Chapter XI.

MR. CRESSWELL came next day accordingly. I confess the very sight of him was a sort of solace to me in my perplexities; that solid steady man, with his sharp keen eyes and looks, as if he knew everything going on round about him. To be sure, being a lawyer, he must have pretended to know a great many more things than he could have any insight into. Still, when one is in great doubt, and cannot tell where to turn, the sight of one of these precise men, with a vast knowledge about other people, and no affairs of their own of any consequence, is a kind of relief to one. Such men can throw light on quantities of things quite out of their way. I could not help saying to myself, though I had snubbed Sara for saying it, that he might, perhaps, have helped to clear up this mystery. But, of course, he was always a last resort if anything more happened. They were to have dinner before they went away, and Mr. Cresswell reached the Park by noon; so there was plenty of time to tell him anything. He came into the drawing-room rubbing his hands. Sarah had just come down-stairs and taken her seat. She was looking just as she always did, no tremble in her head to speak of, her attention quite taken up with her wools, attending to what was said, but with no anxiety about it. When Mr. Cresswell came in her face changed a little; she looked as if all at once she had thought of something, and gave me a sign, which I knew meant he was to come to her. I brought him directly, not without a great deal of curiosity. It was a warm day for the season; and just immediately before the fire, where the good man had to sit to listen, was not just the most comfortable position in the world. He even contrived to make a kind of appeal to me. Couldn’t I hear what it was, and tell him afterwards? I took no notice; I confess it was rather agreeable to me than otherwise,—to set him down there to get roasted before the fire.

“I want to know what you have done about Richard Mortimer,” said Sarah in her shrill whisper; “there has been no advertisement in the Times nor the Chester papers. I hope you are not losing time; what have you done?”{153}

It struck me that Mr. Cresswell looked just a little abashed and put out by this question; but it might be the fire. He put up his hand to shelter his face, and hitched round his chair; then shrugged his shoulders a little, insinuating that she was making far too much of it. “My dear lady, advertisements are the last resort. I hope to do without any such troublesome process,” said Mr. Cresswell. “All the Mortimers in England will rouse up at the sight of an advertisement. I should prefer to take a little time. Information is always to be obtained privately when one has any clue at all.”

“Then have you obtained any private information?” said Sarah, in rather a sharp tone. She had no inclination to let him slide away till she was quite satisfied.

“Such things take their time,” said Mr. Cresswell, devoting all his attention to screening himself from the fire. “How you ladies can bear cooking yourselves up so, on this mild day, I cannot understand! I can hear you perfectly, Miss Mortimer, thank you; your voice is as distinct as it always was, though, unfortunately not the same tone. What a voice your sister used to have, to be sure!—went through people’s hearts like a bell.”

This was addressed to me, in the idea of being able to wriggle out of the conversation altogether. It is my conviction he had not taken a single step in the matter of Richard Mortimer; but if he thought he could shake off Sarah’s inquiries so, he deceived himself. She never was, all her life, to be turned from her own way.

“It is sometime now since we instructed you on this subject,” said Sarah. “If you have not made any discovery, at least you can tell us what you are doing. Milly, there, like a fool, does not care. She talks of Providence dropping us an heir at our door,—a foundling, I suppose, with its name on a paper pinned to its frock,” said Sarah, growing rather excited, and turning an angry look on me.

To my astonishment Mr. Cresswell also looked at me; his was a guilty, conscious, inquiring look. What strange creatures we all are! This shrewd lawyer, far from thinking that Sarah’s words referred to any mysterious trouble or derangement in her own mind, took them up, knowing his own thoughts, with all the quickness of guilt, to refer to Sara! He thought we had probably had a quarrel about leaving her our heiress; that I had stood up for her, and Sarah had opposed it. So he turned his eyes to me to see if I would make any private telegraphic communication to him of the state of affairs. And{154} when he found nothing but surprise in my eyes, turned back a little disappointed, but quite cool and ready to stand to his arms, though he had failed of this mark.

“The truth is, there is nothing so easy as finding an heir. I’ll ensure you to hunt him up from the backwoods, or China, or anywhere in the world. There’s a fate connected with heirs,” said Mr. Cresswell, pleasantly, “whether one wants them or not they turn up with all their certificates in their pocket-books! Ah! they’re a long-lived, sharp-sighted race; they’re sure to hear somehow when they’re wanted. Don’t be afraid—we’ll find him, sure enough. If you had made up your minds to disown him, and shut him out, he’d turn up all the same.”

“Milly,” cried Sarah suddenly, with her little shriek of passion, all so unexpected and uncalled for that I fairly jumped from the table I was standing at, and had nearly overturned her screen on the top of her, “what do you mean by that fixed look at me? How dare you look so at me? Did I speak of disowning any one? Richard Mortimer, when he’s found, shall have the park that moment, if I lived a dozen years after it. Nobody shall venture, so long as I live, to cast suspicious looks at me!”

I declare, freely, I was unconscious of looking at her as though I had been a hundred miles away at the moment! I stood perfectly still, gaping with consternation and amazement. Such an unwarranted, unexpected accusation, fairly took away my breath. Mr. Cresswell, accustomed to observe people, was startled, and woke up from those dreams of his own which clouded his eyesight in this particular case. He looked at her keenly for a moment, then, turned with a rapid question in his eyes to me; he seemed to feel in a moment there was somehow some strange new element in the matter. But, of course, I had no answer to make to him, either with voice or eyes.

“I was not looking at you at all, Sarah,” faltered I. “I was not looking at anything in particular. Nobody is going to be disowned, that I know of. Nobody is seeking our property, that I know of,” I said again involuntarily, my eye turning with a kind of stupid consciousness, the very last feeling in the world which I wished or intended to show, upon Mr. Cresswell, who was quite watching my looks to see what this little episode meant.

He coloured up in a moment. He stumbled up from his chair, looking very much confused. He dared not pretend to{155} know what I meant, nor show himself conscious, even that I had looked at him. He went across the room to the window, looked out, and came back again. It was odd to see such a man, accustomed and trained to conceal his sentiments, so betrayed into showing them. When he sat down again he turned his face to the fire, and almost his back to me. Matters had changed. It appeared I was not such a safe confidante as he had supposed.

“You shall very soon be satisfied about Mr. Richard Mortimer,” he said, looking into the fire. “Don’t be afraid; I am on the scent; you may trust it to me. But, really, I don’t wonder to see Miss Milly take it very reasonably. What do you want with heirs yet? If I had any thoughts of that kind, I should put all my powers in motion to get that little kitten of mine married. If I leave her by herself she will throw away my poor dear beautiful dividends in handfuls. But, somehow, the idea doesn’t oppress me; and, of course, I am older than any lady in existence can be supposed to be. I am——”

“Hold your tongue, Cresswell,” cried Sarah crossly. “I daresay we know what each other’s ages are. Attend to business, please. I want Richard Mortimer found, I tell you. You can tell him his cousin Sarah wants him. He will come, however far off he may be, when he hears that. You can put it in the papers, if you please.”

Saying this Sarah gave her muslin scarf a little twitch over her elbow, and held up her head with a strange little vain self-satisfied movement. Oh, how Mr. Cresswell did look at her! how he chuckled in his secret soul! From what I had seen once before I understood perfectly well what he meant. He had once taken the liberty to fall in love with Sarah Mortimer himself; and now to see the old faded beauty putting on one of her old airs, and reckoning on the fidelity of a man who, no doubt—it was to be hoped, or what was to become of our search for heirs?—had married and forgotten all about her years ago—tickled him beyond measure. He felt himself quite revenged when he saw her self-complacence. He ventured to chuckle at it secretly. I should have liked, above all things, to box his ears.

“Ah! to be sure; I’ll use all possible means immediately. It’s to be hoped he has ten children,” said Mr. Cresswell, with a very quiet private laugh. Sarah did not observe that he was laughing at her. I believe such an idea could never have entered her head. She began, with an habitual motion she{156} had got whenever she left off knitting, to rub her fingers and stoop to the fire.

“And I insist you should come and report to us what you are doing,” said Sarah; “and never mind Milly; see me. It is I who am interested. Milly, as I tell you, thinks Providence will drop her an heir at the door.”

What could she mean by these spiteful sneering suggestions? I had thought no more of heirs for many a day—never since I got involved in this bewildering business, which I could see no way through. Her sudden attack sent a little thrill of terror through me. I was casting suspicious looks at her; an heir was to be dropped at our door; somebody was plotting against her fortune and honour. Good heavens! what could it mean but one thing? Mad people are always watched, pursued, persecuted, thwarted. I was cast from one guess to another, as if from wave to wave of a sea. I came back to that idea again; and trembled in spite of myself to think of little Sara and her father leaving us, and of being left alone to watch the insane haze spreading over her mind. It was sure to spread if it was there.