Hetty Wesley Part 15

"Greek! You don't tell me that Greek makes a person want to walk out of a comfortable house at a moment's notice and leave my poor darlings on the stream!"

"Oh, no," agreed Patty. "You will not allow it, of course?"

"Perhaps you'll tell me how to prevent it? In all my life I don't remember being so much annoyed."

So Hetty had her way, packed a small bundle, and was ready at the gate for the pa.s.sing of the carrier's van which would set her down within a mile of home. She had acted on an impulse, unreasoning, but not to be resisted. She felt the crisis of her life approaching and had urgent need, before it came on her, to make confession and cleanse her soul. She knew she was hurrying towards a tempest; but, whatever it might wreck, she panted for the clear sky beyond. In her fever the van seemed to crawl and the miles to drag themselves out interminably.

She was within a mile of her journey's end when a horseman met and pa.s.sed the van at a jog-trot. Hetty glanced after him, wrenched open the door and sprang out upon the road with a cry--

"Father!"

Mr. Wesley heard her and turned his head; then reined up the filly and came slowly back. The van was at a standstill, the driver craning his head and staring aft in wholly ludicrous bewilderment.

"Dropped anything?" he asked, as Hetty ran to him. She thrust the fare into his hand without answering and faced around again to meet her father.

He came slowly, with set jaws. He offered no greeting.

"I was expecting this," he said. "Indeed, I was riding to Kelstein to fetch you home."

"But--but why?" she stammered.

"Why?" A short savage laugh broke from him, almost like a dog's bark; but he held his temper down. "Because I do not choose to have a decent household infected by a daughter of mine. Because, if sisters of yours must needs be exposed to the infection, it shall be where I am present to watch them and control you. I have received a letter--"

She stared at him dismayed, remembering the man Wright and his threat.

"And upon that you judge me, without a hearing?" She let her arms drop beside her.

"Will you deny it? Will you deny you have been in the habit of meeting--no, I see you will not. Apparently Mrs. Grantham has dismissed you."

"Sir, Mrs. Grantham has not dismissed me. I came away against her wish, because--"

"Well?" he waited, chewing his wrath.

It was idle now to say she had come meaning to confess. That chance had gone.

"I ask you to remember, sir, that I never promised not to meet him."

Since a fight it must be, she picked up all her courage for it.

"I had no right to promise it."

His mouth opened, but shut again like a trap. He had the self-control to postpone battle. "We will see about that," he said grimly. "Meanwhile, please you mount behind me and ride."

As they jogged towards Wroote, Hetty, holding on by her father's coat, seemed to feel in her finger-tips the wrath pent up and working in his small body. She was profoundly dejected; so profoundly that she almost forgot to be indignant with William Wright; but she had no thought of striking her colours. She built some hope upon Sam, too.

Sam might not take her part openly, but he at least had always been kind to her.

"Does Sam know?" she took heart to ask as they came in sight of the parsonage.

"Sam?"

"Patty tells me he is here with his wife and little Philly."

"I am glad to say that Patty is mistaken. They took their departure yesterday."

CHAPTER VI.

"Oh, Hetty!" was all Molly could find to say, rus.h.i.+ng into the back garret where Hetty stood alone, and clinging to her with a long kiss.

Hetty held the dear deformed body against her bosom for a while, then relaxing her arms, turned towards the small window in the eaves.

"My dear," she answered with a wry smile, "it had to come, you see, and now we must go through with it."

"But who could have written that wicked letter? Mother will not tell us--even if she knows, which I doubt."

"I fancy I know. And you must not exaggerate, even in your love for me. I don't suppose the letter was wicked, though it may have been spiteful."

"It accused you of the most dreadful things."

"If it be dreadful to meet the man you love, and in secret, then I have been behaving dreadfully."

"O-oh!"

"And that is just what I came home to confess." She paused at the sight of Molly's face. "What! are you against me too? Then I must fight this out alone, it seems."

"Darling Hetty, you must not--ah, don't look so at me!"

But Hetty turned her back. "Please leave me."

"If you had only written--"

"That would take long to explain. I am tired, and it is not worth while; please leave me."

"But you do not understand. I had to come, although for the time father has forbidden us to speak with you--"

Hetty stepped to the door and held it open. "Then one of his daughters at any rate shall be dutiful," she said.

Molly flung her an imploring look and walked out, sobbing.

"Is Hetty not coming down to supper?" Emilia asked in the kitchen that evening. Mrs. Wesley with her daughters and Johnny Whitelamb supped there as a rule when not entertaining visitors. The Rector took his meals alone, in the parlour.

"Your father has locked her in. Until to-morrow he forbids her to have anything but bread and water," answered Mrs. Wesley.

"And she is twenty-seven years old," added Molly.

All looked at her; even Johnny Whitelamb looked, with a face as long as a fiddle. The comment was quiet, but the note of scorn in it could not be mistaken. Molly in revolt! Molly, of all persons!

Molly sat trembling. She knew that among them all Johnny was her one ally--and a hopelessly distressed and ineffective one. He had turned his head quickly and leaned forward, blinking and spreading his hands--though the season was high summer--to the cold embers of the kitchen fire; his heart torn between adoration of Hetty and the old dog-like wors.h.i.+p of his master.

"Molly dear, she has deceived him and us all," was Mrs. Wesley's reproof, unexpectedly gentle.