CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE MAN WITH THE CAMP-STOOL.
When she awoke in the morning it was some little time before she couldrealize where she was or recall the events which had made such a suddenchange in her life. The bare, cold room, with the whitewashed walls,and the narrow bed upon which she lay, brought back to her therecollection of a hospital ward which she had seen in Edinburgh, and herfirst thought was that she had had some accident and had been conveyedto some such establishment. The delusion was only momentary, however,for her true situation came back to her at once with all its vaguehorror. Of the two, she would have preferred that her first impressionhad been correct.
The small window of her apartment was covered by a dirty muslin blind.She rose and, drawing it aside, looked eagerly out. From what she hadseen the night before she had hoped that this prison to which she hadbeen conveyed might make amends for its loneliness by some degree ofnatural beauty. The scene which now met her eyes soon dispelled anyexpectations of the sort. The avenue with its trees lay on the otherside of the house. From her window nothing was visible but a drearyexpanse of bog-land and mudbanks stretching down to the sea. At hightide this enormous waste of dreariness and filth was covered by thewater, but at present it lay before her in all its naked hideousness,the very type of dullness and desolation. Here and there a fewscattered reeds, or an unhealthy greenish scum upon the mud, gave atouch of colour to the scene; but for the most part the great plain wasall of the same sombre mud tint, with its monotony broken only by thewhite flecks where the swarms of gulls and kittiwakes had settled in thehope of picking up whatever had been left by the receding tide.Away across the broad surface a line of sparkling foam marked the fringeof the ocean, which stretched away to the horizon.
A mile or two to the eastward of her Kate saw some sign of houses, and ablue smoke which flickered up into the air. This she guessed to be thefishing village of Lea Claxton, which the driver had mentioned the nightbefore. She felt, as she gazed at the little hamlet and the masts ofthe boats in front of it, that she was not alone in the world, and thateven in this strange and desolate place there were honest hearts to whomas a last resource she could appeal.
She was still standing at the window when there came a knocking at thedoor, and she heard the voice of the old woman asking if she were awake."Breakfast is ready," she said, "and the master is a-wondering why youbean't down."
On this summons Kate hastened her toilet and made her way down the oldwinding stair to the room in which they had supped the night before.Surely Girdlestone must have had a heart of flint not to be melted bythe sight of that fair, fresh face. His features set as hard as adamantas she entered the room, and he looked at her with eyes which werepuckered and angry.
"You are late," he said coldly. "You must remember that you are not inEccleston Square. 'An idle soul shall suffer hunger,' says the prophet.You are here to be disciplined, and disciplined you shall be."
"I am sorry," she answered. "I think that I must have been tired by ourjourney."
The vast room looked even more comfortless and bleak than on thepreceding evening. On the table was a plate of ham and eggs.John Girdlestone served out a portion, and pushed it in her direction.She sat down on one of the rough wooden chairs and ate listlessly,wondering how all this was going to end.
After breakfast Girdlestone ordered the old woman out of the room, and,standing in front of the fire with his long legs apart and his handsbehind his back, he told her in harsh concise language what hisintentions were.
"I had long determined," he said, "that if you ran counter to my wishes,and persisted in your infatuated affection for that scapegrace, I shouldremove you to some secluded spot, where you might reconsider yourconduct and form better resolutions for the future. This country houseanswered the purpose admirably, and as an old servant of mine, Mrs.Jorrocks, chanced to reside in the neighbourhood, I have warned her thatat any time I might come down and should expect to find things ready.Your rash and heartless conduct has, however, precipitated matters, andwe have arrived before her preparations were complete. Our futurearrangements will therefore be less primitive than they are at present.Here you shall remain, young lady, until you show signs of repentance,and of a willingness to undo the harm which you have done."
"If you mean until I consent to marry your son, then I shall live anddie here," the girl said bravely.
"That rests with yourself. As I said before, you are under disciplinehere, and you may not find existence such a bed of roses as it was inEccleston Square."
"Can I have my maid?" Kate asked. "I can hardly stay here with no onebut the old woman in the house."
"Rebecca is coming down. I had a telegram from Ezra to that effect, andhe will himself join us for a day or two in each week."
"Ezra here!" Kate cried in horror. Her chief consolation through allher troubles had been that there seemed to be some chance of getting ridof her terrible suitor.
"And why not?" the old man asked angrily. "Are you so bitter againstthe lad as to grudge him the society of his own father?"
Kate was saved from further reproaches by the entrance of the old womanto clear the table. The last item of intelligence, however, had givenher a terrible shock, and at the same time had filled her withastonishment. What could the fast-living, comfort-seeking man abouttown want in this dreary abode? She knew Ezra well, and was sure thathe was not a man to alter his ways of life or suffer discomfort of anykind without some very definite object. It seemed to her that this wasa new mesh in the net which was being drawn round her.
When her guardian had left the room Kate asked Mrs. Jorrocks for a sheetof paper. The crone shook her head and wagged her pendulous lip inderision.
"Mister Girdlestone thought as you would be after that," she said."There ain't no paper here, nor pens neither, nor ink neither."
"What, none! Dear Mrs. Jorrocks, do have pity on me, and get me a sheet,however old and soiled. See, here is some silver! You are very welcometo it if you will give me the materials for writing one letter."
Mrs. Jorrocks looked longingly with her bleared eyes at the fewshillings which the girl held out to her, but she shook her head."I dursn't do it," she said. "It's as much as my place is worth."
"Then I shall walk down to Bedsworth myself," said Kate angrily."I have no doubt that the people in the post office will let me sitthere and write it."
The old hag laughed hoarsely to herself until the scraggy sinews of herwithered neck stood out like whipcord. She was still chuckling andcoughing when the merchant came back into the room.
"What then?" he asked sternly, looking from one to the other. He washimself constitutionally averse to merriment, and he was irritated by itin others. "Why are you laughing, Mrs. Jorrocks?"
"I was a-laughing at her," the woman wheezed, pointing with tremulousfingers. "She was askin' me for paper, and sayin' as she would go andwrite a letter at the Bedsworth Post Office."
"You must understand once for all," Girdlestone roared, turning savagelyupon the girl, "that you are cut off entirely from the outer world.I shall give you no loophole which you may utilize to continue yourintimacy with undesirable people. I have given orders that you shouldnot be provided with either paper or ink."
Poor Kate's last hope seemed to be fading away. Her heart sank withinher, but she kept a brave face, for she did not wish him to see how hiswords had stricken her. She had a desperate plan in her head, whichwould be more likely to be successful could she but put him off hisguard.
She spent the morning in her own little room. She had been providedwith a ponderous brown Bible, out of which the fly leaves had beencarefully cut, and this she read, though her thoughts often wanderedaway from the sacred pages. About one o'clock she heard the clatter ofhoofs and the sound of wheels on the drive. Going down, she found thatit was a cart which had come from Bedsworth with furniture. There werecarpets, a chest of drawers, tables, and several other articles, whichthe driver proceeded to carry up
stairs, helped by John Girdlestone. Theold woman was in the upper room. It seemed to Kate that she might neveragain have such an opportunity of carrying out the resolve which she hadformed. She put on her bonnet, and began to stroll listlessly about infront of the door, picking a few straggling leaves from the neglectedlawn. Gradually she sauntered away in this manner to the head of theavenue, and then, taking one swift timid glance around, she slipped inamong the trees, and made the best of her way, half walking, halfrunning, down the dark winding drive.
Oh, the joy of the moment when the great white house which had alreadybecome so hateful to her was obscured among the trees behind her!She had some idea of the road which she had traversed the night before.Behind her were all her troubles. In front the avenue gate, Bedsworth,and freedom. She would send both a telegram and a letter to Dr.Dimsdale, and explain to him her exact situation. If the kind-heartedand energetic physician once knew of it, he would take care that no harmbefell her. She could return then, and face with a light heart theworst which her guardian could do to her. Here was the avenue entrancenow, the high lichen-eaten stone pillars, with the battered device uponthe top. The iron gate between was open. With a glad cry she quickenedher pace, and in another moment would have been in the high-road, when--
"Now then, where are you a-comin' to?" cried a gruff voice from amongthe bushes which flanked the gate.
The girl stopped, all in a tremble. In the shadow of the trees therewas a camp-stool, and on the camp-stool sat a savage-looking man,dressed in a dark corduroy suit, with a blackened clay pipe stuck in thecorner of his mouth. His weather-beaten mahogany face was plentifullycovered with small-pox marks, and one of his eyes was sightless andwhite from the effects of the same disease. He rose now, and interposedhimself between her and the gate.
"Sink me, if it ain't her," he said slowly, surveying her from head tofoot. "I were given to understand that she was a spanker, an' a spankershe be." With this oracular remark he took a step back and surveyedKate again with his one eye.
"My good man," she said, in a trembling voice, for his appearance wasfar from reassuring, "I wish to go past and to get to Bedsworth.Here is a shilling, and I beg that you will not detain me."
Her companion stretched out a very dirty hand, took the coin, spun it upin the air, caught it, bit it, and finally plunged it into the depths ofhis trouser pockets. "No road this way, missy," he said; "I've givenmy word to the guv'nor, and I can't go back from it."
"You have no right to detain me," Kate cried angrily. "I have goodfriends in London who will make you suffer for this."
"She's a-goin' to flare up," said the one-eyed man; "knock me helpless,if she ain't!"
"I shall come through!" the girl cried in desperation. She was only adozen yards from the lane which led to freedom, so she made a quicklittle feminine rush in the hope of avoiding this dreadful sentinel whobarred her passage. He caught her round the waist, however, and hurledher back with such violence that she staggered across the path, andwould have fallen had she not struck violently against a tree. As itwas, she was badly bruised and the breath shaken out of her body.
"She _has_ flared up," said the one-eyed man, removing his pipe from hislips. "Blow me asunder if she bean't a rustler!" He brought hiscamp-stool from the side of the pillar and, planting it right in thecentre of the gateway, sat down upon it again. "You see, missy," heremarked, "it's no manner o' use. If you did get out it would only beto be put in a reg'lar 'sylum."
"An asylum!" gasped Kate, sobbing with pain and anger. "Do you think Iam mad, then?"
"I don't think nowt about it," the man remarked calmly. "I knows it."
This was a new light to Kate. She was so bewildered that she couldhardly realize the significance of the remark.
"Who are you?" she said. "Why is it that you treat me in this cruelway?"
"Ah, now we come to business," he said, in a satisfied way, crossing hislegs, and blowing great wreaths from his pipe. "This is more likereason. Who am I? says you. Well, my name's Stevens--Bill Stevens,hesquire, o' Claxton, in the county o' Hants. I've been an A.B. in thenavy, and I've got my pension to show it. I've been in the loon'cybusiness, too--was second warder in the suicide ward at Portsmouth formore'n two year. I've been out of a billet for some time, and MusterGirdlestone he came to me and he says, 'You're William Stevens,hesquire?' says he. 'I am,' says I. 'You've had experience o'loonies?' says he. 'I have,' says I. 'Then you're the man I want,'says he. 'You shall have a pound a week an' nothing to do.' 'The verycrib for me,' says I. 'You've got to sit at the gate,' says he, 'andprevent a patient from gettin' out!' That was all as he said. Then youcomes down from Lunnon, an' I comes up from Claxton, and here we be, allsnug an' comfort'ble. So, you see, missy, it ain't no use at all, andyou'll never get out this way."
"But if you let me past he will think that I ran by so quickly that youcould not stop me. He could not be very angry then, and I shall giveyou more money than you would lose."
"No, no," said the man, shaking his head energetically, "I'm true to mycolours, sink me, but I am! I never was bribed yet, and never will beunless you can offer cash down instead o' promises. You can't lay themby to live on in your old age."
"Alas!" Kate cried, "I have no money except these few shillings."
"Give them over here, then." He put them in his trouser pocket besidethe other one. "That's all right, missy," he said, in a beery whisper."I won't say anything now to Muster Girdlestone about this job.He'd be wild if he knew, but mum's the word with William Stevens,hesquire. Lor', if this ain't my wife a-comin' out wi' my dinner!Away with ye, away! If she seed me a-speakin' to you she'd tear yourhair for you as like as not. She's jealous, that's what's the matterwi' her. If she sees a woman makin' much o' me, it's just pisen to her,and she goes for 'em straight. She's the one to make the fur fly!Away with you, I say!"
Poor Kate, appalled by the possibility of making a new enemy, turned andretraced her steps slowly and sadly up the avenue. As she glanced backshe saw a gaunt, hard-featured woman trudging up the lane with a tin canin her hand. Lonely and forlorn, but not yet quite destitute of hope,she turned to the right among the trees, and pushed her way throughbushes and brambles to the boundary of the Priory grounds. It was alofty wall, at least nine feet in height, with a coping which bristledwith jagged pieces of glass. Kate walked along the base Of it, her fairskin all torn and bleeding with scratches from the briars, until shesatisfied herself that there was no break in it. There was one smallwooden door on the side which was skirted by the railway line, but itwas locked and impassable. The only opening through which a human beingcould pass was that which was guarded in the manner she had seen. Thesickening conviction took possession of her mind that without wings itwas an utter impossibility either to get away or to give the leastinformation to any one in the world as to where she was or what mightbefall her.
When she came back to the house, tired and dishevelled after her journeyof exploration, Girdlestone was standing by the door to receive her witha sardonic smile upon his thin lips. "How do you like the grounds,then?" he asked, with, the nearest approach to hilarity which she hadever heard from him. "And the ornamental fencing? and the lodge-keeper?How did you like them all?"
Kate tried for a moment to make some brave retort, but it was a uselessattempt. Her lips trembled, her eyes filled, and, with a cry of griefand despair which might have moved a wild beast, she fled to her room,and, throwing herself upon her bed, burst into such scalding bittertears as few women are ever called upon to shed.