CHAPTER XXX.
BECKY'S REPLY TO HER LOVER'S STATEMENT.
MY DEAREST,--It is now very near morning, within an hour of the time Iam expected to rise. I have been up all night, and having read the storyof your life from beginning to end, have re-read some portions again andagain, so that they shall be fixed permanently in my mind. How I loveand pity you! To say, as you desire me to say, that my faith is notshaken, is but a poor expression of my feelings towards you. My faith isstrengthened, my love is strengthened, my hope is strengthened. Sittingin my little cupboard of a bedroom, with Fanny sleeping peacefully in mybed--yes, my dear, my poor little friend is with me again; I found her,the night before last, fainting for food at the street door ofNo. 119--sitting here, in the presence of that poor human waif, with mycandle nearly burnt out, and the dim light of morning just beginning todawn, it seems to me as if a star is shining upon me, instilling into myheart a wonderful faith and courage.
I am not tired, but that may be because of my excitement and exaltation.I intend to be careful and prudent. When the housework is done, I shalltake some rest. I might have a little now, but that I can turn mythoughts to nothing until I write to you what is in my mind. My faithis not shaken; I repeat it; and I add, let not your faith be shaken.Whatever occurs, do not for a moment doubt me, do not for a moment losefaith in me. You say that I must have been guided by a higher than ahuman impulse when I took the strange step of transforming myself into aservant-of-all-work, and seeking service with Mrs. Preedy, in the housenext to that in which your dear father was murdered. Do you remember mytelling you in my first letter that an inspiration had fallen upon mewhen I conceived the idea? And if at that time, before it was known whoit was who had been so mysteriously murdered, I believed my idea to bean inspiration, how much more reason have I to believe it now that theawful crime is brought so close to us and is woven into your life? Youdeclare that you will bring your father's murderer to justice, andyou ask me to help you. What answer can I make you? This. That allthat a woman's power, all that a woman's devotion, all that a woman'sself-sacrifice, can do to the end to which you have pledged yourself,shall be done by me. I can do much, more than you can imagine possible,if certain thoughts, created by what you have written, touch even theborder-land of truth. They do, I believe, and they will lead me to thefulfilment of what we both with all our hearts desire.
But you must be guided by me. For once in the way, let a woman takethe command, and let her prove herself capable. Not that you could notaccomplish what is necessary for our happiness, and in the cause oftruth and justice, a great deal better than I. But your hands are notfree; you cannot move without the risk of being watched, and persecuted,and hampered--while I am free to act, without the slightest chance ofbeing suspected. I am comparatively unknown, and can work without fear;besides, I am a woman, and can do what you would scorn to do. No man canbe a match for such a creature as Lydia Holdfast--let us call her bythat name. It must be a case of Greek meeting Greek, and in me thiswoman will find more than her match. So for the present do not moveopenly; do not run the risk of being discovered. Do nothing that willput our enemies on their guard; above all, do not write to the newspaperwhich published Lydia Holdfast's infamous story; a friend has alreadystepped forward in vindication of your character, and that should be acomfort to you, as it is to me. You are right in saying that it willbe best it should be believed that you are dead; therefore, do nothingrashly, but leave all to me.
See, now--I am writing with so much confidence and assurance thatanyone who did not know me would suppose I had a very wise head on myshoulders. Well, it may not be very wise, but it is clever and cunning,and that is just what is wanted--cunning to meet cunning. What is itShakespeare says about wearing your heart upon your sleeve? Not forme; I will keep my heart hidden, where only you can find it, and willwear in its place something that will make me smile, or pout, orcry--whichever will best serve my turn.
You see, my dear, I am on the spot, and in a position which gives mesuch immense advantages. Your father has been cruelly murdered--thediscovery of the murderer will lead to all the rest. There is in thishouse a man who is in some way interested in the mystery, who is livingunder an assumed name, who paints and wears a wig, and who endeavours topass himself off as a foreigner. I must find out who this Richard Manxreally is, and what is his motive in taking a room at the very top ofthe house, and in presenting himself here under a disguise. It is to himI have traced the report that our house and the next are haunted. He hasa purpose in spreading the report. Perhaps it is because he does notwish the house to be let until he has found what he is searching for inthe room in which your poor father was killed. He might take it himselfyou say. But would not this be to attract to himself an amount ofattention which would not be agreeable to him? As to his being as pooras he professes to be, I do not believe a word of it. He has taken uphis quarters here in such a manner as to cause him to be but littlenoticed, and it has been done with deliberate intention.
I could say a hundred other things, my mind is so crowded, but I have notime. I shall not send this letter through the post. Asleep in my bed isa trusty little friend, who will faithfully carry out what I give herto do. She will come to you, and you can say whatever you please toher--give her what message you like--and do not attempt to employ herin any other way than in bringing to me whatever you wish me to receive.I myself have a very delicate piece of work for her to do.
I long to see you, to embrace you, to comfort you; but for a littlewhile we must remain apart. I cannot come to you, nor can you come tome. We have too much at stake to run the slightest risk. I propose towrite to you every night, and to send Fanny to you every morning withmy letters. You can give her your letters to me. Do not send anymore strange men to the house. Richard Manx might see them, and hissuspicions might be aroused. Perhaps the hardest duty before us is theduty of patience, but unless we submit we shall fail in our purpose. Solet us be brave and patient, working not for the present, but for thefuture. My love, my heart, are yours for ever, and I thank God that Ihave such a man as you to love. If I write in a more serious vein than Iam accustomed to do, it is because I recognise the seriousness of thetask upon which we are engaged; it is not that I am altered; I could notwrite lightly if I tried, and in your eyes I would not be false.
I cannot say good-night. It is morning. Well, to us sunrise is betterthan sunset. Keep a stout heart, and do not despond--for your own sakeand mine. Farewell, dear love, for a few hours.
_END OF VOLUME II._
Transcriber's note
Words in italics have been surrounded by _underscores_ and smallcapitals have been changed to all capitals.
Punctuation errors have been corrected silently. Also thefollowing corrections have been made, on page
49 "a a" changed to "a" (You're a good girl) 56 "appproaching" changed to "approaching" (She was approaching the tragedy.) 82 "riv r" changed to "river" (by a dark river, lighted up by lightning) 104 "works" changed to "words" (the exact words spoken by) 125 "marriagable" changed to "marriageable" (marriageable young ladies) 134 "gentlemen" changed to "gentleman" (Sydney is a gentleman.) 139 "Their" changed to "There" (There lives not on earth) 197 "that" changed to "than" (less than a thousand a year) 218 "comfirmation" changed to "confirmation" (enlisted in confirmation of the news.).
Otherwise the original has been preserved, including inconsistentspelling and hyphenation, and possible errors in accentuation.
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