CHAPTER LV
Outside the door of the registry-office, Angela and her father had tomake their way through a crowd of small boys, who had by some means orother found out that a wedding was going on inside, and stood waitingthere, animated by the intention of cheering the bride and the certainhope of sixpences. But when they saw Angela, her stately form robed inblack, and her sweet face betraying the anguish of her mind, the sightshocked their sense of the fitness of things, and they slipped offwithout a word. Indeed, a butcher's boy, with a turn for expressivelanguage, remarked in indignation to another of his craft so soon asthey had recovered their spirits.
"Call that a weddin', Bill; why, it's more like a--funeral with theplumes off; and as for the gal, though she's a 'clipper,' her face wasas pale as a 'long 'un's.'"
Angela never quite knew how she got back to the Abbey House. She onlyremembered that she was by herself in the fly, her father preferringto travel on the box alone with the coachman. Nor could she ever quiteremember how she got through the remainder of that day. She was quitemazed. But at length it passed, and the night came, and she wasthankful for the night.
About nine o'clock she went up to her bedroom at the top of the house.It had served as a nursery for many generations of Caresfoots; indeed,during the last three centuries, hundreds of little feet had patteredover the old worm-eaten boards. But the little feet had long sincegone to dust, and the only signs of children's play and merriment leftabout the place were the numberless scratches, nicks, and letters cutin the old panelling, and even on the beams which supported the lowceiling.
It was a lonesome room for a young girl, or, indeed, for anybody whosenerves were not of the strongest. Nobody slept upon that floor or inthe rooms beneath it, Philip occupying a little closet which joinedhis study on the ground floor. All the other rooms were closed, andtenanted only by rats that made unearthly noises in their emptiness.As for Jakes and his wife, the only servants on the place, theyoccupied a room over the washhouse, which was separate from the mainbuilding. Angela was therefore practically alone in a great house, andmight have been murdered a dozen times over without the fact beingdiscovered for hours. This did not, however, trouble her much, simplybecause she paid no heed to the noises in the house, and wassingularly free from fear of any kind.
On reaching her room, she sat down and began to think of Arthur, and,as she thought, her mind grew clearer and more at peace. Indeed, itseemed to her that her dead lover was near, and as though she coulddistinguish pulsations of thought which came from him, impinging onher system, and bringing his presence with them. It is a commonsensation, and occurs to many people of sensitive organization whenasleep or thinking on some one with whom they are in a high state ofsympathy, and doubtless indicates some occult communication. But, asit chanced, it had never before visited Angela in this form, and sheabandoned herself to its influence with delight. It thrilled herthrough and through.
How long she sat thus she could not tell, but presently thecommunication, whatever it was, stopped as suddenly as though theconnecting link had been severed. The currents directed by her willwould no longer do her bidding; they could not find their object, or,frighted by some adverse influence, recoiled in confusion on herbrain. Several times she tried to renew this subtle intercourse thatwas so palpable and real, and yet so different from anything else inthe world, but failed. Then she rose, feeling very tired, for thosewho thus draw upon the vital energies must pay the penalty ofexhaustion. She took her Bible and read her nightly chapter, and thenundressed and said her prayers, praying with unusual earnestness thatit might please the Almighty in His wisdom to take her to where herlover was. Her prayers done, she rose, put on a white dressingwrapper, and, seating herself before the glass, unloosed her hair.Then she began to brush it, pausing presently to think how Arthur hadadmired its colour and the ripples on it. She had been much morecareful of her hair since then, and smiled sadly to herself at herfolly for being so.
Thinking thus, she fell into a reverie, and sat so still that a greatgrey rat came noiselessly out of his hole in a corner of the room,and, advancing into the circle of light round the dressing-table, satup on his hind legs to see if he was alone. Suddenly he turned andscuttled back to his hole in evident alarm, and at the same secondAngela thought that she heard a sound of a different character fromthose she was accustomed to in the old house--a sound like thecreaking of a boot. It passed, however, but left an indefinable dreadcreeping over her, and chilling the blood in her veins. She began toexpect something, she knew not what, and was fascinated by theexpectation. She would have risen to lock the door, but all strengthseemed to have left her; she was paralysed by the near sense of evil.Then came a silence as intense as it was lonely.
It was a ghastly moment.
Her back was towards the doorway, for her dressing-table wasimmediately opposite the door, which was raised some four feet abovethe level of the landing, and approached by as many steps.
Gradually her eyes became riveted on the glass before her, for in itshe thought that she saw the door move. Next second, she was sure thatit _was_ moving, very slowly; the hinges took an age to turn. Whatcould be behind it? At last it was open, and in the glass Angela sawframed in darkness _the head and shoulders of George Caresfoot_. Atfirst she believed that her mind deceived her, that it was anapparition. No, there was no mistake. But the respirator, the hollowcough and decrepitude of the morning--where were they?
With horror in her heart, she turned and faced him. Seeing that he wasobserved, he staggered into the room with a step which was halfdrunken and half jaunty, but which belied the conflict of passionswritten on his brow. He spoke--his voice sounded hoarse and hollow,and was ill-tuned to his words.
"You did not expect me perhaps--wonder how I got here! Jakes let mein; he has got a proper respect for marital rights, has Jakes. Youlooked so pretty, I could not make up my mind to disturb you. Quite aromantic meeting, is it not?"
"You are a dying man. How did you come here?"
"Dying! my dear wife; not a bit of it. I am no more dying than youare. I have been ill, it is true, but that is only because you havefretted me so. The dying was only a little ruse to get your consent.All is fair in love and war, you know; and of course you never reallybelieved in that precious agreement. That was nothing but a bit ofmaidenly shyness, eh?"
Angela stood still as a stone, a look of horror on her face.
"Then you don't know what you have cost me. Your father's price was ahundred and fifty thousand, at least that is what it came to, the oldshark! It isn't every man who would come down like for a girl, now isit? It shows a generous mind, doesn't it?"
Still she uttered not a syllable.
"Angela," he said, changing his tone to one of hoarse earnestness,"don't look at me like that, because, even if you are a bit put out atthe trick I have played you, just think it was because I loved you somuch, Angela. I couldn't help it, I couldn't really. It is not everyman who would go through all that I have gone through for you; it isno joke to sham consumption for three months, I can tell you; but wewill have many a laugh over that. Why don't you answer me, instead ofstanding there just like the Andromeda in my study?"
The simile was an apt one, the statue of the girl awaiting her awfulfate wore the same hopeless, helpless look of vacant terror which wasupon Angela's face now. But its mention recalled Lady Bellamy and theominous incident in which that statue had figured, and he hastened todrown recollection in action.
"Come," he said, "you will forgive me, won't you? It was all done forlove of you." And he moved towards her.
As he came she seemed to collect her energies; the fear left her face,and in its stead there shone a great and awful blaze of indignation.
Her brush was still in her hand, and as he drew near she dashed itfull into his face. It was but a light thing, and only staggered him,but it gave her time to pass him, and reach the still open door. Bare-footed, she fled like the wind down the passages, and down the stairs.Utt
ering an oath, he followed her. But, as she went, she rememberedthat she could not run upon the gravel with her naked feet, and, withthis in her mind, she turned to bay by a large window that gave lightto the first-floor landing, immediately opposite which was theportrait of "Devil" Caresfoot. It was unbolted, and with a singlemovement of the hand she flung it open, and stood panting by it in thefull light of the moon. In another moment he was upon her, furious atthe blow, and his face contorted with passion.
"Stop," she cried, "and listen to me. Before I will allow you to touchme with a single finger, I will spring from here. I would ratherthrust myself into the hands of Providence than into yours, monsterand perjured liar that you are!"
He stopped as she bade him, and commenced to pace round and round herin a semicircle, glaring at her with wild eyes.
"If you jump from there," he said, "you will only break your limbs; itis not high enough to kill you. You are my wife, don't you understand?You are my legal wife, the law is on my side. No one can help you, noone; you are mine in the sight of the whole world."
"But not yours in the sight of God. It is to Him that I now appeal.Get back!"
She stretched out her arm, and with her golden hair glimmering in themoonlight, her white robes, and the anger on her face, looked likesome avenging angel driving a fiend to hell. He shrank away from her,and there came a pause, and, save for their heavy breathing, stillnessagain fell upon the house, whilst the picture that hung above themseemed, in the half light, to follow them with its fierce eyes, asthough it were a living thing.
The landing where they stood looked upon the hall below, at the end ofwhich was Philip's study. Suddenly its door burst open, and Philiphimself passed through it, grasping a candlestick in one hand and someparchments in the other. His features were dreadful to see, resemblingthose of a dumb thing in torture; his eyes protruded, his livid lipsmoved, but no sound came from them. He staggered across the hall withterror staring from his face.
"Father, father," called Angela; but he took no notice--he did noteven seem to hear.
Presently they heard the candlestick thrown with a clash upon the hallpavement, then the front door slammed, and he was gone, and at thatmoment a great ruddy glow shot up the western sky, then a tongue offlame, then another and another.
"See," said Angela, with a solemn laugh, "I did not appeal for help invain."
Isleworth Hall was in flames.