Part 19 (1/2)

”Yes,” she said very faintly. The squire rose to his feet and paced the room in terrible agitation.

”But where?” he asked, stopping suddenly in his walk. ”Mrs. G.o.ddard, I think I have a right to ask where he is--why you have never spoken of him?”

By a supreme effort the unfortunate lady raised herself from her seat supporting herself upon one hand, and faced the squire with wildly staring eyes.

”You have a right to know,” she said. ”He is in Portland--sentenced to twelve years hard labour for forgery.”

She said it all, to the end, and then fell back into her chair. But she did not hide her face this time. The fair pathetic features were quite motionless and white, without any expression, and her hands lay with the palms turned upwards on her knees.

Charles James Juxon was a man of few words, not given to using strong language on any occasion. But he was completely overcome by the horror of the thing. He turned icy cold as he stood still, rooted to the spot, and he uttered aloud one strong and solemn e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, more an invocation than an oath, as though he called on heaven to witness the misery he looked upon. He gazed at the colourless, inanimate face of the poor lady and walked slowly to the window. There he stood for fully five minutes, motionless, staring out at the driving sleet.

Mrs. G.o.ddard had fainted away, but it did not occur to the squire to attempt to recall her to her senses. It seemed merciful that she should have lost consciousness even for a moment. Indeed she needed no help, for in a few minutes she slowly opened her eyes and closed them, then opened them again and saw Mr. Juxon's figure darkening the window against the grey light.

”Mr. Juxon,” she said faintly, ”come here, please.”

The squire started and turned. Then he came and sat down beside her. His face was very stern and grave, and he said nothing.

”Mr. Juxon,” said Mrs. G.o.ddard, speaking in a low voice, but with far more calm than he could have expected, ”you have a right to know my story. You have been very kind to me, you have made an honourable offer to me, you have said you were my friend. I ought to have told you before.

If I had had any idea of what was pa.s.sing in your mind, I would have told you, cost what it might.”

Mr. Juxon gravely bowed his head. She was quite right, he thought. He had a right to know all. With all his kind-heartedness he was a stern man by nature.

”Yes,” continued Mrs. G.o.ddard, ”you have every right to know. My husband,” her voice trembled, ”was the head of an important firm in London. I was the only child of his partner. Not long after my father's death I married Mr. G.o.ddard. He was an extravagant man of brilliant tastes. I had a small fortune of my own which my father had settled upon me, independent of his share in the firm. My guardians, of whom my husband was one, advised me to leave my father's fortune in the concern.

When I came of age, a year after my marriage, I agreed to do it. My husband--I never knew it till long afterwards--was very rash. He speculated on the Exchange and tampered with the deposits placed in his hands. We lived in great luxury. I knew nothing of his affairs. Three years ago, after we had been married nearly ten years, the firm failed.

It was a fraudulent bankruptcy. My husband fled but was captured and brought back. It appeared that at the last moment, in the hope of retrieving his position and saving the firm, he had forged the name of one of his own clients for a large amount. We had a country place at Putney which he had given to me. I sold it, with all my jewels and most of my possessions. I would have given up everything I possessed, but I thought of Nellie--poor little Nellie. The lawyers a.s.sured me that I ought to keep my own little fortune. I kept about five hundred a year. It is more than I need, but it seemed very little then. The lawyer who conducted the defence, such as it was, advised me to go abroad, but I would not. Then he spoke of Mr. Ambrose, who had educated his son, and gave me a note to him. I came here and I told Mr. Ambrose my whole story.

I only wanted to be alone--I thought I did right--”

Her courage had sustained her so far, but it had been a great effort. Her voice trembled and broke and at last the tears began to glisten in her eyes.

”Does Nellie know?” asked the squire, who had sat very gravely by her side, but who was in reality deeply moved.

”No--she thinks he--that he is dead,” faltered Mrs. G.o.ddard. Then she fairly burst into tears and sobbed pa.s.sionately, covering her face and rocking herself from side to side.

”My dear friend,” said Mr. Juxon very kindly and laying one hand upon her arm, ”pray try and calm yourself. Forgive me--I beg you to forgive me for having caused you so much pain--”

”Do you still call me a friend?” sobbed the poor lady.

”Indeed I do,” quoth the squire stoutly. And he meant it. Mrs. G.o.ddard dropped her hands and stared into the fire through her falling tears.

”I think you behaved very honourably--very generously,” continued Mr.

Juxon, who did not know precisely how to console her, and indeed stood much in need of consolation himself. ”Perhaps I had better leave you--you are very much agitated--you must need rest--would you not rather that I should go?”

”Yes--it is better,” said she, still staring at the fire. ”You know all about me now,” she added in a tone of pathetic regret. The squire rose to his feet.

”I hope,” he said with some hesitation, ”that this--this very unfortunate day will not prevent our being friends--better friends than before?”

Mrs. G.o.ddard looked up gratefully through her tears.

”How good you are!” she said softly.

”Not at all--I am not at all good--I only want to be your friend.

Good-bye--G--G.o.d bless you!” He seized her hand and squeezed it and then hurried out of the room. A moment later he was crossing the road with Stamboul, who was very tired of waiting, bounding before him.