Kitabı oku: «The White Virgin», sayfa 13

Chapter Twenty Eight.
A New Horror

Letters reached the cottage at frequent intervals after the Major’s return, in which as he breathed in every line his intense affection, Clive fretted at the chain which still bound him to London.

For, as he explained at length, a heavy blow had been struck at the mining company, bringing ruin upon those who had shown a want of faith, though the stability of the property was not really stirred. The rumour which had so rapidly spread had had its influence though, and time would be needed before many people would believe in the truth, and it was for the protection of the property, and to save other shareholders from following the panic-stricken party, that Clive felt compelled to be in town.

Then, too, he sent a shiver through Dinah, as he wrote to her about his troubles at the mine.

“Misfortunes never come singly,” he said. “As I daresay you have heard, my foreman Sturgess has met with a nasty accident, and Robson, my clerk, sends me word that he has been delirious and wandering a good deal. He fell down one of the inner shafts where he could have no business, and ought to be thankful that he escaped with his life. Now I do not want to be exacting, darling, but if you could do any little thing to soften the man’s misfortune, I should be glad. He is an ill-conditioned fellow, but he is my employé, and I want to do my duty by him as far as I can.”

Dinah, in her agony of spirit, wanted to rush off to her own room and hide herself from the sight of all. For this appeal seemed more than she could bear; but the Major was present, and at that moment spoke about the contents of his own letter.

“Reed wants us to see and help his foreman, who is lying at one of the cottages ill from a fall. We must do all we can, my dear. He’s a good fellow, is Clive. Very thoughtful of others. Dear, dear, if I had only been a little more strong-minded.”

“Have you suffered so very heavily, father?” said Dinah, who forced herself to be calm and speak.

“Suffered! Oh, yes, my dear, in mind as well as pocket. You were right, my child; he is all that is honourable and true. But it is very humiliating – very lowering to the spirit of an old soldier.”

“To find that you have mistrusted him, father?”

“Er – er – yes, my dear; but – but – there I will be frank with you. I did not mean that.”

“Father, you are keeping something from me.”

“Yes, my dear, I am,” said the Major hurriedly; “but Dinah, my dear, I have not accepted yet. The fact is, I have lost all, my dear – at least all but a beggarly pittance saved out of the wreck; and Clive – God bless him for a true gentleman!”

Dinah’s arms were round her father’s neck, as the love-light shone in her eyes, and she laid her cheek upon his shoulder.

“Well, yes, my dear, he is; and I suppose with all his simplicity and want of ostentation he is very rich. His house in town is – ah, well, never mind that! He insists upon giving me as many shares in the mine as I fooled away.”

“But you cannot accept them from him, dear father,” cried Dinah, raising her head, and looking at him anxiously.

“No, my darling, I told him so; that it would be a cruel humiliation; and that I would never accept them.”

“Yes; that was quite right, dearest,” said Dinah, with her eyes flashing.

“But he said – ”

“Yes, what did he say?”

“That I was foolishly punctilious, that I was going to give him something of more value than all the riches in the world, and that I refused to take a fitting present from him.”

The warm blood glowed in Dinah’s cheeks, and there was a look of pride and happiness in her eyes which were gradually softened by the gathering tears.

“Yes, but you cannot take this, father dear!” she said softly. “It would be humiliation to us both. If we are very poor, and Clive loves me, he will love my dear father too. You must not take this, dear. It would be doubly painful after mistrusting him as you did.”

“Then I have done right,” cried the Major cheerfully.

“You have refused.”

“Yes. I was sorely tempted, my darling, for I felt how I was bringing you down to poverty; that I was no longer in a position to – to – Oh, hang it, Dinah,” cried the old man, with the tears in his eyes, “I would sooner march through a storm of bullets than go through this.”

“Clive loves me for myself, dearest father,” said Dinah, drawing his convulsed face down upon her bosom, to hide the weak tears of bitterness; “and it is not as if you were living in London. Our wants are so few here, and there are the few hundred pounds which you have often told me came from my dearest mother.”

“No, no; that could not be touched,” cried the Major, very firmly now. “That was to be your wedding portion, child.”

“There is no question of money between us, father,” said Dinah proudly. “I tell you again Clive loves me for myself, and there is a wedding portion here within my heart that can never fail. No, dearest, you cannot take this gift from my husband. You are rich in yourself as an English gentleman, and with your honourable name.”

A spasm shot through the Major, and his face contracted and looked older.

“There,” continued Dinah, “that is all at an end. Only we will economise, and live more simply, dear. But tell me I am right.”

“Always right, my darling,” cried the Major. “There, you have taken a heavy load from my breast. Hang it, yes, pet. We have our home and garden, and there is my preserve. A bit of bread of old Martha’s best, and a dish of trout of my own catching, or a bird or two. Bah! who says we’re poor?”

“Who would not envy us for being so rich?” cried Dinah, smiling.

“To be sure. And when my lord of the mines comes down,” cried the Major merrily, “we’ll be haughty with him, and let him see that it is a favour to be allowed to partake of our hermitage fare, eh?”

“Yes, yes,” cried Dinah, with childlike glee, though her eyes were still wet with tears. “But, father dear,” she faltered, “there is one thing I want to say.”

“Yes, my darling?”

“This man who is lying ill.”

“Yes, yes. We must do all we can.”

“No, father,” she said, speaking more firmly now. “We cannot go to him.”

“Eh! Why not?”

“Because – because,” faltered Dinah, with her voice sounding husky. Then growing strong, and her eyes looking hard and glittering, “Soon after he came down here, he began to follow me about.”

“What! The scoundrel!” roared the Major.

“And one day he spoke to me – and insulted me.”

“The dog – the miserable hound. But – here, Dinah – why was I not told of this?”

“Because, dear – I thought it better – I felt that I could not speak – I – ”

“Ah, but Clive shall know of this. But you have told him? Why has he not dismissed the hound?”

“No, I have not told Clive, father – not any one. Some day I must tell him – but not now.”

“Really, my darling!” cried the Major, whose face was flushed, and the veins were starting in his forehead.

“Father, this is very, very painful to me, your child,” she pleaded; “and I beg – I pray that you will say no more.”

“What! not have him punished?”

“No; not now. He is punished, dearest. But we cannot go to his help.”

“Help,” cried the Major furiously. “I should kill him.”

Dinah laid her hands upon his breast, and at last he bent down and kissed her.

“May I tell Clive when he comes?”

“No, dearest,” said Dinah, in quite a whisper, and with her face very pale now, while her voice was almost inaudible; “that must come from me.”

The Major frowned, and kissed his child’s pale face, prior to making another grievous mistake in his troubled life.

Chapter Twenty Nine.
The Explosion

There was joy in the little cottage by the swiftly running river one day about a fortnight later, when a shadow was cast across the window; and with a cry of delight Dinah looked up from her work and saw that Clive Reed had approached silently, and was gazing in.

The next moment she was nestling in his strong arms, responding to his kisses, and feeling once more safe, protected, and that there was nothing more to fear or wish for in life.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she whispered, as she drew him farther in with the blood flushing in her cheeks, and her hands trembling, lest her abandonment in her ecstasy of delight had been seen.

“Why not?” cried Clive. “I feel as if I could melt away into smiles and laughter – there’s a beautiful idea, pet – in the joy I feel at being back – at holding you in these great rough arms, at feeling safe, and that you had not forgotten me and run away with some fine handsome fellow while I was gone.”

“Clive!”

“Well, I do. I’m quite boyish – childish – oh, my darling, have I got you here in my arms once more?”

There was no doubt of it, for timid and shrinking now, Dinah kissed him gravely upon the forehead, and then gently and firmly shrank from his strong embrace.

“Where is the Major?” he cried.

“He has taken his satchel and geological hammer, and gone for a long walk.”

“Without you?”

“Yes; that is why I said, don’t laugh at me, and you stopped me from saying more. Clive – I felt that you would come this morning.”

“Ah, and how much sooner I should have been, but for the miserable worry of the company’s affairs. There, I will not worry you about that, and I am glad to say that I found Sturgess rapidly getting well. But he had a nasty accident. And how’s dear old Martha?”

“Quite well. She has been talking about you and longing to see you every day.”

“Bless her. And you. Oh, my darling, you look more beautiful than ever!”

“Clive!”

“You do. More sweet, more lovable. Oh, Dinah, there was never such a happy fellow before. This place is a paradise after grimy old London, and – oh, here is the Major, I can hear his step.”

Dinah turned pale.

“That is not his step,” she said, as she looked excitedly toward the window.

Clive rose, went to it, and looked out.

“Why, it’s Robson,” he cried. “Hang it! I hope there is nothing wrong. I’ll go and meet him.” Before he was outside Dinah was after him, and she hurriedly placed her hand upon his arm.

“Eh? Well, come with me then, pet. I have no secrets from you. – Well, Robson, what’s the matter? Sturgess worse?”

“No, sir, but you are wanted over yonder directly.”

“Wanted?”

“Yes, sir, there’s a party of gentlemen come down.”

“What – visitors? Oh, hang them; they want to see the mine, I suppose?”

“No, sir. They say they’ve come to take possession.”

“What?”

“I suppose they’re bailiffs, sir.”

“And I suppose you’re a confounded fool!” cried Clive angrily. “That mine does not owe a penny!”

“One of the gentlemen said he was a shareholder, sir, the principal shareholder, and he gave me his card.”

Clive snatched it, and Dinah read the name thereon —

“Mr Wrigley, New Inn, Strand.”

“Wrigley?” cried Clive excitedly.

“Yes, sir; and he said he must see you at once.”

“All right; I’ll come. Wait for me yonder at the corner, Robson; and I beg your pardon for speaking so roughly just now.”

“That’s nothing, sir. You were cross,” said the clerk, smiling; and he walked back down the garden to go and stand watching the trout in the river.

“Don’t look so scared, dearest,” said Clive tenderly; “there is nothing wrong. I’ll tell you briefly what it is. You know there was a scare about the mine – a panic.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Well, a lot of foolish old friends were frightened – oh, dear me! I’m accusing the Major. Well, there, I can’t help it. He did act foolishly. A lot of them, I say, instead of coming to me went and sold their shares, and these were bought up by speculators who have since then been interfering at our board meetings, and wanting to meddle over the management of things. In fact, I was so wroth that I would not go to yesterday’s meeting, but determined to come down here and see how things were, and – you know why I came. Now I must go on. I suppose they had their meeting yesterday, and passed some resolution or another; but I’m too big a shareholder to be trifled with, and I’m going to meet these people now and have a row. For they shall have their big dividends, but I’m not going to have any meddlesome fools down here.”

“But you will keep your temper, dear, and be calm.”

“I’ll take your sweet face with me, love, and – why, here’s the Major. Ah, my dear old dad, how are you? Good-bye, Dinah. Come over to the mine with me, sir, and help me to keep my temper; well talk as we go.”

“Of course,” cried the Major. “But look here, my boy – so glad to see you down – I saw a party going to the mine, and I hurried back trusting that one of them might be you.”

“Come along,” cried Clive; and after a quick, tender farewell, he hurried away along the path to the mine, explaining matters to the Major as he went.

On reaching the gate in the hill side, and entering the busy little hive of industry, it was plain that something important was on the way; for the men were all up from the workings, and were evidently listening to one of a party of well-dressed men, who was addressing them, and a buzz of voices arose as Clive, looking very stern now, walked up to the front of the office with his two companions.

“Oh, good morning, Mr Reed,” said the speaker, getting down from a pile of lead pigs.

“Good morning, Mr Wrigley. Well, Jessop, you here?”

The latter gentleman nodded, and Sturgess, who had his arm in a sling, stood close behind him.

“I have been telling the men, Mr Reed, that in consonance with the resolution passed at the board yesterday – ”

“In my absence, Mr Wrigley.”

“You had the proper notices, sir,” said the lawyer coldly. “I say in accordance with the resolution passed yesterday, it was determined, in the interests of the ‘White Virgin Mine,’ to have a complete change of management.”

“Indeed!” said Clive. “But I, as the greatest shareholder, object.”

“You cannot, sir. I and my friends are greater shareholders, and have the majority with us. Out of respect to your late father’s memory we have made a concession to your brother.”

“Jessop!” cried Clive.

“Yes, sir. You will give up everything into his hands, for he will reside here and take the management, helped and counselled by Mr Sturgess, who now becomes co-manager of the property.”

“And I?” said Clive, who was perfectly aghast at the petard sprung beneath his feet.

“Will clear out at once.”

It was Jessop Reed who said these words brutally; and, as the brother’s eyes met in a long piercing gaze, Clive Reed knew that his enemies had him firmly by the hip, and that the next minute he must fall.

Chapter Thirty.
After the Encounter

“But, my dear boy, why not have made a fight for it?” cried the Major, as he perspired profusely in his efforts to keep up with Clive, who was striding about the garden.

“I’m going to fight for it, sir,” cried Clive impatiently; “but these matters are not settled by brute force and bayonets.”

“Well, well, no,” cried the Major; “but you gave up almost without a word.”

“Everything was against me, sir. Come: you, as a soldier, know that I was beaten by a clever bit of strategy, and that I must meet the position by something of the same kind.”

“Yes, but you were in possession.”

“I was, sir, but a majority of the shareholders decided that my management was bad, and appointed another man, so I am bound to give up.”

“But not without a struggle.”

“I am going to struggle, sir, but carefully. I cannot afford to fight against what is partly my own property.”

“But you had a great number of shares, my dear boy.”

“I did hold nearly half, sir, and I felt it my duty to help friends who had lost, and – ”

“You have ruined yourself to help me!” cried the Major passionately.

“Nonsense! there is no question of ruin in this case, sir. It is only a business of the management. I ought to have known that my brother would never sit down quietly under his disappointment; but I never thought he would be partner in such a scheme as this.”

“Then you think it was your brother who was the man that set the rumour afloat?” cried the Major.

“From his connection with, and knowledge of stocks, I now feel convinced it was.”

“The man whom I made my guest.”

“Yes,” said Clive. “He was down here, evidently as a spy, and this fellow – this solicitor, Wrigley, seems to be an old friend of his. Nice way to speak of my own brother, sir.”

“Your own brother!” cried the Major, in a towering passion; “he is a scoundrel, sir; I’d disown him, sir. He’s my enemy, sir. He has ruined me as well as you.”

“No, no, no, my dear sir. I tell you there is no question of ruin in the matter. There is the mine, and it is so enormously rich that the shareholders cannot suffer. The annoyance is, being kicked out of one’s position in the management; but, as we school-boys used to say, – ‘two can play at that game;’ and perhaps at the next board meeting I shall be able to overset Mr Jessop. Why, the scoundrel must have been in league with Sturgess, and that accounts for this fellow’s insolence to me on several occasions.”

“Of course; and a nice diabolical scheme they have hatched between them. But you shall overthrow them, Clive, my boy, that you shall. Oh, I see it all now, unbusiness-like as I am. They had that report spread, frightened the shareholders into a panic, and then bought up everything.”

“Yes, sir, that was their modus operandi.”

“And they caught all the fools, including my stupid old self,” growled the Major. “But wait a bit. I daresay I shall have a settlement with Master Jessop Reed one of these days, and when that day does come, let him look out.”

“No, Major, you will leave this to me,” said Clive quietly. “Now, then, I’m going to throw over this piece of worry, and have a calm quiet day with our darling. As I tell you, it does not interfere with my monetary position in the least, and it will save me a great deal of hard work; but to-morrow morning I must go back to town and see the other shareholders, for this state of affairs ought not to continue, though I must own that Sturgess is a clever manager, and does his work well.”

The Major unslung a satchel from his shoulder at the door.

“Why, you have been carrying that heavy lot of specimens all the time,” said Clive, smiling.

“Yes, I forgot all about them,” said the Major; and he tossed the contents out into a basket in the tiny hall.

“Lead ore,” said Clive, looking curiously at a little block of dull grey stone.

“Yes, there’s plenty of that stuff on my wild bit of mountain land. It all interests me, and of course much more since I have been a shareholder in the mine – I mean,” said the Major hastily, “since I was once.”

“You are, Major. Once for all, no more words about that. A certain number more shares have been transferred to you, and they stand as yours in the company’s books. Not another word. Ah, Dinah! I seem to have neglected you sadly. Now, no more business; the whole day is ours. To-morrow morning I must be off back to town.”

The parting was sad enough the next morning quite early, for, to Dinah, it was as if she were losing her protector for many days to come, and she could not drive away the forebodings of looming troubles as she clung to Clive after accompanying him with the Major for some distance along the mountain track leading to Blinkdale. But Clive was cheerful and bright, and at last he tore himself away, insisting upon their returning, as he would have to hasten on.

“Take care of her, Major,” he cried, “and I’ll send you plenty of letters. Keep a good heart – it will all come right in the end. Now – goodbye.”

He sprang away, and they stood watching him as he stopped from time to time to wave his hand before plunging down into a hollow, and disappearing from their sight.

They turned then, and walked back in silence to the cottage, each too much occupied with painful thoughts to attempt to speak, for a shadow seemed to have fallen over their lives which was gradually darkening; and there were moments when Dinah looked forward, and then clung spasmodically to her father’s arm, for he broke out into angry mutterings from time to time, and as she looked in his face she could see that it was black with suppressed passion.

At last they reached the river path, and the Major broke out:

“I see it all plainly enough,” he cried. “Clive was right; that scoundrel of a brother was down here as a spy, and, curse him, I entertained him for his sake. He has won round that fellow Sturgess, and they think they are going to do as they like; but if I am to be a shareholder, confound them! they shall find that I can be a sharp one too, so let them beware.”