The Red Derelict

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  "A CALMOUR AT HILVERSEA."

  Wagram's private study, or "den," where he was wont to do all hisbusiness thinking and writing, and which was absolutely sacred tohimself and his papers and general litter, was a snug room overlookingthe drive; and thence, as he sat with his after-breakfast pipe in hismouth and some business papers relating to the estate before him on themorning following the incidents just recorded, he was--well, notaltogether surprised at seeing a girl on a bicycle skimming up to thefront door.

  "Poor child!" he said to himself. "She looks positively radiant. Iused to think, in those awful days, if I were in the position I am innow--by the grace of God--what a great deal I could do for others, andyet, and yet, it's little enough one seems to be able to do."

  He need not have disparaged himself. There were not a few, among themsome who had shown him kindness in "those awful days," who now hadreason to bless his name as long as they lived, and their children'schildren after them.

  "Come in. Yes; I'll be down in a minute or two," he said in response tothe announcement that Miss Calmour had called on a matter of business,and very much wished to see him. He smiled to himself as he rememberedthe occasion of her last call--also "on a matter of business." Then hemade a note as to where to resume the work in which he had beeninterrupted, laid down his pipe, and went downstairs.

  "And now," he said merrily when they had shaken hands, "what is this`matter of business'?"

  Delia was looking radiant, and, consequently, very pretty. She had thatdark warmth of complexion which suffuses, and her hazel eyes were softand velvety.

  "This will explain," she said, holding out the editor's letter; "and, MrWagram, it would be affectation for me to pretend that I did not knowwhom I had to thank for it."

  "Of course. As far as I can see it is the editor of _The Old CountrySide_. But editors don't want thanking; they are hard, cold-blooded menof business, as I have had ample reason to discover in my old strugglingdays."

  She made no comment on this last remark. She had heard that this man'slife had not been always a bed of roses.

  "Yet, how could this one have heard of me?" she said. "No; I don't knowhow to thank you enough for this--and Clytie too. She has almost morework than she can do, all thanks to your introductions. You are toogood to us."

  "My dear child, haven't you learnt yet that we must all help each otherin this world as far as lies in our power? The difficulty sometimeslies in how to do it in the right way. By-the-by, this letter, Iobserve, makes it a condition that you should obtain my father'spermission. How, then, could we possibly have had anything to do withinstigating the offer?"

  Delia smiled, remembering her sister's dictum: "That's only a redherring." However, she had sufficient tact not to press the point.

  "I see they want six photographic views," he went on. "Now, if I mightsuggest, do two of the house, from different points of view--outside;one of the hall and staircase; two of the chapel, outside and in; andone of the lake. That makes it."

  "But, Mr Wagram, you are forgetting the African animals. I must havethose; they are such a feature."

  "Why, of course. Well, then, now I think of it, we will delete theinterior of the chapel. To the crowd it would only look like any otherinterior. What is your camera, by the way?"

  "Only a Kodak. Bull's-eye Number 2. But I understand time exposures,and it takes very sharp and clear."

  "And shorthand writing too. You are a clever girl, and should be ableto turn your accomplishments to useful account."

  Again Delia smiled, for she remembered having let out that she was aready shorthand writer during that former conversation.

  "Well, now, what I suggest is this: I have rather a pressing matter ofbusiness to finish off this morning, so, if you will excuse me, Ipropose to turn you over to Rundle. He will show you every hole andcorner of the house; he knows it like a book. We only looked at itcursorily last time you were here. That will take you all the morning.After lunch--we lunch at one--I can take you over the outside part ofthe job myself. _The Old Country Side_ is a first-rate pictorial, andwe must do justice to Hilversea in it, mustn't we?"

  Delia professed herself delighted, as indeed she was. Then Rundle,having appeared in response to a ring, Wagram proceeded to direct himaccordingly.

  "Show Miss Calmour all there is to see, Rundle," he said, "and work thelight for her so as to get everything from the best point of view forphotography. I showed her the priest's hiding-place the other day, soyou needn't; besides, you don't know the secret of it."

  "No, sir; and it'd have been a good job if some others hadn't knownthere was such a thing," said the old butler in historic allusion."This way, miss."

  Delia appeared at lunch radiant and sparkling. Rundle had proved a mostefficient cicerone, she declared; indeed, so much had there been to seeand hear that she wondered how on earth she was going to compress hernotes into the required limit. Wagram was in a state of covertamusement, for he knew that his father was not forgetting his formerdictum.

  "A Calmour at Hilversea! Pho! it'd be about as much in place as a cowin a church!"

  And yet, here was this bright, pretty girl, who talked so intelligentlyand well--why, she might have been anybody else as far as keeping theold Squire interested and amused was concerned.

  "Now, Miss Calmour, which shall we take first--the animals or thechapel?" said Wagram as they rose from table.

  "The animals, I think, because it may take some time, and the sun is notas reliable as it might be. The chapel I can get much easier with atime exposure, if necessary."

  "Right. I'll tell them to get my tyres pumped up, and we can bike downthere."

  Their way took them over the very road where the adventure had befallen,then a turn to the left, where the riding was rough. Here, under thetrees, a shed of tarred planks came into view.

  "We'll leave our machines here," said Wagram, dismounting. "They'll bequite safe; still, I'll chain them together, as a matter of precaution."

  "What a perfectly lovely place this is," said the girl as they walked onbeneath great over-arching oaks, which let in the sunlight in a networkon the cool sward. "Tell me, Mr Wagram, don't you sometimes find lifetoo good to be real?"

  He looked at her a trifle gravely. There was something very taking inher genuineness and spontaneity. In the present instance she had voicedwhat was often in his mind.

  "Yes, indeed I do," he said; "so much so that at times it is almoststartling."

  It did not occur to him how he was giving vent to some of the mostsolemn side of his meditations for the benefit of this girl--thisdaughter of the drunken, disreputable, old ex-army vet, any other memberof whose family he would not willingly have had there at all. But hadhe known her better--that is, had he known her before that eventfulday--he would have reason to marvel at the great and wondrous changethat had come over her within that short space of time. Her formerslanginess, and other amenities and ideas begotten of Siege House, wereto her now quite of the past, so effective had been recent influences torefine and soften her.

  "Look there, we are in luck's way so far," he said. "Have you got anexposure ready?"

  They had reached a high paling with the upper part bent over inward. Infront was a step-ladder giving access to a small wooden platform at thetop of this.

  "Don't show too suddenly," he whispered as he helped her up this;"you've a fine chance."

  Delia could hardly restrain a cry of delight. About twenty yards away acouple of white-tailed gnus were feeding, and just beyond three more ofthe larger and brindled kind, and a little apart from these a finespecimen of the sable antelope. It was as if some fortunate freak ofNature had grouped and focussed the lot for her own especial benefit.

  "Got 'em," she whispered, clicking the trigger.

  Up went every head. The white-tailed gnus, their wild eyes staring outof fierce-looking, whiskered countenances surmounted by sharpmeat-hook-like horns, began to snort a
nd prance round and round. Thoseof the other kind drew nearer, uttering a raucous bellow.

  "Now, snap them again," whispered Wagram; "you'll never get a betterchance."

  "There; that'll be perfect. Are there any more, Mr Wagram?"

  "None worth taking. Some of the smaller kinds of antelope; but we hopeto get some more specimens. Haldane got these for us. He's been anup-country sportsman in his time, and shot lots of them."

  "How picturesque they look; but they are very ugly."

  "Not the sable antelope?"

  "Oh no; the others. They look as if Nature had started to make a goat,then changed her mind, and manufactured a bad attempt at a buffalo, witha dash of the camel thrown in."

  "Good description," laughed Wagram. The creatures, excited by thesound, snorted and bellowed, pawing the ground or capering in absurdantics, while two had got up a sham fight on their own account.

  "Supposing we were to go down into the enclosure?" she said.

  "Hadn't you a specimen of what that would mean the other day? We havenotices posted everywhere warning people against venturing in; but thispart of the park is right away from any public road, and we don'tencourage trippers. Hallo!"--looking up--"it's lucky you got yoursnapshots. It has started to rain."

  Big drops were pattering down. The sky had become quickly overcast, andan ominous boom from a black, inky background of cloud told that asummer shower was upon them with characteristic suddenness. Theyregained the shed where they had left their bicycles only in the nick oftime, as, with a roar and a rush, the rain whirled upon them in atremendous downpour. Then the vivid sheeting of blue electricity,almost simultaneously with the sharp thunder-crack. The girl gave alittle start.

  "Are you afraid of thunder?" asked Wagram, with a smile.

  "Not now. Sometimes when I am alone I get rather nervous, but now Idon't mind it a bit."

  She spoke no more than the truth. She would have welcomed another hourof the most appalling thunderstorm that ever raged to sit here as shewas doing now, and spend it in this man's society. Yet a wooden shed,open in front, and overhung by tall, spreading oaks, is not perhaps, thesafest refuge in the world under all the circumstances. But the thunderand lightning soon passed over, although it continued to rain smartly.

  "Mr Wagram, there is something I would like to talk to you about," beganthe girl, rather constrainedly, after a quite unwonted interval ofsilence--for her. "I have been thinking of late that I would like to bea Catholic."

  Wagram looked up keenly.

  "Have you given the question careful study?" he said.

  "I have thought it over a great deal. I am fairly at home in theCatholic services. You see, I was travelling on the Continent ascompanion for a time, and then we always attended them, so I do knowsomething about it."

  "To know `something' isn't sufficient; you must know everything."

  "Tell me, then. What should I do?"

  "First, be sure that you are thoroughly in earnest; then you mustundergo instruction."

  Delia's face brightened.

  "I will," she said. "But--tell me how."

  "There is a mission in Bassingham. Go and consult the priest there."

  Delia tried all she knew to keep her face from falling. She had hoped,in her ignorance, that Wagram would have accepted the post ofinstructor.

  "Father Sonnenbloem!" she said. "But, he's a German."

  "Well, what then? My dear child, the Catholic Church is the Church ofthe World, and is above nationality in that it embraces all nations--hence its name. As it happens, Father Sonnenbloem is one of the mostkind-hearted and saintly men who ever lived. He is learned, too. Ifyou are in earnest you could go to no one better."

  Delia declared that she would; and, the rain having ceased, they wentforth just as a bright shaft of sunlight, darting through the cloud,which it was fast dispelling, converted the rain drippings from theleaves into a shower of glittering diamonds, and the moist, ferny,woodland scents after the shower were delicious.

  "We shall have a splashy ride back, I'm afraid," said Wagram as theyregained the road. "No; it has run off rather than soaked in. It won'thurt us; and you'll have the sun for your remaining shots."

  After she had taken the chapel and the Priest's Walk--she must takethat, she said--Delia asked, somewhat diffidently, if she could see theornaments.

  "Certainly," answered Wagram; "only we must get hold of Father Gayle forthat, because he has got the keys of all the best things."

  The chaplain was at home, and soon found.

  "Been taking our private Zoo, I hear, Miss Calmour," he said genially ashe joined them. "Your second sight of it is not quite so startling asyour first, eh?"

  In the sacristy--for they did not do things by halves at Hilversea--Delia was lost in wonder and delight at the beauty of the vestments andornaments, rich and exquisite in texture and design, and she almost hadto shade her eyes to look at the great sun-shaped monstrance, blazingwith precious stones; but what interested her no less, perhaps, was asplendid old chasuble of Flemish make, rich and full, and displaying aperfect chronicle of symbolism in every detail of its embroidery, whichWagram pronounced to have been almost certainly worn by their martyredrelative.

  "From that to my boy's things is something of a skip," he went on, halfopening a drawer, in which lay an acolyte's dress of scarlet and lace;"only the rascal isn't over-keen on getting inside them when he's here--eh, Father? Says he has enough of that sort of thing to do at school."

  "Oh, well, we mustn't expect a boy to be too pious," laughed the priest."I know I was anything but that at his age."

  Delia was interested. It was the first time she had heard Wagram referto his son, and she was about to question him on the subject when thesound of a door opening, and of voices inside the chapel, caught theirattention.

  "It's Haldane and Yvonne," pronounced Wagram. "Perhaps they've come tohave a practice."

  His conjecture proved correct, as in a minute or two the new arrivalsjoined them in the sacristy. They wanted to try over a few things, theysaid, and now the organist was nowhere to be found. Wagram couldn'tplay and sing at the same time, and the same held good of Yvonne, whileHaldane couldn't play at all. What on earth was to be done?

  "Could I be of any use, Mr Haldane?" said Delia with some diffidence."I have some knowledge of accompaniment, and am used to the organ; infact, I can sing _and_ play at the same time without difficulty."

  "The very thing!" cried Haldane. "What a friend in need you are, MissCalmour."

  They adjourned to the choir-loft over the west door, and Delia took herseat at the organ. It was small, but a perfect little instrument forthe size of the building--here again Hilversea did not do things byhalves--and had an automatic blower.

  "This is a treat," said the girl as she ran her fingers over thekeyboard. "Why, the instrument is perfect. What shall we start upon?"

  "Arcadelt," said Yvonne. "Can you take soprano, Miss Calmour?"

  "Yes."

  "All safe. Then we are set up. Mr Wagram, you take tenor, and fatherwill take bass, though he's not as good as he might be at it. Now, areyou ready?"

  And then Arcadelt's _Ave Maria_, than which, probably, no more beautifulcomposition of its kind was ever wrought, in its solemn and plaintivemelody and exquisite interpretation of light and shade, went forth fromthe four voices, cultured voices too, swelling up to the high-pitchedroof in all its richness of sound, and softening into tender petition.

  "Lovely, lovely!" whispered Delia, half to herself, as it ended.

  "It is, isn't it?" said Yvonne. "Do let's have it on Sunday, MrWagram."

  "Shall we?"

  "Oh, do, Mr Wagram," echoed Delia enthusiastically. "I'll ride over,wet or fine, if only to hear it."

  "Very well, then, we will; but won't you not only hear it but help us init?"

  "May I? Oh, I shall be delighted."

  They tried over a few more things, including a gem or two of Gounod,then adjourned t
o the house for tea.

  "What a universal genius that little girl is, Wagram," said Haldane asthey walked thither, the two girls being in front.

  "Yes; she's a clever child--seems able to turn her hand to anything."And then he told of the day's doings.

  "Good, and good again," said Haldane. "We must tell everyone to getthat number of _The Old Country Side_. Then they may give her anotherjob."

  "I think they very likely will," said Wagram, with a twinkle in his eyesthat escaped his friend.