseverance to which he
was unused, he at last broke into fury that appalled her, and swore that
if he was worried more upon the subject, he would leave her and the
country, and see neither again. This exhibition of violence affrighted
her all the more by reason of the contrast; for up to this he had been
an uxorious husband. Lady Mardykes was in hysterics, and thoroughly
frightened, and remained in her room for two or three days. Sir Bale
went up to London about business, and was not home for more than a week.
This was the first little squall that disturbed the serenity of their
sky.
This point, therefore, was settled; but soon there came other things to
sadden Lady Mardykes. There occurred a little incident, soon after Sir
Bale's return from London, which recalled the topic on which they had so
nearly quarrelled.
Sir Bale had a dressing-room, remote from the bedrooms, in which he sat
and read and sometimes smoked. One night, after the house was all quiet,
the Baronet being still up, the bell of this dressing-room rang long and
furiously. It was such a peal as a person in extreme terror might ring.
Lady Mardykes, with her maid in her room, heard it; and in great alarm
she ran in her dressing-gown down the gallery to Sir Bale's room.
Mallard the butler had already arrived, and was striving to force the
door, which was secured. It gave way just as she reached it, and she
rushed through.
Sir Bale was standing with the bell-rope in his hand, in the extremest
agitation, looking like a ghost; and Philip Feltram was sitting in his
chair, with a dark smile fixed upon him. For a minute she thought he had
attempted to assassinate his master. She could not otherwise account for
the scene.
There had been nothing of the kind, however; as her husband assured her
again and again, as she lay sobbing on his breast, with her arms about
his neck.
"To her dying hour," she afterwards said to her cousin, "she never could
forget the dreadful look in Feltram's face."
No explanation of that scene did she ever obtain from Sir Bale, nor any
clue to the cause of the agony that was so powerfully expressed in his
countenance. Thus much only she learned from him, that Feltram had
sought that interview for the purpose of announcing his departure, which
was to take place within the year.
"You are not sorry to hear that. But if you knew all, you might. Let the
curse fly where it may, it will come back to roost. So, darling, let us
discuss him no more. Your wish is granted, _dis iratis_."
Some crisis, during this interview, seemed to have occurred in the
relations between Sir Bale and Feltram. Henceforward they seldom
exchanged a word; and when they did speak, it was coldly and shortly,
like men who were nearly strangers.
One day in the courtyard, Sir Bale seeing Feltram leaning upon the
parapet that overlooks the lake, approached him, and said in a low tone,
"I've been thinking if we--that is, I--do owe that money to old Trebeck,
it is high time I should pay it. I was ill, and had lost my head at the
time; but it turned out luckily, and it ought to be paid. I don't like
the idea of a bond turning up, and a lot of interest."
"The old fellow meant it for a present. He is richer than you are; he
wished to give the family a lift. He has destroyed the bond, I believe,
and in no case will he take payment."
"No fellow has a right to force his money on another," answered Sir
Bale. "I never asked him. Besides, as you know, I was not really myself,
and the whole thing seems to me quite different from what you say it
was; and, so far as my brain is concerned, it was all a phantasmagoria;
but, you say, it was he."
"Every man is accountable for what he intends and for what he _thinks_
he does," said Feltram cynically.
"Well, I'm accountable for dealing with that wicked old dicer I
_thought_ I saw--isn't that it? But I must pay old Trebeck all the same,
since the money was his. Can you manage a meeting?"
"Look down here. Old Trebeck has just landed; he will sleep to-night at
the George and Dragon, to meet his cattle in the morning at Golden
Friars fair. You can speak to him yourself."
So saying Feltram glided away, leaving Sir Bale the task of opening the
matter to the wealthy farmer of Cloostedd Fells.
A broad night of steps leads down from the courtyard to the level of the
jetty at the lake: and Sir Bale descended, and accosted the venerable
farmer, who was bluff, honest, and as frank as a man can be who speaks a
_patois_ which hardly a living man but himself can understand.
Sir Bale asked him to come to the Hall and take luncheon; but Trebeck
was in haste. Cattle had arrived which he wanted to look at, and a pony
awaited him on the road, hard by, to Golden Friars; and the old fellow
must mount and away.
Then Sir Bale, laying his hand upon his arm in a manner that was at once
lofty and affectionate, told in his ears the subject on which he wished
to be understood.
The old farmer looked hard at him, and shook his head and laughed in a
way that would have been insupportable in a house, and told him, "I hev
narra bond o' thoine, mon."
"I know how that is; so does Philip Feltram."
"Well?"
"Well, I must replace the money."
The old man laughed again, and in his outlandish dialect told him to
wait till he asked him. Sir Bale pressed it, but the old fellow put it
off with outlandish banter; and as the Baronet grew testy, the farmer
only waxed more and more hilarious, and at last, mounting his shaggy
pony, rode off, still laughing, at a canter to Golden Friars; and when
he reached Golden Friars, and got into the hall of the George and
Dragon, he asked Richard Turnbull with a chuckle if he ever knew a man
refuse an offer of money, or a man want to pay who did not owe; and
inquired whether the Squire down at Mardykes Hall mightn't be a bit
"wrang in t' garrets." All this, however, other people said, was
intended merely to conceal the fact that he really had, through sheer
loyalty, lent the money, or rather bestowed it, thinking the old family
in jeopardy, and meaning a gift, was determined to hear no more about
it. I can't say; I only know people held, some by one interpretation,
some by another.
As the caterpillar sickens and changes its hue when it is about to
undergo its transformation, so an odd change took place in Feltram. He
grew even more silent and morose; he seemed always in an agitation and a
secret rage. He used to walk through the woodlands on the slopes of the
fells above Mardykes, muttering to himself, picking up the rotten sticks
with which the ground was strewn, breaking them in his hands, and
hurling them from him, and stamping on the earth as he paced up and
down.
One night a thunder-storm came on, the wind blowing gently up from
Golden Friars. It was a night black as pitch, illuminated only by the
intermittent glare of the lightning. At the foot of the stairs Sir Bale
met Feltram, whom he had not seen for some days. He had his cloak and
hat on.
"I am going to Cloostedd to-night," he said, "and if all is as I expect,
I sha'n't return. We remember all, you and I." And he nodded and walked
down the passage.
Sir Bale knew that a crisis had happened in his own life. He felt faint
and ill, and returned to the room where he had been sitting. Throughout
that melancholy night he did not go to his bed.
In the morning he learned that Marlin, who had been out late, saw
Feltram get the boat off, and sail towards the other side. The night was
so dark that he could only see him start; but the wind was light and
coming up the lake, so that without a tack he could easily make the
other side. Feltram did not return. The boat was found fast to the ring
at Cloostedd landing-place.
Lady Mardykes was relieved, and for a time was happier than ever. It was
different with Sir Bale; and afterwards her sky grew dark also.