A Life's Secret Part 45

Mr. Hunter,' he continued with some emotion, 'it _must_ be accomplished somehow. To let things come to an end for the sake of a thousand or two, is--is----'

'Stop!' said Mr. Hunter. 'I see what you are driving at. You think that I might borrow this "thousand or two," from my brother, or from Dr.

Bevary.'

'No,' fearlessly replied Austin, 'I was not thinking of either one or the other. Mr. Henry Hunter has enough to do for himself just now--his contracts for the season were more extensive than ours: and Dr. Bevary is not a business man.'

'Henry _has_ enough to do,' said Mr. Hunter. 'And if a hundred-pound note would save me, I should not ask Dr. Bevary for its loan. I tell you, Clay, there is no help for it: ruin must come. I have thought it over and over, and can see no loophole of escape. It does not much matter: I can hide my head in obscurity for the short time I shall probably live. Mine has been an untoward fate.'

'It matters for your daughter, sir,' rejoined Austin, his face flushing.

'I cannot help myself, even for her sake,' was the answer, and it was spoken in a tone that, to a fanciful listener, might have told of a breaking heart.

'If you would allow me to suggest a plan, sir----'

'No, I will not allow any further discussion upon the topic,'

peremptorily interrupted Mr. Hunter. 'The blow must come; and, to talk of it will neither soothe nor avert it. Now to business. Not another word, I say.--Is it to-day or to-morrow that Grafton's bill falls due?'

'To-day,' replied Austin.

'And its precise amount?--I forget it.'

'Five hundred and twenty pounds.'

'Five hundred and twenty! I knew it was somewhere about that. It is that bill that will floor us--at least, be the first step to it. How closely has the account been drawn at the bank?'

'You have the book by you, sir. I think there is little more than thirty pounds lying in it.'

'Just so. Thirty pounds to meet a bill of five hundred and twenty. No other available funds to pay in. And you would talk of staving off the difficulty?'

'I think the bank would pay it, were all circ.u.mstances laid before them.

They have accommodated us before.'

'The bank will _not_, Austin. I have had a private note from them this morning. These flying rumours have reached their ears, and they will not let me overdraw even by a pound. It had struck me once or twice lately that they were becoming cautious.' There was a commotion, as of sudden talking, outside at that moment, and Mr. Hunter turned pale. He supposed it might be a creditor: and his nerves were so shattered, as was before remarked, that the slightest thing shook him like a woman. 'I would pay them all, if I could,' he said, his tone almost a wail. 'I wish to pay every one.'

'Sir,' said Austin, 'leave me here to-day to meet these matters. You are too ill to stay.'

'If I do not meet them to-day, I must to-morrow. Sooner or later, it is I who must answer.'

'But indeed you are ill, sir. You look worse than you have looked at all.'

'Can you wonder that I look worse? The striking of the docket against me is no pleasant matter to antic.i.p.ate.' The talking outside now subsided into laughter, in which the tones of a female were distinguishable. Mr.

Hunter thought he recognised them, and his fear of a creditor subsided.

They came from one of his women servants, who, unconscious of the proximity of her master, had been laughing and joking with some of the men, whom she had encountered upon entering the yard.

'What can Susan want?' exclaimed Mr. Hunter, signing to Austin to open the door.

'Is that you, Susan?' asked Austin, as he obeyed.

'Oh, if you please, sir, can I speak a word to my master?'

'Come in,' called out Mr. Hunter. 'What do you want?'

'Miss Florence has sent me, sir, to give you this, and to ask you if you'd please to come round.'

She handed in a note. Mr. Hunter broke the seal, and ran his eyes over it. It was from Florence, and contained but a line or two. She informed her father that the lady who had been so troublesome at the house once before, in years back, had come again, had taken a seat in the dining-room, removed her bonnet, and expressed her intention of there remaining until she should see Mr. Hunter.

'As if I had not enough upon me without this!' muttered Mr. Hunter. 'Go back,' he said aloud to the servant, 'and tell Miss Florence that I am coming.'

A few minutes given to the papers before him, a few hasty directions to Austin, touching the business of the hour, and Mr. Hunter rose to depart.

'Do not come back, sir,' Austin repeated to him. 'I can manage all.'

When Mr. Hunter entered his own house, letting himself in with a latch key, Florence, who had been watching for him, glided forward.

'She is in there, papa,' pointing to the closed door of the dining-room, and speaking in a whisper. 'What is her business here? what does she want? She told me she had as much right in the house as I.'

'Ha!' exclaimed Mr. Hunter. 'Insolent, has she been?'

'Not exactly insolent. She spoke civilly. I fancied you would not care to see her, so I said she could not wait. She replied that she should wait, and I must not attempt to prevent her. Is she in her senses, papa?'

'Go up stairs and put your bonnet and cloak on, Florence,' was the rejoinder of Mr. Hunter. 'Be quick.' She obeyed, and was down again almost immediately, in her deep mourning.' 'Now, my dear, go round to Dr. Bevary, and tell him you have come to spend the day with him.'

'But, papa----'

'Florence, go! I will either come for you this evening, or send. Do not return until I do.'

The tone, though full of kindness, was one that might not be disobeyed, and Florence, feeling sick with some uncertain, shadowed-forth trouble, pa.s.sed out of the hall door. Mr. Hunter entered the dining-room.

Tall, gaunt, powerful of frame as ever, rose up Miss Gwinn, turning upon him her white, corpse-like looking face. Without the ceremony of greeting, she spoke in her usual abrupt fashion, dashing at once to her subject. '_Now_ will you render justice, Lewis Hunter?'

'I have the greater right to ask that justice shall be rendered to me,'

replied Mr. Hunter, speaking sternly, in spite of his agitation. 'Who has most cause to demand it, you or I?'

'She who reigned mistress in this house is dead,' cried Miss Gwinn. You must now acknowledge _her_.'

'I never will. You may do your best and worst. The worst that can come is, that it must reach the knowledge of my daughter.'

'Ay, there it is! The knowledge of the wrong must not even reach her; but the wrong itself has not been too bad for that other one to bear.'

'Woman!' continued Mr. Hunter, growing excited almost beyond control, 'who inflicted that wrong? Myself, or you?'

The reproach told home, if the change to sad humility, pa.s.sing over Miss Gwinn's countenance, might be taken as an indication.

'What I said, I said in self-defence; after you, in your deceit, had brought wrong upon me and my family,' she answered in a subdued voice.

'_That_ was no wrong,' retorted Mr. Hunter, 'It was you who wrought all the wrong afterwards, by uttering the terrible falsehood, that she was dead.'

'Well, well, it is of no use going back to that,' she impatiently said.

'I am come here to ask that justice shall be rendered, now that it is in your power.'