Chapter 20

SARAH'S FIRST STEP TO CONQUEST.

Sarah walked swiftly along the passages, her head erect, her colour a little brighter, and her lips half-smiling instead of being curved in a contemptuous droop; and on her way she met Naomi.

'Oh miss!' cried Naomi, and then stopped short, and looked curiously at her young mistress.

'Well, Naomi, what is it? What are you looking at me like that for? Has anything more happened?' demanded Sarah.

'No, miss; thank goodness there's nothing more than you know, and that's enough, and too much. I was only thinking you look rare and beautiful this evening,' blurted out the maid.

'What nonsense, Naomi! I'm just hot and red, and you don't like pale people,' replied Sarah; but she was pleased all the same; for though she was not in the least vain of her good looks--which she would have exchanged willingly for Horatia's parentage--she liked to be admired, and she walked on, feeling very satisfied with herself.

Naomi looked after her admiringly. 'There's not a young lady can hold a candle to her in all the county. But wherever's she going? Why, that's not the way to the drawing-room; she's going to the master's room. Well, it isn't often she pays him a visit, and it mostly ends badly, if it doesn't begin so. How she comes to be his daughter I can't think; she's too good for the like of him. I'd sooner have believed she was a duke's daughter,' she soliloquised.

Meanwhile Sarah, conscious that she was doing a noble action in conquering her own feelings, walked on, as Naomi had said, to her father's special sitting-room, which he called his study, but in which his only study was how to make more money.

Sarah tapped at the door, and her father's voice growled something which she took to be an invitation to come in, so she opened the door and entered the room; but on the threshold she paused and hesitated. Her father was sitting in his big easy-chair in front of his bureau, writing. He did not look up at once, thinking it was a servant, who could wait his pleasure, and Sarah had time to notice his forbidding expression. It seemed to her that her father had never looked more unlovable, as he sat there with a scowl on his face, writing no doubt letters to the police or whatever authorities he wished to invoke aid from to punish the incendiaries; and as he wrote such a malignant and fierce expression came over his face that Sarah made a movement to retreat; but the noise she made in doing so attracted Mr Clay's attention, and, looking up sharply, he exclaimed, 'What! you, Sally?' and laid down his pen to hear what his daughter had to say to him.

'Yes, father; I came to tell you how sorry I am about all this affair to-day,' she said.

Mr Clay looked keenly and a little suspiciously at his daughter. She stood there, looking so like a culprit apologising for her misdeeds, that the thought flashed across him that perhaps she had something to be sorry for. She made no secret of her sympathy with the 'hands,' and she had not expressed sorrow or indignation at the time, so that the mill-owner may be excused if he believed for the moment that she had had something to do with the fire.

'Are you sorry?' he asked dryly. 'I thought you didn't care if I lost every penny of my money. That's what you always say. Are you sure you're not sorry that your friends are going to get into trouble, eh? I suppose you didn't know anything about it beforehand? Because, you know, I sha'n't make any exceptions. Those that burn my property shall pay for it.'

'Father,' cried Sarah indignantly, 'how can you think such a dreadful thing of me? If that's what you think, I'm sorry I came to you at all;' and she turned to go.

'Stop a minute, my lass,' said her father. 'I'd like to get to the bottom of this. Why did you come?'

'I came to tell you I am sorry for your loss,' said Sarah half-sullenly.

'You are sure you didn't come to beg these people off their punishment?' persisted Mr Clay.

'Yes, I am quite sure of that. I should never waste my time asking you to show mercy to any one,' cried Sarah, her eyes flashing.

Mark Clay looked at his daughter with an angry light in his eyes. 'I'm glad you've got so much sense, my lass,' he said coldly, and went on with his writing.

Sarah hesitated a minute. She was sorry for the words the moment they were out of her mouth. It was a miserable end to her attempt at making friends with her father; but her father's head was bent over his writing, and his face had on the stubborn look she knew so well, so she reluctantly turned away, and went back to her own room.

'He means mischief,' she said as she leant her chin on her hands. 'He's more dangerous when he is quiet like that than when he blusters.'

How long she sat Sarah did not know, until she was startled by hearing the dinner-gong clanging through the house. She gave a violent start, and looked round to see if Naomi had put out her dress for dinner, and saw, to her surprise, not only that she had not done so, but that it was the dinner-hour, so that either dinner must be late--an unheard-of thing in that house--or she had not heard the dressing-bell, and this must be the dinner-gong.

'But where is Naomi, and why was my dress not put out for me?' Sarah asked herself, and in answer to her unspoken question Naomi appeared.

'Oh Miss Sarah, I'm so sorry; I've fair forgot everything to-day, with all the upset! Oh miss, do let me dress you quick!' she cried, in great distress.

'It's the dinner-gong, then?' inquired Sarah.

'Yes, miss; there hasn't been any other. Sykes he forgot to ring the dressing-bell; the first time in his life, he says, that he ever did such a thing. The only one that's gone on the same as usual is the French _chef_, and, of course, he doesn't care a bit about us English folk. All he said when he heard about this was, "Vell, he got plenty money build more barns; but if his dinner isn't to the minute he'll swear, and so there it is, ready to dish." So pray make haste, Miss Sarah, for master's sure to be upset easy to-night,' Naomi wound up.

'Naomi, was Jane Mary in this?' inquired Sarah abruptly.

It will be noticed that they both alluded to the incendiarism as 'this.'

Naomi replied, 'I couldn't say, Miss Sarah. I couldn't say anything for certain about it, on any account.'

'You mean you won't; and that means that you don't trust me,' replied Sarah.

'No, indeed, miss; I'd trust you as soon as I would myself. But it's the real truth; I don't know anything, nor I won't know anything. And if I was you I'd do the same. It'll be the safest way and the best in this business,' Naomi told her earnestly.

Sarah sighed. 'It's going to be a bad business for those that do know anything about it,' she said.

'It would have been worse if some of them had had their way,' observed Naomi.

'Then you do know something about it?' exclaimed Sarah.

'I know what they're all talking about, but what's true and what's false I couldn't tell you.'

'Is my mother dressed for dinner?' inquired Sarah suddenly, abandoning the attempt to pump Naomi.

'No, Miss Sarah; the mistress has been lying down ever since she came in, with Miss Horatia.'

'Lying down with Horatia?' ejaculated Sarah.

'I mean lying down, with Miss Horatia sitting beside her holding her hand like a daughter,' Naomi corrected herself.

Sarah coloured violently, and Naomi wondered what made her do so. Poor Sarah was being made to feel all round what a poor sort of daughter she was, and she felt irritably that it was only since Horatia came that this fact had been obvious. But Sarah was wrong. Her attitude towards her parents had always been noticeable, and her brother and mother had constantly upbraided her with it; but it was Horatia's coming which had brought this home to her, and she did not like it.

'That will do, Naomi,' she said, giving an impatient tug to the sash that the maid was tying, and she ran lightly down the corridors and the wide marble staircase to the dining-room.

Mr and Mrs Clay and Horatia were all there, and dinner was begun; and Sarah noticed, to her annoyance, that all three were dressed in the clothes they had worn for the picnic. 'Oh, you haven't changed! I have; that's why I am late.'

'We were all too upset to think of dress; we're not like you, above caring about these things,' said her father bitterly.

'Sarah thought you wouldn't like to see 'er in 'er dusty clothes, Mark; an' I would 'ave changed too, only I was so tired I thought you'd excuse me; an' Miss 'Oratia 'ere was too kind to leave me alone, my nerves bein' upset,' put in Mrs Clay in order to shield her daughter, and really making things worse by contrasting Sarah's conduct with Horatia's.

'Yes, she's a good, kind lass, is Miss Horatia,' said Mr Clay, giving her a friendly look, as he pressed some favourite dish of his on her.

Sarah had dreaded dinner, being of the same opinion as Naomi that her father would be upset. Indeed, he had looked very much upset and ready for an explosion when she left him in his study; but it was 'Horatia again,' she said to herself, and she thought angrily that Horatia cared nothing about those poor people who had got themselves into trouble.

She was angrier still when Horatia replied, 'I'm not at all good or kind at this minute, for I should like to put all those people I saw in the park into prison.'

'You'll have your wish before long, little lass, for that's where they'll all be,' said Mr Clay.

'Oh, but I shall be very sorry if they really do go to prison. I only wished it from revenge, and, of course, that's a very wrong motive,' cried Horatia. She looked across at Sarah to help her; but Sarah would not look at her friend or join in the conversation at all.

'I don't know whether it's a wrong motive or not, but I do know that it's necessary to punish those wretches for destroying my property; and punished they will be,' Mr Clay replied.

'There wasn't many o' 'em really doin' that, Mark,' said Mrs Clay timidly.

'They were doing as bad, standing by watching the destruction; and I'll have every man of them clapped into prison,' said the millionaire.

Mrs Clay said no more, and Horatia began to chatter about other things, amusing both Mr and Mrs Clay by her shrewd remarks.

Sarah sat sullenly by, and when dinner was over she went straight up to her room instead of joining the others in the drawing-room. 'They prefer Horatia to me, so let them have her. I'm sure she's welcome to do daughter,' Sarah said to herself. Perhaps finding her place usurped awakened Sarah to the knowledge that she had a place to fill in her home, and that she was not filling it.

The next day Mr Clay went down to his mills as usual, and no word had been said about the events of the day before; but Sarah was not deceived. Her father, she was sure, was planning his revenge, and sooner or later he would, as he had said, clap his enemies into prison.

Naomi could give her no information on the subject, and Mr Howroyd refused point-blank to discuss the matter. 'You'll hear all there is to hear in time; but it may come before me to be heard, and I can't discuss it with you or any one else.'

The next morning came a very polite letter from Lady Cunningham to Mrs Clay, thanking her for all her kindness to Horatia, and begging that she might return in time to pay a visit to some relatives, who desired that she might accompany her parents, as she was a great favourite.

'I don't wonder at that, my dearie; you'd be welcome anywhere, with your bonny bright face,' said Mrs Clay.

'I sha'n't let you go unless you promise to come again soon,' said Mr Clay, with a heavy attempt at humour.

'Oh, but I am coming! I've enjoyed myself immensely,' cried Horatia willingly.--'Good-bye, Sarah. I shall be so glad to see you back at school. We shall be friends again then as we used to be, sha'n't we?'

'I don't feel as if anything were going to be as it used to be,' said Sarah; but she kissed Horatia very affectionately when they parted.

'I believe it's your doing that mamma sent for us, Nanny,' said Horatia when the two were in the train.

'And if it was, I'm not a bit ashamed of it,' said Nancy stoutly, 'for I couldn't have stayed another night there, starting and trembling at every sound, and dreaming shocking dreams of being burnt alive in my bed.'

'It's awfully selfish of us to come away and let them be burnt alive in their beds, if you think it's at all likely,' remarked Horatia.

'Then I'll have to be selfish, for I don't consider it's any part of my duty to stop and be burnt with them, which it's their own fault in a way, for they do say that Mr Clay's made himself fairly hated by his ways.'

'I don't hate him,' observed Horatia.

'No, miss, so I saw; but however you put up with him and his common ways, let alone his hasty temper, I can't make out. Well, we've seen the last of them, thank goodness! so I'll say nothing against them,' remarked Mrs Nancy with satisfaction.

'I've promised to go and stay with them again soon,' observed Horatia.

'That's if her ladyship allows it,' replied Nancy, in a tone that implied that the mistress wouldn't allow it.

Horatia only laughed. 'It will be nice to see them all again,' she said. And this time she meant her own family.