Caught in a Trap Part 21

Volume 2, Chapter VIII.

SUSAN.

Change of scene is one of the most potent panaceas for mental ills; and change of scene had in a few week effected Susan's complete recovery.

She had been under Markworth's care at The Poplars in those early days of August, an entirely reasoning being, but she had lacked animation and life; she had been like Gibson's Venus, before the flesh tints were put on the statue; but she was now a bright, living, thinking girl, with hopes and pleasures and aspirations which she had hitherto undreamt of.

In her cheerful little apartments in the Rue Montmartre she unfolded herself like a chrysalis from the grub, and bustled about and took an interest in everything around her which Doctor Jolly would have wondered at.

While Markworth was away, the Mere Cliquelle used to look after her and keep her company, and go out with her, and the dignified _bon homme_ of that good lady would also frequently came up to see Madame and air his few English phrases. But Markworth used never to be long away. Havre was so very convenient that he could run over to Southampton and thence to London whenever he wished to see how matters were going on for the approaching law suit; so he seldom stopped away beyond a couple of days.

When he was at Havre, however, he continued to devote himself to Susan with all his former care, and tried to gratify every wish she had; and she was as happy as a bird.

One thing only was wanting to complete her happiness, and that was to see her brother Tom: that desire, however, was soon gratified. She had been disappointed sadly when Markworth returned the first time without him; but he said that Tom would soon come, and in a few more days he arrived at Havre. But, he was actuated with no desire to see Markworth: it was only his sister that brought him over, and he wished to persuade her to return home, which he thought she might do at once as he, with the others, had made certain of Markworth retaining her against her will. Indeed the lawyer Mr Trump, or Doctor Jolly would have gone over to Havre at once to fetch her back on learning where she was--for Markworth had freely said that they might come to fetch her if they pleased,--for it was only at Tom's express wish that a few days were allowed to elapse to enable him to fetch her himself, for he was hardly able to move about as yet, notwithstanding that he had every desire to start off at once on first hearing the news. Miss Kingscott had offered to go, but the Dowager bluntly declined her services, saying that, as she had shown so little care in watching over her charge in the first instance, she certainly would not be now entrusted with the charge of bringing her back, and beyond that Mrs Hartshorne said she did not require her services any longer.

So Miss Kingscott left The Poplars altogether, much against her inclinations at this juncture, although she would have more time at her disposal for watching Markworth, for it cut her off from all a.s.sociation with the doctor before matters were brought to a satisfactory point between them. Tom went over to Havre to fetch Susan home in a day or two afterwards, confident of bringing her back. We thus see several important alterations in the _carte du pays_, of the several actors in our little drama.

Markworth was out one day shortly after his own return to Havre when he had set his plans rolling on the other side, when Tom Hartshorne rang the bell at the house _Numero sept, Rue Montmartre_.

The Mere Cliquelle answered the summons and on Tom (in extremely bad French) asking if Madame Markworth was in, the fat landlady herself ushered him up-stairs. She was very much taken with the appearance of Master Tom, who really, with his fine built frame, slightly emaciated with the confinement he had undergone from his illness, and his pale face, looked altogether rather a handsome, presentable fellow. The Mere Cliquelle gazed upon him with admiration: she had a Frenchwoman's eye for _un brave Monsieur_, and she showed it.

She tapped at the door of Susan's little _salle a manger. "Un Monsieur Anglais_," she said, with which explanatory information Tom was ushered in before Susan could exactly comprehend what the Mere Cliquelle meant.

Susan gave one look up of surprise and joy as the door opened and she recognised the visitor: she had been working and had not expected Markworth in for some time. Rushing forwards she flung her arms round Tom's neck.

"Oh, Tom! Tom! You've come at last!" she said, and patted his cheek in delight, as if she were caressing a cat--a peculiarly sympathetic way the fair s.e.x have of showing their affection.

Tom himself was touched. He loved his sister greatly, the more too for her infirmity, and he though he comprehended it all at once in his reasoning mind. Poor Susan was no doubt kept here against her will: she was doubtless glad to see him for his own sake, but probably ten times more so, thinking he was about to take her back home again to England and her own people.

He thought thus for a moment; but he was soon undeceived. After a moment or two he held his sister off from him, his two hands resting on her shoulders, and he looked in her face with surprise.

"By Jove, Susan!" he exclaimed. "How altered you are; I should not have known you again!" He had not seen her for some weeks, and the gradual change which had been taking place in her came upon him all at once like a shock.

"Would you not?" laughed Susan, "but I should have known you anywhere, although you look pale and thin. What has been the matter, Tom?"

"Oh nothing!" he answered. "I have not been quite well. But you, Susan, by Jove! why you are all right again!" he was amazed at her having got rid of that melancholy reticence which had hung over her for so many years as he well knew. Instead of hanging back and not saying a word as she used to do, she now spoke to him freely, and looked just the same as any other girl. He could not believe it: it was wonderful!

"Of course I am all right!" answered Susan, merrily, and then her voice changed to a tone of sadness and anxiety, "but you are not angry with me, Tom, are you?"

"Certainly not! Why should I be angry?"

"For going away and leaving you all like that, and--"

She hesitated.

"We don't blame you, Susan, my dear," said Tom, kindly. "We know that it was all that rascal Markworth's doing."

Susan interrupted him at once, and spoke earnestly, with great emotion.

"Do not say a word against him, Tom; he is my husband, and I won't have a word said against him. If I am changed it is all his doing, and I love him. He has rescued me from ignorance and worse, and made me what I now am. Tom, Tom, you must not say a word against him. I won't bear it even from you."

"There, there," said Tom, soothingly, as if he were speaking to a child, "I did not mean it, and I won't say another word. But are you happy?"

"Happy!" echoed Susan--the answer to his question could be read in her face--"I never knew what happiness was before. I do not mean to blame you, Tom," seeing the look of surprise in Tom's face, "but I could never understand before. I have to thank him for reason and all. I can never repay all that he has done for me."

Tom saw that it was useless to say anything further, and he changed the tenor of the conversation.

"And how did you get over here, Susan?" he said, cheerfully. "Tell me how you got away, and all about it."

"I never intended to go away until the last moment," said Susan, "and I was so frightened of mother that if I had thought of her I should have turned back; but he was with me, and I felt courage, and the next morning we were married in London, I believe, and then we came over here; and, oh! Tom, I am so happy!"

She proceeded to tell him all about her daily life, and her little joys and pleasures.

Tom was greatly interested. He saw that Susan was immensely improved, and he could not but be glad at the change, however much he may have been angry at the way in which it was brought about. Besides, no blame could be attached to her. Tom himself was in love, you see, and he could make greater allowances now on that score than he might previously have done. He saw that Markworth must be kind to her, and at all events, he had certainly done more good to Susan in these few weeks than all the doctors had done. For his part, he would cheerfully have let Markworth now have the money that he had plotted for, and be done with him altogether, but it did not rest in his hands, so the least he could do would be to try and get Susan to go back with him.

"And will you come home with me now, Susan?" he asked, after a pause.

"We are all so anxious about you; and you will find things all right at home now, and mother will be very kind."

"And Allynne!--will he come too?"

"No, Susan; I can't ask him. You ought to know that."

"You want me to leave him? Tom, I will never leave him unless he sends me away himself."

Just at this moment the door opened, and Markworth walked in as coolly as possible. Susan darted past Tom and threw her arms round his neck.

"Oh! Allynne, Allynne!" she cried--she had learnt to call him by his Christian name, which no one else had done before--"they want to take me from you. You won't let me go, will you?"

"Of course not, Susan. There, Mr Hartshorne," he said, turning to Tom.

"I told you that I did not detain the girl against her will, and you can hear her answer for yourself. I wish to act fairly in the matter, no matter how my motives are misunderstood. Susan," he said, again addressing her, "what will you do--go with your brother or stay here with me?"

The only answer she made was to cling closer round his neck.

Markworth looked at Tom triumphantly, and the latter felt humbled.

"I'm sure it is not my fault," he said. "I daresay you mean very well, Markworth, but I don't retract what I said to you the other day. It was dishonourable for you to take my sister away like that. As for the money, however, now that I see her well and happy, you might cheerfully have it for all I care."

"Thank you," said Markworth, really touched, "you are a generous fellow, and I promise you to take care of your sister carefully for your sake as well as her own. She is well and happy now, and quite recovered, as you can see for yourself, but if she went back she might relapse again, although I won't prevent her from going."

Tom saw there was no use in trying to urge Susan, for she would not come with him and leave Markworth. He therefore only stopped that day with her, and returned on the morrow to Southampton, to report his want of success. He gave a very truthful account of his mission, and told both his mother and the doctor that Susan was quite restored. The old dowager appeared not to care very much about the matter, and reiterated her intention of preventing Markworth from "getting a penny of her money." The doctor was pleased to hear such good accounts of his former patient, but he was apprehensive as to the duration of Markworth's kind treatment to Susan.

"Bless my soul, sir!" said he to Tom, "it may be all very true now, but you can't expect to make a n.i.g.g.e.r change his skin, or make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, as they say somewhere or other, in something I've read. That man's bad at the bottom, Tom, as certain as G.o.d made little apples!"--the doctor, in his customary manner, mixing up a hypothesis with two biblical proverbs.

Thus ended Tom's mission after Susan. He shortly afterwards arranged another enterprise with a different object, and how he fared here will be detailed in the next chapter.

Volume 2, Chapter IX.

"FIDDLE-DE-DEE!"

"Fiddle-de-dee! Thomas," said the old dowager, with considerable asperity, "why you'll be wanting a gla.s.s coach and four, and a c.o.c.ked hat next. Stuff and nonsense, sir, it's all fiddle-de-dee!"