Dutch the Diver; Or, A Man's Mistake
Page 52
STORY THREE, CHAPTER FOUR.
HOPELESS.
If there is anything obstinate in this life it is Time, whom poets andpainters are so fond of depicting as a goose-winged, forelocked,bald-headed, scraggy old gentleman, exceedingly hard up for clothes, butbearing an old, overgrown egg-boiler, and a scythe with a shaft that,however well adapted for mowing in his own particular fields, would, forwant of proper bend and handles, if he were set to cut grass in someEssex or Sussex mead, make that old back of his double down in a grandercurve than ever, and give him such a fit of lumbago as was neversuffered by any stalk of the human corn he delights to level. Just wantthe hours, weeks, and months to seem extended, and they shrink likefourteen-shilling trouser legs. Just want the days to glide by so thatsome blissful moment may be swift to arrive, and one might almost swearthat the ancient hay-maker had been putting his lips to some barrel, andwas lying down behind a hedge for a long nap. He had been busy enoughthough at Walbrook, as many a defaulting bill acceptor knew to his cost,and small mercy was meted to him by John Richards. The time, too, withMay seemed to speed by, as evening after evening it brought herDecember, in the shape of Tom Brough--always pleasant, cheerful, andapparently happy, if he gained one sad pleasant smile.
For there was a sadness in May Richards' face that was even at timespainful; but she seemed to bear her cares patiently. Only once had shesought to talk to her father, to find him even gentle.
"You had better throw it all aside," he said. "Take my advice, child,you will find it better."
"But I must see those papers, father," she said hoarsely.
She had followed the old man into his office, and stood facing him as helaid one hand upon his great iron safe.
He did not seem to heed her for a few minutes; but at last he spoke.
"You will not destroy them?" he said. "No."
The next minute the great iron door opened with a groan, and he hadplaced a cancelled cheque bearing frank Marr's name on the back, and acouple of other documents before her.
She stood there and read them through, word for word, twice, and thenthey dropped from her hand, and gazing straight before her she slowlyleft the place.
He had sold her, then. He had preferred worldly prosperity to her love,and she had been deceived in him as hundreds of others were every daydeceived by those in whom they trusted. But one document she held tostill--the one in her desk, the little desk that stood by her bed'shead, and that letter she had read night after night, and wept over whenthere was none to see, till the blistering tears had all but obliteratedthe words on the paper. But no tears could wash them out from herheart, where they were burned in by anguish--those few cold formal wordsdictated by her father--that he, Frank Marr, feeling it to be his duty,then and there released her from all promises, and retained to himselfthe right without prejudice to enter into any new engagement.
She had been asked to indite a few lines herself, setting him free onher part, but she could not do it; and now, after the first month ofagony, she was striving hard to prepare herself for what she felt to beher fate.
But all seemed in vain, and one day, almost beside herself with the longstrain, Keziah found her pacing the room and wringing her thin hands.
"You sha'n't marry him, and that's an end of it!" cried Keziah fiercely."I'll go over and see him to-night and talk to him; and if I can't winhim round my name isn't Bay. I'll marry him myself if it can't be doneany other how, that I will. Cheer up, then, my darling. Don't cry,please, it almost breaks my heart to see you. He's a good old fellow,that he is; and I'm sure when he comes to know how you dread it allhe'll give it up. If I only had that Mr Frank--What? Don't, my littleone? Then I won't; only it does seems so hard. Married on the shortestday, indeed! I daresay he'd like to be. There's no day so short nor solong ever been made that shall see you Tom Brough's wife, so I tell him.Now, only promise me that you'll hold up."
"Don't talk to me, please. I shall be better soon," sobbed May; andthen after an interval of weeping, "'Ziah, I know you love me: when I'mdead, will you think gently of me, and try to forgive all my littlepettish ways?"
"When you're what?" cried Keziah.
"When I'm dead; for I feel that it can't be long first. I used to smileabout broken hearts and sorrow of that kind, but, except when I'm asleepand some bright dream comes, all seems here so black and gloomy that Icould almost feel glad to sleep always--always, never to wake again."
"O, O, O!" cried Keziah, bursting into a wail of misery, but only tostop short and dash away a tear right and left with the opposite cornersof her apron. "There, I won't have it, and if you talk to me again likethat, I'll--I'll--I'll go to Mr Brough at once. No, my child, I'm notgoing to sit still and see you murdered before my very eyes if I knowit. But though I don't want to be cruel I must tell you that your pooraffections really were misplaced; for that Frank Marr is as well off nowand as happy as can be. He lodges, you know, at Pash's, and they've gotall the best furnished rooms that he got ready for me; not that I wasgoing to leave you, my pet; and he's making money, and taking his motherout of town, and all sorts, I can tell you."
It did not escape Keziah's eye how every word was eagerly drunk in, andfeeling at last that she was but feeding and fanning a flame thatscorched and seared the young life before her, she forbore, and soonafter left the room.
"But if I don't see Mr Tom Brough, and put a stop to this marriage, andhis preparations, and new house, and furnishing," she cried, "my nameisn't Keziah Bay?"
And Keziah kept her word.