The Solitary Farm

by Fergus Hume

  CHAPTER X

  A LOVERS' MEETING

  Having made up her mind to seek an explanation from Mrs. Tunks regardingthe vision of the negro in the crystal--that is, if the old woman reallyhad beheld the same--Bella lost no time in executing her purpose. In twoor three minutes she hastily reassumed her hat, cloak, and gloves, whichshe had removed while conversing with Mrs. Coppersley. Then taking hersunshade, she left the Manor-house by the front door. In the dining-roomshe could hear the refined tones of Vand and the coarse voice of Mrs.Coppersley, as they laughed and chattered in the most amiable manner.Evidently the pair had quite forgotten the recent tragedy, which hadinvested Bleacres with so sinister a reputation. With a nervousshiver--for the merriment seemed to be singularly ill-timed--Bellaclosed the door softly, and walked down the corn-path. Glancing rightand left, and straight ahead, she could see nothing of the black man,who had appeared and disappeared so mysteriously. Like the witches in"Macbeth," he had made himself into thin air, and had vanished.

  Bella felt remarkably uneasy, and on the face of it had great cause tobe so. Apparently, and she had not the least doubt of this, Durgo wasCyril's servant, who came in search of him. She rather wondered that herlover should have so uncivilised an attendant, and resolved that if theymarried she would endeavour to get him to dispense with the services ofthe man. But what struck her most, were the questions of Durgo. Heevidently expected Cyril to meet Huxham and to have a quarrel. Also thestated time--of two weeks and some days--corresponded with the midnightvisit of Cyril to the Manor-house. She recollected then that the visitwas paid, not at midnight, but about eight o'clock, and saw in themistake she had made the perplexity of her bewildered brain. With agroan she tried to clear her understanding by swift movement, for shefelt unable to follow any regular train of thought.

  Nevertheless, Durgo's innocent speech re-awakened her old suspicions,though she dreaded to recall them. What if, after all, Cyril had beenthe visitor of a fortnight since? In that case, since Huxham had beenfound dead, Cyril must have struck the blow. The horror of the mereidea, which placed a barrier between them, made her turn cold, and sheresolutely put it from her. Cyril was the man she loved; the man in whomshe had every reason to believe. He had solemnly sworn that he wasinnocent of her father's blood, and if she entertained a grain ofaffection for him she was bound to believe his word, even in the face ofstrong evidence to the contrary. He must be guiltless; he _was_guiltless, as she assured herself; his looks and words and bearingconvinced her of his guiltlessness. In one way or another, the promisedexplanation would solve the difficult problem. But when would thatexplanation be made?

  Then, again, Mrs. Tunks must know somewhat of the truth, since she hadso truly foretold the coming of the negro. Bella, entirely lacking themystical sense, had no belief in visions, and assumed that the oldwoman, for her own ends, had played a comedy, based upon actual fact.Taking this view, the girl walked towards the hut of the witch-wife,resolute to learn how much Mrs. Tunks knew concerning Cyril's past life.Something she must know, else she could not have hinted at theappearance of the negro. Bella herself was ignorant that her lover hadso sinister a servant, but it seemed that Mrs. Tunks was betterinformed. And since the old hag knew so much, she must know more. A fewquestions would doubtless bring forth the information, and then Bellafelt that she would know how to act. But the position was extremelydifficult, and the skein of life very tangled.

  Thinking in this desultory way, she reached the end of the corn-field,and was about to turn along the pathway leading to the hut, when sheheard her name called anxiously. Looking up, she saw Dora Ankers on thehither side of the boundary channel.

  "Oh, Bella! I am so glad to see you," sang out the Marshelyschool-mistress volubly. "I really didn't want to go to the Manor andmeet that horrid aunt of yours. Come with me, dear; he is waiting at mycottage."

  "Who is waiting?" demanded Bella, greatly surprised by this address.

  "Oh, my dear, as if to a girl in love there is any he but the one he inthe world," said Dora, who was sentimental and impatient.

  "Do you mean to say that Mr. Lister----"

  "Mr. Lister? Oh, you cruel-hearted girl: do you call him that?"

  "I mean Cyril," said Bella hurriedly; "is he----"

  "Yes, he is. He won't come to the Manor, and can't very well see you inhis own rooms, as that nasty-minded Mrs. Block might say things. She issuch a gossip you know. In despair he came to me, poor dear, so I askedhim to wait in my sitting-room while I came for you."

  Bella drew herself up stiffly. She did not desire to appear too willingto obey the summons of her lover. Womanlike, she wished him to say thathe was in the wrong, so that her pride might be saved. "I am going toMrs. Tunks'."

  "What for?" asked Dora, bluntly.

  "Never mind," replied Miss Huxham, unwilling to confess that she wasdealing with uncanny things beyond the veil. "I must go."

  Dora tripped lightly across the narrow planks, and slipped her armwithin that of her friend. "You shall do nothing of the sort, you coldthing," she declared. "Poor Mr. Lister is quite broken-hearted by theway in which you have treated him."

  "Oh!" Bella became stiffer than ever. "Has he said----"

  "He has said nothing! he is too much a man to say anything. But I sawhis poor, pale, peaked face, and----"

  "Does he look ill?" Bella was seized with a sudden qualm.

  "Ill?" Miss Ankers' gestures and looks became eloquent. "Dear, he isdying."

  "Oh, Dora!" Miss Huxham kilted up her skirts and fairly ran across theplanks. "Why didn't you come for me before?"

  "You don't seem to be in a hurry to come now," laughed Dora, crossing inher turn; "yet the poor, dear fellow is dying--to see you."

  "Where has he been all this time?"

  "I'm sure I don't know, dear. He came straight from London last night,and went to my cottage this morning to see me. I was in church, so hecame again in the afternoon, and asked me to help him. Oh, my dear, heis handsome, and I felt that I could do anything for him. I wish he hadmade love to me," sighed the romantic school-mistress; "but all he did,was to ask me to bring you to my cottage for an interview. So come,dear, come, and save the poor darling from an early grave."

  Bella needed no urging, for she was genuinely concerned over the news,and sped towards Marshely like a fawn, with Miss Ankers at her heels.Dora had no difficulty in keeping up, as she was a slim, small, daintywoman, more like a fairy than mere flesh and blood. In spite of her age,and she confessed to thirty-five, she had a pink-and-white skin, goldenhair, and clear blue eyes. Dressed as she was, in pale blue, with manyribbons and ornaments, she looked like a well-arrayed doll, just out ofa satin-lined box. But for all her innocent looks, Miss Ankers was astern school-mistress, and during business hours behaved with greatseverity. Out of them, however, she presented herself to the villageworld in her true colours, as a sentimental, airy, sweet-tempered littlecreature, who was everybody's friend and nobody's enemy. Bella wasalways fond of her, but at this moment felt more attached to her thanever--as she had every reason to be, seeing that Miss Ankers had givenup her snug sitting-room for a lovers' meeting, and had actually broughtthat meeting about.

  "You're my good angel, Dora," said Bella, kissing her friend, as theydrew near the cottage, on the outskirts of Marshely.

  "Oh, what waste!" remonstrated Dora, opening her china-blue eyes totheir widest. "What will Mr. Lister say to your throwing away kisses onme?"

  Bella laughed, for her heart had grown unexpectedly light. She had afirm belief that all misunderstandings were about to be cleared upbetween her lover and herself. Also she acknowledged to herself, withgreat and thankful joy, that Cyril, in spite of her misgivings, hadreturned to her. Seeing how she had doubted and accused him, he mighthave departed for ever, and with every reason for such a course. Butapparently he loved her so devotedly that he was willing to remain andexplain himself. It was no wonder that Bella's heart leaped for joy,since the cloud, which had for so long overshadowed the sunshine oflove, was
about to be dissipated. She almost danced into Ankers' smallgarden.

  "Mr. Lister is in the sitting-room dear," said that arch-plotter,pushing her companion into the cottage. "You'll find him there. I haveto go to the church to run over the evening hymns."

  Miss Huxham knew that this was a mere excuse, but loved Dora all themore for making it. Miss Ankers was much too romantic to mar the meetingby presenting herself as an inconvenient third. Therefore she turnedaway laughing, and Bella, anxious to lose no moment of joy, entered thesmall sitting-room with a bright, expectant smile. It died away at thesight of Lister's sombre face.

  The young man was seated in an arm-chair, with a newspaper lying on hisknees. But he was not reading, as his eyes were fixed darkly on the doorthrough which Bella had just entered. For the instant, he did not appearto be aware of her presence; then he rose gravely and bowed. Even in themidst of her dismay at this reception, Bella was woman enough to notehow spruce, and trim, and singularly handsome he looked. Certainly hisface was grave and pale, but beyond this she could not see the dyinglooks which Dora had so eloquently described. When they came face toface an embarrassing silence ensued. Bella was the first to speak.

  "Are you not pleased to see me, Cyril?" she faltered.

  "I am very pleased," he returned gravely, and pushed forward a chair."Will you not be seated?"

  "Not until you explain why you receive me in this way," she declaredindignantly. "You send for me, and I come at once only to finddispleased looks."

  "Our last interview explains my looks, Bella."

  "No, it doesn't," she cried, up in arms at once; "I admitted my fault insuspecting you then, and asked your pardon. You left me without a kiss,and--and----" She stopped with an angry gesture. "It seems to me that Iam the one who has the right to be displeased."

  "No," said Lister, decidedly. "I love you very dearly, as you know;but----"

  "How can I tell that you love me dearly?"

  "My desire to meet you again shows that I do. Many a man would have leftyou for ever on learning, as I did, your cruel suspicions. You have noright to be displeased, as you said a moment since. I am the wrongedperson, for if you really loved me you would believe nothing againstme."

  "I do not; I do not."

  "But you did."

  "Only for a single moment. Oh!"--Bella uttered a cry of despair--"I amonly a human being, and I saw you--as I thought--entering the house. Iknew that on my account you had quarrelled with my father, so what couldI think but that you had killed him? I don't pretend to be an angel."She broke off and sat down, pressing her hands hard together, thenlooked up with feigned self-control. "We discussed all this before," shesaid coldly, "did you invite me here to ask me to defend myself again?"

  "No. I asked you here to learn from your own lips that you believe me tobe guiltless."

  "I do. I swear I do." Bella rose in her excitement. "And I ask yourpardon for my wicked suspicions."

  "Bella!" He sprang forward and caught her hands within his own. "Thenyou really and truly love me?"

  "If you had gone away," she breathed faintly in his ear, "I should havedied."

  Cyril drew her closely to his breast. "My darling," he whispered,smoothing her hair, "I love you too dearly to leave you. I ask yourpardon for my harsh words. On the face of it, I don't see what you coulddo but suspect me. It was unreasonable for me to ask you to dootherwise. That you believe my mere word, in spite of the strongevidence against me, shows that you love me as dearly and strongly as Ilove you. So far, all that is right. We trust one another."

  "Wholly. Entirely. To the death we trust one another."

  "That is well." Cyril sat down in the arm-chair, and drew Bella on tohis knees. "Unity is strength. With you by my side I am not afraid."

  "Then you have been afraid?" she asked softly.

  "Of losing your love--yes. But now I am satisfied on that point, thereis another thing that makes me afraid."

  "What is it?"

  "I may be accused of this murder. Other people may have seen me, as yousaw me, dear."

  "Then it _was_ you?" she gasped.

  "No, no! I have explained myself. If necessary, I can put forward an_alibi_."

  "Who was the man then?"

  "I can't tell you that." Cyril pushed her away, and rose much agitated.

  "Then you know?" Bella stood back from him doubtfully.

  "I can't be sure. I think--that is, I fancy--Bella, don't ask meanything just now. Later I may be able to explain."

  "And you will explain?"

  "If it be possible. Remember, I said that I _might_ be able to explain,but of this I cannot be certain."

  "I do not understand," sighed the girl, seating herself again. "Cyril,has this matter anything to do with you?"

  "The matter of the murder?"

  "Yes. I don't mean to ask if you are guilty, as I know you are not. Butare you connected in any way with the matter?"

  "No," he rejoined promptly, "if I were, I should be an accomplice afterthe fact. All the same----" He paused, looking paler than ever, and hisface became peaked and haggard. "Don't ask me anything yet," hemurmured.

  "I am willing to trust you, dear," said Bella quietly, "but, as youremarked yourself some time ago, other people----"

  He interrupted her. "Other people?"

  "Yes. Some one else did see you on that evening."

  "The person saw my double," corrected Cyril. "I was in London, as I toldyou, and as I can prove. Who is this person?"

  "Silas Pence."

  "Ah!" Lister's hands clenched. "He hates me because you are to be mywife. He will go to the police."

  "I don't think so," said Bella slowly. "He threatened to go, but as yethe has held his tongue."

  "Why, when he hates me so?"

  "I think--I think," said Bella slowly, "that Mr. Pence knows more aboutthis matter than he chooses to admit."

  Cyril uttered an exclamation. "Do you suspect him?"

  "Not of the murder," she replied promptly; "he is too weak and timid acreature to commit a crime. But I know that he was poor; now he isunexpectedly rich, and we are aware," she added with emphasis, "that onehundred pounds was stolen from my father's safe on the night of themurder."

  "But surely you do not connect a harmless man, like Pence, with thecrime?"

  "I say nothing, because I know nothing, Cyril. But if Mr. Pence isentirely innocent, why does he not accuse you, whom he hates."

  "He has no grounds to go upon, dear."

  Bella shook her head. "He thinks that he has," she answered, "as hebelieved it was you he saw when he met your double at the boundarychannel. Since he would like to see you in trouble, the very fact thathe delays telling the police shows that his own conscience is not easy."

  "It is strange," assented Lister. "However, if he does accuse me, I canprove an _alibi_."

  "But what about your double?"

  The young man turned away abruptly to the window. "I can say nothing onthat point at present."

  "When will you explain?"

  "I can't say; sooner or later." Lister, with his hands in his pockets,looked out of the window as though to avoid further questioning. Thisbehaviour puzzled Bella, as she felt sure that Cyril could tell her muchif inclined to do so. But it was odd that he should so decline. Sheabruptly reverted to an earlier thought in her mind. "You did not tellme that you had a negro servant called Durgo."

  Lister wheeled sharply. "I have no servant, negro or otherwise," he saidin a decisive tone. "Why do you say that?"

  Bella, wondering still more, gave him details, which Cyril heard with aperplexed frown. He made no comment until she had finished. "You saythat this man recognised my portrait. In that case I can guess"--he didnot finish his sentence, but became paler than ever.