A hot afternoon in July. Jane Halliburton was in the drawing-room with her mother, both sewing busily. It was a large room, with three windows, more pleasant than the dining-room beneath, and they were fond of sitting in it in summer. Jane had been married some three or four months now, but looked the same young, simple, placid girl that she ever did; and, but for the wedding-ring upon her finger, no stranger would have supposed her to be a wife.
An excellent arrangement had been arrived at—that she and her husband should remain inmates of Mr. Tait's house; at any rate, for the present. When plans were being discussed, before making the necessary arrangements for the marriage, and Mr. Halliburton was spending all his superfluous minutes hunting for a suitable house near to the old home, and not too dear, Francis Tait had given utterance to a remark—"I wonder who we shall get here in Mr. Halliburton's place, if papa takes any one else?" and Margaret, looking up from her drawing, had added, "Why can't Mr. Halliburton and Jane stay on with us? It would be so much pleasanter."
It was the first time the idea had been presented in any shape to the rector, and it seemed to go straight to his wishes. He put down a book he was reading, and spoke impulsively. "It would be the best thing; the very best thing! Would you like it, Halliburton?"
"I should, sir; very much. But it is Jane who must be consulted, not me."
Jane, her pretty cheeks covered with blushes, looked up and said she should like it also; she had thought of it, but had not liked to mention it, either to her mother or to Mr. Halliburton. "I have been quite troubled to think what mamma and the house will do without me," she added, ingenuously.
"Let Jane alone for thinking and planning, when difficulties are in the way," laughed Margaret. "My opinion is that we shall never get another pudding, or papa have his black silk Sunday hose darned, if Jane goes from us."
Mrs. Tait burst into tears. Like Margaret she was a bad manager, and had mourned over Jane's departure, secretly believing she should be half worried to death. "Oh! Jane, dear, say you'll remain!" she cried. "It will be such a relief to me! Margaret's of no earthly use, and everything will fall on my shoulders. Edgar, I hope you will remain with us! It will be pleasant for all. You know the house is sufficiently large."
And remain they did. The wedding took place at Easter, and Mr. Halliburton took Jane all the way to Dover to see the sea—a long way in those days—and kept her there for a week. And then they came back again, Jane to her old home duties, just as though she were Jane Tait still, and Mr. Halliburton to his teaching.
It was July now and hot weather; and Mrs. Tait and Jane were sewing in the drawing-room. They were working for Margaret. Mr. Halliburton, through some of his teaching connections, had obtained an excellent situation for Margaret in a first-rate school. Margaret was to enter as resident pupil, and receive every advantage towards the completion of her own education; in return for which she was to teach the younger pupils music, and pay ten pounds a year. Such an arrangement was almost unknown then, though it has been common enough since, and Mr. and Mrs. Tait thought of it very highly. Margaret Tait was only sixteen; but, as if in contrast to Jane, who looked younger than her actual years, Margaret looked older. In appearance, in manners, and also in advancement, Margaret might have been eighteen.
She was to enter the school, which was near Harrow, in another week, at the termination of the holidays, and Mrs. Tait and Jane had their hands full, getting her things ready.
"Was this slip measured, mamma?" Jane suddenly asked, after attentively regarding the work she had on her knee.
"I think so," replied Mrs. Tait. "Why?"
"It looks too short for Margaret. At least it will be too short when I have finished this fourth tuck. It must have been measured, though, for here are the pins in it. Perhaps Margaret measured it herself."
"Then of course it must be measured again. There's no trusting to anything Margaret does in the shape of work. And yet, how clever she is at music and drawing—in fact at all her studies!" added Mrs. Tait. "It is well, Jane, that we are not all gifted alike."
"I think it is," acquiesced Jane. "I will go up to Margaret's room for one of her slips, and measure this."
"You need not do that," said Mrs. Tait. "There's an old slip of hers amongst the work on the sofa."
Jane found the slip, and measured the one in her hand by it. "Yes, mamma! It is just the length without the tuck. Then I must take out what I have done of it. It is very little."
"Come hither, Jane. Your eyes are younger than mine. Is not that your papa coming towards us from the far end of the square?"
Jane approached the window nearest to her, not the one at which Mrs. Tait was sitting. "Oh, yes, that's papa. You might tell him by his dress, if by nothing else, mamma."
"I could tell him by himself, if I could see," said Mrs. Tait, quaintly. "I don't know how it is, Jane, but my sight grows very imperfect for a distance."
"Never mind that, mamma, so that you can continue to see well to work and read," said Jane cheerily. "How fast papa is walking!"
Very fast for the Rev. Francis Tait, who was not in general a quick walker. He entered his house, and came up to the drawing-room. He had not been well for the last few days, and threw himself into a chair, wearily.
"Jane, is there any of that beef-tea left, that was made for me yesterday?"
"Yes, papa," she said, springing up that she might get it for him. "I will bring it to you immediately."
"Stay, stay, child, not so fast," he interrupted. "It is not for myself. I can do without it. I have been pained by a sad sight," he added, looking at his wife. "There's that daughter of the Widow Booth's come home again. I called in upon them and there she was, lying on a mattress, dying from famine, as I verily believe. She returned last night in a dreadful state of exhaustion, the mother says, and has had nothing within her lips since but cold water. They tried her with solid food, but she could not swallow it. That beef-tea will just do for her. Have it warmed, Jane."
"She is a sinful, ill-doing girl, Francis," remarked Mrs. Tait, "and does not really deserve compassion."
"All the more reason, wife, that she should be rescued from death," said the rector, almost sternly. "The good may dare to die: the evil may not. Don't waste time, Jane. Put it into a bottle, warm, and I'll carry it round."
"Is there nothing else we can send her, papa, that may do for her equally well?" asked Jane. "A little wine, perhaps? There is very little of the beef-tea left, and it ought to be kept for you."
"Never mind; I wish to take it to her," said the rector. "A little wine afterwards may do her good."
Jane hastened to the kitchen, disturbing a servant who was doing something over the fire. "Susan, papa wants the remainder of the beef-tea warmed. Will you make haste and do it, whilst I search for a bottle to put it into? It is to be taken round to Charity Booth."
"What! is she back again?" exclaimed the servant, slightingly, which betrayed that her estimation of Charity Booth was no higher than was that of her mistress. "It's just like the master," she continued, proceeding to do what was required of her. "It's not often that anything's made for himself; but if it is, he never gets the benefit of it; he's sure to drop across somebody that he fancies wants it worse than he does. It's not right, Miss Jane."
Jane was searching a cupboard, and brought forth a clean green bottle, which held about half-a-pint. "This will be quite large enough, I think."
"I should think it would!" grumbled Susan, who could not be brought to look upon the giving away of her master's own peculiar property as anything but a personal grievance. "There's barely a gill of it left, and he ought to have had it himself, Miss Jane."
"Susan," she said, turning her bright face laughingly towards the woman, "it is a good thing that you went to church and saw me married, or I might think you meant to reflect upon me. How can I be 'Miss Jane,' with this ring on?"
"It's of no good my trying to remember it, ma'am. All the parish knows you are Mrs. Halliburton, fast enough; but it don't come ready to me."
Jane laughed pleasantly. "Where is Mary?" she asked.
"In the back room, going on with some of Miss Margaret's things. It's cooler, sitting there, than in this hot kitchen."
Jane carried the little bottle of beef-tea to her father, and gave it into his hand. He looked very pale, and rose from his chair slowly.
"Oh, papa, you do not seem well!" she involuntarily exclaimed. "Let me run and beat you up an egg. I will not be a minute."
"I can't wait, child. And I question if I could eat it, were it ready before me. I do not feel well, as you say."
"You ought to have taken this beef-tea yourself, papa. It was made for you."
Jane could not help laying a stress upon the word. Mr. Tait placed his hand gently upon her smoothly parted hair. "Jane, child, had I thought of myself before others throughout life, how should I have been following my Master's precepts?"
She ran down the stairs before him, opening the front door for him to pass through, that even that little exertion should be spared him. A loving, dutiful daughter was Jane; and it is probable that the thought of her worth especially crossed the mind of the rector at that moment. "God bless you, my child!" he aspirated, as he passed her.
Jane watched him across the square. Their house, though not actually in the square, commanded a view of it. Then she returned upstairs to her mother. "Papa thinks he will not lose time," she observed. "He is walking fast."
"I should call it running," responded Mrs. Tait, who had seen the speed from the window. "But, my dear, he'll do no good with that badly conducted Charity Booth."
About an hour passed away, and it was drawing towards dinner-time. Jane and Mrs. Tait were busy as ever, when Mr. Halliburton's well-known knock was heard.
"Edgar is home early this morning!" Jane exclaimed.
He came springing up the stairs, two at a time, in great haste, opened the drawing-room door, and just put in his head. Mrs. Tait, sitting with her back to the door and her face to the window, did not turn round, and consequently did not see him. Jane did; and was startled. Every vestige of colour had forsaken his face.
"Oh, Edgar! You are ill!"
"Ill! Not I," affecting to speak gaily. "I want you for a minute, Jane."
Mrs. Tait had looked round at Jane's exclamation, but Mr. Halliburton's face was then withdrawn. He was standing outside the door when Jane went out. He did not speak; but took her hand in silence and drew her into the back room, which was their own bedroom, and closed the door. Jane's face had grown as white as his.
"My darling, I did not mean to alarm you," he said, holding her to him. "I thought you had a brave heart, Jane. I thought that if I had a little unpleasant news to impart it would be best to tell you, that you may help me break it to the rest."
Jane's heart was not feeling very brave. "What is it?" she asked, scarcely able to speak the words from her ghastly lips.
"Jane," he said, tenderly and gravely, "before I say any more, you must strive for calmness."
"It is not about yourself! You are not ill?"
The question seemed superfluous. Mr. Halliburton was evidently not ill; but he was agitated. Jane was frightened and perplexed: not a glimpse of the real truth crossed her. "Tell me what it is at once, Edgar," she said, in a calmer tone. "I can bear certainty better than suspense."
"Why, yes, I think you are becoming brave already," he answered, looking straight into her eyes and smiling—which was intended to reassure her. "I must have my wife show herself a woman to-day; not a child. See what a bungler I am! I thought to tell you all quietly and smoothly, without alarming you; and see what I have done!—startled you to terror."
Jane smiled faintly. She knew all this was only the precursor of tidings that must be very ill and grievous. By a great effort she schooled herself to calmness. Mr. Halliburton continued:
"One, whom you and I love very much, has—has—met with an accident, Jane."
Her fears went straight to the right quarter at once. With that one exception by her side, there was no one she loved as she loved her father.
"Papa?"
"Yes. We must break it to Mrs. Tait."
Her heart beat wildly against his hand, and the livid hue was once more overspreading her face. But she strove urgently for calmness: he whispered to her of its necessity for her own sake.
"Edgar! is it death?"
It was death; but he would not tell her so yet. He plunged into the attendant details.
"He was hastening along with a small bottle in his hand, Jane. It contained something good for one of the sick poor, I am sure, for he was in their neighbourhood. Suddenly he was observed to fall; and the spectators raised him and took him to a doctor's. That doctor, unfortunately, was not at home, and they took him to another, so that time was lost. He was quite unconscious."
"But you do not tell me!" she wailed. "Is he dead?"
Mr. Halliburton asked himself a question—What good would be done by delaying the truth? He thought he had performed his task very badly. "Jane, Jane!" he whispered, "I can only hope to help you to bear it better than I have broken it to you."
She could not shed tears in that first awful moment: physically and mentally she leaned on him for support. "How can we tell my mother?"
It was necessary that Mrs. Tait should be told, and without delay. Even then the body was being conveyed to the house. By a curious coincidence, Mr. Halliburton had been passing the last doctor's surgery at the very moment the crowd was round its doors. Unusual business had called him there; or it was a street he did not enter once in a year. "The parson has fallen down in a fit," said some of them, recognizing and arresting him.
"The parson!" he repeated. "What! Mr. Tait?"
"Sure enough," said they. And Mr. Halliburton pressed into the surgeon's house just as the examination was over.
"The heart, no doubt, sir," said the doctor to him.
"He surely is not dead?"
"Quite dead. He must have died instantaneously."
The news had been wafted to the mob outside, and they were already taking a shutter from its hinges. "I will go on first and prepare the family," said Mr. Halliburton to them. "Give me a quarter of an hour's start, and then come on."
So that he had only a quarter of an hour for it all. His thoughts naturally turned to his wife: not simply to spare her alarm and pain, so far as he might, but he believed her, young as she was, to possess more calmness and self-control than Mrs. Tait. As he sped to the house he rehearsed his task; and might have accomplished it better but for his tell-tale face. "Jane," he whispered, "let this be your consolation ever: he was ready to go."
"Oh yes!" she answered, bursting into a storm of most distressing tears. "If any one here was ever fit for heaven, it was my dear father."
"Hark!" exclaimed Mr. Halliburton.
Some noise had arisen downstairs—a sound of voices speaking in undertones. There could be no doubt that people had come to the house with the news, and were imparting it to the two trembling servants.
"There's not a moment to be lost, Jane."
How Jane dried her eyes and suppressed all temporary sign of grief and emotion, she could not tell. A sense of duty was strong within her, and she knew that the most imperative duty of the present moment was the support and solace of her mother. She and her husband entered the drawing-room together, and Mrs. Tait turned with a smile to Mr. Halliburton.
"What secrets have you and Jane been talking together?" Then, catching sight of Jane's white and quivering lips, she broke into a cry of agony. "Jane! what has happened? What have you both come to tell me?"
The tears poured from Jane's fair young face as she clasped her mother fondly to her, tenderly whispering: "Dearest mamma, you must lean upon us now! We will all love you and take care of you as we have never yet done."
Mrs. Halliburton sat in her chair, still enough except for the wailing cry which had just escaped her lips. Her husband would not look at her in that moment. His gaze was bent on the fire, and his cheek lay in his hand. As she cried out, he stretched forth his other hand and let it fall lightly upon hers.
"Jane, had I thought you would look at the dark side of the picture, I should have hesitated to tell you. Why, my dear child, the very fact of my telling you at all, should convince you that there's nothing very serious the matter," he added, in cheering tones of reasoning. Now that he had spoken, he deemed it well to make the very best he could of it.
"You say they will not insure your life?"
"Well, Jane, perhaps that expression was not a correct one. They have not declined as yet to do so; but Dr. Carrington says he cannot give the necessary certificate as to my being a thoroughly sound and healthy man."
"Then you did go up to Dr. Carrington?"
"I did. Forgive me, Jane: I could not enter upon it before all the children."
She leaned over and laid her head upon his shoulder. "Tell me all about it, Edgar," she whispered; "as much as you know yourself."
"I have told you nearly all, Jane. I saw Dr. Carrington, and he asked me a great many questions, and examined me here"—touching his chest. "He fancies the organs are not sound, and declined giving the certificate."
"That your chest is not sound?" asked Jane.
"He said the lungs."
"Ah!" she uttered. "What else did he say?"
"Well, he said nothing about heart, or liver, or any other vital part, so I conclude they are all right, and that there was nothing to say," replied Mr. Halliburton, attempting to be cheerful. "I could have told him my brain was strong enough had he asked about that, for I'm sure it gets its full share of work. I need not have mentioned this to you at all, Jane, but for a perplexing bit of advice the doctor gave me."
Jane sat straight in her chair again, and looked at Mr. Halliburton. The colour was beginning to return to her face. He continued:
"Dr. Carrington earnestly recommends me to remove from London. Indeed—he said—that it was necessary—if I would get well. No wonder that you found my manner absent," he continued very rapidly after his hesitation, "with that unpalatable counsel to digest."
"Did he think you very ill?" she breathed.
"He did not say I was 'very ill,' Jane. I am not very ill, as you may see for yourself. My dear, what he said was that my lungs were—were——"
"Diseased?" she put in.
"Diseased. Yes, that was it," he truthfully replied. "It is the term that medical men apply when they wish to indicate delicacy. And he strenuously recommended me to leave London."
"For how long? Did he say?"
"He said for good."
Jane felt startled. "How could it be done, Edgar?"
"In truth I do not know. If I leave London I leave my living behind me. Now you see why I was so absorbed at tea-time. When you saw me go out, I was going round to Allen's."
"And what does he say?" she eagerly interrupted.
"Oh, he seems to think it a mere nothing, compared with Dr. Carrington. He agreed with him on one point—that I ought to live out of London."
"Edgar, I will tell you what I think must be done," said Jane, after a pause. "I have not had time to reflect much upon it: but it strikes me that it would be advisable for you to see another doctor, and take his opinion: some man who is clever in affections of the lungs. Go to him to-morrow, without any delay. Should he say that you must leave London, of course we must leave it, no matter what the sacrifice."
The advice corresponded with Mr. Halliburton's own opinion, and he resolved to follow it. A conviction amounting to a certainty was upon him, that, go to what doctor he might, the fiat would be the same as Dr. Carrington's. He did not say so to Jane. On the contrary, he spoke of these insurance-office doctors as being over-fastidious in the interests of the office; and he tried to deceive his own heart with the sophistry.
"Shall you apply to another office to insure your life?" Jane asked.
"I would, if I thought it would not be useless."
"You think it would be useless?"
"The offices all keep their own doctors, and those doctors, it is my belief, are unnecessarily particular. I should call them crotchety, Jane."
"I think it must amount to this," said Jane; "that if there is anything seriously the matter with you, no office will be found to do it; but if the affection is only trifling or temporary you may be accepted."
"That is about it. Oh, Jane!" he added, with an irrepressible burst of anguish, "what would I not give to have insured my life before this came upon me! All those past years! They seem to have been allowed to run to waste, when I might have been using them to lay up in store for the children!"
How many are there of us who, looking back, can feel that our past years, in some way or other, have not been allowed to run to waste?
What a sleepless night that was for him! What a sleepless night for his wife! Both rose in the morning equally unrefreshed.
"To what doctor will you go?" Jane inquired as she was dressing.
"I have been thinking of Dr. Arnold of Finsbury," he replied.
"Yes, you could not go to a better. Edgar, you will let me accompany you?"
"No, no, Jane. Your accompanying me would do no good. You could not go into the room with me."
She saw the force of the objection. "I shall be so very anxious," she said, in a low tone.
He laughed at her; he was willing to make light of it if it might ease her fears. "My dear, I will come home at once and report to you: I will borrow Jack's seven-leagued boots, that I may come to you the quicker."
"You know that I shall be anxious," she repeated, feeling vexed.
"Jane," he said, his tone changing: "I see that you are more anxious already than is good for you. It is not well that you should be so."
"I wish I could be with you! I wish I could hear, as you will, Dr. Arnold's opinion from his own lips!" was all she answered.
"I will faithfully repeat it to you," said Mr. Halliburton.
"Faithfully—word for word? On your honour?"
"Yes, Jane, I will. You have my promise. Good news I shall be only too glad to tell you; and, should it be the worst, it will be necessary that you should know it."
"You must be there before ten o'clock," she observed; "otherwise there will be little chance of seeing him."
"I shall be there by nine, Jane. To spare time later would interfere too much with my day's work."
A thought crossed Jane's mind—if the fiat were unfavourable what would become of his day's work then—all his days? But she did not utter it.
"Oh, papa," cried Janey at breakfast, "was it not a beautiful party! Did you ever enjoy yourself so much before?"
"I don't suppose you ever did, Janey," he replied, in kindly tones.
"No, that I never did. Alice Harvey's birthday comes in summer, and she says she knows her mamma will let her give just such another! Mamma!"—turning to Mrs. Halliburton.
"Well, Jane?"
"Shall you let me have a new frock for it? You know I tore mine last night."
"All in good time, Janey. We don't know where we may all be then."
No, they did not. A foreshadowing of it was already upon the spirit of Mrs. Halliburton. Not upon the children: they were spared it as yet.
"Do not be surprised if you see me waiting for you when you come out of Dr. Arnold's," said Jane to her husband, in low tones, as he was going out.
"But, Jane, why? Indeed, I think it would be foolish of you to come. My dear, I never knew you like this before."
Perhaps not. But when, before, had there been cause for this apprehension?
Jane watched him depart. Calm as she contrived to remain outwardly, she was in a terribly restless, nervous state; little accustomed as she was so to give way. A sick feeling was within her, a miserable sensation of suspense; and she could scarcely battle with it. You may have felt the same, in the dread approach of some great calamity. The reading over, Janey got her books about, as usual. Mrs. Halliburton took charge of her education in every branch, excepting music: for that she had a master. She would not send Jane to school. The child sat down to her books, and was surprised at seeing her mother come into the room with her things on.
"Mamma! Are you going out?"
"For a little time, Jane."
"Oh, let me go! Let me go too!"
"Not this morning, dear. You will have plenty of work—preparing the lessons that you could not prepare last night."
"So I shall," said Janey. "I thought perhaps you meant to excuse them, mamma."
It was almost impossible for Jane to remain in the house, in her present state of agitation. She knew that it did appear absurdly foolish to go after her husband; but, walk somewhere she must: how could she turn a different way from that which he had taken? It was some distance to Finsbury; half an hour's walk at least. Should she go, or should she not, she asked herself as she went out of the house. She began to think that she might have remained at home had she exercised self-control. She had a great mind to turn back, and was slackening her pace, when she caught sight of Mr. Allen at his surgery window.
An impulse came over her that she would go in and ask his opinion of her husband. She opened the door and entered. The surgeon was making up some pills.
"You are out early, Mrs. Halliburton!"
"Yes," she replied. "Mr. Halliburton has gone to Finsbury Square to see Dr. Arnold, and I——Do you think him very ill?" she abruptly broke off.
"I do not, myself. Carrington——Did you know he had been to Dr. Carrington?" asked Mr. Allen, almost fearing he might be betraying secrets.
"I know all about it. I know what the doctor said. Do you think Dr. Carrington was mistaken?"
"In a measure. There's no doubt the lungs are affected, but I believe not to the grave extent assumed by Dr. Carrington."
"He assumed, then, that they were affected to a grave extent?" she hastily repeated, her heart beating faster.
"I thought you said you knew all about it, Mrs. Halliburton?"
"So I do. He may possibly not have told me the very worst said by Dr. Carrington; but he told me quite sufficient. Mr. Allen, you tell me—do you think that there is a chance of his recovery?"
"Most certainly I do," warmly replied the surgeon. "Every chance, Mrs. Halliburton. I see no reason whatever why he should not keep as well as he is now, and live for years, provided he takes care of himself. It appears that Dr. Carrington very strongly urged his removing into the country; he went so far as to say that it was his only chance for life—and in that I think he went too far again. But the country would undoubtedly do for him what London will not."
"You think that he ought to remove to the country?" she inquired, showing no sign of the terror those incautious words brought her—"his only chance for life."
"I do. If it be possible for him to manage his affairs so as to get away, I should say let him do so by all means."
"It must be done, you know, Mr. Allen, if it is essential."
"In my judgment it should be done. Many and many a time I have said to him myself, 'It's a pity but that you could be out of this heavy London!' Fogs affect him, and smoke affects him—the air altogether affects him: and I only wonder it has not told upon him before. As Dr. Carrington observed to him, there are some constitutions which somehow will not thrive here."
Mrs. Halliburton rose with a sigh. "I am glad you do not think so very seriously of him," she breathed.
"I do not think seriously of him at all," was the surgeon's answer. "I confess that he is not strong, and that he must have care. The pure air of the country, and relaxation from some of his most pressing work, may do wonders for him. If I might advise, I should say, Let no pecuniary considerations keep him here. And that is very disinterested advice, Mrs. Halliburton," concluded the doctor, laughing, "for, in losing you, I should lose both friends and patients."
Jane went out. Those ominous words were still ringing in her ears—"his only chance for life."
Forcing herself to self-control, she did not go to meet Mr. Halliburton. She returned home and took off her things, and gave what attention she could to Jane's lessons. But none can tell the suspense that was agitating her: the ever-restless glances she cast to the window, to see him pass. By-and-by she went and stood there.
At last she saw him coming along in the distance. She would have liked to fly to meet him—to say, What is the news? but she did not. More patience, and then, when he came in at the front door, she left the room she was in, and went with him into the drawing-room, her face white as death.
He saw how agitated she was, strive as she would for calmness. He stood looking at her with a smile.
"Well, Jane, it is not so very formidable, after all."
Her face grew hot, and her heart bounded on. "What does Dr. Arnold say? You know, Edgar, you promised me the truth without disguise."
"You shall have it, Jane. Dr. Arnold's opinion of me is not unfavourable. That the lungs are to a certain extent affected, is indisputable, and he thinks they have been so for some time. But he sees nothing to indicate present danger to life. He believes that I may grow into an old man yet."
Jane breathed freely. A word of earnest thanks went up from her heart.
"With proper diet—he has given me certain rules for living—and pure air and sunshine, he considers that I have really little to fear. I told you, Jane, those insurance doctors make the worst of things."
"Dr. Arnold, then, recommends the country?" observed Jane, paying no attention to the last remark.
"Very strongly. Almost as strongly as Dr. Carrington."
Jane lifted her eyes to her husband's face. "Dr. Carrington said, you know, that it was your only chance of life."
"Not quite as bad as that, Jane," he returned, never supposing but he must himself have let the remark slip, and wondering how he came to do so. "What Dr. Carrington said was, that it was London versus life."
"It is the same thing, Edgar. And now, what is to be done? Of course we have no alternative; into the country we must go. The question is, where?"
"Ay, that is the question," he answered. "Not only where, but what to do? I cannot drop down into a fresh place, and expect teaching to surround me at once, as if it had been waiting for me. But I have not time to talk now. Only fancy! it is half-past ten."
Mr. Halliburton went out and Jane remained, fastened as it were to her chair. A hundred perplexing plans and schemes were already working in her brain.
For nine weeks Mr. Halliburton never left his bed. His wife was worn to a shadow; what with waiting upon him, and battling with her anxiety. Her body was weary, her heart was sick. Do you know the cost of illness? Jane knew it then.
In two weeks more he could leave his easy-chair and crawl about the room; and by that time he was all eagerness to commence his operations for the future.
"I must have some cards printed, Jane," he cried, one morning. "'Mr. Halliburton, Professor of Classics and Mathematics, late of King's Col—'—or should it be simply 'Edgar Halliburton?'" he broke off, to deliberate. "I wonder what the custom may be, down here?"
"I think you should wait until you are stronger, before you order your cards," was Jane's reply.
"But I can be getting things in train, Jane. I have been—how many weeks is it now?"
"Eleven."
"To be sure. It was June when we came; it is now September. I have been obliged to neglect the boys' lessons, too!"
"They have been very good and quiet; have gone on with their lessons themselves. If we have trouble in other ways, we have a blessing in our children, Edgar. They are thoroughly loving and dutiful."
"I don't know the ordinary terms of the neighbourhood," he resumed, after an interval of silence. "And—I wonder if people will want references? Jane"—after another silence—"you must put your things on, and go to Mrs. Dare's."
"To Mrs. Dare's!" she echoed. "Now? I don't know her."
"Never mind about not knowing her," he eagerly continued. "She is my cousin. You must ask whether they will allow themselves to be referred to. Peach will allow it also, I am quite certain. Do go, Jane."
Invalids in the weak state of Mr. Halliburton are apt to be restlessly impatient when the mind is set upon any plan or project. Jane found that it would vex him much if she declined to go to Mrs. Dare, and she prepared for the visit. Patience directed her to their residence.
It was situated at the opposite end of Helstonleigh. A handsome house, inclosed in a high wall, and bearing the imposing title of "Pomeranian Knoll." Jane entered the iron gates, walked round the carriage drive that inclosed the lawn, and rang the house bell. A showy footman in light blue livery, with a bunch of cords on his shoulder, answered it.
"Can I see Mrs. Dare?"
"What name, ma'am?"
Jane gave in one of her visiting cards, wondering whether that was not too grand a proceeding, considering the errand upon which she had come. She was shown into an elegant room, to the presence of Mrs. Dare. That lady was in a costly morning dress, with chains, rings, bracelets, and other glittering jewellery about her: as she had worn the evening you saw her beside Mr. Cooper's death-bed.
"Mrs. Halliburton?" she was repeating in doubt, when Jane entered, her eyes strained on the card. "What Mrs. Halliburton?" she added, not very civilly, turning her eyes upon Jane.
Jane explained. The wife of Edgar Halliburton, Mrs. Dare's cousin.
Mrs. Dare's presence of mind wholly forsook her. She grew deathly white; she caught at a chair for support; she was utterly unable to speak or to conceal her agitation. Jane could only look at her in amazement, wondering whether she was seized with sudden illness.
A few moments and she recovered herself. She took a seat, motioned Jane to another, and asked, as she might have asked of any stranger, what her business might be. Jane explained it, somewhat at length.
Mrs. Dare's surprise was great. She could not or would not understand; and her face flushed a deep red, and again grew deadly pale. "Edgar Halliburton come to live in Helstonleigh!" she repeated. "And you say you are his wife?"
"I am his wife," was the reply of Jane, spoken with quiet dignity.
"What is it that you say he has in view, in coming here?"
"I beg your pardon; I thought I had explained." And Jane went over the ground again—why he had been obliged to leave London, and his reasons for settling in Helstonleigh.
"You could not have come to a worse place," said Mrs. Dare, who appeared to be annoyed almost beyond repression. "Masters of all sorts are so plentiful here that they tread on each other's heels."
Discouraging news! And Jane's heart beat fast on hearing it. "My husband thought you and Mr. Dare would kindly interest yourselves for him. He knows that Mr. Peach will——"
"No," interrupted Mrs. Dare, in decisive tones. "For Edgar Halliburton's own sake I must decline to recommend him; or, indeed, to interfere at all. It would only encourage fallacious hopes. Masters are here in abundance—I speak of private masters; they don't find half enough to do. Schools are also plentiful. The best thing will be to go to some place where there is a better opening, and not to settle himself here at all!"
"But we have already settled here," replied Jane.
A thought suddenly struck Mrs. Dare. "It can never be Edgar who has taken Mr. Ashley's cottage in the London Road? I remember the name was said to be Halliburton."
"The same. It was let to us by Mr. Dare's clerk."
Mrs. Dare sat biting her lips. That she was grievously annoyed was evident, but in deference to good manners, which were partially returning to her, she strove to repress its signs. "I presume your husband is poor, Mrs. Halliburton?"
"We are very poor."
"It is generally the case with teachers, as I have observed. Well, I can only give one answer to your application—that we must decline all interference. I hope Edgar will not think of applying again to us upon the subject."
Jane rose. Mrs. Dare remained seated. And yet she prided herself upon her good breeding!
"I had forgotten a question which my husband particularly desired me to ask," Jane said, turning back, as she was moving to the door. "Edgar saw by the papers that his uncle, Mr. Cooper, died the beginning of the year. Did he remember him on his death-bed, so far as to send a message of reconciliation?"
Strange to say, the countenance of Mrs. Dare again changed; now to a burning heat, now to a livid pallor. She hesitated in her answer.
"Yes," she said at length. "Mr. Cooper so far relented as to send him his forgiveness. 'Tell my nephew Edgar, if you ever see him, that I am sorry for my harshness; that I would treat him differently were the time to come over again.' I do not remember the precise words; but they were to that effect. There is no doubt that he would have wished to be reconciled; but time did not allow it. I should have written to Edgar of this, had I been acquainted with his address."
"A letter addressed to King's College would always have found him. But he will be glad to hear this. He also bade me ask how Mr. Cooper's money was left—if you would kindly give him the information."
Mrs. Dare bent her head. She was busy playing with her bracelet. "The will was proved in Doctors' Commons. Edgar Halliburton may see it by paying a shilling there."
It was not a gracious answer, and Jane paused. "He cannot go to Doctors' Commons; he is not in London," she gently said.
Mrs. Dare raised her head. A look, speaking plainly of defiance, had settled itself on her features. "It was left to me; the whole of it, except a few trifling legacies to his servants. What could Edgar Halliburton expect?"
"I am sure that he did not expect anything," observed Jane. "Though I believe a hope has sometimes crossed his mind that Mr. Cooper might at the last relent, and remember him."
"Nay," said Mrs. Dare, "he had behaved too disobediently for that. First, in opposing his uncle's wishes that he should enter into business; secondly, in his marriage."
"In his marriage!" echoed Jane, a flush rising to her own face.
"It was so. Mr. Cooper was exceedingly exasperated when he heard that Edgar had married. He looked upon the marriage, I believe, as undesirable for him in a pecuniary point of view. You must pardon my speaking of this to you personally. You appear to wish for the truth."
The flush on Jane's face deepened to crimson.
"It is true that I had no money," she said. "But I am the daughter of a clergyman, and was reared a gentlewoman!"
"I suppose my uncle thought Edgar Halliburton should have married a fortune. However all that is past and gone, and it will do no good to recall it. I am sorry that you should have been so ill-advised for your own interests as to fix on this place to come to."
Mrs. Dare rose. She had sat all this time; Jane had stood. "Tell Edgar, from me, that I am sorry to hear of his illness. Tell him there is no possible chance of success for him in Helstonleigh; no opening whatever! When I say that I hope he will speedily remove to some place less overdone with masters, I speak only in his own interest!"
She rang the bell as she spoke, and gave Jane the tips of two of her fingers. The footman held open the hall door, and bowed her out. Jane went down the gravel sweep, determined never again to trouble Mrs. Dare.
"Joseph!" cried Mrs. Dare, sharply.
"Ma'am?"
"Should that lady ever call again, I am not at home, remember!"
"Very well, ma'am," was the man's reply.
Mrs. Dare did not stay to hear it. She had flown upstairs to her room in trepidation. There she attired herself hastily and went out, bending her steps towards Mr. Dare's office. It was situated at the end of the town; and the door displayed a brass plate: "Mr. Dare, Solicitor."
Mrs. Dare entered the outer room. "Is Mr. Dare alone?" she asked of the clerks.
"No, ma'am. Mr. Ashley is with him."
Chafing at the answer, for she was in a mood of great impatience, of inward tremor, Mrs. Dare waited for a few minutes. Mr. Ashley came out. A man of nearly forty years, rather above the middle height, with a fresh complexion, dark eyes, and well-formed features. A benevolent-looking, good man. His wife was a cousin of Mr. Dare's.
Mr. Dare was seated at his table in his own room when his wife came in. She had turned again of an ashy paleness, and she dropped into a chair near to him.
"What is the matter?" he asked in astonishment. "Are you ill?"
"I think I shall die," she gasped. "I have had a mortal fright, Anthony."
Mr. Dare rose. He was about to get her some water, or to call for it, but she caught his arm. "Stay, and hear me! Stay! Anthony, those Halliburtons have come to Helstonleigh. Come to live here!"
Mr. Dare's mouth opened. "What Halliburtons?" he presently asked.
"They. He has come here to settle. He wants to teach; and his wife has been with me, asking us to be referees. Of course I put the stopper upon that. The idea of our having poor relations in the town who get their living by teaching!"
A very disagreeable idea indeed; for those who were playing first fiddle in the place, and expected to play it still. But not for that did the man and wife stand gazing at each other; and the naturally bold look on Mr. Dare's face had faded considerably just then.
"She asked about the will," said Mrs. Dare, dropping her voice to a whisper, and looking round with a shiver. "I thought I should have died with fear."
Mr. Dare rallied his courage. Any little reminiscence that may have momentarily disturbed his equanimity he shook off, and was his own bold self again.
"Nonsense, Julia! What is there to fear? The will is proved and acted upon. Whatever the old man may have uttered to us in his death ramblings was heard by ourselves alone. If any one had heard it, I should not much care. A will's a will all the world over; and to act against it would be illegal."
Mrs. Dare sat wiping her brow and gathering up her courage. It came back by slow degrees.
"Anthony, we must get them out of Helstonleigh. For more reasons than one we must get them out. They are in that house of Mr. Ashley's."
He looked surprised. "They! Ay, to be sure: the name in the books is Halliburton. It never occurred to me that it could be they. I wonder if they are poor?"
"Very poor, the wife said."
"Just so," said Mr. Dare, with a pleasant smile. "I'll not ask for the rent this quarter, but let it go on a bit. We may get them out, Mrs. Dare."
You need not be told that Anthony Dare and his wife had omitted to act upon Mr. Cooper's dying injunction. At the time they did really intend to fulfil it; they were not thieves or forgers. But Edgar Halliburton was not present to remind them of his claims: and, when the money came to be realised, to be in their own hands, there it was suffered to remain. Waiting for him, of course; they did not know precisely where to find him, and did not take any trouble to inquire. Very tempting and useful they found the money. A large portion of their own share went in paying back debts, for they lived at an extravagant rate; and—and in short they had intrenched upon that other share, and could not now have paid it over had they been ever so willing to do so. No wonder that Mrs. Dare had felt as one in mortal fear when she met Jane Halliburton face to face!
Frank met her as she went in. It was dark; but she kept her veil down.
"Oh, mamma, that's the most horrible man!" he began, in a whisper. "You know the cheese you brought in on Saturday, that we might not eat our bread quite dry; well, he has eaten it up, every morsel, and half a loaf of bread! And he has burnt the whole scuttleful of coal! And he swore because there was no meat; and he swore at us because we would not go to the public-house and buy him some beer. He said we were to buy it and pay for it."
"I said you would not allow us to go, mamma," interrupted William, who now came up. "I told him that if he wanted beer he must go and get it for himself. I spoke civilly, you know, not rudely. He went into such a passion, and said such things! It is a good thing Jane was out."
"Where is Gar?" she asked.
"Gar was frightened at the man, and the tobacco-smoke made him sick, and he cried; and then he lay down on the floor, and went to sleep."
She felt sick. She drew her two boys into the parlour—dark there, except for the lamp in the road, which shone in. Pressing them in her arms, completely subdued by the miseries of her situation, she leaned her forehead upon William's shoulder, and burst once more into a most distressing flood of tears.
They were alarmed. They cried with her. "Oh, mamma! what is it? Why don't you order the man to go away?"
"My boys, I must tell you; I cannot keep it from you," she sobbed. "That man is put here to remain, until I can pay the rent. If I cannot pay it, our things will be taken and sold."
William's pulses and heart alike beat, but he was silent, Frank spoke. "Whatever shall we do, mamma?"
"I do not know," she wailed. "Perhaps God will help us. There is no one else to do it."
Patience came in, for about the sixth time, to see whether Jane had returned, and how the mission had sped. They called her into the cold, dark room. Jane gave her the history of the whole day, and Patience listened in astonishment.
"I cannot but believe that Thomas Ashley must have been mis-informed," said she, presently. "But that you are strangers in the place, I should say you had an enemy who may have gone to him with a tale that thee can pay, but will not. Still, even in that case, it would be unlike Thomas Ashley. He is a kind and a good man; not a harsh one."
"Mr. Dare told me he was expressly acting for Mr. Ashley."