"Jerry! oh Jerry!" sighed the damsel, clasping her hands, and in came Mr. Snow, walking swiftly across the grass, apparently as frantic for Dinah as Dinah was for him. At the moment neither lunatic took notice of the amused hostess.
"My Dinah! my own!" gasped Jerry, devouring his Dulcinea with two ardent eyes, the light of which was hidden by pince-nez.
Jerry assuredly was no beauty, save that his proportions were good, and he dressed very smartly. He possessed a brown skin which matched well with brown hair and moustache, and had about him the freshness of twenty-two years, which is so charming and lasts so short a time. Dinah with her freckles, her drab hair, and nose "tip-tilted like the petal of a flower"--to mercifully quote Tennyson--suited him very well in looks. And then love made both of them look quite interesting, although not even the all-transforming passion could render them anything but homely. Beside the engaged damsel, Beatrice, tall, slender, dark-locked and dark-eyed, looked like a goddess, but Jerry the devoted had no eye for her while Dinah was present. Had he been Paris, Miss Paslow decidedly would have been awarded the apple. Not having one, he stared at Dinah and she at him as though they were meeting for the first time. Beatrice, impatient of this oblivion to her presence, brought them from Heaven to earth.
"I have to congratulate you, Mr. Snow," she remarked.
"Mr. Snow!" echoed Dinah, jumping up as though a wasp had stung her; "you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Beatrice! Haven't you known Jerry for--oh! for ever so long?
"For quite three years, dear; but, you see, I don't visit at the Vicarage," and Beatrice spoke with some bitterness, as Jerry's mother had always been unkind to the lonely girl, for reasons connected with what Mrs. Snow regarded as her anomalous position.
Jerry coloured and blinked behind his glasses. "I know what you mean, Miss Hedge," he said regretfully, "but don't worry. Call me Jerry as usual; what does it matter what mother thinks?"
"Ah," said Dinah, quivering with alarm, "what does she think of us?"
"Well, she"--Jerry hesitated, and finally answered the question with a solemn warning--"I don't think I'd call at the Vicarage for a few days, Dinah sweetest. She--she--well, you know mother."
"Why does Mrs. Snow object?" asked Beatrice very directly.
"I know oh, none better!" almost shouted Dinah; "no money!"
Jerry nodded, with an admiring glance at her cleverness. "No money."
"I thought so; and Mrs. Snow wants you to marry a millionairess?"
Jerry nodded again. "As though a millionairess would look at the likes of me!" said he, with the chuckle of a nestling.
"I wouldn't give even the plainest of them a chance!" cried Dinah jealously; "you could marry anyone with the way you have, Jerry dear."
Miss Hedge laughed gaily. "Show me the way you have, Jerry dear!" she mimicked, whereat the young lover blushed redder than the poppies.
"Oh, what rot! See here, girls both, we're all pals."
"Dinah is something more than a pal since yesterday," observed Beatrice pointedly.
"Oh, you know what I mean. Well, then father is pleased and would marry us himself, to save fees; but mother--oh, Lord!"
"Will she part us, Jerry?" demanded Dinah in a small voice.
Bashful as he was, Mr. Snow rose to the occasion, and taking her in his strong arms kissed her twice.
"That's what I think!" said he, with the air of Ajax defying the lightning. "We'll be cut off with a shilling by mother; but we shall marry all the same, and live on the bread and cheese and kisses provided by the Morning Planet."
"Thank you," said Miss Paslow tartly, "I provide my own kisses."
"No, darling heart!" gurgled the ardent Jerry, "I do that!" and was about to repeat his conduct when the ceremony was interrupted.
From the dungeon came the sound of a shrill voice indulging in abusive language. A few moments later and the narrow door was flung violently open. Vivian Paslow came out quietly enough, and was followed by a bent, dried-up ape of a man who was purple with fury. The contrast between the money-lender and his client was most marked. Alpenny was the missing link itself, and Vivian appeared beside him like one of a higher and more human race. Without taking any notice of the furious old creature, he walked towards the startled Beatrice and shook her by the hand.
"Good-bye, Miss Hedge," he said loudly; then suddenly sank his voice to a hurried whisper. "Meet me to-night at seven, under the Witches' Oak."
"Leave my place!" cried Alpenny, hobbling up, to interrupt this leave-taking; "you shall not speak to her."
Paslow took his amazed sister on his arm and crossed to the gate, while Jerry, blinking and puzzled, followed after. Beatrice, as startled by Paslow's request as she was by the scene, remained where she was, and her stepfather chased his three visitors into the lane with opprobrious names. But before he could close the gate, Vivian turned suddenly on the abusive old wretch.
"I came to do you a service," said he, "but you would not listen."
"You came to levy blackmail. You asked----"
"Silence!" cried Paslow, with a gesture which reduced Alpenny to a stuttering, incoherent condition. "I never threatened you."
"You did--you do! You want your property back, and----"
Vivian, with a swift glance at Beatrice, silenced the man again. "If I lose my property, I lose it," said he sternly; "but the other thing I refuse to lose. And, remember, your life is in danger."
Alpenny spluttered. "My life, you--you scoundrel!"
"Father! Father!" pleaded Beatrice, approaching anxiously.
Paslow took no notice, but still looked at the angry old man with a firm and significant expression. "Remember the Black Patch," said he in a clear, loud voice. The effect was instantaneous. Alpenny, from purple, turned perfectly white; from swearing volubility, he was reduced to a frightened silence.
Beatrice looked at him in amazement, and so--strange to say--did Vivian, who had spoken the mysterious words. For a moment he stared at the shaking, pale-faced miser, who was casting terrified looks over his shoulder, and then went out of the gate. Alpenny stood as though turned into stone until he heard the clatter of the retreating horses. Then he raised his head and looked wildly round.
"The third time!" he muttered; and Beatrice was sufficiently near to notice his abject fear. "The third time!"
CHAPTER II
THE HINTS OF DURBAN
Beatrice meditated in the parlour-carriage on the scene which had taken place at noon between her stepfather and Paslow. Without vouchsafing the least explanation, Alpenny had crept back to his den and was there still, with the door locked as usual. Twice and thrice did Durban call him to the midday meal, but he declined to come out. Beatrice had therefore eaten alone, and was now enjoying a cup of fragrant coffee which Durban had lately brought in. At the moment, he was washing
