Kitabı oku: «Wild Heather», sayfa 8
I did not touch his hand. I walked slowly towards the door; Lord Hawtrey opened it for me; I passed out. He bent his head in acknowledgment of my "Good night," and then, as I was going upstairs, I noticed that he shut the drawing-room door very softly.
CHAPTER XIII
When Lady Helen went to the opera or the theatre, or to special balls or suppers, she invariably was late for breakfast the next morning, and on these occasions my father generally had his breakfast with her in her bedroom. Lady Helen would not put in an appearance until lunch time, and I therefore would have the morning all to myself. After that eventful day and after that almost sleepless night, I was quite certain that I should not find anyone waiting for me in the breakfast-room. To my astonishment, however, both Lady Helen and my father were there. They looked at me when I came in, my father with anxiety and affection, Lady Helen with a world of meaning in her knowing, worldly old face.
On the night before I had torn the roses with feverish haste from my dress, stuck them into a great bowl of water, and desired Morris to take them away; I said that the perfume gave me a headache, and that I did not wish to see them again. She obeyed me in some astonishment, raising her brows a trifle.
When I entered the breakfast-room this sun-shiny spring morning, I interrupted a very animated tête-à-tête between my father and his wife. I sat down quietly. Neither spoke to me beyond saying the most conventional "Good morning," and I ate in feverish haste what breakfast I required. Immediately afterwards I rushed to my room, pinned some fresh violets into my pretty morning dress, put on a shady hat, and desired Morris to accompany me to Hyde Park. Morris was quite agreeable. As we walked along I saw that she was murmuring something under her breath.
"What are you saying, Morris?" I asked, speaking with slight impatience, for my heart was beating so very fast I could scarcely control myself. "I dislike people muttering in the streets," I continued.
"I am sorry, miss," said Morris. "In future I'll keep my thoughts to myself; they are all about you. Oh, dear! I wish I had one of those Marguerite daisies; maybe I'd know the future if I could pull off the petals."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"He loves me, he don't; he'll have me, he won't; he would if he could, but he can't, so he won't," said Morris, bringing out the gibberish in a rapid tone.
I laughed. "Oh, Morris," I said, "how your thoughts do run on love and lovers! Now let's think of something else."
"There's nothing else for a young maiden to think of in the spring time," said Morris, in oracular tones.
"There is in my case," I replied. "We will buy some fresh violets to-day, for one thing."
"Shall we get them, miss, when we are going into the Park, or when we are coming out?"
"I want to sit just where I sat yesterday," I answered; "and while I am there you can buy them, as you did yesterday."
"Oh, yes, miss; I quite understand," replied Morris. Then she added: "It must be nice, very nice, to be married, and to be very rich. But it must be lovely to be married when you care for the man with all your heart, and he is poor, very poor. I'm not meaning anything special, miss, but it's the spring time, and, as the poet says, it makes my fancy 'lightly turn to thoughts of love.'"
I made no reply. I had planned my visit to the Park so that it should take place almost precisely at eleven o'clock, and when I got to the neighbourhood of the seats where Morris and I had rested yesterday, I perceived that one of them was occupied by a tall young man in a morning suit of dark grey tweed. The moment he saw me he started to his feet, and I turned quickly to Morris.
"Go, Morris," I said, "and buy violets – three shillingsworth, please, and get as many white violets as ever you can."
"And shall I meet you inside the gates, miss?" asked the discreet Morris.
"Yes," I answered; "go at once."
She turned on her heel, tripping away through the long vista of trees without once looking back. Captain Carbury came eagerly forward. He held out his strong hand, and took one of mine; he held my hand very tightly. I sat down – I felt my breath coming fast. I had thought of this hour ever since I had last parted with him, and now that it had come I found that I had not in my imagination, even for one moment, believed that it was half as good as it proved to be.
"Won't you look at me, Heather?" he said, and he bent down and tried to peep at my eyes from under my shady hat. I raised them just for a minute.
"Is it right to meet you like this?" I said.
"You need never meet me like this again," he said. "You have only to say 'Yes' to my request, and you and I together will go straight back to Hanbury Square, and I myself will ring the bell at Number 13, and we will ask for an interview with your father, and afterwards I shall be free to come to the house during the brief time we are engaged. For, oh, darling! we must be married very, very soon."
"But I never promised to marry you," I answered.
"Oh, Heather!" was his reply. He bent forward and looked into my eyes.
"I never, never did," I said, shaking my head, and trying to avoid his eyes.
"You certainly did not yesterday," was his answer then. "I don't know that I even wanted you to, but when you came to me to-day I saw 'Yes' written all over your face. You cannot deny it – you are mine, mine only; you would give up every other man in the wide world just for me."
I tried very hard to reply; I tried to tell him that he was impertinent and vain, but the words would not rise to my lips. On the contrary, I had the utmost possible difficulty in keeping myself from bursting into tears, for I knew well that I loved him, if not yesterday, most certainly to-day. There was something about him which appealed to my whole heart, to which my heart went out. Still, I sat silent, declining to speak – perfectly happy, perfectly contented, afraid to break my bliss by the uttering of a single word.
As I sat so, with my shoulder within an inch or two of his, I began to consider the violets, just as though he had given them to me. I had bought those violets yesterday, and they were full of him; I had brought some back with me to the Park to-day, but they were already slightly faded. Not that our hopes were faded – far from that – only the violets. I considered the violets – his special flowers – just as though he had plucked them and given them to me; they seemed to be mixed up with him, and I believed that all my life long I should love with a tender sort of passion the smell of violets, and hate, beyond all words, the smell of roses, and in particular of white roses.
"What are you thinking about, Heather?" he asked.
"Of you," I answered.
He glanced around him to right and left.
"There is no one looking," he said, drawing his chair two or three inches nearer; "may I – may I hold your hand?"
"I cannot help it," I replied, and I spoke in a low, uncertain manner.
He smiled, took my hand, and held it very tightly between both his own.
"You have a very little hand, Heather," was his remark, and he held it yet tighter.
"You are squeezing it," I said; "you are quite hurting me."
"That is the last thing I would do," was his reply. He loosened the pressure of his hand over mine the merest fragment. After a minute of silence, he said:
"Of course, as you allow me to hold your hand, things must be all right."
"I – I am not sure," I answered.
"But I mean that you are willing that I should arrange this thing, take all the trouble off you, you understand. You are willing, quite willing, that we shall be married as soon as ever I can arrange it?"
"But this time yesterday," I replied, "I hardly thought about you. I certainly knew that I liked you, and that you were my friend. I little guessed, however, this time yesterday, that we could ever, by any possibility, be husband and wife."
I flushed crimson as I said the words, and looked down.
"But now, Heather – now – you are willing that we should be married if I can arrange it?"
"I hardly thought of you this time yesterday," I said again.
"But since that time yesterday, Heather?"
"I have thought of no one else," I said. Then I coloured crimson, wrenched my hand away, and covered my face.
"Come," he said, rising at once; "that's all right; that's as right as anything in all the world could be. Little Heather, little darling, we were made for each other. I felt certain of it the very first day I saw you. You came into my life, and by the witchery of your fresh and beautiful character you turned the great Lady Dorothy out! Not that at any time I really cared for her, compared to you! We met, and immediately into my picture gallery you went, and into your picture gallery I went. Oh, of course, we were made for each other! Now, shall we go, or that servant of yours will be returning. We will go straight to Major Grayson and get his consent."
"But suppose he doesn't give it?" I said; and I trembled very much as this fear struck me.
"You must leave all that to me, Heather; I think I can manage. And, darling, we won't have a long engagement. We'll be married almost immediately."
"I thought people were usually engaged about two years," I said.
"But you and I will not conform to the usual standard," was his reply. "We'll be engaged, if you please, Heather, for six weeks at the longest. Oh, we've a lot to do with our beautiful lives, and we'll begin by enjoying ourselves – that, at least, is fair. We will just be married when the summer is at her glorious prime, and we'll go away and away, and be happy for evermore! That is what we'll do, dear little one. And now, let's be quick. I want to set this matter in train. I want to hurry the lagging hours; I want to claim my wife!"
Captain Carbury rose. He was a tall man, and I was, if anything, rather short for the modern girl.
"Why, Heather," he said, looking down at me, his eyes dancing with pleasure and happiness, "I didn't realise until this minute that you were only a little girl."
"Am I?" I said.
"You have a tall effect," he remarked; "but you are little – on the petite side."
"That is, compared to you," I answered.
"I am six foot one exactly," was his reply. "Heather, how dark your eyes are! and how delicate your complexion – and how very soft and beautiful is your hair! You resemble in some ways an Eastern princess, except that you have all the fire, and intelligence, and imagination of the West. You are my princess, Heather. Now, what are you going to say to me? You must flatter me, too, you know, although," he added, his voice becoming very serious, "there is no flattery in my present remarks. What are you going to say to me?" he inquired.
"You are my prince," I said, looking up at him, and then looking down at once.
"Your poor prince must have a name."
"You are my prince, Captain Carbury."
"Oh, come! What nonsense! You must say more."
"If you wish it," I answered. "You are my prince – "
"Well, go on."
"Vernon."
"There! I never knew I had so nice a name; simply because I have never heard it before from your sweet lips. Now, shall we get back to your house, otherwise her ladyship may be downstairs, and it happens to be Major Grayson whom I want to see."
We walked quickly across the Park, and met Morris with her fresh basket of violets. She walked behind, and as we crossed the streets we kept rather close to each other, for although, of course, we did not touch, even once, over and over I repeated to my own heart, "Heather, you are engaged to Vernon Carbury – Heather, some day Vernon Carbury will be your husband – Vernon Carbury, Vernon Carbury. And yet, a few days ago, you hardly knew that you cared for him; but you know it now – yes, you know it now!"
At last we reached Hanbury Square.
There is no more fashionable square in the best part of the West of London, there are no finer houses to be found anywhere.
I ran up the steps of the house, and Captain Carbury did likewise, and it was he who rang the bell.
A powdered footman opened the door, and Captain Carbury said:
"Is Major Grayson in?"
"Major Dalrymple is in, sir."
"Will you say that Captain Carbury has called to see him? Ask him if he will be good enough to give me a few moments of his time."
The man opened the door of one of the sitting-rooms, and Vernon and I went in.
"I dare not ask you to kiss me yet," he said; "but I will after – after I have seen your father."
"Please, Vernon," I said.
"What is it, my dearest darling?"
"May I come with you to father?"
"If you really wish it, of course you may; but I should prefer to be alone with him just now."
Before either of us had time to utter another word the door was opened, and Lady Helen Dalrymple and my father entered the room side by side.
Lady Helen gave a freezing bow to Captain Carbury, who was a very slight acquaintance of hers, and a more freezing stare at me; and then she said:
"Will you have the goodness to go upstairs, Heather?"
But Captain Carbury interfered.
"If you will permit me, Lady Helen, I should like Miss Heather Grayson to remain where she is."
He then approached my father, stood stock still for a minute, and then held out his hand. My father looked at him stiffly; then he spoke:
"You know who I was, you know what happened to me, and you know exactly what I am now."
"I know everything," said Captain Carbury.
"Knowing everything, you wish to shake hands with me?"
"I hope you will accept my hand," replied Captain Carbury.
My father stretched his out, and Captain Carbury wrung it.
"Well, of all the extraordinary things to happen!" began Lady Helen. She sank into a low chair, arranged herself comfortably and becomingly, and looked from father to Captain Carbury. Then again she glanced at me, and when she caught my eye she looked in the direction of the door; but I would not take her hint – at that moment I was past caring about her.
"I have come, Major Grayson," said Vernon Carbury, "to speak to you under the name by which you were known, and honoured, and deeply respected in her late Majesty's army, and I wish to say at once that it is only as Major Grayson that I can treat with you in this matter. I am anxious that you should give me for all time the hand of your only child, Heather Grayson. I wish to make her my wife. I love her beyond words, and I believe she is not indifferent to me. I do not require any money with her; I am neither rich nor poor, but I have enough to support her, and I believe I can make her happy. I shall certainly endeavour to shelter her from the evils of this wicked world. It is true that I was for a short time engaged to another lady, but that engagement is broken off, with perfect satisfaction on both sides. I now beg of you to allow me to pay my addresses to your daughter, for I love her with all my heart and soul."
"You amaze me," said my father.
"And allow me to tell you, Captain Carbury," said Lady Helen, rising from her seat, and coming forward, "that my stepdaughter Heather is not for you, for she is now the affianced wife of Lord Hawtrey of Leigh."
"'Allow me to tell you, Captain Carbury,' said LadyHelen, 'that my stepdaughter is not for you.'""That is not the case," I answered.Vernon Carbury had very bright eyes, and they flashed an angry fire; but when he turned and gave me a quick glance, and saw the fire of anger in my eyes, all indignation passed out of his. His eyes smiled."Child," said my father, coming up to me, "this is not the place for you. I must request you, Heather, to leave us for the present.""Father! oh, father!" I said.I spoke exactly as I used to do when I was a little child. I took his hand and drew him imperiously outside the door."Father," I whispered, "Lord Hawtrey did – oh, very, very kindly, too – he did ask me last night to marry him, and oh! he was most good – but, darlingest Daddy, I could not marry him, for I do not love him one bit – I mean, not that way, Daddy. Why, Daddy, he is old enough to be my father, and I only want one father, and you are he; but I do – yes, I do care for Vernon Carbury. Please, please, father, think of our great unhappiness if we are parted, and of our wonderful joy if you allow us to be engaged to each other!""I will do my utmost, my poor little one – my utmost," he answered."Gordon, we are waiting for you," said Lady Helen's hard voice, and then he wrenched my hands away from his neck, and returned to the room where Lady Helen and my lover were to fight a battle for me. Oh, if only father would be strong and take my part!I ran up to my room and flung myself on my bed. Morris knocked at the door, but I told her to go away; I did not want her then; I did not want the flowers I had bought that morning. Flowers, love, sunshine; the joys of God's earth would all be as ashes in my mouth if my hero were banished. They were discussing me downstairs; they were tearing my love from me – oh, I could not bear it! My heart began to beat so fast that I could scarcely endure the thumping sensation which was going through my body. I longed to sleep, just because in sleep I might forget; I wanted the minutes to pass quickly.Suddenly I sat up; I began listening intently. In my distant bedroom I could hear no sound of what went on in the downstairs rooms. I flew to the window and opened it. Oh, he would not go away – he would see me, whatever happened he would see me – it would be impossible for him to go away without seeing me! Yes, we were made for each other, for was I not in his secret gallery of heroes, and was not he in mine? And could any mere human creature divide us? I thought of Lady Helen, with her hard, cruel face, and of my father. Father loved me, and I told him quite distinctly what I wanted, and I believe that he understood. Had he not always loved his own little Heather? Oh, it must be all right!Just then I heard, far away, like a distant sort of echo in the house, a door bang. Once again I rushed to the window – I did not mind who saw me – I opened it wide at the top, and put my head out. Captain Carbury was walking quickly down the street. Would he, by any possibility, look back? Would that invisible link between us cause him to raise his eyes until he saw my face? Would he look back, and look up? He did neither. At the first corner he abruptly turned, and was lost to view."She has done it!" I said to myself. "Oh, how deeply I hate her! But I will never marry Lord Hawtrey, and I will marry Vernon – I will – for I love him with all my heart and soul!"The depth of my feelings, and the wildness of my anger, gave me courage. I rushed downstairs. I had the free run of every part of the house, except Lady Helen's boudoir; that door was shut. I was never expected to go in without knocking; I knocked now in frantic haste. A voice – a cold, surprised voice – said: "Who is there?"I repeated to myself the words "Who is there?" and the thought occurred to me that I should not be allowed to enter. They would shut me out, just as surely as they had torn me from the arms of the man I loved, so would they now – my father and Lady Helen – shut me from their consultations. I opened the door, therefore, and went boldly in."You can see the person who was outside the door," I said, and then I walked straight up to my father, who was lying back in a deep chair, his legs crossed one over the other, his head resting against the back of the chair; his face was perturbed, and very red, his blue eyes bright.Lady Helen, on the contrary, was standing. She had a fan in her hand, and with it she was fanning her hot face. Why were they both so hot and indignant? Why did they look for all the world as though each hated the other?"I want to know," I said, "and I will know, what you have done with Vernon Carbury."There was no response whatever to my question. It was received with deep and surprised silence by both my stepmother and my father. Then my father turned, looked at me, blinked his eyes a trifle, and, putting his hand out, drew me down to sit on the edge of his chair."If, Gordon," said my stepmother, "you mean to make a fool of yourself over that most troublesome, refractory, and good-for-nothing girl, I will leave you with her. If you listen to her sentimental and silly remarks, I can at least go and rest in my room; but clearly understand what my view of this business is.""I have not uttered a word, Helen," replied my father."Uttered!" said Lady Helen, a volume of scorn in her voice; "have not your eyes spoken, has not your hand spoken, has not your action spoken? That girl dares to come into my private room uninvited, and you encourage her.""I have come to ask about Captain Carbury," I said. "He is mine, and I want to know everything about him. Where is he – what have you done with him – have you sent him away? Why did he go away without speaking to me? I tell you he is mine. I will see him."Lady Helen suddenly changed her manner. She sank into a chair and burst out laughing."Gordon," she said, without taking the least notice of me, "may I venture to inquire the exact age of this little spitfire?""How old are you, Pussy?" inquired my father."As if that mattered!" I said. "I am a hundred years old, as far as feelings go.""But as far as the law goes," said Lady Helen, "I think, my dear, you will find that you are eighteen, and therefore a minor, and therefore unable to marry without the consent of your father and your stepmother. You will find that such is the case, Heather; you had better understand this at once.""Very well," I answered, "if that is really the law, and you won't give your consent – you, who are no relation to me at all – and if father won't give his consent, although he is a very near relation, then I shall do this: I shall wait until I am twenty-one; I know Vernon will wait, and then we will marry."Lady Helen laughed again."You poor, silly, fickle child!" she said. "Don't you know perfectly well that you will fall in and out of love perhaps twenty times between now and the day that sees you of age? And don't you know, also, that Captain Carbury will do precisely the same? Has he not himself confessed as much? He was engaged to a girl who was fifty times a better match for him than you a few weeks ago; he is tired of her now; he and she have willingly broken off the engagement. For my part, I congratulate Lady Dorothy. I would not have anything to do with that fickle sort of man, not if he were to buy me a kingdom. And, mark my words, Heather, as surely as Vernon Carbury imagines that he cares for you at this moment, so surely will he forget you and turn his butterfly thoughts to someone else, when he meets a fairer face than yours. It is perfectly safe to give you leave to wait until you are twenty-one, for long before then, whatever you may choose to do – although I expect no strength about you, nor constancy, nor any of those so-called virtues – young Carbury himself will be married.""No, no, you are not to say it!" I answered. "Father, may I speak to you by yourself? Father, darling, may I?""Your father is going out with me," said Lady Helen. "He is tired, and not very well, and I mean that we shall both motor into the country; we may be away even for to-night – there's no saying. We did not intend to tell you our position with regard to that exceedingly foolish and rash young man, until our return; but as you burst uninvited into my room, I may as well have it out, and then you will know how to act. Captain Carbury proposed for you, telling us the usual sort of nonsense that young men will speak on these occasions, and our answer to him was quite emphatic. We denied him admission to the house; we refused to entertain for a single moment the idea of your marrying him. We told him plainly that we had other views for you, and that nothing that he could say would get us to change them.""Did you tell him what those views were?" I asked."Yes," said Lady Helen, "we did. We told him that Lord Hawtrey of Leigh, one of the best matches in London at present, had honoured you with a proposal of marriage, and that you would be his wife before the year was out."I looked at Lady Helen while she was speaking; then I put my arms round my father's neck, and hid my face on his shoulder. He began to pat me with his big hand softly on my arm. He said, in a very low tone, "Hush, now, sweetheart; hush, now. Things will come right in the end."But I could not listen. Lady Helen went on talking; I did not listen to her either. I was distressed beyond measure; I was distracted at what had happened. Lady Helen got up; she spoke very quietly: "I will leave you two," she said. "Gordon, I shall expect you to be ready for our drive in half an hour's time; meanwhile, you may pet your daughter as much as you please – perhaps you can tell her one or two things which will change her opinion of me. Meanwhile, I shall go to my room and rest."She swept out of the room; I heard the rustle of her silk petticoats. When the door closed behind her I raised my tear-dimmed face: "Daddy, Daddy," I said, "she can't dispose of me like that – she can't take the man I love away, Daddy, and make me marry against my will a man I don't like! Oh, darling, it isn't possible, is it?""You shan't marry Hawtrey against your will – I promise you that," said my father."Then, Daddy, it's all right, because I refused him last night – I refused him absolutely. He will never ask me again.""I think it likely that he will ask you many times, poor child.""He mustn't – he shan't! I won't see him.""Heather, listen to me. Sit up; don't give way. It cuts me to the heart to deny you anything, and I fully believe that Carbury is all right and as straight as possible. A gallant soldier, child – yes, a gallant soldier. Mark my words, there are no men in all the world like soldiers, Heather; they are the pick of the earth – so brave, so honourable, so true. That's what Carbury is, and if he were rich and in the same position as Hawtrey, you should be his wife with all the pleasure in the world. But, Heather, my poor little girl, I can't fight against such long odds. I could once, but, child, I am a broken man, a broken man, and I can't withstand her. She has got me into a sort of trap. She pretends she's done everything in the world for me; I was mad enough – oh! I won't speak of that – I am her husband now, and I suppose most people would think that I'd done well for myself – they'd revel in the contrast between my life of late and my life now, and say 'That beggar Grayson' – but there! I won't speak of it.""Daddy – has – Lady Helen – got … I don't like to say – has she got a … I mean, Daddy, are you a little – tiny bit – you, a brave soldier – a little, tiny bit afraid of her?""Afraid!" said my father. "Poof! not a bit of it. It is she who has cause to be afraid of me. I could – and, as there is a heaven above us, I will, too – frighten her into giving me some of my own way; yes, and I will, if she doesn't act fair by you, little girl.""Father, why don't you tell me things? You are hiding something.""Yes," said my father; "I am hiding something, and you must never know – never, as long as you live.""Daddy, my heart is broken.""Poor little maid! But you will get over it. And now I have something else to say. Lady Helen is not at all bad, and you would be extremely happy as Hawtrey's wife; he's a bit old, but he's a thorough gentleman, and you'd be very rich, and Helen would deal handsomely by you – she's promised that. She's very rich, too; I wish she wasn't. There's nothing in the world more hateful than depending upon your wife's money, and that's my cursed position. But if you promised to marry Hawtrey, she'd make things a bit square for you; she's settled to do that. It's awfully kind of her; it's downright generous; it's more than most people would expect. She'd do it in her lifetime, too; she'd settle twenty thousand on you – think of that, little Heather – twenty thousand is not to be despised.""Oh, father, if it's money, I don't care a bit about it!""There she is," said my father, rising suddenly; "she is calling me. Wipe away your tears and run upstairs. To-night you must show a cheerful face – whatever happens in the future, you must be cheerful to-night. Off with you now, out of my sight. Believe me, I'd cut off my right hand to help you. Bye-bye for a bit, little sweetheart."My father left me. After a time I heard the "toot" of the motor-car as it puffed out of sight. Then I started to my feet, clasped my hands, and stood considering. There was something about me which could never stand inaction. If I were to be saved now from deadly peril, I must act. I was terribly upset; I was awfully miserable. All of a sudden I came to a resolve. I rang the bell; one of the footmen answered my summons."I want you to bring me the cards of the different people who have called here during the last fortnight," I said."Yes, miss," replied the man.He returned in a few minutes with a number of visiting cards on a salver. I sorted them out carefully, and presently came to Lord Hawtrey's. It bore the address of his club, one of the most exclusive and distinguished clubs in London, also the address of his big country seat – Leigh Castle – and in addition his town address, 24c, Green Street."Lord Hawtrey is kind; he is the only one who can save me," I said to myself. I made up my mind then and there to go and visit him.CHAPTER XIVAt that moment I had no thought of either right or wrong. I was determined to go straight forward and appeal to a very generous and chivalrous man to help me; I thought he could do it, and I believed that no one else in all the world would. I ran quickly upstairs – what a comfort it was to know that Morris was nowhere in sight, how delightful was the sensation of putting on my own hat and jacket, of tying a scarf round my neck and slipping my hands into my gloves. It was also perfectly delicious not to be obliged to look even once into the glass – little did I care at that moment how I looked!I had a small sealskin purse; I slipped the purse inside my muff and went downstairs. Soon it would be too warm to wear muffs, for the fine summer weather was fast approaching, but I was glad of mine to-day. Perhaps my sorrow had chilled me, for I felt rather cold. A taxi-cab came slowly by; I motioned to the man to stop. I got in, telling the driver to take me to 24c, Green Street, "And go as quickly as you can," I said. I was all impatience, and the possibility of Lord Hawtrey being out did not once occur to me.We got to Green Street in a very few minutes and drew up at the right number. There was "24c," painted in most distinct lettering on the highly-enamelled door. The door was enamelled a very soft shade of green, and I thought it looked remarkably well. I also remarked the flower boxes in each of the windows and how fresh and smart the flowers looked, but somehow they did not please me. I supposed that Lord Hawtrey had a passion for flowers, otherwise he would never have given me those roses. I hated the memory of those roses now; this time yesterday how passionately I had loved them, but now I hated them. I had supposed that they had come from my own true love, and they had in reality been the gift of an old man who might have been my father, for so I considered Lord Hawtrey.I stepped out of the cab, paid the driver his fare, saw him move away, and then ran up the low flight of steps and rang the bell."Is Lord Hawtrey in?" I asked of the man in livery who attended to my summons.A reply in the negative was instantly given to me."His lordship is out, miss." The man gave me a cold stare. But I was far too excited to think about his manner."Will he be in soon?" I asked. "I have come to see Lord Hawtrey on very important business.""If you will step inside, miss, I will make inquiries. May I ask if his lordship is expecting you?""No," I answered. "This is Lady Helen Dalrymple's card; I have come from her house."The man took the card and gave me a second glance, which now showed absolute respect. How magical was the effect of my stepmother's name! I wondered at it. I was glad that I had put a few of her cards in my purse.In a very few minutes the servant returned to say that his lordship would be in almost immediately, and asking me if I would wish to wait in the white boudoir.I said yes. Little did I care where I waited at that instant. The servant conducted me upstairs to a pretty room, which must have been arranged for a lady's comfort. It was furnished in white. The walls were white, so was the furniture. The only bit of colour anywhere was a very soft, very bright crimson carpet, into which one's feet sank. The effect of the crimson carpet on the white room was extremely effective. There were no pictures round the walls, but there were a great many mirrors, so that as I entered I caught the reflection of myself from many points of view. I sat down on a low chair and was glad to find that I could no longer look at my small, tired face.The minutes passed; a little clock over the mantelpiece told me the time. Five minutes went by, ten, fifteen, then there was a sound downstairs, men's voices talking together, men laughing and chatting volubly, some ladies joining in their talk. Then there was a sudden kind of hush. All the visitors entered a room a considerable way off, and a minute later there was a hurried ascending of the stairs, the door was opened with a sort of impetuosity, and Lord Hawtrey, looking slightly flushed, surprised, and not altogether pleased, entered the room."My dear Miss Dalrymple," he began, "I am amazed to see you here and – and charmed, of course – but is there anything wrong, is there anything I can do for you? What is it, my dear little girl?"Lord Hawtrey dropped his society manners on the spot. With his quick, kind eyes he read the distress on my face."I want you to help me," I said, "I want to speak to you all alone – but you have brought visitors in. May I stay here until they go?""Oh, no, that won't do at all. Of course, I should be delighted to talk to you now; let me think. My sister, Lady Mary Percy, is downstairs – I will see her. She will come and talk with you.""But it is you I want to see, Lord Hawtrey.""Leave the matter in my hands, dear child, I'll attend to everything. By the way, where is your stepmother and where is your father to-day?""They have gone in the motor-car into the country.""I will see my sister; she will be with you in a minute or two."Lord Hawtrey left the room. I felt puzzled and distressed. I wondered if I had done wrong. A very few moments passed and then the same servant who had admitted me appeared, bearing a charming little tray which held afternoon tea for two."Lady Mary Percy will be here in a moment, miss," he said, "she desires you not to wait for her."I did wait. I did not want tea, nor did I want to see Lady Mary, but in a very few minutes, true to the servant's words, she appeared. She was a very pretty woman, and looked quite young beside her brother. She had a kind, thoughtful face, a high-bred face, the face of one who had never in the whole of her life thought of anything except what was good and noble. I was certain of that the moment I saw her. I was glad now that Lord Hawtrey had asked her to come to me. In my excitement I forgot that she must think my conduct strange, and must wonder what sort of a girl I, Heather Dalrymple, was. She came up to me and held out her hand, then she looked into my face."Lord Hawtrey has begged of me to come and see you. Shall we have some tea together?"She sat down at once and poured out tea for us both. She offered me a cup, and I felt that I should be very rude if I refused it. It was with difficulty I could either eat or drink, but Lady Mary seemed to expect me to do so, and for her sake I made an effort. The tea did me good, for it was strong and fragrant, the bread and butter was delicious, it did me good also. I felt more like a child and less like an anguished, storm-tossed woman than I had done before that meal. When it came to an end Lady Mary touched a silver gong, and presently a woman, dressed beautifully all in white, and whom Lady Mary called Blanche, appeared."Take these things away, please, Blanche," she said, "and order my carriage to be at the door in half an hour.""Yes, my lady," replied Blanche.She removed the tea things, the door was shut behind her, and Lady Mary and I faced each other."Now," she said, "you had better tell me what you intended to say to my brother, Lord Hawtrey. I can see that you are in trouble, and I should very much like to help you.""Oh, but it is impossible to tell you," I replied.The colour rushed into my cheeks, then it receded, leaving them very pale. I knew they were pale, for I felt so cold.Lady Mary changed her seat. She came over, took a low chair, seated herself by my side, and stretching out her hand, clasped one of mine in hers."Dear," she said, in a gentle tone, "you are very young, are you not?""I suppose so," I answered, "but I do not feel so. I am eighteen.""Ah! But eighteen is extremely young; I know that, who am twenty-eight; my brother Hawtrey is forty.""I know," I said, "your brother is old, is he not? I thought I might come to see a kind old man. Have I done wrong?""No, child, you have not done wrong; nevertheless, you have done something that the world would not approve of. Now, I want you to come away to my house. I live in another part of London; in my house you can see my brother if you wish, but why do you not confide in me? I should like to be your friend."I looked straight up at her. After all, she was nearer to my own age. Could I not tell her? I said impulsively: "I will go away to your house with you and I will tell you there, and you can advise me what I ought really to do.""Yes, I am sure that will be much the wisest plan. And now let us talk of other matters."She began to chat in a light, winsome voice. After a time she begged of me to excuse her and went downstairs. She came back again in a few minutes."I have told my brother that you would tell me what you intended to say to him, and he is quite pleased with the idea," she said, "and my carriage is now at the door, so shall we go?""Yes," I answered.We went downstairs together. We entered a very luxurious carriage, which was drawn by a pair of spirited bay horses. In a few minutes we found ourselves in another part of fashionable London. I cannot even to this day recall the name of the street. The house was not at all unlike Lord Hawtrey's house; it was furnished with the same severity, and the same excellent taste. Lady Mary took me into a little boudoir, which was destitute of knick-knacks and bric-à-brac. But it had many flowers, and, what I greatly enjoyed, a comfortable sense of space. My hostess drew a cushioned chair forward and desired me to sit in it; I did so. Then she seated herself and took one of my hands."Your story, Miss Heather Dalrymple?" she said."I will tell you," I answered. "Perhaps you will be dreadfully angry, but I cannot help it, you must know. I am eighteen and Lord Hawtrey is forty. I think Lord Hawtrey one of the best men in all the world; he is so kind and he has such a beautiful way with him. Last night he dined at our house and afterwards he came to see me quite by myself, and he spoke as no other man ever spoke to me before, only you must understand, please, and not be angry, that I could not do what he wanted. He wanted a very young girl like me, a girl who knows nothing at all of life, to – to marry him. Do you think that was fair or right, Lady Mary Percy?"Lady Mary's brown eyes seemed to dance in her head. It was with an effort she suppressed something which might have been a smile or might have been a frown. After a minute's silence she said gently: "It altogether depends on the girl to whom such a speech is addressed.""I know that," I answered, "but this girl, the girl who is now talking to you … I cannot even try to explain to you what a simple life I have lived – just the very quietest, and with a dear, dear old lady, who is poor, and doesn't know anything about the luxuries of the rich people of London. She has brought me up, during all the years I have been with her, to think nothing whatsoever of riches; she has got that idea so firmly into my mind that I don't think it can be uprooted. So whatever happens, I am not likely to care for Lord Hawtrey because he is rich, nor to care for him because he is a nobleman or has high rank, or anything of that sort. I said to him last night: 'You don't want to force me to be your wife,' and he answered, 'You must come to me of your own free will.' Well, it is just this, Lady Mary. I can never come to him of my own free will, never, never!""He told me, child," said Lady Mary, in a quiet, low, very level sort of voice, "that he had spoken to you. I was a good deal astonished; I thought the advantages were on your side. You must forgive me; you have spoken frankly to me, it is my turn to speak frankly to you – I thought the disadvantages were on his side. A very young, innocent, ignorant girl, I did not think a suitable wife for my brother, but he assured me that he loved you, he assured me also that there was something about you which wins hearts. That being the case, I – well, I said no more. Now you speak to me as though I earnestly desired this marriage. I do not earnestly desire it – I don't wish for it at all.""Then you will prevent it? How splendid of you!" I said, and I bent forward as though I would kiss her hand.She moved slightly away from me. She was in touch with me, but not altogether in touch at that moment."I will tell you what has really happened," I said. "I must. I admire your brother beyond words, I know how tremendously he has honoured me, and I think somehow, if things were different, that I might feel tempted to – just to do what he wants. But things are so circumstanced that I cannot possibly do what Lord Hawtrey wishes, for I love another man. He is quite young, he – he and I love each other tremendously. He asked me this morning to be his wife and I accepted him. I was in the Park when I met him, and he asked me there and then. We walked home together, my maid was with us, so I suppose it was all right. This is a very queer world, where there seems no freedom for any young girl. I brought Vernon Carbury – ""Whom did you say?""Captain Carbury, I mean. I brought him into the room with my father and mother – or my stepmother – and – he told them what he wanted. They sent me away – I was rather frightened when they did that – and when they had him all alone they spoke to him and they told him that he was to go out of my life, because, Lady Mary, your brother, Lord Hawtrey, was to come in. They said that they wanted me to marry your brother, and I won't – I can't – and I much want you to help me in this matter.""Upon my word!" said Lady Mary. She rose abruptly and began to pace the room. "You are the queerest girl I ever met! There must be some queer sort of witchery about you. On a certain night you are proposed to by my brother Hawtrey, the head of our house, one of the richest men in England, and certainly one of the most nobly born. You snub him, just as though he were a nobody. On the following morning you receive a proposal from Vernon Carbury, he who was engaged to Lady Dorothy Vinguard.""Yes, but all that is at an end," I said."I know, I know. Dorothy is not a perfectly silly girl like you, and she is marrying a man older and richer and greater than Carbury. And so you have fallen in love with him? Yes, I know; those blue eyes of his would be certain to make havoc in more than one girl's heart. It is a pretty tale, upon my word it is, and out of the common. Now you have confided things to me, I don't think Hawtrey will trouble you any more; perhaps I can see to that. Would you like to go back home – and before you go, is there anything I can do for you?""No, oh, no," I said, "you have made me quite happy!""I am glad of that. You are a very strange girl; I suppose you will marry Captain Carbury some day. You are, of course, quite unaware of the fact that Hawtrey must have loved you beyond the ordinary when he made up his mind to take as a wife the daughter of Major Grayson?"I sprang to my feet."What do you mean by those words?""Don't you know, child, don't you know?""I know nothing, except that my father is the best man in all the world."Lady Mary looked at me, at first with scorn, then a strange, new, softened, pitying expression flashed over her face."You poor little girl!" she said. "Have you never suspected, have you never guessed, why he married Lady Helen Dalrymple, and why he took her name, and why – ""Don't tell me any more," I said, "please don't, I would rather not know. Good-bye – you have been kind, you have meant to be very kind, but you are hinting at something quite awful – all the same, I will find out – yes, I will find out! My father do a mean thing! Indeed, you little know him. Good-bye, Lady Mary.""Stay, child; the carriage must take you home.""No, I will walk," I said.My heart was burning within me. I really thought that I should break down, but although I heard Lady Mary ring her bell, and passed an astonished servant coming up the stairs in answer to her summons, I managed to get into the street before she could interfere. I was glad of this. I must walk, I must get away from myself, I must find out once for all what terrible thing was the matter – what secret there was in my father's life.I walked and walked, and was so absorbed in myself and my own reflections, that I was quite oblivious of the fact that people glanced at me from time to time. I had not the manner of a London girl, and did not wear the dress of the sort of girl who walks about London unattended. At last I came to a big park – I think now it must have been Regent's Park, but I am by no means sure. The trees looked cool and inviting, the grass was green, there were broad paths and, of course, there were flowers everywhere. It occurred to me then, as I entered the park and sat down on a low seat not far from the water, that I could not possibly do better in existing circumstances than go back to Aunt Penelope. If I could only see Aunt Penelope once more I should know what to do, and I should force her to tell me my father's story."It is positively wrong to keep it from me," I thought; "I cannot act in the dark, I cannot endure this suspense; whatever has happened, he is right, he is good, he is splendid and noble. Nothing would induce me to believe anything against him."I took my purse out of my pocket, and opening it, spread its contents on the palm of my hand. I had three pounds in my purse, plenty of money, therefore, to go back to the dear little village where I had been brought up.CHAPTER XVI think God gave me great courage that day, for I really acted like a girl who was accustomed to going about by herself, who knew her way about London, and who was saving with regard to money matters. I had come out of one of the richest houses in London; I had left a house where I was attended all day and practically half the night, where my slightest wish was considered, where the most beautiful clothes were given to me, and the most lovely things – that is, to all appearance – happened to me. I went out of that awful house, which I hated, which I loathed, just because it was so rich, so stifling with luxury, and felt that each minute I was becoming a woman, and that soon, very soon, I should be quite grown up.I got to Paddington Station and took the first train to Cherton. Cherton is not far from a great centre, and, as a rule, you have to change trains and get into a "local" before you can arrive at the little old-world place. I travelled third, of course, and had quite an interesting journey. My compartment was full and I enjoyed looking at my companions. They were the sort of people who do travel third – I mean they were the sort of people who have a right to travel third. A great many ladies now go third-class when they ought to go second or first, but these people had a right to their third-class compartment, and thoroughly they seemed to enjoy themselves. They brought parcels innumerable; some of them brought birds in cages. There was a small, sharp-looking boy who had a pet weasel in his pocket. The weasel thrust out his head now and then and looked at us with his cunning bright eyes, and then darted back once more into his place of shelter. The boy looked intensely happy with his weasel; in fact, the creature seemed to comprise all his world. I managed to enter into conversation with the boy, and he told me that he was going to Cherton to be apprenticed to an old uncle of his; he was to learn the boot and shoe business and was to make a good thing of it, so that he might be rich enough to help his father and mother by and by. He had nice, honest, brown eyes, and when I asked him his name he said that he was called Jack Martin, but that most of his friends called him Jack Tar. They all thought he would fail – all except Sam – but Sam prognosticated his success. I asked the boy who "Sam" was, and he answered in his simple, direct way: "Why, he's my best pal, lydy."I liked the little fellow when he answered in that fashion, and told him in a low voice that I was also going to Cherton, that I had spent many years in that little, out-of-the-world village, and that I was going to seek my aunt. He was much interested, and we became so chummy that he offered me the loan of "Frisky," as he called the weasel, for a short time, if I'd be very kind to it. I thanked him much for the honour he meant to confer on me, but explained that I was not in the habit of carrying weasels about with me, and perhaps would not understand "Frisky's" manners."He's a rare 'un for giving you a nip," said the boy in reply, "but Lor' bless yer, that don't matter. There's nothing wicious about he."The other people in the carriage were also interested in the boy, and even more so in "Frisky," who by and by extended his peregrinations from one person to another, nibbling up a few crumbs of cake, and putting away with disdain morsels of orange peel, and altogether behaving like a well-behaved weasel of independent mind. The boy said he hoped "Frisky" would be allowed to sleep in his bed at his uncle's place, and the women sympathised, the men also expressing their hearty wishes on the subject."And why not?" said one very burly-looking farmer. "I'd a whole nest of 'em once, and purtier little dears I never handled."The third-class carriage was, indeed, packed full; the endless luggage, the boxes little and big, boxes that went on the rack and boxes that would not go on the rack, but stuck out all over the narrow passage and got into everyone's way. There were shawls, and a pretty bird in a cage, and a white rabbit in another cage, and bundles innumerable. But everyone talked and laughed and became chatty and agreeable. The boy was the first to tell his story. It was a very simple one. He was poor; his father and mother had just saved up money enough to apprentice him to Uncle Ben Rogers. He was going to him; he was off his parents now, and would never trouble them again, God helping him.By and by the people in the carriage turned their attention full on me. They had confided their histories each to the other, their simple stories of love and of hate, of ill-nature and of good-nature, of stormy days of privation and full days of plenty. Now it was my turn. I was assailed by innumerable questions. "Why did I wear such smart clothes? Where did I get the feather that was in my hat? Why did I, being a lydy, travel with the likes of them?"I told these good, kind creatures that I loved to travel with them, and that I hated wealth and grand people. I said also that I was going back to a kind aunt of mine, who hated fine clothes as much as I was beginning to hate them, and that I earnestly hoped she would let me stay with her. I said that I was a very miserable girl, and then they all pitied me, and one woman said, "Poor thing, poor, pretty young thing!" and another took my hand and squeezed it, and said, "Bear up, my deary, God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." I did not exactly know what she meant, but I took comfort from her kindly words and kindly face. And so at last we got out at the big junction and then I took the little train to Cherton. One or two of my fellow-travellers, amongst others the boy with the weasel, accompanied me. He was looking a little nervous, and when I said: "I'll come and see you some day," his little woebegone face brightened up considerably, and he answered: "Don't forget, lydy, as I'm mostly known as Jack Tar, although I was never at sea in the whole course of my life; but my father makes tar, and I was christened Jack, so what could be more likely than that I should be called Jack Tar?" He then added again that his real name was Martin; but that was no use to him at all, he was always "Jack Tar," and he would not like to be anything else.I smiled at the boy and we parted the best of friends. Cherton looked perfectly lovely. It was just the crown of the year, that time in early May when, if the weather is fine, the whole world seems to put out her brightest and sweetest fragrance. The may trees were not yet in bloom, it is true, but the blackthorn was abundant, and as to the primroses and violets, they seemed to carpet the place. My heart beat faster and faster. Oh, the old streets, and the little town, and the happy, peaceful life I had led here! Would Aunt Penelope be glad to see me? Of course she would. She was not a demonstrative old woman, but she was good to me; she, of course, had been very good to me. From the time she had taken me – a tiny, motherless girl – from my father, she had done her best in her own fashion for me. After all, I had not been so long away from her, only a few months; but so much had been crowded into those months that the time seemed years.I had – I knew quite well – stepped from childhood into womanhood. My eyes had been opened to discern good from evil, but I was glad of that; I was glad, more than glad, that Cherton meant good to me, and that London meant evil. I recalled the first time I had come to Cherton and what a miserable little child I had been, and how I had rushed away, all by myself, to the railway station to meet the train by which Anastasia was to come. Things were different now. Now Cherton meant home, and I had, I will own it, almost forgotten Anastasia.At last I mounted the little hill which led to Hill View, Aunt Penelope's house. I wondered if the same Jonas would open the door for me who had parted with me with many tears on the morning when I had gone with such a light heart to join my father in London. I reached the little brown house. It looked exactly the same as ever, only that, of course, the spring flowers were coming out. There were a great many ranunculuses in the garden, and the irises were coming out of their sheaths and putting on their purple bloom, and there were heaps and heaps of tulips of different shades and colour. These were real flowers; these were the sort that I loved, the sort that Vernon Carbury would love if he saw them. These were very different from the hothouse roses and the flowers of rare beauty which decorated Lord Hawtrey's house.I walked up the path which led to the front door with the confident step of a girl who is returning home; I rang the door bell. At first there was silence, no one replied to my summons; then a head was pushed out of a door down the area, there was a muffled exclamation, and somebody came scampering up the stairs, and there – yes, there – was the old Jonas waiting for me!"Jonas," I said, "don't you know me?""Miss Heather," he answered. His face grew scarlet, and then turned very white; the next minute, forgetting altogether his position, he took both my hands and dragged me into the house."Was it in answer to the big prayer that you've come?" he said. "Speak, and speak at once. I'm a Methody, I be. I had a big prayer last night; I wrestled with the Lord for you to come back. Was it in answer to that you come?""Perhaps so, I don't know – who can tell? Oh, Jonas! is anything wrong?""Stop knocking at the door!" shouted a familiar voice, and then I gave a scream, half of pleasure, half of pain, and dashed into the parlour and went up to Polly. I could not be afraid of her any longer, and although she was not at all a friendly bird to me, and never had been during all the years I had lived with her, yet she was so far subdued at present that she allowed me to ruffle the feathers on the top of her grey head."Where's Aunt Penelope?" I said then, turning to Jonas."Upstairs in bed. The doctor he come and the doctor he goes and I do what I can, but 'tain't much. She's off her feed and she's off her luck, and she's in bed. She's got me in to tidy up this morning, she did so. She said, 'Jonas, it ain't correct, but it must be done; you bring in your broom and tea leaves and sweep up,' she said, 'and then dust,' she said, 'and I will lie buried under the clothes, so that you won't see a bit of my head. It's quite a decent thing to do when it's done like that, Jonas; and don't make any bones about it, for it's to be done.' So I done her up as best I could, and oh, my word! the room did want it badly. There now, that's her bell. Doctor says she should stay in bed and not stir, but she hears voices, and she's that mad with curiosity. Doctor thinks maybe she's going; doctor don't like her state, but I does the best I can. I'm getting her beef-tea ready for her now, Miss Heather, and maybe you'll take it up to her. It's you she's been fretting for; she's never held up her head since you went, but don't you go to suppose she spoke of you. No, she never once did. But her head – she never kept it up. Don't you fret about her, Miss Heather; you have come back, and it's in answer to prayer. Now then, come along with me into the kitchen. I'll shout at her to let her know I'm here, but I'll not mention your name. Coming, ma'am – heating up the beef-tea – coming in a twink! There, Miss Heather, she'll know now I'm coming, and you – you get along to the kitchen as fast as you can and watch me, to see as I does it right."I went with Jonas to the little old-world kitchen. He really was not a bad boy, this present Jonas, for the kitchen, seeing that its mistress was so long out of it, was fairly clean, and his attempt at making beef-tea was fairly good, after all. While Jonas was warming the beef-tea and making a tiny piece of toast, I removed my hat and jacket and smoothed my hair, and when the refreshment was ready I took it upstairs with me, up and up the narrow, short flight of creaking stairs. I passed my own tiny bedroom, and there was Aunt Penelope's room, facing the stairs. I opened the door very softly and stood for a second on the threshold."Now, what is it?" said a cantankerous voice. "Jonas, you're off your head. It's just because I admitted you to my bedroom to-day to sweep and dust. But come in, don't be shy. There is nothing against your coming into the room with an old lady. You can lay the tray on the table and walk out again without looking at me.""It isn't Jonas," I said, standing half-hidden by the door, "it's – it's – Heather. I have come back, auntie."The moment I said the words I went right in. Aunt Penelope drew herself bolt upright in bed. She did look a very withered, very ill, and very neglected old lady. Her face was hard and stern, but in her eyes that moment there burnt the light of love. Those eyes looked straight into mine.
