CHAPTER THIRTY.
REVEALS SOME ASTONISHING FACTS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES.
Sorrow and trouble now began to descend upon Mr Thomas Donnithorne likea thick cloud.
Reduced from a state of affluence to one bordering on absolute poverty,the old man's naturally buoyant spirit almost gave way, and it neededall the attentions and the cheering influence of his good wife and sweetRose Ellis to keep him from going (as he often half-jestinglythreatened) to the end of Cape Cornwall and jumping into the sea.
"It's all over with me, Oliver," said he one morning, after the returnof his nephew from London. "A young fellow like you may face up againstsuch difficulties, but what is an old man to do? I can't begin theworld over again; and as for the shares I have in the various mines,they're not worth the paper they're writ upon."
"But things may take a turn," suggested Oliver; "this is not the firsttime the mines have been in a poor condition, and the price of tin low.When things get very bad they are likely to get better, you know. Evennow there seems to be some talk among the miners of an improved state ofthings. I met Maggot yesterday, and he was boasting of having found amonstrous bunch, which, according to him, is to be the making of all ourfortunes."
Mr Donnithorne shook his head.
"Maggot's geese are always swans," he said; "no, no, Oliver, I have lostall hope of improvement. There are so many of these deceptive minesaround us just now--some already gone down, and some going--that thepublic are losing confidence in us, and, somewhat unfairly, judgingthat, because a few among us are scoundrels, we are altogether a badlot."
"What do you think of Mr Clearemout's new mine?" asked Oliver.
"I believe it to be a genuine one," said the old gentleman, turning asomewhat sharp glance on his nephew. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I doubt it," replied Oliver.
"You are too sceptical," said Mr Donnithorne almost testily; "too muchgiven to judging things at first sight."
"Nay, uncle; you are unfair. Had I judged of you at first sight, Ishould have thought you a--"
"Well, what? a smuggling old brandy-loving rascal--eh? and not far wrongafter all."
"At all events," said Oliver, laughing, "I have lived to form a betteropinion of you than that. But, in reference to Clearemout, I cannotshut my eyes to the fact that the work doing at the new mine is verylike a sham, for they have only two men and a boy working her, with acaptain to superintend; and it is said, for I made inquiries while inLondon, that thirty thousand pounds have been called up from theshareholders, and there are several highly paid directors, with anoffice-staff in the City drawing large salaries."
"Nonsense, Oliver," said Mr Donnithorne more testily than before; "youknow very well that things must have a beginning, and that caution isnecessary at first in all speculations. Besides, I feel convinced thatMr Clearemout is a most respectable man, and an uncommonly cleverfellow to boot. It is quite plain that you don't like him--that's whatprejudices you, Oliver. You're jealous of the impression he has made onthe people here."
This last remark was made jestingly, but it caused the young doctor towince, having hit nearer the truth than the old gentleman had any ideaof, for although Oliver envied not the handsome stranger's popularity,he was, almost unknown to himself, very jealous of the impression heseemed to have made on Rose Ellis.
A feeling of shame induced him to change the subject of conversation,with a laughing observation that he hoped such an unworthy motive didnot influence him.
Now, while this conversation was going on in the parlour of MrDonnithorne's cottage, another dialogue was taking place in a smallwooden erection at the end of the garden, which bore the dignified nameof "Rose's Bower." The parties concerned in it were George AugustusClearemout and Rose Ellis.
A day or two previous to the conversation to which we are about to drawattention, the managing director had undergone a change in hissentiments and intentions. When he first saw Rose he thought her anuncommonly sweet and pretty girl. A short acquaintance with herconvinced him that she was even sweeter and prettier than at first hehad thought her. This, coupled with the discovery that her uncle wasvery rich, and that he meant to leave a large portion of his wealth, ifnot all of it, to Rose, decided Clearemout, and he resolved to marryher. Afterwards he became aware of the fact that old Mr Donnithornehad met with losses, but he was ignorant of their extent, and stilldeemed it worth while to carry out his intentions.
George Augustus had been a "managing director" in various ways from hisearliest infancy, and had never experienced much opposition to his will,so that he had acquired a habit of settling in his own mind whatever hemeant to do, and forthwith doing it. On this occasion he resolved tosacrifice himself to Rose, in consideration of her prospective fortune--cash being, of course, Mr Clearemout's god.
Great, then, was the managing director's surprise, and astonishing thecondition of his feelings, when, on venturing to express his wishes toRose, he was kindly, but firmly, rejected! Mr Clearemout was sothunderstruck--having construed the unsophisticated girl's candour andsimplicity of manner into direct encouragement--that he could make noreply, but, with a profound bow, retired hastily from her presence, wentto his lodgings, and sat down with his elbows on the table, and his faceburied in his large hands, the fingers of which appeared to be crushingin his forehead, as if to stifle the thoughts that burned there. Aftersitting thus for half an hour he suddenly rose, with his face somewhatpaler, and his lips a little more firmly compressed than usual.
It was an epoch in his existence. The man who had so often and sosuccessfully deceived others had made the wonderful discovery that hehad deceived himself. He had imagined that money was his sole object inwishing to marry Rose. He now discovered that love, or something likeit, had so much to do with his wishes that he resolved to have herwithout money, and also without her consent.
Something within the man told him that Rose's refusal was an unalterableone. He did not think it worth while to waste time in a second attempt.His plans, though hastily formed, required a good deal of preliminaryarrangement, so he commenced to carry them out with the singleexclamation, "I'll do it!" accompanied with a blow from his heavy fiston the table, which, being a weak lodging-house one, was split from endto end. But the managing director had a soul above furniture at thatmoment. He hastily put on his hat and strode out of the house.
Making good use of a good horse, he paid sundry mysterious visits tovarious smuggling characters, to all of whom he was particularlyagreeable and liberal in the bestowal of portions of the thirty thousandpounds with which a too confiding public had intrusted him. Among otherplaces, he went to a cottage on a moor between St. Just and Penzance,and had a confidential interview with a man named Hicks, who was notedfor his capacity to adapt himself to circumstances (when well paid)without being troubled by conscientious scruples. This man had a sonwho had once suffered from a broken collar-bone, and whose ears wereparticularly sharp. He chanced to overhear the conversation at theinterview referred to, and dutifully reported the same to his mother,who happened to be a great gossip, and knew much about the privateaffairs of nearly everybody living within six miles of her. The goodwoman resolved to make some use of her information, but Mr Clearemoutleft the cottage in ignorance, of course, of her resolution.
Having transacted these little pieces of business, the managing directorreturned home, and, on the day following, sought and obtained aninterview with Rose Ellis in her bower.
Recollecting the subject of their last conversation, Rose blushed, asmuch with indignation as confusion, at being intruded upon, but MrClearemout at once dispersed her angry feelings by assuring her in tonesof deferential urbanity that he would not have presumed to intrude uponher but for the fact that he was about to quit Cornwall without delay,and he wished to talk with her for only a few minutes on businessconnected with Mr Donnithorne.
There was something so manly and straightforward in his tone and mannerthat she could not choose but allow him to sit do
wn beside her, althoughshe did falter out something about the propriety of talking on heruncle's business affairs with Mr Donnithorne himself.
"Your observation is most just," said Mr Clearemout earnestly; "but youare aware that your uncle's nature is a delicate, sensitive one, and Ifeel that he would shrink from proposals coming from me, that he mightlisten to if made to him through you. I need not conceal from you, MissEllis, that I am acquainted with the losses which your uncle hasrecently sustained, and no one can appreciate more keenly than I do theharshness with which the world, in its ignorance of details, is apt tojudge of the circumstances which brought about this sad state of things.I cannot help feeling deeply the kindness which has been shown me byMr Donnithorne during my residence here, and I would, if I could, showhim some kindness in return."
Mr Clearemout paused here a few moments as if to reflect. He resolvedto assume that Mr Donnithorne's losses were ruinous, little imaginingthat in this assumption he was so very near the truth! Rose feltgrateful to him for the kind and delicate way in which he referred toher uncle's altered circumstances.
"Of course," continued the managing director, "I need not say to _you_,that his independent spirit would never permit him to accept ofassistance in the form which would be most immediately beneficial tohim. Indeed, I could not bring myself to offer money even as a loan.But it happens that I have the power, just now, of disposing of theshares which he has taken in Wheal Dooem Mine at a very large profit;and as my hope of the success of that enterprise is very small, I--"
"Very small!" echoed Rose in surprise. "You astonish me, MrClearemout. Did I not hear you, only a few nights ago, say that you hadthe utmost confidence in the success of your undertaking?"
"Most true," replied the managing director with a smile; "but in theworld of business a few hours work wonderful changes, sometimes, inone's opinion of things--witness the vacillations and variations `on'Change'--if I may venture to allude before a lady to such anincomprehensible subject."
Rose felt her vigorous little spirit rise, and she was about to return asmart reply in defence of woman's intelligence even in business matters,but the recollection of the altered relative position in which they nowstood restrained her.
"Yes," continued Mr Clearemout, with a sigh, "the confidence which Ifelt in Wheal Dooem has been much shaken of late, and the sooner youruncle sells out the better."
"But would it be right," said Rose earnestly, "to sell our shares at ahigh profit if things be as you say?"
"Quite right," replied Clearemout, with a bland smile of honesty; "_I_believe the mine to be a bad speculation; my friend, we shall suppose,believes it to be a good one. Believing as I do, I choose to sell out;believing as he does, he chooses to buy in. The simplest thing in theworld, Miss Ellis. Done every day with eyes open, I assure you; but itis not every day that a chance occurs so opportunely as the present, andI felt it to be a duty to give my friend the benefit of my knowledgebefore quitting this place--for ever!"
There was something so kind and touching in the tone of the managingdirector that Rose was quite drawn towards him, and felt as if she hadactually done him an unkindness in refusing him.
"But," continued her companion, "I can do nothing, Miss Ellis, withoutyour assistance."
"You shall have it," said Rose earnestly; "for I would do anything thata woman might venture, to benefit my dear, dear uncle, and I feelassured that you would not ask me to do anything wrong or unwomanly."
"I would not indeed," answered Clearemout with emotion; "but the worldis apt to misjudge in matters of delicacy. To ask you to meet me on thecliffs near Priest's Cove, close to Cape Cornwall, to-night, wouldappear wrong in the eyes of the world."
"And with justice," said Rose quickly, with a look of mingled dignityand surprise.
"Nevertheless, this is absolutely needful, if we would accomplish theobject in view. A friend, whom I know to be desirous of purchasingshares in the mine is to pass round the cape in his yacht this evening.The idea of offering these shares to him had not occurred to me when Iwrote to say that I would meet him there. He cannot come up here, Iknow, but the stroke of a pen, with one of the family to witness it,will be sufficient."
It was a bold stroke of fancy in the managing director to put the matterin such a ridiculously unbusinesslike light, but he counted much onRose's ignorance. As for poor Rose herself, she, knew not what to sayor do at first, but when Clearemout heaved a sigh, and, with anexpression of deep sadness on his countenance, rose to take leave, sheallowed a generous impulse to sway her.
"Your answer, then, is--No," said Clearemout, with deep pathos in histone.
Now, it chanced that at this critical point in the conversation, OliverTrembath, having left the cottage, walked over the grass towards a smallgate, near which the bower stood. He unavoidably heard the question,and also the quick, earnest reply,--"My answer, Mr Clearemout, is--Yes.I will meet you this evening on the cliff."
She frankly gave him her hand as she spoke, and he gallantly pressed itto his lips, an act which took Rose by surprise, and caused her to pullit away suddenly. She then turned and ran out at the side of the bowerto seek the solitude of her own apartment, while Clearemout left it bythe other side, and stood face to face with the spellbound Oliver.
To say that both gentlemen turned pale as their eyes met would not givean adequate idea of their appearance. Oliver's heart, as well as hisbody, when he heard the question and reply, stood still as if he hadbeen paralysed. This, then, he thought, was the end of all his hopes--hopes hardly admitted to himself, and never revealed to Rose, except inunstudied looks and tones. For a few moments his face grew absolutelylivid, while he glared at his rival.
On the other hand, Mr Clearemout, believing that the whole of hisconversation had been overheard, supposed that he had discovered all hisvillainy to one who was thoroughly able, as well as willing, to thwarthim. For a moment he felt an almost irresistible impulse to spring onand slay his enemy; his face became dark with suppressed emotion; and itis quite possible that in the fury of his disappointed malice he mighthave attempted violence,--had not Oliver spoken. His voice was husky ashe said,--"Chance, sir--unfortunate, miserable chance--led me tooverhear the last few words that passed between you and--"
He paused, unable to say more. Instantly the truth flashed acrossClearemout's quick mind. He drew himself up boldly, and the bloodreturned to his face as he replied,--"If so, sir, you cannot but beaware that the lady's choice is free, and that your aspect and attitudetowards me are unworthy of a gentleman."
A wonderful influence for weal or woe oft-times results from theselection of a phrase or a word. Had Clearemout charged Oliver withinsolence or presumption, he would certainly have struck him to theground; but the words "unworthy of a gentleman" created a revulsion inhis feelings. Thought is swifter than light. He saw himself in theposition of a disappointed man scowling on a successful rival who haddone him no injury.
"Thank you, Clearemout. Your rebuke is merited," he said bitterly; and,turning on his heel, he bounded over the low stone wall of the garden,and hastened away.
Whither he went he knew not. A fierce fire seemed to rage in his breastand burn in his brain. At first he walked at full speed, but as hecleared the town he ran--ran as he had never run before. For the timebeing he was absolutely mad. Over marsh and moor he sped, clearing allobstacles with a bound, and making straight for the Land's End, with nodefinite purpose in view, for, after a time, he appeared to change hisintention, if he had any. He turned sharp to the left, and ran straightto Penzance, never pausing in his mad career until he neared the town.The few labourers he chanced to pass on the way gazed after him insurprise, but he heeded not. At the cottage on the moor where he hadbandaged the shoulder of the little boy a woman's voice called loudly,anxiously after him, but he paid no attention. At last he came to afull stop, and, pressing both hands tightly over his forehead, made aterrible effort to collect his thoughts. He was partially successful,and, with somewhat of
his wonted composure, walked rapidly into thetown.