The name braced Stephen at once. Here was danger, an enemy to be
encountered; all the fighting blood of generations leaped to the
occasion. The short spell of sleep had helped to restore her. There
remained still quite enough of mental and nervous excitement to make
her think quickly; the words were hardly out of the maid's mouth
before her resolution was taken. It would never do to let Leonard
Everard see she was diffident about meeting him; she would go down at
once. But she would take the precaution of having her aunt present;
at any rate, till she should have seen how the land lay. Her being
just waked from sleep would be an excuse for asking her aunt to see
the visitor till she came down. So she said to the maid:
'I have been asleep. I must have got tired walking in the wood in
the heat. Ask Auntie to kindly see Mr. Everard in the blue drawing-
room till I come down. I must tidy my hair; but I will be down in a
few minutes.'
'Shall I send Marjorie to you, miss?'
'No! Don't mind; I can do what I want myself. Hurry down to Miss
Rowly!'
How she regarded Leonard Everard now was shown in her instinctive
classing him amongst her enemies.
When she entered the room she seemed all aglow. She wanted not only
to overcome but to punish; and all the woman in her had risen to the
effort. Never in her life had Stephen Norman looked more radiantly
beautiful, more adorable, more desirable. Even Leonard Everard felt
his pulses quicken as he saw that glowing mass of beauty standing out
against the cold background of old French tapestry. All the physical
side of him leaped in answer to the call of her beauty; and even his
cold heart and his self-engrossed brain followed with slower gait.
He had been sitting opposite Miss Rowly in one of the windows,
twirling his hat in nervous suspense. He jumped up, and, as she came
towards him, went forward rapidly to greet her. No one could mistake
the admiration in his eyes. Ever since he had made up his mind to
marry her she had assumed a new aspect in his thoughts. But now her
presence swept away all false imaginings; from the moment that her
loveliness dawned upon him something like love began to grow within
his breast. Stephen saw the look and it strengthened her. He had so
grievously wounded her pride the previous day that her victory on
this was a compensation which set her more at her old poise.
Her greeting was all sweetness: she was charmed to see him. How was
his father, and what was the news? Miss Rowly looked on with smiling
visage. She too had seen the look of admiration in his eyes, and it
pleased her. Old ladies, especially when they are maiden ladies,
always like to see admiration in the eyes of young men when they are
turned in the direction of any girl dear to them.
They talked for some time, keeping all the while, by Stephen's clever
generalship, to the small-talk of the neighbourhood and the minor
events of social importance. As the time wore on she could see that
Leonard was growing impatient, and evidently wanted to see her alone.
She ignored, however, all his little private signalling, and
presently ordered tea to be brought. This took some little time;
when it had been brought and served and drunk, Leonard was in a
smothered fume of impatience. She was glad to see that as yet her
aunt had noticed nothing, and she still hoped that she would be able
to so prolong matters, that she would escape without a private
interview. She did not know the cause of Leonard's impatience: that
he must see her before the day passed. She too was an egoist, in her
own way; in the flush of belief of his subjugation she did not think
of attributing to him any other motive than his desire for herself.
As she had made up her mind on the final issue she did not want to be
troubled by a new 'scene.'
But, after all, Leonard was a man; and man's ways are more direct
than woman's. Seeing that he could not achieve his object in any
other way, he said out suddenly, thinking, and rightly, that she
would not wish to force an issue in the presence of her aunt:
'By the way, Miss Norman,' he had always called her 'Miss Norman' in
her aunt's presence: 'I want to have two minutes with you before I
go. On a matter of business,' he added, noticing Miss Rowly's
surprised look. The old lady was old-fashioned even for her age; in
her time no young man would have asked to see a young lady alone on
business. Except on one kind of business; and with regard to that
kind of business gentlemen had to obtain first the confidence and
permission of guardians. Leonard saw the difficulty and said
quickly:
'It is on the matter you wrote to me about!'
Stephen was prepared for a nasty shock, but hardly for so nasty a one
as this. There was an indelicacy about it which went far beyond the
bounds of thoughtless conventionality. That such an appeal should be
made to her, and in such a way, savoured of danger. Her woman's
intuition gave her the guard, and at once she spoke, smilingly and
gently as one recalling a matter in which the concern is not her own:
'Of course! It was selfish of me not to have thought of it, and to
have kept you so long waiting. The fact is, Auntie, that Leonard--I
like to call him Leonard, since we were children together, and he is
so young; though perhaps it would be more decorous nowadays to say
"Mr. Everard"--has consulted me about his debts. You know, Auntie
dear, that young men will be young men in such matters; or perhaps
you do not, since the only person who ever worried you has been
myself. But I stayed at Oxford and I know something of young men's
ways; and as I am necessarily more or less of a man of business, he
values my help. Don't you, Leonard?' The challenge was so direct,
and the position he was in so daringly put, that he had to acquiesce.
Miss Rowly, who had looked on with a frown of displeasure, said
coldly:
'I know you are your own mistress, my dear. But surely it would be
better if Mr. Everard would consult with his solicitor or his
father's agent, or some of his gentlemen friends, rather than with a
young lady whose relations with him, after all, are only those of a
neighbour on visiting terms. For my own part, I should have thought
that Mr. Everard's best course would have been to consult his own
father! But the things that gentlemen, as well as ladies do, have
been sadly changed since my time!' Then, rising in formal dignity,
she bowed gravely to the visitor before leaving the room.
But the position of being left alone in the room with Leonard did not
at all suit Stephen's plans. Rising quickly she said to her aunt:
'Don't stir, Auntie. I dare say you are right in what you say; but I
promised Mr. Everard to go into the matter. And as I have brought
the awkwardness on myself, I suppose I must bear it. If Mr. Everard
wants to see me alone, and I suppose he is diffident in speaking on
such a matter before you--he didn't play with you, you know!--we can
go out on the lawn. We shan't be long!' Before Leonard could
recover his wits she had headed him out on the lawn.
Her strategy was again thoroughly good. The spot she chose, though
beyond earshot, was quite in the open and commanded by all the
windows in that side of the house. A person speaking there might say
what he liked, but his actions must be discreet.
On the lawn Stephen tripped ahead; Leonard followed inwardly raging.
By her clever use of the opening she had put him in a difficulty from
which there was no immediate means of extrication. He could not
quarrel overtly with Stephen; if he did so, how could he enter on the
pressing matter of his debts? He dared not openly proclaim his
object in wishing to marry her, for had he done so her aunt might
have interfered, with what success he could not be sure. In any case
it would cause delay, and delay was what he could not afford. He
felt that in mentioning his debts at just such a movement he had
given Stephen the chance she had so aptly taken. He had to be on his
good behaviour, however; and with an apprehension that was new to him
he followed her.
An old Roman marble seat was placed at an angle from the house so
that the one of the two occupants within its curve must almost face
the house, whilst the other gave to it at least a quarter-face.
Stephen seated herself on the near side, leaving to Leonard the
exposed position. As soon as he was seated, she began:
'Now, Leonard, tell me all about the debts?' She spoke in tones of
gay friendliness, but behind the mask of her cheerfulness was the
real face of fear. Down deep in her mind was a conviction that her
letter was a pivotal point of future sorrow. It was in the meantime
quite apparent to her that Leonard kept it as his last resource; so
her instinct was to keep it to the front and thus minimise its power.
Leonard, though inwardly weakened by qualms of growing doubt, had the
animal instinct that, as he was in opposition, his safety was in
attacking where his opponent most feared. He felt that there was
some subtle change in his companion; this was never the same Stephen
Norman whom only yesterday he had met upon the hill! He plunged at
once into his purpose.
'But it wasn't about my debts you asked me to meet you, Stephen.'
'You surprise me, Leonard! I thought I simply asked you to come to
meet me. I know the first subject I mentioned when we began to talk,
after your grumbling about coming in the heat, was your money
matters.' Leonard winced, but went on:
'It was very good of you, Stephen; but really that is not what I came
to speak of to-day. At first, at all events!' he added with a
sublime naivette, as the subject of his debts and his imperative want
of money rose before him. Stephen's eyes flashed; she saw more
clearly than ever through his purpose. Such as admission at the very
outset of the proffer of marriage, which she felt was coming, was
little short of monstrous. Her companion did not see the look of
mastery on her face; he was looking down at the moment. A true lover
would have been looking up.
'I wanted to tell you, Stephen, that I have been thinking over what
you said to me in your letter, and what you said in words; and I want
to accept!' As he was speaking he was looking her straight in the
face.
Stephen answered slowly with a puzzled smile which wrinkled up her
forehead:
'Accept what I said in my letter! why, Leonard, what do you mean?
That letter must have had a lot more in it than I thought. I seem to
remember that it was simply a line asking you to meet me. Just let
me look at it; I should like to be sure of what actually is!' As she
spoke she held out her hand. Leonard was nonplussed; he did not know
what to say. Stephen made up her mind to have the letter back.
Leonard was chafing under the position forced upon him, and tried to
divert his companion from her purpose. He knew well why she had
chosen that exposed position for their interview. Now, as her
outstretched hand embarrassed him, he made reprisal; he tried to take
it in his in a tender manner.
She instantly drew back her hand and put it behind her in a decided
manner. She was determined that whatever might happen she would not
let any watcher at the windows, by chance or otherwise, see any sign
of tenderness on her part. Leonard, thinking that his purpose had
been effected, went on, breathing more freely:
'Your letter wasn't much. Except of course that it gave me the
opportunity of listening to what you said; to all your sweet words.
To your more than sweet proposal!'
'Yes! It must have been sweet to have any one, who was in a position
to do so, offer to help you when you knew that you were overwhelmed
with debts!' The words were brutal. Stephen felt so; but she had no
alternative. Leonard had some of the hard side of human nature; but
he had also some of the weak side. He went on blindly:
'I have been thinking ever since of what you said, and I want to tell
you that I would like to do as you wish!' As he spoke, his words
seemed even to him to be out of place. He felt it would be necessary
to throw more fervour into the proceedings. The sudden outburst
which followed actually amused Stephen, even in her state of fear:
'Oh, Stephen, don't you know that I love you! You are so beautiful!
I love you! I love you! Won't you be my wife?'
This was getting too much to close quarters. Stephen said in a calm,
business-like way:
'My dear Leonard, one thing at a time! I came out here, you know, to
speak of your debts; and until that is done, I really won't go into
any other matter. Of course if you'd rather not ... ' Leonard
really could not afford this; matters were too pressing with him. So
he tried to affect a cheery manner; but in his heart was a black
resolve that she should yet pay for this.
'All right! Stephen. Whatever you wish I will do; you are the queen
of my heart, you know!'
'How much is the total amount?' said Stephen.
This was a change to the prosaic which made sentiment impossible. He
gave over, for the time.
'Go on!' said Stephen, following up her advantage. 'Don't you even
know how much you owe?'
'The fact is, I don't. Not exactly. I shall make up the amount as
well as I can and let you know. But that's not what I came about to-
day.' Stephen was going to make an angry gesture of dissent. She
was not going to have that matter opened up. She waited, however,
for Leonard was going on after his momentary pause. She breathed
more freely after his first sentence. He was unable evidently to
carry on a double train of thought.
'It was about that infernal money-lenders' letter that the Governor
got!' Stephen got still less anxious. This open acknowledgment of
his true purpose seemed to clear the air.
'What is the amount?' Leonard looked quickly at her; the relief of
her mind made her tone seem joyful.
'A monkey! Five hundred pounds, you know. But then there's three
hundred for interest that has to be paid also. It's an awful lot of
money, isn't it?' The last phrase was added on seeing Stephen's
surprised look.
'Yes!' she answered quietly. 'A great deal of money--to waste!'
They were both silent for a while. Then she said:
'What does your father say to it?'
'He was in an awful wax. One of these beastly duns had written to
him about another account and he was in a regular fury. When I told
him I would pay it within a week, he said very little, which was
suspicious; and then, just when I was going out, he sprung this on
me. Mean of him! wasn't it? I need expect no help from him.' As he
was speaking he took a mass of letters from his pocket and began to
look among them for the money-lenders' letter.
'Why, what a correspondence you have there. Do you keep all your
letters in your pockets?' said Stephen quietly.
'All I don't tear up or burn. It wouldn't do to let the Governor
into my secrets. He might know too much!'
'And are all those letters from duns?'
'Mostly, but I only keep those letters I have to attend to and those
I care for.'
'Show me the bundle!' she said. Then seeing him hesitate, added:
'You know if I am to help you to get clear you must take me into your
confidence. I dare say I shall have to see a lot more letters than
these before you are quite clear!' Her tone was too quiet. Knowing
already the silent antagonism between them he began to suspect her;
knowing also that her own letter was not amongst them, he used his
wits and handed them over without a word. She, too, suspected him.
After his tacit refusal to give her the letter, she almost took it
for granted that it was not amongst them. She gave no evidence of
her feeling, however, but opened and read the letters in due
sequence; all save two, which, being in a female hand, she gave back
without a word. There was a calmness and an utter absence of
concern, much less of jealousy, about this which disconcerted him.
Throughout her reading Stephen's face showed surprise now and again;
but when she came to the last, which was that of the usurers, it
showed alarm. Being a woman, a legal threat had certain fears of its
own.
'There must be no delay about this!' she said.
'What am I to do?' he answered, a weight off his mind that the fiscal
matter had been practically entered on.
'I shall see that you get the money!' she said quietly. 'It will be
really a gift, but I prefer it to be as a loan for many reasons.'
Leonard made no comment. He found so many reasons in his own mind
that he thought it wise to forbear from asking any of hers. Then she
took the practical matter in hand:
'You must wire to these people at once to say that you will pay the
amount on the day after to-morrow. If you will come here to-morrow
at four o'clock the money will be ready for you. You can go up to
town by the evening train and pay off the debt first thing in the
morning. When you bring the receipt I shall speak to you about the
other debts; but you must make out a full list of them. We can't
have any half-measure. I will not go into the matter till I have all
the details before me!' Then she stood up to go.
As they walked across the lawn, she said:
'By the way, don't forget to bring that letter with you. I want to
see what I really did say in it!' Her tone was quiet enough, and the
wording was a request; but Leonard knew as well as if it had been
spoken outright as a threat that if he did not have the letter with
him when he came things were likely to be unpleasant.
The farther he got from Normanstand on his way home the more
discontented Leonard grew. Whilst he had been in Stephen's presence
she had so dominated him, not only by her personality but by her use
of her knowledge of his own circumstances, that he had not dared to
make protest or opposition; but now he began to feel how much less he
was to receive than he had expected. He had come prepared to allow
Stephen to fall into his arms, fortune and all. But now, although he
had practical assurance that the weight of his debts would be taken
from him, he was going away with his tail between his legs. He had
not even been accepted as a suitor, he who had himself been wooed
only a day before. His proposal of marriage had not been accepted,
had not even been considered by the woman who had so lately broken
ironclad convention to propose marriage to him. He had been treated
merely as a scapegrace debtor who had come to ask favours from an old
friend. He had even been treated like a bad boy; had been told that
he had wasted money; had been ordered, in no doubtful way, to bring
the full schedule of his debts. And all the time he dared not say
anything lest the thing shouldn't come off at all. Stephen had such
an infernally masterly way with her! It didn't matter whether she
was proposing to him, or he was proposing to her, he was made to feel
small all the same. He would have to put up with it till he had got
rid of the debts!
And then as to the letter. Why was she so persistent about seeing
it? Did she want to get it into her hands and then keep it, as
Harold An Wolf had done? Was it possible that she suspected he would
use it to coerce her; she would call it 'blackmail,' he supposed.
This being the very thing he had intended to do, and had done, he
grew very indignant at the very thought of being accused of it. It
was, he felt, a very awkward thing that he had lost possession of the
letter. He might need it if Stephen got nasty. Then Harold might
give it to her, as he had threatened to do. He thought he would call
round that evening by Harold's house, and see if he couldn't get back
the letter. It belonged to him; Harold had no right to keep it. He
would see him before he and Stephen got putting their heads together.
So, on his way home, he turned his steps at once to Harold's house.
He did not find him in. The maid who opened the door could give him
no information; all she could say was that Mrs. Dingle the
housekeeper had got a telegram from Master saying that he had been
called suddenly away on business.
This was a new source of concern to Leonard. He suspected a motive
of some sort; though what that motive could be he could not hazard
the wildest guess. On his way home he called at the post-office and
sent a telegram to Cavendish and Cecil, the name of the usurers'
firm, in accordance with Stephen's direction. He signed it: 'Jasper
Everard.'
