THE PRICE OF A LIFE.
"Lady, I have other proof. Read that. Perhaps you have seen William
Jessup's writing. Read that."
Lady Rose took the letter and read it. Now, indeed, her cheek did
blanch, and her blue eyes widened with horror.
"This is strange," she said, growing whiter and whiter. "Strange, but
impossible--quite impossible!"
"Coupled with my evidence, it is enough to hang any man in England,"
said Storms, reaching out his hand for the paper, which she returned
to him in a dazed sort of dream.
"What do you want, young man? How do you mean to use this letter?"
"I have told Sir Noel what I mean, Lady Rose. I am a poor man, he is a
rich one. I only asked a little of his wealth in exchange for his
son's life."
"Well?"
"He would not listen to me. He ordered me from the house. He tried not
to believe me, so tough is his pride. It might have been disbelief; it
might have been rage that made him so white; but he looked like a
marble man, face, neck, and hands. That was after the first hint. He
gave me no chance to tell the whole, though I had this letter in my
pocket."
"Then you gave him no proof?" questioned Lady Rose, eagerly.
"Proof? He did not wait for that. No dog was ever ordered from a door
as I was. But he shall have the letter; he shall hear all that I have
told you. Then he will come to terms."
"He never will!" murmured Lady Rose. "Not even to save his son's
life!"
This was said under the lady's breath.
"And if he does not?" she questioned. "If he refuses to pay your
price?"
"Then Sir Noel cannot expect me to be more merciful to his son than he
is."
"What is it--tell me exactly--what is it you demand for your silence,
and that paper?"
Storms took a folded sheet of foolscap from his pocket, and handed it
to Lady Rose, who made an attempt to read it, but her hand shook so
violently that the lines mingled together, like seaweed on a wave.
"I cannot read it; tell me."
Storms took the paper which he had prepared for Sir Noel, and read it
aloud. His hand was firm enough; the agitation that shook the frame of
that brave, beautiful girl, reassured him. He was certain of her
influence with Sir Noel.
"Land, free hunting, the house of a gentleman. I wonder he asks so
little. Does he know what a life like that is worth to us?" she
thought.
"There is one thing more," said Storms. "Those things I demand for my
silence. The paper I only give up when Ruth Jessup is my wife."
Lady Rose seemed to waive the subject aside as an after-consideration.
"Land and house," she said, drawing a deep breath, as if some idea had
become a resolution in her mind. "Tell me, must they be in this
county?"
"If Sir Noel had land in another part of England I should like it
better. One might set up for a gentleman with more success among
strangers," was the cool reply.
"I can give you all these things in a part of England where you have
never been heard of," said the lady. "Only remember this: there must
be no more appeals to Sir Noel. He must never see that paper. It must
never be mentioned again to any human being. That is my condition."
"But, lady, can you make this certain? Sir Noel is your guardian."
"Not as regards this property. Have no fear, I promise it."
"And Ruth--Ruth Jessup? Without her all this goes for nothing."
"Ah, if, as you say, she loves you, that is easy. To a woman who
loves, all things are possible."
"She did love me once," muttered Storms, beginning to lose heart.
"Then she loves you yet. Ruth is an honest girl, and with such change
is impossible. To love once is to love forever; knowing her, you ought
to be sure of this. Besides, it is understood that she is promised to
you."
"She is promised to me," answered Storms, with some show of doubt,
"and if it had not been--"
The young man broke off. The blue eyes of Lady Rose were fixed on him
with such shrinking wistfulness that he changed the form of his
speech.
"If it had not been for the hurt her father got, we might have been
wedded before now."
A pang of conscience came over Lady Rose when she thought of pretty
Ruth Jessup as the wife of this man who was even then trading on the
life of a fellow-being. But a course of reasoning, perhaps
unconsciously selfish, blinded her to the misery she might bring on
that young creature, should it chance that the union was distasteful
to her. She even made the property, with which the bridegroom would be
endowed, a reason for wishing the marriage. "Ruth is such a sweet
little lady," she reasoned, "that the life of a man who worked on his
own grounds would be coarse and rude to her. In some sort we are
giving her the place of a gentlewoman. Besides, she must love the man.
Everything goes to prove that--their walks in the park, his own word.
Yes, I am doing good to her. It is a benefaction, not a bribe."
All these thoughts passed through the mind of Lady Rose swiftly, and
with a degree of confusion that baffled her clear judgment. Having
resolved to redeem the good name of her guardian's son on any terms,
she sought to reconcile those terms with the fine sense of honor that
distinguished her above most women.
"Remember," she said, with dignity, "I will give you the property you
demand, partly for the benefit of Ruth Jessup, and partly because I
would save my guardian from annoyance. Not that I for one moment
believe the horrid thing you have told me. I know it to be an
impossibility."
"The courts will think their own way about that," answered Storms. "An
honest man's oath, backed with this letter, will be tough things to
explain there."
"It is because they are difficult to explain that I have listened to
you for a moment," said Lady Rose. "For twice the reward you demand, I
would not have a suspicion thrown on my guardian's son. Of any more
serious evil I have no fear."
"Well, my lady, take it your own way, believe what you like. So long
as I get the property, and the wife I want, we won't quarrel about
what they are given for. Only both those things I am bound to have."
"But I cannot force Ruth Jessup to marry any man," said Lady Rose.
"All the same. It is your business now to see that she keeps to her
old bargain. Or all we have agreed upon goes for nothing."
The man was getting more familiar, as this conversation went on. The
sensitive pride of the young lady was aroused by his growing demands,
and she dismissed him, almost haughtily.
"Go now," she said. "I will think of a safe method by which this
transfer can be made. In a day or two I will see you again. Till then
be silent, and prepare yourself to deliver up that paper."
"But Ruth Jessup. What of her?"
"I will see Ruth. She has a kind heart. I will see Ruth."
"Then good-day, my lady. You shall see that I know how to hold my
tongue, and remember kindness too! Good-day, my lady."
Lady Rose watched the young man as he glided off through the
wilderness, with flashing eyes and rising color. Up to this time she
had held her feelings under firm control. Now terror, loathing, and
haughty scorn kindled up the soft beauty of her face into something
grandly strange.
"Slanderer! Wretch! The lands I do not care for. But that I should be
compelled to urge pretty Ruth Jessup on a creature like that. Can she
love him? I will go at once, or loathing of the task will keep me back
forever."