The Runaways by Nat Gould (best way to read an ebook .txt) 📖

Todd's great affection and devotedness to Ulick, and felt certain he would extract the truth from Janet if she lived with him again. He had wronged Irene, and deceived her, but he meant to shield her from the consequences of his folly at any cost. She must never know that he had been cowardly enough to allow Ulick to lie under the ban of a false accusation.

He left the train at Feltham, and walked to Mrs. Hoffman's.

Janet shook hands with him as an ordinary acquaintance; there was no love between them now, whatever there had been a couple of years ago. The more she saw of him and learned his nature, the more she despised him.

"You are looking well," he said, "the world is treating you better than me."

"Is it?" she answered, carelessly. "I am very unhappy, I want to go home again. I cannot rest until Mr. Ulick's name is cleared. It is a shame he should suffer for your fault."

"My fault and yours," he said, angrily. "You always lay all the blame at my door."

"And that is where it ought to be. I was a fool ever to trust you."

"I have done all I can for you, more than I can afford."

She laughed as she replied—

"That is nice talk for the owner of Anselm Manor."

"It is true nevertheless. I have sold the Holme Farm to pay my debts."

"I don't believe it."

"Read that," he said, and handed her the paper with an account of the sale.

"Ten thousand pounds!" she exclaimed. "That is a lot of money. I am rather short of cash, you must give me some."

"You had twenty pounds last month."

"And I want twenty more now."

"You cannot have it."

"Then you must take the consequences," she said.

"What shall you do?"

"Pack up my things, go down to Helton, see my father, and tell the truth," she replied.

"You dare not, no one would believe your story."

"One person would, I am certain," she answered.

"Your father?"

"Probably, but I meant your wife," said Janet.

"You dare not speak to her of such things," he said, angrily.

"And why not? She has every right to know the truth."

"If I give you the money will you hold your tongue?" he asked.

"Yes, until I require more," was her reply.

He gave her twenty pounds, thankful to be able to stave off the evil day, hoping in the meantime to find some way out of his difficulties.

CHAPTER VIII. WARREN'S RETURN.

Warren Courtly returned home during the week, and Irene was at the Manor to receive him. She did not welcome him with her usual heartiness, and he expected there was something wrong.

"You have been away a long time," she said. "I expected you home last week. Your business must have been very important."

"It was," he replied, "and I have not finished it. I shall have to go to London again soon."

"I will accompany you," she said; "I have not been to London for some time."

"As you wish. I shall be glad of your society. Have you been staying with the Squire?"

"Yes, and we have managed to pass the time pleasantly. I took him the picture of Random, and he was delighted with it; he has it in his study. We were very much surprised to see an announcement in the paper that you had sold the Holme Farm, but I suppose it is incorrect?"

"I am sorry to say it is correct. I had to sell it, Irene, I was in difficulties."

"You, in difficulties!" she exclaimed. "How is that possible, you have a large income?"

"I have been gambling, and owed more than I could pay. So I thought the best way would be to sell Holme Farm and clear them all off. I shall be more cautious next time, you may be sure."

"You might have told me how matters stood," she said, reproachfully. "And if you were compelled to sell the Farm, why did you not offer it to the Squire, he would have given you a better price than that for it?"

"I had no idea he would buy it; he is always grumbling about land, and saying it is no good investing in it."

"He said Holme Farm was worth five thousand more than you accepted for it, and I believe he would have given it."

He was angry with himself when he heard this, but he knew the real reason he had not offered it to the Squire was that he was ashamed to do so. As he looked at Irene, he recognised her beauty more clearly than he had ever done before. He felt he was dealing her blow after blow, and the worst was yet to come. It made him desperate when he thought of Janet, and the trouble she could cause. Why had he been such a fool to fall into the toils of such a minx? He hated her name, and it was sacrilege to think of her in the presence of Irene. As for Irene she was depressed and uneasy at her husband's statement. If he was compelled to sell the Holme Farm, others might follow, and the estate gradually dwindle down to small proportions. It was not a bright prospect after only eighteen months of married life. She saw he was worried and troubled, and did not look himself.

"Are you feeling unwell?" she asked.

"No, why?"

"Because you do not look in your usual health; if you have any trouble, Warren, I wish you would confide in me, and I might possibly help you. It will be far better for me to hear it from you than from any outsiders, and you know what gossips people are."

He felt a strong impulse to tell her everything even to confess his fault with Janet, and how he had allowed suspicion to rest upon Ulick, but he dare not do it. He knew she would never forgive him, although she might condone his failings. If an outsider made her acquainted with the fact it would be far worse, but he must risk that.

"I have nothing to tell you," he said. "It troubled me to have to part with the farm, but I saw no other way out of the difficulty."

"I can quite understand that," she replied. "As it was necessary for you to do it, we will say no more about it; but I expect the Squire will pull you over the coals," she added, with a smile.

Next morning a thaw set in, and the pure white landscape quickly changed to a dull, leadened colour. The melting snow dripped from the roof in a monotonous splash, the trees were wet and dismal, and the ground was a mass of sticky slush and mud. The sky was dark and lowering, and the effect depressing.

They both felt the effects of the change at breakfast time. Irene was naturally of a bright disposition, and tried to cheer her husband's drooping spirits, but with ill-success.

"Honeysuckle had a colt foal half an hour after midnight on New Year's Day," she said. "That was a slice of luck, and Eli had a very anxious time until he was born."

"What an extraordinary thing," he said. "The Squire would be pleased. What kind of a colt is he?"

"A good one I should say; we saw him the same day, and he pleased both the Squire and Eli."

"I must have a look at him," he replied; then, glancing out of the window, went on: "There is nothing more miserable than a thaw; I shall be glad when all the snow is gone, and there is a chance of hunting again."

"It will be a treat to be in the saddle after such a long spell," she replied. Then, changing the subject, she said, "I had a peculiar letter when you were away. I showed it to the Squire, and he thought it was written by a clever rogue. My impression was that the man was genuinely in want of a small loan, but how he came to write to me I do not know. Here is the letter and his reply to my note."

Warren Courtly took it carelessly, but no sooner did he see the handwriting than he hastily turned to look at the signature, and when he saw "Felix Hoffman" the letter fell upon the table and he sank back into his chair, his face white and drawn.

Irene was surprised and alarmed at the effect it produced, and said—

"What is the matter, Warren? Is it the letter causes you anxiety? Do you know the man?"

He made no answer, but took the letter and read it, wondering how it came about that Felix Hoffman should have discovered who he was and have the audacity to write to his wife. Janet must have confided in him, that was the only solution he arrived at, and he vowed she should suffer for her betrayal. These brief minutes, when his wife's eyes were upon him, noting every change and movement, were the worst he had ever spent in his life.

"Do you know the man?" she asked, again.

"Yes, I know him."

"Who is he?"

"A racecourse sharper, a scoundrel, an unprincipled blackguard," said Warren, savagely.

"Then how is it you know him?" she asked.

"We meet many undesirable people on racecourses; he is one of the most undesirable."

"But you have no necessity to associate with such men."

"They are useful sometimes; even the man Hoffman has given me good information."

"If he is such a man as you describe, I should be ashamed to be seen with him. How dare he write to me?" she said, angrily.

"It was a gross piece of impertinence," replied Warren, "for which he shall pay dearly. Leave me to deal with him, Irene."

"He ought to be thrashed," she said.

"He shall be, and he will not forget it as long as he lives. You were very foolish to send the money."

"The Squire said the letter ought to have been handed over to the police."

"It was a blessing it was not," thought Warren.

It was a rapid thaw, and at the end of the week not a vestige of snow was to be seen, except in some shaded corner where the sunlight never crept in, and where the overhanging cavern kept off the dripping water.

Warren Courtly rode over to Hazelwell, and did not receive a very hearty greeting from Redmond Maynard.

They looked at Honeysuckle's foal, and Warren pronounced it one of the best she had had. Eli Todd, he fancied, treated him in a somewhat off-hand manner. Surely he did not suspect anything, he could not unless Janet had written to him.

Everything jarred upon him, his nerves were disordered, and he felt irritable and out of sorts. He dreaded an exposure, and felt it was gradually coming. He knew what the Squire's wrath would be when he found out Ulick had been unjustly suspected, as he must do sooner or later.

"Tell him all and get rid of the burden," whispered conscience. He dare not, and yet it would have been the best way out of the sea of trouble into which he was floundering.

In the Squire's study hung the painting of Random, and he pointed it out to Warren with pride, and said—

"Irene has done it splendidly; it is lifelike. I never saw a picture of a horse more natural. You ought to be proud of your wife, she does many things, and