One surprise makes many. The neighbourhood of Rickton had hardly
recovered from its astonishment about the fact that Elfrida had
thrown over Lord Ambert and accepted the curate, when a still
greater piece of news descended upon them.
Old Reginald Greatorex died on the very evening of the day that
saw Elfrida's emancipation, and a letter two days later from his
solicitors told Dillwyn that the old man had made him his heir.
Dillwyn went down to the funeral, and heard the will read. It was
all true. There were no near relations, and no entail. Reginald
was at liberty to leave his property as he chose--and he chose
now to leave Medlands and three thousand a year to the son of the
woman who had been the one love of his life.
To Mrs. Greatorex he left ten thousand pounds, to her immense
astonishment. She had expected nothing from him. It made her feel
quite rich, and on the spot she forgave him all.
Dillwyn, on his return, had an early interview with her. He was
determined to see her even before seeing Agatha, though he wrote
the latter an impassioned note out of the fullness of his heart.
Mrs. Greatorex received him with open arms and without a touch of
embarrassment. She told him in the frankest way that she had
always liked him--nay, _loved_ him; but, of course, he could
see that Agatha must be considered. She had constituted herself
her dear girl's guardian, and was it not her duty then to place
her as well in life as possible? But that was all over now, of
course, and her darling Agatha would be happy and comfortable as
well. When he was going away she kissed him, and told him she was
never so delighted in her life--she knew he was the only man in
the world who could make her dearest girl happy.
He had to go off in a hurry to see old General Montgomery, who
had had another slight attack last night, and who would allow no
doctor but Dillwyn near him. He had chafed greatly at the young
man's unavoidable absence during the past two days.
When he was gone, Mrs. Greatorex sent for Agatha. The girl quite
expected that she would have said something about Jack, but there
was no mention of him for some time; she dwelt largely on the
difference the ten thousand pounds would make in her income, and
then drifted off to Elfrida. She had behaved so wisely, she said.
"That is quite what I think," said Agatha. "She would have been
wretched with Lord Ambert."
"Absolutely so."
"No wonder!" said Agatha earnestly. "Such an odious man!"
"My dear, it wasn't the man, it was the position that frightened
her. A girl like that--of _no_ family, whose people kept a
_store_--to even _dream_ of being a countess was the most
outrageous presumption. At the last, you see, she shrank from it;
she felt she could not with any propriety wear a coronet. Her
brows were not formed for it by nature. It"--solemnly--"would
drop off. Now you, Agatha, you will indeed be a fitting mistress
for--Medlands!"
Agatha sat and stared. Mrs. Greatorex beamed back at her.
"I think," she said lightly, "you had better write a little line
to Dr. Darkham to terminate that unfortunate engagement."
"There was no engagement," said the girl proudly, "except my
engagement to Jack. I have had nothing to do with Dr. Darkham--
nothing!"
"Well--very little, certainly," said Mrs. Greatorex. She
smiled. "He has hardly anything to complain of, really. Hardly
_anything_. I shall send him a little diplomatic, friendly line
at once."
....
Under the trees it was charming, though many of them were now
losing their leaves. Agatha and Dillwyn sat beneath a huge beech,
and made sweet plans for their future. It was lovely to be alone,
and to be able to say everything that came straight from their
hearts without the necessity of whispering. Of course they could
not tell that just behind them, kneeling in the shelter of a
thick growth of young trees, was a man--a man whose face was
the face of a devil at that moment.
They arranged that they should live at Medlands, and they named
the day for their wedding. There was nothing to grieve them in
old Reginald's death.
"I feel as if I ought to be sorry for him," said he, with a
little self-reproach. "But somehow I can feel nothing but that I
can claim you now before the world."
"I was yours, whether the world knew it or not," said she.
"I know--I know.... Mrs. Greatorex has written to Darkham?"
"Yes; immediately after you left. He knows by this time that even
a question of an engagement is at an end."
The man behind smiled. There was a look on his face as though he
were jotting down something in his memory.
Dillwyn looked at his watch, and suddenly sprang to his feet.
"By Jove!" said he, "it's just two."
"Well, but that is very early," in an aggrieved tone.
"Too early"--with disgust. "But that poor old fellow is very
unstrung, and begged me to go back at two."
"The General?"
"Yes. I'll pull him through, I think; but he is very shaky and
nervous. I am going to sleep there to-night."
"Are you? Oh, I'm glad," said Agatha quickly.
"Glad! Why?"
"I don't know"--she hesitated. "Don't despise me for it, Jack;
but I do dread that horrible man, Dr. Darkham. Sometimes I think
he is mad. However, at General Montgomery's you will be safe."
Dillwyn laughed gaily, and caught her to him and kissed her.
Darkham kneeling there in his purgatory, had seen and heard
everything.... On such and such a day they were to be married.
All their young lives were to be a dream of joy!
When they were gone he fell prone upon the earth--with his face
to it, and so lay long without moving.
Then he raised himself and got slowly to his feet. He looked
round him for a moment vaguely, as though earth and sky and place
were strange to him. Then he turned and ran, crashing wildly
through brambles and bracken and furze, as though there was a
fiend out of hell pursuing him.... Perhaps there was.