Adrien Leroy Part 36

She looked at him in wonder, hardly believing the evidence of her own ears. Was this all the reproach and anger he would deal out to her?

Could it be possible that, knowing all, the man she had loved, yet feared, solely on this account, would not only forgive but take her into his heart again? As if in answer to her bewildered thoughts, John's arm was around her neck, and his kiss of forgiveness fell upon her lips.

Presently, she looked up, with a look of ineffable peace and grat.i.tude on her face.

"John," she said, "send for poor father; it will be new life to him to know that this dreadful weight is off my heart, and that you, knowing what a bad woman I have been, will still call me your wife. Oh, fetch him to me soon, dear, that he may be happy too."

Her husband kissed her again, and without another word left the room.

Giving some directions to the neighbour who was still in the shop, he set out at once on his journey. He drove into Hampton and took the first train to London, where he intended to tell his father-in-law the whole story, and learn what details he could; for he did not wish ever to bring up the subject again, so far as Lucy was concerned.

Now it happened that Mr. Harker was late at the office that night, bending, sad and wrinkled, over his interminable papers; the whole business connected with which was so repugnant to him. Sigh after sigh escaped his thin lips, as he read the piteous appeals, and knew that he must refuse them; must deal out fresh misery against his will. It was hard to be the tool of such a merciless fiend; to be the servant of such a master of deceit, villainy and fraud; but so greatly did the father love his child that he would scarce have hesitated in committing a murder had Jasper Vermont set that crime as a price of his forbearance and silence. He would have purchased his daughter's safety and happiness with his heart's blood, if need be.

Unconscious of the release that was so fast approaching, he worked on, setting in order the various accounts which Vermont would require to be laid before him on the following day; and entering in a book concise histories of the debts and difficulties which placed dozens of Jasper's acquaintances within his power.

A knock at the door startled him, and roused him from his task. Hastily shutting the ledger before which he was seated, and covering the deeds and doc.u.ments with a large sheet of paper, the old man rose and opened the door.

It was his son-in-law, John Ashford, and at the sight of his round, kindly face, Harker staggered back, and clutched at the table.

"Lucy!" he gasped out. "Is she ill?"

"All right! All right!" said John rea.s.suringly, but in a quieter voice than his usual jovial one. "Don't be frightened. But when she says 'Go and fetch father,' you see, I come and fetch you directly."

Mr. Harker was not to be deceived by this attempt at a jest.

"She is ill!" he cried, the perspiration breaking out on his forehead.

John nodded.

"She is better now," he said. "But I should like you to come down at once. We shall catch a train to Hampton Court, and I have a trap waiting for me there." Without any further explanation--for after thinking the matter over, he had determined that Lucy herself should break the news to her father--he helped the old man, still trembling and shaking, to put on his coat, and to lock up the office; and it was not until they were well on their way, that John told him how he had found his wife a fortnight ago, lying unconscious on the ground.

Mr. Harker's troubled face darkened, and his thin hands clenched and unclenched themselves, for he knew Mr. Vermont only too well, and the thought had already crossed his mind that this sudden illness was in some way due to that gentleman's interference.

Outside Hampton Court station they found the horse and cart for which John had arranged; and the two men got in silently and started off once more. They were within a short distance of their destination, when John pulled up the horse with an exclamation of astonishment. They were in a narrow lane, with barely room enough for the cart to pa.s.s along, and almost within a yard of the horse's hoofs stood the figure of a young girl.

Ashford recognised her in an instant; with a shout of warning, he threw the reins to his father-in-law and, leaping to the ground, caught the girl by the arm.

"Jessica!" he cried reproachfully. "What are you doing here?"

She looked up at him in silence, and her eyes filled with tears.

"I am coming back to you," she said at last, in a low voice, "if you will have me? There was some one I wanted to see again in London, or I would never have gone; for, oh! sir, I know how good you and Mrs.

Ashford have been to me."

John appeared relieved.

"I thought you weren't one of the sort to go off and leave my Lucy just because she was ill and wanted extra help," he said, in a tone of relief.

"Ill," repeated Jessica, with a look of bewilderment. "She was not ill when I left her. It was the other lady who was ill."

John, of course, knew nothing of Lady Merivale, and gazed at Jessica as though she had taken leave of her senses.

"I don't know what lady you mean," he said; "but my wife has been very ill for the past two weeks, and asking for you often. You see, I thought you had run away and left her."

"I will drive back with you, please, sir, if you have room for me. I didn't know Mrs. Ashford was ill," said the girl, humbly following him, as he turned towards the trap.

He lifted her up, and fastened her in securely.

All this time Mr. Harker had taken no notice of the little episode, save to wonder slightly at the delay. But directly he caught sight of the vivid, dark beauty of the girl, he started.

"Who is this?" he asked John, who was hurriedly driving on again.

"A poor girl whom Lucy has befriended," he replied. "Why, did you think you recognised her?"

Mr. Harker shook his head. She strongly resembled some one he had seen; but, for the moment, he could not call to mind who that person was.

"What is her name?" he inquired.

"Jessica," replied his son-in-law. "She doesn't seem to know any other."

They drove on in silence, broken presently by Mr. Harker, who had stolen another glance at the silent girl.

"A wonderful likeness," he murmured. "I could have sworn that was Ada Lester, the actress, as she used to be."

He relapsed again into silence, and John was too much wrapped up in his own thoughts to question him further.

They reached the little shop at last, and Jessica ran lightly and quickly up to the bedroom. She was welcomed warmly by Lucy, who had grown to like the girl, and had been greatly upset by her absence.

"I'm glad you have come back, dear," she whispered, as Jessica bent over her. "Where have you been?"

"To London, dear Mrs. Ashford. I did not know you were ill. I came back with Mr. Ashford."

"John!" exclaimed Lucy, the colour rising in her face. "My father as well?"

"Yes," said the girl. "I will call them."

She did so, and a moment later John and Mr. Harker entered the room.

"Here he is, dear, you shall tell him the news yourself, while I take the horse back," said the kindly John. He bent over and kissed her; and Lucy followed him with wistful, adoring eyes, as he went out accompanied by Jessica.

The next half-hour was an affecting one for father and daughter. Harker could hardly believe the good news; for so long had they tried and succeeded in keeping the truth back from Ashford, that it seemed incredible indeed that he had forgiven freely and wholly. Mr. Harker looked a different being when, after kissing his daughter affectionately, he left her and went down to the little parlour.

John was sitting smoking his pipe; but he started up when the old man entered.

"What is the matter?" he said, as he looked at his pale face. "Is she worse?"

"No," said Harker. "She is better, thank Heaven! John Ashford," he continued humbly, "I have come to beg your forgiveness for the pain we have caused you. I knew my girl to be a good girl, although she had once been so foolish. I knew she would make you a true loving wife, in spite of her sin. It was I who overcame her scruples, and bade her marry you.

I did it for the best. I did it that she might be happy; for I knew how she loved you, and she so feared to lose your love and respect. She tells me you have forgiven her, but can you forgive me?"

John grasped his hand.