Part 45 (1/2)

What he suffers in these intervals no words of mine can tell. On his death-bed you are to see him--not before; and then you shall be told the story of your mother's death. No, Victor, spare me now--all I can tell you I have told. I return home by the noon-day train; and, before I go, I should like to see this girl who is to be your wife. See, I will remain by this window, screened by the curtain. Can you not fetch her by some pretence or other beneath it, that I may look and judge for myself?”

”I can try,” he said, turning to go. ”I have your consent to tell her my father is alive? I will tell her no more--it is not necessary she should know _you_ are his keeper.”

”That much you may tell her--it is her right. When I have seen her, come to me and say good-by.”

”I shall not say good-by until I say it at Chester Station. Of course, I shall see you off. Wait here; if Edith is able to come out you shall see her. She kept her room this morning with headache.”

He left her, half-dazed with what he had heard. He went to the drawing-room--the Stuarts and Captain Hammond were there--not Edith.

”Has Edith come down?” he asked. ”I wish to speak to her for a moment.”

”Edith is prowling about in the rain, somewhere, like an uneasy ghost,”

answered Trixy; ”no doubt wet feet, and discomfort, and dampness generally are cures for headache; or, perhaps, she's looking for _you_.”

He hardly waited to hear her out before he started in pursuit. As if favored by fortune, he caught a glimpse of Edith's purple dress among the trees in the distance. She had no umbrella, and was wandering about pale and listless in the rain.

”Edith,” Sir Victor exclaimed, ”out in all this downpour without an umbrella? You will get your death of cold.”

”I never take cold,” she answered indifferently. ”I always liked to run out in the rain ever since I was a child. I must be an amphibious sort of animal, I think. Besides, the damp air helps my headache.”

He drew her hand within his arm and led her slowly in the direction of the window where the watcher stood.

”Edith,” he began abruptly, ”I have news for you. To call it bad news would sound inhuman, and yet it has half-stunned me. It is this--my father is alive.”

”Sir Victor!”

”Alive, Edith--hopelessly insane, but alive. That is the news Lady Helena and one other, have told me this morning. It has stunned me; I repeat--is it any wonder? All those years I have thought him dead, and to-day I discover that from first to last I have been deceived.”

She stood mute with surprise. His father alive--madness in the family.

Truly it would have been difficult for Sir Victor or any one else to call this good news. They were directly beneath the window. He glanced up--yes, a pale face gleamed from behind the curtain, gazing down at that other pale face by Sir Victor's side. Very pale, very set just now.

”Then if your father is alive, _he_ is Sir Victor and not you?”

Those were the first words she spoke; her tone cold, her glance unsympathetic.

His heart contracted.

”He will never interfere with my claim--they a.s.sure me of that. Alive in reality, he is dead, to the world. Edith, would it make any difference--if I lost t.i.tle and estate, would I also lose _you_?”

The beseeching love in his eyes might have moved her, but just at present she felt as though a stone lay in her bosom instead of a heart.

”I am not a sentimental sort of girl, Sir Victor,” she answered steadily. ”I am almost too practical and worldly, perhaps. And I must own it would make a difference. I have told you I am not in love with you--as yet--you have elected to take me and wait for that. I tell you now truthfully, if you were not Sir Victor Catheron, I would not marry you. It is best I should be honest, best I should not deceive you. You are a thousand times too good for so mercenary a creature as I am, and if you leave me it will only be serving me right. I don't want to break my promise, to draw back, but I feel in the mood for plain speaking this morning. If you feel that you can't marry me on those terms--and I don't deserve that you should--now is the time to speak.

No one will be readier than I to own that it serves me right.”

He looked and listened, pale to the lips.

”Edith, in Heaven's name, do you _wish_ me to give you up?”