"Oh! certainly--certainly," said Pringle, hurriedly; he was very much puzzled how to act. It looked very much like a flirtation between his sister and Tom, under his very nose as it were, and he had promised Lady Inskip to "put a stop to it." He did not know what to do. He liked Tom, and did not wish besides to appear uncourteous; but he was very nervous. "If I were only her mother," he murmured to himself, "it would be easy enough;" but as he unfortunately did not occupy the position of a maternal relative, he was on thorns all the time Tom stayed.

"Don't you think we'd better have some lunch, Lizzie," he said, after a pause, filled up by the other two very agreeably by the aid of that very intelligible "conversation without words"--which by the aid of looks is carried on between lovers, whether _de facto_ or _de jure_. Whereupon Lizzie bustled out of the room, shaking a little bunch of keys in the most housewifely manner, and looking dangerously pretty; presently returning with the "Gezaba" in her train, and carrying a little damask covered luncheon tray. The three had a very sociable and pleasant little meal, although neither Tom nor Lizzie eat much; however, they both drank deeply-intoxicating draughts from each other's eyes.

Presently, Tom rose to go, after paying a call of some hours' duration, during which Pringle had never given him an opportunity of being alone with Lizzie. "What cubs brothers are!" thought Tom in his inmost heart, but he thanked Pringle aloud for his kindness in sending up every day to enquire after him. Pringle was candid with all his faults. "Oh, you must thank Lizzie for that," he said; "I've called several times myself to ask about you, but she sent up the servant, I believe, every day!"

And then, of course, Master Tom had to thank Miss Lizzie. Why the thanking had to occupy such a long time, and why Lizzie had to blush so much, and why Master Tom had to keep her hand such an unconscionable long time in his, while Pringle went forward to open the door, and show his guest out; and why Tom had to make the little attention into a serious business by saying, "I shall never forget it! never, as long as I live," I can't explain--sufficient to say that Master Tom appeared very much satisfied at leaving her, though he had not had the chance of actually telling his love, while Miss Lizzie did not appear as if she would "punish" him, as she threatened to do, when he called again.

The young inc.u.mbent walked home with Tom, to give him the benefit of his arm; and he was very uncomfortable about it all, for he could not ask a poor, sick fellow like that who was hobbling by his side, "what were his intentions." He must let matters rest for a season, until something actually turned up. He was distrustful of the whole business, for he did not think the rich and purse-proud old dowager would consent to let her son wed her curate's portionless sister; so Pringle felt worried in his heart, and, after seeing Tom home, had to go and call on Lady Inskip in order to be comforted by the languid Laura.

When Tom got to The Poplars, he found that a great deal had happened in his absence.

Mr Trump had come down post haste to tell about Susan's recovery, and how Markworth had taken her away and married her, and that she was with him now at Havre. The lawyer was still waiting to see him. Doctor Jolly too was there, and had heard the news, our old friend telling Tom as he hobbled into the hall, "Bless my soul! sir, there's the very devil to pay!"

Volume 2, Chapter VI.

STORMY! GLa.s.s RISING.

Barometers are of such use to maritime and other folk, in indicating the changes of atmospherical phenomena, and the approach of disturbing elements, that it is a wonder in these go-a-head days, no instrument has been constructed by which we could ascertain the fluctuations of the human temperament. One might have a sort of graduated thermometer, _par exemple_, to indicate the rise and force of the pa.s.sions, especially that of anger, and call it a "cholerometer." The idea may be recommended to the attention of scientific philanthropists, as it would be of incalculable use in preventing unruly encounters, if one but just knew the exact choleric and argumentative calibre and equipoise of those with whom one has frequently to come in contact.

If such an instrument did exist, the barometrical measurement applied to the old dowager, Mrs Hartshorne's temper on the morning that Markworth came to have his interview, and state his case about Susan, would certainly have indicated some such stormy height, or fall, as 29 degrees 31, or thereabouts!

Mr Trump had gone down expressly the previous day, as he said he would; and a nice storm he created. "Not a tempest in a teapot," but a regular carousal of the elements--a rushing together of hot and cold streams, not of air, as is so eloquently described in the pages of Professor Maury, but of temper and pa.s.sion.

"Stuff and nonsense," said the dowager, virulently, "I won't believe it!

Do you mean to say that that man, who was stopping here in the house with us as Thomas' friend, and accepted our hospitality, took advantage of our kindness, and ran off with that idiot girl; why, it's absurd!

Stuff and nonsense, I tell you. I won't believe it!"

"But, my dear madam," interposed Mr Trump, "I a.s.sure you it is a fact.

We've got the proof, and I have just told you all the circ.u.mstances.

It's as clear as a counsellor's wig, madam! He took the girl away from here, married her, and there she is; nothing could be plainer."

"Gammon!" said the dowager. "It is all rubbish!"

"My dear madam," said the lawyer, "just be sensible for a moment."

"I've got more sense in my little finger, sir, than you have in your whole body," snapped out the old lady.

"Granted, my dear madam; but, pardon me, if that is not exactly relevant to the case. The proof is clear enough that Markworth took her away; and I sent my clerk down to the church mentioned in the certificate, and there is no doubt that he married Susan there, and that she's now at Havre. Besides, his motive is plain enough; he wanted to get her fortune."

"The artful, designing scoundrel!" broke out the dowager.

"The question is, my dear madam, what is to be done now? That fellow said he was coming down here to-morrow morning. Would it be better to wait until you see him, and fathom his plans, or else send over to Havre at once, and take steps to recover the girl?"

"The cunning, crawling villain!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs Hartshorne; "but I'll be even with him yet, I'll be even with him!"

"I am quite at your disposal," promptly replied the lawyer, who was eager to be bounding after Markworth; and just at this moment, before anything had been decided upon, Doctor Jolly was announced.

He apologised for interrupting the conversation; but said, that as he had heard that Mr Trump had just come down, he thought there would be some tidings of Susan, which must be his excuse for walking in so unceremoniously.

Whereupon, both the dowager and the lawyer together fired out upon him with the astonishing news. "Bless my soul!" exclaimed he, horrified at what he heard. "Who would have thought it? But I always said he was a bad fellow! I told you so Mrs Hartshorne, I told you so!"

"And much good there was in your telling! If you hadn't been always dangling here, taking that governess off from her duties, and had looked after Susan better yourself, this would never have happened."

"Bless my soul! madam," exclaimed the doctor, staring helplessly at Mr Trump, aghast at the blame being thus thrown on him of all others; and dabbing his face in perplexity with his yellow bandana pocket handkerchief. "Bless my soul, madam! What have _I_ got to do with it?"

Tom at this moment came hobbling up the front steps, and the doctor, eagerly seizing the opportunity to escape from the dowager's invective, went out of the room hastily to open the door for him, when he took the opportunity of telling Tom, as we have already heard, that there was "the devil to pay in there," pointing with his thumb over his shoulder to the room he had just quitted, in the most significant manner.

The tale had, of course, to be told over again to Tom, when he was admitted to the council, now of four; and an animated debate ensued on what was to be done. It was finally resolved that the lawyer should telegraph to London, and send over one of his clerks that night to Havre, to watch the house where Susan was, and see that she was not removed in the interim; that Mr Trump was to remain at The Poplars until after Markworth's visit on the morrow; and, at his express wish, Tom was to go over as soon afterwards as possible, and fetch Susan back himself.

After a good deal of fluctuation, from 29 degrees 31 down to so low a fall as 28 degrees 64, the barometrical pressure of the dowager's temper had returned to its abnormal state, during the excited conversation that had gone on all the time; but the next morning, however, when Markworth made his appearance, the dowager's barometer sank again to a very low depth indeed.

Although he was opposed to three people at once--the old lady, Tom, and Mr Trump, the former of whom piled Pelion on Ossa in her wrath, Markworth kept his temper admirably. He seemed to pride himself on the successful issue of his scheme, and related each step he had taken with an air of ill-concealed triumph. The dowager was furious, but her hot-tempered words appeared to have little or no effect on the man who now proclaimed himself the husband of her daughter, a neglect of which daughter by herself and her cruelty, he stated, led to his success.

Rages are all very well in their way, but the dowager's anger was powerless here, so Markworth bore off the palm of victory against the triple odds against which he had contested it.

The only time that he appeared to be affected by all that was said against him, was when Tom addressed him pointedly and coldly with the stern truth, which he could not dispute. He then turned pale.

"You have done a dishonourable action, sir," said Tom. "I treated you and trusted you as a gentleman and a friend, and you have abused that trust. I--I never thought you would have acted like it; and, apart from the injury you have done us, I am sorry for it, for you have hurt my faith in a man's honour."

Tom really felt it thus.

"I can't excuse myself," answered Markworth, "but I have done good to your sister instead of harm. I have brought her back to her reason, instead of letting her remain a hopeless idiot, as she would have done if I had not drawn her out; and I'll say this, it was not all for the sake of her money I did it. I was really, so help me heaven I interested in her case, and trusted to cure her honestly."

"You need not swear any more false oaths to me," answered Tom; "I don't desire to speak to you again, or see you again as long as I live."

"Very well," said Markworth, "so be it. But all I have to say is this, that if you wish to take back your sister you are free to do so; if she likes to go, I will not prevent her. As for you, madam," he said, turning politely to Mrs Hartshorne, and bowing, "I have placed the matter in the hands of my solicitor, for I am determined to get the fortune to which my wife is ent.i.tled."

"You'll not get a penny, rogue," retorted the dowager (barometer 28 degrees 64!) "not if there's any law in the land."

"We will see, madam."

"Hark you, sir," said Mr Trump, having his say, of which he had been sadly deprived all the time the dowager was going on. "Hark you, sir, we can find the girl was of unsound mind, as I told you before, and have you indicted for a conspiracy."

"That we will!" echoed the dowager, "and have you on the treadmill, villain!"

Mrs Hartshorne had somewhat vague notions of the power of that large word in capitals--Law, and seemed to think that its obvious bent in any case, especially one like the present, was the treadmill.

"We will see," answered Markworth, defiantly; "but you will have to prove your case, my dear sir. You see I did it all by myself, and the girl was a willing agent, and of age: she is of perfectly sound mind, as she can prove in the witness-box, and how you are to get over all that evidence remains to be proved."

"We'll prove it," answered Mr Trump; but although he was certainly cross, his countenance did not exhibit any strong hopes of success.

"The cunning vagabond is too much for us," he murmured, _sotto voce_.

"Good morning," said Markworth, blandly, to all, and he walked out triumphantly, the dowager screaming after him, "Not a penny will you get, scoundrel."

In Markworth's confession he had very naturally, for his own sake, not brought up the governess's name; consequently she was excluded from all share in the conspiracy. She knew of his being down, however, and had gone out apparently for a walk while the battle was being fought in the dining-room. She wished to meet Markworth alone, and he was equally desirous to see her; so it is not surprising that a few minutes after taking such a stagey farewell of the dowager, the two met beyond the precincts of The Poplars.

"Just the person I wanted to see," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Markworth, on coming up with her under the shadow of the wall, which encircled the Hartshorne mansion.

"Indeed! I did not think you would be so glad to see me," replied Miss Kingscott.