Part 31 (2/2)
”Thank you so much,” said Isobel. ”That takes a great weight off my mind. G.o.dfrey, my dear, I apologise to you for my doubts. The truth did occur to me, but I thought it impossible that a clergyman,” here she looked again at Mr. Knight, ”could be a thief also who did not dare to own to his theft.”
”Never mind all that,” went on Sir John in his heavy, masterful voice.
”It stands like this. You,” and he pointed a fat finger at G.o.dfrey, ”are--well, I'll tell you what you are--you're just a cunning young fortune-hunter. You found out that this property and a good bit besides are coming to Isobel, and you want to collar the sag, like you did that of the old woman out in Lucerne. Well, you don't do it, my boy. I've other views for Isobel. Do you think I want to see her married to--to--the son of a fellow like that--a canting snuffler who prigs letters and splits on his own son?” and swinging the fat finger round he thrust it almost into the face of Mr. Knight.
”What did you say?” gasped G.o.dfrey. ”That I am a fortune-hunter?”
”Yes, that's what I said, and I'll repeat it if you like.”
”Then,” went on G.o.dfrey, speaking in a thick, low voice, for now his temper had mastered him thoroughly, ”I say that you are a liar. I say that you are a base and vulgar man who has made money somehow and thinks that this justifies him in insulting those who are not base or vulgar, because they have less money.”
”You infernal young scamp,” shouted Sir John in a roar like to that of an angry bull. ”Do you dare to call me a liar? Apologise at once, or----” and he stopped.
”I do not apologise. I repeat that you are a liar, the greatest liar I ever met. Now--or what?”
Thus spoke G.o.dfrey, drawing up his tall, slim young form to its full height, his dark eyes flas.h.i.+ng, his fine face alight with righteous rage. Isobel, who was standing quite still and smiling a little, rather contemptuously, looked at him out of the corners of her eyes and thought that anger became him well. Never before had he seemed so handsome to her approving judgment.
”Or this,” bellowed Sir John, and, lifting the tightly rolled umbrella he carried, he struck G.o.dfrey with all his strength upon the side of the head.
G.o.dfrey staggered, but fortunately the soft hat he was wearing, upon the brim of which the stroke fell, broke its weight to some extent, so that he was not really hurt. Only now he went quite mad in a kind of icy way, and, springing at Sir John with the lightness of a leopard, dealt him two blows, one with his left hand and the next with his right.
They were good, straight blows, for boxing had been his favourite amus.e.m.e.nt at Sandhurst where he was a middleweight champion. The first caught Sir John upon his thick lips which were badly cut against the teeth, causing him to stagger; while the second, that with the right, landed on the bridge of his nose and blacked both his eyes. This, so strong and heavy was it, notwithstanding Sir John's great weight, knocked him clean off his feet. Back he went, and in his efforts to save himself gripped Mr. Knight with one hand and with the other the legs of the early Victorian angel that surmounted Lady Jane's grave against which they were standing. Neither of these could withstand the strain. The angel, which was only pinned by lead-coated rivets to its base and the column behind, flew from its supports, as did Mr. Knight from his, so that in another second, the men having tripped against the surround of the grave, all three rolled upon the path, the marble luckily falling clear of both of them.
”Now I've done it,” said G.o.dfrey in a reflective voice as he contemplated the tangled ruin.
”Yes,” exclaimed Isobel, ”I think you have.”
Then they remained grim and silent while the pair, who were not really much injured, picked themselves up with groans.
”I am sorry that I knocked you down, since I am young and you are not,”
said G.o.dfrey, ”but I repeat that you are a liar,” he added by an afterthought.
Sir John spat out a tooth, and began to mop the blood from his nose with a silk pocket-handkerchief.
”Oh! you do, do you?” he said in a somewhat subdued voice. ”Well, you'll find out that I'm other things too before I'm done with you. And I repeat that you are fortune-hunting young rascal and that I would rather see my daughter dead than married to you.”
”And I say, G.o.dfrey, I would rather see you dead than married to her!”
broke in Mr. Knight, spitting out his words like an angry cat.
”I don't think that you need be afraid, Father,” answered G.o.dfrey quietly, although his rage burned as fiercely as ever. ”You have worked this business well, and it seems a little impossible now, doesn't it?
Listen, Sir John Blake. Not even for the sake of Isobel will I submit to such insults. I will not give her up, but I swear by G.o.d that while you are alive I will not marry Isobel, nor will I write to her or speak to her again. After you are dead, which I dare say will be before so very long,” and he surveyed the huge, puffy-fleshed baronet with a critical eye, ”then--if she cares to wait for me--I will marry her, hoping that in the meanwhile you may lose your money or dispose of it as you like.”
Sir John stared, still mopping his face, but finding no words. He feared death very much and this prophecy of it, spoken with such a ring of truth, as though the speaker knew, frightened him. At that moment in his heart he cursed the Reverend Mr. Knight and his tale-bearing, and wished most earnestly that he had never been led into interference with this matter. After all G.o.dfrey was a fine young man whom his daughter cared for, and might do well in life, and he had struck him first after offering him intentional and pre-arranged insult. Such were the thoughts that flashed through his somewhat muddled brain. Also another, that they were too late. The evil was done and never could be undone.
Then Isobel spoke in cold, clear tones, saying:
”G.o.dfrey is quite right and has been right all through. Had you, Father, and that man,” and she pointed contemptuously at Mr. Knight, ”left us alone we should have come and told you what had happened between us, and if you disapproved we would have waited until we were of full age and have married as we should have been free to do. But now that is impossible, for blows have pa.s.sed between you. After slandering him vilely, you struck G.o.dfrey first, Father, and he would not have been a man if he had not struck you back; indeed I should have thought little of him afterwards. Well, he has made an oath, and I know that he will keep it. Now I, too, make an oath which certainly I shall keep. I swear in the presence of both of you, by myself and by G.o.dfrey, that neither in this world or in any other, should I live again and have remembrance, will I marry any man or exchange tendernesses with any man, except himself. So all your plans come to nothing; yes, you have brought all this misery upon us for nothing, and if you want to found a great family, as I know you do, you had better marry again yourself and let me go my way. In any case, if I should survive you and should G.o.dfrey live, I will marry him after your death, even if we have to wait until we are old to do so. As to your fortune, I care nothing for it, being quite ready to work in the world with the help of the little I have.”
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