Denzil Quarrier

"You, Mrs. Wade? You are going to see Denzil?"

"Dearest girl, leave it all in my hands. You cannot think what difficulties I have overcome. If I am allowed to act freely, I shall save you and him."

She explained the articles of truce, Lilian listening with distressful hope.

"And I don't think he will interfere with you meanwhile. But you can keep the door locked, you know. Annie shall bring you something to eat; I will tell her to give him his luncheon first, and then to come very quietly with yours. It is half-past twelve. I can hardly be back in less than an hour and a half. No doubt, Mr. Quarrier will come with me."

"How good you are, dear Mrs. Wade! Oh, if you can save him!"

"Trust me, and try to sit quietly. Now, I will be off at once."

She pressed the hand that was held to her, nodded, and left the room.

CHAPTER XXII

It was striking one when Mrs. Wade came in sight of the Quarriers' house. At this hour Quarrier was expected at home for luncheon. He arrived whilst the visitor still waited for an answer to her ring at the door.

"But haven't you seen Lily? She told me"–

"Yes, I have seen her. She is at the cottage."

A peculiarity in her tone arrested his attention, and the look of joyous excitement which had been fixed upon his face these last few days changed to anxious inquiry.

"What's the matter?"

"She is quite well—don't imagine accidents. But I must speak to you in private."

The door had opened. Denzil led straightway to the library, where he flung aside hat and overcoat.

"What is it, Mrs. Wade?"

She stood close before him, her eyes on his. The rapid walk had brought colour to her cheek, and perhaps to the same cause was attributable her quickened breathing.

"Lily has been discovered by an enemy of hers and yours. A man named Northway."

"Damnation!"

He felt far too strongly to moderate his utterance out of regard for the listener. His features were distorted; he stared wrathfully.

"And you have left her with him? Where is she?"

"She is quite safe in my sitting-room—the key turned to protect her. He, too, is in the house, in another room. I have gained time; I"–

He could not listen.

"How did it happen?—You had no right to leave her alone with him!—How has he found her?"

"Please don't eat me up, Mr. Quarrier I have been doing my very best for you."

And she told him the story of the morning as briefly as possible. Her endeavour to keep a tone of perfect equanimity failed in the course of the narrative; once or twice there was a catching in her breath, and, as if annoyed with herself, she made an impatient gesture.

"And this fellow," cried Quarrier, when she ceased, "imagines that I am at his mercy! Let him do what he likes—let him go into the market-place and shout his news!—We'll go back at once."

"You are prepared, then, to have this known all over Polterham?" Mrs. Wade asked, looking steadily at him.

"I don't care a jot! Let the election go to the devil! Do you think I will submit Lily to a day of such torture? This very evening we go to London. How does she bear it?"

"Very well indeed."

"Like a brave, good girl! Do you think I would weigh the chance of election against her misery?"

"It seems to me," was the cold answer, "that you have done so already."

"Has she complained to you?"

"Oh, no! But I understand now what always puzzled me. I understand her"–

She checked herself, and turned quietly from him. Strategy must always be liable to slips from one cause or another, and Mrs. Wade's prudence had, for the moment, yielded to her impulses.

"You think she has all along been unhappy?"

"No, nothing of the kind. But when we have been speaking of the position of women—that kind of thing—I have noticed something strange—an anxiety. I was only going to say that, after having succeeded thus far, it seems a pity to lose everything when a little prudence."

She waved her hand.

"Do you believe," Denzil asked, "that his story of finding her by mere chance is true?"

"Lilian tells me that only your most intimate friend shared the secret."

"Glazzard? Of course he has nothing to do with it. But some one else may have"–

He walked apart, brooding. Mrs. Wade seated herself, and became thoughtful.

"What sort of a fellow is this?" Quarrier asked, of a sudden.

"It depends who is dealing with him," she answered, meeting his look with eyes full of sympathetic expression. "I read him at once, and managed him. He is too weak for serious villainy. He doesn't seem to have thought of extorting money from you. Lilian was his only object. He would have taken her away by force."

"Come—we mustn't lose time."

"Mr. Quarrier, do be calm, and let us talk before we go. She is quite safe. And as for Northway, I am perfectly sure that you can keep him silent."

"You think it possible?"

"If you will consent to follow in the path I have prepared. I have taken no small trouble."

She looked up at him and smiled.

"You have behaved like a true friend, Mrs. Wade—it is no more than I should have expected of you. But what have you planned? Think how this secret has already spread—what hope is there of finally hushing it up? Glazzard and you would never breathe a syllable; but how, short of manslaughter, could I assure the silence of a blackguard like this Northway? If I let him blackmail me, I am done for: I should be like the fools in plays and novels, throwing half my possessions away, and all in vain."

"Pray remember," urged the other, "that this Northway is by no means the rascal of melodrama. He has just enough brains to make him conceited, and is at the disposal of any one who plays upon his conceit. With much trouble I induced him to regard you as a source of profit." She broke off and seemed to falter. "I think you won't find fault with me, Mr. Quarrier, for trying to do this?"

"You did it ill the friendliest spirit."

"And not indiscreetly, I hope." She looked at him for a moment, and continued: "He is bribable, but you must go to work carefully. For instance, I think if you offered to give him a good start in a commercial career—by your personal recommendation, I mean—that would have more effect than an offer of money. And then, again, in this way you guard yourself against the perils of which you were speaking. Place him well, so that he considers himself a respectable, responsible man, and for his own sake he won't torment you. Couldn't you send him to some one over in Sweden—some house of business?"

Denzil pondered, with knitted brows.

"I have no faith in it!" he exclaimed at length, beginning to walk about. "Come—I want to get to Lilian she must be in misery. I will order the carriage; it will be needed to bring her back."

He rang the bell violently; a servant appeared, and hurried away to do his bidding.

"Mrs. Wade," he said, as soon as the door had closed, "shouldn't I do better to throw up the game? I hate these underhand affairs I don't think I could go through with the thing—I don't, indeed! Speak your whole mind. I am not a slave of ambition—at bottom I care precious little for going into Parliament. I enjoyed the excitement of it—I believe I have a knack of making speeches; but what does it all amount to? Tell me your true thought." He drew near to her. "Shall I throw it up and go abroad with my wife?—my wife! that is her true name!"

He looked a fine fellow as he spoke this; better than he had looked on the platform. Mrs. Wade gazed at him fixedly, as if she could not take away her eyes. She trembled, and her forehead was wrung with pain.

"Do this," she replied, eagerly, "if you wish to make Lilian unhappy for the rest of her life."

"What do you mean?"

"It seems I understand her better than you do—perhaps because I am a woman. She dreads nothing so much as the thought that she has been the ruin of your prospects. You have taught her to believe that you are made for politics; you can never undo that. The excitement of this election had fixed the belief in her for ever. For her sake, you are bound to make every attempt to choke this scandal! Be weak—give in—and (she is weak too) it's all over with her happiness. Her life would be nothing but self-reproach."

"No, no, no! For a short time, perhaps, but security would be the best thing of all for her."

"Try, then—try, and see the result!"

She spoke with suppressed passion, her voice shaking. Denzil turned away, struggled with his thoughts, again faced her. Mrs. Wade read his features as if her life depended on what he would resolve. Seeing him in a misery of indecision, she repeated, at greater length and more earnestly still, her cogent reasonings. Quarrier argued in reply, and they were still thus engaged when it was announced that the carriage waited.

"Let us go!" He threw his overcoat on to his shoulders.

Mrs. Wade caught his hand.

"Are you bent on doing the hopeless thing?"

"Let us talk in the carriage. I can't wait any longer."

But in the carriage both kept silence. Mrs. Wade, exhausted by stress of emotion, by the efforts of her scheming brain, lay back as if she had abandoned the contest; Denzil, his face working ceaselessly, stared through the windows. When they were nearing their destination, the widow leaned towards him.

"I have done my best for you. I have nothing so much at heart as your welfare—and Lilian's."

He pressed her hand, too much disturbed to think of the singular way in which she spoke. Then the vehicle stopped. Denzil assisted his companion to alight, and, whilst she was opening the house-door, bade the coachman go up and down till he was summoned. Then he sprang after Mrs. Wade, learnt from her where Lilian was, and at once tried to enter the sitting-room. The door was locked.

"Lily!" he called, in a low voice. "Open, dear! It is I!"

The key turned rapidly. He rushed in, and clasped Lilian in his arms. She could not utter a word, but clung to him sobbing and wailing.

"Don't!—don't, dear girlie! Try to be quiet—try to command yourself."

"Can you do anything?" she uttered at length. "Is there any hope?"

"What do you wish, Lily, dearest? What shall I do?"

The common sense of manliness urged him to put no such questions, to carry her away without a word, save of tender devotion, to escape with her into quietness, and let all else go as it would. But Mrs. Wade's warning had impressed him deeply. It went with his secret inclination; for, at this stage of the combat, to lose all his aims would be a bitter disappointment. Rethought of the lifelong ostracism, and feared it in a vague way.

"Mrs. Wade thinks he can be persuaded to leave us alone," Lilian replied, hurriedly, using simple words which made her seem childlike, though at the same moment she was nerving herself to heroic effort. "See him, and do what you can, Denzil. I did my utmost, dear. Oh, this cruel chance that brought him here!"

She would have given years of her life to say "Sacrifice all, and let us go!" He seemed even to invite her to say it, but she strove with herself. Sacrifice of his career meant sacrifice of the whole man. Not in her eyes, oh no!—but she had studied him so well, and knew that he could no longer be content in obscurity. She choked her very soul's desire.

"Shall I try to buy him off, Lily?"

"Do try, darling!"

"But can you face what will come afterwards—the constant risks?"

"Anything rather than you shall be ruined!"

A syllable would have broken down her heroism. It was on his tongue. He had but to say "Ruin!—what do I care for ruin in that sense?" and she would have cried with delight. But he kept it back.

"Sit down and wait for me. I will go and see him."

One more embrace, and he left her. Mrs. Wade was talking with Northway in the dining-room, talking hurriedly and earnestly. She heard Quarrier's step and came to the door.

"In here?" Denzil asked.

She nodded and came out. Then the door closed behind him.

Northway stood near the window. He had eaten—luncheon was still on the table—and had been smoking to calm his nerves, but at the sight of Quarrier he became agitated They inspected each other. Denzil's impulse was to annihilate his contemptible enemy with fierceness of look and word; and in Northway jealousy fought so strongly with prudence that a word of anger would have driven him to revengeful determination. But a few moments of silence averted this danger. Quarrier said to himself that there was no use in half measures. He had promised Lilian to do his best, and his own desire pointed to the same end. Swallowing his gall, he spoke quietly.

"Mr. Northway, we can't talk as if we were friends; but I must remember that you have never intentionally done me any wrong—that it is I who am immediately to blame for this state of things. I hope you will talk it over with me"–

His voice failed, but the first step had been taken. He sat down, motioning the other to a chair.

"I can't allow my wife to live any longer in this way," began the adversary, with blundering attempt at dignified speech.

"My wife" was like a blow to Denzil; he flushed, started, yet controlled himself. What Mrs. Wade had told him of Northway's characteristics came into his mind, and he saw that this address might be mere bluster.

"It's very natural for you to speak in that way; but there is no undoing what has happened. I must say that at once, and as firmly as possible. We may talk of how I can compensate you for—for the injury; but of nothing else."

He ended with much mental objurgation, which swelled his throat.

"You can't compensate a man," returned Northway, "for an injury of this kind."

"Strictly speaking, no. But as it can't be helped—as I wronged you without knowing you—I think I may reasonably offer to do you whatever good turn is in my power. Please to tell me one thing. Have you spoken to any one except Mrs. Wade of what you have discovered?"

"No—to no one."

It might be true or not. Denzil could only hope it was, and proceed on that assumption.

"I am sure I may trust your word," he said, beginning to use diplomacy, with the immediate result that Northway's look encouraged him. "Now, please tell me another thing, as frankly. Can I, as a man of some means and influence, offer you any acceptable service?"

There was silence. Northway could not shape a reply.

"You have been in commerce, I think?" proceeded the other. "Should you care to take a place in some good house of business on the Continent, or elsewhere abroad? I think it's in my power to open a way for you such as you would not easily make by your own exertions."

The listener was suffering. But for one thing, this offer would have tempted him strongly; but that one thing made it idle for him to think of what was proposed. To-day or to-morrow Quarrier would be exposed by his plotting enemies, and thereupon any bargain made with reference to the future would collapse. If he were to profit by Quarrier at all, it must needs be in the shape of a payment which could not be recovered.

"I don't care to go into business again," he said, with a mingling of real annoyance and affected superiority. "I have other views."

"Can I help to advance them?" asked Denzil, sickening under the necessity of speaking fair.

The dialogue lasted for half an hour more. Jealousy notwithstanding, Northway had made up his mind to gain what was to be gained. Lilian was beyond his reach; it would be foolish to go back to his poverty and cloudy overlook when solid assistance was held out to him. With much posturing and circumlocution, he came at length to the avowal that a sum of ready money would not be refused.

"Are you wise in preferring this to the other kind of help?" Denzil urged.

"I have my own views."

Quarrier ridiculed himself for what he was doing. How could he pretend to trust such a fellow? Again, there was only the hope that a bribe might be efficacious.

"I will give you five hundred pounds," he said, "on condition that you leave England at once."

The bid was too low. Northway would be satisfied with twice as much, provided it were paid forthwith. Pondering, Quarrier decided that he was about to commit an absurdity. A thousand pounds—and how much more in future? He looked Northway in the eyes.

"Here is my last word. I don't greatly care whether this secret comes out or not. If I am to be at your mercy henceforth, I had rather bid you do what you like; it really doesn't matter much to me. I will give you five hundred pounds at once—a cheque on a Polterham banker; moreover, if my secret is kept, I will do you the other service I offered. But that's all I have to say. If it doesn't suit you, you must do what you please."

His boldness was successful. Northway could gain nothing by betrayal of the secret—which he believed to be no secret at all. With show of indifference, he accepted what was obtainable.

"Then come and drive with me into the town," said Denzil.

Thereupon he stepped out and entered the sitting-room, where the two women were together. They looked eager inquiry, and he smiled.

"Managed, I think. He goes with me. Lily, I'll be back for you as soon as possible."

A moment, and they watched the carriage roll away.

CHAPTER XXIII

This evening there was a great dinner-party at Colonel Catesby's; a political dinner. Lilian had carefully prepared for the occasion. In Quarrier's opinion, she would far outshine her previous appearances; she was to wear certain jewels which he had purchased on a recent visit to town—at an outlay of which he preferred to say nothing definite. "They are the kind of thing," he remarked, with a significant smile, "that can be passed on to one's children."

But would it be possible for her to keep the engagement? Through the afternoon she lay in her bedroom with drawn blinds, endeavouring to sleep. Once or twice Denzil entered, very softly, and stood by her for a moment; she looked at him and smiled, but did not speak. At half-past six he brought her tea with his own hand. Declaring herself quite recovered, she rose.

"This is no such important affair that you must go at all costs," he said, regarding her anxiously. "Say you feel unable, and I'll send a message at once."

Already she had assured him that it would disappoint her greatly not to go. Lilian meant, of course, that she could not bear to disappoint him, and to make confusion in their hostess's arrangements. There was a weight upon her heart which made it a great effort even to move, to speak; but she hoped to find strength when the time came.

"You are quite sure that he has gone, Denzil—gone for good?"

"I am perfectly sure of it. You needn't have another moment's fear."

He tried to believe it. By this time, if he had kept his promise, Northway was in London. But what faith was to be put in such a man's declarations? It might be that the secret was already known to other people; between now and polling-day there might come the crowning catastrophe. Yet the man's interest seemed to impose silence upon him, and for Lilian's sake it was necessary to affect absolute confidence.

They went to the dinner, and the evening passed without accident. Lilian was universally admired; pallor heightened her beauty, and the assurance of outlived danger which Denzil had succeeded in imparting gave to her conversation a life and glow that excited interest in all who spoke with her.

"Mr. Quarrier," said the hostess, playfully, in an aside, "if you were defeated at Polterham, I don't think you ought to care much. You have already been elected by such a charming constituency!"

But there followed a night of sleeplessness. If exhaustion pressed down her eyelids for a moment, some image of dread flashed upon her brain and caused her to start up with a cry. Himself worn out and suffering a reaction of despondency, Quarrier more than once repented what he had done. In Lilian's state of health such a shock as this might have results that would endanger her life. She had not a strong constitution; he recalled the illness of a year ago, and grew so anxious that his fits of slumber gave him no refreshment, In the early dawn, finding that she was awake, he spoke to her of the necessity of avoiding excitement during the next few days.

"I wish you could go away till the affair is over."

"Oh, there is no need of that! I couldn't be away from you."

"Then at all events keep quietly at home. There'll be the deuce of an uproar everywhere to-day."

"We shall lunch at Mary's, you know. I had rather be there than sitting alone."

"Well, Molly will be good company for you, I dare say. But do try not to excite yourself. Don't talk much; we'll tell them you are very tired after last night. As soon as ever the fight is done, we'll be off somewhere or other for a few weeks. Don't get up till midday; anything interesting you shall know at once."

At breakfast Denzil received a note from Mrs. Wade, sent by hand. "Do let me know how Lilian is. The messenger will wait for a reply." He wrote an answer of warm friendliness, signing it, "Ever sincerely yours." Mrs. Wade had impressed him with her devotion; he thought of her with gratitude and limitless confidence.

"If it had been Molly, instead," he said to himself; "I can't be at all sure how she would have behaved. Religion and the proprieties might have been too much for her good nature; yes, they would have been. After all, these emancipated women are the most trustworthy, and Mrs. Wade is the best example I have yet known."

When Mrs. Liversedge welcomed her sister-in-law at luncheon, she was stricken with alarm.

"My dear girl, you look like a ghost! This won't do," she added, in a whisper, presently. "You must keep quiet!"

But the Liversedges' house was no place for quietness. Two or three vigorous partisans put in an appearance at the meal, and talked with noisy exhilaration. Tobias himself had yielded to the spirit of the hour; he told merry stories of incidents that had come under his notice that morning. One of these concerned a well-known publican, a stalwart figure on the Tory side.

"I am assured that three voters have been drinking steadily for the last week at his expense. He calculates that delirium tremens will have set in, in each case, by the day after to-morrow."

"Who are these men?" asked Lilian, eagerly. "Why can't we save them in time?"

"Oh, the thing is too artfully arranged. They are old topers; no possibility of interfering."

"I can't see"–

"Lilian," interposed Mrs. Liversedge, "what was the material of that wonderful dress Mrs. Kay wore last night?"

"I don't know, Mary; I didn't notice it.—But surely if it is known that these men are"–

It was a half-holiday for the Liversedge boys, and they were anticipating the election with all the fervour of British youth. That morning there had been a splendid fight at the Grammar School; they described it with great vigour and amplitude, waxing Homeric in their zeal. Dickinson junior had told Tom Harte that Gladstone was a "blackguard"; whereupon Tom smote him between the eyes, so that the vile calumniator measured his length in congenial mud. The conflict spread. Twenty or thirty boys took coloured rosettes from their pockets (they were just leaving school) and pinned them to their coats, then rushed to combat with party war-cries. Fletcher senior had behaved like a brutal coward (though alas! a Gladstonian—it was sorrowfully admitted), actually throwing a stone at an enemy who was engaged in single fight, with the result that he had cut open the head of one of his own friends—a most serious wound. An under-master (never a favourite, and now loathed by the young Liversedges as a declared Tory) had interposed in the unfairest way—what else could be expected of him? To all this Mrs. Liversedge gave ear not without pride, but as soon as possible she drew Lilian apart into a quiet room, and did her best to soothe the feverishness which was constantly declaring itself.

About three o'clock Mrs. Wade called. She had not expected to find Lilian here. There was a moment's embarrassment on both sides. When they sat down to talk, the widow's eyes flitted now and then over Lilian's face, but she addressed herself almost exclusively to Mrs. Liversedge, and her visit lasted only a quarter of an hour. On leaving, she went into the town to make some purchases, and near the Liberal committee-rooms it was her fortune to meet with Quarrier.