by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XII
Lady Helen swept out of the room, and Morris began to dress me.
"It's strange, her ladyship coming back," she remarked. But I was in nomood to exchange confidences with my maid. I said at once:
"I suppose Lady Helen can change her mind."
"Oh, of course, miss; but all the same it is strange. It means--yes,miss, I know what it means."
"Please, Morris, don't talk now; my head aches."
"Poor young lady!" said Morris. She gave me a significant look. "If Iwas you I'd be firm," she said. "It means courage, but you have plentyof spirit. We remark on it in the servants' hall. We say that it wouldtake a great deal to knock Miss Heather's spirit out of her."
There was no use in finding fault with Morris. I remained silent.
"Those roses are superb," she said again, as she arranged my dark bluecloth dress, and got me ready for my drive in the Park with mystepmother.
I made no response, but my heart throbbed when she mentioned the roses.I wondered if Captain Carbury were coming to dinner. I forgot altogetherthe fact that Captain Carbury and my father, for some extraordinaryreason, did not wish to meet. As I considered the possibility of theCaptain's dining with us that evening, something else happened. I beganto long inexpressibly for him. I earnestly hoped he would come, that hewould be the person allotted to take me in to dinner, that I should sitby his side, and that I should have an opportunity of scolding him--ofcourse, very gently--with regard to the roses. I made up my mind to tellhim that he was foolishly extravagant, and to implore of him not to dosuch a thing again. It would be impossible for me to be too severe whenI was wearing his roses, for I determined just when Morris was arrangingmy hat at the most becoming angle not to wear the silver thing in myhair, but a bunch of the softest roses, exactly where he would like tosee them, nestling behind my ear.
Morris was very quick in getting me into my afternoon costume, and afew minutes later my stepmother and I were bowling away in the directionof Hyde Park. There we joined a long procession of carriages and motors.It was a beautiful day, and we both looked around us, enjoying the gayand brilliant scene.
Lady Helen was dressed in her usual extravagant style, and her face wascovered with a thick veil. She managed by this means to keep allappearance of age at bay, and looked quite an elegant woman of the worldas she leaned back in her expensive motor-car with her wonderful sablesround her shoulders. By and by a look of excitement flashed from herdark eyes. She desired the chauffeur to stop. We pulled up at the kerb,and a fine, aristocratic-looking man with a slightly withered face andtired grey eyes came forward. I had met him several times at differentballs and assemblies. I liked him, and felt that there was even apossibility of our being friends. I regarded him in the light of anuncle.
"How do you do, Lord Hawtrey?" said Lady Helen.
Lord Hawtrey bowed to Lady Helen. Then he bowed to me. His tired eyeslit up with a smile, and he began to talk eagerly. While he talked helooked at me, and each moment it seemed to me that his eyes grew lesstired, and the wrinkles seemed to leave his face. He certainly had avery fatherly manner towards me, and I smiled back at him in return, andfelt very happy. I noticed on that special occasion, however, that therewas a great deal of sadness behind his outward suavity of manner. Ipitied him for this, as it was my nature to pity all creatures in theworld who were not perfectly happy.
"I am so glad you are coming to dine to-night," said Lady Helen.
So he was one of the guests! Well, that did not matter. Captain Carburymust, of course, be the other. As the motor-car started forward againLord Hawtrey gave me a long, penetrating, observant glance. It seemed tome afterwards that it was a peculiar glance.
Lady Helen was now in the highest spirits, and loud in the praises ofhis lordship.
"It is a feather in your cap, my dear," she said, "to be noticed sokindly by a man like Hawtrey. Perhaps you are unaware of the fact thathe is one of the most sought-after men in London, because he is one ofthe best catches of the season."
"What do you mean by a catch?" I asked.
"Oh, you ignorant little thing! But I suppose some people would find acharm in all that. Doubtless he does."
"Please do tell me what you mean by a good catch?" I repeated.
She laughed disagreeably.
"A good catch," she said, "is--is--well, let me think--the best fish inthe sea, the best trout in the stream, the best--the best--oh, the bestof everything; that is, if money means anything, and birth anything,and--charm anything, and the finest house in England anything. That iswhat a good catch means. Now, perhaps, you understand."
"You think, perhaps, that some girl may like to marry Lord Hawtrey?" Isaid, after a long pause.
"Some girl will," she exclaimed. "Any girl who is not previously engagedwould give her eyes for such a connection."
She looked at me intently.
"But surely," I said, "he is old enough to be a young girl's father?"
"Your childishness oppresses me," said Lady Helen. "I thought he'd be inthe Park; that is the true reason why I came out. I wanted to becertain of him to-night. I think we'll go home now. I am anxious for mytea, and the air is turning chilly."
We returned to the house. I was still feeling happy. And this, I had toown to myself, was because of Captain Carbury. I accepted the certainfact, and with a joyful beating of my heart, that he stood between meand my stepmother, that he had placed himself deliberately as a shieldbetween her and me. I remembered, too, that chivalrous, beautiful lightin his eyes when he told me that morning that he loved me. Oh, ofcourse, I would not marry for years and years, but it was nice to knowthat one like Vernon Carbury loved me.
Morris was very fidgety about my dress that evening. She was really asplendid maid, and performed her duties deftly and quietly. As a rule,she never made a fuss. She seemed to know what was the right dress forme to wear, and I put it on at her bidding. But to-night she was quiteexcited. I felt almost sure, as I glanced at her face, that she sharedmy secret, and once or twice, while I was going through the long andtedious process of the toilet, I longed to ask her if she knew thatCaptain Carbury was coming to dinner. But something kept me back fromuttering the words. I knew I should blush if I asked her that question,and then Morris would be sure. Morris was not sure yet; she could onlyguess.
By and by I was fully dressed. Had Aunt Penelope seen me, she would nothave recognised in the radiant girl to whose cheeks excitement had givena passing tinge of colour, to whose eyes excitement had lent the glowwhich comes straight from the heart, the Heather she had counselled tolive the simple life, and walk worthy of her God. Nevertheless, I saidto myself, "I should love to kiss the dear old thing to-night."
Just then Morris entered the room with a wreath of roses, which she hadskilfully twined together. These she fastened with the deftest of deftfingers across the front of my dress. She put another spray of roses onone shoulder, and a little bunch in my hair.
"Now, if I was you, miss," she said, "I wouldn't wear one jewel. Iwouldn't have the string of pearls round my neck, nor anything. I'd justwear these real roses on that silver white dress. Oh, Miss Dalrymple,you do look lovely!"
"By the way, Morris," I said, suddenly, "where are the violets we boughtto-day?"
"The violets, miss? What have they to do with your toilet?"
"I want just a very few to pin into the front of my dress," I said."Fetch me a bowl of them from my sitting-room, and be quick, Morris."
"They'll spoil the effect; it's a dreadful pity," said Morris.
"I must have them," I replied.
Morris went and fetched them. I chose a big bunch, and fastening it in aheap, pinned it next the roses at my left side. Then I picked up my fanand gloves and ran downstairs.
Lady Helen and my father were both in the big drawing-room. My father'scheeks were blazing with excitement. I had not seen his face look so redfor a long time. Lady Helen had evidently been whispering something tohim, because when I appeared they started asunder
, and looked almostguiltily one at the other. Then my father came up to me, made a low bow,and, taking my hand, raised it to his lips.
"Nonsense, Daddy!" I said. "I am not going to have you treating me inthis formal fashion," and I flung my arms round his neck and kissed himseveral times.
"For goodness' sake, Gordon, don't crush her roses!" cried Lady Helen.
We started apart, for the first visitor, Lord Hawtrey, was announced. Hewas greeted by Lady Helen and my father, and then he turned to me. Inoticed that he looked me all over, and that his eyes shone withpleasure when he observed my lovely roses. I had never felt shy withLord Hawtrey, and was not shy now.
"Do you like my roses?" I said, going to his side.
"They suit you," was his answer.
"They were sent to me by a very great friend. I am sure you cannot guesshis name," I said.
The footman flung the door open again, and a man entered who was calledSir Francis Dolby. He was a tall, very thin man. I knew him slightly. Ialso disliked him. My heart sank low, very low, within me, when heentered the room. So Captain Carbury was not dining in my stepmother'shouse that evening.
Lady Helen came and whispered something to Lord Hawtrey. The result ofthis was that he took me in to dinner. He talked charmingly during themeal. He took no notice of the fact that I was a little distraite--thatmy heart was very low within me. Whether he guessed any of my thoughtsor not I can never tell, but he certainly did his best to restore myflagging spirits. By and by, when he saw that the kindest thing was toleave me alone, he devoted himself to the rest of the party, and soonhad my father in roars of laughter over his good stories.
At last, the weary dinner came to an end. The smell of the roses was sostrong that I felt almost faint. My head was aching. What could be thematter with me? I began, however, to centre my thoughts on one brightbeacon star of hope. I should meet Captain Carbury at eleven o'clockto-morrow morning in the Park.
Lady Helen gave the signal, and we went into the drawing-room; there shesaid, eagerly:
"My child, you look pale. Are you tired?"
"No," I answered; "I am not the least tired." But then I added, ratherpetulantly, "I have too many flowers on my dress; the smell of the rosesin these hot rooms makes me almost faint. May I not take some of themoff?"
"By no means," she answered, and she stepped back a few paces and lookedat me attentively.
"Really, Heather," she said, "you are, I believe, intended byProvidence to look pale; that pallor in your cheeks, joined to thedarkness of your big eyes, gives you a wonderfully interesting, almostspiritual, look."
"If you but knew," I answered, "how very, very little I care for how Ilook!"
I said these words defiantly. I was certain she would scold me foruttering them. She paused, however, as though she were listening, thenshe said:
"In future, my dear child, you may look as you like, and act as youlike; for the present, just please me. Reward me for my good services toyou by being my good little Heather on this one evening."
I was surprised at her words, and at the sort of affectionate admirationin her manner. She made me sit next to her on the sofa.
"You are not a bit fit to go to the theatre," she said. "I shall go withFrank Dolby; nothing will induce him to miss a play."
"And father?" I remarked.
"I doubt if your father will care to go, Heather; he'll probably amusehimself in the smoking-room."
"He and Lord Hawtrey together in the smoking-room," I answered.
"I did not say that." She smiled, glanced at me, and looked away. "Lieback on the sofa and rest, dear," she said.
Voices were heard in the hall; she bustled out of the room; I wonderedat her manner. But I was really tired now--she was right about that; myhead ached; I was suffering from cruel disappointment. The day had beenmost exciting, the day had been brimful of hope, and now night broughtdisappointment. People were talking eagerly in the hall. I feltindifferent. Then there was silence. The next minute the drawing-roomdoor was opened, and my father came in.
"God bless you, my Heather!" he said. "And now, child, listen to me. Youmust do whatever you think right. Her ladyship's away, Heather, 'hey!nonny, nonny!'--her ladyship's away, and I won't be bullied about my ownlittle girl. You do just what you think right."
He knelt down as he spoke, bent over me, put his arm round my neck,pressed his lips to mine, and then hurried out of the room. I was justintending to go up to bed; I was longing for the quiet of my ownchamber; I wanted intensely to put my treasured roses into water; Iwanted to creep into bed and dream about Captain Carbury. I pined forthe shelter of my little room, for the darkness, the peace. I shouldfall asleep presently, but until then I could think and think of the manwho had said good words to me that day, of the man whom I should meetto-morrow. Of course, I would not marry him--no, not for the wide world;but I might think of him, I might--I made up my mind that I would.
The house was quite silent. I raised myself from the sofa, and walked asfar as the fireplace; I bent down over the fire, then, raising myself, Icaught my own reflection in the glass. The vision of a girl looked backat me from its mirrored depths--a girl with eyes like stars, lipsslightly parted, a radiant face. Somebody came in quickly--who was it? Iturned. Lord Hawtrey was at my side.
"I won't stay long, unless you give me leave," he said. "Lady Helenthought you would not mind seeing me, and your father is in thehouse--he is in the smoking-room; Lady Helen thinks you won't mind."
"Sit down, won't you?" I said.
"Oh, no. I cannot sit while you stand."
"But I am a young girl, and you are an old man," I said. "Do, please,sit down. You look very tired, too," I added, and I gave him anaffectionate glance, for I really quite liked him.
His face flushed uncomfortably when I called him an old man; but I couldnot by any possibility think of him in any other light.
"I cannot sit," he said. "Old or young, I must stand at the presentmoment. I thought to write to you, but her ladyship said, 'Betterspeak.' Have I your leave, Miss Grayson, to say a few words? Do yougreatly mind?"
"They call me Dalrymple here," I answered, speaking in a weary voice.
"I know that, but your real name is Grayson, and I mean to call you byit. Whatever the rest of the world may feel, I am not ashamed of yourreal name."
"Is anyone?" I asked. I was sitting on the sofa now; my cheeks wereblazing hotly, and my eyes were very bright.
"Of course not," he answered, and he fixed his tired eyes for a minuteon my face.
"My child," he said--and surely no voice in all the world could bekinder--"it is my firm intention not to allow you to be forced in anyway. I will lay a proposition before you, and you are to accept ordecline it, just exactly as you like. If you accept it, Miss--MissHeather, you will make one man almost too happy for this earth; if youdecline it, he will still love and respect you. Now, may I speak?"
He paused, and I had time to observe that he was anxious, and thatwhatever he wished to say was troubling him; also that he wanted to getit over, that he was desirous to know the worst or the best as quicklyas possible. I wondered if he was a relation of Captain Carbury's, andif he was going to speak about him; but I did not think it would be likeCaptain Carbury to put his own affairs into the hands of anyone else.Still, I had always liked Lord Hawtrey, although quite in a daughterlyfashion.
"What is it?" I said, gently. "Are you related to--to him?"
"I have hardly any relations, little Heather Grayson," was his nextremark. "I am a very lonely man."
"I did not know that rich people were ever lonely," I said.
He laughed.
"Rich people are the loneliest of all," he said.
"I cannot understand that," I answered.
"Why, you see, it is this way," he answered, bending slightly forward,and looking at me--oh! so respectfully, and with, as far as I couldguess, such a very fatherly glance; "rich people, who live on unearnedincomes, have neither to work nor to beg; they just go on day after day
,getting every single thing they wish for. Not one desire enters theirminds that they cannot satisfy. Thus, little Miss Grayson, it is the lawof life, desire itself ever gratified, fades away and is not, and thepeople I speak of are utterly miserable."
"I do not understand," I replied.
"I am rich, and yet I am one of the most lonely and, in some respects,one of the most miserable men in London."
I sprang to my feet and confronted him.
"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself," I said. "If you are rich,rich like that, think what good you ought to do with your money; thinkwhat grand use you ought to make of it; think of the people who are outof employment, and the poor young people--girls especially--who are soshamefully underpaid, and think of the hospitals that need more funds,and the big, great charities that are crying aloud for more help! If youwant to be happy, to use your money right, you ought to give to all ofthese, and you ought to learn to give with discrimination and judgment.When I lived in the country Aunt Penelope taught me a lot about theright giving of charity, so I can understand. You need not be quite sofrightfully rich if you give of your abundance to those who have muchless; and if you not only give of your money, but of yourself, of yourlife, of all, or a greater part of your time, you'll be just awfullyhappy. People who do that sort of thing invariably are. Aunt Penelopesays so, and she ought to know."
"Your Aunt Penelope must be a very wise woman. I should like to meether; and that is a most brilliant idea. I wonder if it could be carriedinto effect?"
"Surely there is nothing to prevent it."
"Then, little Heather Grayson, will you help me to carry it intoeffect?"
"I wish I could; but how can I? I am such a very young girl."
I began to find him less interesting than I had done a minute ago. Ipushed a big sofa-pillow between my back and the edge of the sofa; Ipined for eleven o'clock on the following day.
"I must make my meaning plain," he said. "I want someone just like you,young, and pure, and innocent, and, I believe, holy--to help me, tolive with me, to be my--oh! I want someone whom I could train and--whomI could love."
"A sort of companion," I said, in some amazement; "or, perhaps, you meanan adopted daughter; but then, you see, I am father's daughter, althoughhe has married Lady Helen."
"Ah, poor child!" he said. "I can quite see that you are your father'sdaughter, although he has married Lady Helen. But tell me--do you reallythink me old enough to be your father?"
"But, of course--yes, Lord Hawtrey, you are."
"Perhaps I am; on the other hand, perhaps I am not. But, after all,little Miss Heather, the question of age scarcely matters. Deep in myheart there lives eternal youth, and now and then--oh, by no meansalways--but now and then, and especially when I am with you, it comes tothe surface. Eternal youth is a beautiful thing, and when I see you,little Miss Grayson, and watch your innocent country ways, it visits me;it is like a cool, refreshing fountain, bubbling up in my heart."
"But aren't we perhaps talking fairy talk?" I said, pulling one of theroses out of its position in front of my dress and letting it fall tothe floor.
He got very red, but nevertheless he kept himself well in control.
"I want you to think it over," he said. "I know you will be unpreparedfor what I mean to say. I want you as my wife. I can give you all theoutward things that the hearts of most women desire--I can give youwealth, and beautiful dresses, and a lovely house--several lovelyhouses--to live in; and I can make the best, and the greatest, and thecleverest people your friends. I can take you far away, too, from thisflash and glitter. Little child, I can help to save you. Will you be mywife? Don't--at least to-night--say no. I promise to make you the best,the most devoted of husbands. I shall love you as I never loved woman,and you will soon get accustomed to my grey hairs, and to the fact thatI am forty years of age. Don't say no, little Heather. I have loved youwith my whole heart, from the first moment I saw you."
I knew that, in spite of myself, my eyes opened wide, so wide thatpresently they filled with tears, and the tears dropped down andsplashed on the roses which I had put on with such pride. I knew nowfrom where the flowers had come. I hated the roses; I loathed theirheavy perfume. I rose abruptly.
"Lord Hawtrey," I said, "I ought to thank you, but I am too young andconfused, and--and--oh, I must say it!--too _distressed_! You don't wantto force me to this?"
"No. You must come to me of your own free will."
"I believe you are a very good man," I said; "I am sure of it, and Ithank you very much; but you must understand that to me you seem like afather, and I can never, never think of you in any other light. You willforgive me, but I cannot say any more--I can never say any more. I dolike you, but I can never say anything more at all."
I did not touch his hand. I walked slowly towards the door; Lord Hawtreyopened 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 shutthe drawing-room door very softly.
