ON THE EDGE OF A PRECIPICE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIII, Issue XXI, 18 November 1899, Page 900

ON THE EDGE OF A PRECIPICE.

(Published by Special Arrangement.)

By

Mary Angela Dickens.

Author of “ Prisoners of Silence,” “ Against the Tide,” “ Some Women’s Ways,” “ Cross Currents,” “A Mere Cypher,’ “Valiant Ignorance,” etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXII. “ IF MR HAMER WOULD ONLY COME !” It was a dreary room ; one of those which not even the most brilliant sunshine can render really cheerful ; and on a close, wet February day, it seemed even more dingy and depressing than it really was. It was so warm that the fire had been let out. The remains of a mid-day meal stood upon the table, and no touch of comfort seemed to be anywhere apparent. It was a private sitting-room in a hotel, not of the first class, in a fairly large town in the Midlands ; a cathedral city which was also a manufacturing town, and a military station ; a town in which there was so much coming and going, so many varying lines of interest that strangers there might find themselves for weeks together unnoticed and untalked about. The only occupants of the room were Cecil Cochrane and Rachel. Two days had passed since the day on which Andrew Hamer journeyed to Kirk Mary, and it was four days now since the Cochranes, with Violet Drummond, had taken up their abode at the Lion Hotel. And to neither the brother nor sister, judging from their appearance, had those four days brought any satisfaction. Cochrane was lounging back in an easy chair apparently reading a newspaper, but it was long since he had turned the sheet before him, and there was a sullen preoccupation about his whole pose. Rachel was sitting by the empty grate, not occupying herself in any way. Her face had grown thin and sharp, and her eyes looked preternaturally large as they stared down at the cold ashes. At last Cochrane threw down the paper, and turned towards his sister. “ Why are you keeping her upstairs ?” he said. His voice was illtempered and impatient. Rachel did not trouble to lift her eyes as she answered : “It’s not I who keep her upstairs. She’s asleep.” “ She seems to have been asleep all day.” “Yes;” returned Rachel. “You’ve overdone it with that stuff. Its only effect seems to be to make her sleep."’ “ And she wakes up as obstinate as ever,” said Cochrane. He rose angrily as he spoke, and stood with his back to the fireplace. “ I can’t say that I think you or your plan particularly successful at present, Rachel. I don’t know whether you’re proud of yourself or not ; but you’ve certainly no reason to be.” There was no answer. Rachel had propped her chin upon her clasped hands, and was still looking steadily at the ashes. “ Do you know we've been in this confounded hole four days ?” demanded Cochrane. He waited for an answer. “ Yes, I know,” said Raehel, briefly. “ And we’re no better off than we were on the first day ; indeed, we’re worse off, because resistance has become a fixed idea with her. Upon my word, Rachel, I should be ashamed if I were you, to let a girl like that be so much too many for me,” Raehel stirred a little. “ It has become a fixed idea with her,” she said. “ You say so yourself. You must give me time. She’ll give in at last—she shall give in.” Rachel’s eyes flashed ominously. “ But you must give me time.” Cochrane’s face darkened still further. “ You’ve had four days,” he said.

“We can’t expect to keep ourselves dark for ever. Look here, Rachel, the plan was yours, and I’ve left you a free hand. I’ve left it to you to manage her as you thought best. I fancied you were a cleverer woman than you are. I should never have thought of the business if you hadn’t suggested it ; but now I’ve gone into it, I mean to do the trick somehow or other. If you can’t manage her, I shall take her in hand myself.” “ Do you think you’d be more successful than I’ve been ?”

“ I think my methods would be different,” he returned. There was a covert threat in his voice aind his face looked indescribably sinister. “And I don’t intend to be beaten by a girl.” Raehel leant suddenly back in her chair. Her face was very hard and reckless.

“ All right,” she said. “If she won't hear reason, she must take the consequences. But she shall have another chance. I’ll talk to her when she wakes up, and see if I can’t do something with her.” She rose and rang the bell, turning her back upon her brother. “ You’d better go out,” she said, brusquely. “It worries me to have you always about. Go and amuse yourself.” “Amuse myself! How am I to amuse myself in this dead-alive hole?” he answered with a sneer. “You can play billiards, can’t you?” said Rachel. “There are places of that kind, I imagine. Do what you like, only don’t stop here.” She waited for no answer. A servant entered the room at that moment with a cup of coffee in her hand, and Rachel took it from her and went away. It was a bedroom on the floor above to which she took her way: a comfortable room enough, bu.t dark and sombre-looking on that dull afternoon. Outside on the leads the rain dripped with unceasing monotony. Rachel went straight in, taking no particular pains either to open the door, or to move, quietly. She went up to the bed and looked down at its occupant. Violet Drummond was lying there, dressed, but sleeping heavily. She had grown unnaturally thin in the last four days. There was no trace of colour in her face, and there were large, dark circles Hinder her eyes. The muscles about her mouth were a little relaxed in her sleep, and she looked like a wornout child. Rachel stood for a moment watching her, then she stooped down and shook her by the shoulder. “Sylvia!” she said, “you’ve slept quite long enough. Wake up.” The girl stirred slightly, but the heavy eyelids did not unclose, and Rachel shook her again. “Sylvia,” she said. “Don’t you hear me? Wake up!” There was a. moment’s pause — then Violet slowly opened her eyes. As she did so, the whole character of her face seemed to change. Into her eyes in the last four days had come so strong a look of resolution that even the fear with which it was mingled could not give any childishness to her expression. She looked dazed and stupid, and she spoke uncertainly. “I’m very sleepy,” she said. “I’ve brought you some coffee,” said Rachel ]>eremptorily. '“Drink It was strong black, eoffee, and Violet shuddered a little as she put it obediently to her lips. But it did her good. She lay down again, but her eyes did not close. “Get up,” said Rachel. “You’ll go to sleep if you lie there, and I want to talk to you.”

Violet obeyed mechanically, and stood apparentlywaiting further directions. No idea of protesting against Rachel’s decrees seemed to present itself to her. “Sit down there,” said Rachel, pointing to a chair near the window. “Sylvia, I’m going to give you one more chance.” Violet did not answer. She lifted her eyes to Rachel’s face for one moment, and then looked away again.

“You know what I told you last night. It’s only a question of time. You'll have to marry Cecil sooner or later. And you’re only making it worse for yourself by all this stupidity.” Still Violet did not reply. Through out the first two of the past four days, she had worn herself out with tears and entreaties. When she had first realise the Cochranes’ intentions, when it came home to her that she was utterly alone with them, cut off from everyone she had learned to love, curt off, above all, from Hamer, who was the one being in the world in whom she trusted, the gentle, rather stupid girl, had become like a wild thing. It was in sheer desperation that Rachel, after fortyeight hours, had told her brother that he must, find something strong enough to make the girl sleep, or she would certainly go out of her mind. She had been made to sleep accordingly; and she had waked in much the same state that she was in now. Passive in all minor matters, hardly answering Rachel when she urged and commanded, her whole nature, apparently, was concentrated in a dull instinct of resistance. No impulse towards self-help stirred in her. Even in her first frenzy of distress the habit of dependence on the Cochranes held good, and it was from Rachel that she had implored help. It never occurred to her to appeal to the other people in the hotel. It never occurred to her, even to communicate with Hamer; and had she thought of it she would have been utterly at a loss how to proceed. The agitation through which she had passed, coming upon her recent illness and the opiates which she had taken, had undoubtedly dulled her brain a little, and her perceptions, never very acute, had become perceptibly slower. She was as absolutely helpless as a child, and the woman’s determination which had developed in her intrenched itself, as a child’s obstinacy does, in silence.

“You don’t suppose, do you,” went on Rachel, “that when we’ve taken all this trouble we’re going to let a whim of yours stand in the way? You shouldn’t have encouraged Cecil at first, if you didn’t w’ant to marry him.” Rachel’s face had grown indescribably dark and reckless as she said the words. No one can do such work as she was doing without deteriorating almost hour by hour. She knew it. and she had passed beyond the point of caring whether it were so or no. “1 don't know what you mean, Rachel,” said Violet. “You let him bring you home from the theatre night after night,” went on Rachel. “You were always talking to him. A girl has no right to behave as you did, unless she means to marry the man. It’s a disgrace—do you understand? —it’s a disgrace.” “You said it was a disgrace to have no name,” said Violet, heavily. “And so it is,” retorted Rachel. “If you had any sense of gratitude you’d know that it’s very kind of Cecil to want to marry you. No other man would do it, whatever you may think.”

"Mr. Hamer is going to marry me,” said Violet. “That's one reason why 1 can't marry—Mr. Cochrane. ’ ” Uh, really! ” said Rachel, with a savage little sneer. “ You think that, do you ? You really imagine that Andrew Hamer would be fool enough to marry a girl like you. He may talk about it, you little fool, but he’ll never go any further.” Violet did not answer. Her silence seemed to goad Rachel to fury. “ You don’t suppose Hamer will oare for you any more, now he knows all about you ?” she said “ Why, you’ll never see him again, probably. You’ve got to put him out of your head and marry Cecil. There’s no choice for you, do you hear ?” “I’m going to marry Mr. Hamer, Rachel. I can’t.” Rachel burst into a harsh laugh. “ But Cecil is going to marry you meanwhile,” she said. “Look here, I’ve done my best for you. I’ve made Cecil let you alone and leave it to me to talk to you. But if you won’t do as I tell you, I can’t do any more. Will you marry him, or won’t you ?” “ I can’t.” “ Very well.” Rachel turned savagely upon her heel. “If that’s your answer to me we must see what Cecil hinjself can do with you. I shall leave you to him. She turned as she reached the door, and glanced round at the girl again with some odd, indefinable impulse in her mind. Violet Drummond was leaning back in her chair. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and her colourless face was lifted towards the hopelesslooking sky. In the instant’s silence Rachel heard her murmur : “If Mr. Hamer would only come. If he would only come to help me.” The next moment Rachel stood on the landing with the door closed behind her, and every muscle of her face was hard and unyielding as stone.

CHAPTER XXIII. AT THE ELEVENTH HOUK. It was growing dark by this time, but the gas in the sitting-room had not been lighted. Rachel, coming into the room in the shadowy twilight, rang the bell furiously, and when the servant appeared she had a blaze of light turned on. She had no occupation, however. She turned over a pile of magazines and newspapers with impatient violence, only to toss them all away. Then she took up a paperbacked novel that Cecil had brought in that morning. It was new to her, and she threw herself into a chair and began to read it with a certain fierce concentration. She turned page after page rapidly. Two hours passed, and she had nearly finished the book. but. she was still alone. At last the. door opened sharply and Cecil Cochrane came in. Rachel lifted her eyes and glanced at him. It was a curious glance. The antagonism and repulsion in it was so entirely unconscious.” “ What have you come back for ?” she said. “You didn’t order dinner till half-past seven.” “I know that,” answered Cochrane. He spoke coolly enough, but his tones were unusually crisp and distinct, a fact which, with him, always implied a large amount of excitement. The sullenness of his appearance had disappeared. He looked keen and decided . “ I have not come back for dinner,” he went on. “ I’ve come back because I’ve run up against a piece of luck this afternoon.” “ What, is it ?” said Rachel. Her brother came and sat down near her, making himself particularly comfortable. “ Have you had a talk with our little fool upstairs ?” he asked. “ Yes.” “ And have you made the impression you calculated on making ?” He. paused, but Rachel did not answer. Her face was turned away from him, and he could see only the hard outline of her profile. He laughed. There was a touch of mockery in the sound, and he was evidently in high spirits.

“ Well, don’t trouble to answer,” he said. “Naturally you don’t care to own that you’re less clever than you thought. She’s as obstinate as a mule, I suppose ; and as stupid ?” “ If you ever make her marry you.” said Rachel, speaking between shut teeth. “ I’m very much mistaken.” Cecil Coehrane laughed again. “ Come,” he said, “ T call that pretty

cool, my girl. Considering that this precious scheme of yours took it as a matter of course tnat we should be able to do what we liked with her, it’s rather serene cheek of you to sit there and say that that part of the programme—rather an important part, on the whole—can’t be carried out.” “ 1 can’t help it,” she said.” That’s what 1 think.” Cochrane changed his position. He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. " Then it’s just as well I see the matter differently,” he said. “ And the stroke of luck of which I told you is so much the more opportune. For I mean to marry her, you see, whether she likes it or not.” “That’s not so easy, unfortunately,” returned his sister. “ You can take her to church, of course, but you can’t force her into going through the service When you’ve got her there, and no man would marry her to you under those circumstances if you could.” “ I don’t intend to take her to church,” said Cochrane. “ Oh, well, before the registrar then,” said Rachel, impatiently. “The same objections apply there.” “I don’t intend to take her before the registrar,” said Cochrane. Rachel turned her head slowly and looked at him for the first time. Her eyes seemed to stand out of her sunken white face with an extraordinary glow. “ I thought vou said you meant to marry her,” she said. She emphasised the last word hut one, and Cecil Cochrane grinned. “I do,” he said. “To marry her legally. Nothing else will serve my purpose, you see.” “ Then perhaps you’ll explain what you mean.” n “ I’m going to marry her here, he said. “ The special licence makes it possible at any time and in any P'ace. I’m going to marry her here in this room, to-morrow afternoon.” “ And what do you think you gam by that ?” said Rachel, incredulously. He drew out his penknife, and carefully pared a rough piece of skin from the tip of his finger. “ It’s quieter than a church for one thing,” he said. “More secluded. “And do you suppose you 11 get a clero-yman to come here and do it r “ 1 know I shall. It isn’t every man who would do it, I grant you. That s where my luck comes in. Ive run up against the right kind of fellow this afternoon.” , . . “ A man who will marry her against hP “ A man who is very ready to oblige me ” said Cochrane. He paused a moment, looking with attentive consideration at his nails. He was very proud of his hands. Then he went. on. “ He’s a fellow named Winthrop. He had a small parish in London, when 1 was obliging my uncle by studying medicine. We saw a good deal of one another in those days, and—l know a good deal about him. His parish is a thing of the past,” he went on. “ There are limits, it seems, even to the toleration of bishops; and he has been loose on an ungrateful world for some time now. I don’t think l ever saw a man so down on his luck. “ What is he doing here ?” asked Rachel. “ Fishing !” was the cool response. “His people live somewhere in the neighbourhood, and he fishes that water at irregular intervals. He has an appointment with a brother or something to-morrow morning, otherwise my wedding would have taken place earlier in the day.” “ And he will come here, and marry her to you in spite of her protests? Cochrane made a deprecating gesture.

“ Not that exactly,” he said, with a sneer. “ Even I am not clever enough to make things quite so smooth as that. He’ll shut his eyes and his ears as far as possible, and he’ll bring a witness with him who will do the same. You will be the other. But, of course, the girl will have to take her part in the proceedings, and she’ll have to sign her name afterwards.” “ She won’t do it,” said Rachel. “ She will,” answered her brother. He drew himself up from his lounging attitude, and the evil force which was always latent in his personality seemed to leap out suddenly into strong relief. “ Look here, Rachel, this is a chance in a thousand. And I’m not going to let it slip. If I can’t manage a dazed, hysterical girl, I don’t know myself ! She’ll be taken by surprise in the first place. You’ll say nothing to her on the subject, you understand.

Winthrop will bluster—that’s his line —and talk about damages and penalties for having brought him here on false pretences, You can stand aloof, if you like. It's quite evident that you’ve no influence with her. I—well, I shan’t bluster, but I think she’ll do as I tell her. Do you see ?” There was a moment’s pause, and then Rachel said in a hard, dry voice : “ Yes, I think I do. What time tomorrow ?” “ Five o’clock,” was the answer. “It should have been earlier. The sooner it’s done the better. But, as I told you, Winthrop has business, and he won’t put it off. How long did she sleep ?” “ Till about three o’clock,” answered Rachel. She did not tell her brother that she had waked the girl. “ How was she ? Excited ?” “Quite quiet. Half-stupid.” Cochrane paused, reflecting. “ Don’t give her another opiate,” he said. “We don’t want her absolutely impervious. Leave her alone as much as possible. If she’s a little nervous by to-morrow afternoon it won’t hurt. Now I’m going out again, and I daresay I shall be late. Winthrop’s going to dine with me, to settle one or two details.” One item in her brother’s instructions Rachel Cochrane obeyed implicitly that evening. She never went to Violet Drummond. She sent some dinner to her by a chambermaid, but she herself remained alone in the sit-ting-room until long after twelve o’clock had struck. She took up another book, but she did not read. She sat gazing blankly at its pages, her face so set as to be almost expressionless. At last she rose, laying her book deliberately on the table and clenching her hand till the knuckles showed white. “It shall be !” she said, half-aloud. “ It shall be !”

She turned out the light and went upstairs to the room which she shared with Violet. It was very quiet there. The gas was turned low, and the girl was in bed. She was asleep again, and her face showed white even against the whiteness of the pillow. Rachel glanced at her, then turned away with a fierce movement of involuntary hatred. She went to the chair in which Violet had sat that afternoon, and sat down in it almost unconsciously. “It shall be I” she said again. Her lips were dry and compressed. “ Why not ?” She paused again, and then, as though they had dwelt in her mind ever since, the words which Violet had used that afternoon rose involuntarily to her lips. “ If Mr Hamer would only come ! ” she said. “ When he does come—when he knows !” A spasm of intolerable pain, a very agony of despair passed across her face ; and she put up her hands to her throat as though she were suffocating. “ Oh,” she cried, “ I can’t do it. I can’t.” She paused so, her breath coming in gasps, her face almost convulsed. Then quite suddenly, swept on as it seemed by a wild tide of passion, she sprang up, rushed across the room to the bedside and shook the sleeping girl wildly. “Sylvia!” she cried. “Wake up! Wake up ! Wake up! I’ve something to tell you.” With a start and a little half- uttered cry, Violet Drummond awoke and sat up in bed. The effects of the opiate were evidently passing off, and it had left her nerves, as such things are apt to do, too highly strung. Her eyes were wide and bright. “ What is it ?” she said, in a breathless, uneven voice. “ Rachel, don't ! I’m frightened ! Don’t ! She was pleading against she hardly knew what. But Rachel was too hardly driven by her own excitement to notice the change in her. “ Sylvia,” she said, “ I’m going to send you home. Don’t shake like that but listen to me. If you stay here Cecil will marry you. He’ll marry you whether you will or no.” “ He can’t, Rachel,” said the girl, quickly. “ Nobody can be married if they won’t.” “ He can !” said Rachel. “ You don’t know him. He can and he will. And you’d be better off dead than Cecil’s wife. Besides ” —Rachel’s voice grew thin—“ there are other reasons.” There was that in her tone which seemed to affect the girl almost without her own comprehension. She

caught suddenly at Rachel’s hand, and said in a wild, terrified whisper: “ Oh, Rachel, Rachel, what am I to do ? Oh, Rachel, don't let him.” Rachel’s hand closed firmly over the clinging fingers. “I won’t !” she said, firmly. “I’m going to send you home—home to your own people. Look—your name is Violet Drummond, and you live in the country—in the North of England. Try to remember it as I tell it you ! You have no mother, and you live alone with your father. Surely, surely, you remember your father ?”

She was holding the girl’s hands in both her own, and looking into her face with eyes so eager and intent that it seemed as if she must force the recollection into the half-dormant brain by sheer strength of will. But there was no touch of comprehension in Violet Drummond’s face. It was bewildered and terrified nothing more, though her brows were drawn together in an agonised effort to follow Rachel’s words.

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, faintly. “ I don’t know, Rachel.”

“ You keep house for your father,” went on Rachel insistently. “ You go about the village and see the poor people.” She paused, and a wild light leapt into her eyes, while her face flushed crimson, as if with a sudden thought. “And there’s someone else,” she said; “ someone beside your father. Think, Violet. Don’t you remember that other person, the man you used to love ?”

For a moment Rachel held the girl’s hand in an agonised grip, as her eyes searched the terrified face for a gleam of response. None was forthcoming; and with one long despairing breath she began to speak again, in rapid, business-like tones. “ I’m going to take you to the station before it’s light in the morning. I’m going to send you back to your father. Don’t tremble so for Heaven’s sake ! Don’t you see that you’ll be safe with him ?” “ I don’t know, Rachel ! ” repeated Violet. She was shaking from head to foot. “ I should be afraid. I should not know what to do.” “ But you must,” said Rachel. “She stamped her foot on the floor as she spoke with a flash of impotent passion. “ If you stay here, Cecil will marry you ! There’s no other way of preventing it. Don’t you understand,” she went on, fiercely, “ that if you do as 1 tell you, you’ll get to Andrew Hamer ? Tell your father about Andrew Hamer, and he’ll write to him and lie’ll come and ” The voice had grown hoarse and almost inaudible. She stopped abruptly. “The only thing you have to do is to go home,” she finished harshly. “But I can’t!” cried Violet. “I don’t what it means! I daren't!” “Do you mean that you daren’t go alone?” said Rachel. She was looking down at the quivering, frightened face with excited eyes, in which contempt strove in vain to become patience. “Do you mean that you are afraid of the journey? Then I’ll go with you. I’ll take you home myself. It doesn’t make much difference after all. Will you come if 1 go with you ?” Violet drew her hands from Rachel's hold and threw herself suddenly

face downwards on her pillows, breaking into wild sobs and tears. “No!” she cried. “No! no! I don’t believe you, Rachel! I don’t know what you’re going to do with me. 1 daren’t! I daren’t!” As though a sudden touch from some invisible hand had turned her into stone, Rachel stood motionless, the fever of her excitement frozen within her, looking down at the sobbing, shuddering girl. She did not speak. At last, she said, in a strange, far-away voice: “Do you mean that you don't trust me? That you think I’m deceiving you for a purpose of my own?” Violets sobs grew more convulsive. “I’m afraid!” she said. “Oh, I'm afraid of you, Rachel.” “And you won’t go with me? You won’t even go by yourself where I tell you to go?” “I daren’t!” cried the girl. She seemed to have broken altogether through the last hold of the numbness whieh had fallen upon her She was evidently half beside herself with nervous fear. “I don’t know where it is! I daren’t! I daren't!” Rachel turned away with a little gesture of absolute despair. "Then Heaven help us both!” she said, She went acroiss the room mechanically, and sat down in the chair. It was her face now that looked stunned. Presently she seemed to become aware that Violet’s tears passed into something like hysterics. Going over to the washhand stand, she took up a little medicine bottle and looked at it. “He said, ‘Don’t give it to her!’” she said to herself, a faint involuntary sneer crossing her lips. “So I suppose I’d better! Anyhow, I can’t let her rouse the house.” She poured out a dose into a medicine glass and went uip to the bed. "Drink this!” she said, in a low, authoritative voice. “Drink it at once.” Even while she shrank and shuddered, Violet obeyed her half unconsciously, and Rachel laid her down again, and covered her up. “Lie still!” she said, with the same mechanical authority of manner. “Try to be quiet!” Half an hour later Violet was sleeping heavily. Rachel was sitting by the window. She sat there all night, and then, when the first streak of light came in the sky, and the first sounds of life made themselves heard in the house, she rose to put on her jacket and hat. Then she went out of the room, through the hardly roused house, into the still silent streets. She went to the principal telegraph office in the town and there she wrote the following telegram, addressed to Andrew Hamer at his rooms in London: “Come to me at once. Don’t delay a moment. —Sylvia Maynard.” She added the address of the hotel where they were staying and gave it to the clerk. It was the night clerk, who was just going off duty. He was sleepy and inattentive, and she had to spell the message over to him word by word. Then she went out into the street again and paused for a moment in the rapidly strengthening daylight. “It’s a chance,” she said to herself. “If he's there he will be in time. If not ” She broke off, and turned her face once more towards the hotel. (To be Continued.)