Man and Wife Read online

inexperienced young creature to deal with on Monday next. I shall

  be there."

  With that formidable announcement, Lady Lundie closed the

  conversation; and Mrs. Glenarm rose to take her leave.

  "We meet at the Junction, dear Lady Lundie?"

  "At the Junction, on Saturday."

  ELEVENTH SCENE.--SIR PATRICK'S HOUSE.

  CHAPTER THE FORTY-SECOND.

  THE SMOKING-ROOM WINDOW.

  "I CAN'T believe it! I won't believe it! You're trying to part me

  from my husband--you're trying to set me against my dearest

  friend. It's infamous. It's horrible. What have I done to you?

  Oh, my head! my head! Are you trying to drive me mad?"

  Pale and wild; her hands twisted in her hair; her feet hurrying

  her aimlessly to and fro in the room--so Blanche answered her

  step-mother, when the object of Lady Lundie's pilgrimage had been

  accomplished, and the cruel truth had been plainly told.

  Her ladyship sat, superbly composed, looking out through the

  window at the placid landscape of woods and fields which

  surrounded Ham Farm.

  "I was prepared for this outbreak," she said, sadly. "These wild

  words relieve your over-burdened heart, my poor child. I can

  wait, Blanche--I can wait!"

  Blanche stopped, and confronted Lady Lundie.

  "You and I never liked each other," she said. "I wrote you a pert

  letter from this place. I have always taken Anne's part against

  you. I have shown you plainly--rudely, I dare say--that I was

  glad to be married and get away from you. This is not your

  revenge, is it?"

  "Oh, Blanche, Blanche, what thoughts to think! what words to say!

  I can only pray for you."

  "I am mad, Lady Lundie. You bear with mad people. Bear with me. I

  have been hardly more than a fortnight married. I love _him_--I

  love _her_--with all my heart. Remember what you have told me

  about them. Remember! remember! remember!"

  She reiterated the words with a low cry of pain. Her hands went

  up to her head again; and she returned restlessly to pacing this

  way and that in the room.

  Lady Lundie tried the effect of a gentle remonstrance. "For your

  own sake," she said, "don't persist in estranging yourself from

  me. In this dreadful trial, I am the only friend you have."

  Blanche came back to her step-mother's chair; and looked at her

  steadily, in silence. Lady Lundie submitted to inspection--and

  bore it perfectly.

  "Look into my heart," she said. "Blanche! it bleeds for you!"

  Blanche heard, without heeding. Her mind was painfully intent on

  its own thoughts. "You are a religious woman," she said,

  abruptly. "Will you swear on your Bible, that what you told me is

  true?"

  "_My_ Bible!" repeated Lady Lundie with sorrowful emphasis. "Oh,

  my child! have _you_ no part in that precious inheritance? Is it

  not _your_ Bible, too?"

  A momentary triumph showed itself in Blanche's face. "You daren't

  swear it!" she said. "That's enough for me!"

  She turned away scornfully. Lady Lundie caught her by the hand,

  and drew her sharply back. The suffering saint disappeared, and

  the woman who was no longer to be trifled with took her place.

  "There must be an end to this," she said. "You don't believe what

  I have told you. Have you courage enough to put it to the test?"

  Blanche started, and released her hand. She trembled a little.

  There was a horrible certainty of conviction expressed in Lady

  Lundie's sudden change of manner.

  "How?" she asked.

  "You shall see. Tell me the truth, on your side, first. Where is

  Sir Patrick? Is he really out, as his servant told me?"

  "Yes. He is out with the farm bailiff. You have taken us all by

  surprise. You wrote that we were to expect you by the next

  train."

  "When does the next train arrive? It is eleven o'clock now."

  "Between one and two."

  "Sir Patrick will not be back till then?"

  "Not till then."

  "Where is Mr. Brinkworth?"

  "My husband?"

  "Your husband--if you like. Is he out, too?"

  "He is in the smoking-room."

  "Do you mean the long room, built out from the back of the

  house?"

  "Yes."

  "Come down stairs at once with me."

  Blanche advanced a step--and drew back. "What do you want of me?"

  she asked, inspired by a

  sudden distrust.

  Lady Lundie turned round, and looked at her impatiently.

  "Can't you see yet," she said, sharply, "that your interest and

  my interest in this matter are one? What have I told you?"

  "Don't repeat it!"

  "I must repeat it! I have told you that Arnold Brinkworth was

  privately at Craig Fernie, with Miss Silvester, in the

  acknowledged character of her husband--when we supposed him to be

  visiting the estate left him by his aunt. You refuse to believe

  it--and I am about to put it to the proof. Is it your interest or

  is it not, to know whether this man deserves the blind belief

  that you place in him?"

  Blanche trembled from head to foot, and made no reply.

  "I am going into the garden, to speak to Mr. Brinkworth through

  the smoking-room window," pursued her ladyship. "Have you the

  courage to come with me; to wait behind out of sight; and to hear

  what he says with his own lips? I am not afraid of putting it to

  that test. Are you?"

  The tone in which she asked the question roused Blanche's spirit.

  "If I believed him to be guilty," she said, resolutely, "I should

  _not_ have the courage. I believe him to be innocent. Lead the

  way, Lady Lundie, as soon as you please."

  They left the room--Blanche's own room at Ham Farm--and descended

  to the hall. Lady Lundie stopped, and consulted the railway

  time-table hanging near the house-door.

  "There is a train to London at a quarter to twelve," she said.

  "How long does it take to walk to the station?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "You will soon know. Answer my question."

  "It's a walk of twenty minutes to the station."

  Lady Lundie referred to her watch. "There will be just time," she

  said.

  "Time for what?"

  "Come into the garden."

  With that answer, she led the way out

  The smoking-room projected at right angles from the wall of the

  house, in an oblong form--with a bow-window at the farther end,

  looking into the garden. Before she turned the corner, and showed

  herself within the range of view from the window Lady Lundie

  looked back, and signed to Blanche to wait behind the angle of

  the wall. Blanche waited.

  The next instant she heard the voices in conversation through the

  open window. Arnold's voice was the first that spoke.

  "Lady Lundie! Why, we didn't expect you till luncheon time!"

  Lady Lundie was ready with her answer.

  "I was able to leave town earlier than I had anticipated. Don't

  put out your cigar; and don't move. I am not coming in."

  The quick interchange of question and answer went on; every word

  being audible in the perfect stillness of the place.
Arnold was

  the next to speak.

  "Have you seen Blanche?"

  "Blanche is getting ready to go out with me. We mean to have a

  walk together. I have many things to say to her. Before we go, I

  have something to say to _you._"

  "Is it any thing very serious?"

  "It is most serious."

  "About me?"

  "About you. I know where you went on the evening of my lawn-party

  at Windygates--you went to Craig Fernie."

  "Good Heavens! how did you find out--?"

  "I know whom you went to meet--Miss Silvester. I know what is

  said of you and of her--you are man and wife."

  "Hush! don't speak so loud. Somebody may hear you!"

  "What does it matter if they do? I am the only person whom you

  have kept out of the secret. You all of you know it here."

  "Nothing of the sort! Blanche doesn't know it."

  "What! Neither you nor Sir Patrick has told Blanche of the

  situation you stand in at this moment?"

  "Not yet. Sir Patrick leaves it to me. I haven't been able to

  bring myself to do it. Don't say a word, I entreat you. I don't

  know how Blanche may interpret it. Her friend is expected in

  London to-morrow. I want to wait till Sir Patrick can bring them

  together. Her friend will break it to her better than I can. It's

  _my_ notion. Sir Patrick thinks it a good one. Stop! you're not

  going away already?"

  "She will be here to look for me if I stay any longer."

  "One word! I want to know--"

  "You shall know later in the day."

  Her ladyship appeared again round the angle of the wall. The next

  words that passed were words spoken in a whisper.

  "Are you satisfied now, Blanche?"

  "Have you mercy enough left, Lady Lundie, to take me away from

  this house?"

  "My dear child! Why else did I look at the time-table in the

  hall?"

  CHAPTER THE FORTY-THIRD.

  THE EXPLOSION.

  ARNOLD'S mind was far from easy when he was left by himself again

  in the smoking-room.

  After wasting some time in vainly trying to guess at the source

  from which Lady Lundie had derived her information, he put on his

  hat, and took the direction which led to Blanche's favorite walk

  at Ham Farm. Without absolutely distrusting her ladyship's

  discretion, the idea had occurred to him that he would do well to

  join his wife and her step-mother. By making a third at the

  interview between them, he might prevent the conversation from

  assuming a perilously confidential turn.

  The search for the ladies proved useless. They had not taken the

  direction in which he supposed them to have gone.

  He returned to the smoking-room, and composed himself to wait for

  events as patiently as he might. In this passive position--with

  his thoughts still running on Lady Lundie--his memory reverted to

  a brief conversation between Sir Patrick and himself, occasioned,

  on the previous day, by her ladyship's announcement of her

  proposed visit to Ham Farm. Sir Patrick had at once expressed his

  conviction that his sister-in-law's journey south had some

  acknowledged purpose at the bottom of it.

  "I am not at all sure, Arnold" (he had said), "that I have done

  wisely in leaving her letter unanswered. And I am strongly

  disposed to think that the safest course will be to take her into

  the secret when she comes to-morrow. We can't help the position

  in which we are placed. It was impossible (without admitting your

  wife to our confidence) to prevent Blanche from writing that

  unlucky letter to her--and, even if we had prevented it, she must

  have heard in other ways of your return to England. I don't doubt

  my own discretion, so far; and I don't doubt the convenience of

  keeping her in the dark, as a means of keeping her from meddling

  in this business of yours, until I have had time to set it right.

  But she may, by some unlucky accident, discover the truth for

  herself--and, in that case, I strongly distrust the influence

  which she might attempt to exercise on Blanche's mind."

  Those were the words--and what had happened on the day after they

  had been spoken? Lady Lundie _had_ discovered the truth; and she

  was, at that moment, alone somewhere with Blanche. Arnold took up

  his hat once more, and set forth on the search for the ladies in

  another direction.

  The second expedition was as fruitless as the first. Nothing was

  to be seen, and nothing was to be heard, of Lady Lundie and

  Blanche.

  Arnold's watch told him that it was not far from the time when

  Sir Patrick might be expected to return. In all probability,

  while he had been looking for them, the ladies had gone back by

  some other way to the house. He entered the rooms on the

  ground-floor, one after another. They were all empty. He went up

  stairs, and knocked at the door of Blanche's room. There was no

  answer. He opened the door and looked in. The room was empty,

  like the rooms down stairs. But, close to the entrance, there was

  a trifling circumstance to attract notice, in the shape of a note

  lying on the carpet. He picked it up, and saw that it was

  addressed to him in the handwriting of his wife.

  He opened it. The note began, without the usual form of address,

  in these words:

  "I know the abominable secret that you and my uncle have hidden

  from me. I know _your_ infamy, and _her_ infamy, and the position

  in which, thanks to you and to her, I now stand. Reproaches would

  be wasted words, addressed to such a man as you are. I write

  these lines to tell you that I have placed myself under my

  step-mother's protection in London. It is useless to attempt to

  follow me. Others will find out whether the ceremony of marriage

  which you went through with me is binding on you or not. For

  myself, I know enough already. I have gone, never to come back,

  and never to let you see me again.--Blanche."

  Hurrying headlong down the stairs with but one clear idea in his

  mind--the idea of instantly following his wife--Arnold

  encountered Sir Patrick, standing by a table in the hall, on

  which cards and notes left by visitors were usually placed, with

  an open letter in his hand. Seeing in an instant what had

  happened, he threw one of his arms round Arnold, and stopped him

  at the house-door.

  "You are a man," he said, firmly. "Bear it like a man."

  Arnold's head fell on the shoulder of his kind old friend. He

  burst into tears.

  Sir Patrick let the irrepressible outbreak of grief have its way.

  In those first moments, silence was mercy. He said nothing. The

  letter which he had been reading (from Lady Lundie, it is

  needless to say), dropped unheeded at his feet.

  Arnold lifted his head, and dashed away the tears.

  "I am ashamed of myself," he said. "Let me go."

  "Wrong, my poor fellow--doubly wrong!" returned Sir Patrick.

  "There is no shame in shedding such tears as those. And there is

  nothing to be done by leaving _me._"

  "I must and will see her!"

  "Read that," said Sir Patrick,
pointing to the letter on the

  floor. "See your wife? Your wife is with the woman who has

  written those lines. Read them."

  Arnold read them.

  "DEAR SIR PATRICK,--If you had honored me with your confidence, I

  should have been happy to consult you before I interfered to

  rescue Blanche from the position in which Mr. Brinkworth has

  placed her. As it is, your late brother's child is under my

  protection at my house in London. If _you_ attempt to exercise

  your authority, it must be by main force--I will submit to

  nothing less. If Mr. Brinkworth attempts to exercise _his_

  authority, he shall establish his right to do so (if he can) in a

  police-court.

  "Very truly yours, JULIA LUNDIE.

  Arnold's resolution was not to be shaken even by this. "What do I

  care," he burst out, hotly, "whether I am dragged through the

  streets by the police or not! I _will_ see my wife. I _will_

  clear myself of the horrible suspicion she has about me. You have

  shown me your letter. Look at mine!"

  Sir Patrick's clear sense saw the wild words that Blanche had

  written in their true light.

  "Do you hold your wife responsible for that letter?" be asked. "I

  see her step-mother in every line of it. You descend to something

  unworthy of you, if you seriously defend yourself against _this!_

  You can't see it? You persist in holding to your own view? Write,

  then. You can't get to her--your letter may. No! When you leave

  this house, you leave it with me. I have conceded something on my

  side, in allowing you to write. I insist on your conceding

  something, on your side, in return. Come into the library! I

  answer for setting things right between you and Blanche, if you

  will place your interests in my hands. Do you trust me or not?"

  Arnold yielded. They went into the library together. Sir Patrick

  pointed to the writing-table. "Relieve your mind there," he said.

  "And let me find you a reasonable man again when I come back."

  When he returned to the library the letter was written; and

  Arnold's mind was so far relieved--for the time at least.

  "I shall take your letter to Blanche myself," said Sir Patrick,

  "by the train that leaves for London in half an hour's time."

  "You will let me go with you?"

  "Not to-day. I shall be back this evening to dinner. You shall

  hear all that has happened; and you shall accompany me to London

  to-morrow--if I find it necessary to make any lengthened stay

  there. Between this and then, after the shock that you have

  suffered, you will do well to be quiet here. Be satisfied with my

  assurance that Blanche shall have your letter. I will force my

  authority on her step-mother to that extent (if her step-mother

  resists) without scruple. The respect in which I hold the sex

  only lasts as long as the sex deserves it--and does _not_ extend

  to Lady Lundie. There is no advantage that a man can take of a

  woman which I am not fully prepared to take of my sister-in-law."

  With that characteristic farewell, he shook hands with Arnold,

  and departed for the station.

  At seven o'clock the dinner was on the table. At seven o'clock

  Sir Patrick came down stairs to eat it, as perfectly dressed as

  usual, and as composed as if nothing had happened.

  "She has got your letter," he whispered, as he took Arnold's arm,

  and led him into the dining-room.

  "Did she say any thing?"

  "Not a word."

  "How did she look?"

  "As she ought to look--sorry for what she has done."

  The dinner began. As a matter of necessity, the subject of Sir

  Patrick's expedition was dropped while the servants were in the

  room--to be regularly taken up again by Arnold in the intervals