'But, Uncle Alfred,' said Dolores, 'surely my father and mother, and all the other people I have known, did not pay to get their things published.'
'My dear niece, you speak as one who has been with persons of high and established fame-the literary aristocracy, in fact. The doors once opened, Miss Hacket will, like them, make her own terms; but such doors, like many others, are only to be opened by a silver key.'
There were other particulars which he talked over with the authoress in a promenade on the platform while Dolores was left in the waiting-room; but afterwards he indulged his niece with a tete-a-tete, asking her father's address, and mourning over the length of time it would take to obtain an answer from Fiji. Mr. Mohun had promised to help him, solemnly and kindly promised, for the sake of her whom they had both loved so much, and here he was, cut off and quite in extremity. Unfortunate as usual, through his determined enemies, a company in which he had shares had collapsed, he was penniless till his salary from the Politician became due in March. Meanwhile, he should be expelled from his lodging and brought to ruin if he could not raise a few pounds-even one.
Dolores had nearly two pounds in her purse. Her father had left her amply provided, and she had not much opportunity of spending. She knew he had seen the gold when she was shopping, and when she had paid for the refreshments, which of course she had found she had to do. With some hesitation she said, 'If thirty shillings would be of any good to you-'
'My dear, generous child, your dear mother's own daughter! It will be the saving of me temporarily! But among all your wealthy relatives, surely, considering your father's promise, you could obtain some advance until he can be communicated with!'
'If he is still in New Zealand, we could telegraph, and hear directly. He did not know how long he should be there, for the ship had something to be done to it.'
This did not suit Mr. Flinders. Such telegrams were very expensive, and it was too uncertain whether Mr. Mohun would be at Auckland. Surely, Lady Merrifield, whose husband was shaking the pagoda tree, would make an advance if she knew the circumstances.
'I don't think she would,' said Dolores, 'I don't think they are very rich. There is only one horse and one little pony, and my cousins have such very tiny allowances.'
'Haughty and poor! Stuck up and skimping. Yes, I understand. But I am not asking from her, only an advance, on your father's promise, which he would be certain to repay. Yes, quite certain! It is only a matter of time. It would save me at the present moment from utter ruin and destruction that would have broken your dear mother's heart. Oh! Mary, what I lost in you.' Then, as perhaps he saw reflection on Dolores's face, he added, 'She is gone, the only person who took an interest in me, so it matters the less, and when you hear again of your unhappy uncle you will know what drove him-'
'If it was only an advance-I have a cheque,' began Dolores. 'If seven pounds would do you any good-'
'It would be salvation!' he exclaimed.
'Father left it with me,' pursued Dolores, considering, 'in case Professor Muhlwasser went on with his great book of coloured plates of microscopic marine zoophytes, and sent it in. I was to keep this and pay with it-'
'Oh! Muhlwasser! you need not trouble about him. I saw his death in the paper a month ago.'
'Then I really think I might send you the cheque, and write to my father why I did so.'
'Ah! Dolly, I knew that your mother's daughter could never desert me.'
More followed of the same kind, tending to make Dolores feel that she was doing a heroically generous thing, and stifling the lurking sense in her mind that she had no right to dispose of her father's money without his consent. The December day began to close in, the gas was lighted, Constance was seen disconsolately peeping out at the waiting-room door to see whether the private conference were over. They joined her again, and Mr. Flinders discoursed about the envy and jealousy of critics, and success being only attained by getting into a certain clique, till she began to look rather frightened; but reassured by the voluble list of names and papers to which he assured her of recommendations. Then he began to be complimentary, and she, to put on the silly tituppy kind of face and tone wherewith she had talked to the curates at the festival. Dolores began to find this very dull, and to feel neglected, perhaps also cross, and doubts came across her whether she might not get into a dreadful scrape about the money, which she certainly had no right to dispose of. She at last broke in with, 'Uncle Alfred, are you quite sure Professor Muhlwasser is dead?'
'Bless your heart, child, he's as dead as Harry the Eighth,' said Mr. Flinders in haste;' died at Berlin, of fatty degeneration of the heart! Well, as I was saying, Miss Constance-'
'But, uncle, I was thinking-'
'Hush!' as a couple of ladies and a whole train of nurses and children invaded the waiting-room, 'it won't do to talk of such little matters in public places, you know. Would you not like a cup of tea, Miss Constance. Will you allow me to be your cavalier?'
People were beginning to arrive in expectation of the coming train, and talk was not possible in the throng; at least, Mr. Flinders did not make it so. At last the train swept up, and he was hurrying to find places for the ladies, when there was a moment's glimpse of a handsome moustached face at a smoking-carriage window. Dolores started, and had almost exclaimed, 'Uncle Reginald;' but before the words were out of her mouth, Mr. Flinders had drawn her on swiftly, among all the numbers of people getting out and getting in, hurled her into a distant carriage, handed Constance in after her, and muttering something about forgetting an appointment, he vanished, without any of the arrangements about foot-warmers that he had promised.
'Uncle Reginald!' again exclaimed Dolores, 'I am sure it was he!'
'Oh dear! What an escape!' answered Constance, breathless with surprise, and settling herself with disgust and difficulty next to a fat old farmer, as three or four more people entered and jammed them close together.
'Who is he?' she presently whispered.
'Colonel Mohun. His regiment is at Galway. I know he talked of getting over this winter if he possibly could; but Aunt Lily went away before the post was come in.'
'We shall have to take great care when we get out.'
Here the train started, and conversation in undertones became impossible, more especially as two of the farmers in the carriage were coming back from the Smithfield Cattle Show, and were discussing the prize oxen with all their might. It was very stuffy and close. Constance looked ineffably fastidious and uncomfortable, and Dolores gazed at the clouded window, and dull little lamp overhead, put in to enliven the deepening twilight. This avoiding of Uncle Reginald brought more before her mind a sense of wrong-doing than anything that had gone before. She was fond of this uncle, who always made her father's house his headquarters when in London, and used to play with her when she was a small child, and always to take her to the Zoological Gardens, till she declared she was too old to care for such a childish show, and then he and her father both laughed at her so much that she would never have forgiven anybody else; and she found he enjoyed it for his own sake far more than she did. However, he always did take her out for walks and sights that were sure to be amusing with him. Father, too, was quite bright and alive when he was in the house, and thus Dolores had nothing but pleasant associations connected with this uncle, and had heard of the chances of his coming like a ray of light, though without much hope, since the state of Ireland had prevented him from being able even to run over to take leave of her father. And now he was come, she must hide from him like a guilty thing! There was no spirit of opposition against him in her mind, and thus she could feel that she was doing something sad and strange. Moreover, she began to feel that her promise about the cheque had been a rash one, and the echo of her father's voice came back on her, saying, 'Surely, Mary, you know better than to believe a word out of Flinders's mouth.'
But then she thought of her mother's rare tears glistening in her eyes, and the answer, 'Poor Alfred! I cannot give him up. Everything has b
een against him.'
It was quite dark before Silverton was reached, at half-past five, with three quarters of an hour to spare before the other travellers were expected. Most of their fellow passengers had got out at previous stations, so that Constance was able to open the door and jump out so perilously before the train had quite stopped, that a porter caught her with a sharp word of reproof. She grasped Dolores's hand and scudded across the platform, giving the return tickets almost before the collector was ready. A cautious guard even exclaimed, 'What's those two young women up to?' but was answered at once, 'They're all right! That's nought but one of the old parson's daughters, as have been out with a return to Darminster.'
'A sweetheartin'?' demanded one of the bystanders, and there was a laugh.
Constance heard the tones and vulgar laugh, though not the words, and she was in such a panic as she hurried down the steps that she did not stop to look out for a cab. The place was small, and they were not very plentiful at any time, and she was mortally afraid, though she hardly knew why, of being over-taken and questioned by Colonel Mohun, who might know his niece, though he would not know her; but Dolores was tired, and had a headache, and did not at all like the walk in the dirt, and fog, and dark, after turning from the gas lit station.
'We were to have a cab, Constance.'
'We can't,' was the answer, still hurrying on. 'He would come out upon us.'
'He is much more likely to overtake us this way!' said Dolores, thinking of her uncle's long strides.
'Well, we can't turn back now!' said Constance, getting almost into a run, which lasted till they were past the paddock gate. Dolores, panting to keep up with her, had half a mind to turn up there and go straight home; but there might be any number of oxen in the way, and almost worse, she might meet Jasper and Wilfred, or if Uncle Reginald overtook her, what would he think?
The pair slackened their pace a little when they had satisfied themselves that the break in the dark hedge beside them was the gate. They heard wheels, and presently saw the lamps of a cab, bearing down, halt at the gate they had left behind, and turn in.
'We should have been off first,' said Dolores.
'If we could have got a cab in time?'
'One can always get cabs.'
'Oh! no, not at all for certain.'
'This is a nasty, stupid, out-of-the-way place,' said Dolores, wanting to say something cross.
'It isn't a vulgar place, full of traffic,' returned Constance, equally cross.
'Well, I never meant to walk home in this way! I'm sure my feet are wet. I wish I had waited and gone with Uncle Regie.'
'Now, Dolly, what do you mean? You would not have it all betrayed?'
'I've a great mind to tell Uncle Regie all about it.'
'Now, Dolly! When you said so much about the Mohun pride and scorn of your poor, dear uncle.'
'Uncle Regie is not proud. And he would know what to do.'
'But,' cried Constance, in a fright, 'you would never tell him! You promised that it should be a secret, and I should be in such a dreadful scrape with Lady Merrifield and Mary.'
'Well! it was your doing, and you had all the pleasure of it, flourishing about the platform with him.'
'How can you be so disagreeable, Dolores, when you know it was all on business. Though I do think he is the most interesting man I ever did see.'
'Just because he flattered you.'
However, there is no need to tell how many cross and quarrelsome things the two tired friends said to each other. They were sitting on opposite sides of the fire, one very gloomy, and the other very pettish, when the waggonette stopped at the gate, to put out Miss Hacket and take up Dolores. Hands pulled her up the step, and a hubbub of merry voices received her in the dark.
'Good girl, not to keep us waiting.'
'Oh, Dolly, Dolly, Macrae says Uncle Regie's come!'
'Oh, Dolly, it has been such fun!'
'Take care of my parcel!'
'Ah, ha! you don't know what is in there.'
'Here's something under my feet!'
'Oh! take care! 'Tisn't my-'
'Hush, hush, Val-'
And so it went on till on the steps was seen in full light among the boys, Uncle Reginald, ready to lift every one out with a kiss.'
'Ha! Dolly, is that you?' he said, as they came into the hall. 'I saw such a likeness of you at one station that I was as near as possible jumping out to speak to her. She had on just that fur tippet!'
'That comes of living in Ireland, Regie,' said Aunt Lily. 'Once in a shop at Belfast, a lady darted up to me with "And it's I that am glad to see you, me dear. And how's me sweet little god-daughter? Oh! and it isn't yourself. And aren't you Mrs. Phelim O'Shaugnessy?'" And under cover of this, Dolores retreated to her own room. She took off her things, and then looked at the cheque.
Professor Muhlwasser was a clever German, always at work on science, counting, in the most minute and accurate manner, such details as the rays in a sea anemone's tentacles, or the eggs in a shrimp's roe. He was engaged on a huge book, in numbers, of which Mr. Maurice Mohun had promised to take two copies-but whereas extravagances upon peculiar hobbies were apt not to be tolerated in the family, and it was really uncertain whether the work would ever be completed, Mr. Mohun had preferred leaving a cheque for the payment in his little daughter's hand, rather than entrust it to one of the brothers, who would have howled and growled at such a waste of good money on such a subject. Thus he had told Dolores to back the draft, get it changed, and send the amount by a postal order to Germany, if the books and account should come, which he thought very doubtful.
And now the professor was dead, Dolores looked at the cheque, and supposed she could do as she pleased with it. Mother helped Uncle Alfred. Yes, but mother earned all she sent him herself! Perhaps he would not ask again. How much more he had talked to Constance than to herself. Dolly wished she had not seen him to get into this difficulty. She was tired, cold, and damp. Oh! if she had never gone, and not been half caught by Uncle Regie!
CHAPTER XII. A HUNT
Dolores was glad to recollect, when she awoke, that Uncle Reginald was in the house. It was as if she had a friend of her own there who might enter into all the ill-usage she suffered, and whom she could even consult about Uncle Alfred, so far as she could do so without disclosing all the underhand correspondence. She called doing so betraying Constance, but, in truth, she shrank more from shocking him with what he might think very wrong-since, after all, he belonged to that hard-hearted generation of grown-up people who had no feeling nor understanding of one's troubles.
As she went downstairs she was aware of an increasing hubbub, and frequently looking over the balusters, perceived the top of Primrose's wavy head above the close-cropped one of Uncle Regie, as, with her mounted on his shoulder, he careered round the hall, with a pack of others vociferating behind him;
There was a lull, for Lady Merrifield came out of her room just as Dolores had paused; Primrose was put down, the morning salutations took place, and Dolores had her full share of them. She was even allowed to sit next her uncle at breakfast; but her rasher of bacon had not been half eaten, before she had perceived that, as to possessing him as she used to do at home, he was just as much everybody else's Uncle Regie as hers, for during the time of their being stationed at Belfast, he had been so often with them, that he was quite established as the prince of playfellows.
'Uncle Regie, will you have a crack at the rabbits tomorrow? Brown said we might have a day, and we have been keeping it for you.'
'Uncle Regie, the hounds meet at the Bugle this morning, won't you come and see them throw off?'
'Oh, let me come too!' 'And me!' 'And me!'
'My dear children,' exclaimed their mother, 'I can't have the whole tribe of little ones and girls going galloping after your uncle. You will only hinder him.'
'No, no, Lily! the more Merrifields, the merrier the field. I'll drill them well. How far off is this Bugle?'
'Not two miles o
ver Furzy Common.'
'Oh! not so far, Hal!'
'That's nothing. Who is coming?'
A general outbreak of 'Me's' ensued, but mamma laid an embargo on Primrose, who must stay at home and 'help her,' while Gillian looked wistful and doubtful, knowing that more efficient help than the little one's might be desirable.
'You had better go, my dear,' said her mother, 'if you are not tired. I don't like to send Mysie and Val without some one to turn back with them if your uncle and the boys want to go further.'
But whereas it was not nearly time to start, Uncle Reginald was dragged down to inspect all the live stock in the stable-yard, at their feeding-time, and went off with Val and Primrose clinging to his hands, and the general rabble surrounding him.
Nothing could have been more alien to Dolores's taste than going out to a meet on foot through mud and mire-she who hated the being driven out to take a constitutional walk on the gravel road or the paved path! But she had some hope that while all the others ran off madly, as was their wont, she might secure a little rational conversation with Uncle Reginald. So she came down in hat and ulster, and was rewarded with 'That's right, Doll; I'm glad to see they have taught you to take country walks.'
'It is all compliment to you, Uncle Regie,' said Gillian. 'She hates them generally.'
'Are we all ready? Where are Japs and Will?'
'Gone to shut up the dogs; and Hal is not coming.'
'Beneath his dignity, eh?'
'I think he has some reading to do,' said Gillian.
'Now mind, Reginald,' said Aunt Lily, coming on the scene, 'you are not to let those imps drag you farther than you like. It is a very different thing, remember, children, from going out with the hounds like a gentleman.'
'Yes, mamma,' returned Fergus. 'If you would only let me have the pony!'
'And send home the girls as soon as you find them in the way,' she added.
'All right,' answered he, and off plunged the party; but Dolores soon found that she was not to be allowed much of Uncle Reginald's exclusive society. He did begin talking to her about her father's voyage, last letters, and intended departure from Auckland, but Valetta kept fast hold of his other hand, and the others were all round, every moment pointing out something-to them noticeable-and telling the story of some exploit, delighted when their uncle capped it with some boyish tales of Beechcroft, or with some droll, Irish story.
The Two Sides of the Shield Page 15
