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None knew, meanwhile, why the old man needed not to talk of Tom to his friends and neighbours; it was because he and Grace never talked of anything else. So they had lived, and so they had waited, till that week before last Christmas-day, when Mellot and Stangrave made their appearance in Whitbury, and became Mark Armsworth's guests. The week slipped on.
"I don't care," said Tom; "I have made up my mind to shoot him out of hand, and marry Marie myself. Sha'n't I now, my " and they passed on; and down to their carriage, which had been waiting for them in the road below. What Marie's answer was, or by what name Thurnall was about to address her, Stangrave did not hear: but he had heard quite enough. He rose quietly after a while, and followed them.
In ten minutes the ladies were packed into the carriage, and away, under Mellot's care. Frank watched Valencia looking back, and smiling through her tears, as they rolled through the village; and then got into his car, and rattled down the southern road to Pont Aberglaslyn, his hand still tingling with the last pressure of Valencia's. But where has Stangrave been all this while?
The next day Stangrave, Marie, and Sabina were hurrying home to England! while Tom Thurnall was hurrying to Marseilles, to vanish Eastward Ho. He has escaped once more: but his heart is hardened still. What will his fall be like?
"But," Stangrave had answered, "the glory of America is, that you cannot get the man for less than the dollar and a half; that he is too well fed, too prosperous, too well educated, to be made a slave of." "And therefore makes slaves of the niggers instead? I'll tell you what, I'm sick of that shallow fallacy the glory of America! Do you mean by America, the country, or the people?
The wreck of past earthquakes, the leavings of old floods, the washings of cold cinder heaps which are smouldering still below. Stangrave knew that well enough. He had climbed Vesuvius, Etna, Popocatepetl. He had felt many an earthquake shock; and knew how far to trust the everlasting hills.
"My dear Miss Lavington, as I have never been able to settle my own love affairs satisfactorily to myself, I do not feel at all competent to settle other people's. Good-bye! I shall be late for the steamer." And, bowing to Stangrave and Marie, he turned to go. "Sabina! Stop him!" cried she; "he is going, without even a kind word!"
I will proclaim you, wherever we meet, for what you are a mean and base intriguer; I will insult you in Kursaals, and cane you on public places; I will be Frankenstein's man to you day and night, till I have avenged the wrongs of this poor girl, the dust of whose feet you are not worthy to kiss off." Stangrave was surprised at his tone.
Mellot, this conviction has become so intense during the last week, that that I believe I should not be thrown off my balance if he entered at this moment.... I feel him so near me, sir, that that I could swear, did I not know how the weak brain imitates expected sounds, that I heard his footstep outside now." "I heard horses' footsteps," says Claude. "Ah, there comes Stangrave and our host."
"I hope you English showed more pity to your wounded friends in the Crimea," quoth Stangrave, laughing, "I wanted to stop and pick him up: but Mr. Armsworth would not hear of it."
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