The White Virgin Part 20

"Do, boy! tied the money up as tight as the law can tie it. My little bit is to be in the hands of trustees, and she will get the dividends, but she cannot sell out and give the money to your blackguard of a brother; and in a very short time he'll know it, begin to ill-use her, and go on till she shows that she has some spirit, and then she'll turn upon him, there'll be a row, and she'll come home."

Clive sat frowning.

"It will be my revenge upon the scoundrel. I say, by the way, that little parlour-maid, Lyddy, what about her?"

"I know nothing," said Clive sadly.

"The scoundrel has spirited her away somewhere, I suppose. Ah! well, they'll make him suffer for it in the long-run, and you and I will have a pretty revenge. There now, not another word about either of them.

You told me you were going down to Derbys.h.i.+re again."

"Yes, to-morrow."

"That's right! Go and work, my lad. You won't do it merely for the money, but to carry out my poor old friend's wishes. You've got to make that mine a very big success. I've put a lot in it, my boy, so you mustn't let me lose. I mean to take up what Byron calls a good old gentlemanly vice--avarice. Don't be down-hearted, boy. Have another gla.s.s of claret, and we'll drink to your success. One of these days I shall come and drink your bride's health. Some true, sweet girl, whom I can call daughter. Ah! you shake your head now, because you have just been to the funeral of your coming hopes. But wait a bit, my boy. The world turns round, and after the winter the summer comes again."

Clive Reed sighed, and at that hour, sick and sore at heart, and despairing, as much on account of the woman he loved as upon his own, everything ahead looked black but the prospect of his late father's venture, and over this he now set himself to work; not to make money, for he had plenty, but to dull the gnawing pain always busy at his heart.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

THE UNDERCURRENT.

"Hah! I nearly had you that time, my fine fellow," said Major Gurdon, as he stood deep in the shade, where twilight was falling fast, and ever and anon he deftly threw a fly with his lissome rod right across to the edge of the black water, where the deep suddenly grew shallow, and a sharp rippling was made by the swiftly flowing stream.

"Feel it chilly, my dear?" he said, as he made the bra.s.s winch chirrup as he drew out more line.

"No, dear," said Dinah, with her pale, troubled face lighting up, as she stood there holding a landing-net. "It is very beautiful and cool and pleasant now."

"Ah! that sounds better," said the Major, as he made his fine line whish through the air and sent the fly far away down-stream. "You have been fidgeting me, my dear."

"I, papa?" said the girl hurriedly.

"Yes. You haven't seemed the same since you had that fall."

"Oh, it was nothing much, dear."

"But it was a good deal to make you look so white and upset ever since.--Missed him!--Do you know, my dear," continued the Major, making another throw, "I lay awake half last night thinking that I ought to take you up to London to see some clever physician."

"Oh, no, no, no," said the girl hurriedly. "You shouldn't fidget about that. I am better. I am, indeed."

"Then impossibilities have come to pa.s.s, and your little face is deceitful."

"You take too much notice of things, dear," said Dinah, shrinking a little behind her father, so as to hide the fresh shade of trouble in her countenance.

"Oh no, I don't," said the Major, as he threw his fly again. "I have not studied your face since you were a baby, Diny, for nothing. Do you know, my dear," he continued, as his child stood with her lips pressed so firmly together that they formed a thin white line, "I really think that fish have more gumption than we give them credit for. They really do get to be educated and know when they are being fished for."

"Well, what wonder that they should refuse to take a tiny patch of hair and feathers hiding a hook?"

"But it's a lovely black gnat I am trying, my dear. I couldn't tell it in the water from the real; and there: look at that," he cried, in a tone full of vexation, as a big trout suddenly sucked down an unfortunate fly floating close by the Major's cunningly made lure. "I knew that fellow was there, and I hereby register a vow that I mean to have him wrapped in b.u.t.tered writing-paper and grilled for my breakfast before I have done. What a--ah! that's a good throw, right above him.

That ought to tempt any natural fish. Got him!--Be ready with the net,"

he cried. "Not yet," as there was a wallow, a boil in the water, a splash, and an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n as the Major's rod, which had bent nearly double, became straight again.

"Lost him, papa?"

"Lost him! Of course. My usual luck. Lightly hooked in the lip.-- Eh?--No. A badly-tempered hook snapped short off. I wish the scoundrel who made it--Dinah, my dear, would you mind walking just out of hearing.

There are a few good old trooper's oaths just suitable to this occasion, and I should like to let them off."

Dinah did not stir, but a sad smile crossed her features, and she stood waiting while her father selected a fresh fly, straightened the gut, and began to fasten it to the collar of his line.

"Such a pity! Just as I had hooked him too. I wonder whether he will try again. I was going to say what a deal of trouble one does take, and what an amount of time one does waste in fis.h.i.+ng. And so you think that I need not take you up to town?"

"Oh, no, no," cried Dinah quickly. "I am quite well."

"Ahem!"

"Well, nearly well again, dear. Don't fidget about me, pray."

"Oh, no. You are of no consequence whatever, not the slightest; and I am to take no interest in you of any kind. Ah! you are a strange girl, Di, but you make my life bearable, only it seems brutally selfish to keep you down here in this wilderness."

"You know I am very happy here."

"No, I do not," said the Major, whipping the stream rather viciously.

"You have looked miserable for a month past."

"No, no, dear, you exaggerate," said Dinah, with a smile that was piteous. "There! I am going to be as cheerful as can be now, and you shall hear me singing about the place again."

"Hah! at last!" cried the Major, striking sharply. "Home this time, Di.

I believe it's that big trout with the distorted tail-fin. That's right, my fine fellow; run, but I think I have you. No more lovely May-flies to be sucked down your capacious gullet. I have you, my tyrant of the waters. I'll bring him in ten yards lower down, my dear.

Mind and get your net well under him, and don't touch him with the ring."

There followed five minutes' playing of the gallant fish, which leaped twice out of the water in its desperate efforts to escape, and then it was gently reeled in and lifted out on the stones.

"Best this season, my dear. A beauty," said the Major, transferring the speckled beauty to his creel, and preparing for another throw. It was suppertime with the trout in the twilight, and they were feeding eagerly now, as the Major began once more--casting his line, and chatting the while to his child, who stood just beside him on his left.

"They're pretty busy bringing the machinery over to the mine, I see."

"Indeed?"

"Yes; and the men told me that Mr What's-his-name, Reed, is down again."

Dinah drew a faint breath and exhaled it in something like a sigh.

"Reed--bad name for a man of trust. I say, Dinah, I don't like that other fellow, that man Sturgess, at all."

Dinah's hands grasped the landing-net handle convulsively.

"He is offensive. A coa.r.s.e, overbearing, brutal sort of fellow. I don't like the way he looks at me. I suppose in his eyes a man living down here in a cottage cannot be a gentleman. I shall have to give him a setting down. He is not coming to lord it over us. I saw him fis.h.i.+ng below here the other day."

"No, no, don't speak to him," cried Dinah hastily.