The Vicar's People Part 68

The vicar hesitated, and the colour came into his pale cheeks.

"I want to see him particularly, Mr Penwynn."

"May I ask why?"

"I think you know why, Mr Penwynn. There's a terrible report about the mine. Is it true?"

"Too true," said the banker, coldly. "And you have come to try and rise upon his fall," he added to himself.

"Poor Trethick!" exclaimed the vicar; "and he was so elate and proud of his success. He is a brave fellow, Mr Penwynn."

"Indeed," said the banker, sarcastically. "Come, Mr Lee, suppose you are frank with me. What of that other report?"

"It is a scandal--a cruel invention," exclaimed the vicar. "I cannot, I will not believe it. For heaven's sake keep it from Miss Penwynn's ears."

The banker turned upon him sharply.

"Why?" he said, abruptly.

"Why?" exclaimed the young vicar, flushing. "Mr Penwynn, can you ask me that?"

"Mr Lee," said the banker, "I'd give a thousand pounds down to believe as you do. I have been waiting here all the morning for Mr Trethick to come to me--to bring me, as he should, the bad news of the flooding of the mine, and, if it is necessary, to defend himself against this charge that is brought against him; and he does not come. What am I to think?"

"Think him innocent, Mr Penwynn. I for one cannot believe such a charge to be true. But here is Mr Trethick," he cried, as a hasty step was heard upon the gravel, and, without waiting to be announced, Geoffrey walked straight in.

The vicar started at his appearance, for he was haggard and his eyes red. He had evidently not been to bed all night, and his clothes were dusty and covered with red earth. There was a curious excited look, too, about his face, as he stared from one to the other, and then said, hoa.r.s.ely,--

"Ruin, Mr Penwynn; the mine is drowned."

"So I heard, Mr Trethick, before I was up," said the banker, coldly.

"I sat by the furnace-fire all night," said Geoffrey, in the same low, hoa.r.s.e voice, "trying to think it out, for I know--I'll swear this is the work of some scoundrel; and if I can prove it--"

He did not finish, but stood with his fists clenched looking from one to the other.

"I've been asleep," he said, "and I'm not half awake yet. I felt half-mad this morning. I drank some brandy to try and calm me, but it has made me worse."

"There is no doubt about that. We will talk about the mine some other time, Mr Trethick," said the banker. "Will you leave my house now?

You are not in a fit state to discuss matters."

"Fit state?" said Geoffrey. "Yes, I am in a fit state; but the accident has been almost maddening. No; it was no accident. I'll swear it has been done."

"Perhaps so," said the banker, calmly; "but will you return to your apartments now. I will send for you to-morrow."

"My apartments?" exclaimed Geoffrey, with a harsh laugh. "Where are they? I have none now. Mr Lee, will you give me your arm; my head swims. Take me down to Rumsey's place. I'm going wrong I think--or something--there was--little brandy in the--in the--what was I saying-- the men--bottle--furnace-house--I was--faint--Pengelly gave me--I--I-- can't see--is--is it night? Fetch--Rhoda. I--"

He sank heavily upon the floor, for it was as he said. He had remained watching by the dying furnace-fire the whole night, and then, heart-sick and faint, he had taken the little cup of brandy and water Pengelly handed to him, the remains of the bottle from which the two watchers had been drugged, and, little as he had taken, it had been enough to send him into a deep sleep, from which he had at last risen to hurry up to An Morlock--drunk, so the servants said.

"Disgracefully intoxicated!" Mr Penwynn declared.

The Reverend Edward Lee said nothing, but sighed deeply and went his way, and Rhoda Penwynn was fetched down by her father, who took her to the drawing-room door, and pointed to where Geoffrey lay upon the carpet.

"Your idol is broken, Rhoda," he said, in a low, stern voice. "We were both deceived."

"Oh, papa! is he ill?" cried Rhoda; and with all a woman's sympathy for one in distress, she forgot the report she had heard, and was about to make for Geoffrey's side.

"Ill as men are who make brute beasts of themselves, my child. Come away, my girl, and let him sleep it off. Rhoda, you can be brave, I know: so show your courage now."

She was ghastly pale, and she gazed from father to lover, hesitating whether she ought not to take Geoffrey's part against the whole world.

Heart triumphed, and s.n.a.t.c.hing away her hand as she was being led from the room,--

"I'll never believe it, father," she cried. "Oh, Geoffrey, Geoffrey, speak to me. Tell me what is wrong?"

She had sunk upon her knees and caught the prostrate man's hand in hers, with the effect that he roused himself a little, and slightly turned his head.

"Mine's drowned," he muttered. "Don't worry--that brandy."

"Yes, yes; but you will soon put that right."

"Put it right," he said, thickly. "No--sha'n't marry her--poor little Madge--I like little Madge--I'm sleepy, now."

Geoffrey's hand fell from Rhoda's heavily upon the thick carpet, and she shrank away from him as if stung. Then her head drooped, her face went down into her hands, and as Mr Penwynn stood watching her, she uttered a moan, rocking herself to and fro.

This lasted but a few minutes, and then a curiously-hard, stern look came over her pale face, as she slowly rose from her knees, and went and placed her hands in those of her father, looking him full in the eyes; and then, with the air of outraged womanhood lending a stern beauty to her face, she let him lead her to his study, where she sat with him, hardly speaking, till she heard it whispered that Mr Trethick had got up, and gone staggering out of the house.

"Where did he go?" said Mr Penwynn, quietly.

"Down to the hotel, sir."

"That will do."

Father glanced at daughter as soon as they were alone, when Rhoda left her seat and laid her hands upon his shoulder.

"I don't feel well, dear," she said. "I shall go up to my room. Don't expect to see me again to-day, father, and don't be uneasy. You are right, dear," she said, with her voice trembling for a moment; then, flinging her arms round his neck, she kissed him pa.s.sionately.

Mr Penwynn held her to his breast, and returned her kisses.

"It is very, very hard to bear, father. Oh, don't--don't you think we may be mistaken?"

"No," he said sternly; "I do not."

Rhoda heaved a bitter sigh, and then drew herself up, but bent down and kissed him once more.

"I'm your daughter, dear," she said, with a piteous smile; "but I'm going to be very brave. I shall be too proud to show every thing I feel."

She left the study and went up to her chamber, where she stood gazing from the window at the sunlit sea and glorious view of many-tinted rocks around the bay; but she could only see one thing now, and that was her broken idol as he had lain upon the floor below, and uttered the words, still burning in her ears, full of pity for "poor little Madge."