Oh misery! misery!"
One moment her heart was warm with rapture, the next it was cold with despair. But the joy was blind love; the despair was reason.
She waited, and waited, but no summons came.
She could not deny herself the sound of his voice. She crept down the stairs, and into her father's library, separated only by thin folding-doors from the room where Henry Little was with Jael Dence.
Meantime Jael Dence opened the door to Henry Little, and, putting her fingers to her lips, led him into the dining-room and shut the door.
Now, as his suspicions were already excited, this reception alarmed him seriously. As soon as ever they were alone, he seized both Jael's hands, and, looking her full in the face, said:
"One word--is she alive?"
"She is."
"Thank god! Bless the tongue that tells me that. My good Jael! my best friend!" And, with that, kissed her heartily on both cheeks.
She received this embrace like a woman of wood; a faint color rose, but retired directly, and left her cheek as pale as before.
He noticed her strange coldness, and his heart began to quake.
"There is something the matter?" he whispered.
"There is."
"Something you don't like to tell me?"
"Like to tell you! I need all my courage, and you yours."
Say she is alive, once more."
"She is alive, and not likely to die; but she does not care to live now. They told her you were dead; they told her you were false; appearances were such she had no chance not to be deceived. She held out for a long time; but they got the better of her--her father is much to blame--she is--married."
"Married!"
"Yes!"
"Married!" He leaned, sick as death, against the mantel-piece, and gasped so terribly that Jael's fortitude gave way, and she began to cry.
After a long time he got a word or two out in a broken voice.
"The false--inconstant--wretch! Oh Heaven! what I have done and suffered for her--and now married!--married! And the earth doesn't swallow her, nor the thunder strike her! Curse her, curse her husband, curse her children! may her name be a by-word for shame and misery--"
"Hush! hush! or you will curse your own mad tongue. Hear all, before you judge her."
"I have heard all; she is a wife; she shall soon be a widow.
Thought I was false! What business had she to think I was false?
It is only false hearts that suspect true ones. She thought me dead? Why? Because I was out of sight. She heard there was a dead hand found in the river. Why didn't she go and see it? Could all creation pass another hand off on me for hers? No; for I loved her.
She never loved me."
"She loved you, and loves you still. When that dead hand was found, she fell swooning, and lay at death's door for you, and now she has stained her hands with blood for you. She tried to kill her husband, the moment she found you were alive and true, and he had made a fool of her."
"TRIED to kill him! Why didn't she do it? I should not have failed at such work. I love her."
"Blame me for that; I stopped her arm, and I am stronger than she is. I say she is no more to blame than you. You have acted like a madman, and she suffers for it. Why did you slip away at night like that, and not tell me?"
"I left letters to you and her, and other people besides."
"Yes, left them, and hadn't the sense to post them. Why didn't you TELL me? Had ever any young man as faithful and true a friend in any young woman as you had in me? Many a man has saved a woman's life, but it isn't often that a woman fights for a man, and gets the upper hand: yet you gave me nothing in return; not even your confidence. Look the truth in the face, my lad; all your trouble, and all hers, comes of your sneaking out of Hillsborough in that daft way, without a word to me, the true friend, that was next door to you; which I nearly lost my life by your fault; for, if you had told me, I should have seen you off, and so escaped a month's hospital, and other troubles that almost drove me crazy. Don't you abuse that poor young lady before me, or I sha'n't spare you. She is more to be pitied than you are. Folk should look at home for the cause of their troubles; her misery, and yours, it is all owing to your own folly and ingratitude; ay, you may look; I mean what I say--ingratitude."
The attack was so sudden and powerful that Henry Little was staggered and silenced; but an unexpected defender appeared on the scene; one of the folding-doors was torn open, and Grace darted in.
"How dare you say it is his fault, poor ill-used angel! No, no, no, no, I am the only one to blame. I didn't love you as you deserved.
I tried to die for you, and FAILED. I tried to kill that monster for you, and FAILED. I am too weak and silly; I shall only make you more unhapppy. Give me one kiss, my own darling, and then kill me out of the way." With this she was over his knees and round his neck in a moment, weeping, and clutching him with a passionate despair that melted all his anger away, and soon his own tears tell on her like rain.
"Ah, Grace! Grace!" he sobbed, "how could you? how could you?"
"Don't speak unkindly to her," cried Jael, "or she won't be alive a day. She is worse off than you are; and so is he too."
"You mock me; he is her husband. He can make her live with him. He can--" Here he broke out cursing and blaspheming, and called Grace a viper, and half thrust her away from him with horror, and his face filled with jealous anguish: he looked like a man dying of poison.
Then he rose to his feet, and said, with a sort of deadly calm, "Where can I find the man?"
"Not in this house, you may be sure," said Jael; "nor in any house where she is."
Henry sank into his seat again, and looked amazed.
"Tell him all," said Grace. "Don't let him think I do not love him at all."
