Part 17 (2/2)

”No, Mr Rubb, I don't want to say anything of the kind. If my money can be of any a.s.sistance to my brother--to my brother and you--you are welcome to the use of it, without any mortgage. I will show you a copy of the letter I sent to Mr Slow.”

”Thanks; a thousand thanks! and may I see the letter which Mr Slow wrote?”

”No, I think not. I don't know whether it would be right to show it to you.”

”I shouldn't think of doing anything about it; that is, resenting it, you know. Only then we should all be on the square together.”

”I think I'd better not. Mr Slow, when he wrote it, probably did not mean that I should show it to you.”

”You're right; you're always right. But you'll let me see your answer.”

Then Miss Mackenzie went to her desk, and brought him a copy of the note she had written to the lawyer. He read it very carefully, twice over; and then she could see, when he refolded the paper, that his eyes were glittering with satisfaction.

”Miss Mackenzie, Miss Mackenzie,” he said, ”I think that you are an angel!”

And he did think so. In so much at that moment he was at any rate sincere. She saw that he was pleased, and she was pleased herself.

”There need be no further trouble about it,” she said; and as she spoke she rose from her seat.

And he rose, too, and came close to her. He came close to her, hesitated for a moment, and then, putting one hand behind her waist, though barely touching her, he took her hand with his other hand. She thought that he was going to kiss her lips, and for a moment or two he thought so too; but either his courage failed him or else his discretion prevailed. Whether it was the one or the other, must depend on the way in which she would have taken it. As it was, he merely raised her hand and kissed that. When she could look into his face his eyes were full of tears.

”The truth is,” said he, ”that you have saved us from ruin;--that's the real truth. d.a.m.n all lying!”

She started at the oath, but in an instant she had forgiven him that too. There was a sound of reality about it, which reconciled her to the indignity; though, had she been true to her faith as a Stumfoldian, she ought at least to have fainted at the sound.

”I hardly know what I am saying, Miss Mackenzie, and I beg your pardon; but the fact is you could sell us up if you pleased. I didn't mean it when I first got your brother to agree as to asking you for the loan; I didn't indeed; but things were going wrong with us, and just at that moment they went more wrong than ever; and then came the temptation, and we were able to make everything right by giving up the t.i.tle-deeds of the premises. That's how it was, and it was I that did it. It wasn't your brother; and though you may forgive me, he won't.”

This was all true, but how far the truth should be taken towards palliating the deed done, I must leave the reader to decide; and the reader will doubtless perceive that the truth did not appear until Mr Rubb had ascertained that its appearance would not injure him. I think, however, that it came from his heart, and that it should count for something in his favour. The tear which he rubbed from his eye with his hand counted very much in his favour with Miss Mackenzie; she had not only forgiven him now, but she almost loved him for having given her something to forgive. With many women I doubt whether there be any more effectual way of touching their hearts than ill-using them and then confessing it. If you wish to get the sweetest fragrance from the herb at your feet, tread on it and bruise it.

She had forgiven him, and taken him absolutely into favour, and he had kissed her hand, having all but embraced her as he did so; but on the present occasion he did not get beyond that. He lacked the audacity to proceed at once from the acknowledgment of his fault to a declaration of his love; but I hardly think that he would have injured himself had he done so. He should have struck while the iron was hot, and it was heated now nearly to melting; but he was abashed by his own position, and having something real in his heart, having some remnant of generous feeling left about him, he could not make such progress as he might have done had he been cool enough to calculate all his advantages.

”Don't let it trouble you any more,” Miss Mackenzie said, when he had dropped her hand.

”But it does trouble me, and it will trouble me.”

”No,” she said, with energy, ”it shall not; let there be an end of it. I will write to Tom, and tell him that he is welcome to the money. Isn't he my brother? You are both welcome to it. If it has been of service to you, I am very happy that it should be so. And now, Mr Rubb, if you please, we won't have another word about it.”

”What am I to say?”

”Not another word.”

It seemed as though he couldn't speak another word, for he went to the window and stood there silently, looking into the street. As he did so, there came another visitor to Miss Mackenzie, whose ringing at the doorbell had not been noticed by them, and Miss Baker was announced while Mr Rubb was still getting the better of his feelings.

Of course he turned round when he heard the lady's name, and of course he was introduced by his hostess. Miss Mackenzie was obliged to make some apology for the gentleman's presence.

”Mr Rubb was expected next week, but business brought him down to-day unexpectedly.”

”Quite unexpectedly,” said Mr Rubb, making a violent endeavour to recover his equanimity.

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