A Dark Night's Work (13 page)

"Certainly not, without telling him her reason for doing so."

"Ah! but suppose she could not. She might not be at liberty to do so."

"I can't answer supposititious cases. I must have the facts—if facts
there are—more plainly before me before I can give an opinion. Who are
you thinking of, Ellinor?" asked he, rather abruptly.

"Oh, of no one," she answered in affright. "Why should I be thinking of
any one? I often try to plan out what I should do, or what I ought to
do, if such and such a thing happened, just as you recollect I used to
wonder if I should have presence of mind in case of fire."

"Then, after all, you yourself are the girl who is engaged, and who has
the imaginary brother who gets into disgrace?"

"Yes, I suppose so," said she, a little annoyed at having betrayed any
personal interest in the affair.

He was silent, meditating.

"There is nothing wrong in it," said she, timidly, "is there?"

"I think you had better tell me fully out what is in your mind," he
replied, kindly. "Something has happened which has suggested these
questions. Are you putting yourself in the place of any one about whom
you have been hearing lately? I know you used to do so formerly, when
you were a little girl."

"No; it was a very foolish question of mine, and I ought not to have said
anything about it. See! here is Mr. Ness overtaking us."

The clergyman joined them on the broad walk that ran by the river-side,
and the talk became general. It was a relief to Ellinor, who had not
attained her end, but who had gone far towards betraying something of her
own individual interest in the question she had asked. Ralph had been
more struck even by her manner than her words. He was sure that
something lurked behind, and had an idea of his own that it was connected
with Dunster's disappearance. But he was glad that Mr. Ness's joining
them gave him leisure to consider a little.

The end of his reflections was, that the next day, Monday, he went into
the town, and artfully learnt all he could hear about Mr Dunster's
character and mode of going on; and with still more skill he extracted
the popular opinion as to the embarrassed nature of Mr. Wilkins's
affairs—embarrassment which was generally attributed to Dunster's
disappearance with a good large sum belonging to the firm in his
possession. But Mr. Corbet thought otherwise; he had accustomed himself
to seek out the baser motives for men's conduct, and to call the result
of these researches wisdom. He imagined that Dunster had been well paid
by Mr. Wilkins for his disappearance, which was an easy way of accounting
for the derangement of accounts and loss of money that arose, in fact,
from Mr. Wilkins's extravagance of habits and growing intemperance.

On the Monday afternoon he said to Ellinor, "Mr. Ness interrupted us
yesterday in a very interesting conversation. Do you remember, love?"

Ellinor reddened and kept her head still more intently bent over a sketch
she was making.

"Yes; I recollect."

"I have been thinking about it. I still think she ought to tell her
lover that such disgrace hung over him—I mean, over the family with whom
he was going to connect himself. Of course, the only effect would be to
make him stand by her still more for her frankness."

"Oh! but, Ralph, it might perhaps be something she ought not to tell,
whatever came of her silence."

"Of course there might be all sorts of cases. Unless I knew more I could
not pretend to judge."

This was said rather more coolly. It had the desired effect. Ellinor
laid down her brush, and covered her face with her hand. After a pause,
she turned towards him and said:

"I will tell you this; and more you must not ask me. I know you are as
safe as can be. I am the girl, you are the lover, and possible shame
hangs over my father, if something—oh, so dreadful" (here she blanched),
"but not so very much his fault, is ever found out."

Though this was nothing more than he expected, though Ralph thought that
he was aware what the dreadful something might be, yet, when it was
acknowledged in words, his heart contracted, and for a moment he forgot
the intent, wistful, beautiful face, creeping close to his to read his
expression aright. But after that his presence of mind came in aid. He
took her in his arms and kissed her; murmuring fond words of sympathy,
and promises of faith, nay, even of greater love than before, since
greater need she might have of that love. But somehow he was glad when
the dressing-bell rang, and in the solitude of his own room he could
reflect on what he had heard; for the intelligence had been a great shock
to him, although he had fancied that his morning's inquiries had prepared
him for it.

Ralph Corbet found it a very difficult thing to keep down his curiosity
during the next few days. It was a miserable thing to have Ellinor's
unspoken secret severing them like a phantom. But he had given her his
word that he would make no further inquiries from her. Indeed, he
thought he could well enough make out the outline of past events; still,
there was too much left to conjecture for his mind not to be always busy
on the subject. He felt inclined to probe Mr. Wilkins in their after-
dinner conversation, in which his host was frank and lax enough on many
subjects. But once touch on the name of Dunster and Mr. Wilkins sank
into a kind of suspicious depression of spirits; talking little, and with
evident caution; and from time to time shooting furtive glances at his
interlocutor's face. Ellinor was resolutely impervious to any attempts
of his to bring his conversation with her back to the subject which more
and more engrossed Ralph Corbet's mind. She had done her duty, as she
understood it; and had received assurances which she was only too glad to
believe fondly with all the tender faith of her heart. Whatever came to
pass, Ralph's love would still be hers; nor was he unwarned of what might
come to pass in some dread future day. So she shut her eyes to what
might be in store for her (and, after all, the chances were immeasurably
in her favour); and she bent herself with her whole strength into
enjoying the present. Day by day Mr. Corbet's spirits flagged. He was,
however, so generally uniform in the tenor of his talk—never very merry,
and always avoiding any subject that might call out deep feeling either
on his own or any one else's part, that few people were aware of his
changes of mood. Ellinor felt them, though she would not acknowledge
them: it was bringing her too much face to face with the great terror of
her life.

One morning he announced the fact of his brother's approaching marriage;
the wedding was hastened on account of some impending event in the duke's
family; and the home letter he had received that day was to bid his
presence at Stokely Castle, and also to desire him to be at home by a
certain time not very distant, in order to look over the requisite legal
papers, and to give his assent to some of them. He gave many reasons why
this unlooked-for departure of his was absolutely necessary; but no one
doubted it. He need not have alleged such reiterated excuses. The truth
was, he was restrained and uncomfortable at Ford Bank ever since
Ellinor's confidence. He could not rightly calculate on the most
desirable course for his own interests, while his love for her was
constantly being renewed by her sweet presence. Away from her, he could
judge more wisely. Nor did he allege any false reasons for his
departure; but the sense of relief to himself was so great at his recall
home, that he was afraid of having it perceived by others; and so took
the very way which, if others had been as penetrating as himself, would
have betrayed him.

Mr. Wilkins, too, had begun to feel the restraint of Ralph's grave
watchful presence. Ellinor was not strong enough to be married; nor was
the promised money forthcoming if she had been. And to have a fellow
dawdling about the house all day, sauntering into the flower-garden,
peering about everywhere, and having a kind of right to put all manner of
unexpected questions, was anything but agreeable. It was only Ellinor
that clung to his presence—clung as though some shadow of what might
happen before they met again had fallen on her spirit. As soon as he had
left the house she flew up to a spare bedroom window, to watch for the
last glimpse of the fly which was taking him into the town. And then she
kissed the part of the pane on which his figure, waving an arm out of the
carriage window, had last appeared; and went down slowly to gather
together all the things he had last touched—the pen he had mended, the
flower he had played with, and to lock them up in the little quaint
cabinet that had held her treasures since she was a tiny child.

Miss Monro was, perhaps, very wise in proposing the translation of a
difficult part of Dante for a distraction to Ellinor. The girl went
meekly, if reluctantly, to the task set her by her good governess, and by-
and-by her mind became braced by the exertion.

Ralph's people were not very slow in discovering that something had not
gone on quite smoothly with him at Ford Bank. They knew his ways and
looks with family intuition, and could easily be certain thus far. But
not even his mother's skilfulest wiles, nor his favourite sister's
coaxing, could obtain a word or a hint; and when his father, the squire,
who had heard the opinions of the female part of the family on this head,
began, in his honest blustering way, in their
tete-a-tetes
after
dinner, to hope that Ralph was thinking better than to run his head into
that confounded Hamley attorney's noose, Ralph gravely required Mr.
Corbet to explain his meaning, which he professed not to understand so
worded. And when the squire had, with much perplexity, put it into the
plain terms of hoping that his son was thinking of breaking off his
engagement to Miss Wilkins, Ralph coolly asked him if he was aware that,
in that case, he should lose all title to being a man of honour, and
might have an action brought against him for breach of promise?

Yet not the less for all this was the idea in his mind as a future
possibility.

Before very long the Corbet family moved
en masse
to Stokely Castle for
the wedding. Of course, Ralph associated on equal terms with the
magnates of the county, who were the employers of Ellinor's father, and
spoke of him always as "Wilkins," just as they spoke of the butler as
"Simmons." Here, too, among a class of men high above local gossip, and
thus unaware of his engagement, he learnt the popular opinion respecting
his future father-in-law; an opinion not entirely respectful, though
intermingled with a good deal of personal liking. "Poor Wilkins," as
they called him, "was sadly extravagant for a man in his position; had no
right to spend money, and act as if he were a man of independent
fortune." His habits of life were criticised; and pity, not free from
blame, was bestowed upon him for the losses he had sustained from his
late clerk's disappearance and defalcation. But what could be expected
if a man did not choose to attend to his own business?

The wedding went by, as grand weddings do, without let or hindrance,
according to the approved pattern. A Cabinet minister honoured it with
his presence, and, being a distant relation of the Brabants, remained for
a few days after the grand occasion. During this time he became rather
intimate with Ralph Corbet; many of their tastes were in common. Ralph
took a great interest in the manner of working out political questions;
in the balance and state of parties; and had the right appreciation of
the exact qualities on which the minister piqued himself. In return, the
latter was always on the look-out for promising young men, who, either by
their capability of speech-making or article-writing, might advance the
views of his party. Recognising the powers he most valued in Ralph, he
spared no pains to attach him to his own political set. When they
separated, it was with the full understanding that they were to see a
good deal of each other in London.

The holiday Ralph allowed himself was passing rapidly away; but, before
he returned to his chambers and his hard work, he had promised to spend a
few more days with Ellinor; and it suited him to go straight from the
duke's to Ford Bank. He left the castle soon after breakfast—the
luxurious, elegant breakfast, served by domestics who performed their
work with the accuracy and perfection of machines. He arrived at Ford
Bank before the man-servant had quite finished the dirtier part of his
morning's work, and he came to the glass-door in his striped cotton
jacket, a little soiled, and rolling up his working apron. Ellinor was
not yet strong enough to get up and go out and gather flowers for the
rooms, so those left from yesterday were rather faded; in short, the
contrast from entire completeness and exquisite freshness of arrangement
struck forcibly upon Ralph's perceptions, which were critical rather than
appreciative; and, as his affections were always subdued to his
intellect, Ellinor's lovely face and graceful figure flying to meet him
did not gain his full approval, because her hair was dressed in an old-
fashioned way, her waist was either too long or too short, her sleeves
too full or too tight for the standard of fashion to which his eye had
been accustomed while scanning the bridesmaids and various highborn
ladies at Stokely Castle.

But, as he had always piqued himself upon being able to put on one side
all superficial worldliness in his chase after power, it did not do for
him to shrink from seeing and facing the incompleteness of moderate
means. Only marriage upon moderate means was gradually becoming more
distasteful to him.

Nor did his subsequent intercourse with Lord Bolton, the Cabinet minister
before mentioned, tend to reconcile him to early matrimony. At Lord
Bolton's house he met polished and intellectual society, and all that
smoothness in ministering to the lower wants in eating and drinking which
seems to provide that the right thing shall always be at the right place
at the right time, so that the want of it shall never impede for an
instant the feast of wit or reason; while, if he went to the houses of
his friends, men of the same college and standing as himself, who had
been seduced into early marriages, he was uncomfortably aware of numerous
inconsistencies and hitches in their
menages
. Besides, the idea of the
possible disgrace that might befall the family with which he thought of
allying himself haunted him with the tenacity and also with the
exaggeration of a nightmare, whenever he had overworked himself in his
search after available and profitable knowledge, or had a fit of
indigestion after the exquisite dinners he was learning so well to
appreciate.