Can You Forgive Her?

“He was always one of them cankery chiels as never have a kindly word for man nor beast,” said the landlord. “Seems as though that raw slash in his face had gone right through into his heart.” After that George was left alone, and sat thinking whether it would not be better to ask Alice for two thousand pounds at once⁠—so as to save him from the disagreeable necessity of a second borrowing before their marriage. He was very uneasy in his mind. He had flattered himself through it all that his cousin had loved him. He had felt sure that such was the case while they were together in Switzerland. When she had determined to give up John Grey, of course he had told himself the same thing. When she had at once answered his first subsequent overture with an assent, he had of course been certain that it was so. Dark, selfish, and even dishonest as he was, he had, nevertheless, enjoyed something of a lover’s true pleasure in believing that Alice had still loved him through all their mischances. But his joy had in a moment been turned into gall during that interview in Queen Anne Street. He had read the truth at a glance. A man must be very vain, or else very little used to such matters, who at George Vavasor’s age cannot understand the feelings with which a woman receives him. When Alice contrived as she had done to escape the embrace he was so well justified in asking, he knew the whole truth. He was sore at heart, and very angry withal. He could have readily spurned her from him, and rejected her who had once rejected him. He would have done so had not his need for her money restrained him. He was not a man who could deceive himself in such matters. He knew that this was so, and he told himself that he was a rascal.

Vavasor Hall was, by the road, about five miles from Shap, and it was not altogether an easy task for Kate to get over to the village without informing her grandfather that the visit was to be made, and what was its purport. She could, indeed, walk, and the walk would not be so long as that she had taken with Alice to Swindale fell;⁠—but walking to an inn on a high road, is not the same thing as walking to a point on a hill side over a lake. Had she been dirty, draggled, and wet through on Swindale fell, it would have simply been matter for mirth; but her brother she knew would not have liked to see her enter the Lowther Arms at Shap in such a condition. It, therefore, became necessary that she should ask her grandfather to lend her the jaunting car.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked sharply. In such establishments as that at Vavasor Hall the family horse is generally used for double duties. Though he draws the lady of the house one day, he is not too proud to draw manure on the next. And it will always be found that the master of the house gives a great preference to the manure over the lady. The squire at Vavasor had come to do so to such an extent that he regarded any application for the animal’s services as an encroachment.

“Only to Shap, grandpapa.”

“To Shap! what on earth can take you to Shap? There are no shops at Shap.”

“I am not going to do shopping. I want to see someone there.”

“Whom can you want to see at Shap?”

Then it occurred to Kate on the spur of the moment that she might as well tell her grandfather the fact. “My brother has come down,” she said; “and is at the inn there. I had not intended to tell you, as I did not wish to mention his name till you had consented to receive him here.”

“And he expects to come here now;⁠—does he?” said the squire.

“Oh, no, sir. I think he has no expectation of the kind. He has come down simply to see me;⁠—about business I believe.”

“Business! what business? I suppose he wants to get your money from you?”

“I think it is with reference to his marriage. I think he wants me to use my influence with Alice that it may not be delayed.”

“Look here, Kate; if ever you lend him your money, or any of it⁠—that is, of the principal I mean⁠—I will never speak to him again under any circumstance. And more than that! Look here, Kate. In spite of all that has past and gone, the property will become his for his life when I die⁠—unless I change my will. If he gets your money from you, I will change it, and he shall not be a shilling richer at my death than he is now. You can have the horse to go to Shap.”

What unlucky chance had it been which had put this idea into the old squire’s head on this especial morning? Kate had resolved that she would entreat her brother to make use of her little fortune. She feared that he was now coming with some reference to his cousin’s money⁠—that something was to be done to enable him to avail himself of his cousin’s offer; and Kate, almost blushing in the solitude of her chamber at the thought, was determined that her brother must be saved from such temptation. She knew that money was necessary to him. She knew that he could not stand a second contest without assistance. With all their confidences, he had never told her much of his pecuniary circumstances in the world, but she was almost sure that he was a poor man. He had said as much as that to her, and in his letter desiring her to come to him at Shap, he had inserted a word or two purposely intended to prepare her mind for monetary considerations.

As she was jogged along over