Denzil Quarrier Part 42

She likes you so much, and gives such weight to everything you say. Try to set her mind at ease, Mrs. Wade; you can do it if any one can."

"I will write to her, and then call to-morrow."

Again Lilian had a night without thorough rest, and for the greater part of the next day she was obliged to keep her room. There Mrs. Wade visited her, and they talked for a long time; it was decided that Lilian should go to Pear-tree Cottage on the following afternoon, and remain in seclusion until the contest was over.

She came down at five o'clock. Denzil, who had instructed the servants that she was at home to no one, sat with her in the library, holding her hand.

"I am quite well," Lilian declared again and again. "I feel quite easy in mind--indeed I do. As you wish it, I will go to Mrs. Wade's, but"----

"It will be very much better. To tell you the truth, girlie, I shall feel so much freer--knowing you are out of the row, and in such good care."

She looked at him.

"How wretched to be so weak, Denzil! I might have spared you more than half what you have suffered, if I hadn't given way so."

"Nonsense! Most women would have played the coward--and _that_ you never could! You have stood it bravely, dear. But it's your health I fear for. Take care of it for my sake."

Most of the evening he was away, and again the whole of next morning.

But when the time came for her to leave, they were sitting once more, as they had done so often, hand in hand, their love and trust stronger than ever, too strong to find expression in mere words.

"If I go into Parliament," said Denzil, "it's you I have to thank for it. You have faced and borne everything rather than disappoint my aims."

He raised her fingers to his lips. Then the arrival of the carriage was announced, and when the door had closed again, they held each other for a moment in pa.s.sionate embrace.

"Good-bye for a night and a day at longest," he whispered by the carriage door. "I shall come before midnight to-morrow."

She tried to say good-bye, but could not utter a sound. The wheels grated, and she was driven rapidly away.

CHAPTER XXIV

Arthur James Northway reached London in a mood of imperfect satisfaction. On the principle that half a cake was better than nothing, he might congratulate himself that he carried in his pocket-book banknotes to the value of five hundred pounds; but it was a bitter necessity that had forbidden his exacting more. The possession of a sum greater than he had ever yet owned fired his imagination; he began to reflect that, after all, Quarrier's defiance was most likely nothing but a ruse; that by showing himself resolved, he might have secured at least the thousand pounds. Then he cursed the man Marks, whose political schemes would betray the valuable secret, and make it certain that none of that more substantial a.s.sistance promised by Quarrier would ever be given. And yet, it was not disagreeable to picture Quarrier's rage when he found that the bribe had been expended to no purpose. If he had felt animosity against the wealthy man before meeting him face to face, he now regarded him with a fiercer malevolence. It was hard to relinquish Lilian, and harder still to have no means of revenging himself upon her and her pretended husband.

Humiliated by consciousness of the base part he had played, he wished it in his power to inflict upon them some signal calamity.

On the next day, when he was newly arrayed from head to foot, and jingled loose sovereigns in his pocket, this tumult of feelings possessed him even more strongly. Added to his other provocations was the uncertainty whether Marks had yet taken action. Save by returning to Polterham, he knew not how to learn what was happening there.

To-morrow a Polterham newspaper would be published; he must wait for that source of intelligence. Going to a news-agent's, he discovered the name of the journal, and at once posted an order for a copy to be sent to him.

In the meantime, he was disposed to taste some of the advantages of opulence. His pa.s.sions were awakened; he had to compensate himself for years lost in suffering of body and mind. With exultant swagger he walked about the London streets, often inspecting his appearance in a gla.s.s; for awhile he could throw aside all thought of the future, relish his freedom, take his licence in the way that most recommended itself to him.

The hours did not lag, and on the following afternoon he received the newspaper for which he was waiting. He tore it open, and ran his eye over the columns, but they contained no extraordinary matter. Nothing unexpected had befallen; there was an account of the nomination, and plenty of rancour against the Radicals, but a.s.suredly, up to the hour of the _Mercury's_ going to press, no public scandal had exploded in Polterham.

What did it mean? Was Marks delaying for some definite reason? Or had he misrepresented his motives? Was it a private enmity he had planned to gratify--now frustrated by the default of his instrument?

He had given Marks an address in Bristol, that of a shop at which letters were received. Possibly some communication awaited him there.

He hastened to Paddington and took the first westward train.

On inquiry next morning, he found he had had his journey for nothing.

As he might have antic.i.p.ated, Marks was too cautious a man to have recourse to writing.

There were still two days before the poll at Polterham. Thither he must return, that was certain; for if the election pa.s.sed without startling events, he would again be in a position to catch Quarrier by the throat.

To be sure, there was the promise of a.s.sistance in a commercial career, but his indulgence of the last day or two had inclined him to prefer sums of ready money. Once elected, Quarrier would not submit to social disgrace for the sake of a thousand pounds--nor for two thousand--possibly not for five. Cupidity had taken hold upon Northway.

With a few thousands in his pocket, he might aim at something more to his taste than a life of trading. Five thousand it should be, not a penny less! This time he was not to be fobbed off with bl.u.s.ter and posturing.

He spent the day in Bristol, and at nightfall journeyed towards Polterham.

No; even yet nothing had happened. Conversation at an inn to which he betook himself a.s.sured him that things were going their orderly way.

Had Marks himself been _bought off_?

The next day--that before the election--he wandered about the town and its vicinity, undetermined how to act, thinking on the whole that he had better do nothing till after the morrow. Twice, morning and afternoon, did he view Mrs. Wade's cottage from a distance. Just after sunset he was once more in that neighbourhood, and this time with a purpose.

At that hour Mrs. Wade and her guest were together in the sitting-room.

The lamp had just been lighted, the red blind drawn down. Lilian reclined on a couch; she looked worse in health than when she had taken leave of Denzil; her eyes told of fever, and her limbs were relaxed.

Last night she had not enjoyed an hour of sleep; the strange room and the recollection of Northway's visit to this house (Quarrier, in his faith that Mrs. Wade's companionship was best for Lilian, had taken no account of the disagreeable a.s.sociation) kept her nerves in torment, and with the morning she had begun to suffer from a racking headache.

Mrs. Wade was talking, seated by the table, on which her arms rested.

She, too, had a look of nervous tension, and her voice was slightly hoa.r.s.e.

"Ambition," she said, with a slow emphasis, "is the keynote of Mr.

Quarrier's character. If you haven't understood that, you don't yet know him--indeed you don't! A n.o.ble ambition, mind. He is above all meanness. In wishing to take a foremost part in politics, he cares, at heart, very little for the personal dignity it will bring him; his desire--I am convinced--is to advance all causes that appeal to an honest and feeling man. He has discovered that he can do this in a way he had never before suspected--by the exercise of a splendid gift of eloquence. What a deplorable thing if that possibility had been frustrated!"

Lilian murmured an a.s.sent. Silence followed, and she closed her eyes.

In a minute or two Mrs. Wade turned to look; the expression which grew upon her face as she watched furtively was one of subtlest malice. Of scorn, too. Had _she_ been in the position of that feeble creature, how differently would she have encountered its perils!

"Is your head any better?" she asked, just above her breath.

"It burns!--Feel my hand, how hot it is!"

"You are feverish. We have talked too much, I fear."

"No; I like to hear you talk. And it pa.s.ses the time. Oh, I hope Denzil won't be very late!"

There sounded a knock at the front door, a heavy rap such as would be given by some rustic hand.

"What can that be?" Lilian exclaimed, raising herself.

"Nothing, dear--nothing. Some errand boy."

The servant was heard in the pa.s.sage. She brought a letter, and said a messenger waited for the reply. Mrs. Wade looked at the address; the hand was unknown to her.

"From Denzil?" asked Lilian.

The other made no reply. What she found in the envelope was a note from Northway, saying he was close by and wished to see her. After a moment's hesitation she went to the door, where a boy was standing.

"Will you tell the person who gave you this note that he may come here?"