JOAN HASTE - H. RIDER HAGGARD (inspirational novels txt) 📗

I have only myself to think of."

"Really this is a most unfortunate tone for any young woman to adopt; still, I did hope that, if you considered nobody else, you would at least consider your own reputation. Perhaps you know to what I allude?"

"Yes, sir; I know."

"Might I ask you if there is any truth in it?"

Then for the first time Joan lied. So far as she was aware, she had never before told a deliberate falsehood; but now she had entered on a path in which falsehood of necessity becomes a weapon of self-defence, to be used at all times and places. She did not pause to think; she knew that she must protect herself and her lover from this keen-eyed, plausible man, who was searching out their secret for some purpose of his own.

"No, sir," she said boldly, looking him in the face, "there is no truth. I nursed Sir Henry Graves, and I tried to do my duty by him, and of course people talked about us. For years past I never could speak to a man but what they talked about me in Bradmouth."

Mr. Levinger shrugged his shoulders.

"I have asked my question, and I have got my answer. Of course I believe you; but even if the story were ever so true, I should not have expected any other reply. Well, I am glad to hear that it is not true, for it would have been much to the detriment of both yourself and Sir Henry Graves--especially of Sir Henry Graves."

"Why especially of Sir Henry, sir? I have always understood that it is the girl who suffers if there is any talk, because she is the weaker. Not that talk matters to one like me who has nothing to lose."

"Because it might interfere with his matrimonial prospects, that is all. As you may have heard, the affairs of this family are in such a condition that, if Sir Henry does not marry advantageously, he will be utterly ruined. He may as well commit suicide as attempt to take a wife without money, however fond he might be of her, or however charming she was," Mr. Levinger said meaningly, watching Joan's face.

She understood him perfectly, and did not hesitate as to her answer, though it must have cost her much to speak it.

"I have heard, sir. I have a great regard and respect for Sir Henry Graves, and I hope that he will settle himself well in life. I happen to know, also, that there is a young lady who has fortune and is fond of him. I trust that he will marry her, as she will make him a good wife."

Mr. Levinger nodded.

"I trust so too, Joan, for everybody's sake. Thank you for your good wishes. I was afraid, to speak frankly, that there was some truth in these tales; that you might selfishly, though naturally enough, adopt a course towards Sir Henry Graves which would be prejudicial to his true interests; and that he would possibly be so foolish as to suffer himself to be led away--as, indeed, any man might be without much blame--by the affection of such a woman as you are, Joan."

"I have given you my answer about it, sir. If you think for a minute you will understand that, had there been any truth in these tales, the more reason would there be that I should speak as I have done, seeing that no true woman could wish to injure the man whom she--dearly loves, no, not even if it broke her heart to part with him."

And Joan turned her head, in a somewhat ineffectual attempt to hide the tears that welled into her eyes.

Mr. Levinger looked at her with admiration. He did not believe a word of her statement with reference to herself and Henry. Indeed, he knew it to be false, and that her denial amounted merely to a formal plea of "not guilty"

"Of course, of course," he said; "but all the same you are a brave girl, Joan, and I am sure that it will be made up to you in some way or other. And now--what do you intend to do with yourself?"

"It was of this that I wished to speak to you, sir. I want to go away from Bradmouth. I am not fit to be a governess: I don't know enough, and there are very few people who would care to take me. But I could do as a shop-girl in London. I have a decent figure, and I dare say that they will employ me to hang cloaks on for the ladies to look at, only you see I have no money to start with."

Mr. Levinger hesitated. Her plan had great advantages from his point of view, and yet--

"I suppose that you really mean to seek honest employment, Joan? Forgive me, but you know--you have been talking a little wildly once or twice this afternoon as to your being without responsibilities to anybody."

"You need not be afraid, sir," she said, with a sad smile; "I want to earn my bread away from here, that is all. If there has been talk about me in Bradmouth, there shall be none in London, or anywhere else I may go."

"I am glad to hear it, Joan. Without some such assurance, an assurance in which I put the most implicit faith, I could never have helped you in your plan. As it is, you shall not lack for money. I will give you five-and-twenty pounds to put in your pocket, and make you an allowance of five pounds a month for so long as you require it. If you wish to go to London, I know a respectable woman who takes in girls to lodge, mostly ladies in reduced circumstances who are earning their living in one way or another. Here is the address: Mrs. Thomas, 13, Kent Street, Paddington. By the way, you will do well to get a certificate of character from the clergyman at Bradmouth; my name would carry no weight, you see. But of course, if you fall into any difficulties, you will communicate with me at once; and as I have said I propose to allow you sixty pounds a year, which will be a sufficient sum to keep you in comfort whether or no you succeed in obtaining employment. Now for the money," and he drew his cheque-book from a drawer, but replaced it, saying, "No, perhaps gold would be more convenient."

Then he went to a small safe, and, unlocking it, extracted twenty-four pounds in sovereigns, which, with the exception of some bank-notes, was all that it contained.

"Twenty-four," he said, counting them. "I dare say that I can make up the other sovereign;" and he searched his pockets, producing a ten-shilling bit and some loose silver.

"Why don't you give me one of the notes, sir, instead of so much money?" asked Joan innocently.

"No, no. I always like to make payments in gold, which is the legal tender, you know; though I am afraid I must give you some silver in this case. There you are, all but threepence. I shall have to owe you the threepence. What, you haven't got a purse? Then tie up the money in the corner of your pocket-handkerchief, and put it in the bosom of your dress, where it can't fall out. I have found that the safest way for a woman to carry valuables."

Joan obeyed, saying, "I don't know if I have to thank you for this money, sir."

"Not at all, not at all. It is a portion of your trust fund."

"I thought you said that the amount was almost exhausted, sir; and if so, how can you give me this and promise to pay me sixty pounds a year?"

"No, no, you are mistaken; I did not say that--I said it was getting rather low. But really I don't quite know how the account stands. I must look into it. And now, is there anything more?"

"Yes, one thing, sir. I do not want anybody in Bradmouth, or anybody anywhere, and more especially my aunt, to know whither I have gone, or what my address is. I have done with the old life, and I wish to begin a new one."

"Certainly; I understand. Your secret will be safe with me, Joan. And now good-bye."

"Good-bye, sir; and many thanks for all that you have done for me in the past, and for your kindness to-day. You must not think too much of any bitter words I may have said: at times I remember how lonely I am in the world, and I think and speak like that, not because I mean it, but because my heart is sore."

"It is perfectly natural, and I do not blame you," answered Mr. Levinger, as he showed her out of the room. "Only remember what I say: for aught you know, even the dead may have ears to hear and hearts to feel, and when you judge them, they, whose mouths are closed, cannot return to explain what you believe to be their wickedness. Where are you going? To the kitchen? No, no--the front door, if you please. Good-bye again: good luck to you!"

"Thank Heaven that she has gone!" Mr. Levinger thought to himself, as he sat down in his chair. "It has been a trying interview, very trying, for both of us. She is a plucky woman, and a good one according to her lights. She lied about Henry Graves, but then it was not to be expected that she would do anything else; and whatever terms they are on, she is riding straight now, which shows that she must be very fond of him, poor girl."

CHAPTER XX("LET IT REMAIN OPEN")

 

Outside the door of Monk's Lodge, Joan met Emma returning from a walk. As usual she was dressed in white, and, to Joan's fancy, looked pure as a wild anemone in the April sun, and almost as frail. She would have passed her with a little salutation that was half bow, half curtsey, but Emma held out her hand.

"How do you do, Miss Haste?" she said, with a slight nervous tremor in her voice. "I did not know that you were up here," and she stopped; but her look seemed to add, "And I wonder why you have come."

"I am going to leave Bradmouth, and I came to say good-bye to Mr. Levinger, who has always been very kind to me," Joan replied, with characteristic openness, answering the look and not the words. She felt that, in the circumstances, it was best that she should be open with Miss Levinger.

Emma looked surprised. "I was not aware that you were going," she said; but again Joan felt that what astonished her was not the news of her approaching departure, but the discovery that she was on intimate terms with her father. She was right. Emma remembered that he had spoken disparagingly of this girl, and as though he knew nothing about her. It seemed curious, then, that he should have been "very kind" to her, and that she should come to bid him good-bye. Here was another of those mysteries with which her father's life seemed to be surrounded, and which so frequently made her feel uncomfortable