A Romance of Toronto Part 15

"Oh, yes, sir; Dr. Annesley, of London; he----"

"Hold your prate, Sarah Kane, and mind your own business," cried Margaret, trembling with rage. "Get out of here," and with a smart push she is outside and the key turned.

For a few moments Sarah Kane stood irresolute, when the clock struck three.

"Yes, that will be best," she thought, "but I have no time to lose,"

and, quickly flying to her own apartment, she hurriedly packs up, but not the handsome wardrobe willed her by her late mistress, of which she knows not, but simply her own modest apparel; this she places in two trunks, weeping silently the while for the evil come upon the poor sick man in yonder east chamber, for her own forced desertion of him into the cruel hands of the inmates at Broadlawns, for her own undefined plans to find her young mistress, and endeavor to reinstate her in the fortune willed her, which she is in doubt now that the law will give her, as she has not married Charles B. Cole. She weeps on, as she thinks of the fearful fraud that has been committed; for here is Mr. Cole married!

actually married to Miss Villiers, in Sarah Kane's estimation, the most wicked woman that lives, when he had been the intended husband of her sweet, gentle Miss Pearl.

"Woe, woe, that I did not go to Dr. Annesley, and tell him of the prolonged absence of Miss Pearl, instead of watching here, or to a lawyer; but I dreaded their fees, as they have paid me no salary for five years, nor can I claim it, as they told me if I staid I should get nothing. I have erred in judgment. G.o.d help me and that poor sick man.

Yes, I must slip away and tell Silas. It is fortunate Mary is with him still, or they (if by some mischance they miss me) might again make occasion to malign me as to going to see a man; how easily those smooth-tongued hypocrites can take away one's character, and they doing the real harm all the while. My grey ulster and hat will not be too heavy; it is quite a cool morning, and being up all night, and supperless to bed, makes me feel chilly. How surprised Silas and his sister will be. I know he will want me to marry him at once, but I feel too old and grey; but, as he says, so I have told him for years; and he has waited and waited until the clouds at Broadlawns would lighten, and now they are blacker than ever. Kind Silas, good and true Silas, what will you say to this terrible marriage of poor Mr. Cole to awful Miss Villiers?"

And now her expeditious fingers having set her house in order, her grey hair rolled back from her brow, her small, regular features, sensitive mouth, and good blue eyes looking wan and anxious, locking her door, she slips down the back stairs, and out into the chill dulness of an October morning. In fifteen minutes she knocks at the house of Silas Jones, the front room of which he calls his shop, selling in a quiet way stationery and current literature. The city clocks are ringing the last quarter before four, and Mary is the first to hear the unusual sound on the knocker at that early hour. Waiting to hear it repeated, she lifts the window, when, at Sarah Kane's voice calling Silas, they both hasten down to open the door.

"Dear me, Sarah; what's up?" said Mary, kissing her. "What a scare you gave me!"

"You have been up all night, Sarah," said Silas Jones, reproachfully, leading her in, as he again locked the door. "However, as this is the earliest kiss I have ever had, I shall not scold you too much; but whom have you been looking nearer your own grave for this time, Sarah? You have been nursing again, I suppose, and are returning to Broadlawns?"

"How you chatter, Silas, dear; Sarah can't get in a word edgeways," said Mary, kindly, but curiously.

"I was only giving our Sarah time to catch her breath, she has been running and is cold," he said, rubbing her hands. "Make her a hot drink over the spirit-lamp, Mary, please."

"The very thing, Silas, dear; what a good man you will make our Sarah; here, drink this, Sarah, and promise to marry Silas this day week (my wedding-day too, Sarah), for indeed, you want someone to make you stay in your bed o' nights."

"Yes, Sarah, dear, Mary is right; for it's my belief the wretches at Broadlawns wish to see you in your grave, seeing as you know too much."

"Oh, Silas, that young man, Mr. Cole, came; and they have married him to Miss Villiers, instead of our sweet Miss Pearl," blurted out Sarah, in trembling tones.

"You don't say, Sarah; what a fearful piece of wickedness," cried Mary, with distended eyes.

"I am not surprised at any villainy on their part," said Silas, with knitted brows. "Let me see, the will reads, on Miss Pearl coming of age and marrying young Mr. Cole, she inherits all (so Dr. Annesley told me, and, by the way, he sent me word he wants to see me); well they have got rid, the de'il knows how, of Miss Pearl, and this ugly vixen marries the man to inherit; bad business, their having similar Christian names; so it's from there you come, and not from sick nursing? Tell us all, dear."

"Well, Silas, that's just what I ran here for, for they've as good as turned me out, at least, I am to go at daybreak, and----"

"Did they dare to turn you out, you a lady born, though their drudge--faithful in nursing, faithful in your housekeeping. Shielding them, when you could have put the blood-hounds of the law on their track, hoping things would right themselves in this very marriage; but to Miss Pearl--turn you out, after wasting your youth and mine in a martyr's life, to see that right was eventually done to the innocent daughter of your dead friend, growing literally grey in this self-imposed duty, while we both lived lonely lives apart, when they should be in a felon's dock for breach of trust; never mind, it is my turn now, they shall be exposed, and compelled to disgorge; Miss Pearl must be found, Mrs. Mansfield may know something."

"Mrs. Mansfield, yes, Silas, that is where Mr. Stone is going to drive me at seven sharp this a.m., and, oh dear, it is near six; I must hasten back, else they may make me black in Bayswater, for they have called me a hussy to-night, Silas, because I went to poor Mr. Cole's bedroom, who is very ill, and he was sorry when they turned me out, Silas, for he knows he has fallen into their net, and he is ill in mind and body; G.o.d help him. He is kindly and handsome, is yielding and pliable, and so an easy prey; he was to have met his father, he tells me. Ah, he would have saved him, but he is ill, he learned on his arrival, and away off across the sea at Montreal; but I had to come and tell you, Silas, for I missed you last evening, when they sent me to the city, so I should be out of the way, and alas! I came back too late to save him," she said, tearfully.

"Don't go near them again, Sarah," said Mary, sympathetically.

"Yes, Sarah, that's it; stay with us, and we will pet and nurse you, and you will be my wife."

"No dears, I could not remain inactive so near poor Mr. Cole; he hates them as his enemies, it is best for me to go to Mrs. Mansfield, I shall be near Dr. Annesley, and must see what can be done; you will come and see me at Mrs. Mansfield's, so good-bye, now, dears."

"I shall come to the city to-morrow, Sarah, so look out for me, dear,"

he said, b.u.t.toning her ulster.

"You shouldn't be parting us at all, Sarah," said Mary, tearfully.

"But only for a few days, Mary."

"You must marry me this day week, Sarah, dear, for somehow I feel as if evil will come to you parted from me; promise, it will bridge the time,"

he said, following her out into the grey morning light.

"I promise." And there and then, in the dim gaze of the earliest bees in life's hive, she is pressed to his loyal heart.

CHAPTER XIV.

FENCING OFF CONFIDENCE.

The knowledge that, with the morning, her friend would look for a confidence as regarded the intrusion by a man into the grounds of Holmnest on the evening previous, unless, indeed, by fencing she could ward off such confidence, caused Mrs. Gower to pa.s.s an almost sleepless night; and so, with the natural desire to put off the evil day, she arose later than usual, lingering over bath and toilette. But now in warm morning robe of a pretty, red woollen material, with ecru lace rufflings, she is worth a second look; though her thoughts are sad, for under the dark hair on her brow, her eyes wear a wistful expression, and on her sensitive lips is almost a quiver of pain, as she stands at her window, looking mechanically on the familiar scene.

"He always looks up," she thought, as a gentleman pa.s.sed, "and must now either reside in the neighborhood, or take it in in his morning outing.

How a lonely woman notices any seeming interest taken in herself. I have not seen much of him since poor Charlie Cole went away, and strange; but I miss his face if I don't see him for some days. I remember telling Charlie of a dream I had of this very man, and his _bete noir_, Philip Cobbe. That reminds me again of my promised confidence to Mrs. Dale, it was weak in me to make any such promise--I, who have never had a confidant, even when a girl. I have met some who would have been staunch and true enough, I feel sure, but I never thought heart secrets were altogether one's own; and as to this chatter over men's kind or loving attentions to one, is just about the meanest thing a woman or girl can be guilty of. It is sufficient to deter men from being commonly civil. I have known women prate and boast by name of those who have paid them the highest compliment a man can, that is of asking them to be their wife; yes, I positively shrink from meeting my kind, little friend, Ella Dale, she has a positive craving for knowledge," she thought, with a half smile; "and had she been Eve she would have cut short the eloquence of the serpent's tongue, and have succ.u.mbed, merely out of curiosity. And yet she is a dear little woman, craving to be 'trusted all, or not at all,' and meaning good to me; and perhaps I should be less lonely did I empty my griefs into the lap of another's mind; but again, in confiding in a married woman one confides in her husband also. It is natural, but, at the same time, not altogether pleasant; but at that peremptory ring I must give up dreaming here, or my 'Madonna of the Tubs' will be giving me notice."

"Good morning, dear. Pardon my not having been down to welcome you," she said, warmly, finding her friend and the morning papers ensconced in a rocker by the grate, Tyr stretched on the rug.

"I have just come down, Elaine, and have had my mirrored reflection as company, and don't I look comical, encased in this dressing gown you lent me? Won't I have to eat a substantial breakfast to fill it out?"

"All right, dear, if my seraph of the frying pan condescended to fill my orders, we have bloaters on the menu."

"I am ready for them, Elaine, and feel bloated already," she said, as they seated themselves at table.

"I wonder what kind of a day we shall have for your review of the city schools? Old Sol does not seem to have made up his mind whether to laugh or weep," said Mrs. Gower, as she touched the bell to remove the fruit.

"I hope he will be good enough to weep over some other city, for I am sure Henry will not bring my waterproof."

"But Miss Crew will, she seems so really thoughtful. What do you intend doing with her when you place Garfield at school?"

"That's just what I am in a quandary about. I like her, for she puzzles me."

"What a droll little creature you are, Ella; you have a perfect craze for working out problems, even to a woman," she said, laughingly.

"Now you mustn't think, Elaine, that my interest in you has the remotest connection with the mystery at Holmnest," she said, opening her blue eyes in apparent innocence, but in reality her words being a reminder to her hostess.

"The mystery at Holmnest? What a tragic sound you give it, it makes one's flesh creep, but I have not forgotten how large-hearted you are, dear, when you do not forget, 'Share ye one another's burdens.'"

"Yes, you must tell me all, Elaine, and I feel sure that with, or without the advice of Henry, your trouble will either vanish or lighten by your sharing it with me."

"Yes, perhaps so," she said gravely; "but we must not spoil our breakfast, and the play of knife and fork. My little tragedy must be the afterpiece this time."

"As you will, Elaine, but don't bear it too long alone. Tragedy is heavy. How cozy and home-like breakfasting with you is after hotel life."

"I am glad you think so, Ella."