"Esther," said Helps, late that night, after Cherry, in a very sulky
humor, had gone to bed, "Esther, this is a very terrible, a very awful
thing for me!"
"How so, father!"
She was kneeling by his side. Now she put her arm round his neck, and
looked into his face. Her beating, throbbing, exulting heart told her
that her discovery of that day was new life to her.
"I am glad," she continued, after a solemn pause; "yes. I don't mind
owning I am very glad that a good man like Mr. Wyndham still lives."
"Child, you don't know what you are talking about. It is
awful--awful--his coming back. Even if he is alive he ought to have
stayed away. His coming back like this is terrible. It means, it
means----"
"What, father?"
"Child, it must never be known: he must be warned; he must go away at
once. Suppose anybody else saw him?"
"Father," said Esther.
She rose and stood over the shrinking old man.
"You have got to tell me the meaning of those queer words of yours. I
guessed there was a mystery about Mr. Wyndham; now I am certain. If I
don't know it before I leave the room to-night, I'll make mischief.
There!"
"Essie--Essie--I thought you had turned into a good girl."
"I'll turn bad again. Listen. I love that man. Not as a girl loves her
lover--not as a wife cares for her husband. He is married, and I
should not be ashamed to tell his wife how I love him. I glory in my
love; he saved me. Father, I wasn't coming home at all that night. He
saved me; you can understand how I feel for him. My life wouldn't be a
great deal to give up for him. There has been mischief done to him,
that I am sure. Now tell me the truth; then I'll know how to act. Oh,
father, you're the dearest and the kindest. Tell me the truth and you
won't repent it."
"No, Essie, child, I don't suppose I shall repent. Sit there. You know
too much, you may as well know all. Mr. Wyndham's life was insured."
"Yes?"
"Heavily, mark you, heavily."
"Yes." She covered her face with her hands. "Let me think. Say,
father"--she flung her hands into her lap--"was this done on purpose?"
"Ay, child, ay; and a better man never lived. Ay, it was done on
purpose."
"He was meant not to come back?"
"That's it, Essie, my dear. That's it."
"I see; yes, I see. Was the insurance money paid?"
"Every farthing of it, child. A large sum paid in full."
"If he appeared again it would have to be refunded?"
"If it could be, child."
"If it couldn't?"
"Then the story, the black story of why it was wanted, would have to
come out; and--and--Esther, is the door locked? Come close, Essie. Your
old father and my master would end our days in penal servitude."
"Now I see," said Esther.
She did not scream nor utter any loud exclamation, but began to pace
softly up and down the room. Mentally she was a strong girl; her calm
in this emergency proved her mettle.
After a few moments Helps began to speak; his words were wild and
broken.
"Over and over I thought I'd rather," he said. "Over, and over, and
over--when I saw what it meant for him, poor young gentleman. But I
can't, Essie, I can't. When it comes to the pinch I can't do it. We
thought he was dead, my master and I, and my master he went off his
head. And over he said, yes, over and over--'Helps, a clean cell and a
clean heart would be heaven to this.' But, bless you, Essie, he
couldn't stand it either at the pinch. We thought Mr. Wyndham lying
under the sea. Oh, poor young gentleman, he had no right to come back."
"No right? He has a wife and a child."
"A widow and orphan, you mean. No, Esther, he should have stayed away.
He made a vow, and he should have stuck to it."
"He has not broken his vow, father. Oh, father, what a wicked thing you
have done; you and that master to whom you have given your life. Now
let me think."
"You won't send me to prison, Esther?"
"No, no. Sit down. I must think things out. Even now I don't know
clearly about Mr. Wyndham; you have only treated me to
half-confidences. Stay, though, I don't wish to hear more. You mustn't
go to prison. Mr. Wyndham mustn't starve. I have it. Mr. Wyndham shall
come here."
"Esther!"
Poor old Helps uttered a shriek, which caused Cherry to turn uneasily
on her pillow.
"Keep yourself quiet, father. I'm a determined woman, and this thing
shall be. Mr. Wyndham shall eat of our bread, and we will shelter him;
and I--I, Esther Helps--will undertake to guard his secret and yours.
No one living shall guess who he is."
"You forget--oh, this is an awful thing to do. You forget--there's
Cherry."
"I'll blind Cherry. If I can't, she must go. I shall bring Mr. Wyndham
home to-morrow night!"
"Esther, this will kill me."
"No, it won't. On the contrary, you'll be a better and a happier man.
You wouldn't have him starve, when through him you have your liberty?
I'm ashamed of you."
She lit her candle and walked away.
Old Helps never went to bed that night.