CHAPTER SEVEN.
READY FOR THE HEIR.
"There, Miss Gertrude," said Mrs Denton, carefully pinning the whiteapron she had rolled up to guard against its falling open--the apron shehad been wearing for a fortnight, "I don't like to boast, but I think Imay say that The Mynns never looked cleaner since it was a house."
"Never, Denton."
"And I've had my work to do, my dear, for servants will be servants.They're paid so much a year, and they reckon how much they ought to dofor the money, and when they've done that it's hard to get them tomove."
"Well, Denton," said Gertrude, smiling, "is it not natural?"
"Natural enough, my dear, if you'll excuse me calling you so now you'rea grown young lady; but we don't go by nature in service. I like to seeservants take a pride in their work, and the place they're in. I do,and I always try to make the place look better when there's no one towatch me."
"You're a dear, good old soul, Denton, and I hope we may never part."
"Till the last, miss, and the last comes to us all as it did to poordear master. Forty years was I with him, my dear; and it don't seemlike forty weeks. Any news, my dear?"
"No, Denton," said Gertrude, flushing slightly now.
"Well, he might have written if he has got the news, and said when youmight expect him. It isn't as if Mr Hampton hadn't telegraphed out.And it does seem so strange. Six weeks since poor master died, and noletter. You'd be glad to hear, miss, wouldn't you?"
"I--I--yes--I don't know, Denton."
"Ah well, natural enough, my dear, when you don't know what he's like,and he's to be your husband. I hope he'll turn out all poor master saidabout him, and make you very happy, my dear. I remember well when hispoor father and mother brought him here before they sailed for America.Sad, restless gentleman, his poor father, wanting to go to foreigncountries, to find gold when master used to tell him that there was moregold to be dug out of people's pockets than ever he'd find out there.Don't you think, my dear, that we might begin putting flowers now inyoung master's room?"
"Yes, Denton, do," cried Gertrude quickly. "He may not come for daysyet, but you could renew them."
"I mean for you to put them, my dear."
"I?"
"Yes. There, don't blush, my pretty," said the old woman, smilingaffectionately. "He's to be your husband, you know, and I can see whatyou mean; you don't want him to think you forward and pressing for it.Quite right, my child, but this is a particular case as we may say."
There was a double-knock and a sharp ring, and Bruno gave token of hispresence by starting out from under the table and uttering a fierce bay.
"Down, Bruno, down!" cried Gertrude, colouring deeply and then turningpale.
"That's a strange knock, Miss Gertrude. Perhaps it's Mr George."
They stood listening in the drawing-room; the old woman, in her whitecrape cap, looking flushed and excited, and Gertrude, in her unrelievedblack dress, white--even sallow--with excitement.
"What will he think of poor little insignificant me?" she said toherself; and her heart beat more and more heavily as steps were heard inthe hall; then their dull sound on the carpet, the door handle rattled,and Saul Harrington marched in unannounced.
"Ah, Gertie," he cried with boisterous familiarity. "How do, Denton?Here, keep that dog back or I shall kill him."
"Lie down, Bruno?" said Gertrude.
"Send him out of the room."
"He will be quite quiet now," replied Gertrude, who longed to tell theold housekeeper to stop in the room, but dared not make so great aconfession of her dread of the visitor.
"Oh, very well," said Saul carelessly. "As long as he does not try toeat me, I don't mind. Hah! gone," he continued with a satisfied smile;"now we can have a chat."
"You wished to speak to me, Mr Harrington?" said Gertrude, trying hardnot to show her agitation.
"Only dropped in to see how you were, and to ask the news. Well, is mybeloved relative on his way yet? When do you expect him?"
"We have not heard from Mr George Harrington yet."
"You will open his letter, I suppose, when it comes for the old man?"
"I shall pass it on to the executors."
"Pooh! we could read it. I say we, as I am so near a relative; but markmy words, Gertie, he'll never come back. There, don't cry. You neverknew him, and don't want to know him I'll be sworn. Gertie, it's asgood as certain that he is dead, for the old man had not heard from himfor quite a year, I know, and out there a man's life isn't worth much.Come, let's see if you and I can't have a little sensible talk."
Gertrude glanced uneasily at the door, and wondered whether Mrs Dentonwas near. Then she heard a sigh come from beneath the table, and feltcomforted, for there was help at hand.
Saul laughed as he interpreted her looks rightly.
"What a silly little bird it is," he said banteringly, "pretending to beafraid of me on purpose to lead me on. There, I apologise for being sorough that day. I ought to have approached you more gently, but it isyour fault--you are so pretty and enticing. Why, what a terrible look!"
"I have no right to forbid you this house, Mr Harrington," saidGertrude coldly, "but I must beg of you not to refer to that terribleday again. I cannot bear it."
"Stuff!"
"I cannot keep back the feeling that your presence shortened my pooruncle's life."
"You're a little goose, Gertie," said Saul contemptuously. "The old manthrew himself into a passion about nothing, and he paid the penalty."
Gertrude shook her head as she took up some work so as to avoid lookingat the man lolling before her in an easy-chair.
"Why, you little sceptic," cried Saul laughingly. "It was a foregoneconclusion that he would pop off some day in a fit of temper--becausethere were no coals in the scuttle, or his beef-tea was too hot. Ihappened to be there, and you blame me. That's all."
"Pray say no more."
"All light, I will not. Always ready to obey you, Gertie, because Iwant to show you that I really love you very dearly."
Gertrude gave a hurried glance at the door, remembered the dog, and grewcalm.
"I'm not going to frighten you, Gertie," continued Saul, "but I want forus to understand our position. Never mind what the executors or any oneelse says, George Harrington is not coming back. He's dead or he wouldhave been here."
"He has not had time yet. He was in the West--Far West, last time myuncle heard."
"I don't care if he was in the much farther West. Letters would havereached him, and he would have known that his grandfather was dead, andif he had known it, do you think the man is living who would not haverushed over to secure this property?"
Gertrude felt her heart sink. Not many minutes before she had felt adread of meeting George Harrington; now that there was a possibility ofSaul's words being true, a curious feeling of sorrow attacked her, andshe felt that she would give anything for the man, whose praises the oldman had sung, to take her by the hand.
"Well, you might talk," continued Saul. "I'm not going to bother you,nor to hurry things. I know I'm right. There is no George Harrington,and you are going to be my wife."
"No, no," cried Gertrude hastily.
"And I say yes, yes, so don't be silly. Better than being married to aman you have never seen--some whiskey-drinking, loafing rowdy from theStates, who would have ill-used you, degraded you, spent every penny theold man left, and then gone back to America, and left you to starve, ifyou were not already dead of a broken heart."
Gertrude listened in silence, wondering at the strange feeling ofindignation within her, and the desire to take up the cudgels on GeorgeHarrington's behalf.
"There, I'm speaking strongly," said Saul, changing his tone, "because,of course, I feel strongly. You have always hung back from me, Gertie,because you did not thoroughly know me. But you are beginning to knowme better, and I am going to wait patiently till you lay your hand inmine, and say, `Saul, dear, I am yours.'"
Ger
tie started, and looked at her visitor with lips apart, dazed at theconfident way in which he prophesied of the future.
Saul noted it, and smiled to himself.
"It's easy enough," he said to himself. "Only got to let 'em feel thecurb, and they give in directly."
"Patience is the thing, Gertie, dear," he continued aloud. "I supposeit will have to be a year first. There's all that executor business togo through, and the law will be precious slow, of course, about givingup the property to the rightful heir. I'm the rightful heir, Gertie,there's no mistake about that, and I think I'm behaving very fairlyabout you. It's plain enough, now, that I didn't come after you onaccount of your prospects, isn't it?"
He rose as he spoke with a peculiar smile on his face, and made twoquick steps across to where Gertrude was seated.
Her first thought was to spring up and make for the door, but, by astrong effort of will, she mastered herself and sat perfectly rigid inher seat, meeting his eyes without flinching, with the effect ofdisconcerting him, for he stopped short, and began tapping the crown ofhis hat. Had she tried to escape, he would have caught her in his arms.
"That's better," he said, after an awkward pause. "I like that. You'regetting used to me, Gertie, and I tell you what, my girl, it will be afine thing for you. Do you now what you ought to do if you are theclever girl I think you to be?"
She shook her head. She dared not trust herself to speak, lest heshould note the tremble in her voice.
"Make sure of me while you can. Not many girls have the chance of sucha rich husband."
"If he would only go," thought Gertrude, fighting hard with thehysterical feeling which threatened to break forth in a fit of sobbing.
For she was moved more than she knew. She had grown to expect, as apart of her life, that she should marry the frank-hearted man whosepraise her guardian had constantly sung. She did not love him, butthere was the germ of love in her breast waiting to be warmed into lifeand burst forth as a blossom, while now, speaking quite with the voiceof authority, Saul Harrington had come at the end of her weeks ofpatient watching and expectation, to announce brutally his fullconviction of her betrothed's death. Her heart sank lower and lower, asshe felt how probable his words were, and how likely it was that GeorgeHarrington had fallen a victim to climate or accident, or in someencounter, leaving her helpless and alone, at the mercy of a man whowould lord it in his place, and who openly avowed his intention ofmaking her his wife--another name for what would prove to be his slave.
"Well, Gertie," he said at last, after terrifying the poor girl by hismanner, "I sha'n't ask you to keep me to dinner to-day. Next time Icome you will, won't you?"
She looked up in his face with her eyes wild with horror and perplexity.What should she do--what could she say? She felt now that she must endher position at The Mynns by making an appeal to Doctor Lawrence or MrHampton, and she blamed herself for not doing so sooner. But thesethoughts did not help her now, and she remained silent.
"Silence gives consent," said Saul, laughing meaningly, as he passed hisstick into the hand which held his hat, and held out his right. "I mustbe going now. Good-bye, Gertie."
She rose at this, and, with a feeling of relief, held out her hand.
"Ah, that's better," he said, as he took it; and before the poor girlcould realise her position, he had snatched her to his breast, droppinghat and stick to have both hands free.
"Mr Saul!"
"My darling little girl! The devil!"
The last words were accompanied by a yell of pain and horror, as heliterally flung Gertrude from him, and made for the door.
For there had been no warning. Unknown to Saul, and forgotten in heragitation by Gertrude, Bruno had been lying beneath the table unseen,but seeing all, till what had seemed to his dumb brute mind a cowardlyattack upon his mistress, when, with one quick swing round of his head,he caught Saul by the ankle, held on for a moment, and then stood beforeGertrude, uttering a low fierce growl.
"That settles it," said Saul, trying to recover his equanimity, butspeaking in a low voice full of fury. "I don't want to be hard on you,Gertie, but if that dog is here next time I come, I'll poison him, assure as he is alive. I'm master now, and--"
He stopped short, for the old housekeeper entered the room with a card,the ring at the front door and the answering footsteps having passedunnoticed in the drawing-room.
"For me, Denton?" cried Gertie, eagerly running to the old woman, andclinging to her arm.
"He asked for master, miss," whispered the old woman. "He did not know.In the dining-room, miss. It's Master George."
A mist seemed to float before Gertrude's eyes, but not before she hadread upon the card the name:
"Mr George Harrington."