Out of her Sphere

Front matter

OUT OF HER SPHERE El* MRS. EILOART, AUTHOB OF "THE CITBATE'S DISCIPLINE," "JUST A WOMAN," " FEOil THISTLES — GBAPES," ETC, ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1872. [All Eights reserved.] CONTENTS OF VOL. III. CHAPTER PAGE I. IN THE FORT .1 II. BORNE BACK TO LIFE . . . .27 III. HAROLD THORNTON'S RETURN HOME . . 35 IV. A BOLD GAME PLAYED IN VAIN . .55 V. A COOL RECEPTION 68 VI. UNLUCKY AUDLEY DALE . . . .84 VII. HOW CLARE WrAITED . . . .100 VIII. WHAT CLARE WAITED FOR . . .123 IX. MISS BEATEY LAYTON TAKES THE MANAGE- MENT OF MATTERS 153 X. BEATEY LAYTON'S PROMISE . . .165 XI. CLARE IS EQUAL TO THE OCCASION . .186 XII. MR. THORNTON SPEAKS AT LAST . .198 XIII. CLARE GROWS NERVOUS .... 222 XTV. ON THE PIER 246 XV. THE BISHOP'S TROUBLES . . . .260 XVI. CHECKMATE

Chapter I. In The Fort

"I/TRS. THORNTON arrived at the Fort "^ in little over three quarters of an hour after she had left her house. She was tired with the heat of the day, and glad that she was likely to have a little time to herself before Audley Dale made his appearance. She entered the Fort, first looking round to see if he were within sight or not, but there was no one near but a shrimper going out with his nets, who stared curiously at her, with a faint, vacant wonder as to the cause that had 1 VOL. brought a lady out alone so far from the town. She went in through the old dismantled portal, and decided upon going at once up the stairs, old and crumbling as they were. The lower part of the Fort was still so wet that it afforded but an unpleasant standing for any one lightly shod. On the storey above it would at least be dry, and she might see Audley coming.

Gathering her skirts carefully round her, she prepared to mount the stairs, and did so, complaining a little to herself of the difficulty she found in the ascent. Perhaps if she had con sidered ad these disagreeables before she started, she might have found another trysting place. The chance of tearing her dress, and soding her skirts, might have kept her away from the Fort if no other consideration would have done so. But as she was there, she resolved, after her usual philosophy, to make the best of it, and accordingly ascended the stairs that wound their way through the crumb ling wads, taking care to sustain as little detriment as she could help, and at last found herself on the first floor of the Fort, and resolved that that should content her. " There's no view worth going a step further for," she said ; " indeed, I always do wonder what makes people think so much of scenery as to go through what they do for the sake of seeing it.

Now, where shad I sit down ? I think that window-seat wdl do. If only it was not so covered wdth dirt." She had taken the precaution of bring ing a spare handkerchief with her, and this she laid on what she caded a window seat. Below the narrow sht, that in former ages had served as an out-look from which to survey the coast, some of the stones had crumbled away, and thus some kind of resting place was formed in the thickness of 1—2 the wall, — not an uncomfortable one for a time, — and here Mrs. Thornton placed her self to await Audley Dale. She had her hair to arrange, which the sea breeze had slightly ruffled, and her hat to place yet more becomingly on her head ; her dress to adjust, and her gloves to draw on still more tightly, so that not the slightest crease should be visible in their surfaces.

All this took time, so that it was at least a quarter of an hour before it occurred to her that it was time Audley made his appearance, and she began to look out for him. Ten minutes more went by, and she was growing impatient. " He ought not to keep me waiting like this ; it's hardly civil," she said with a httle irritation. " If I were not so tired, I think I'd go back at once. Something may have kept him though," she added, her usual good temper asserting itself; "but this is a terribly dud place to sit in ; I wonder if people ever did live here, and if so, how they bore their lives. Good gracious ! I should think there must have been times when they envied the very limpets on the rocks !" From the window where she sat she could see the Denes stretching along in their monotony, and the low, poor land beyond, where nothing but the poorest, coarsest grass grew for mdes.

It was not easy to see persons approaching from the town, untd they were quite near the Fort, but she had expected that the sound of Audley Dale's horse's hoofs would reach her as she sat, and was surprised to hear a step below, and yet, looking down, see nothing of the horse. " I wonder where he has tethered him ; or he may have walked ; he surely never can have been so imprudent as to have brought a groom with him — but then I must have heard the horses." The step was ascending the stairs ; a slow heavy one — not at all the step of a man hurrying to keep an appointment upon which much of the happiness of his future life depends. " I do n't believe it is Aud ley," she said ; " it's too bad of him to keep me like this, and expose me to the chance of being stared at by any one who may chance to come."

She looked out of the loophole ; she was sure it was not Audley, whose step was coming every second nearer. She wrould not be seen sitting there as if she expected to meet some one, but rather as if she had ascended on account of the view ; she kept her face obstinately turned away ; she was sure the steps that were now coming nearer and nearer to her, were not Audley's ; some visitor to Wearmouth, most probably, who thought the Fort one of the local hons ; he would most likely soon go, and, if she kept her face turned from him, never be able to recognize her if he met her in the town. But what was he now standing stdl for, as if he were taking an inventory of every stone in the old wads ? She only hoped he would n't speak, but if she had to answer him, it shoidd stdl be with her face turned from him.

The man was coming nearer. Had he an especial fancy to the point of view from the loophole by which she sat ? Nearer stid — it was insufferably rude ; nearer still - — she felt him touching her. She was as brave as most women, braver than are many, but her courage failed her as she felt him grasp her arm — faded and left her utterly when she looked up and saw her husband's face ! What was it that she read there that made her ready to cry out and fling herself on the ground before him, to implore his mercy ? What was it that made even her light shallow nature quiver and tremble with a dim vague horror of some awful purpose, written in the eyes that looked so pitilessly upon her ? No — not pitdessly — at the second glance, assuredly not that ; they were eyes that spoke of judgment and of doom, but stid of love, that shuddered at the vengeance it was in its own despite compelled to inflict — eyes, that, under all their sternness, showed a world of anguish that made her feel how hopeless it would be to appeal to him for pity.

Did he not pity her, grieve over her, mourn for her ? — surely yes. There was the utter hopelessness of it — nothing that she could say, no tears or prayers, would move this man one inch from that, from which his whole nature recoiled with an unspeakable loathing. She felt that instinctively, and yet as in stinctively cried out, " Harold !" and seizing his arm, looked up in his face with a scared, frightened look, " Harold ' have you come to take me home ? I '11 go at once, only for Heaven's sake do n't look like that !" " Come with me !" was all he said in an swer, and he moved towards the top of the stairs, looking back as he went, to see that she followed him. She did so, all her usual nerve and self-possession gone, thinking that he was going to take her home, and hoping that Audley Dale would not come there before they left.

" I think he will kill him," she thought, " he looks capable of it. What has brought him here ? How did he know that I had come i The worn stone stairs were more difficult to descend than they had been to mount ; they were so slippery and broken away, that there was danger of fading at every step, and if so, steep and precipitous as the stairs were, any one who lost his footing might fall at once to the bottom. Harold Thornton went slowly down, turning every now and then, not so much to see that his wife was following, as that she was making the descent in safety. Once when she had nearly fallen, she uttered a little cry, and he looked up almost as if alarmed. " You are not hurt ?" he said, with an anxiety that contrasted strangely with the awful pur pose she had read in his eyes when she first met them ; and he half put out his hand to help, and then withdrew it.

They came to the lower room, and she looked fearfully round to see if Audley was there. The place was vacant — possibly he had seen her husband, and considered it best not to enter the Fort — she hoped so — but if Harold had seen him — if they had met ; what — what might have happened ? Her heart turned cold within her at the thought ; then she looked up at her husband, and tried to speak. He seemed to know what it was she wanted of him, and made answer, " I have not met him for whom you are concerned ; you need not have that thought to disquiet you now ; he is safe for me. Do you want to know why I sought you here — fodowed you from the home that you wdl never desecrate again?" His very lips were white, and the eyes, whose tenderness made them so doubly ter rible, were fixed on her with a look from which she shrank and would have turned away, but that it seemed impossible to withdraw herself from them.

Then she clung to him, " Harold ! Harold ! speak to me ; what dreadful thing is this that you are dreaming of ?" He laid his hand on her almost tenderly ; then he said, in a tone that was almost a whisper, and yet more audible than any words of his had ever been, " What should I be thinking of, but how to put an end to the evil that has been going on so long ? What else can 1 think of but that, when life has become impossible, the sooner death is sought the better — and, Henrietta," — and his voice now had something of the awful tenderness of his eyes, — "life has become impossible for you and me." " Oh, Harold, Harold !" and she cried and sobbed — she was not easdy moved to tears, but ad her courage had left her now. " What is it that you mean ? why should you think such dreadful things of me ?

I am innocent, I tell you, innocent ; I have never wronged you in thought or deed. Won't you believe me — Harold, dear ! come back ! come home ! You shall have no reason for complaint. Audley Dale shall never enter your house again — and yet I could swear that it was Mdly Lisdale brought him there — he never had a thought of me — or at least never any other thought than as a friend !" He looked at her with a great com passion. " Why should you say such things now ? Do you think I do not know, that when a woman has fallen as you have faden, she wdl not pause at a lie or two, or even a false oath ? How is it possible that I should believe you ? Would you not say anything to screen yourself and him V She turned angrily away, something of her usual spirit returning. " I'll waste no further words.

I'm ashamed of myself for having said so much already." . Ad the tenderness passed out of his face, and only the hard, inveterate purpose remained. " We won't speak any more of this," he said ; " it is only waste of words. Come with me now. You wanted to see this old Fort. I think I can show you a part of it such as you never dreamed of." She shrank from him. " Where are you going to take me ? I'll not move a step -whde you look at me like that." " You'll come with me " — and he placed his arm round her, and she felt herself powerless ; let him do what he would, she could not resist him. He led her towards what seemed a recess in the wall — at the first glance looking only as if it were caused by the stones having faden away — then she found herself on a stairway, rougher and more worn than that which led to the upper part of the tower, and with only such faint glimmering of light as could make its way through the aperture behind them.

What was he going to do with her ? Take her down to the dark places beneath the Fort ? — she had heard that there were such — and there destroy her. She could no longer question or plead ; she was utterly powerless in his hands ; he might take her to her doom, and she must only submit to it — what could she do else ? Down the steep stairs, where he had almost to carry her — into a darkness denser and more terrible than any she had ever known — into air that was damp and cold, as if it breathed of the grave. It was to her grave that he was carrying her ! She was so numbed, so paralyzed vrith fear, that she had almost lost the desire to escape. It seemed as if she could realize nothing but her utter helplessness and his mastery over her. Like a victim sped-bound by the eyes of a rattle-snake, or rather like that round which the cobra is twining its hideous folds — so she felt, knew, saw her danger, and felt, saw, knew nothing else.

They seemed so long descending into this awful darkness, into this chid atmosphere which froze the very soul within her — and yet it was not so long — the steps were not above a dozen that they descended — but to her mind every one seemed trebled. Should they ever come to the end ? and, if they did, what was awaiting her there ? Stid she felt his arm round her, pressing her closely, but not rudely, to him. Then they stopped at last, and he seemed to lean against the wad, and drew her yet closer to him. " We wdl wait here," he said. Wait — what did that mean ? Had he hired any one to kid her ? Was it that for which they were waiting ? Then she could almost have snnled at the fody of the thought. Such things were not done now a-days, or only in melodramas. But what was the meaning of his madness ?

That it had some awful meaning she felt sure. Presently she roused a little out of the mental torpor into which her despairing fears had sent her, and said, saintly, "Harold — Harold — what is it that we are to wait for ?" " Death," he said, quietly. " Do n't you hear it coming ?" Hear it ! Was that what he meant — the never-ending dashing of the waves outside. Was that — that how he had chosen to revenge himself for his imagined wrongs ? She remembered, dimly, now, having heard him speak of some acquaintance with the Fort — of its probable fall before long, owing to the entrance of the sea into some subterranean chamber or passage beneath it. Once, on a rare occasion, when he had given himself a few hours' holiday, he had come with Mr. Rushington to photograph the exterior of the building ; and they spoke of some discoveries they had made in the interior, and the likelihood, before long, of the waves levelling the tower to the sands.

This — this was what he had brought her there for ! Either the waves should come and destroy her before they retired back to their vast bed, or the stones of the old place would fad upon and crush her out of shape, if at last the waters were to do what had been so long expected of them ? She roused once more with the 2 VOL. intensity and imminence of her danger, tried passionately to free herself from the grasp that held her so closely, writhed, shrieked and struggled, and the one hoarse, mid cry burst from her — " Murderer !" so fiercely, that its echo sounded up the steep slimy stairs, and out into the open air, so that twro fishermen passing, busy with then nets, heard the cry, though the word was too indistinct to be understood, and, looking at each other, almost doubted whether they should leave their work and go into the Fort to see if there was any foul play going on.

But their boats were waiting for them, and they had their bread to earn ; the breeze was springing up, and it was time they put out. The cry was not repeated, so they consoled themselves with the thought that it wras only some one playing a little too rudely in the old place, and went on, trying to forget that strange, awful cry, and did forget it for a whde, tdl before long it was brought to their remem brance in such awful sort that they wished they had heeded it better at the time. The cry was not repeated, for the mouth that uttered it was closed and stopped by kisses — such passionate, despairing kisses as he had given her but last night, when she left him in all her bravery for Audley Dale. She understood the meaning of those des perate kisses now, and for a time she had no voice or strength to cry again, even when he drew his lips from hers.

" You have no right to call me that," he said. " What else was there for me ? What else have you left for me to do ? Surely death for both of us isa better thing than the dishonoured, shameful lives we were both leading." Again she twisted, and writhed, and struggled ; and again shrieked so wildly that her cries were borne into the upper air ; but this time the fishermen did not hear 2—2 them. They had gone on their way, and there were no other human beings near. There stood the Fort, making, in its ruined grimness, the desolate sands look yet more desolate, and, save the shrimper, who not an hour ago had seen Henrietta Thornton enter its walls, and who was now wading, some distance off, in the fast incoming waves, no one was in sight. No one to guess that a tragedy was going on wdthin the decaying Fort as awful as it had ever witnessed in the days of its fiercest and cruellest strength.

But the poor, desperate creature was held tightly and firmly. Clasped closer and closer, for all her struggles, to his bosom — nay, sometimes kissed again, and her face wet with tears, as he almost moaned, "What else have you left for me to do? But why did you drive me to it ?" and the waves were coming in, forcing their way over the sands, and through the crevices in the stonework. She felt them round her feet, creeping higher, wetting her garments ; and still he held her there — still he kept her waiting — waiting with him for the death that, it may be, now, he thought, would wed them anew. He would share it with her. Right or wrong he had resolved upon that. He could not go and leave her there to meet the waves, as they crept in, alone. He would stand by her to the last — if the cruel waters took him too, so much the better for them both.

Surely the Lord who had demanded the sacrifice of this gudty woman at his hands would forgive him this. More would not be asked of him than flesh and blood and the manhood in him could give ; and it would be against all his man hood, against human nature, against the strong, passionate love rolling and surging in him to leave her there — alone ! No, they would wait together. On it came— the stdl, cold death creeping around and climbing higher still. Through all the darkness it was the one palpable reality. There was no fury in its approach — it was not advancing with the roar and the spring of a wdd beast, famishing for his prey* — rather it came calmly on, its waves lapping each other as they mounted higher and higher, as if they were the tongues of tigers gloating over their coming banquet, but so sure of it that they could afford to wait and dady with the anticipation of the living feast.

It was then only a question of hours — now, but of minutes ; if the tide came calmly, it came quickly ; yet a little and it would be round her throat, forcing itself within her lips, blinding her eyes more horribly than even this darkness, and then sucking her down in its embrace, and chok ing her life away. Was there nothing to be done ? Must she stand there in that madman's grasp, and ■2:'. wait — and wait — and nothing more ? Could nothing be done ? Nothing to free herself from the horrible embrace which was holding her with such deadly purpose ? And, at the thought, a frenzied strength rose within her, and she burst from his clasp as she might have done from a child's, and rushed from him as fast as the waters — which were now up to her knees — would let her, she knew not where in that dense, terrible darkness, but anywhere to be free from him.

Was he coining after her ? She could not tell. Presently she heard his movements, as it were, in the water, now every moment coming higher. If she could only evade him long enough to grope her way to the steps down which he had brought her — only reach them before the tide submerged her ! She was afraid even to breathe, lest he should hear her — afraid to move lest her footing should fail her on the slippery stones, which were in some places more dangerous yet through the tangles of sea-weed which grew out of them. She leaned against the wall to which she had found her way, and listened intently to his movements. Presently he gave a sigh. She was so stdl that it might be he imagined she had fallen beneath the waters, or fainted. He was only within a yard . of her — he could not be more — she heard that sigh so audibly.

Then she was in doubt as to whether she should stay where she was and risk the chance of his finding her, or move away. Before she had time to decide, he turned. He was going farther away. She was saved ! Surely he would mount the stairs and find his way to hght and life. Some instinct would keep him from staying there. He would never be content to sit down and wait his death alone. Was he going towards them ? Did not that sound show that he was mounting upwards ? If so she had but to wait, and in a little time might find her way there too, and once in the upper part of the Fort, with light and air around, even if he were still within it, she would have some chance of safety. He was going ! — he was going ! If he would only move quicker. The tide was making its way fast in ; but she was sure he was ascending the stairs.

Did he hope to find her on them ? or was he only bent on his own safety ? She grew more hopeful, even though the waters were every minute becoming higher. There was a chance of life yet. An hysterical passion was almost mastering her. She could have cried and laughed by turns, had it not been that she knew that he would hear her. A chance — almost a certainty, as she heard another weary sigh, and then a movement, as if he were stdl making his way upward. She kept still and motionless ; she was sure now that that was best for her ; when presently, as if the waters would not after all be cheated of their prey, some stones which had long been crumbling into decay gave way at last, and the waves swept in with such a force that the poor, cowering creature standing there, almost afraid to breathe, lest her very life should be forfeited, was sucked underneath them as they swept in trium phantly, dashing down, in the same mo ment, the wretched man wTho stood upon the sbmy steps, which for the last moment had almost lifted him out of then clutch, and then, as if rejoicing that then two victims were at last secured, gamboding and playing and lapping more hke tiger and tigress than ever, as they mounted higher and higher yet in the tomb that held their prey, or followed closer up the steps on which they had hurled him down, the man who had so nearly eluded their embrace.

Chapter II. Borne Back To Life

A UDLEY DALE was detained on parade longer even than he had expected ; at last — at least half an hour after the time he had appointed to be at the Fort — he was able to leave the ground, and pro ceed towards the place of his appointment. It was better for him to walk there. There was no place in the vicinity of the Fort to which he could safely tether his horse, and it was not advisable to bring a servant with him. Consequently it was some time before he reached the ruin, and when there, the tide was fast coming up. " She would hardly wait for me," he thought; "it would scarcely be prudent. The old place will soon be covered below ; still she may be there ; I will go inside and look. It will be just my luck if, after all, she has gone home thoroughly angry. I wonder when I shad have the chance of giving her an explanation."

He looked around, he went up the old stone stairs, but Mrs. Thornton was not to be seen. Only, in the upper portion of the tower he caught sight of a small lace hand kerchief she sometimes wore round her neck. He picked it up : "I hope this will make my peace with her to-morrow. She has evidently been here, and gone home disgusted. Confound that old Clissold ! What on earth made him pitch upon to-day for a parade ?" Down he went, out of humour with him self and everything beside. The damp, slippery stairs were so many sources of BORNE BACK TO LIFE. 29 annoyance to him. He almost sprained his ancle in coming down, and his undress uniform bore marks of the stones against which it had come in contact. " I hope the next appointment Mrs. Thornton makes, she'll choose a pleasanter meeting place," was his thought.

He was un grateful enough just then to be angry even with her, and he left the Fort in a frame of mind that showed itself sufficiently in his face. He was every way vexed, grieved more than he liked to own, at not having recovered his letters, and angry with Mrs. Thornton because he felt that she would consider she had some right to be angry with him. He passed the shrimper who had seen her go into the Fort, and who was now returning homeward with his nets full of his small victims, without answering the man's civd " good-day," and passed hastdy on, leaving the other looking wonderingly after him. " I wonder if he went in thar to meet his lady, an' if she ha' given him the shp. I saw her go in, an' I suppose she hev cum out without my lookin'. 'Twar the pas sun's wife of St. Hdder, I reckon, an' if so, thar's some queer game or other goin' on, which the passun would n't like to hear of, I should say."