Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles Part 81

Halliburton? Alas for Anna! Alas for all who deviate by an untruth from the path of rect.i.tude! If the misguided child--she was little better than a child--could only have seen the future that was before her! It may have been very pleasant, very romantic to steal a march on Patience, and pace out there in the cold, chattering to Herbert Dare; listening to his protestations that he cared for no one in the world but herself; never had cared, never should care: but it was laying up for Anna a day of reckoning, the like of which had rarely fallen on a young head.

William seemed to take it all in at a glance; and, rising tumultuously over other unpleasant thoughts, came the remembrance of Henry Ashley's misplaced and ill-starred love.

With another deep breath, that was more like a groan than anything else--for Herbert Dare never brought good to any one in his life, and William knew it--William set off towards them. Whether they heard footsteps, or whether they thought the time for parting had come, certain it was that Herbert was gone before William could reach them, and Anna was speeding towards her home with a fleet step. William placed himself in her way, and she started aside with a scream that went echoing through the field. Then they had not heard him.

"William, is it thee? Thee hast frightened me nearly out of my senses."

"Anna," he gravely said, "Patience is waiting for you."

Anna Lynn's imagination led her to all sorts of fantastic fears. "Oh, William, thee hast not been in to Patience!" she exclaimed, in sudden trembling. "Thee hast not been to our house to seek me!"

They had reached his gate now. He halted, and took her hand in his, his manner impressive, his voice firm. "Anna, I must speak to you as I would to my own sister; as I might to Janey, had she lived, and been drawn into this terrible imprudence. Though, indeed, I should not then speak, but act. What tales are they that Herbert Dare is deceiving you with?"

"Hast thee been in to Patience? Hast thee been in to Patience?"

reiterated Anna.

"Patience knows nothing of this. She thinks you are at our house. I ask you, Anna, what foolish tales Herbert Dare is deceiving you with?"

Anna--relieved on the score of her fright--shook her head petulantly.

"He is not deceiving me with any. He would not deceive."

"Anna, hear me. His very nature, as I believe, is deceit. I fear he has little truth, little honour within him. Is Herbert professing to--to love you?"

"I will not answer thee aught. I will not hear thee speak against Herbert Dare."

"Anna," he continued in a lower tone, "you ought to be _afraid_ of Herbert Dare. He is not a good man."

How wilful she was! "It is of no use thy talking," she reiterated, putting her fingers to her ears. "Herbert Dare _is_ good. I will not hear thee speak against him."

"Then, Anna, as you meet it in this way, I must inform your father or Patience of what I have seen. If you will not keep yourself out of harm's way, they must do it for you."

It terrified her to the last degree. Anna could have died rather than suffer her escapade to reach the ears of home. "How can thee talk of harm, William? What harm is likely to come to me? I did no more harm talking to Herbert Dare here, than I did, talking to him in Margaret Ashley's drawing-room."

"My dear child, you do not understand things," he answered. "The very fact of your stealing from your home to walk about in this manner, however innocent it may be in itself, would do you incalculable harm in the eyes of the world. And I am quite sure that in no shape or form can Herbert Dare bring you good, or contribute to your good. Tell me one thing, Anna: Have you learnt to care much for him?"

"I don't care for him at all," responded Anna.

"No! Then why walk about with him?"

"Because it's fun to cheat Patience."

"Oh, Anna, this is very wrong, very foolish. Do you mean what you say--that you do not care for him?"

"Of course I mean it," she answered. "I think he is very kind and pleasant, and he gave me a pretty locket. But that's all. William, thee wilt not tell upon me?" she continued, clinging to his arm, her tone changing to one of entreaty, as the terror, which she had been endeavouring to conceal with light words, returned upon her. "William!

thee art kind and obliging--thee wilt not tell upon me! I will promise thee never to meet Herbert Dare again, if thee wilt not."

"It would be for your own sake, Anna, that I should speak. How do I know that you would keep your word?"

"I give thee my promise that I will! I will not meet Herbert Dare in this way again. I tell thee I do not care to meet him. Canst thee not believe me?"

He did believe her, implicitly. Her eyes were streaming; her pretty hands clung about him. He did like Anna very much, and he would not draw vexation upon her, if it could be avoided with expediency.

"I will rely upon you then, Anna. Believe me, you could not choose a worse friend in all Helstonleigh, than Herbert Dare. I have your word?"

"Yes. And I have thine."

He placed her arm within his own, and led her to the back door of her house. Patience was standing at it. "I have brought you the little truant," he said.

"It is well thee hast," replied Patience. "I had just opened the door to come after her. Anna, thee art worse than a wild thing. Running off in this manner!"

It had not been in William's way to see much of Anna's inner qualities.

He had not detected her deceit; he did not know that she could be untruthful when it suited her to be so. He had firm faith in her word, never questioning that it might be depended upon. Nevertheless, when he came afterwards to reflect upon the matter, he thought it might be his duty to give Patience a little word of caution. And this he could do without compromising Anna.

He contrived to see Patience alone the very next day. She began talking of their previous evening at the Ashleys'.

"Yes," observed William, "it was a pleasant evening. It would have been all the pleasanter, though, but for one who was there--Herbert Dare."

"I do not admire the Dares," said Patience frigidly.

"Nor I. But I observed one thing, Patience--that he admires Anna. Were Anna my sister, I should not like her to be too much admired by Herbert Dare. So take care of her."

Patience looked steadily at him. William continued, his tone confidential.

"You know what Herbert Dare is said to be, Patience--fonder of leading people to ill than to good. Anna is giddy--as you yourself tell her twenty times a day. I would keep her carefully under my own eyes. I would not even allow her to run into our house at night, as she is fond of doing," he added with marked emphasis. "She is as safe there as she is here; but it is giving her a taste of liberty that she may not be the better for in the end. When she comes in, send Grace with her, or bring her yourself: I will see her home again. Tell her she is a grown-up young lady now, and it is not proper that she should go out unattended,"

he concluded, laughing.

"William, I do not quite understand thee. Hast thee cause to say this?"

"All I say, Patience, is--keep her out of the way of possible harm, of undesirable friendships. Were Anna to be drawn into a liking for Herbert Dare, I am sure it would not be agreeable to Mr. Lynn. He would never consider the Dares a desirable family for her to marry into----"

"Marry into the family of the Dares!" interrupted Patience hotly. "Art thee losing thy senses, William?"

"These likings sometimes lead to marriage," quietly continued William.

"Therefore, I say, keep her away from all chance of forming them.

Believe me, my advice is good."

"I think I understand," concluded Patience. "I thank thee kindly, William."

CHAPTER XXIV.

ANNA'S EXCUSE.

A very unpleasant part of the story has now to be touched upon.

Unpleasant things occur in real life, and if true pictures have to be given of the world as it exists, as it goes on its round, day by day, allusion to them cannot be wholly avoided.