Mildred Arkell Volume Iii Part 38

"I have a headache, Mildred."

It was a day or two after this, and but a few days previous to the completion of the wedding, when unpleasant rumours, touching the solvency of the good old house of George Arkell and Son, reached the ears of Miss Arkell. They were whispered to her by Mr. Palmer, the old friend of the family.

"It is said their names will be in the _Gazette_ the day after to-morrow, unless some foreign help can come to them."

Miss Arkell sat, deeply shocked; and poor Lucy's colour went and came, showing the effect the news had upon her.

"I had no idea that they were in embarra.s.sment," said Mildred.

"It is so. You see, this wedding of young Travice Arkell's, that is to bring so much money into the family, has been delayed too long,"

observed Mr. Palmer. "It is said now that Travice, poor fellow, has an unconquerable antipathy to his bride, and though he consented to the alliance to save his family, he has been unable to bring his mind to conclude it. While the gra.s.s grows, the steed starves, you know."

"Miss Fauntleroy was willing that her money should be sacrificed."

"It would not have been sacrificed, not a penny of it; but the use of it would have enabled the house to redeem its own money, and bring its affairs to a satisfactory close. Had there been any risk to the money, William Arkell would not have agreed to touch it: you know his honourable nature. However, through the protracted delay--which Travice will no doubt reflect sharply upon himself for--the marriage and the money will come too late to save them."

Mr. Palmer departed, and Lucy sat like one in a dream. Her aunt glanced at her, and mused, and glanced again. "What are you thinking of, Lucy?"

she asked.

Lucy burst into tears. "Aunt, I was thinking what a blight it is to be poor! If I had thousands, I would willingly devote them all to save Mr.

Arkell. Papa told me, when he lay dying, how his cousin William had helped him from time to time; had saved his home more than once; and had never been paid back again."

"And suppose you _had_ money--attend to me, Lucy, for I wish a serious answer--suppose you were in possession of money, would you be really willing to sacrifice a portion of it, to save this good friend, William Arkell?"

"All, aunt, all!" she answered, eagerly, "and think it no sacrifice."

"Then put on your bonnet, Lucy, child," returned Miss Arkell, "and come with me."

They went forth to the house of Mr. Arkell; and as it turned out, the visit was opportune, for Mrs. Arkell was away, dining from home. Mr.

Arkell was in a little back parlour, looking over accounts and papers, with his son. The old man--and he was looking an old man that evening, with trouble, not with years--rose in surprise when he saw who were his visitors, and Travice's hectic colour went and came. Mildred had never been in the room since she was a young woman, and it called up painful recollections. It was the twilight hour of the evening: that best hour, of all the twenty-four, for any embarra.s.sing communication.

"William," began Miss Arkell, seating herself by her cousin, and speaking in a low tone, "we have heard it whispered that your affairs are temporarily involved. Is it so?"

"The world will soon know it, Mildred, above a whisper."

"It is even so then! What has led to it?"

"Oh, Mildred! can you ask what has led to it, when you look at the misery and distress everywhere around us? Search the _Gazette_ for the past years, and see how many names you will find in it, who once stood as high as ours! The only wonder is, that we have not yet gone with the stream. It is a hard case, Mildred, when we have toiled all our lives, that the labour should come to nothing at last," he continued; "that our closing years, which ought to be given to thoughts of another world, must be distracted with the anxious cares of this."

"Is your difficulty serious, or only temporary?" resumed Miss Arkell.

"It ought to be only temporary," he replied; "but the worst is, I cannot, at the present moment, command my resources. We have kept on manufacturing, hoping for better times; and, to tell you the truth, Mildred, I could not reconcile it to my conscience to turn off my old workmen to beggary. There was Travice, too. I have a heavy stock of goods on hand; to the amount of some thousands; and this locks up my diminished capital. I am still worth what would cover my business liabilities twice over--and I have no others--but I cannot avail myself of it for present emergencies. I have turned every stone, Mildred, to keep my head above water: and I believe I can struggle no longer."

"What amount of money would effectually relieve you?" asked Miss Arkell.

"About three thousand pounds," he replied, answering the question without any apparent interest.

"Then to-morrow morning vouchers for that sum shall be placed in the Westerbury bank at your disposal. _And for double that sum, if you require it._"

Mr. Arkell looked up in astonishment; and finally addressed to her the very words which he had once before done, in early life, upon a far different subject.

"You are dreaming, Mildred!"

She remembered them; had she ever forgotten one word said to her on that eventful night? and sighed as she replied:

"This money is mine. I enjoyed, as you know, a most liberal salary for seven or eight-and-twenty years; and the money, as it came in, was placed out from the first to good interest; later, a part of it to good use. Lady Dewsbury also bequeathed me a munificent sum by her will; so that altogether I am worth----"

His excessive surprise could not let her continue. That Mildred had saved just sufficient to live upon, he had deemed probable; but not more. She had been always a.s.sisting Peter. He interrupted her with words to this effect.

Mildred smiled. "I could place at your disposal twelve thousand pounds, if needs must," she said. "I had a friend who helped me to lay out my money to advantage. It was Mr. Dund.y.k.e. William, _how_ can I better use part of this money than by serving you?"

William Arkell shook his head in deprecation. Not all at once, in the suddenness of the surprise, could he accept the idea of being a.s.sisted by Mildred. Peter had taken enough from her.

"Peter did not take enough from me," she firmly said. "It is only since Peter's death that I have learnt how straitened he always was--he kept it from me. I have been taking great blame to myself, for it seems to me that I ought to have guessed it--and I did not. But Peter is gone, and you are left. Oh, William, let me help you!"

"Mildred, I have no right to it from _you_."

She laid her hand upon his arm in her eagerness. She bent her gentle face, with its still sweet expression, near to him, and spoke in a whisper.

"_Let_ me help you. It will be a recompense for the past pain of my lonely life."

His eyes looked straight into hers for the moment. "I have had my pain, too, Mildred."

"But this loan? you will take it. Lucy, speak up," added Miss Arkell, turning to her niece. "This money is willed to you, and will be yours sometime. Is it not at your wish that I come this evening, as well as at my own?"

"Oh, sir," sobbed Lucy to Mr. Arkell, "take it all. Let my aunt retain what will be sufficient for her life, but keep none for me; I am young and healthy, and can go out and work for my living, as she has done.

Take all the rest, and save the credit of the family."

William Arkell turned to Lucy, the tears trickling down his cheeks. She had taken off her bonnet on entering, and he laid his hand fondly on her head.

"Lucy, child, were this money exclusively your aunt's, I would not hesitate to make use of sufficient of it now to save my good name. In that ease, I should wind up my affairs as soon as would be conveniently possible, retire from business, and see how far what is left to me would go towards a living. It would be enough; and my wife would have to bring her mind to think it so. But this sum that your aunt offers me--that you second--may be the very money she has been intending to hand over with you as a marriage portion. And what would your husband say at its being thus temporarily appropriated?"

"My husband!" exclaimed Lucy, in amazement; "a marriage portion for me!

When I take the one, it will be time enough to think of the other." Miss Arkell, too, looked up with a questioning gaze, for she had quite forgotten the little romance--her romance--concerning young Mr. Palmer.

"I shall never marry," continued Lucy, in answer to Mr. Arkell's puzzled look. "I think I am better as I am."

"But, Lucy, you _are_ going to marry. You are going to marry Tom Palmer."

Lucy laughed. She could not help it, she said, apologetically. She had laughed ever since he asked her, except just at the time, at the very idea of her marrying Tom Palmer, the little friend of her girlhood. Tom laughed at it himself now; and they were as good friends as before. "But how _did_ you hear of it?" she exclaimed.

Travice came forward, his cheek pale, his lip quivering. He laid his fevered hand on Lucy's shoulder.

"Is this true, Lucy?" he whispered. "Is it true that you do not love Tom Palmer?"

"Love him!" cried Lucy, indignantly, sad reproach in her eye, as she turned it on Travice. "You have seen us together hundreds of times; did you ever detect anything in my manner to induce you to think I 'loved'

him?"