The Fortunes of the Farrells

by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

  THE SILVER LINING.

  Ruth and Mollie constituted themselves nurses, Mollie, as the morerobust of the two, insisting upon taking as her share the arduous nightduties. Trix found time to attend to the housekeeping between schoolhours, the younger children were housed by sympathetic friends, and onthe once noisy house settled down that painful silence which prevailswhen a fight is being waged between life and death.

  At the beginning of the illness Ruth was dismayed to see a stranger inDr Maclure's place, but on the third day he appeared, bringing with himan atmosphere of comfort and security. One felt now that all that waspossible from human skill and care would be done for the dear invalid,and, busy man as he was, Dr Maclure found time for several visits aday, until the first acute anxiety was passed. Until then hisintercourse with Ruth had been solely that of physician and nurse, butone morning, when the invalid's temperature and pulse both showed asatisfactory decline, he walked into the dining-room on the way to thedoor, and motioned Ruth to a seat.

  "Sit down for a moment. I want to have a little talk with you. It is adoctor's duty to see that a nurse does not overtax her strength, and youare looking very ill these last few days. I am going to prescribe atonic which I want you to take regularly, and you must contrive to havea walk each day, and, if possible, a rest in the afternoon. You mightlie down on the sofa while your mother is dozing."

  Ruth flushed, and shook her head in pretty disclaimer.

  "Oh, I am all right! Don't trouble about me. I have not half such ahard time of it as Mollie. The nursing doesn't tire me a bit; it isother things which make one feel rather ill at times."

  "Just so. And it is about those other things that I want to speak.Eleanor and I have been abroad for a month, and have heard little or nohome news. I was ill--that is to say, feeling rather worn out,"corrected the doctor, with a sudden flush of colour to his thin cheeks,"so we decided to treat ourselves to a holiday. I found on my returnthat Mrs Connor was ill, and heard rumours which strengthened my ownconviction that her trouble was more mental than physical. It is notgiving a doctor a fair chance to keep back anything from him in a caseof this sort. I want you to tell me honestly, as a friend andphysician, if anything can be done to set her mind at rest."

  "We are ruined, that's the trouble! The pater has lost every penny--notby his own fault, but through some wretched man who has deliberatelycheated him for months back. He can't even go on with what business isleft, for want of capital, so we have arrived at the point when we don'tknow what to do next. We look pretty much as usual, I suppose, but weare just as much paupers as if we lived in the big workhouse over inSmithdown Lane!"

  Dr Maclure paced slowly up and down the room, stopping immediately infront of Ruth's chair.

  "But, excuse me--your uncle? Surely he will help at a crisis of thissort. Before I went abroad I heard great stories of your life at theCourt, and of the very marked preference which he showed to yourself.It seemed a foregone conclusion that his choice had fallen upon you,and, if so--"

  "Ah, that was a month ago! Many things have happened since then. UncleBernard doesn't like me as much as he did. He discovered my weaknesses,and accused me of being a coward. I am not a coward, as a rule, but Iwanted so badly to please him that I was afraid to be natural, as Molliewas. Before we came away someone went to his desk and read the draft ofa will which he had mentioned a few days before. It was not altered ortampered with in any way, but, of course, it was a mean thing to pryinto his private papers, when he had put us on our honour by speaking ofit. We all denied it, but just because I had been afraid before, I knowhe suspects that I did it, and dare not confess.--Then we came awayagainst his wishes. Jack Melland left, too, so only one out of the fourremains, and he is certain to be the heir."

  "You mean Mr Victor Druce?"

  Ruth started, raising a flushed, bewildered face.

  "Yes; but how,--what do you know about him?"

  "Trix brought some of your letters to show us. His name was mentionedvery often, Ruth. I had a presentiment that you two would be more thanfriends. You must forgive me, but one's perceptions grow keen whenone's interests are strong. I thought that very probably Mr Farrellhad some such hope in inviting you and Mollie to meet these two men."

  "Perhaps he had. I have thought so, too, but, in any case, it has cometo nothing. Jack Melland cares for nothing but his work, and MrDruce--"

  Ruth hesitated, possessed by a sudden impulse to confide her owntroubles to this man, who loved her, and would understand. Her lidsdropped till the dark lashes lay on her flushed cheek; she clasped herhands nervously together. "He made love to me as long as I was infavour, but it was only pretence. He really cares for another girl, buthe thought I should be a better bargain if I were Uncle Bernard'sheiress. He has taken no notice of me lately, but we found him outbefore that,--I and the other girl. She is good and charming, and inevery way better than I am, and she had cared for him, too. I expect hewill try to marry her now that I am in disgrace, but she will neveraccept him."

  "And you, Ruth? Has it gone very hardly with you, poor child?"

  There was silence for several moments before Ruth lifted a thoughtfulface.

  "I--don't--know!" she said slowly. "It was a shock to me at first, andI felt as if I could never believe in a man again, but since I came homeI have hardly thought about him, and if I had cared as much as Iimagined that would have been the worst trouble of all. I think it wasjust part of the experience. Can you understand? Summer-time, and thelovely country, and the holiday feeling, and nothing to do but lazeabout, and amuse ourselves together. It seemed--don't laugh!--sonatural to fall in love."

  Dr Maclure did not laugh, but a smile flashed over his face, full ofimmeasurable relief and pleasure.

  "I do understand," he said heartily. "You have had so few chances ofenjoying yourself with young people of your own age. It was, as yousay, quite natural, but I hope you will have no more to do with thefellow. He is a pretty contemptible specimen, by all accounts."

  "Oh no!" Ruth reared her little head with a haughty gesture. "I couldforgive a great deal to a man who really loved me, but nothing to anadventurer who cares only for his own gains; I am sorry the dear oldCourt will fall into such hands, for he cannot make a good master, and,as far as we are concerned, it will cease to exist. That dream has cometo an end, Dr Maclure!"

  "Well, one must hope it will be replaced by something more lasting.Don't trouble too much about Mr Connor's difficulties. I feel quiteconvinced that some arrangement can be made to tide him over the presentcrisis. You may not live at the Court, but it is equally certain thatyou are not going to the workhouse."

  He held out his hand, and Ruth said good-bye with a little tremor ofrelief and thankfulness in her voice. Dr Maclure was a man of fewwords, but what he said he meant, and his quiet, assured manner made himseem a veritable rock of refuge in the midst of the storm.

  Ruth felt happier and more hopeful than she had done for many a longday, despite the uneasiness caused by the doctor's appearance. His skinwas bronzed by his tour abroad, otherwise he must have looked shockinglyill, for he was thin and worn to a marked extent. Remembering the dateof his illness, it was impossible not to connect it with her ownrefusal, and Ruth's heart softened at the thought. "He has suffered forme, as I have suffered for Victor! He is a real man; true and strongand honest. Everywhere people run after him and admire him, but hecares only for me. How much he cares! His poor, thin face! All thistime while I have been forgetting, he has been thinking of me, andgrieving himself ill."

  Sad though the reflection might be, there was comfort mingled with it.The sore, slighted feeling of the last few weeks could not survive whilea man of Donald Maclure's calibre placed her first among women.

  That very evening, after his second visit to the invalid, the doctor wascloseted with Mr Connor for an hour, and after his departure the latterjoined his step-daughters in the dining-room, where Mo
llie was eatingher deferred dinner in preparation for the night's watch, and the firstglance at his face proved that a light had arisen in the darkness.

  "The worst is over!" he said tremblingly. "Maclure has come to therescue. He is a good fellow--a noble fellow! God will reward him; I amto draw upon him for necessary expenses for the next few months; and Ihave no doubt the business will go well--so many men have come forwardand offered to support me if I could keep going. This will be the bestpossible medicine for your mother, and for us all. It will give usheart to work, and we shall have to work hard to pay off the loan."

  Ruth set her lips in a determined fashion, which gave a new expressionto her face. She was thankful beyond words for help in this time ofneed, but the fact that it had come from Donald Maclure, of all people,made the debt difficult to bear. He had already offered much, and hadbeen rejected. She felt oppressed by his very generosity.

  That night when she went to bed, Ruth unfolded the little bundle ofletters which she had received from Raby since her return home, and readthem over with lingering attention. No word from Uncle Bernard, thoughboth girls had written to him more than once, telling him of theirmother's illness and progress towards recovery. Not a line from Victor,though he must have known of the added trouble. A short, manly letterof sympathy from Jack Melland, who had heard of the bad news throughMrs Thornton--a letter addressed to Ruth, with "kindest regards to hersister"; three long, underlined epistles from that lady herself, and onesheet covered with a beautiful, distinctive handwriting, and signed"Margot Blount." Ruth opened this last letter first of all, and passedhurriedly over expressions of condolence to the more practical part ofthe message.

  "And now, Ruth, you must not think because Fate has separated us in thishurried manner that you have seen the last of me. I want to be yourfriend now and always, and hope to see a great deal of you in thefuture. Mrs Thornton says that you wish to find some work. I amneither rich nor clever, but I know a great many people, and I have somelittle influence, so I can certainly help you there. Write, dear, andtell me if you have any special vocation in view, or if you are willingto take the best chance that offers. I have a rich and gouty relationwhose companion is shortly to be married. I could recommend you for thepost, when you would be well paid, and live in luxury; but I know youwould feel prisoned, and long to throw cushions at her occasionally. Ishould! There are numerous societies and guilds also to which I belong,and to one of which you might be appointed as secretary or treasurer.Then you would be your own mistress, and free; but is freedom worth muchin London lodgings? I can't fancy you roughing it by yourself, and Ikeep hoping against hope for some sudden turn of the tide which maystill make it unnecessary. Don't settle to anything before telling mefirst. I know I can find something really good if you give me time.

  "Mr Druce is very much in evidence, acting host at the Court, andvisiting far and near. He tells me that Mr Farrell consults him onevery point, and gives him carte blanche to do as he likes; and I hearas much from other sources, more reliable. As his position becomes moreassured, his attentions increase; but he will not make the fatal mistakeof burdening himself with a poor wife until there is no possibility ofmistake. Therefore, it may some day be my painful duty to refuse tobecome mistress of the Court; but the refusing itself I shall enjoy.You would not, for you have a gentle nature; but Mr Druce shall findthat he cannot play with Margot Blount for naught!"

  Ruth could see in imagination the haughty tilt of Margot's gracefulhead, and the flash in her eyes, as she wrote those words, and did notenvy Victor his hour of awakening. Evidently the whole countryside nowlooked upon him as the accepted heir, and even hopeful Mrs Thorntonceased to prophesy for the future.

  "I have seen Mr Farrell twice this last week, but have not succeeded inmaking him mention your names," she wrote in her last letter. "I talkcontinuously of you--in what vein you can imagine!--and read extractsfrom your letters; and he listens intently, but makes no remarks. I cansee him mentally pounce on anything which gives him fresh insight intoyour life here, as if he were still interested in the study of yourcharacters; but the moment I stop speaking he turns the conversation toimpersonal topics. Only one thing he has done which I thought reallythoughtful. Ruth's camera was found lying about, and he gaveinstructions that it was to be taken down to the photographers the sameday, and copies printed from all the films, so that your mother mightreceive them as soon as possible. I believe they were sent upyesterday, so that you may expect them soon, and perhaps a letter at thesame time. Mr Druce is kind and amiable, and very much the man inpossession. I don't take to him, but my husband believes he will make agood squire."

  "Will," not "would"! This from Mrs Thornton was conclusive indeed!Ruth dropped a salt tear on the back of the sheet as she folded it up.It was good news to hear of the trouble Uncle Bernard had taken on herbehalf. Surely, surely he would not forward the photographs withoutenclosing some sort of an answer to her many notes!

  For the next few days Ruth's heart leapt every time the postman's knocksounded at the door; but, when the longed-for packet arrived, the words,"Photographs only," written on the back, killed her hopes at a glance.The pictures themselves were fairly successful, and gave a happy half-hour to the invalid, who bent lovingly over each familiar scene.

  "It takes me back to my youth to see the dear old rooms again! Howsuccessful you are with interiors, Ruth; but you have no photograph ofthe library, one of my favourite haunts. How did you come to leave thatout?"

  "I didn't. I took it twice over. I'm sorry, dear, but I expect theywere failures," said Ruth wearily.

  She could not guess that on these missing pictures hung the fate of manylives.