Eves Ransom | Page 7

they saw each other but once a month.
"No bad news, I hope!" he remarked aside to her, as he took his place at the table.
"Oh, no. I'll tell you afterwards."
Very soon after the meal Mrs. Hilliard took the child away and put her to bed. During her absence the visitor sat brooding, a peculiar half-smile on his face. She came back, drew a chair up to the fire, but did not sit down.
"Well, what is it?" asked her brother-in-law, much as he might have spoken to the little girl.
"I have something very serious to talk about, Maurice."
"Have you? All right; go ahead."
"I--I am so very much afraid I shall offend you."
The young man laughed.
"Not very likely. I can take a good deal from you."
She stood with her hands on the back of the chair, and as he looked at her, Hilliard saw her pale cheeks grow warm.
"It'll seem very strange to you, Maurice."
"Nothing will seem strange after an adventure I've had this afternoon. You shall hear about it presently."
"Tell me your story first."
"That's like a woman. All right, I'll tell you. I met that scoundrel Dengate, and--he's paid me the money he owed my father."
"He has paid it? Oh! really?"
"See, here's a cheque, and I think it likely I can turn it into cash. The blackguard has been doing well at Liverpool. I'm not quite sure that I understand the reptile, but he seems to have given me this because I abused him. I hurt his vanity, and he couldn't resist the temptation to astonish me. He thinks I shall go about proclaiming him a noble fellow. Four hundred and thirty-six pounds; there it is."
He tossed the piece of paper into the air with boyish glee, and only just caught it as it was fluttering into the fire.
"Oh, be careful!" cried Mrs. Hilliard.
"I told him he was a scoundrel, and he began by threatening to thrash me. I'm very glad he didn't try. It was in the train, and I know very well I should have strangled him. It would have been awkward, you know."
"Oh, Maurice, how can you----?"
"Well, here's the money; and half of it is yours."
"Mine? Oh, no! After all you have given me. Besides, I sha'n't want it."
"How's that?"
Their eyes mete Hilliard again saw the flush in her cheeks, and began to guess its explanation. He looked puzzled, interested.
"Do I know him?" was his next inquiry.
"Should you think it very wrong of me?" She moved aside from the line of his gaze. "I couldn't imagine how you would take it."
"It all depends. Who is the man?"
Still shrinking towards a position where Hilliard could not easily observe her, the young widow told her story. She had consented to marry a man of whom her brother-in-law knew little but the name, one Ezra Marr; he was turned forty, a widower without children, and belonged to a class of small employers of labour known in Birmingham as "little masters." The contrast between such a man and Maurice Hilliard's brother was sufficiently pronounced; but the widow nervously did her best to show Ezra Marr in a favourable light.
"And then," she added after a pause, while Hilliard was reflecting, "I couldn't go on being a burden on you. How very few men would have done what you have----"
"Stop a minute. Is that the real reason? If so----"
Hurriedly she interposed.
"That was only one of the reasons--only one."
Hilliard knew very well that her marriage had not been entirely successful; it seemed to him very probable that with a husband of the artisan class, a vigorous and go-ahead fellow, she would be better mated than in the former instance. He felt sorry for his little niece, but there again sentiment doubtless conflicted with common-sense. A few more questions, and it became clear to him that he had no ground of resistance.
"Very well. Most likely you are doing a wise thing. And half this money is yours; you'll find it useful."
The discussion of this point was interrupted by a tap at the door. Mrs. Hilliard, after leaving the room for a moment, returned with rosy countenance.
"He is here," she murmured. "I thought I should like you to meet him this evening. Do you mind?"
Mr. Marr entered; a favourable specimen of his kind; strong, comely, frank of look and speech. Hilliard marvelled somewhat at his choice of the frail and timid little widow, and hoped upon marriage would follow no repentance. A friendly conversation between the two men confirmed them in mutual good opinion. At length Mrs. Hilliard spoke of the offer of money made by her brother-in-law.
"I don't feel I've any right to it," she said, after explaining the circumstances. "You know what Maurice has done for me. I've always felt I was robbing him----"
"I wanted to say something about that," put in the bass-voiced Ezra.