My Lady's Money Read online

  CHAPTER XIII.

  WHILE the strange proceedings of the steward were the subject ofconversation between Lady Lydiard and Mr. Troy, Moody was alone in hisroom, occupied in writing to Isabel. Being unwilling that any eyes buthis own should see the address, he had himself posted his letter; thetime that he had chosen for leaving the house proving, unfortunately,to be also the time proposed by her Ladyship for his interview with thelawyer. In ten minutes after the footman had reported his absence, Moodyreturned. It was then too late to present himself in the drawing-room.In the interval, Mr. Troy had taken his leave, and Moody's position haddropped a degree lower in Lady Lydiard's estimation.

  Isabel received her letter by the next morning's post. If anyjustification of Mr. Troy's suspicions had been needed, the terms inwhich Moody wrote would have amply supplied it.

  "DEAR ISABEL (I hope I may call you 'Isabel' without offending you, inyour present trouble?)--I have a proposal to make, which, whetheryou accept it or not, I beg you will keep a secret from every livingcreature but ourselves. You will understand my request, when I add thatthese lines relate to the matter of tracing the stolen bank-note.

  "I have been privately in communication with a person in London, who is,as I believe, the one person competent to help us in gaining our end.He has already made many inquiries in private. With some of them I amacquainted; the rest he has thus far kept to himself. The person to whomI allude, particularly wishes to have half an hour's conversation withyou in my presence. I am bound to warn you that he is a very strangeand very ugly old man; and I can only hope that you will look over hispersonal appearance in consideration of what he is likely to do for yourfuture advantage.

  "Can you conveniently meet us, at the further end of the row of villasin which your aunt lives, the day after to-morrow, at four o'clock? Letme have a line to say if you will keep the appointment, and if the hournamed will suit you. And believe me your devoted friend and servant,

  "ROBERT MOODY."

  The lawyer's warning to her to be careful how she yielded too readily toany proposal of Moody's recurred to Isabel's mind while she read thoselines. Being pledged to secrecy, she could not consult Mr. Troy--she wasleft to decide for herself.

  No obstacle stood in the way of her free choice of alternatives. Aftertheir early dinner at three o'clock, Miss Pink habitually retired toher own room "to meditate," as she expressed it. Her "meditations"inevitably ended in a sound sleep of some hours; and during thatinterval Isabel was at liberty to do as she pleased. After considerablehesitation, her implicit belief in Moody's truth and devotion, assistedby a strong feeling of curiosity to see the companion with whom thesteward had associated himself, decided Isabel on consenting to keep theappointment.

  Taking up her position beyond the houses, on the day and at the hourmentioned by Moody, she believed herself to be fully prepared for themost unfavorable impression which the most disagreeable of all possiblestrangers could produce.

  But the first appearance of Old Sharon--as dirty as ever, clothed ina long, frowzy, gray overcoat, with his pug-dog at his heels, and hissmoke-blackened pipe in his mouth, with a tan white hat on his head,which looked as if it had been picked up in a gutter, a hideous leerin his eyes, and a jaunty trip in his walk--took her so completelyby surprise that she could only return Moody's friendly greeting bysilently pressing his hand. As for Moody's companion, to look at him fora second time was more than she had resolution to do. She kept her eyesfixed on the pug-dog, and with good reason; as far as appearances went,he was indisputably the nobler animal of the two.

  Under the circumstances, the interview threatened to begin in a veryembarrassing manner. Moody, disheartened by Isabel's silence, made noattempt to set the conversation going; he looked as if he meditateda hasty retreat to the railway station which he had just left.Fortunately, he had at his side the right man (for once) in the rightplace. Old Sharon's effrontery was equal to any emergency.

  "I am not a nice-looking old man, my dear, am I?" he said, leering atIsabel with cunning, half-closed eyes. "Bless your heart! you'll soonget used to me! You see, I am the sort of color, as they say at thelinen-drapers, that doesn't wash well. It's all through love; uponmy life it is! Early in the present century I had my young affectionsblighted; and I've neglected myself ever since. Disappointment takesdifferent forms, miss, in different men. I don't think I have had heartenough to brush my hair for the last fifty years. She was a magnificentwoman, Mr. Moody, and she dropped me like a hot potato. Dreadful!dreadful! Let us pursue this painful subject no further. Ha! here's apretty country! Here's a nice blue sky! I admire the country, miss; Isee so little of it, you know. Have you any objection to walk along intothe fields? The fields, my dear, bring out all the poetry of my nature.Where's the dog? Here, Puggy! Puggy! hunt about, my man, and find somedog-grass. Does his inside good, you know, after a meat diet in London.Lord! how I feel my spirits rising in this fine air! Does my complexionlook any brighter, miss? Will you run a race with me, Mr. Moody, or willyou oblige me with a back at leap-frog? I'm not mad, my dear young lady;I'm only merry. I live, you see, in the London stink; and the smell ofthe hedges and the wild flowers is too much for me at first. It getsinto my head, it does. I'm drunk! As I live by bread, I'm drunk on freshair! Oh! what a jolly day! Oh! how young and innocent I do feel!" Herehis innocence got the better of him, and he began to sing, "I wish Iwere a little fly, in my love's bosom for to lie!" "Hullo! here we areon the nice soft grass! and, oh, my gracious! there's a bank runningdown into a hollow! I can't stand that, you know. Mr. Moody, hold myhat, and take the greatest care of it. Here goes for a roll down thebank!"

  He handed his horrible hat to the astonished Moody, laid himself flaton the top of the bank, and deliberately rolled down it, exactly as hemight have done when he was a boy. The tails of his long gray coat flewmadly in the wind: the dog pursued him, jumping over him, and barkingwith delight; he shouted and screamed in answer to the dog as he rolledover and over faster and faster; and, when he got up, on the levelground, and called out cheerfully to his companions standing above him,"I say, you two, I feel twenty years younger already!"--human gravitycould hold out no longer. The sad and silent Moody smiled, and Isabelburst into fits of laughter.

  "There," he said "didn't I tell you you would get used to me, Miss?There's a deal of life left in the old man yet--isn't there? Shy me downmy hat, Mr. Moody. And now we'll get to business!" He turned round tothe dog still barking at his heels. "Business, Puggy!" he called outsharply, and Puggy instantly shut up his mouth, and said no more.

  "Well, now," Old Sharon resumed when he had joined his friends and hadgot his breath again, "let's have a little talk about yourself, miss.Has Mr. Moody told you who I am, and what I want with you? Very good.May I offer you my arm? No! You like to be independent, don't you? Allright--I don't object. I am an amiable old man, I am. About this LadyLydiard, now? Suppose you tell me how you first got acquainted withher?"

  In some surprise at this question, Isabel told her little story.Observing Sharon's face while she was speaking, Moody saw that he wasnot paying the smallest attention to the narrative. His sharp, shamelessblack eyes watched the girl's face absently; his gross lips curledupwards in a sardonic and self-satisfied smile. He was evidently settinga trap for her of some kind. Without a word of warning--while Isabel wasin the middle of a sentence--the trap opened, with the opening of OldSharon's lips.

  "I say," he burst out. "How came _you_ to seal her Ladyship'sletter--eh?"

  The question bore no sort of relation, direct or indirect, to whatIsabel happened to be saying at the moment. In the sudden surprise ofhearing it, she started and fixed her eyes in astonishment on Sharon'sface. The old vagabond chuckled to himself. "Did you see that?" hewhispered to Moody. "I beg your pardon, miss," he went on; "I won'tinterrupt you again. Lord! how interesting it is!--ain't it, Mr. Moody?Please to go on, miss."

  But Isabel, though she spoke with perfect sweetness and temper, declinedto go on. "I had better tell you, sir, how I came to sea
l her Ladyship'sletter," she said. "If I may venture on giving my opinion, _that_part of my story seems to be the only part of it which relates to yourbusiness with me to-day."

  Without further preface she described the circumstances which had ledto her assuming the perilous responsibility of sealing the letter. OldSharon's wandering attention began to wander again: he was evidentlyoccupied in setting another trap. For the second time he interruptedIsabel in the middle of a sentence. Suddenly stopping short, he pointedto some sheep, at the further end of the field through which theyhappened to be passing at the moment.

  "There's a pretty sight," he said. "There are the innocent sheepa-feeding--all following each other as usual. And there's the sly dogwaiting behind the gate till the sheep wants his services. Reminds meof Old Sharon and the public!" He chuckled over the discovery of theremarkable similarity between the sheep-dog and himself, and the sheepand the public--and then burst upon Isabel with a second question. "Isay! didn't you look at the letter before you sealed it?"

  "Certainly not!" Isabel answered.

  "Not even at the address?"

  "No!"

  "Thinking of something else--eh?"

  "Very likely," said Isabel.

  "Was it your new bonnet, my dear?"

  Isabel laughed. "Women are not always thinking of their new bonnets,"she answered.

  Old Sharon, to all appearance, dropped the subject there. He lifted hislean brown forefinger and pointed again--this time to a house at a shortdistance from them. "That's a farmhouse, surely?" he said. "I'm thirstyafter my roll down the hill. Do you think, Miss, they would give me adrink of milk?"

  "I am sure they would," said Isabel. "I know the people. Shall I go andask them?"

  "Thank you, my dear. One word more before you go. About the sealing ofthat letter? What _could_ you have been thinking of while you were doingit?" He looked hard at her, and took her suddenly by the arm. "Was ityour sweetheart?" he asked, in a whisper.

  The question instantly reminded Isabel that she had been thinking ofHardyman while she sealed the letter. She blushed as the remembrancecrossed her mind. Robert, noticing the embarrassment, spoke sharply toOld Sharon. "You have no right to put such a question to a young lady,"he said. "Be a little more careful for the future."

  "There! there! don't be hard on me," pleaded the old rogue. "An ugly oldman like me may make his innocent little joke--eh, miss? I'm sure you'retoo sweet-tempered to be angry when I meant no offense.. Show me thatyou bear no malice. Go, like a forgiving young angel, and ask for themilk."

  Nobody appealed to Isabel's sweetness of temper in vain. "I will do itwith pleasure," she said--and hastened away to the farmhouse.