Part 59 (2/2)
He went out, with his curious grin, amused, and enjoying the idea of a proud fellow like that being taken in with Sepia.
”I hope devoutly he'll marry her!” he said to himself as he went to his luncheon. ”Then I shall hold a rod over them both, and perhaps buy that miserable little Thornwick. Mortimer would give the skin off his back for it.”
The thing that ought to be done had to be done, and Mary had done it--alas! to no purpose for the end desired: what was left her to do further? She could think of nothing. Sepia, like a moral hyena, must range her night. She went to bed, and dreamed she was pursued by a crowd, hooting after her, and calling her all the terrible names of those who spread evil reports. She woke in misery, and slept no more.
CHAPTER LII.
A SUMMONS.
One hot Sat.u.r.day afternoon, in the sleepiest time of the day, when nothing was doing; and n.o.body in the shop, except a poor boy who had come begging for some string to help him fly his kite, though for the last month wind had been more scarce than string, Jemima came in from Durnmelling, and, greeting Mary with the warmth of the friends.h.i.+p that had always been true between them, gave her a letter.
”Whom is this from?” asked Mary, with the usual human waste of inquiry, seeing she held the surest answer in her hand.
”Mr. Mewks gave it me,” said Jemima. ”He didn't say whom it was from.”
Mary made haste to open it: she had an instinctive distrust of everything that pa.s.sed through Mewks's hands, and greatly feared that, much as his master trusted him, he was not true to him. She found the following note from Mr. Redmain:
”DEAR MISS MARSTON: Come and see me as soon as you can; I have something to talk to you about. Send word by the bearer when I may look for you. I am not well.
”Yours truly,
”F. G. REDMAIN.”
Mary went to her desk and wrote a reply, saying she would be with him the next morning about eleven o'clock. She would have gone that same night, she said, but, as it was Sat.u.r.day, she could not, because of country customers, close in time to go so far.
”Give it into Mr. Redmain's own hand, if you can, Jemima,” she said.
”I will try; but I doubt if I can, miss,” answered the girl.
”Between ourselves, Jemima,” said Mary, ”I do not trust that man Mewks.”
”n.o.body does, miss, except the master and Miss Yolland.”
”Then,” thought Mary, ”the thing is worse than I had supposed.”
”I'll do what I can, miss,” Jemima went on. ”But he's so sharp!--Mr.
Mewks, I mean.”
After she was gone, Mary wished she had given her a verbal message; that she might have insisted on delivering in person.
Jemima, with circ.u.mspection, managed to reach Mr. Redmain's room unencountered, but just as she knocked at the door, Mewks came behind her from somewhere, and s.n.a.t.c.hing the letter out of her hand, for she carried it ready to justify her entrance to the first glance of her irritable master, pushed her rudely away, and immediately went in. But as he did so he put the letter in his pocket.
”Who took the note?” asked his master.
”The girl at the lodge, sir.”
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