TO EVERY MAN HIS OWN FEAR.
After a pause of astonishment at the inexplicable flight of her lover,
Dora ran upstairs to the room of Mr. Edermont. It was imperative that
she should learn the truth of this disturbance, and, in the absence of
Dr. Scott, her guardian was the proper person to explain the matter.
Had Dora glanced back at Joad, who followed closely, she might have
gathered from his malignant expression that he was likely also to
afford an explanation; but in her anxiety she went directly to the
door of Mr. Edermont's bedroom. It was wide open, and the occupier was
still sobbing by the open window.
"What is the matter?" cried Dora, hurrying forward. "Why has
Allen----"
Edermont lifted up a white face wet with tears, and flung out two thin
hands with a low cry of terror. Then, with a sudden anxiety in his
eyes, he staggered rather than walked across the room, and closed the
door sharply. Joad had already entered, and, still hugging a book,
stood looking grimly at the swaying figure of his patron. With his
back to the door, Edermont interrogated his ward and his friend.
"Has he gone? Is the gate closed--is it locked and barred?"
"He has gone, and the gate is safe," said Joad, for Dora was too
astonished by the oddity of these questions to reply.
Edermont wiped the sweat from his forehead, nodded weakly, and finally
subsided into an armchair. Here he bowed his face in his hands, and
Dora caught the drift of the words which he muttered in a low voice.
They were those of his favourite prayer from the Litany.
"'From battle and murder, and from sudden death, good Lord, deliver
us,'" moaned the man; and then in some measure he recovered his
serenity.
Seized with a sudden anger at the abject terror he had displayed, at
the shameful accusation he had levelled against her lover, Dora
stepped forward and faced Mr. Edermont with an indignant look.
"Now that you feel better," she said coldly, "perhaps you will afford
me an explanation."
Edermont looked at her in a dazed manner. He was a little man,
scarcely five feet in height, and had a noble head, which seemed out
of place on so insignificant a body. With his long white locks and
streaming beard, he was quite an imposing figure when seated; but when
standing, the smallness of his body, of his hands and feet, detracted
from the majesty of his patriarchal looks. Also, his eyes were timid
and restless; the silvery beard, which swept his breast, hid a weak
mouth; and, stripped of his venerable disguise, Mr. Edermont would, no
doubt, have looked what he was--a puny, irresolute, and insignificant
animal. As it was, he imposed on everyone--until they knew him better.
Dora had long since fathomed the narrow selfishness of his nature, and
she saw him for what he was, not as he appeared to the outside world.
It is but fair to add that she always treated him with deference in
public.
At the present moment there was no need to keep up appearances,
and Dora spoke brusquely to the little man. In her heart she had
as great a contempt for him as she had a disgust for Joad. They were
both objectionable, she considered, and each had but one redeeming
point--the noble head of Edermont, the noble voice of his friend.
Beyond these, the first was more of a rabbit than a man; the second
rather a satyr than a human being. Never had Dora detested the pair
more than she did at the present moment.
"I am waiting for your explanation, Mr. Edermont," she said again, as
he did not reply.
"I have no explanation for you," retorted her guardian wearily; "go
away, Dora, and leave me in peace."
The girl took a seat, and folded her arms.
"I don't leave this room until I know why Allen left the house," she
said firmly.
"What has that to do with you?" cried Edermont in shrill anger; "our
conversation was about private matters."
"It was about Lady Burville."
"What do you know of that woman?" he demanded, shrinking back.
"I know that the mere sight of her caused you to faint," said Dora
slowly, "and I know also that she was acquainted with Allen's father."
"Lambert, you have betrayed me!" said Edermont in a tone of terror.
"You have betrayed yourself, Julian," was Joad's reply. "I can guess
why Allen Scott left the house."
"I--I could not help myself. I was--oh, I was afraid," muttered
Edermont, passing his hand over his eyes.
"You have cause to be afraid--now," retorted Joad; and with a look of
contempt at the shrinking figure of his friend he turned and left the
room. Dora waited until his heavy footsteps died away, then she turned
again to Edermont.
"Why did Allen leave the house?" she asked with obstinate insistence.
"That is my business."
"And mine also. I have a right to know why you have driven away the
man whom I am about to marry."
Edermont burst into unpleasant mirth. "That's all over and done with,
my dear," he said, staring at her. "Allen Scott will never marry
you--now."
"What have you told him?" she gasped, turning pale.
"I have told him something which will keep him away from this
house--something which will prevent him from ever seeing you again."
"What do you mean, Mr. Edermont?"
She had risen to her feet, and was standing over him with flushed face
and indignant eyes. To force his speech she gripped the shoulder of
the man until he winced with pain.
"You have said something against me," she continued, giving him a
slight shake.
"I have been saying nothing against you. I am truly sorry for you,
Dora."
"Sorry for me, Mr. Edermont? Why?"
"Because of your parents," said her guardian slowly.
Dora stepped back. Since she had been brought by Edermont to the Red
House, a year-old babe, he had never mentioned the name of her
parents. All questions she had put to him had been put aside. That her
father and mother were dead, that she inherited five hundred a year,
and that Mr. Edermont was her guardian until she reached the age of
twenty-one--these facts were known to her; beyond them, nothing. Now
it would seem that some mystery was connected with the dead, and that
Mr. Edermont was about to divulge it.
"What did my parents do that you should be sorry for me?" she asked
pointedly.
"I shall never tell you what they did, Dora. I have hinted too much
already. It is sufficient for you to know that they sinned, and that
their sin will be visited on you."
"How dare you speak to me like this!" cried Dora, clenching her hands;
"what right have you to terrify me with vague hints? I demand an
explanation!"
"You will never obtain one--from me," said Edermont in a quavering
voice; "and if you are wise you will seek one nowhere else."
"I shall ask Allen."
"He is bound by a promise to me not to tell you."
"Then, I shall question Lady Burville."
Edermont rose with a bound, and gripped her arm with a strength of
which she had not thought him capable.
"Girl," he cried earnestly, "do not go near that woman! She is an evil
woman--one who has brought harm in the past, and will bring harm in
the future. When I saw her in church it was no wonder that I turned
faint. She has hunted me down; and she brings trouble in her train.
Leave me to fight my own battles, Dora, and come not into the fray. If
you cross her path she will show you such mercy as she has shown me. I
implore you to say nothing, to think nothing. If you disobey me I
cannot save you; you must be your own salvation."
Throughout this strange speech he kept his eyes fixed upon her face.
When it was ended he dropped her arm and turned away.
"Leave me now," he said faintly; "I--I am not myself."
The poor creature seemed so exhausted that it would have been absolute
cruelty to have questioned him further, and, anxious as Dora was to do
so, she was moved from sheer pity to spare him. Without a word she
left the room, closing the door after her, and went slowly downstairs
to the hall. Here she paused and considered.
"I knew that some evil was coming," she thought, with a chill of fear,
"and my premonition has come to pass. According to that coward
upstairs, there is danger and evil on all sides. He has separated me
from Allen; he warns me against Lady Burville; yet he refuses to
enlighten my ignorance, and warns me against going to others. But I
must know; I must learn what it is that threatens the future happiness
of Allen and myself. I can't sit down with folded arms and await the
bolt from the blue. I must know, I must consider, I must act."
Against two people Edermont had warned her, but he had omitted to
specify a third. Out on the lawn, under the cedars, Dora saw the black
figure of Joad. It would appear from his parting words to his patron
that he knew what had been told to Allen. Dora was on the point of
crossing to him, and wringing, if possible, the truth from his
reluctant lips, but her instinctive repulsion to the man prevented her
from taking him into her confidence. If she wanted help, she must rely
on herself or upon Allen. He was her affianced lover, and she felt
that she could trust him. But if his lips were sealed by the promise
given to Edermont, why----
"But he will tell me--he must tell me," she said, with an angry stamp.
"I shall go into Canterbury at once." She glanced at the old clock in
the hall, which chimed half-past two. "I shall go at once," repeated
Dora, and went for her bicycle.
At the gate she found Joad, with the key in his hand. He cast a
sidelong look at her bicycle, and explained his presence on the spot.
"I quite forgot to lock the gate, Miss Dora," he said, in his deep
tones; "it was fortunate for Dr. Scott that I did not, and unfortunate
for you."
"Why was it unfortunate for me, Mr. Joad?" she asked coldly.
"Because, if Dr. Scott had not been able to get out, he would have
been forced to remain; and if he had remained," said Joad, with
another glance at the machine, "he might have saved you a journey to
Canterbury."
"How do you know that I am going to Canterbury?"
"I guessed it. You wish to obtain from Scott the explanation which
Julian refuses. As I said, it was unlucky Scott found this gate
unlocked, else he might have made his explanation here."
"You are a shrewd observer, Mr. Joad," was Dora's reply; "and I admit
that you are right. I am going to see Dr. Scott, as you say."
"It is a hot day, and a long journey. You will experience discomfort."
"Probably I shall," said Dora, with a significant look. "Suppose you
save me the journey, Mr. Joad, and explain this mystery yourself?"
"To what mystery are you alluding, young lady?" asked Joad with
childlike blandness.
"To the mystery of Allen's sudden departure. You know the reason for
it. I heard you say so myself to Edermont."
"Mr. Edermont's secrets are not my secrets, and I do not betray my
friends."
"You are wonderfully scrupulous," said Miss Carew scornfully. "Well, I
won't ask you to play the part of a traitor. Allen will tell me what I
want to know."
"I am afraid Allen will do no such thing, Miss Dora."
"I have a right to know what bar there is to my marriage."
"I agree with you there," replied Joad, putting the key in the lock of
the gate. "All the same, Dr. Scott will keep his own counsel. But I'll
tell you one thing, Miss Dora--Julian is right: you will never marry
Allen Scott."
"Who will stop the marriage?" asked Dora indignantly.
"Scott himself. He will ask you to break the engagement."
Dora looked at Joad with ineffable contempt, and wheeled the bicycle
out on the dusty road.
"I will never believe that until I hear it from his own lips," she
said. And the next moment she was spinning at full speed towards
Canterbury.
Joad looked after her with a grim smile, and locked the gates with the
greatest deliberation. Then he went up to the house, swinging the key
on his finger and talking aloud.
"This," said Joad, chuckling, "is the beginning of the end."