Part 40 (1/2)
This checked him, and he stood thinking.
”Well,” she said, ”why don't you ring?”
”I do not ring,” he answered, ”because on the whole I think I had better let you go. I do not wish to be mixed up with you any more. You have done me mischief enough; you have finished by attempting to murder me. Go; I think that a convent is the best place for you; you are too bad and too dangerous to be left at large.”
”/Oh!/” she said, like one in pain. ”/Oh!/ and you are the man for whom I have come to this! Oh, G.o.d! it is a cruel world.” And she pressed her hands to her heart and stumbled rather than walked to the door.
Reaching it she turned, and her hands still pressing the coa.r.s.e blue gown against her heart, she leaned against the door.
”Edward,” she said, in a strained whisper, for her breath came thick, ”Edward--I am going for ever--have you /no/ kind word--to say to me?”
He looked at her, a scowl upon his handsome face. Then by way of answer he turned upon his heel.
And so, still holding her hands against her poor broken heart, she went out of the house, out of Boisingham and of touch and knowledge of the world. In after years these two were fated to meet once again, and under circ.u.mstances sufficiently tragic; but the story of that meeting does not lie within the scope of this history. To the world Belle is dead, but there is another world of sickness, and sordid unchanging misery and shame, where the lovely face of Sister Agnes moves to and fro like a ray of heaven's own light. There those who would know her must go to seek her.
Poor Belle! Poor shamed, deserted woman! She was an evil-doer, and the fatality of love and the unbalanced vigour of her mind, which might, had she been more happily placed, have led her to all things that are pure, and true, and of good report, combined to drag her into shame and wretchedness. But the evil that she did was paid back to her in full measure, pressed down and running over. Few of us need to wait for a place of punishment to get the due of our follies and our sins.
/Here/ we expiate them. They are with us day and night, about our path and about our bed, scourging us with the whips of memory, mocking us with empty longing and the hopelessness of despair. Who can escape the consequence of sin, or even of the misfortune which led to sin?
Certainly Belle did not, nor Mr. Quest, nor even that fierce-hearted harpy who hunted him to his grave.
And so good-bye to Belle. May she find peace in its season!
CHAPTER x.x.xVIII
COLONEL QUARITCH EXPRESSES HIS VIEWS
Meanwhile things had been going very ill at the Castle. Edward Cossey's lawyers were carrying out their client's instructions to the letter with a perseverance and ingenuity worthy of a County Court solicitor. Day by day they found a new point upon which to hara.s.s the wretched Squire. Some share of the first expenses connected with the mortgages had, they said, been improperly thrown upon their client, and they again and again demanded, in language which was almost insolent, the immediate payment of the amount. Then there was three months' interest overdue, and this also they pressed and clamoured for, till the old gentleman was nearly driven out of his senses, and as a consequence drove everybody about the place out of theirs.
At last this state of affairs began to tell upon his const.i.tution, which, strong as he was, could not at his age withstand such constant worry. He grew to look years older, his shoulders acquired a stoop, and his memory began to fail him, especially on matters connected with the mortgages and farm accounts. Ida, too, became pale and ill; she caught a heavy cold, which she could not throw off, and her face acquired a permanently pained and yet listless look.
One day, it was on the 15th of December, things reached a climax. When Ida came down to breakfast she found her father busy poring over some more letters from the lawyers.
”What is it now, father?” she said.
”What is it now?” he answered irritably. ”What, it's another claim for two hundred, that's what it is. I keep telling them to write to my lawyers, but they won't, at least they write to me too. There, I can't make head or tail of it. Look here,” and he showed her two sides of a big sheet of paper covered with statements of accounts. ”Anyhow, I have not got two hundred, that's clear. I don't even know where we are going to find the money to pay the three months' interest. I'm worn out, Ida, I'm worn out! There is only one thing left for me to do, and that is to die, and that's the long and short of it. I get so confused with these figures. I'm an old man now, and all these troubles are too much for me.”
”You must not talk like that, father,” she answered, not knowing what to say, for affairs were indeed desperate.
”Yes, yes, it's all very well to talk so, but facts are stubborn. Our family is ruined, and we must accept it.”
”Cannot the money be got anyhow? Is there /nothing/ to be done?” she said in despair.
”What is the good of asking me that? There is only one thing that can save us, and you know what it is as well as I do. But you are your own mistress. I have no right to put pressure on you. I don't wish to put pressure on you. You must please yourself. Meanwhile I think we had better leave this place at once, and go and live in a cottage somewhere, if we can get enough to support us; if not we must starve, I suppose. I cannot keep up appearances any longer.”
Ida rose, and with a strange sad light of resolution s.h.i.+ning in her eyes, came to where her father was sitting, and putting her hands upon his shoulders, looked him in the face.
”Father,” she said, ”do you wish me to marry that man?”
”Wish you to marry him? What do you mean?” he said, not without irritation, and avoiding her gaze. ”It is no affair of mine. I don't like the man, if that's what you mean. He is acting like--well, like the cur that he is, in putting on the screw as he is doing; but, of course, that is the way out of it, and the only way, and there you are.”
”Father,” she said again, ”will you give me ten days, that is, until Christmas Day? If nothing happens between this and then I will marry Mr. Edward Cossey.”