CHAPTER VI.—SUSPICION.

Press, Volume LIII, Issue 9359, 7 March 1896, Page 2

CHAPTER VI.—SUSPICION.

Though the rest of ths evening was passed in friendly conversation, and without further allusion to the distasteful topic of the alleged claim, yet on shutting himself in his room that night Rothbury \s face resumed all the anxiety which had characterised it during the earlier part of the evening. He elt himself, as he had said, aggrieved, and he was perhaps unconsciously inclined to exaggerate his grievance. One of his more marked traits was a generosity almost quixotic in its fervour. It was perfectly true that in his refusal he was actuated by no mercenary motive, and that the amount of the demand exercised no influence over his decision; yet the consciousness of this fact served in no degree to mitigate his distress. Though he was careful not to put his knowledge into coherent thought, he was fully aware that but for one circumstance Carslake would have received a different reply, and he himself would have gone to his bad the poorer in prospect by a thousand a yeai. Margaret's confession, made with all the fervour of a suspicion long entertained and never till then ventilated, had had its effect in breeding distrust of his present guest. Away from Margaret, the circumstances she had mentioned appeared trivial and easily explicable. In Carslake's presence the thought of it in connection with doubt assumed the proportions of a cruel injustice, yet so largely during the last few weeks had the thought of Margaret pervaded his mind, that he found it impossible to avoid reflecting in a dim, vague way the antipathy which animated her. He had found no opportunity during the evening for the experiment which might have alleviated these doubts. So he told himself. In reality a strong distaste for anything underhand held him back from providing an opportunity when it was possible to make one ; yet he Avas fully resolved that the experiment should be attempted before Carslake left. His final decision was a determination to consult Margaret on the whole matter of the lawyer's visit, and allow himself to be influenced by her opinion. With this resolve he fell asleep. Carslake was not to leave till noon. As the weather was fine, most of the morning was spent in the op;n air, the new right-of-way coming in for inspection and discussion. " Chappie tells mc," said Rothbury, " that in spite of my public announcement I can close this path when I like. Is that so ?" ' " Certainly," said C a rslake, " you are not giving rights, merely a permission." " I see," said Rothbury. " That must be altered, I want to give rights ; I want to be bound hard and fast. I rather distrust the English atmosphere. You must draw mc up a deed of gift to the parish." He paused, struck by a sudden idea,. " Have you a pencil ?" he asked. Carslake felt in his pocket, and handed him something without looking at it. He was smiling as though in amusement at the other's determination. Rothbury turned the pencil-case over on tli. palm of his hand. It was gold, heavy, three to four inches long, shaped in the form of a gun. Foi- writing purposes it appeared useless. " How do you work it ?" he asked, twisting it between his fingers. " For Heaven's sake don't break it," said Carslake, eagerly. "Pull the trigger." Rothbury wrote a brief memorandum and handed it to Carslake, then he closed the poncii'tt-d weighed it*i_-his handy "It i«; a pretty toy," _c said contemptuously, "the sort of thing people waste money on in a world sick-'with starvation." "It cost mc- no money," said Carslake ; " it is not even mine—by the way, "he broke off, with a sudden change of countenance, " if it belongs to anybody it is yours." " How's that ?" asked Rothbury, looking up. "It is the last thing I ever had of poor Herbert," explained, Carslake, "he left it inadvertently on my office table, and I have carried it as a memento ever since. However it is properly yours." " Not at all," said Rothbury, handing the pencil back, his face slightly 'flushed. "I have already enough of Herbert's,, why should I deprive you of your ewe lamb ? If you care for it, and I have any rights in it, keep it by all means." For the rest of the day until the lawyer's departure, Rothbury's manner iwas one of uninterrupted cordiality. It seemed as if he could not sufficiently show remorse for some act of treachery of which his guest was totally unconscious. On leaving Cars* lake gave a promise to run down for a week or so after the return of the senior partner. In the afternoon Rothbury mounted his horse with pleasurable anticipations of his interview with Margaret. So far he had not acknowledged to himself any deeper feeling for the girl than ah interest and pity arising out of the unhappy circumstances of her engagement to his coußin. But to-day the. jubilation with which he act forth, and the keen pang 3of disappointment that assailed him as bend after bend of the road was passed without revealing the well-known figure, opened to him a sudden glimpse of his real mind. A flush of colour grew slowly in his Bwarthy cheek as the truth burnt its way into his brain, at the same time an incredulous smile lightened in his eyes. The afternoon was chill and misty. As he emerged from the shadow of the woods he saw that at one point on the horizon the mist had gathered thickly and settled down on the land ; a few minutes later it was delicately lined with slanting rain. Rothbury moved on at a walk, hia eyes bent on the forward track. Every moment brought him neai*er to Market Walaingham, and the abode of the Awdrys, yet still there was np sign of Margaret. Evidently the unsettled appearance of the weather had determined her to remain indoors. Having come so far he felt loath to return without making an attempt to see her. Th c matter of Mrs Wentworth needed prompt settlement, and Carslake's explanation of his po33ession of the pencil-case should be gone into without delay. He determined to ride on to the house, and though most of his time would probably be taken up with Mr Awdry, yet there was the possibility of a few minutes' private conversation with Margaret. Greatly to Rothbury's relief, Mr Awdry had gone into the town, and was not expected back till dinner time; Miss Awdry was at home. Margaret rose gladly on his entrance. " I was hoping you would come," she said. " Did you expect mc ?" asked Rothbury, taking the hand she held out to him. " I thought perhaps you might come," she said. " I had a, slight cold and the weather looked threatening, so I decided to wait till to-morrow." " I have nothing much to communicate," said Rothbury, when he was seated, " but I want to ask your advice on a matter that troubles mc. First of all, however, I had better speak about the pencil. I feel sure your suspicions have no foundation. Carelake was entirely frank about it. He told mc unsolicited that" Herbert left it on his table the day he disappeared. There was absolutely no attempt "or desire to conceal. He offered the thing to mc, but of course I refused to take it." He spoke eagerly, with the evident desire of converting Margaret to his own opinion, but the girrs face showed no sympathy. "Of course, that is the obvious explanation," she said, coldly. "Tell mc frankly what you suspect," urged Rothbury. "You cannot suppose that Carslake has committed murder, the thought is too impossible." Margaret's eyes widened, bnt she shook her head. ■■. " Then what ? " asked Rothbury. " You believe that Herbert is stiE alive: do you suspect that he is kept a prisoner somewhere, and that Carslake is responsible for his detention ! "

" Such things have happened," replied Margaret huskily. " But what possible reason could he have?" objected Rothbury. Margaret looked at him hesitatingly, her lips moving.as if on the point of speech. Something in the expression of her face recalled to Rothbury's recollection the confession that had fallen from tlie lawyer's lips on the day he first mot him. Again a dim antipathy took possession of his heart, but this time instead of being a reflection of the girl's mood, it was wholly original. If barslake had desired to wod Margaret witsuch intensity that he had proposed to her on two separate occasions, then certainly there was a reason why he might have wished Herbert out of the road. Further than that ' might' Rothbury found himself unable to go. Some inner force of conviction compelled him to trust Carslake as a man whose sincerity and honesty of purpose were beyond dispute. "I want to talk to you on another matter," he said after debating with himself whether to continue the discussion on the new ground that had just been revealed to him and deciding in the negative. " Carslake came to mc with a very strange request. He proposed that I should pay an annuity to Mrs Wentworth on the ground that she had a claim on the family, that Herbert had always acknowleged it, and had proposed to make her a beneficiary under his will. The extraordinary part of the business is that the nature of the claim was not to be divulged to mc." "Who is Mrs Wentworth?" asked Margaret with a puzzled frown. "I have met her in Carslake's house ; she appears to be a resident there." Rothbury then gave an account of his visit to Highgate and his meeting with the lady. "I have never heard of her," said Margaret, at lensth, " nor can I conceive of any way in which she could have had a claim on Herbert. It may ba true, yet it is strange I have never heard of it." " Supposing there to bs some foundation for your doubts of Carslake," said Rothbury, musingly, " can you connect this mutter m any way with Herbert's disappearance-? Is it possible it may throw some light on it ?" Margaret pondered, her eyes dark with the weight of reflection that oppressed her. "Oh," she cried suddenly, "for the. power to see through stone walls and into men's hearts." "It would be useful sometimes," said Rothbury, with a slow sympathetic smile, " but rather ghastly as a permanent possession." Margaret rose, her face clearing. " Let mc get you some tea," she said, brightly. "Mr Awdry is out, he had to address a meeting in the town. You know he is interesting himself in the formation of a public library." Mr Rothbury expressed a conventional sorrow. " I wanted to talk with him about an experiment we propose to carry out on Swallow's Farm," he said. Margaret looked a little dubious, then broke into a merry laugh. " I hope you are not.being led away, Mr Rothbury," she said. " Papa has so many enthusiam. that he is really almost dangerous. You know they don't always turn out quite as he had expected." " I will remember your warning," said Rothbury, smiling. "I liavo no very great expectations, but this scheme really does seem to mc good enough to ba tried. Even if it fails no great harm will be done." "Perhaps you will wait till lie comes," suggested Margaret, hesitatingly. '•' I think not to-night," he replied, slowly. "On some other occasion, if I may." He ro3e as he spoke, his-conclud-ing words having much of the force of an interrogative addressed to her alone. His eyes sought hers. Whether Margaret detected this significance or no, her face showed no lessening of its brightness. "Mr Awdry will always bo glad to see you," she said, steadily, shaking hands. On the departure of her visitor, she sat for a time, motionless, her face a blank ; then with a quick uneasy movement rose and crossed the room till she stood beneath the portrait of her quondam lover. The picture was no dull, mechanical reproduction, but vivid and life-like, full of that subtle' individuality, which only, the eye of an artist can detect and impart. The hazel eyes beamed with a kindly intelligence, the pose of the lips betrayed|ensitiyeness,jOiily preserved from weakness by 'the strong modelling of the chin. It was a face admirable at once in its manly beauty and its spiritual delicacy, one of those excessively rare countenances from which nature has removed all traces of the brute foundation on which she builds. Margaret gazed long and, earnestly, her hands clasped tightly together. Her" eyes were full of a dull pain, her lips moved soundlessly. The eager look in the eyes of tho picture, gazing remorselessly out. beyond oppressed her brain with a sense of powerlessness, of the utter inscrutability of the mystery in which her life was involved. If only that fixity of gaze would relax, might be drawn in to rest upon herself. Suddenly the still air of the room was disturbed by whispered speech. . ■ ■, " Herbert, look at mc. Tell mc where you are, and I will come to you—"Dearest, I have not forgotten you—have you forgotten mc ? Tell mc how Lam to live my life. • She stood by the fire in the darkening room, one foot on the fender, her arm laid on the mantelpiece, her forehead bowed upon it. 'She was not crying nor sobbing, Tier eyes were dry. The emotion of a few minutes before had passed effectlessly, like something unreal, leaving her curiously calm. . (To bs continued.)