LITMIR.BIZ

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last, with a wave of the hand, as if he were putting some decision on one side, Gideon Rolfe turned to her and motioned her to the window-seat. “Una,” he said, “last night you were wondering why your lot should be different from that of other girls; you were wondering why I have kept you here in Warden, and out of the world. It is so, is it not?”

      She did not answer in words, but her eyes said “yes,” plainly.

      Gideon Rolfe sighed, and passed his hand over his brow; it was a hand hardened by toil, but it was not the hand of a peasant, any more than was his tone or his words those of one.

      “Una, I have foreseen this question; I have been expecting it, and I had resolved that when it came I would answer it. But,” and his lips twitched, “I cannot do it – I cannot,” and his brow contracted as if he were suffering some great, mental anguish. “For my sake, do not press me. In time to come, sooner or later, you must know the secret of your life, you must learn why and wherefore your whole life has been spent in seclusion; you have guessed that there is some mystery, some story – there is. It must remain a mystery still. For your own sake I dare not draw aside the veil which conceals; for your own sake my lips are for the present sealed. Child, can you tell me that, secluded and lonely as your life has been, it has been an unhappy one?”

      “Father!” she murmured, and her eyes filled slowly.

      “God forgive me if it has been!” he said, sadly. “I have striven to make it a happy one.”

      Silently she rose and laid her hand upon his arm and put up her lips to kiss him, but with a gentle gesture he put her away from him.

      “Una, listen to me. All my life I have had but one aim, one purpose, your happiness and welfare. For your sake I left the world and an honored name – ” he stopped suddenly, warned by the gentle wonder of her gaze, and with a faint color in his face hurried on – “for your sake, and yours only. Do you think that it is by choice that I have kept you hidden from the world? No, but of necessity. Una, between the world and you yawns a wide gulf. On this side are peace, and innocence, and happiness; on the other,” and his voice grew grave and solemn, “lie misery and – shame.” White and wondering, she gazed at him, and the innocent wonder in the beautiful face recalled him to himself. “Enough! You can trust me, Una; it is no idle, meaningless warning. Remember what I have said, when your thoughts turn to the world beyond the forest, when you grow weary and impatient with the quiet life which, though it may seem sad and weary, is the only one you can ever know without passing that gulf of which I have spoken.”

      “And now I want you to give me a promise, Una.”

      “A promise, father?” she echoed, in a low voice.

      “Yes; I want you to promise me that if this – this young man should come, as he has threatened to do – that if he should come to you, and speak to you, you will not listen, will not speak to him.”

      An impatient frown knitted Gideon Rolfe’s brow.

      “Is this so much to ask you?” he said, in a low voice. “Is it so grave a thing to demand of you that you should avoid a man whom you have seen but twice in your life, one whom you know to be wicked and worthless?”

      “Girl,” he exclaimed, in low, harsh accents, “has the curse fallen upon you – already? Has he bewitched you? Speak? Why do you not speak? Has all the careful guarding of years been set at naught and rendered of no avail by the mere sight of one of his race, by a few idle words spoken by one of his hateful kin?”

      He grasped her shoulder; instantly, with a revulsion of feeling, he withdrew his hand, and bent his head with a gesture almost of humility.

      “Una, forgive me. You see how this unmans me – can you not understand how great must be the danger from which I wish to save you? Promise me what I ask you, for your own sake – ay, and for his.”

      “For his?” she murmured.

      “Yes, for his. Let him but attempt to cross your path again, and I will not hold my hand. I held it once – would to Heaven I had not! I say, for his sake, promise that you will hold no speech with him!”

      “Father, what has he done to make you hate him so?” she asked.

      “I cannot, I will not tell you more than this: His race has ruined my life and yours – ruined it beyond all reparation here and hereafter. No more. I wait for your promise.”

      “I promise,” she said.

      “Good,” he said. “I can trust you, child.”

      “Yes, you can trust me,” she said, in a low voice; then with slow, listless steps she crossed the room and stole up-stairs.

      CHAPTER XI

      The Savage, wholly unconscious of, and totally indifferent to, the fact that his every footstep was watched by Stephen, entered the “Bush” Inn and went straight to his room, the little knot of regular customers, who were drinking and smoking in the parlor, either rising respectfully as he entered or maintaining an equally respectful silence until he was out of hearing.

      “Mr. Jack’s a fine fellow,” said the landlord, looking at the fire solemnly. “Did you notice his face as he went through? I’m afraid it’s all over with the old squire. Well, well, rest his soul, I say. I’m not one to bear grudges against the dead.”

      There was, if not a hearty, a unanimous assent to this dutiful sentiment, and the landlord, encouraged, ventured a little further, looking first over his shoulder to see if the door was shut, and then glancing at a little wrinkled faced man who sat in the corner by the fireplace, and looked, in his rusty black suit, like a lawyer’s clerk, as indeed he was.

      “All over now, Mr. Skettle,” said the landlord, with a little cough. “I wonder – ahem – who’ll be the next squire?”

      The old clerk peered out from under his hairless brows, and shook his head with a dry smile; it was a very fair imitation of his master’s, Mr. Hudsley’s, manner, and never failed to impress the company at the “Bush.”

      “Aha!” he breathed. “Hem – yes. Time will prove – time will prove, Jobson.”

      Jobson, the landlord, looked round and winked with impressive admiration, as much as to say, “Deep fellow, Skettle; knows all about it, mind you, but not a word!”

      “Well,” said the parish clerk, with a shake of the head, “if wishing would make the mare to go, I know who’d be the Squire o’ Hurst,” and he pointed with his pipe to the ceiling, above which the Savage was thoughtfully pacing to and fro.

      “We’ve had enough o’ Davenants,” began the miller; but Jobson stopped him with a warning gesture.

      “No names, South – no names; this air a public house, and I’m a man as minds my own business.”

      “So was the last squire,” retorted the miller, who was not to be put down – “leastways, he didn’t meddle or help his neighbors. Not one shilling have I took from the Hurst since I was that high. Is there a man in this room as can say he’ll be a penny the worse for Squire Ralph’s death?

      “And from what I see it seems to me that if things go on as they appear to be going, we shan’t be much better for the new squire, if the name’s to be the same.”

      “A nice spoken gentleman, Mr. Stephen,” muttered the tailor, from behind the table.

      The miller smiled and shook his head.

      “There’s some grain as grinds so soft that you can’t keep it on the ground from the wind; but it don’t make good bread, neighbor. No! Now the youngster up above,” and he jerked his head toward the ceiling, “he comes of a different branch – same tree, mind yer, but a healthier branch. It will be good news for Hurst Leigh if it’s found that Master Jack is to be our head.”

      “Nothing soft about Mr. Jack. If all we hear be true, it’s a pretty wild branch of the tree he comes from.”

      “They say he’s wild. No doubt; he always was. I can remember him a boy home for the holidays.

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