Foul Play [189]
him every day. Poor young man! His is really a very hard case. For you promised him your hand before you ever saw Robert Penfold."
"I did," said Helen; "but I did not say when. Let me have one year to my good work, before I devote my whole life to Arthur."
"Well, it will be a year wasted. Why postpone your marriage for that?"
"I promised."
"Yes, but he chose to fancy young Wardlaw is his enemy. You might relax that, now he tells you he will co-operate with you as your husband. Now, Helen, tell the truth--is it a woman's work? Have you found it so? Will not Arthur do it better than you?"
Helen, weakened already by days of suffering, began to cry, and say, "What shall I do? what shall I do?"
"If you have any doubt, my dear," said Sir Edward, "then think of what I owe to these Wardlaws."
And with that he kissed her, and left her in tears; and, soon after, sent Arthur himself up to plead his own cause.
It was a fine summer afternoon; the long French casements, looking on the garden of the Square, were open, and the balmy air came in and wooed the beautiful girl's cheek, and just stirred her hair at times.
Arthur Wardlaw came softly in, and gazed at her as she lay; her loveliness filled his heart and soul; he came and knelt by her sofa, and took her hand, and kissed it, and his own eyes glistened with tenderness.
He had one thing in his favor. He loved her.
Her knowledge of this had more than once befriended him, and made her refuse to suspect him of any great ill; it befriended him now. She turned a look of angelic pity on him.
"Poor Arthur," she said. "You and I are both unhappy."
"But we shall be happy, ere long, I hope," said Arthur.
Helen shook her head.
Then he patted her, and coaxed her, and said he would be her servant, as well as a husband, and no wish of her heart should go ungratified.
"None?" said she, fixing her eyes on him.
"Not one," said he; "upon my honor." Then he was so soft and persuasive, and alluded so delicately to her plighted faith, that she felt like a poor bird caught in a silken net.
"Sir Edward is very good," said he; "he feels for me."
At that moment, a note was sent up.
"Mr. Wardlaw is here, and has asked me when the marriage is to be. I can't tell him; I look like a fool."
Helen sighed deeply and had begun to gather those tears that weaken a woman. She glanced despairingly to and fro, and saw no escape. Then, Heaven knows why or wherefore--probably with no clear design at all but a woman's weak desire to cause a momentary diversion, to put off the inevitable for five minutes--she said to Arthur: "Please give me that prayer-book. Thank you. It is right you should know this." And she put Cooper's deposition, and Welch's, into his hands.
He devoured them, and started up in great indignation. "It is an abominable slander," said he. "We have lost ten thousand pounds by the wreck of that ship, and Wylie's life was saved by a miracle as well as your own. It is a foul slander. I hurl it from me."
And he made his words good by whirling the prayer-book out of window.
Helen uttered a scream. "My mother's prayer-book!" she cried.
"Oh! I beg pardon," said he.
"As well you may," said she. "Run and send George after it."
"No, I'll go myself," said he. "Pray forgive me. You don't know what a terrible slander they have desecrated your prayerbook with."
He ran out and was a long time gone. He came back at last, looking terrified.
"I can't find it," said he. "Somebody has carried it off. Oh, how unfortunate I am!"
"Not find it!" said Helen. "But it _must_ be found."
"Of course it must be found," said Arthur. "A pretty scandal to go into the hands of Heaven knows who. I shall offer twenty guineas reward for it at once. I'll go down to the _Times_ this moment. Was ever anything so unlucky?"
"Yes, go at once," said Helen; "and I'll send the servants into the Square. I don't want to say anything unkind, Arthur, but you ought not to have thrown my prayer-book into the public street."
"I know I ought not. I am ashamed of
"I did," said Helen; "but I did not say when. Let me have one year to my good work, before I devote my whole life to Arthur."
"Well, it will be a year wasted. Why postpone your marriage for that?"
"I promised."
"Yes, but he chose to fancy young Wardlaw is his enemy. You might relax that, now he tells you he will co-operate with you as your husband. Now, Helen, tell the truth--is it a woman's work? Have you found it so? Will not Arthur do it better than you?"
Helen, weakened already by days of suffering, began to cry, and say, "What shall I do? what shall I do?"
"If you have any doubt, my dear," said Sir Edward, "then think of what I owe to these Wardlaws."
And with that he kissed her, and left her in tears; and, soon after, sent Arthur himself up to plead his own cause.
It was a fine summer afternoon; the long French casements, looking on the garden of the Square, were open, and the balmy air came in and wooed the beautiful girl's cheek, and just stirred her hair at times.
Arthur Wardlaw came softly in, and gazed at her as she lay; her loveliness filled his heart and soul; he came and knelt by her sofa, and took her hand, and kissed it, and his own eyes glistened with tenderness.
He had one thing in his favor. He loved her.
Her knowledge of this had more than once befriended him, and made her refuse to suspect him of any great ill; it befriended him now. She turned a look of angelic pity on him.
"Poor Arthur," she said. "You and I are both unhappy."
"But we shall be happy, ere long, I hope," said Arthur.
Helen shook her head.
Then he patted her, and coaxed her, and said he would be her servant, as well as a husband, and no wish of her heart should go ungratified.
"None?" said she, fixing her eyes on him.
"Not one," said he; "upon my honor." Then he was so soft and persuasive, and alluded so delicately to her plighted faith, that she felt like a poor bird caught in a silken net.
"Sir Edward is very good," said he; "he feels for me."
At that moment, a note was sent up.
"Mr. Wardlaw is here, and has asked me when the marriage is to be. I can't tell him; I look like a fool."
Helen sighed deeply and had begun to gather those tears that weaken a woman. She glanced despairingly to and fro, and saw no escape. Then, Heaven knows why or wherefore--probably with no clear design at all but a woman's weak desire to cause a momentary diversion, to put off the inevitable for five minutes--she said to Arthur: "Please give me that prayer-book. Thank you. It is right you should know this." And she put Cooper's deposition, and Welch's, into his hands.
He devoured them, and started up in great indignation. "It is an abominable slander," said he. "We have lost ten thousand pounds by the wreck of that ship, and Wylie's life was saved by a miracle as well as your own. It is a foul slander. I hurl it from me."
And he made his words good by whirling the prayer-book out of window.
Helen uttered a scream. "My mother's prayer-book!" she cried.
"Oh! I beg pardon," said he.
"As well you may," said she. "Run and send George after it."
"No, I'll go myself," said he. "Pray forgive me. You don't know what a terrible slander they have desecrated your prayerbook with."
He ran out and was a long time gone. He came back at last, looking terrified.
"I can't find it," said he. "Somebody has carried it off. Oh, how unfortunate I am!"
"Not find it!" said Helen. "But it _must_ be found."
"Of course it must be found," said Arthur. "A pretty scandal to go into the hands of Heaven knows who. I shall offer twenty guineas reward for it at once. I'll go down to the _Times_ this moment. Was ever anything so unlucky?"
"Yes, go at once," said Helen; "and I'll send the servants into the Square. I don't want to say anything unkind, Arthur, but you ought not to have thrown my prayer-book into the public street."
"I know I ought not. I am ashamed of