A Changed Heart Part 67

"It's a new place, and not much patronized," he explained to Cherrie.

"You won't be recognized there; and I'll tell them to fetch you your meals up to your room. And to-morrow, Cherrie, I want you to come round to my office at about eleven. Come in the back way off Brunswick street, you know; so you won't have to pa.s.s through the outer office, and be recognized by Clowrie and Gilcase, and the rest of 'em. I'll be waiting for you; and if Cavendish doesn't drop in, which he does to kill time about that hour every day, I'll send for him, and you'll hear his confession without being seen."

Mr. Blake walked home that night, chuckling inwardly all the way.

"I said I would pay you off, Cavendish," he soliloquized, "for leading Charley Marsh astray, and cutting up those other little cantrips of yours; and I think the time has come at last--I really think, my dear boy, the time has come!"

It was some time after ten when Mr. Blake presented himself at Mr.

Blair's, and found the family about retiring for the night. Laura was not at home, she was up at Redmon--Laura's mamma said--stopping with Mrs. Wyndham, who seemed to be very unhappy.

"What was she unhappy about?" Mr. Blake inquired. But Mrs. Blair only sighed, and shook her head, and hinted darkly about hasty marriages.

"Eh?" said Val, "Wyndham doesn't thrash her, does he? She's big and buxom, and he's only a little fellow; and I think, on the whole, she would be a match for him in a free fight!"

Mr. Blair laughed, but Mrs. Blair looked displeased.

"My dear Mr. Blake, how can you say such things? Mr. and Mrs. Wyndham are not a happy couple, that is clear; but whose is the fault I cannot undertake to say. He is greatly changed of late. I suppose he worries about his mother."

"Oh, his mother! Has anybody seen that most mysterious lady yet?"

"Not that I am aware of! He has not even called in medical advice."

"And the ghost," said Val, lighting his bedroom-lamp, "has it been figuranting since?"

"No," said Mr. Blair; "the ghost hasn't showed since you left. I say, Blake, did you settle your country-business satisfactorily?"

"Very!" replied Mr. Blake, with emphasis. "I never settled any business more to my satisfaction in the whole course of my life!"

Mr. Blake was in his office bright and early next morning, hard at work.

At about eleven he descended the stairs, and opened the back door, which fronted on a dull little street, through which a closely-vailed female figure was daintily picking her way. Val admitted the lady, and ran before her up-stairs.

"Up to time, Cherrie, there's nothing like it! I sent Bill Blair round to Cavendish's rooms to tell him to look in before twelve, and I expect them back every moment. By Jove! there's his voice outside now. Get in here quick, and sit down! There's a crack in the part.i.tion, through which you can see and hear. Not a chirp out of you, now. Come in!"

Mr. Blake raised his voice; and in answer, the door opened, and Captain Cavendish, smoking a cigar, lounged in. Val gave one glance at the b.u.t.toned door of the little closet in which he had hidden Cherrie, and nodded familiarly to his visitor.

"Good-morning, captain! find a chair. Oh, pitch the books on the floor--they're of no account. I'm to notice them all favorably in the 'Spouter'--the author sent a five-dollar bill for me to do it!"

"Young Blair said you wanted to see me," remarked the captain, tilting back his chair, and looking inquiringly through his cigar-smoke.

"Why, so I did. I heard before I went up the country a rumor that you were going to leave us--going to leave the army, in fact, and return to England. Is it so?"

"Yes. I'm confoundedly tired of Speckport, and this from-hand-to-mouth life. It is time I retired on my fortune, and I am going to do it."

"How?"

"Well, I mean to return home--run down to c.u.mberland, and saddle myself on my old uncle. He was always fond of me as a boy, and I know is yet, in spite of his new wife and heir. Perhaps I may drop into a good thing there--heiresses are plenty."

"I should think you had got your heart-scald of that," said Val, grinning. "You bait your hook for heiresses often enough, but the gold-fish don't seem to bite."

Captain Cavendish colored and frowned.

"All heiresses are not Miss Hendersons," he said, with a cold sneer. "I might know what to look for from your Bluenose and Quaker tradesmen's daughters. I shall marry an English lady--one whose father did not make his money selling b.u.t.ter or hawking fish."

"Oh, come now, Cavendish! You have been in love in Speckport. Don't deny it!"

"I do deny it," said the captain, coldly.

"Nonsense! You were in love with Nathalie Marsh."

"Never! Azure-eyed and fair-haired wax dolls never were any more to my taste than boiled chicken! I never cared a jot for Nathalie Marsh."

"Well, you did for Olive Henderson--you can't deny that! She is not of the boiled chicken order, and all Speckport knows you were mad about her."

"Speckport knows more than its prayers. I did admire Miss Henderson--I don't deny it; but she had the temper of the old devil, and I am glad I escaped her!"

"And Cherrie--have you quite forgotten Cherrie? You were spooney enough about her."

"Bah!" said Captain Cavendish, with infinite contempt; "don't sicken me by talking of Cherrie! I had almost forgotten there ever was such a little fool in existence!"

"And you never cared for Cherrie, either?"

Captain Cavendish broke into a laugh.

"You know how I cared for her. The woman a man can marry is another thing altogether!"

"Some far higher up in the world than Captain Cavendish have stooped to fall in love and marry girls as poor as Cherrie. You never could, I suppose?"

"Never! The idea is absurd! I wouldn't marry a girl like Cherrie if she had the beauty of the Venus de Medicis!"

"Did you ever undeceive Cherrie about that marriage affair? Did you let her know she was not your wife?"

"Not I," said Captain Cavendish, coolly. "I never took so much trouble about her! I was heartily sick of her before a week!"

"Well, it seems hard," said Val. "Poor little thing! She was very fond of you, too."

"Stuff! She was as fond of me as she was, or would be, of any other decently good-looking man. She was ready to rum off with any one who asked her, whether it were I, or young Marsh, or any of the rest. I know what Cherrie was made of."

"And so she thinks she is still your wife?"

"I don't know what she thinks!" exclaimed the young officer, impatiently; "and what's more, I don't care! What do you talk to me of Cherrie Nettleby for? I tell you I know nothing about her!"

"And I tell you I don't believe it," said Val. "You have her hid away somewhere, Cavendish; and if you are an honorable man, you will tell her the truth, and provide for her before you leave Speckport."

Captain Cavendish might have flown into a rage with any other man, but he only burst into a loud laugh at Val.

"Tell her the truth and provide for her! Why, you blessed innocent, do you suppose Cherrie, wherever she is, has been constant to me all this time? I tell you I know nothing of her, and care nothing! Make your mind easy, old fellow! the girl is off with somebody else long before this!

What's that?"

Captain Cavendish looked toward the b.u.t.toned door of the closet. There had been a strange sound, between a gasp and a cry, but Mr. Blake took no notice.