CHAPTER XXXVII
Angela's appeal for protection set Philip thinking.
As the reader is aware, his sole motive in consenting to become, as itwere, a sleeping partner in the shameful plot, of which his innocentdaughter was the object, was to obtain possession of his lostinheritance, and it now occurred to him that even should that plotsucceed, which he very greatly doubted, nothing had as yet beensettled as to the terms upon which it was to be reconveyed to him. Thewhole affair was excessively repugnant to him: indeed, he regarded theprospect of its success with little less than terror, only his greedover-mastered his fear.
But on one point he was very clear: it should not succeed except uponthe very best of terms for himself, his daughter should not besacrificed unless the price paid for the victim was positivelyprincely, such guilt was not to be incurred for a bagatelle. If Georgemarried Angela, the Isleworth estates must pass back into his handsfor a very low sum indeed. But would his cousin be willing to acceptsuch a sum? That was the rub, and that, too, was what must be madeclear without any further delay. He had no wish to see Angela put toneedless suffering, suffering which would not bring an equivalent withit, and which might, on the contrary, entail consequences upon himselfthat he shuddered to think of.
Curiously enough, however, he had of late been signally free from hissuperstitious fears; indeed, since the night when he had so astonishedArthur by his outbreak about the shadows on the wall, no fit had cometo trouble him, and he was beginning to look upon the whole thing asan evil dream, a nightmare that he had at last lived down. But stillthe nightmare might return, and he was not going to run the riskunless he was very well paid for it. And so he determined to offer aprice so low for the property that no man in his senses would acceptit, and then wrote a note to George asking him to come over on thefollowing evening after dinner, as he wished to speak to him on amatter of business.
"There," he said to himself, "that will make an end of the affair, andI will get young Heigham back and they can be married. George cannever take what I mean to offer; if he should, the Egyptian will bespoiled indeed, and the game will be worth the candle. Not that I haveany responsibility about it, however; I shall put no pressure onAngela, she must choose for herself." And Philip went to bed, quitefeeling as though he had done a virtuous action.
George came punctually enough on the following evening, which was thatof the day of Lady Bellamy's conversation with Angela, a conversationwhich had so upset the latter that she had already gone to her room,not knowing anything of her cousin's proposed visit.
The night was one of those dreadfully oppressive ones that sometimesvisit us in the course of an English summer. The day had been hot andsultry, and with the fall of the evening the little breeze thatstirred in the thunder-laden air had died away, leaving thetemperature at much the same point that is to be expected in atropical valley, and rendering the heat of the house almostunbearable.
"How do you do, George?" said Philip. "Hot, isn't it?"
"Yes, there will be a tempest soon."
"Not before midnight, I think. Shall we go and walk down by the lake,it will be cooler there, and we shall be quite undisturbed? Walls haveears sometimes, you know."
"Very well; but where is Angela?"
"I met her on the stairs just now, and she said that she was going tobed--got a headache, I believe. Shall we start?"
So soon as they were well away from the house, Philip broke the ice.
"Some months back, I had a conversation with Lady Bellamy on thesubject of a proposal that you made to me through her for Angela'shand. It is about that I wish to speak to you now. First, I must askif you still wish to go on with the business?"
"Certainly, I wish it more than ever."
"Well, as I intimated to Lady Bellamy, I do not at all approve of yoursuit. Angela is already, subject to my consent, very suitably engagedto your late ward, a young fellow whom, whatever you may think abouthim, I like very much; and I can assure you that it will require thevery strongest inducements to make me even allow such a thing. In anycase, I will have nothing to do with influencing Angela; she is aperfectly free agent."
"Which means, I suppose, that you intend to screw down the price?"
"In wanting to marry Angela," went on Philip, "you must remember thatyou fly high. She is a very lovely woman, and, what is more, will someday or other be exceedingly well off, whilst you--you must excuse mefor being candid, but this is a mere matter of business, and I am onlytalking of you in the light of a possible son-in-law--you are amiddle-aged man, not prepossessing in appearance, broken in health,and, however well you may have kept up your reputation in these parts,as you and I well know, without a single shred of character left;altogether not a man to who a father would marry his daughter of hisown free will, or one with whom a young girl is likely to findhappiness."
"You draw a flattering picture of me, I must say."
"Not at all, only a true one."
"Well, if I am all you say, how is it that you are prepared to allowyour daughter to marry me at all?"
"I will tell you; because the rights of property should takeprecedence of the interests of a single individual. Because my fatherand you between you cozened me out of my lawful own, and this is theonly way that I see of coming by it again."
"What does it matter? in any case after your death the land will comeback to Angela and her children."
"No, George, it will not; if ever the Isleworth estates come into myhands, they shall not pass again to any child of yours."
"What would you do with them, then?"
"Marry, and get children of my own."
George whistled.
"Well, I must say that your intentions are amiable, but you have notgot the estates yet, my dear cousin."
"No, and never shall have, most likely; but let us come to the point.Although I do not approve of your advances, I am willing to waive myobjections and accept you as a son-in-law, if you can win Angela'sconsent, provided that before the marriage you consent to give meclear transfer, at a price, of all the Isleworth estates, with theexception of the mansion and the pleasure-grounds."
"Very good; but now about the price. That is the real point."
They had taken a path that ran down through the shrubberies to theside of the lake, and then turned up towards Caresfoot's Staff. Beforeanswering George's remark, Philip proposed that they should sit down,and, suiting the action to the word, placed himself upon the trunk ofa fallen tree that lay by the water's edge, just outside the spread ofthe branches of the great oak, and commanding a view of the areabeneath them.
"The moon will come out again presently," he said, when George hadfollowed his example. "She has got behind that thunder-cloud. Ah!" asa bright flash of lightning passed from heaven to earth, "I thoughtthat we should get a storm; it will be here in half an hour."
All this Philip said to gain time; he had not quite made up his mindwhat price to offer.
"Never mind the lightning. What do you offer for the property,inclusive of timber, and with all improvements--just as it stands, inshort."
"One hundred thousand pounds cash," said Philip, deliberately.
George sprang from his seat, and sat down again before he answered.
"Do you think that I am drunk, or a fool, that you come to me withsuch a ridiculous offer? Why, the probate valuation was two hundredthousand, and that was very low."
"I offer one hundred thousand, and am willing to settle thirtythousand absolutely on the girl should she marry you, and twentythousand more on my death. That is my offer--take it, or leave it."
"Talk sense, man; your terms are preposterous."
"I tell you that, preposterous or not, I will not go beyond them. Ifyou don't like them, well and good, leave them alone, and I'll putmyself in communication with young Heigham to-morrow, and tell himthat he can come and marry the girl as soon as he likes. For my part,I am very glad to have the business settled."
"You ask me to sacrifice half
my property," groaned George.
"My property, you mean, that you stole. But I don't ask you to doanything one way or the other. I am to understand that you refuse myoffer?"
"Give me a minute to think," and George hid his face in his hand, andPhilip, looking at him with hatred gleaming in his dark eyes, mutteredbetween his teeth,
"I believe that my turn has come at last."
When some thirty seconds had passed in silence, the attention of thepair was attracted by the cracking of dead leaves that sounded quitestartling in the intense stillness of the night, and next second atall figure in white glided up to the water's edge, and stood stillwithin half a dozen paces of them.
Involuntarily Philip gripped his cousin's arm, but neither of themmoved. The sky had rapidly clouded up, and the faint light thatstruggled from the moon only served to show that the figure appearedto be lifting its arms. In another second that was gone too, and theplace was totally dark.
"Wait till the moon comes out, and we shall see what it is," whisperedGeorge, and, as he spoke, there came from the direction of the figurea rustling sound as of falling garments.
"What can it be?" whispered Philip.
They were not left long in doubt, for at that instant a vivid flashfrom the thunder-cloud turned the darkness into the most brilliantday, and revealed a woman standing up to her knees in the water, withher arms lifted, knotting her long hair. It was Angela. For one momentthe fierce light shone upon the stately form that gleamed whiter thanivory--white as snow against the dense background of the brushwood,and, as it passed, they heard her sink into the water softly as aswan, and strike out with steady strokes towards the centre of thelake.
"It is only Angela," said Philip, when the sound of the strokes grewfaint. "Phew! what a state she gave me."
"Is she safe?" asked George, in a husky voice. "Hadn't I better get aboat?"
"She needs no help from you, she is quite capable of looking afterherself, especially in the water, I can tell you," Philip answered,sharply.
Nothing more was said till they reached the house, when, on enteringthe lighted study, Philip noticed that his cousin's face was flushed,and his hands shaking like aspen leaves.
"Why, what is the matter with you, man?" he asked.
"Nothing--nothing. I am only rather cold. Give me some brandy."
"Cold on such a night as this? That's curious," said Philip, as he gotthe spirit from a cupboard.
George drank about a wine-glassful neat, and seemed to recoverhimself.
"I accept your offer for the land, Philip," he said, presently.
His cousin looked at him curiously, and a brilliant idea struck him.
"You agree, then, to take _fifty_ thousand pounds for the Isleworthestates in the event of your marrying my daughter, the sale to becompleted before the marriage takes place?"
"Fifty thousand! No, a hundred thousand--you said a hundred thousandjust now."
"You must have misunderstood me, or I must have made a mistake; what Imeant is _fifty thousand_, and you to put a thousand down as earnestmoney--to be forfeited whether the affair comes off or not."
George ground his teeth and clutched at his red hair, proceedings thathis cousin watched with a great deal of quiet enjoyment. When atlength he spoke, it was in a low, hoarse voice; quite unlike his usualhard tones:
"Damn you!" he said, "you have me at your mercy. Take the land for themoney, if you like, though it will nearly ruin me. That woman hasturned my head; I _must_ marry her, or I shall go mad."
"Very good; that is your affair. Remember that I have noresponsibility in the matter, and that I am not going to put anypressure on Angela. If you want to marry her, you must win her withinthe next eight months. Then that is settled. I suppose that you willpay in the thousand to-morrow. The storm is coming up fast, so I won'tkeep you. Good night," and they separated, George to drive home--withfever in his heart, and the thunderstorm, of which he heard nothing,rattling round him--and Philip to make his way to bed, with the dreamof his life advanced a step nearer realization.
"That was a lucky swim of Angela's to-night," he thought. "Fiftythousand pounds for the estate. He is right; he must be going mad. Butwill he get her to marry him, I wonder. If he does, I shall cry quitswith him, indeed."