Cursed by a Fortune Part 65

Kate darted to the door, flung it open, and stood with flashing eyes, pointing outward.

"Oh, yes, ma'am, of course I'll go; but do, pray, take my advice. You see, you're bound to marry him now, and--"

The door was closed upon her, and Kate began to pace up and down, like some timid creature freshly awakened to the fact of its being caged, and grown desperate at the thought.

"Helpless, and a prisoner!" she groaned to herself. "What shall I do?

Is there no way of escape?" And once more the thought of Jenny Leigh and her brother came to her mind, and the feeling grew stronger that she might find help there.

But it seemed impossible unless she could write and stamp a letter and throw it from the window, trusting to some one to pick it up and post it.

No; the idea seemed weak and vain, and she cast it from her, as she paced up and down, with her hands clasped and pressed to her throbbing breast.

"There is no help--no help!" she moaned, and then uttered a faint cry of alarm, for the door behind her was softly opened, and the idea that it was Garstang flashed through her brain as she looked wildly round.

Becky's white tied-up face was just thrust in, and the door held tightly to, as if about to act as a perpendicular guillotine and shave through her neck.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

Kate uttered a gasp of relief on finding her fear needless, and darted towards the door, when, to her despair, the grotesque head was s.n.a.t.c.hed back.

"Becky! Becky!" she cried piteously, as the door was closing; and she stood still, not daring to approach.

Her action had its effect, for the door was slowly pressed open again, and the bow of the washed-out cotton handkerchief which bandaged the woman's face gradually appeared, the ends, which stuck up like a small pair of horns, trembling visibly. Then by very small degrees the woman's forehead and the rest of the face appeared, with the eyes showing the white all round, as their owner gazed at the prisoner with her usual scared look intensified.

"Pray come in, Becky," said Kate, softly; and she drew back towards a chair, so as to try and inspire a little confidence.

The head was slowly shaken, and the door drawn once more tightly against the woman's long thin neck.

"Whatcher want?" she said, faintly.

"I want you to come in and talk to me," said Kate in a low, appealing tone. "I want you to help me."

"Dursn't."

"Yes, yes, you dare. Pray, pray don't say that I have no one to ask but you. Oh, Becky, Becky, I am so unhappy. If you have a woman's heart within your breast, have pity on me!"

"Gug!"

A spasm contracted the pallid face as a violent sob escaped from her lips, and the tears began to flow from the dilated eyes, and were accompanied by unpleasant sniffs.

"Don't make me cr-cr-cry, miss, please."

"No, no, don't cry, Becky dear, pray," whispered Kate, anxiously.

"You make me, miss--going on like that; and d-don't call me dear, please. I ain't dear to n.o.body; I'm a miserable wretch."

"I always pitied you, Becky, but you never would let me be kind to you."

"N-no, miss. It don't do no good. On'y makes me mis'rable."

"But I must be; I will be kind to you, Becky, and try and make you happy," whispered Kate.

"Tain't to be done, miss, till I die," said the woman, sadly; and then there was a triumphant light in her eyes, and her face lit up as she said more firmly, "but I'm going to be happy then."

"Yes, yes, and I'll try to make you happy while you live; but you will help me, dear?"

The poor creature shook her head.

"Yes, you will--I'm sure you will," pleaded Kate. "But pray come in."

"Dursn't, miss."

"But I am in such trouble, Becky."

"Yes, I know; he wants to marry you, and he's going to keep you locked up till he does. I know."

"Yes, yes; and I want to get away."

"But you can't," whispered the woman, and she withdrew her head, and Kate in her despair thought she had gone. But the head reappeared slowly. "n.o.body watching," she whispered.

"I must go away, and you must help me, Becky," whispered Kate.

"It's no good. He won't let you, miss. But don't you marry him."

"Never!" cried Kate.

"Hush, or they'll hear you; and mother's siding with him, and going to help him. She says he's an angel, but he's all smooth smiles, and talks to you like a saint, but he's a horrid wretch."

"Yes, yes. But now listen to me."

"Yes, I'm a-listening, miss. It's all because you're so pretty and handsome, and got lots o' money, aintcher?"

"Yes, unhappily," sighed Kate.

"That's what he wants. He got all poor old master's money, and the house and furniture out of him."

"He did?" whispered Kate, excitedly.

"Yes, miss; I know. Mother says it's all nonsense, and that we ought to love him, because he's such a good man. But I know better. Poor old master used to tell me when I took him up his letters: 'Ah, Becky, my poor girl, you are disappointed and unhappy,' he says, 'but I'm more unhappy still. That man won't be satisfied till he has ground the last farthing out of me, and there's nothing left but my corpse.' I didn't believe him, and I said, 'Don't let him have it, sir.' 'Ah, Becky,' he says, 'I'm obliged; signed papers are stronger than iron chains,' he says, 'and he's always dragging at the end. But he shall have it all, and heavy pounds o' flesh at the end, and the bones too.' I didn't know what he meant, miss; and I didn't believe as anyone could be as unlucky as me. But I believed him at last, when I went to his room and found him dead on the floor; and then I knew he must be worse than I was, for I couldn't have done what he did."

"Becky," whispered Kate, fixing the trembling woman with her eyes, "I can understand how people who are very unhappy seek for rest in death.

Do you wish to come here some morning, and find me lying dead?"

"Oh, miss!" cried the woman, excitedly, pushing the door more open; "don't, please don't you go and do a thing like that. You're too young and beautiful, and--oh, oh, oh! Please don't talk so; I can't abear it--pray!"

"Then help me, Becky, for I tell you I would sooner die."