Cursed by a Fortune Part 20

"It is the truth, sir. Your wife's words just now confirmed what I had noted over and over again, till my very gorge rose at being compelled to accept the hospitality of such people, while I writhed at my own impotence, my helplessness when I wished to interfere. You know--she knows--how I have kept silence. Not one word of warning have I uttered to her. She must have seen and felt what was being hatched, but neither she nor I could have realised that the cowardly young ruffian lying there would have dared to insult a weak gentle girl whose very aspect claimed a man's respect and protection. A lie? It is the truth, James Wilton."

"Oh, my poor, poor boy!" wailed Mrs Wilton; "and I did beg and pray of you not to be too rash."

"Will you hold your tongue, woman?" roared Wilton.

"Yes, for heaven's sake be silent, madam," cried Garstang; "there was no need for you to indorse my words, and lower yourself more in your poor niece's eyes."

"Look here," cried Wilton, who was going to and fro beyond the library table, writhing under the lash of his solicitor's tongue; "it's all a bit of nonsense; the foolish fellow s.n.a.t.c.hed a kiss, I suppose."

"s.n.a.t.c.hed a kiss!" cried Garstang, scornfully. "Look at her: quivering with horror and indignation."

"I won't look at her. I won't be talked to like this in my own house."

"Your own house!" said Garstang, contemptuously.

"Yes, sir; mine till the law forces me to give it up. I won't have it.

It's my house, and I won't stand here and be bullied by any man."

"Oh, don't, don't, don't make things worse, James," wailed Mrs Wilton.

"Send for the Doctor; his heart is beating still."

"You hold your tongue, and don't you make things worse," roared her husband. "As for him--curse him!--it's all his doing."

"But he's lying here insensible, and you won't send for help."

"No, I won't. Do you think I want Leigh and his sister, and then the whole parish, to know what has been going on? The servants will talk enough."

"But he's dying, James."

"You said he was dead just now. Chuck some cold water over the idiot, and bring him to. d.a.m.n him! I should like to horsewhip him!"

"You should have done it often, years ago," said Garstang, bitterly.

"It is too late now."

"You mind your own business," shouted Wilton, turning upon him; "I can't talk like you do, but I can say what I mean, and it's this: I'm master here yet, and I'll stand no more of it. I don't care for your deeds and doc.u.ments. I won't have you here to insult me and my wife, and what's more, if you've done that boy a mischief we'll see what the law can do.

You shall suffer as well as I. Now then: off with you; pack and go, and I'll show you that the law protects me as well as you. Kate, my girl, you've nothing to be frightened about. Come to me here."

She clung the more tightly to her protector.

"Then come to your aunt," said Wilton, fiercely. "Get up, Maria," he shouted. "Can't you see I want you here?"

"Get up? Oh, James, James, I can't leave my boy."

"Get up, before you put me in a rage," he yelled. "Now, then, Kate, come here; and I tell you this, John Garstang. I give you a quarter of an hour, and if you're not gone then, the men shall throw you out."

"What!" cried Garstang, sternly, as he drew himself up. "Go and leave this poor girl here to your tender mercies?"

"Yes, sir; go and leave 'this poor girl,' as you call her, to my tender mercies."

"I can not; I will not," said Garstang, firmly.

"But I say you shall, Mr Lawyer. You know enough of such things to feel that you must. Curse you and your interference. Kate, my dear, I am your poor dead father's executor, and your guardian."

"Yes, it is true," said Garstang, bitterly. "Poor fellow, it was the one mistake of a good, true life. He had faith in his brother."

"More than he had in you," cried Wilton. "Do you hear what I say, Kate?

Don't visit upon your aunt and me the stupid folly of that boy, whose sin is that he is very fond of you, and frightened you by a bit of loving play."

"Loving play!" cried Garstang, scornfully.

"Yes, my dear, loving play. I vouch for it, and so will his mother."

"Yes, yes, yes, Kate, dear. He does love you. He told me so, and if he did wrong, poor, poor boy, see how he has been punished."

"There, my dear, you hear," cried Wilton, trying hard to speak gently and winningly to her, but failing dismally. "Come to your aunt now."

"Yes, Kate, darling, do, do please, and help me to try and bring him round. You don't want to see him lie a corpse at his sorrowing mother's feet?"

"Come here, Kate," cried Wilton, fiercely now. "Don't you make me angry. I am your guardian, and you must obey me. Come away from that man."

She shuddered, and began to sob now violently.

"Ah, that's better. You're coming to your senses now, and seeing things in their proper light. Now, John Garstang, you heard what I said--go."

"Yes, my child," said Garstang, taking one of Kate's hands, and raising it tenderly to his lips, "your uncle is right. I have no place here, no right to protect you, and I must go, trusting that good may come out of evil, and that what has pa.s.sed, besides opening your eyes to what is a thorough conspiracy, will give you firmness to protect yourself, and teach them that such a project as theirs is an infamy."

"Don't stand preaching there, man. Your time's nearly up. Go, before you are made. Come here to your aunt, Kate."

"No, my dear, do nothing of the sort," said Garstang, gently, as she slowly raised her head and gazed imploringly in his face. "You are but a girl, but you must play the woman now--the firm, strong woman who has to protect herself. Go up to your room and insist upon staying there until you have a guarantee that this insolent cub, who is lying here pretending to be insensible, shall cease his pretensions or be sent away. There, go, and heaven protect you; I can do no more."

Kate drew herself up erect and gazed at him mournfully for a few moments, and then said firmly:

"Yes, Mr Garstang, I will do as you say. Good-bye."

"Good-bye," he said, as he bent down and softly kissed her forehead.

Then she walked firmly from the room.

"Brave girl!" said Garstang; "she will be a match for you and your plans now, James Wilton."

"Will you go, sir?" roared the other.

"Yes, I will go. Then it is to be war between us, is it?"

"What you like; I'm reckless now; but you can't interfere with me there."

"No, and I will not trample upon a worm when it is down. I shall take no petty revenge, and you dare not persecute that poor girl. Good-bye to you both, and may this be a lesson to you and your foolish wife. As for you, you cur, if I hear that you have insulted your cousin again--a girl that any one with the slightest pretension to being a man would have looked upon as a sister--law or no law, I'll come down and thrash you within an inch of your life. I'm a strong man yet, as you know."

He turned and walked proudly out of the room; and as soon as his step had ceased to ring on the oaken floor of the hall Wilton turned savagely upon his son, where he lay upon the thick Turkey carpet, and roared: