Out in the Forty-Five Part 41

"I don't believe you have," said I. "But tell me one thing, Emily: are they scheming to make Hatty marry Mr Crossland?"

"Most certainly not!" cried Amelia, with more warmth than I had thought was in her. "Impossible! Why, Mr Crossland is engaged to Marianne Newton."

"Is Miss Marianne Newton a friend of yours?"

"Yes, the dearest friend I have."

"Then you will be on my side. Keep your eyes and ears open, and find out what it is. I tell you, something is wrong. Put yourself in the breach; help Miss Marianne, if you like; but, for pity's sake, save Hatty!"

"But what makes you suppose that what is wrong has anything to do with Mr Crossland?"

"I do not know why I fancy it; but I do. I cannot let the idea go. I do not like the look of him. He does not look like a true man."

"Cary, you have grown up since you came to London."

"I feel like somebody's grandmother," said I. "But I think I have been growing; to it, Amelia, since I left Brocklebank."

"Well, you certainly are much less of a child than you were. I will do my best, Cary." And Amelia looked as if she meant it.

"But take no one into your confidence," said I.--"Least of all Charlotte."

"Thank you, I don't need that warning!" said Amelia, with her languid laugh, as she furled her fan and turned away. And as I pa.s.sed on the other side I came upon Ephraim Hebblethwaite.

All at once my resolution was taken.

"Come this way, Ephraim," said I; "I want to show you my Uncle Charles's new engravings."

I lifted down the large portfolio, with Ephraim's help,--I don't think Ephraim would let a cat jump down by itself if he thought the jump too far,--set it on a little table, and under cover of the engravings I told him the whole story, and all my uneasiness about Hatty. He listened very attentively, but without showing either the surprise or the perplexity which Amelia had done.

"If you suspect rightly," said he, when I had finished my tale, "the first thing to be done is to get her out of Charles Street."

"Do you think me too ready to suspect?" I replied.

"No," was his answer; "I am afraid you are right."

"But what do they want to do with her, or to her?" cried I, under my breath.

"Cary," said Ephraim, gravely, "I am very glad you have told me this. I will go so far as to tell you in return that I too have my suspicions of young Crossland, though they are of rather a different kind from yours.

You suspect him, so far as I understand you, of matrimonial designs on Hatty, real or feigned. I am afraid rather that these appearances are a blind to hide something deeper and worse. I know something of this man, not enough to let me speak with certainty, but just sufficient to make me doubt him, and to guide me in what direction to look. We must walk carefully on this path, for if I mistake not, the ground is strewn with snares."

"What do you mean?" I cried, feeling terrified.

"I would rather not tell you till I know more. I will try to do that as soon as possible."

"I never thought of anything worse," said I, "than that knowing, as he is likely to do, that Hatty will some day have a few hundreds a year of her own, he is trying to inveigle her to marry him, and is not a man likely to be kind to her and make her happy."

"He is certainly likely to make her very unhappy," replied Ephraim.

"But I do not believe that he has any intentions of marriage, towards Hatty or anybody else."

"But don't you think he may make her think so? Amelia told me he was engaged in marriage with a gentlewoman she knows."

"I am sorry for the gentlewoman. Make her think so? Yes, and under cover of that, work out his plot. I would advise Miss Bracewell to beware that she is not made a catspaw."

I told Ephraim what I had said to Amelia.

"Then she is put on her guard: so far, well."

"Ephraim, have you heard anything more of Angus?"

"Nothing but what you know already."

"Nor, I suppose, of Colonel Keith? I wish I knew what he is doing."

"He has not had much chance of doing anything yet," said Ephraim, rather drily. "A sick-bed is not the most favourable place for helping one's friends out of prison."

"Has Colonel Keith been ill?" cried I.

"Mr Raymond did not tell you?"

"He never told me a word. I do not know what he may have said to Annas."

"A broken arm, and a fever on the top of it," said Ephraim. "The doctor talks of letting him go out to-morrow, if the weather suit."

"O Ephraim!" cried I. "But where is he?"

"Don't tell any one, if I tell you. Remember, Colonel Keith is a proscribed man."

"I will do no harm to Annas's brother, trust me!" said I.

"He is at Raymond's house, where he and I have been nursing him."

"In a fever!"

"Oh, it is not a catching fever. Think you either of us would have come here if it were?"

"Ephraim, is Mr Raymond to be trusted?" said I. "I am sure he is a good man, but he is a shocking Whig. And I do believe one of the queerest things in this queer world is the odd notions that men take of what it is their duty to do."

"Have you found that out?" said he, looking much diverted.

"I am always finding things out," I answered. "I had no idea there was so much to be found. But, don't you see, Mr Raymond might fancy it his duty to betray Colonel Keith? Is there no danger?"

"Not the slightest," said Ephraim, warmly. "Mr Raymond would be much more likely to give up his own life. Don't you know, Cary, that Scripture forbids us to betray a fugitive? And all the n.o.blest instincts of human nature forbid it too."

"I know all one's feelings are against it," said I, "but I did not know that there was anything about it in the Bible."

"Look in the twenty-third of Deuteronomy," replied Ephraim, "the fifteenth verse. The pa.s.sage itself refers to a slave, but it must be equally applicable to a political fugitive."

"I will look," I answered. "But tell me, Ephraim, can nothing be done for Angus?"