A Search For A Secret: A Novel. Vol. 2

  CHAPTER IX.

  POLLY TO THE RESCUE.

  In three or four days after that terrible interview with Percy, in whichwe agreed--well, I don't know that we actually did agree toanything,--but in which it was at any rate understood that my resolutionwas immovable, and that I would not marry and accompany him to Indiawithout Lady Desborough's consent to our union--I received a letter fromhim. It was written from Newry, where his regiment was stationed, andwas as follows:--

  "My darling Agnes,

  "I do not write this letter to you to ask you to reconsider your determination. Deeply as I feel the disappointment of my dearest hopes, I yet bow to your decision. Indeed, although it is against me, I feel, now that I can consider it calmly, that it is the only one which you, with your feelings of delicacy, could have arrived at. Forgive me, Agnes, for the cruel way in which I tried and agitated you the other day; but my mother's hardness and obduracy had driven me nearly out of my mind. I went away, Agnes, with your words ringing in my ears, 'Wait and hope!' and I am ready to do so. But how long, Agnes? My regiment may not improbably remain in India fifteen years; but at the end of eight years out there, I can return home for, at any rate, a year's leave; so that I may expect to be in England again in nine years from the present time. I shall by that time have got my troop; and my pay as a captain in India, together with the extra pay I may get from any staff appointment, would enable us to live in tolerable comfort. Should my regiment be returning before the time I name, I can exchange into another; so as to remain in India, at any rate, for another six or seven years.

  "Will you, Agnes, when I return in nine years from this time, be my wife?--I mean, whether my mother still oppose or not? I cannot think she will; but let us suppose the worst. Will you then be my wife? Will you continue your engagement to me, and correspond with me for that time? Will you give me that fixed period to look forward to, instead of a restless waiting for my mother's death? If you do this, I shall be comparatively happy; for I should then have something certain to look forward to. If you answer 'yes,' I shall write to my mother, whom I have neither seen nor heard from, and say that I am willing--at your request--so far to give in to her that I will agree not to marry you before proceeding to India, and that we will wait, at any rate, until my return. But that I shall, of course, expect on her part that my allowance will be continued as before. The three hundred a-year which I receive from her I shall scrupulously lay by, as I can manage very well in India upon my lieutenant's pay; and as this, without counting what I may make by my staff appointment, will amount to nearly three thousand pounds in the nine years, I shall--even in the event of my mother refusing to assist me farther after my marriage with you--have accumulated enough to purchase my majority when the time comes. This is my future, if you agree to my proposal, dearest. If you tell me that you will not promise, if you write and repeat that you will not ruin me by marrying without my mother's consent, my mind is made up. I shall at once send in my papers to the Horse Guards, sell my commission, and embark for Australia, where, I am told, with a thousand pounds capital to start with, I may in a few years be a rich man. I shall then return and claim you, and no one will have a right to discuss my choice. Upon your decision, dearest Agnes, rests my future. What is it to be?

  "Your own,

  "PERCY."

  After I had read this letter through many times, I resolved to lay itbefore Polly, in whose judgment I felt the most perfect confidence. Mysister did not hesitate a moment.

  "What Percy asks is only fair, Agnes. He must not, as he says, be madeto look forward to his mother's death as the only hope of his marriagewith you. If you and he make this great sacrifice to her wishes, and atthe end of nine years are of the same mind, I think that he atthirty-two and you at twenty-seven, have a perfect right to marry evenwithout her consent; and by that time, as he says, his position will beso secured that he can afford to make the money sacrifice. Write andagree to his proposal, dear, by all means."

  My own opinion tallied with Polly's, and I wrote to Percy to tell himthat I agreed to remain engaged to him, and that, at the end of the nineyears, if he claimed me, I would be his. That I would not cease allcorrespondence with him, although I felt that I had better do so, butthat I would agree to exchange letters once every three months.

  Percy wrote at once, thanking me very much for my decision, but beggingthat I would not insist on such long intervals between the letters. Iwould not, however, relax that condition. I knew how few longengagements ever came to anything, and how hard it is for a man to waitthrough the best part of his life. I determined, therefore, not to keepup a too frequent exchange of letters, which would, I felt, however muchhe might wish it at present, prove terribly tiresome to him long beforethe expiration of the period of trial; and yet he would not like to falloff in his correspondence, for he would know that I should feel it agreat trial when he began to write less frequently. So I maintained myresolution, but told him that, in the event of illness, or of anyparticular news, the rule might, of course, be broken.

  In another day or two I heard again from him, saying that hismother--while on her part reiterating her assertion that she shouldnever alter her determination, or consent to his marriage with any womanwithout either money or rank to assist him--had yet agreed willingly tohis proposal, namely, that things should go on as before, and that thebreach between them should be healed if he would go to India by himself.

  And so it was settled; and when my letter to Percy in answer to his waswritten, the three months' rule began. And now that I could have noletter for that time, I settled down into a dreamy, despondent state,from which, although I tried to rouse myself, I could not succeed indoing so. Nine years! It was such a long, long time to look forward to;and so few long engagements ever came to anything, even when there wereno difficulties in the way. How could I hope that my case would form anexception to the rule?

  Under all this, my health, which had never since my mother's death beenstrong, failed rapidly, in spite of papa's tonics, and sister Polly'skindness and tender care. Papa I could see was growing very anxiousabout me, and I myself thought that I was going into a decline. I wasthin and pale; I had no longer strength to go for long walks with Polly,but seldom went out beyond the garden. I felt the heat, too, dreadfully.I do not know that it was a particularly hot summer, but I was weak, andthe heat tired me sadly. Polly was unceasing in her kindness andattention; she read to me, chatted to me, talked cheerfully about thefuture, pictured Percy's return to claim me, painted our life in India,and laughingly said that if she could not get a husband here, that shewould come out to us on spec. Indeed she did everything in her power tocheer and amuse me. I tried hard to respond to all this kindness, butwith little result; I was ashamed of myself for giving way, and yet Igave way, and daily became weaker and weaker. I am sure that Pollythought I was going to die, and she came to a resolution of the resultof which I was not told till long afterwards.

  She ascertained that the elder Miss Harmer was in the habit of coming inon Sunday mornings, to the little Catholic chapel in the town, and thatshe was very seldom accompanied by her sister. Accordingly, one morningwhen I was unusually poorly, and was unable to go to church, she startedearly, and walked through the town, and out upon the road to Sturry;presently she saw the well-known Harmer carriage approaching, and shepulled down her veil as it approached her, to prevent any possibility ofher being recognized.

  She pursued her way until she reached the lodge gate of Harmer Place,turned in, went up the drive, and rang at the hall door. Sarah openedit, and looked not a little surprised at seeing Polly.

  "Is Miss Angela Harmer in, Sarah?"

  "Yes, Miss, she has just come down into the drawing-room."

  "Do not ask her if she will see me, Sarah, as I have no doubt she wouldrefuse, and it
is absolutely necessary that I should have a talk withher."

  "Very well, Miss," Sarah said; "I gave notice better than three weeksago, and my month is up on Thursday, so I do not care in the least whatthey say to me." Accordingly Sarah led the way to the drawing-room,opened the door, and announced "Miss Mary Ashleigh." Polly went in, thedoor closed behind her, and she was alone with Angela Harmer.

  The old lady had changed much since Polly had seen her a year before;she had aged wonderfully, and was evidently breaking fast; her cheekshad fallen in, her face was wrinkled, and her whole figure was thinnerand feebler than before; her hands, too, which had before been plump andwell shaped--and upon which, if Angela Harmer had a single thought ofpersonal vanity, she rather prided herself--were thin and bony,unmistakably the hands of an old woman.

  As Polly Ashleigh was announced and entered, Angela Harmer half rose,with an exclamation almost of terror, and looked round with a wild,frightened look, as if seeking some outlet of escape; but there wasnone, and even had there been she could not have availed herself of it,for her knees gave way under her, and she sank down with a scared,helpless look, into the chair from which she had half risen.

  Polly raised her veil, and looked down with a rather heightened colour,but with a steady look, at the cowering old woman before her, and thensaid, "You are surprised to see me here, Miss Harmer; and you well maybe; for myself--had it been to make me the richest woman in theworld--would not have set foot as a petitioner within the walls; but onbehalf of my sister, I would do this and much more."

  "What do you want, Miss Ashleigh?" Angela Harmer said, in hurried,anxious tones. "You must not talk to me; you must see my sister; she ismore able to talk upon business than I am."

  "I do not go to your sister, Miss Harmer, because I know my errand wouldthen be a fruitless one. I come to you in her absence, because from whatI know and have heard of you, I believe that your heart is accessible toimpulses of kindness and pity; I come to you because I believe you tohave been a mere passive participator in the wrong which others havecommitted."

  "What do you want?" again Miss Harmer asked, in the same frightened,helpless way.

  "I ask at your hands my sister's life--Miss Harmer, she is dying; do youknow why? She was happy, she was loved; and was engaged to a man worthyof her, and they would before this have been married. But this man isdependent upon another, and that other's consent was only given for himto wed an heiress; my sister is an heiress no longer. This man wouldgladly take her penniless as she is, take her to the ruin of his worldlyprospects, but she cannot accept the sacrifice; and she is dying--dying;do you hear that, Miss Harmer? And you are assuredly hermurderess,--far, far more so than you allege Sophy to have been of yourbrother; for he was an old man, suffering from a deadly malady, by whichhe might at any moment have been carried off, while this is a fair,young, happy girl, whom you have struck down. She is dying;--MissHarmer, I demand her life of you!"

  Miss Harmer cowered back into her chair before the young girl who stoodlooking down with her earnest face upon her; and raised her handsfeebly, as if to keep her accuser at a distance.

  "I pity you," Polly went on, "I pity you from my heart; but yet I demandmy sister's life; give her back to us again, and you will bedoubly--yes, tenfold repaid; for your peace of mind will be restored toyou. I know what you must have suffered--your changed face shows it; Iknow what misery you must have undergone, and the struggle between yourconscience, your innate sense of right, and what you had been led tobelieve. This was terrible before; but it was nothing to what you willfeel now, with the thought of my sister, whom you are sending to hergrave, before you. You cannot--I see it in your face--you cannotreconcile with your conscience what you are doing; for your own sake,Miss Harmer, and for my sister's, I call upon you to do what is right."

  "What would you have?" Miss Harmer asked, wringing her hands in helplessdespair; "we offered at Christmas----"

  "You did," Polly broke in, "you tried to cheat your conscience, asAnanias did of old, by giving part while you held back the rest; but wecould not accept it: not even to save life, could we receive as a giftpart of our own, and so become almost participators in the robbery ofSophy and ourselves. No, Miss Harmer, we must have our own, or nothing.I call upon you now, solemnly in the names of your dead brother, and ofmy dying sister, to give me this will you are hiding. Give it to me, andI promise you in the name of us all, that the past shall never bealluded to; I offer you a clear conscience, and our blessing, as thesaviour of my sister's life."

  "But my sister!--Father Eustace!" Miss Harmer murmured, in a terrifiedtone to herself. "Oh, no, no, no, I dare not!" and she again wrung herhands despairingly.

  "You dare not refuse, Miss Harmer; you dare not go down to your gravewith this grievous wrong and with my sister's death upon your soul; youwill have to meet then, One whose wrath will be far more terrible thanthat of the anger of mortal. Miss Harmer, give me the will,--come," andwith an air of mingled entreaty and command, Sophy took Miss Harmer'shands, looking down upon her with her earnest eyes, and Miss Harmeralmost unconsciously rose to her feet.

  "Come," Polly said again, "save my sister's life, earn peace andhappiness for yourself, here and hereafter."

  The girl led the old woman to the door, never taking her eyes from herface, for she felt that somehow she was exercising a strange power overher, that she was leading her, as it were, against her own will andvolition, and that if nothing occurred to break the spell, the victorywas hers. Miss Harmer's eyes were wide open, but she hardly seemed tosee, but went mechanically, like a person walking in her sleep; her lipsmoved, but no sound came from them; then they went out of the door, andup the stairs, and turned towards the door of Mr. Harmer's formerbedroom, when a noiseless step came up the stairs behind them, a handwas placed upon Miss Harmer's shoulder, and the deep voice of FatherEustace said,--

  "Sister Angela, what are you doing?"

  As a sleep-walker startled at some sudden touch from a dream, the oldwoman turned round with a convulsive start, and then with a loud cryfell senseless to the ground.

  "Who are you?" the priest asked of Polly, as he stooped to raise thefallen woman. "Who are you?"

  "One of the rightful possessors of this house," Polly said, proudly; andthen turning round--for she saw that the prize was hopelessly lost atthe moment of victory--she went down stairs and out of the house,telling Sarah, whom she found in the hall, to go upstairs to help theastonished Father Eustace to carry the insensible woman to her room.

  Polly, when she got home again, went straight to the library, and toldpapa of her visit to Harmer Place, and its results, and how nearly shehad been to the recovery of the will. Papa looked thoughtful over it forsome time.

  "It was a dangerous experiment, Polly, but the fact that you so nearlysucceeded, proves that it was not a hopeless one, as I should haveunhesitatingly have pronounced it to be, had you asked my opinion beforestarting. It shows that the will is in existence still, and no doubt asshe was leading you towards Mr. Harmer's room, she was going down theupper staircase towards the secret chamber, in some closet in which itis undoubtedly concealed. I only hope that Miss Harmer will not, whenshe returns home, and hears what a narrow escape she has had, destroythe will at once. However, we must do as we have done before, hope forthe best."

  Papa and Polly had a long talk again over Miss Harmer, and they quiteagreed that her religious bigotry and personal obstinacy were both sogreat that it was hopeless to expect any change in her. Her superstitionwas the only weak point in her character. So great was this, that papasaid that, strong-minded woman as she was in other respects, he hadheard her confess that she would not remain without a light at night forany consideration, and that she would not even go into a dark roomwithout a candle on any account.

  "It is very strange, papa," Polly said. "How do you account for afeeling so opposed to her general character?"

  "We are all anomalies, Polly, and in the present instance the anomalycan be accounted for more easily than it can
in many others. Aschildren, the Misses Harmer were brought up in convents abroad, and sawpictures and were told stories of the martyrdoms of saints, until thevery air seemed full of horrors. I have no doubt that this is how theirfeeling originated; but at any rate it is fortunate for us, for there isno question that it is their superstition, heightened by the threat Iheld over them of their brother's spirit, which has prevented MissHarmer from destroying the will long ago."

  "I wish I could frighten her again," Polly said thoughtfully.

  "Come, Polly, no more tricks," papa said, "you might get yourself intosome very serious scrape. You must promise me that you will on noaccount go to Harmer Place again, without consulting me beforehand."

  Polly did not like to promise, but papa insisted upon it, and Polly,although very reluctantly, had to bind herself by a promise not to do soagain.

  Two days afterwards, a short time after breakfast--to which I had notrisen--there was a knock at the door, and the servant came in, lookingrather surprised, and said that Miss Harmer wished to speak to Miss MaryAshleigh.

  Polly, who was alone, at once ordered her to be shown in. The girl roseto meet her visitor with a bright flush on her cheek, and a littlenervous tremor of excitement running through her, for she felt that MissHarmer was a very different woman to her sister, and that she had aharder battle to fight than the previous one had been, and with even aslighter chance of victory.

  Miss Harmer entered stiff and unbending, and her cold stern face at oncerestored Polly's composure. Her bow of greeting was to the full ashaughty as that of Miss Harmer, and she motioned that lady to a chair,and in silence sat down opposite to her.

  The two women looked at each other full in the face, and Miss Harmer,fearless as she herself was of all earthly things, could not helpadmiring the bright unflinching look of the young girl, and feeling thatdespite the difference of age, she had met an opponent worthy of her.Seeing that Polly waited quietly for her to begin, she said at last,--

  "I have called, Miss Ashleigh, to remonstrate with you upon your veryextraordinary conduct the other day. My sister has been very ill, andindeed it was only last evening that she was able to give me any accountof what had taken place."

  "I am sorry to hear that your sister has been ill, Miss Harmer, but forno other reason do I regret what I did. I endeavoured for my sister'ssake to persuade your sister to do what was right. I grieve that myattempt failed, but on that account only do I regret what I have done. Idid it without the knowledge of my father or sister. I acted as I didbecause my conscience told me I was right."

  "But your conduct is outrageous, Miss Ashleigh," Miss Harmer saidangrily. "You first gratuitously assume that this will--which there isevery reason to believe is long since destroyed--is in existence; uponthe strength of this unfounded and injurious supposition you insult usgrossly, and have shocked and alarmed my poor sister beyond description.If such a thing occur again, or if any similar attempt is made, I shallcall in the assistance of the law for our protection."

  "I assume that the will is in existence, Miss Harmer, because I am ascertain of it as I am of my own being."

  "I suppose," Miss Harmer said scornfully, "you imagine that my poorsister--whom your language and manner appear to have affected until shedid not know what she was doing--was taking you to my brother's room,and that she would have there unlocked a drawer and given you the will."

  "My supposition is founded upon no such grounds, Miss Harmer. I know thewill to be in existence, and I also know that it is not in yourbrother's room."

  Polly spoke so calmly and earnestly, that Miss Harmer felt a littlestartled and uneasy in spite of herself.

  "Upon what my conviction is founded I will presently inform you. Myattempt failed, and I shall try no more, but leave the matter in Hishands who is certain to bring the works of darkness to light in the end.You believe, Miss Harmer," and the girl's voice rose now, and becamemore firm and impressive, "that you are acting in the interests of God;believe me, He is strong enough to act for Himself. I have a strong, asure conviction that some day it will be all made straight, and in themeantime I am content to trust my sister's life in His hands, and wait.If she die, it is His will; but I still hope that He will in some way orother make known to me where the will is placed."

  Miss Harmer looked scornfully at her. Polly paid no heed to her look;she had turned her eyes from Miss Harmer now, and was looking straightbefore her, and went on, speaking in a quiet, dreamy tone, as if almostunconscious of her visitor's presence.

  "Already I know much. I know that the will is not destroyed, and yet Iknow not where it is, but I may know yet. I have dreams at night. I seeat times before me a small chamber, with a single arm-chair and a tablethere; a light stands upon the table, and a figure, your brother, sitsthere writing. The will lies on the table before him. He has risen now,and has taken up the will and the candle, but the light burns dimly, andI cannot see what he does with it; but I know somehow that he has put itinto a place of safety, and that it is there still. A voice seems to sayto me, 'Patience, and wait: I guard it!' When I wake I know this is noordinary dream, for it comes over and over again, and I know that thechamber is in existence. I can see it now before me, with its lowceiling, and a stone staircase which seems to run through it, leadingboth up and down--I know not where. I can see it, with its table andchair, with books and some scattered papers, and a figure is sitting inthe chair, and which yet seems to me to be no figure, but a mere shadow;but I know that he is there, and that he will wait until the time comesfor the hidden will to be found. Miss Harmer!" Polly said, turningsuddenly round upon her, "you best know how far my dream is true, andwhether such a chamber as I have seen exists!"

  Miss Harmer made no reply, but sat as if stricken with a fit. She hadduring her brother's life been frequently in the "priest's chamber," andonce on the afternoon of his death; and the room rose before her asPolly described it, with its table and candles, and her brother sittingreading, and the stone steps leading up and down. She could hardly keepherself from screaming aloud. The hard, rigid lines of her face relaxed;the tightly-closed lips parted; and the whole expression of her face waschanged by this great terror.

  Polly saw the tremendous sensation she had created, and rose and filleda tumbler with water from a caraffe which stood on the side board, andoffered it to Miss Harmer, but she motioned it away. Polly set it downbeside her, and it was some time before the stricken woman could trusther trembling hand to carry it to her lips. At length she did so, dranka little, and then said,--

  "One question, Miss Ashleigh: Did my brother ever reveal to your father,sister, or yourself the existence and description of such a place as youspeak of?"

  "As I hope in heaven!" Polly said, solemnly, "he did not."

  There was a pause for some time, and then Miss Harmer said, veryfeebly,--

  "I confess you have startled me, Miss Ashleigh; for you have, I sayhonestly, described accurately a place the very existence of which Ibelieved known only to my dead brother, my sister, myself, and one otherperson abroad, with whom it would be as safe as with myself. I went intothat chamber on the day after my brother's death, to see if the will wason that table, but, as you say, it was not. Should it be anywhere inexistence, which, remember, I am ignorant of--for I give you my solemnassurance that I have not seen it since my brother's death--and should,in your dream, the place where it is hidden be revealed to you, come tome, and you shall be free to examine the place, and take the will if youfind it. I will acknowledge the hand of God, and not struggle againstit. And now goodbye. You will not come again to my sister?"

  "I will not, Miss Harmer. I wait and hope."

  "Will you not reconsider the proposal we made?"

  "No, Miss Harmer--it is impossible."

  Miss Harmer now rose with some difficulty, and went out, attended byPolly, to her carriage, with an air very different to her usual uprightwalk.

  When the door had closed, and the carriage had driven off, Polly saidexultingly to herself, "The will is
safe for a time anyhow."

  Four or five days afterwards papa received a formal letter from MissHarmer's man of business in London, saying that the Misses Harmer wereanxious to clear off all outstanding accounts, and that they did notfind any mention among Mr. Harmer's papers of money paid to Dr. Ashleighfor professional services, during the three years prior to his death;that as all other payments were punctually entered by Mr. Harmer, it wasevident that no such sum had been paid; and that he, therefore, at MissHarmer's request, forwarded a cheque for L500, being, she stated,certainly not too large a sum for the constant attendance furnished byhim during that time.

  Papa did not refuse to accept this money, as indeed he had not, from thetime that Mr. Harmer declared his intentions respecting us, ever sent inany account to him. Papa determined to spend the money in making a grandtour for the benefit of my health; and accordingly, in anotherfortnight--having arranged with some one to take his practice during hisabsence--he, Polly, and I started for a four months' tour. For that timewe wandered through Switzerland, Germany, and the old cities of Belgium;and very greatly we enjoyed it. My health improved with the change ofscene, and when we returned to our old home, at the end of November, Iwas really myself again, and was able to look forward cheerfully to thefuture, and to take my part again in what was going on round me.