by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XIV
ANXIETY
After he had left me, and I was quite certain that I should not seehim again that night, I went straight to Jane Mullins' room. Jane wasgenerally up the last in the house, and I had not the slightest doubtI should still find her in her dinner dress, and ready forconversation. I had bidden mother good night long ago, and hoped shewas sound asleep, but I did not mind disturbing Jane. I opened thedoor now and went in. As I expected, Jane was up; she was seated bythe fire, she was looking into its depths, and did not turn round atonce when I entered. The first thing she did when she became aware ofthe fact that there was some one else in the room besides herself, wasto sigh somewhat deeply. Then she said in a low voice--
"What if it all turns out a mistake?" and then she jumped to her feetand confronted me. "Yes, dear, yes," she said. "Oh, my dear Westenra,why aren't you in bed? It is very bad indeed for young people to be upso late. You will get quite worn and wrinkled. Let me tell you, mylove, that we can never get youth back again, and we ought to prize itwhile we have it. How old are you, Westenra, my love?"
"I shall be twenty-two my next birthday," was my answer.
"Ah, yes, yes, quite young, in the beautiful prime of youth.Nevertheless, the bloom can be rubbed off, and then--well, it nevercomes back, dear. But go to bed, Westenra, don't stay up botheringyour head. I see by that frown between your brows that you are goingto say something which I would rather not listen to. Don't tell meto-night, Westenra, love."
"I must tell you," I answered. "I have come to see you for thepurpose. You are old enough, Jane, to bear the little disagreeablethings I tell you now and then. You are our mainstay, our prop, inthis establishment. I cannot go on without confiding in you, and youmust listen to me."
"Well, child, sit down, here is a comfortable chair." Jane got up andoffered me her own chair. I did not take it.
"What nonsense," I said, "sit down again. Here, this little hassock atyour feet will suit me far better."
I seated myself as I spoke, and laid my hand across Jane's knee.
"Now, that is cosy," I said. She touched my arm as though she loved totouch it, and then she laid her firm, weather-beaten hand on myshoulder, and then, as if impelled by an unwonted impulse, she bentforward and kissed me on my cheek.
"You are a very nice girl. Since I knew you life has been farpleasanter to me," said Jane Mullins. "I thank you for giving me a bitof love. Whatever happens I want you to remember that."
"I do," I answered; "you have very little idea how much I care foryou, Jane, and how immensely I respect you. There are, I think, veryfew women who would have acted as you have done. I am fully convincedthere is a mystery in all your actions which has not yet beenexplained to me, but I have not come here to-night to talk about that.I have come here to ask you one or two questions, and to tell you oneor two things, and my first question is this--Why were you sighingwhen I came in, and why did you murmur to yourself, 'What if it allturns out a mistake?' Will you explain those words, Jane."
"No," replied Jane stoutly, "for you were eavesdropping when you heardthem, and there is no reason why I should explain what you had noright to listen to."
"Thank you; you have answered me very sensibly, and I won't sayanother word on the subject of your sigh and your remarkable speech.But now to turn to the matter which has brought me to your room solate in the evening."
"Well, dear, it is past midnight, and you know how early I am up. Itis a little unreasonable of you; what has brought you, darling?"
"Mr. Fanning has brought me."
"Oh dear, oh dear, that tiresome man again," said Miss Mullins.
"You don't like him yourself, do you, Jane?"
"It is a great pity he is not different," said Jane, "for he isextremely well off."
"O Jane! pray don't talk nonsense. Do you suppose that a person withthe name of Fanning could have any interest whatever for me? Now,please, get that silly idea out of your head once for all."
"Oh, as far as any use that there is in it, I have long ago got it outof my head," replied Jane; "but the thing to be considered is this,that he has not got it out of his head--nor has his mother--and thatbetween them they can make things intensely disagreeable. Now, if Mr.Randolph was going to stay here, I should not have an anxious moment."
"What do you mean?" I cried; "is Mr. Randolph going away?" A deepdepression seemed suddenly to come over me; I could not quite accountfor it.
"He is, dear; and it is because he must be absent for two or threemonths that I am really anxious. He will come back again; but suddenand important news obliges him to go to Australia. He is going in afortnight, and it is that that frets him. You will be left to thetender mercies of Mr. Fanning and Mrs. Fanning, and you have got somuch spirit you are sure to offend them both mortally, and then theywill leave, and--oh dear, I do think that things are dark. My dearWestenra, I often wonder if we shall pull through after all."
"That is what I want to speak to you about," I answered. "Mr. Fanningcame into the drawing-room just now, and was very rude and very unlikea gentleman. I was alone there, and he said he had something to say tome in private, and, of course, I refused to listen. He wanted toinsist on my granting him an interview, and said that he could compelme to listen if he chose. Think of any gentleman speaking like that!"
"They don't mind what they say, nor what they do, when they're inlove," muttered Jane.
"I won't allow you to say that," I answered, springing to my feet;"the man is intolerable. Jane, he must go; there is no help for it."
"He must stay, dear, and I cannot disclose all my reasons now."
I stood clasping and unclasping my hands, and staring at Jane.
"You knew beforehand, did you not, Westenra, that there would bedisagreeables connected with this scheme?"
"Of course I knew it; but I never did think that the disagreeableswould resolve themselves into Mr. Fanning."
"We never know beforehand where the shoe is going to pinch," remarkedJane in a sententious voice.
"Well, I have something else to say," I continued. "Mr. Fanning wasnot only very unpleasant to me, but he told me something which I canscarcely believe. He said that our boarding-house, which seemed to begoing so well, was not going well at all. He said there was only oneword to spell how it was going, and that word was RUIN. O Jane! itcan't be true?"
"Let us hope not," said Jane, but she turned very white. "I will tellyou one thing, Westenra," she continued. "If you don't want to haveutter ruin you must go on behaving as nicely as ever you can, bearingwith every one, being gentle and considerate, and trying to make everyone happy. And in especial, you must bear with Mr. Fanning and withMrs. Fanning; you must be particularly civil to them both, for if theygo others will go; and whatever happens, Westenra, remember yourmother is not to be worried. I know what I am saying, your mother isnot to be worried. Your mother must never guess that things are not asright as they should be. When Mr. Randolph comes back everything willbe right, but during his absence we will have to go through rather atight place; and Albert Fanning is the sort of person who might takeadvantage of us, and what you must do, my dear girl, is to beguileful."
"Guileful!" I cried; "never."
"But you must, my love, you must be guileful and wary; you need notgive him a single straw to go upon, but at the same time you must becivil. There now, that is all I can tell you for the present. Go tobed, child, for I have to do the daily accounts, and must be up at sixin the morning. It's that new cook, she frets me more than I can say,she don't do things proper; and I noticed that Mrs. Fanning sniffed ather soup instead of eating it this evening, and the turbot was not asfresh as it ought to be. Go to bed, Westenra, go to bed."
I left the room. There was no use in staying any longer with Jane. Shecertainly had not reassured me. She seemed puzzled and anxious aboutthe establishment; and why were not things going well? And what hadMr. Fanning to do with it; and why, why was Mr. Randolph going away?
The next morning after breakfast
I went into the drawing-room for myusual task of dusting and arranging the furniture and refilling thevases with fresh flowers, when Mr. Randolph suddenly came in.
"It will be best for you and Mrs. Wickham to meet me at the Criterionto-night," he said. "As you won't give me the opportunity of offeringyou dinner at the Cecil, that seems the next best thing to do. I havegot a box in a good part of the house, so we need not be there morethan a few minutes before it commences. I shall meet you at theentrance and conduct you to your seats."
His manner showed some excitement, quite out of keeping with hisordinary demeanour, and I noticed that he scarcely glanced at me. Hisface was somewhat worn, too, in expression, and although he generallyhad himself in complete control, he now looked nearly as anxious andworried as Jane herself. He scarcely waited for my compliance with thearrangement he had proposed, but glancing at the door, spokeabruptly--
"Something unexpected and very grievous has occurred, and I am obligedto leave England by the _Smyrna_, which sails on Saturday week."
"Miss Mullins told me last night that you were going away," I replied.I also now avoided looking at him. I was playing with some largesprays of mimosa which had been sent in from the market. To my dyingday I shall never forget how that mimosa seemed to slip about, andwould not get into the best position in the vase in which I wasplacing it.
"Effective," he said, as he watched my movements, "but it withersquickly; it wants its native air."
"I suppose so," I answered.
"Have you ever seen it growing?"
"No; I have never been to the South."
"You have a good deal to see. I hope some day----" He broke off.
"Where are you going when you do go away?" I asked.
"To Sydney first, perhaps to Melbourne."
"It will be nice for you to leave England during our unpleasant winterweather."
"There is nothing nice about my visit," he said; "I dislike going morethan I have any words to express. In particular, I am sorry to leaveyour mother; but before I go I want"--he dropped his voice and came astep nearer.
"What?" I asked.
"I am anxious that your mother should see a doctor--a specialist, Imean. I am not satisfied with her condition."
"But mother is really quite well," I said impulsively. "You have notknown her long, Mr. Randolph; she never was really strong. She isquite as well as she ever was."
"A specialist could assure us on that point, could he not?" was hisreply. "I want Dr. Reade to give me a diagnosis of her case."
"Dr. Reade," I cried.
"Yes; I should like her to see him between now and the day when I mustleave England. I cannot possibly be back under from four to fivemonths, and if my mind can be relieved of a very pressing anxiety, youwould not deny me the satisfaction, would you?"
"But why should your mind be anxious?" I asked boldly. I looked fullinto his face as I spoke, and then I met a look which caused me toturn faint, and yet to feel happy, as I had never felt happy before.I lowered my eyes and looked out of the window. He gave a quick sigh,and then said suddenly--
"How like your father you are."
"My father? But you never knew him."
"I never knew him, but I have often looked at his picture. Can youtell me how he won his V.C.?"
"Saving a comrade, bringing one of his brother officers out of thethick of the fight; he received his own fatal wound in doing so. Hedid not survive the action two months."
"A fine fellow! A splendid action," said Mr. Randolph, enthusiasm inhis voice. "You will think over what I have said, and I will not keepyou now. We shall meet at the Criterion this evening. Good-bye for thepresent."
