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Chapter XXII.

"Well, Fixer," said Hobart, some time after all the necessary arrangements for the land sale had been made, "what sort of success do you think we shall have with reference to this land affair? Don't you think we shall double?"

"I don't like to discourage you, Hobart, for we are in together, and we both now sink or swim; but to tell you the truth, I am of opinion we shall before long be glad of a bright night and a fair wind."

"I do not understand you," answered Hobart, "explain your meaning, for I never was good at riddles."

"I don't think there is much of a riddle in that. Of course, you know as well as I that if the land does not sell, we cannot meet the bills, and then how can we remain. One of our boats, or perhaps I should say Perryman's, will have to take us away, for we shall never be able to fight it out."

"Oh, nonsense, Fixer, you always look on the worst side; and further, you know I promised you that you should be right in any case, and in this, Fixer, I shall keep my word."

"I don't see how you can say this," returned Fixer, "for you know I do not wish you to do anything of the kind you suggested the evening of the party, for two reasons."

Hobart at this changed colour very visibly, and replied, "Why do you ever refer to disagreeables when you know it is not necessary? Besides, I cannot imagine what your reasons are for speaking as you do, nor am I very anxious to find out."

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"You do, I see, feel a little curious, Hobart, and as I know the way your memory serves you, I will again repeat that I do not wish you to purchase our release from difficulties at the cost of a life's misery to an innocent girl. We, collectively, are not worth half the sacrifice, and further, I do not wish you to jeopardise your own liberty in the least for me. There is no need for me to say more, as your memory will supply the rest."

During the time Fixer had been speaking, Hobart had sat like one who would spring upon him but for the fact that he knew he had his master and dared not. Whenever Fixer alluded in his cutting style to his partner's defective memory, all the evil of his nature was roused, and after Fixer had finished speaking, Hobart looked like one in a dream. He could not trust himself to speak, and for some seconds all was still.

Presently Fixer rises, and taking from his case a cigar, says, as he is about to light it, "I think, Hobart, as you seem to be enjoying yourself better without than with me, I shall wish you good night."

"I—I—beg pardon, Fixer. I was thinking. But come, let us have a glass, and for God's sake have a little more consideration for my feelings. We shall soon know now whether we are rich or otherwise, so let's be friends till the end comes."

"It is solely because I have consideration for you that I impose these conditions and for nothing else. Others deserve it, but not you and I, but still, as you suggest, we will wait."

"I know I am very anxious for the sale, but still I feel in this we must succeed, and then we shall be able to defy everybody."

"We shall soon know now," returned Fixer, "and, I fear, too soon; for the due date of the bills is but 21 days after. What with surveys and other delays the time has flown too quickly. What do you think can be done with Perryman if he page 218finds the matter out? Can you satisfy him sufficiently for him to take a part of the risk?"

"I can do nothing with him. Ever since that infernal party he has been another man. His conduct has been strangely different. At times he looks at me as though he were going to upbraid me, and then he seems to check himself; but he then addresses me very coolly, and says as little to me as possible. Later on he seems to try and avoid me."

"The devil he does; then something of which I know nothing must have occurred. Think you Clara has said anything?"

"No, I can trust her, I feel certain. Besides, her interests are ours."

"Of course, if she has not gone over to the other side. I know what women are; you never can trust them."

"Gone over? Were she to do that there would be some other signs; but on the contrary, lately she has seemed far more contented than ever."

"Then, if she has been so, you may depend something is wrong, fop women are invairably cunning when they think succour is near at hand. You should be careful and try in all ways to please her, and then in the event of any mishaps we may have her aid."

"I do on all occasions try to be so, but whenever I am more attentive than usual, she checks my advances in the coollest possible manner."

"I don't like the look of thinks at all, Hobart. If by any chance that paper or a similar one has fallen into their hands we are undoubtedly undone. However, we are in together, and must watch and use caution, and if the worst comes we must do our beat to meet it."

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"Let us only get this sale over successfully, Fixer, and we are right."

And so things stood with Messrs Fixer and Hobart. They had already begun to find themselves in troubled waters, but little did they dream how much the other people knew, or they would have been much more disturbed than they were.

And how had Frank and Clara fared in their endeavours to find out about Matthew? By the first mail after their letter had sufficient time to go to Hobart-town and back, came the reply telling of Matthew's release; in fact a paper with the account of his discharge and Agnes Hobart's confession had also been sent to Frank. The document further stated that letters were now awaiting him from Crayford, Kent, which were supposed to come from the Castle of Lurtonshaw, for they bore that seal.

"What think you of this, Clara?" said Frank, "we are successful beyond our highest expectations."

"But how terrible, that my poorfather should have so suffered in spite of his innocence."

"Worse," said Frank, "if he were guilty. So you have that consolation; and besides, we shall soon find him now, of that you may, I think, rest assured."

"We may not," she argued. "Victoria is such a wild place from what we hear that I almost fear that we are further off success than you think, Mr Perryman."

"Let us hope differently, at any rate," said Frank; but hope as they may, week after week grew into months, and still no tidings, and again Clara began to grow sad. She loathed now the sight of Hobart more than ever, for she saw the double deception he had used with her; but still, for fear that if she went she would lose Frank's help, detained her in Timaru, and she lingered on, always in hopes of news. Still it page 220came not, and Frank used every endeavour he could think of, but though a lawyer, he laboured in vain. He had sent to Victoria, offering to reward anyone for the finding of him they sought, but nobody seemed to think the task worth the trouble; for seeking for anyone in the digging days of Victoria was not unlike looking for a needle in a bottle of hay. Frank became quite a prey to newsvendors, for be took all the colonial papers they offered; but still the long-looked-for news seemed to be provokingly far off, and he began to tire of taking in so many journals.

One day a newsman, who had often before sold many a paper to him when others would not, called in the morning at Perryman's house—for he combined the calling of milkman with the selling of papers,—and as Frank happened to be going out at the time, the man observed he would have a fresh supply of Victorian papers that day.

"I will call, sir, and let you see a full account from the principal claims in Ballarat."

"Bother Ballarat," Frank was nearly saying, for he had lost all patience. Each time he saw Clara she would give him such beseeching looks for news that he felt ashamed to say he had none, although it was no fault of his. Checking himself, however, he told the man he would consider the matter, and went off, hoping in reality that the man would forget all about him. Later in the day the man called and left at the house a number of papers, as Frank was not at home, for him to select what he wanted.

"Frank," said Maud, when he returned, "I wonder you do not start a library, you could easily find it in papers. You must spend quite a little fortune in them, and such a queer thing for you to do, as you never looked at them before now. You seem to have imbibed quite a taste for that kind of literature. I have been reading them, and do you know, I was quite interested. The locals are so funny, and one amused me page 221very much. It is copied from another paper, the Bal—something, and gives an account of a man who was apparently afraid someone would run off with his wife. It appears, one day, out of a lark, some mischievous individual sent to the jealous man's house an old man who was looking for his daughter, to enquire—"

So far Frank had listened merely not to appear rude to his sister, but now he at once evinced a great interest, and said, "Well, Maud, what then?"

"Why the man, poor old fellow, went and did as directed, and asked for Clara. The husband, thinking it was the wife who was asked for, as her name was Sarah or Clara, set upon the old man and ill-treated him."

"Show me this paper, Maud," said Frank, quite excited, "quick, for I am anxious."

"Why, Frank, what ails you? You seem more excited than I ever saw you. I trust nothing is wrong."

"No Maud," answered Frank, trying to appear cool, "nothing is wrong, but I have been asked by a client to look for news, and this seems to bear upon it."

"I trust it may, Frank, as you are so interested in your client; but wait and I will show you;" and Maud left him and ran into the house. She soon reappeared, bearing the paper he waited for so anxiously, and he took it from her as soon as she returned, and began to turn it over and over. Maud came to his assistance, and pointed out the much-looked-for local.

"'Tis he, sure enough," muttered Frank to himself, and then he folded up the paper, and, taking up his hat, made at once for Hobart's house, which, being right at the other end of the small town of Timaru, took him some time to reach. Maud, page 222now more surprised than ever, ran in to tell Louie that her brother had certainly "lost a shingle, if not his whole roof."

"Oh, Maud," said Louie, "how can you speak so? You know it is only anxiety for his client that makes him so excited."

"Of course, Louie, I knew I should get no sympathy from you if our whole family had lost their upper story;" and she pretended to be offended.

"Nay, Maud," said Louie, "I meant no offence; you know I would as soon, aye sooner, something happened to me than to you or yours, believe me."

This speech appeared to tickle Maud's fancy, and with a laugh which made the house ring again, she rushed from the room and into the garden.

Luckily for Frank's impatience, Hobart was not at home, so he saw Clara without any delay, and, showing her the paper, said, "I think it must be him without a doubt. Do you not think with me?"

"I can only hope," she replied. "It seems probable; but are we not as far off as ever?"

"I think not. The man mentioned here, or the one that gave the report, will doubtless know the jealous man, and from him I trust we may get some news of who the other was. However, I shall write at once, and ask the Editor as a special favour to place the matter in the hands of someone who will give it his attention. People are generally ready enough to work if they see a chance of reward, and we may be luckier than we think."

"I trust we may; but what endless trouble and bother do I put you to. I shall, I fear, never be able to repay you; but if ever I can in any way, it will be the happiest moment of my life."

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"Talk not of that Clara," was Frank's reply; and looking at her sweet sad face he was about to speak further, but checking himself, he merely said, "I will away now, and give this matter my earnest attention."

Clara anxiously counted the days, and tried to wait patiently, but it was hard to bear, for she had not seen, as she thought, much chance of finding her father, and her impatience knew no bounds.

"Father," she would exclaim, how I will watch over you and consider your every want, if God spares me to find you again. No deception shall again take you from me. No matter what they say or do, for the future I will devote myself to making you happy. I feel it must be my father who has been seeking me, and has only met with ill-treatment. Now he may be sick—aye, even unto death,—and I am not there to comfort and nurse him. I must, I will, hurry to him for fear of his straying off again;" and so she worried herself. Time went on slowly but surely, and day by day she grew more anxious. The colour faded from her face as the time neared; so feeble did she become, that at last she was unable to rise. Medical aid was called in, but the doctor shook his head, for he could find nothing for his skill to work upon, and all were in the greatest state of worry over Clara. Frank, too, could no longer see her, and he was afraid to send notes to cheer her lest they should fall into Hobart's hands. Day by day he became more worried, for do what he would he could not lessen his love for Clara, and now to be shut off from her altogether was worse still.

At last, to mend matters, came Hubbard's letter, but Clara was at that time so ill that Frank was not allowed to see her, and what to do he knew not. With all this trouble on his mind, he became unlike his usual self, and nobody knew the reason— at least, none but Louie. She saw and observed things, and drew her own conclusions; and although she longed to aid page 224Frank, she knew not how. She sometimes thought of telling Frank how much of Clara's secret was hers, and then again she feared to do this, for where is the woman to blacken herself in the eyes of the man she loves, and for the sake of another; but still she often felt half inclined to do so. Frank, too, had begun to think of Louie with more tender thoughts, for of late he had fancied she more than liked him, and out of consideration he withheld himself from asking her to be the bearer of tidings to Clara; but he argued that the news would be of service to her, and she must be informed of it at all hazards.

One day as Louie, dressed for walking, came past where he was standing, Frank said to her, "Ah, Louie, you are going visiting, I see. May I ask where you are going?"

"Certainly, Frank, I am going to see Clara; they say she is worse to-day, and the doctors seem to be able to do nothing for her. Can I take any message for you, Frank?" and as she said this she looked him full in the face, their eyes met, and she murmured "you may trust me, Frank; I know far more than I would had I had the choosing, but it can't be helped."

In that one look Frank saw too plainly that the honest, kind-hearted Louie loved him, and still she offered to be the bearer of love notes to her rival. What she said about knowing more than she wanted to know he never gave himself the trouble of guessing.

"You will do me the greatest of favours, Louie," said he, "if you will take this note. Give it to herself, and let no one see you if you can avoid it, for it is all important to her."

"I will do so, Frank, never fear, if I have to wait there until to-morrow."

"Noble, generous-hearted girl," he muttered, but she was gone and heard not one word of what he said.

Louie hurried on to Hobart's, and finding Clara alone, she page 225said, "Here, Miss Hobart, Clara I mean, read this, it will do for you what the doctors cannot;" and, as she finished speaking she blushed violently, for she saw she had said too much.

"How do you know that, Louie?" asked Clara, noticing the change of colour in Miss Branscombe's face, wondering for the minute if Frank had told her anything, but immediately the thought was gone.

"Read first," Louie answered, "and then you will know, even if you despise me, for I could not help it, Clara, and I dislike deception too much not to tell you."

Clara had by this time opened and read the letter and the enclosure, which consisted of an epistle from Hubbard and also the one from her father. The instant she saw the dear familiar writing she cried out, "He lives, thank God he lives; and I too can live now, for I feel I have something to make existence tolerable. Oh, Louie, you cannot imagine how much happiness you have brought me to-day, and throwing her arms around Louie's neck she rested there, and both mingled their tears.

After some little time Clara said, drying her eyes and turning to Louie, "But why do you weep? You surely have nothing to weep for."

"I weep," said Louie, "not because I suffer, but for joy. I feel sure you have found him you have been seeking, and I can imagine how happy you must feel."

"How did you know this much, Louie? Did he tell you?"

"No," replied Louie, "I learnt it from your own lips, though unwittingly; but I could not prevent hearing it."

Clara here opened her eyes in amazement, for she could not tell what Louie meant. A few words, however, sufficed to explain, and when Louie had told her companion how she had learnt her sad story, she added, "I could not help it, Clara, or I would not page 226have listened. I had no desire to hear what I did, for the news pained me. Until Maud came to my assistance I was unable to move, in fact for part of the time I must have lost consciousness, for I knew not what occurred."

"Poor Louie," said Clara, "I am quite sure you never listened from any desire to hear, so let that satisfy you. And then, Louie, you know all, and still you come here to-day and treat me in the kindest manner possible."

"Why should I do otherwise? You have only done wrong from the desire to benefit others. You have but sacrificed yourself for the sake of those dear to you. But retribution will surely come, Clara, and then the innocent will receive justice and the guilty will, let us hope, receive the punishment they merit."

"Well," said Clara, "it matters not to us so long as those who have been wronged obtain justice; if the guilty go unpunished, they can be left to the tender mercies of their consciences."

For several hours did Louie and Clara talk. After the letter Clara became quite animated; the pain she had previously endured seemed to have gone, and they told each other their little plans for the future. As Maud had said, their tempers were indeed alike and they felt interest in the same things. So they sat on until Louie at last remembered that Frank in all probability awaited a reply, and she accordingly rose to depart,

"Shall I take any message for you, Clara?" she asked.

"These letters, I think, had better go back, for you know I may lose them, and I would not have them fall into the enemy's hands, as I wish the shock, when it does arrive, to be complete and sudden."

Louie took the letters and hurried back. As she had expected, Frank had been patiently awaiting a reply.

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"She is much better now, Frank," she said, "the news you sent did wonders. She requested me to bring these to you for safe keeping."

Frank would have questioned her further concerning her visit, but after giving back the letters she brushed past him, and before he had decided what to say, she was gone.

"How much and how little does Louie know?" he asked himself. "Why did she run away like that? I begin to see I have been unwise, as I have perhaps encouraged this sweet girl to love me, and never have I shown her any return. I am a brute, or I would consider others more and myself less; but for the future I will try and do better;" and so Frank resolved that he would endeavour to atone to Louie for his past indifference, give her more of his company, and so by degrees, in a brotherly way, break her off her attachment to him. Pious resolve, no doubt; but who is there in this world who can place himself continually in the company of one with as sweet a disposition as Louie, and not before long find the love she may have for him is far from being an objectionable passion, but on the contrary one that the best of us like to enjoy. But man ever was, and ever will be, vain of his strength. Of course, it would be wrong in its entirety to say Frank did not possess the strength of mind to do as he desired, but the issue of events will show how far he succeeded. He himself has not a fear—in fact, he firmly believes that his strength is quite equal to this, and more; but Frank Perryman, like many others, has much to learn. At present he thinks and believes that, to him, it would be impossible to love any other woman than Clara, but stronger minds than his have loved twice—aye, even more,—and why should not he?