"Better for me if I had; then I could chop and change from one to another as you would have me. No, mother; I dare say if I had never seen Grace I should have loved Jael. As it is, I have a great affection and respect for her, but that is all."
"And those would ripen into love if once you were married."
"They might. If it came to her flinging that great arm round my neck in kindness she once saved my life with by brute force, I suppose a man's heart could not resist her. But it will never come to that while my darling lives. She is my lover, and Jael my sister and my dear friend. God bless her, and may she be as happy as she deserves. I wish I could get a word with her, but that seems out of the question to-night. I shall slip away to bed and my own sad thoughts."
With this he retired unobserved.
In the morning he asked Jael if she would speak to him alone.
"Why not?" said she calmly.
They took a walk in the shrubbery.
"I tried hard to get a word with you yesterday, but you were so taken up with that puppy."
"He is very good company."
"I have seen the time when I was as good; but it is not so easy to chatter with a broken heart."
"That is true. Please come to the point, and tell me what you want of me now."
This was said in such a curious tone, that Henry felt quite discouraged.
He hesitated a moment and then said, "What is the matter with you?
You are a changed girl to me. There's something about you so cold and severe; it makes me fear I have worn out my friend as well as lost my love; if it is so, tell me, and I will not intrude my sorrow any more on you."
There was a noble and manly sadness in the way he said this, and Jael seemed touched a little by it.
"Mr. Henry," said she, "I'll be frank with you. I can't forgive you leaving the factory that night without saying a word to me; and if you consider what I had done before you used me so, and what I suffered in consequence of your using me so--not that you will ever know all I suffered, at least I hope not--no, I have tried to forgive you; for, if you are a sinner, you are a sufferer--but it is no use, I can't. I never shall forgive you to my dying day."
Henry Little hung his head dejectedly. "That is bad news," he faltered. "I told you why I did not bid you good-by except by letter: it was out of kindness. I have begged your pardon for it all the same. I thought you were an angel; but I see you are only a woman; you think the time to hit a man is when he is down. Well, I can but submit. Good-by. Stay one moment, let me take your hand, you won't refuse me that." She did not deign a word; he took her hand and held it. "This is the hand and arm that worked with me like a good master: this is the hand and arm that overpowered a blackguard and saved me: this is the hand and arm that saved my Grace from a prison and public shame. I must give them both one kiss, if they knock me down for it. There--there--good-by, dear Jael, good-by! I seem to be letting go the last thing I have to cling to in the deep waters of trouble."
Melted by this sad thought, he held his best friend's hand till a warm tear dropped on it. That softened her; the hand to which he owed so much closed on his and detained him.
"Stay where you are. I have told you my mind, but I shall ACT just as I used to do. I'm not proud of this spite I have taken against you, don't you fancy that. There--there, don't let us fret about what can't be helped; but just tell me what I can DO for you."
Young Little felt rather humiliated at assistance being offered on these terms. He did not disguise his mortification.
"Well," said he, rather sullenly, "beggars must not be choosers. Of course I wanted you to tell me where I am likely to find her."
"I don't know."
"But you left Hillsborough with her?"
"Yes, and went to York. But there I left her, and she told me she should travel hundreds of miles from York. I have no notion where she is."
Little sighed. "She could not trust even you."
"The fewer one trusts with a secret the better."
"Will she never return? Will she give up her father as well as me?
Did she fix no time? Did she give you no hint?"
"No, not that I remember. She said that depended on you."
"On me?"
"Yes."
Here was an enigma.
They puzzled over it a long time. At last Jael said, "She wrote a letter to you before she left: did she say nothing in that? Have you got the letter?"
"Have I got it?--the last letter my darling ever wrote to me! Do you think it ever leaves me night or day?"
He undid one of his studs, put his hand inside, and drew the letter out warm from his breast. He kissed it and gave it to Jael. She read it carefully and looked surprised. "Why, you are ****** your own difficulties. You have only got to do what you are told.
Promise not to fall foul of that Coventry, and not to tempt her again, and you will hear of her. You have her own word for it."
"But how am I to let her know I promise?"
"I don't know; how does everybody let everybody know things nowadays? They advertise."
"Of course they do--in the second column of 'The Times.'"
"You know best." Then, after a moment's reflection, "Wherever she is, she takes in the Hillsborough papers to see if there's anything about you in them."
"Oh, do you think so?"
"Think so? I am sure of it. I put myself in her place."
"Then I will advertise in 'The Times' and the Hillsborough papers."
He went into the library and wrote several advertisements. This is the one Jael preferred:
"H. L. to G. C. I see you are right. There shall be no vengeance except what the law may give me, nor will I ever renew that request which offended you so justly. I will be patient."
He had added an entreaty that she would communicate with him, but this Jael made him strike out. She thought that might make Grace suspect his sincerity. "Time enough to put that in a month hence, if you don't hear from her."
