Miles Tremenhere Volume I Part 18

No one but Burton shall know the day, or my plans: and _then_ we can indeed defy him!" And the self-confident man sat down to finish his letter to Burton, resolved to mention Tremenhere's visit to no one else, unless questioned about it. Days pa.s.sed, and nothing had occurred to arouse a suspicion in his mind that Miles was at work. He was not a man to suspect the under-current of a stream, smooth on the surface. He was planning, and another was watching. Even yet, Miles could not find resolution to urge Minnie to an extreme step; they had not met since the night in Mrs. Gillett's room, but they had _seen_ each other. The age of romance will never quite expire, even in this one of matter-of-fact: while Love exists, he will summon his own regal court around him, where pure hearts are in his keeping, and their love-knots not gilded. Juvenal never dreamed of watchings and wooings in those later hours of the night, when even his green tea failed to keep him wakeful; and, in those hours, Tremenhere stood beneath Minnie's window, and a cord from a trembling hand was their telegraphic wire to speed their communications from one to another. No one had seen Tremenhere since the day he quitted Juvenal, who became impressed with the idea that he had quitted in despair; but the cleverer general was quietly watching events from Farmer Weld's, who was too true to him to betray his concealment to any one. Even Mrs. Gillett thought he had left, and blessed her stars, and every thing else of lucky influence, which had induced him to quit, for now her mind was at rest. Only Burton suspected the truth; he knew Miles's disposition too well, and, consequently, strongly urged Juvenal to bring Minnie off, at a moment's notice, _at night_; and this the other resolved to do. Dorcas had a long interview with Skaife, and a certain want of energy in her character was gently censured by him, for her leaving Minnie so long without even a line: "What can I do?" she asked, irresolute; "my brother will not let me see her; I am waiting quietly till his strange humour pa.s.s away."

"And meanwhile you leave Miss Dalzell under, I must say, an unwarrantable oppression, which will prey on her proud spirit, unsupported, uncomforted. She will unquestionably think herself deserted by all, and the consequences may be fatal."

Skaife would not say more, or betray Miles even by a hint. Dorcas, acting upon this advice, wrote to Minnie, and Mrs. Gillett bore it--but the missive came too late. The girl's heart had brooded so long in silence, and supposed neglect, which, as far as Dorcas was concerned, had been want of decision, and that energy which might have brought Juvenal to reason, for her every thought had been her niece's; but she resigned herself too quietly to her brother's prohibition of visits.

Dorcas said to herself, "I'll wait patiently--his humour will change--Minnie knows I love her." When, however, we are in trouble, a little _a.s.surance_ of affectionate watching is very comforting--silence often breeds doubt--it did in Minnie's case. She was on one hand persecuted by Juvenal and Sylvia, and unsupported on the other; 'tis then not to be wondered at, if she threw all her confidence and affection on the one who so well returned her love--Tremenhere; and her aunt's letter fell cold, uncared for, from her hand, and the resolution to act for herself grew only stronger. While she was in this state, Tremenhere was silently watching all. When men are very much in love, they are very like the fabled bucket, through which every drop of water pa.s.sed again as soon as drawn from the well. Juvenal had a pet groom--his right-hand man in all things--his factotum, and he certainly merited his master's confidence; but--he fell in love! and a sort of Montague and Capulet affair it was with a dairymaid at, and poor relation of, Farmer Weld's. This stout wench was in the confidence of her master, and a firm adherent of Tremenhere's, so she listened to the wooing of her lover, not from any persuasion of the little blind G.o.d, but simply to know all that was pa.s.sing at Gatestone. It is not from evil propensities that servants always speak of their master's affairs, but because persons not gifted with imagination, speak everyday facts; thus groom Thomas, like the bucket in question, drew all from the well of his master's heart, to moisten the greedy clay of woman's curiosity; and, in return, he got chaff which blew away before the winds, of service to no one. Thomas, too, was very wise in his own conceit, and said to himself, "Poor gal, she's so much in love with me, she can't keep nothing to herself!" and he posted off to his master with accounts of letters received from Tremenhere from town, and, while he carried off his winnowings, Sally trudged home with many a good oat-cake at his expense. This continued about a week; and every night, owl-like, Miles crept forth, and Minnie's soft voice whispered "Good-night, dearest!" as she let down, and drew up their respective letters.

One day Sally returned from an evening walk with Thomas, in a state of much agitation; she learned from him that Mr. Dalby, the lawyer, was always now closeted with his master, and that Thomas had been sent in solemn secresy to Harrogate, to order a chaise and posters for the following evening at eight; and his master had told him to be sure and say nothing to _anybody_ about it, especially not to Miss Formby, or Miss Dorcas, as he was going to take off Miss Dalzell to Lancashire at a minute's notice; so all must be prepared, and he, Thomas, ready to go with them--that a word in the house would ruin all!

"Lor'!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the really astonished Sally.

"Ain't it fine?" said the man; "and won't Miss be taken by surprise? as master says it's very wrong of her to fly in his face, as she does--in coorse, he must know best what's good for her; and n.o.body sha'n't know it from me, I'll take precious care of that!" and he rubbed his hands, and winked knowingly.

"And don't Miss Minnie suspect, think ye?"

"Not she, nor n.o.body; it's all been done main clever, I can tell you; and as the shay drives round to the front door, Master and Mr. Dalby goes up and brings her down, and we postesses two posts, that there mayn't be no row in this part, 'cause she might kick up a to-do at the station, and Mr. Dalby goes part ways on the d.i.c.ky with me!"

"Does he?" said Sally, colouring at this treachery. "He's quite given up young Miss himself, then?"

"Oh, yes! from all I hears, and I'm pretty 'cute, he and the squire be all in all; it's to Miss Burton's young miss be goin'." This latter speech was uttered in a whisper.

"Ah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Sally, in thought.

"What be 'e thinkin' on?" asked Thomas, pressing the arm which reposed on his own. "I guess you be thinkin' there won't be all this fuss when we marries," etc., etc., etc. Here the amorous swain rushed off into a maze of love's intricacies, little interesting to the reader, or indeed to Sally, who took the earliest opportunity of finding the silken cord, and getting out of it, leaving the cautious Thomas watching, in the twilight, her buxom figure as she sped homewards. Red and excited she entered the farm kitchen, and, flying up the stairs, tapped at a door, and then bounced in. Tremenhere sat there, and not less than her own, was his agitation, when she unloaded her budget; he thanked his faithful messenger for her vigilance, and after a consultation with the homely farmer, who was summoned to the room, this latter started off for Harrogate, to discover if really the chaise had been ordered, as reported. With some little manoeuvring he found out, beyond a doubt, that it was a fact. What he then did--what they had mutually decided upon--will be shortly seen. To have carried off Minnie at that late hour would have been impracticable--How succeed? this was their first thought, but no posters could be obtained as relays; there would be no train to a.s.sist them so advanced in the night, for he could not see Minnie to convey the intelligence until nearly midnight. To fly, and be overtaken, were worse than all. Poor Miles paced his room in an agony of mind nothing can paint; until that supreme moment he did not know how dear Minnie was, all his energy seemed for a while crushed; he clenched his hands, and the thick, knotted veins swelled in his forehead, as the heaving breast sent the boiling blood to his brain. He cursed his own folly, his scruples for waiting so long, now all these had disappeared; present fears, future reflections on imprudence, all were cast aside: he only saw Minnie separated from himself, in Marmaduke's and her uncle's power, with Dalby to back them in villainy. He cared for nothing which might be said, he forgot all his mother's wrongs, from perhaps a want of strict prudence, (of error he never dreamed,) which had so long upheld him in a resolution to only win _his_ wife before all the world, and by all its most rigid laws of prudence and right. He sat down at last, with his watch clutched in his hand, counting the weary moments till he could visit Gatestone. A cold sweat hung on his brow, as he thought some unforeseen event, impossible to conquer, might mar all, and thus he sat, in the bitter agony of a lone heart, which, though it may find kind, sympathizing friends, finds not one to comprehend all its suffering--not one to speak as it would. As the weary hours crept by, he was worn almost to woman's weakness; for at a moment when he needed all to support himself in calmness, Farmer Weld, or perhaps Sally, would enter his room, or the farmer's good dame, and by their well-meant, but quiet reasoning, nearly drive his warm temperament frantic; it was not only one fear he had, but dozens came crowding around him, for all was cast on one chance. He could not say--"If this fail--well, to-morrow."

No, there was no morrow for him if the project crumbled to earth. She would be away under coercion and watchings, and these doubled, if they discovered any attempt of his, even though it should prove abortive. In this fearful state, he at last quitted the farm. The night air revived him, and he felt calm as he stopped under Minnie's window; more especially when her little white hand drew aside the curtain, and she looked forth.

CHAPTER XVII.

The night pa.s.sed--then succeeded morning--noon--and evening. Juvenal had been very busy all day. n.o.body but Dalby, who was closeted with him, and the trusty Thomas, knew wherefore. The two first worthies had it all to themselves; for Sylvia felt piqued with her recreant _protege_ for preferring interest to love. Dorcas disliked him much. It therefore was not a very sociable dinner party that day at six, when the four sat down together. We will leave them in their monosyllabic conversation, spiced with occasional words of secret meaning between Juvenal and his guest, and go up-stairs with Mrs. Gillett, to Minnie's room, when she entered with the prisoner's dinner. The latter was sitting at a table; before her was a casket, out of which all the little treasures of her young life were taken, and spread on the table, and as she eyed them, her eyes were swimming in tears; yet she looked flushed, and nervous. When Gillett entered, she involuntarily sprang up, and turned pale, as in terror.

"Dear heart alive!" exclaimed the woman, "how very nervous you are, poor child! And so I told master to-day, and he has promised you shall soon be at liberty; so cheer up, there's a dear." She spoke very kindly; but Minnie looked fixedly at her, to read if she too were plotting against her. She was beginning that worst pain--suspicion of all. But poor Gillett was white as snow in this affair; and thus Minnie read her clear, kind look, and she stretched out her hand and clasped her's; and with the act, tears rolled down her cheek. Juvenal, by Dalby's advice, trusted no woman. This man had an instinctive dread and knowledge, that the female heart is _generally_ too kind to unite in a wrong act, unless the possessor be unworthy her s.e.x. Man acts without thought often, and consents without reflection, to a crooked deed of seeming uprightness.

Perhaps woman's natural love of diving into mysteries makes her fathom all, and _then_ judge for herself.

"Now, don't--there's a dear!" cried Mrs. Gillett, dropping on one knee, and taking Minnie's hand in both of her's; "don't cry. I hate to see you cry, Miss, indeed, I do; it always reminds me of your poor dear mamma; she used to sit and cry, so silent like, till she went after the captain."

"Don't talk of her _now_, Gillett--my good Gillett!" whispered the girl, shuddering; "I've been looking at her picture--see, here it is." She took a miniature from the table, "And--and--don't you think she looks frowningly upon me? I have thought so all day."

"Lauk, dear! how can the picture change? There it is; and it can't look sweeter, nor crosser--poor, dear lady!--she never looked cross on any one."

"Don't speak of her!" cried Minnie, in agony, dropping her head on the woman's shoulder, and sobbing.

"I told your uncle how it would be," said the other, trying to soothe Minnie, as she would have done a child, by patting her back; "but come, look up, it will all go right soon, you'll get out; and now, Master Miles is gone (and I'm sure I'm glad of it) all will be as before, and----"

Minnie rose hastily, and stood looking at the woman, as if uncertain how to act; her tears were burning on her cheeks--her lips opened to speak.

Then Miles's cautions came over her, and she turned away with a sigh.

Mrs. Gillett rose, and, smoothing down her ap.r.o.n, began laying the table with perfect composure, and confidence that all would soon be well.

Suddenly Minnie approached, and, grasping her arm, said, so wildly that the other herself stood transfixed, "Remember, Gillett--my good Gillett--whatever may happen, they drove me to it. Do not let them say all unchecked against me;--remind them how they locked me up--remind Aunt Dorcas how she left me, and did not insist upon seeing, to comfort me--remind them, that I only met Mr. Tremenhere once, wilfully, and that he had known me as a little child--do not forget all this, Gillett, but remind them often of it." And she burst into a pa.s.sionate flood of tears, and turned away.

"Poor darling!" said the housekeeper, "they have been cruel; but it was not their faults--Master listens to them as he shouldn't listen to--Come, eat a bit of chicken--just a bit: I watched it cooking for you myself--do, there's a dear!" But all her coaxing was vain. "I'll come and sleep on the sofa in her room to-night," said Gillett to herself; "she's low and narvous, poor child!"

"What's that?" cried Minnie, stopping in her hurried walk round the room.

"Only the time, dear, striking; it's half-past six!"

"The old hall clock!" whispered the girl--"my mother's clock--I wonder if I shall ever hear it again after to-night! I hope I may--I hope to Heaven I may!" And she slid gently on her knees, and raised her hands upwards. Gillett stood looking on in amazement, not unmixed with deep emotion.

"Miss Minnie, dear, shall I stay, or go?" she whispered, touching her arm. Minnie started up.

"Go," she said, hurriedly, looking towards the door--"go, and don't tell any one I have been agitated, or crying. Let me be quiet a short time, and--and--Heaven bless you, dear Gillett, for all your kindness--I _never_ shall forget it!"

She threw her arms round the woman's neck, and kindly embraced her; then, opening the door, said hurriedly, "Now, go, dear Gillett, and leave me quiet awhile."

The simple woman, without the slightest suspicion of harm, quitted the room gently, and locked the door. Minnie stood one moment, with clasped hands, listening, then turning round, she seemed, by a great effort, to shake off all lethargy and doubt. Reverentially placing her mother's picture, and a gift of aunt Dorcas's, in her bosom, she drew from her pocket a key, and with hasty hands threw over her shoulders a shawl; then, putting on her bonnet, she stood one instant in deep thought--it was the final thought--one of war between resolution and doubt.

Near the old stile, in the holly-field, stood Miles Tremenhere. He was no longer the wild, excited man; a cold, stern resolution had replaced all other emotions. He stood there, resolved _to do_, even now, by force, should other means fail. It had been in vain he toiled with his brain to arrange things otherwise: all had seemed to go against him, trains, posters--all, and here he was, expecting Minnie at seven, knowing that at eight she would leave with her uncle, if his scheme failed.

"But it will not," he said between his teeth; "she has the key; they will be at table, and she can better escape down the stairs now than earlier. Should she _not_ come, I will go up boldly and tear her from their power!"

He was desperate enough then to have attempted it. His face was cold and damp with the dew of suspense, his eyes strained with watching the way she should come; he had become so acutely wakeful, that he felt he could have heard her cry for help even there; and as moment after moment pa.s.sed, and the heavy church clock in the distance chimed a quarter past seven, he groaned aloud. "Only three quarters more, and _they_ will be there for her. Minnie! oh, Minnie! if they tore you from me now, I should smile on _any_ deed to recover you! She does not come!"

He stood like a statue, only watching the way through the shrubbery. "I will go up and claim her," he cried at last, in desperation. "Hush! were those wheels? _theirs_, to complete their good work. Hush!" and he listened, while his heart audibly beat. A hand was on his arm, and a voice, weak and thrilling like a nestling bird's, whispered, "Miles, I am here--let us go--'tis late--I have been seen." With the first word and touch, a cry burst from him, and Minnie was in an embrace of iron.

What force might tear her from it? Outside the hedge a chaise was waiting, and to this he almost carried the nearly fainting girl; they had not far to drive, but a few short miles at the pace of their good quadrupeds; and before the clock struck eight, Tremenhere's heart beat wildly with rejoicing, beside his run-away bride, flying at the rate of Gretna steam-power, and an express train, to the north. Eight o'clock struck, and with the last stroke wheels were heard creaking on the gravel at Gatestone.

"Now, Dalby," said Juvenal, "the time's come, mind you are resolute; no woman's work. I daresay she'll make a fuss, but it is for her ultimate benefit, and besides I will not have my authority questioned." Sylvia and Dorcas had retired, quite ignorant of all. "Tell Mrs. Gillett to come here, and accompany us to Miss Dalzell's room," said Juvenal to the footman.

"I don't think Miss Dalzell has returned," said the man, innocently.

"She only went out a few minutes since!" Dalby started, but Juvenal was quite composed. "You must be mistaken, Willis," he said. "Miss Dalzell is in her room. You probably saw one of the other ladies. Send Mrs.

Gillett at once."

"Oh, dear me! no, sir," responded the man. "I couldn't mistake my mississes for Miss Minnie; she pa.s.sed me in the hall with her bonnet on, and said in her kind way, 'How d'ye do, Willis?' and I was so glad to see her about again, that I watched her through the gardens."

"Why the deuce didn't you mention this before?" exclaimed Dalby, alarmed. He was the first to recover himself.

"Well, sir," answered the man, trembling, "I thought master knew it.

'Twasn't for me to speak."

"There's something wrong," cried Juvenal, tumbling over Dalby's chair in his hurried rush towards the door. The other was half-way up-stairs, muttering a deep oath. If Minnie were lost to his master Marmaduke Burton, then would he be doubly a fool, having lost a good chance with the girl, backed as he had been by Sylvia; and of course he should be disgraced with the other.

By this time the house was alarmed--Dorcas stood very pale, clasping her cold hands together--Sylvia wouldn't believe it possible--and poor Mrs.

Gillett was lamenting loudly, as Juvenal with trembling hands opened the door. There still was hope, for the door was well locked. All rushed in in a body: every thing was as we have seen it, but Minnie--the dinner untouched. How had she escaped? Not by the window, surely? No, that could not be. Willis had met her in the pa.s.sage, and 'twas this unexpected meeting which had made her go round by the gardens instead of the shrubbery. This was the only hour in which Miles saw a chance for her escape, while all were at table. 'Twas a bold stroke; but it had succeeded, like many a daring deed.

"Gillett, you know something of this!" cried Sylvia, turning towards her. Dorcas couldn't speak; she was crying bitterly; she guessed the truth. "No, as I hopes for marcy!" exclaimed the housekeeper; "I know nothing of it. I brought up her dinner, which you see, and she fell a-crying, and seemed quite down-hearted. Oh, dear! oh, dear! what was it she said, now?" and she tapped her forehead; "she told me to remind you all of such a many things, and to think I should forget every one on 'em!"

"Where could she have found a key?" asked Juvenal, suspiciously.