by H. C. Bailey
CHAPTER XXIX
ALISON KNEELS
So all this while Alison lacked an answer to her letter. She fretted atthe delay, she grew angry soon, but it does not appear that she allowedherself any new pique against Harry. She was angry with circumstance,with herself, and something much more than angry with Mr. Waverton. Itwas detestable of Geoffrey to dare spy and plot against Harry,intolerable in him to suppose that she would favour the villainy. But shehad been a fool and worse to give him any chance of insulting her so. Andyet she might have hoped that her letter--sure, she had been humbleenough in it--that her letter would bring Harry back in a hurry. It wasmaddening that some trick of circumstance should have kept it from him orhim from her. For she had no notion that he would read the letter andtoss it aside or delay to come. There was nothing petty about Mr. Harry,no spite. Nothing of the woman in him, thank God.
What had happened that he gave her no answer? For certain the letter hadgone safely to the tavern. She could be sure of her servant. Harry wasliving at the tavern. The people there gave assurance of that. It wasstrange that he made no sign. The servant, indeed, had waited for ananswer late into the night and seen nothing of him. Perhaps he haddiscovered Geoffrey's spies and gone into hiding. It would be likeGeoffrey to devise some mighty cunning villainy and so manage it that itwas futile. Perhaps Harry really was at some secret politics, capturedagain by his father and sent off to France, or too deep in some matter ofdanger to show himself. Perhaps--perhaps a thousand things, so that shemade no doubt of Harry. He would not deny her when she came seeking him.
She had no fear either. Her nature could not imagine perils or disasters.There was too proud a force in her life for her to admit a dread of beingdefeated. Her man must live and be safe, because she needed him. Harrycould not fail her. But she was desperately impatient. She wanted himevery instant, and even more she wanted to stand before him and accuseherself, confess herself. For the truth is that Geoffrey Waverton hadprofoundly affected her. When she found Geoffrey daubing her withpatronizing congratulations, when he dared to claim her as ally in meantricks against her husband, she discovered that she must be miserably inthe wrong. Approved by Geoffrey, annexed, used by Geoffrey--faith, shemust have sunk very low before he could dare venture so with her. Shereceived illumination. She saw herself in the wrong first and last, thesole sufficient cause of their catastrophe, a petty mean creature,snarling and spiteful and passionate for trivialities--just likeGeoffrey, just such a creature as she hated most. Pride and honourinstantly demanded that she must seek Harry, indict herself and read herrecantation. She needed that, longed for it, and to satisfy herself, nothim. It is possible that she then began to love.
So monsieur must be found instantly, instantly. When she thought of allher tale of sins, she must needs think also of Mrs. Weston. Poor Westonhad enough against her too--Weston--his mother. It still seemed almostincredible that poor, grey, puritan Weston should be mother to Harry. Butif she was indeed, she might know something of him. At least, it would begood to make peace with her again; it was necessary. And so on the daythat Harry fell, Mrs. Alison marched off to the little cottage behind theHigh Street.
It was a room that opened straight from the path, and it seemed veryfull. Susan was sitting there, who was now Susan Hadley. Her fairplacidity admitted no surprise. She smiled and said, "Alison!"
Mrs. Weston stood up in a queer frozen fluster. "What do you need,ma'am?" says she.
"Oh, Weston, dear, don't take me so," Alison cried, and she edged her waybetween the little table and the stiff chairs, holding out her hands.
Mrs. Weston flushed. "Your servant, ma'am," says she with a curtsy, butshe ignored the hands.
Then Susan stood up. "I must go, I believe," she smiled, and bent tooffer one fair cheek to Mrs. Weston. The other was then given to Alison.She smiled upon them both benignly and made for the door.
"Susan! You'll dine with me to-morrow," Alison put in.
"Oh. Mr. Hadley will be at home."
"But of course you bring him."
"Thank you then." The door shut behind her, and the room was larger.
"I can't tell why you have come," says Mrs. Weston tremulously.
"To say I was wrong and I'm sorry. Oh, Weston, dear, to say I have been apeevish wicked fool."
Mrs. Weston sat down again. "Where is Harry?" she said.
"I have writ to him to beg him come back to me."
"I am asking you to come back to us."
"You--"
"Where is he?"
"Ah, you don't know then?"
"I have not seen him since he left your house."
"He has been living at a tavern in the Long Acre. I have made sure ofthat, and I wrote to him there. But he has not answered me. He does notanswer me. I can't tell if he has gone away."
"Where is his father?" Mrs. Weston asked quickly.
"His father? Colonel Boyce? Oh, Weston! Colonel Boyce is hisfather, then?"
"Did you come to pry?" Mrs. Weston flushed.
"I do not deserve that," Alison said, and then very gently, "Oh, my dear,but I have been cruel enough to you."
"It's very well," Mrs. Weston said faintly. "Where is Colonel Boyce?"
"I know nothing. Does it matter, Weston, dear? He cannot help usto Harry."
"I am afraid of him. Oh, it's all wrong maybe. I am so weak and stupid.But I am afraid what he may do with Harry."
"Indeed, I think Mr. Harry can keep his head even against Colonel Boyce,"Alison smiled.
"His head?" Mrs. Weston looked puzzled. "I don't mean that, I believe. Iam afraid he may win Harry to be like himself. He is so clever anddazzling, and he is full of wickedness. He cares for nothing but his ownwill and to have power. When I saw him so friendly with Harry I thought Ishould have died."
"My poor Weston," Alison said gently. "But I am not afraid of that. Mr.Harry won't be dazzled."
"You dazzled him."
"Oh, and am I full of wickedness too?" Alison laughed. "Dear,forgive me."
"No, but you are strong and hard as his father was."
Alison drew in her breath. "I shall teach you not to call me that,Weston," she said. "And Harry--well, Harry shall find me for him."
There was silence for a while, and Alison watched with new emotions thetired, wistful face. "Weston, dear, I want you to come back to me. I wantMr. Harry to find you with me when he comes home."
Mrs. Weston cried out, "He does not know who I am!" in anxious fear, andclutched at Alison's hand.
"No, indeed. But he loves you already, I think."
"But I do not want him to know," Mrs. Weston cried. "I--I was not marriedto Colonel Boyce."
"Weston, dear," Alison pressed the hand.
"I lived at Kingston. My father reared us strictly. He was harsh. I thinkthat was because my mother died so young. Mr. Boyce--he was a gentlemanin the Blues then, and very fine, much gayer than Harry and morehandsome. He used to ride out to Hampton Court to an old cousin of his,who had a charge at the Palace. He met me one day by the river. I don'tknow why he set himself upon me. I was never much to his taste, I think.But I thought him the most wonderful man in the world. I let him do whathe would with me. I don't blame him for that. He never promised meanything. In a while he grew tired. Then Harry came. My father could notforgive me. Afterwards they said that I had killed him. Harry was born. Ilay very ill and they believed that I should die. I never knew whether itwas my father or my brother sent for Mr. Boyce. My brother boastedafterwards that it was he made him relieve them of the baby. And I--I didnot die, you know. When I began to be well again my baby was gone. Myfather lay dying then. He would not see me. My brother was the head ofthe family, and he--I could not stay there. I tried to find Mr. Boyce,but he had left the regiment. He had gone to Holland, they said, afterthe Duke of Monmouth. I could do nothing. And my brother had told me thatMr. Boyce would soon find a way to be rid of my baby. I--I believed thathe had. I never saw Harry again till--you know. I never saw his fathertill that day at Lady Waverto
n's. He told me afterwards that they hadsaid to him I was dying, and he supposed me dead. I believe that istrue. He would not have troubled himself with the child else."
"Oh, Weston, dear," Alison murmured, and caressed her.
Mrs. Weston pushed back the hair from her wrinkled brow. "Mr. Boycepromised me that Harry need know nothing of me now. I do not know if hehas kept his word about that."
"There's nothing about Harry that is not safe with me," Alison said. "Oh,my dear, now I know where Harry has his strength from and hisgentleness."
Mrs. Weston looked at her in a puzzled fashion. "I wonder what he isdoing now?" she said wearily. "I think I have told you everything,Alison. Oh! Your father. Your father was very kind to me. When I did notknow what to do--I had no money left--they gave me five pounds--I went tohim. He used to come to my father's house, you know, when he had businessin Kingston. He used to go all over the country about his trading. Myfather said he was a godless man, but he was always kind to me. I toldhim everything. He took me into his house, and indeed I did not knowwhere to go for food. I was your mother's servant while she lived, but Ithink she doubted me. Your father never told her anything, and she--butshe let me be."
"Oh, Weston, Weston," Alison said. "And you have spent all your lifecaring for me."
"There was nothing else to do. But I was glad to do that." She lookedat the girl with strange, puzzled, wistful eyes and saw Alison's eyesfull of tears. She put out her hand shyly, awkwardly, and touchedAlison's cheek.
Alison smiled, laughed with a sob in her voice. "It is a long while sinceI cried," she said, and put her arms round Mrs. Weston and laid her headon Mrs. Weston's bosom and cried indeed.
Mrs. Weston held her close. "Alison! But this isn't like you."
"Indeed it is," Alison sobbed.
