My poor darling was peacefully asleep. Judging by the miller's manner, which was as cool and composed as usual, I gathered that Cristel had wisely kept him in ignorance of what had happened on the previous evening.
The inquiry which I had next in my mind was forestalled by old Toller.
"Our deaf-devil, Mr. Gerard, has done a thing this morning which puzzles me," he began; "and I should like to hear what you think of it. For the first time since we have had him here, he has opened his door to a visitor. And--what a surprise for you!--it's the other devil with the hat and feather who got at my Cristy, and made her cry."
That this meeting would be only too likely to happen, in due course of time, I had never doubted. That it had happened, now, confirmed me in my resolution to keep guard over Cristel at the cottage, till the Cur left it.
I asked, of course, how those two enemies of mine had first seen each other.
"She was just going to knock at our door, Mr. Gerard, when she happened to look up. There he was, airing himself at his window as usual. Do you think she was too much staggered at the sight of him to speak? At any rate, he got the start of her. "Wait till I come down," says he--and there he was, almost as soon as he said it. They went into his place together; and for best part of an hour they were in each other's company. Every man has his failings; I don't deny that I'm a little inquisitive by nature. Between ourselves, I got under the open window and listened. At a great disadvantage, I needn't tell you; for she was obliged to write what she had to say. But he talked. I was too late for the cream of it; I only heard him wish her good-bye. 'If your ladyship telegraphs this morning,' says he, 'when will the man come to me?' Now what do you say to that?"
"More than I have time to say now, Mr. Toller. Can you find me a messenger to take a note to Trimley Deen?"
"We have no messengers in this lonesome place, sir."
"Very well. Then I must take my own message. You will see me again, as soon as I can get back."
Mr. Toller's ready curiosity was roused in a moment.
"Perhaps, you wish to have a look at the repairs?" he suggested in his most insinuating manner.
"I wish to see what her ladyship's telegram brings forth," I said; and mean to be here when 'the man' arrives."
My venerable tenant was delighted. "Turn him inside out, sir, and get at his secrets. I'll help you."
Returning to Trimley Deen, I ordered the pony-chaise to be got ready, and a small portmanteau to be packed--speaking in the hall. The sound of my voice brought Mrs. Roylake out of the morning-room. She was followed by Lady Rachel. If I could only have heard their private conference, I should have seen the dangerous side of the Cur's character under a new aspect.
"Gerard!" cried my stepmother, "what did I hear just now? You can't be going back to Germany!"
"Certainly not," I answered.
"Going to stay with some friends perhaps?" Lady Rachel suggested. "I wonder whether I know them?"
It was spitefully done--but, in respect of tone and manner, done to perfection.
The pony-chaise drew up at the door. This was another of the rare occasions in my life on which I acted discreetly. It was necessary for me to say something. I said, "Good morning."
Nothing had happened at the cottage, during the interval of my absence. Clever as he was, old Toller had never suspected that I should return to him (with luggage!) in the character of a self-invited guest. His jaw dropped, and his wicked little eyes appealed to the sky. Merciful Providence! what have I done to deserve this? There, as I read him, was the thought in the miller's mind, expressed in my best English.
"Have you got a spare bed in the house?" I asked.
Mr. Toller forgot the respect due to the person who could stop the repairs at a moment's notice. He answered in the tone of a man who had been grossly insulted: "No!"
But for the anxieties that oppressed me, I should have only perceived the humorous side of old Toller's outbreak of temper. He had chosen his time badly, and he got a serious reply.
"Understand this," I said: "either you receive me civilly--or you make up your mind to find a flour-mill on some other property than mine."
This had its effect. The miller's servility more than equalled his insolence. With profuse apologies, he offered me his own bedroom. I preferred a large old-fashioned armchair which stood in a corner of the kitchen. Listening in a state of profound bewilderment--longing to put inquisitive questions, and afraid to do so--Toller silently appealed to my compassion. I had nothing to conceal; I mentioned my motive. Without intending it, I had wounded him in one of his most tender places; the place occupied by his good opinion of himself. He said with sulky submission:
"Much obliged, Mr. Gerard. My girl is safe under my protection. Leave it to me, sir--leave it to me."
I had just reminded old Toller of his age, and of the infirmities which age brings with it, when his daughter--pale and languid, with signs of recent tears in her eyes--entered the kitchen. When I approached her, she trembled and drew back; apparently designing to leave the room. Her father stopped her. "Mr. Gerard has something to tell you," he said. "I'm off to the mill." He took up his hat, and left us.
Submitting sadly, she let me take her in my arms, and try to cheer her. But when I alluded to what I owed to her admirable devotion and courage, she entreated me to be silent. "Don't bring it all back!" she cried, shuddering at the remembrances which I had awakened, "Father said you had something to tell me. What is it?"
I repeated (in language more gentle and more considerate) what I had already said to her father. She took my hand, and kissed it gratefully. "You have your mother's face, and your mother's heart," she said; "you are always good, you are never selfish. But it mustn't be. How can I let you suffer the discomfort of staying here? Indeed, I am in no danger; you are alarming yourself without a cause."
"How can you be sure of that?" I asked.
She looked reluctantly at the door of communication.
"Must I speak of him?"
"Only to tell me," I pleaded, "whether you have seen him since last night."
She had both seen him and heard from him, on reaching home. "He opened that door," she told me, "and threw on the floor one of the leaves out of his book. After doing that, he relieved me from the sight of him."
"Show me the leaf, Cristel."
"Father has got it. I thought he was asleep in the armchair. He snatched it out of my hand. It isn't worth reading."
She turned pale, nevertheless, when she replied in those terms. I could see that I was disturbing her, when I asked if she remembered what the Cur had written. But our position was far too serious to be trifled with. "I suppose he threatened you?" I said, trying to lead her on. "What did he say?"
"He said, if any attempt was made to remove me out of his reach, after what had happened that evening, my father would find him on the watch day and night, and would regret it to the end of his life.