"You mean," said Mr Haredale, regarding her with some surprise,"that having made this effort, you are resolved not to persevereand are determined to relapse? This is unworthy of you. I haveoften told you, you should return here. You would be happier herethan elsewhere, I know. As to Barnaby, it"s quite his home."
"And Grip"s," said Barnaby, holding the basket open. The ravenhopped gravely out, and perching on his shoulder and addressinghimself to Mr Haredale, cried--as a hint, perhaps, that sometemperate refreshment would be acceptable--"Polly put the ket-tleon, we"ll all have tea!"
"Hear me, Mary," said Mr Haredale kindly, as he motioned her towalk with him towards the house. "Your life has been an example ofpatience and fortitude, except in this one particular which has often given me great pain. It is enough to know that you werecruelly involved in the calamity which deprived me of an onlybrother, and Emma of her father, without being obliged to suppose(as I sometimes am) that you associate us with the author of ourjoint misfortunes."
"Associate you with him, sir!" she cried.
"Indeed," said Mr Haredale, "I think you do. I almost believethat because your husband was bound by so many ties to ourrelation, and died in his service and defence, you have come insome sort to connect us with his murder."
"Alas!" she answered. "You little know my heart, sir. You littleknow the truth!"
"It is natural you should do so; it is very probable you may,without being conscious of it," said Mr Haredale, speaking more tohimself than her. "We are a fallen house. Money, dispensed withthe most lavish hand, would be a poor recompense for sufferingslike yours; and thinly scattered by hands so pinched and tied asours, it becomes a miserable mockery. I feel it so, God knows," headded, hastily. "Why should I wonder if she does!"
"You do me wrong, dear sir, indeed," she rejoined with greatearnestness; "and yet when you come to hear what I desire yourleave to say--"
"I shall find my doubts confirmed?" he said, observing that shefaltered and became confused. "Well!"
He quickened his pace for a few steps, but fell back again to herside, and said:
"And have you come all this way at last, solely to speak to me?"
She answered, "Yes."
"A curse," he muttered, "upon the wretched state of us proudbeggars, from whom the poor and rich are equally at a distance; theone being forced to treat us with a show of cold respect; the othercondescending to us in their every deed and word, and keeping morealoof, the nearer they approach us.--Why, if it were pain to you(as it must have been) to break for this slight purpose the chainof habit forged through two-and-twenty years, could you not let meknow your wish, and beg me to come to you?"
"There was not time, sir," she rejoined. "I took my resolutionbut last night, and taking it, felt that I must not lose a day--aday! an hour--in having speech with you."
They had by this time reached the house. Mr Haredale paused for amoment, and looked at her as if surprised by the energy of hermanner. Observing, however, that she took no heed of him, butglanced up, shuddering, at the old walls with which such horrorswere connected in her mind, he led her by a private stair into hislibrary, where Emma was seated in a window, reading.
The young lady, seeing who approached, hastily rose and laid asideher book, and with many kind words, and not without tears, gave hera warm and earnest welcome. But the widow shrunk from her embraceas though she feared her, and sunk down trembling on a chair.
"It is the return to this place after so long an absence," saidEmma gently. "Pray ring, dear uncle--or stay--Barnaby will runhimself and ask for wine--"
"Not for the world," she cried. "It would have another taste--Icould not touch it. I want but a minute"s rest. Nothing but that."
Miss Haredale stood beside her chair, regarding her with silentpity. She remained for a little time quite still; then rose andturned to Mr Haredale, who had sat down in his easy chair, and wascontemplating her with fixed attention.
The tale connected with the mansion borne in mind, it seemed, ashas been already said, the chosen theatre for such a deed as it hadknown. The room in which this group were now assembled--hard bythe very chamber where the act was done--dull, dark, and sombre;heavy with worm-eaten books; deadened and shut in by fadedhangings, muffling every sound; shadowed mournfully by trees whoserustling boughs gave ever and anon a spectral knocking at theglass; wore, beyond all others in the house, a ghostly, gloomy air.
Nor were the group assembled there, unfitting tenants of the spot.
The widow, with her marked and startling face and downcast eyes; MrHaredale stern and despondent ever; his niece beside him, like, yetmost unlike, the picture of her father, which gazed reproachfullydown upon them from the blackened wall; Barnaby, with his vacantlook and restless eye; were all in keeping with the place, andactors in the legend. Nay, the very raven, who had hopped upon thetable and with the air of some old necromancer appeared to be profoundly studying a great folio volume that lay open on a desk,was strictly in unison with the rest, and looked like the embodiedspirit of evil biding his time of mischief.
"I scarcely know," said the widow, breaking silence, "how to begin.
You will think my mind disordered."
"The whole tenor of your quiet and reproachless life since you werelast here," returned Mr Haredale, mildly, "shall bear witness foryou. Why do you fear to awaken such a suspicion? You do not speakto strangers. You have not to claim our interest or considerationfor the first time. Be more yourself. Take heart. Any advice orassistance that I can give you, you know is yours of right, andfreely yours."
"What if I came, sir," she rejoined, "I who have but one otherfriend on earth, to reject your aid from this moment, and to saythat henceforth I launch myself upon the world, alone andunassisted, to sink or swim as Heaven may decree!"
"You would have, if you came to me for such a purpose," said MrHaredale calmly, "some reason to assign for conduct soextraordinary, which--if one may entertain the possibility of anything so wild and strange--would have its weight, of course."
"That, sir," she answered, "is the misery of my distress. I cangive no reason whatever. My own bare word is all that I can offer.