Part 41 (1/2)
”And whose the fault? If you were truly innocent, you might have cleared yourself with a word.”
Arthur knew he might. But that word he had not dared to speak. At this juncture, Roland Yorke appeared. ”Here's Jenner's old clerk come in, sir,” said he to his master. ”He wants to see you, he says.”
”He can come in,” replied Mr. Galloway. ”Are you getting on with that copying?” he added to Arthur, as the latter was going out.
”Yes, sir.”
The gentleman, whom Roland Yorke designated as ”Jenner's old clerk,” was shut in with Mr. Galloway; and Roland, who appeared to be on the thorns of curiosity, arrested Arthur.
”I say, what is it that's agate? He has been going into fits, pretty near, over some letter that came, asking me five hundred questions about it. What have you to do with it? What does he want with you?”
”Some one has been sending him back the money, Roland. It came in a letter.”
Roland opened his eyes. ”What money?”
”The money that was lost. A twenty-pound note has come. He asked me whether it was the veritable note that was taken.”
”A twenty-pound note come!” repeated puzzled Roland.
”It's quite true, Roland. It purports to be sent by the stealer of the money for the purpose of clearing me.”
Roland stood for a few moments, profound surprise on his face, and then began to execute a triumphant hornpipe amidst the desks and stools of the office. ”I said it would come right some time; over and over again I said it! Give us your hand, old fellow! He's not such a bad trump after all, that thief!”
”Hush, Roland! you'll be heard. It may not do me much good. Galloway seems to doubt me still.”
”Doubt you still!” cried Roland, stopping short in his dance, and speaking in a very explosive tone. ”Doubt you _still_! Why, what would he have?”
”I don't know;” sighed Arthur. ”I have a.s.sured him I did not send it; but he fancies I may have done it to clear myself. He talks of calling in b.u.t.terby again.”
”My opinion then, is, that he wants to be transported, if he is to turn up such a heathen as that!” stamped Roland. ”What would he have, I ask? Another twenty, given him for interest? Arthur, dear old fellow, let's go off together to Port Natal, and leave him and his office to it! I'll find the means, if I rob his cash-box to get them!”
But Arthur was already beyond hearing, having waved his adieu to Roland Yorke and his impetuous but warm-hearted champions.h.i.+p. Anxious to get on with the task he had undertaken, he hastened home. Constance was in the hall when he entered, having just returned from Lady Augusta Yorke's.
His confidant throughout, his gentle soother and supporter, his ever ready adviser, Arthur drew her into one of the rooms, and acquainted her with what had occurred. A look of terror rose to her face, as she listened.
”Hamish has done it!” she uttered, in a whisper. ”This puts all doubt at an end. There are times--they have been times”--she burst into tears as she spoke--”when I have fondly tried to cheat myself that we were suspecting him wrongfully. Arthur! others suspect him.”
Arthur's face reflected the look that was upon hers. ”I trust not!”
”But they do. Ellen Huntley dropped a word inadvertently, which convinces me that he is in some way doubted there. She caught it up again in evident alarm, ere it was well spoken; and I dared not pursue the subject. It is Hamish who has sent this money.”
”You speak confidently, Constance.”
”Listen. I know that he has drawn money--papa's salary and his own: he mentioned it incidentally. A few days ago I asked him for money for housekeeping purposes, and he handed me a twenty-pound note, in mistake for a five-pound. He discovered the mistake before I did, and s.n.a.t.c.hed it back again in some confusion.”
'I can't give you that,' he said in a laughing manner, when he recovered himself. 'That has a different destination.' Arthur! that note, rely upon it, was going to Mr. Galloway.”
”When was this?” asked Arthur.
”Last week. Three or four days ago.”
Trifling as the incident was, it seemed to bear out their suspicions, and Arthur could only come to the same conclusion as his sister: the thought had already crossed him, you remember.
”Do not let it pain you thus, Constance,” he said, for her tears were falling fast. ”He may not call in b.u.t.terby. Your grieving will do no good.”
”I cannot help it,” she exclaimed, with a burst of anguish. ”How G.o.d is trying us!”
Ay! even as silver, which must be seven times purified, ere it be sufficiently refined.
CHAPTER XLVII.
DARK CLOUDS.
Constance Channing sat, her forehead buried in her hands. _How G.o.d was trying them!_ The sentence, wrung from her in the bitterness of her heart, but expressed the echo of surrounding things. Her own future blighted; Arthur's character gone; Tom lost the seniors.h.i.+p; Charley not heard of, dead or alive! There were moments, and this was one of them, when Constance felt almost beyond the pale of hope. The college school, meanwhile existed in a state of constant suspense, the sword of terror ever hanging over its head. Punishment for the present was reserved; and what the precise punishment would be when it came, none could tell. Talkative Bywater was fond of saying that it did not matter whether Miss Charley turned up or not, so far as their backs were concerned: they would be made to tingle, either way.
Arthur, after communicating to Constance the strange fact of the return of the money to Mr. Galloway, shut himself up in the study to pursue his copying. Tea-time arrived, and Sarah brought in the tea-things. But neither Hamish nor Tom had come in, and Constance sat alone, deep in unpleasant thoughts.
That it was Hamish who had now returned the money to Mr. Galloway, Constance could not entertain the slightest doubt. It had a very depressing effect upon her. It could not render worse what had previously happened, indeed, it rather mended it, insomuch as that it served to show some repentance, some good feeling; but it made the suspicion against Hamish a certainty; and there had been times when Constance had been beguiled into thinking it only a suspicion. And now came this new fear of Mr. b.u.t.terby again!
Hamish's own footstep in the hall. Constance roused herself. He came in, books under his arm, as usual, and his ever-gay face smiling. There were times when Constance almost despised him for his perpetual suns.h.i.+ne. The seriousness which had overspread Hamish at the time of Charley's disappearance had nearly worn away. In his sanguine temperament, he argued that not finding the body was a proof that Charley was yet alive, and would come forth in a mysterious manner one of these days.
”Have I kept you waiting tea, Constance?” began he. ”I came home by way of Close Street, and was called into Galloway's by Roland Yorke, and then got detained further by Mr. Galloway. Where's Arthur?”
”He has undertaken some copying for Mr. Galloway, and is busy with it,” replied Constance in a low tone. ”Hamis.h.!.+” raising her eyes to his face, as she gathered resolution to speak of the affair: ”have you heard what has happened?”
”That some good fairy has forwarded a bank-note to Galloway on the wings of the telegraph? Roland Yorke would not allow me to remain in ignorance of that. Mr. Galloway did me the honour to ask whether I had sent it.”
”You!” uttered Constance, regarding the avowal only from her own point of view. ”He asked whether you had sent it?”
”He did.”
She gazed at Hamish as if she would read his very soul. ”And what did--what did you answer?”
”Told him I wished a few others would suspect me of the same, and count imaginary payments for real ones.”
”Hamis.h.!.+” she exclaimed, the complaint wrung from her: ”how can you be so light, so cruel, when our hearts are breaking?”
Hamish, in turn, was surprised at this. ”I, cruel! In what manner, Constance? My dear, I repeat to you that we shall have Charley back again. I feel sure of it; and it has done away with my fear. Some inward conviction, or presentiment--call it which you like--tells me that we shall; and I implicitly trust to it. We need not mourn for him.”
”It is not for Charley: I do not speak of Charley now,” she sadly reiterated. ”You are straying from the point. Hamish, have you no love left for Arthur?”
”I have plenty of love for every one,” said Mr. Hamish.
”Then how can you behave like this? Arthur is not guilty; you know he is not. And look what he has to bear! I believe you would laugh at the greatest calamity! Sending back this money to Mr. Galloway has--has--sadly distressed me.”
Hamish turned his smiling eyes upon her, but his tone was grave. ”Wait until some great calamity occurs, Constance, and then see whether I laugh. Did I laugh that dreadful night and day that succeeded to Charley's loss? Sending back the money to Mr. Galloway is not a cause for sadness. It most certainly exonerates Arthur.”