‘Do you think I am lying to you for my own purposes?’
‘I cannot say,’ she answered, with unnatural calm. ‘It is more likely than that what you say is true.’
He, by now, had attained a self-control which would not desert him. So far in crime, there was no turning back; he could even enjoy the anticipation of each new move in the game, certain of winning. He could be cruel now for cruelty’s sake; it was a form of fruition.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘it is your own concern whether you believe me or not. If you wish for evidence, you shall have it, the completest. What I have to say is this. From now till Monday morning your father is free. Whether I have him arrested then or not depends upon yourself. If you consent to become my wife as soon as it is possible for us to be married, neither you nor he will ever hear another word of the matter. What’s more, I will at once put him in a position of comfort. If you refuse, there will be a policeman ready to arrest him as soon as he comes to the mill; if he tries to escape, a warrant will be issued. In any case he will be ruined.’
Then, after a pause—
‘So you have till tomorrow night to make up your mind. You can either send me a note or come and see me; I shall be at home whenever you come.’
Emily stood in silence.
‘I hope you quite understand what I mean,’ Dagworthy continued, as if discussing an ordinary matter of business. ‘No one will ever dream that your father has done anything to be ashamed of. After all, it is not so impossible that you should marry me for my own sake;’—he said it with bitterness. ‘People will see nothing to wonder at. Fortunately, no one knows of that—of what you told me. Your father and mother will be easy for the rest of their lives, and without a suspicion that there has been anything but what appears on the surface. I needn’t say how things are likely to look in the other event.’
Still she stood silent.
‘I don’t expect an answer now—’
Emily shook her head.
‘But,’ he continued, ‘you mustn’t leave it after tomorrow night. It will be too late.’
She began to move away from him. With a step or two he followed her; she turned, with a passionate movement of repulsion, terror, and hate transfiguring her countenance, made for the expression of all sweet and tender and noble things.
Dagworthy checked himself, turned about, and walked quickly from the place.
CHAPTER XI
EMILY’S DECISION
Emily reached home a few minutes before dinner-time. Her mother came to her from the back of the house, where things were in Saturday tumult, speaking with a voice of fretful satisfaction.
‘I’d just given you up, and was wondering whether to let the meat spoil or begin dinner alone.’
‘I am sorry to be late, mother.’
‘No, you’re not late, my dear,’ the mother admitted. ‘It’s only that you’re a little uncertain, and when one o’clock draws on I can never be quite sure of you, if you’re out. I must say I like punctuality, though I dare say it’s an old-fashioned kind of thing. Which would you like, potatoes baked or boiled? I’ve got both, as I always think the baked keep better for your father.’
‘Whichever you have yourself, mother.’
‘Now, child, do make a choice! As if you couldn’t say which you would prefer.’
‘Boiled.’
‘There now, you say that because you think there won’t be enough of the others. I know very well yen always like the baked, when I have them. Don’t you, now, Emily?’
‘Mother, which you like! What does it matter?’
‘Well, my dear, I’m sure I only wanted to please you,’ said Mrs. Hood, in her tone of patience under injury. ‘I can’t see why you should be angry with me. If I could give you more choice I would. No doubt you’re used to having potatoes done in all sorts of superior ways, but unfortunately I wasn’t brought up as a cook—’
The strange look with which Emily was regarding her brought her to a pause; her voice dropped.
‘Mother dear,’ said the girl, in a low and shaken tone, ‘I am neither foolish nor unkind; do try to believe that. Something is troubling me. To-day let your choice be mine.’
Mrs. Hood moved away, and served the dinner in silence.
‘What is your trouble, my dear?’ she asked presently. ‘Can’t you tell me?’
Emily shook her head. Her mother relapsed into thoughtfulness, and they finished their meal with little conversation. Mrs. Heed was just rising from the table, when there was a sound of some one opening the gate before the house; she looked to the window, and at once uttered an exclamation of astonishment.
‘Well! If that isn’t—! He hasn’t altered a bit all these years!’
‘Who is it, mother?’ Emily asked nervously.
‘Why, my dear, it’s that man Cheeseman! The very idea of his coming here! Now, mark my words, he’s come to ask for that money back again, or for some of it, at all events. It was just showing off, pretending to pay it back; exactly like him! But if your father’s foolish enough to do anything of the kind—There, he’s knocking. I hoped never to see his face again as long as I lived; how ever he can have the impudence to come! I suppose I must let him in; but I’m sure I shan’t offer him any dinner.’
Emily had risen from her chair, and was trembling with excitement.
‘Oh yes, mother,’ she cried, with a joy which astonished Mrs. Heed, ‘we must behave kindly to him. He paid father the money; we must remember that.’
‘Well, you’ll see if I’m net right. But I can’t keep him standing at the door. Do untie this apron, Emily; I’m so nervous, I can’t get at the knot. See, now, if he hasn’t come for the money back again.’
‘Never mind; he paid it! He paid it!’
‘I can’t understand you, child. What is there to be so pleased about?’
‘Mother, do go to the door. Or shall I?’
The girl was overcome with a sudden light in utter darkness. She grasped at her mother’s explanation of the visitor’s arrival; unable, in her ardour, to calculate probabilities, to review details. Dagworthy had been guilty of a base falsehood; the man approached who could assure her of it. It was a plot, deeply planned. In some manner Dagworthy had learned what had happened to her father in Hebsworth, and had risked everything on the terror he could inspire in her. The coming of her father’s friend was salvation.
She found herself clasping his hand warmly.
‘Well, Miss Hood,’ Cheeseman came in exclaiming, ‘you may perhaps have half a recollection of me, when you’re told who I am, but I’m quite sure I shouldn’t have known you. Your good father was telling me about you yesterday; rare and proud he was to speak of you, too, and not without reason, I see. Mrs. Hoed, you’ve no need to complain of your for tune. Times have been hard, no doubt, but they’ve brought you a blessing. If I had a young lady such as this to look at me and call me father—well, well, it won’t do to think of it.’
In spite of her determination, Mrs. Hoed was mollified into an offer of dinner. Mr. Cheeseman affected to refuse, but at a word from Emily he allowed himself to be persuaded. The two sat with him, and listened to his talk of bygone days. Emily’s face was flushed; she kept her eyes on Cheeseman as if his arrival were that of a long-hoped-for friend. The visitor abounded in compliments to mother and daughter alike. He ate, the while, with extreme heartiness, and at length drew from the table in the most effusive mood.
‘Mrs. Hood,’ he said, leaning forward, ‘I owe you an apology, many apologies. You and your good husband in times long past did me a service of a very substantial kind. You thought I had forgotten it—yes, you couldn’t help but think it—’
‘Oh, we won’t talk about that, Mr. Cheeseman,’ interposed Mrs. Hood, not without a suggestion in her tone that she had indeed entertained the thought attributed to her.