MR. EDERMONT'S HIGH SPIRITS.
After that extraordinary conversation with Allen's housekeeper, Dora
returned home more mystified than ever. Like everyone else, Mrs. Tice
hinted at secrets of the past likely to affect the future, yet refused
any explanation of such hints. Edermont and Joad acted in the same
unsatisfactory way, and Allen, to avoid questioning, absented himself
from her presence. It was all very tiresome, she thought, and
perfectly inexplicable. Only one fact stood out clearly in Dora's
mind, namely, that Lady Burville was responsible for all this
confusion; therefore, she argued, Lady Burville must hold the clue to
a possible disentanglement. This was logical.
Had Dora obeyed the impulse of her nature, she would have gone
directly to the cause of these perplexities and have demanded an
unravelment. She would have put her questions in the crudest form,
thus:
"My guardian was moved by the sight of you, and he orders me to avoid
you. Your name formed the gist of conversation between my guardian and
my lover, with the result that Mr. Edermont tells me I shall never
marry Allen. Mrs. Tice, who is ignorant of your inexplicable
influence, asserts the same thing; and the creature Joad hints that
you knew Allen's father. On the surface these matters appear to be
disconnected and incoherent; but I feel certain that a word from you
will render them explicable. You must say that word to me, since it is
upon me that the trouble you have created has descended."
So Dora thought, ranging the facts in such vague order as her
ignorance permitted; but as she did not know Lady Burville, and had no
plausible excuse for seeking her, she was forced to remain in
ignorance for want of the explanation which she felt sure the woman
could have supplied.
In her present dilemma, Dora, with her usual good sense, recognised
that there was nothing to be done but to remain quiescent, and wait.
Later on Allen would return from London--indeed, Mrs. Tice expected
him back that day--and then he would be forced to explain his conduct.
That explanation might put the matter in a plain light, and do away
with the fiats of Mrs. Tice and Edermont regarding the impossibility
of her marriage with Allen. Come what might, Dora was resolved that
she would not give up her lover and spoil her life. But, pending
explanation and resultant adjustment of the situation, she held her
peace, and waited. The future was--the future. Dora knew no more than
that.
For a week after that day of mysteries, life progressed as usual at
the Red House. Joad came and went with his usual punctuality, and eyed
Dora in a furtive manner, with a distinct avoidance of explanation.
Edermont recovered his nerve to some extent, and moved in his
accustomed petty orbit; and Dora, lacking other interests, attended to
her household duties. To a casual spectator, all things would seem to
be going on as usual, the life would have appeared tranquil and dull;
but this was but surface calm. Beneath, dangerous elements were at
work, which later on were destined to--but it is no use to recur to
the hackneyed simile of a sleeping volcano.
All these seven days nothing was heard of Lady Burville or of Allen.
The former still continued to be a guest at Hernwood Hall, the latter
still remained in London. Not a line had been received from him by
Dora, and, hurt in her maidenly pride, she became offended by his
continued silence. Whatever extraneous circumstances had led to his
behaviour, _she_ had not caused the breach--for breach she considered
it--between them. Twice or thrice she had determined to go over to
Canterbury and question Mrs. Tice, but pride withheld her. She
remained at the Red House, waiting, waiting, and waiting. What else
could she do?
Mention has been made of the high wall which surrounded the mansion of
Mr. Edermont. This had been built by himself, and contained only two
entrances, one from the road--a tall gate with spikes on the top--the
other, a little door far down the right side. The house itself, like
these gates, was kept always bolted and barred, and Mr. Edermont
confessed to a fear of robbers. But, bearing in mind his particular
prayer in the Litany, Dora was certain in her own mind that a greater
fear than this moved him to take such precautions.
When Joad had retired to his cottage at nine o'clock, Mr. Edermont
accompanied him personally to the gates, and saw that they were bolted
and barred. Afterwards he examined the side postern, and then
retreated to the mansion, where he closed the iron-clamped shutters
and locked every door throughout the house. The woman who cooked and
cleaned, and did all the work, was locked up in the kitchen, with
bedroom adjoining, like a prisoner; Dora was barred in her own set of
rooms, and Mr. Edermont shut himself up in equal isolation. Ever since
Dora could remember, these precautions had been taken, and by night
she felt as though she were in gaol. Certainly burglars could not
break in; but, on the other hand, none of the three inmates could get
out unless permitted to do so by the caprice of Mr. Edermont. And on
this point he had no caprice.
A week after his conversation with Allen--the conversation which had
terminated in so unexpected a manner--Edermont sat in his study. This
was a small oak-panelled room on the left side of the house, and was
entered directly from the hall. It was plainly, even penuriously,
furnished, containing little beyond a bureau of innumerable drawers
and cupboards, a dingy sofa, and three chairs, the most comfortable of
which was placed in front of the desk. On the walls were paintings
dark with age, and an assortment of flint pistols, ancient swords,
savage weapons from Africa and the South Seas, and portions of rusty
armour. A window looked out directly on the lawn, but there were two
doors, one of which led into the hall, the other, on the opposite
side, into the faded and lonely drawing-room, which was never used.
This latter apartment had three windows in the same position as that
of the study, and also a glass-door with shutters at the side of the
house. The view from this door was bounded by a hedge of untrimmed
laurel-trees. So much for the scene. Now for the drama.
To Edermont, seated at his desk on this particular morning, entered
Joad, with a card held between a dingy finger and thumb. He advanced
towards his friend with a malignant grin, and dropped the card on to
the blotting-pad.
"Here is something likely to startle you, Julian," said he with his
usual familiarity. "Mr. Augustus Pallant, on behalf of Laura Burville,
is waiting to see you."
The miserable Edermont turned pale, and began to whimper.
"Oh, Lambert, do you think he means to do me harm?"
"If he does, it is on behalf of your dear Laura," replied Joad
quietly; "you had better pluck up your courage, Julian, and see him."
"It might be dangerous, Lambert. Oh dear, terribly dangerous!"
"It will be more dangerous if you don't see the man."
"Why so? After twenty years Laura can do nothing."
"I am not so sure of that, Julian. She might tell Dora who she is."
The mere suggestion struck a blow at the timid heart of Edermont.
"I'll see him! I'll see him!" he cried, getting nervously on his feet.
"Admit him, Lambert, and bring him here. But"--he buttonholed his
friend--"remain within hearing, Lambert. He might do me an injury. I
am not strong, you know."
"You are a contemptible little coward!" snarled Joad, shaking him off.
"I'll look after you. There is too much to lose for me to risk your
death."
Edermont threw up his hands with a cry.
"Not that word, Lambert; there can be no danger after twenty years.
'From battle and murder, and from sudden death, good Lord, deliver
us.'"
As was his custom, Joad sneered at this prayer, which Edermont had
offered up daily for the last twenty years, and went out of the house.
In a few minutes he returned with a tall, red-haired man, whom he
introduced silently into the study. After the introduction he closed
the door, and went across to his favourite seat under the cedar to
await events. The first which occurred was the coming of Dora.
She had seen the introduction of the stranger from her window, and,
wondering what the visit might portend--for visitors were rare at the
Red House--she waited a reasonable time, then sought Joad on the lawn.
He looked up at her graceful figure with admiration in his eyes--a
look which Dora resented. It had occurred to her on more than one
occasion that, notwithstanding his age and physical defects, this
creature, as she termed him, had presumed to fall in love with her.
However, as at present he limited his mistaken passion to looks, she
merely frowned at his amorous glances, and asked her question.
"Why has Mr. Pallant called?" she demanded.
"How do you know that is his name?" asked Joad, without altering his
position.
"Dr. Scott described him to me," she said curtly. "Why has he called?"
"Julian can answer that question better than I can," answered Joad,
with a chuckle at baffling her curiosity, and returned to his reading.
Dora, who knew that he revenged himself thus for the frown she had
bestowed on him, strove to assuage his childish petulance.
"I think you might be civil, Mr. Joad," said she in an offended tone.
"I have no friend but you."
"What about Allen Scott?"
"There is no question of friendship there," said Dora stiffly. "Allen
Scott is my affianced husband."
"Ho, ho! Your affianced husband!" jeered Silenus, grinning. "Well,
Miss Dora, while Dr. Scott holds that position, I am no friend to
you."
"Why not?" asked Dora, nettled by the hinted menace in his tone.
"It's too long to explain; it's too early yet for plain speaking. But
look you here, Miss Dora: a man is as old as he feels, not as he
looks. I feel twenty-two--and at twenty-two"--he leant forward with a
sly smile--"one falls in love."
"You are talking nonsense!" retorted Miss Carew, drawing back; "and
your conversation is not to the point. I ask you why Mr. Pallant
called to see my guardian."
"And I answer as I answered before," replied Joad, rendered sullen by
the rebuff, "that you had better ask Julian. As I am not your friend,
you can't ask me to tell you my secrets."
"I don't want to know your secrets, but those of Mr. Edermont."
"Then, speak to the right person," said Joad rudely. "I am not
Julian."
After which speech he began reading again, utterly oblivious of the
presence of the girl he admired. Dora made no reply, but went back to
the house. At the door she was met by her guardian in a state of wild
excitement. He ran out, shouting and holding out his hands. Behind him
appeared the tall and well-dressed form of Mr. Pallant.
"Dora! Lambert!" shouted Edermont wildly. "Congratulate me! My
nightmare is at an end! I am free! I am safe!"
Then he ran over to Joad, and talked to him with much gesticulation.
Thinking her guardian had suddenly gone out of his mind, Dora turned
to Mr. Pallant for an explanation. He stared at her with undisguised
admiration, and she resented it, as she had done that of Joad, with a
frown.
"What is the matter with Mr. Edermont?" she asked abruptly.
"Why," said Mr. Pallant in a slow and sleepy voice, "I have brought
him some good news."
"What good news?"
"I think Mr. Edermont will inform you himself," said Pallant.
And at that moment Edermont, still overwhelmed with joy, came running
back.
"I am safe--safe!" he shouted; "and after twenty years of dread. No
more of the Litany, no more of the--O God!"
His joy was too much for him, and he rolled over on the ground in a
dead faint, at the very feet of Dora and Pallant.