Book: Uncle Max

R >> Rosa Nouchette Carey >> Uncle Max




I wonder if Max noticed how like a picture she looked. She was dressed
very simply in a soft creamy cashmere, and her fair hair was piled up on
her head in regal fashion: the smooth plaits seemed to crown her; a
little knot of red berries that had been carelessly fastened against her
throat was the only colour about her; but she looked more like Clytie
than ever, and again I told myself that I had never seen a sweeter face.

She greeted me with gentle warmth, but she hardly looked at Max; her
white lids dropped over her eyes whenever he addressed her, and when she
answered him she seemed to speak in a more measured voice than usual. Max
too appeared extremely nervous; instead of sitting down, he stood upon
the bear-skin rug and fidgeted with some tiny Chinese ornaments on the
mantelpiece. Neither of them appeared at ease: was it possible that they
were not friends?

'You are not often to be found in solitude, Miss Hamilton,' observed Max;
and it struck me his voice was a little peculiar. 'I do not think I have
ever seen you sitting alone in this room before.'

'No,' she answered quickly, and then she went on in rather a hesitating
manner: 'Etta and Lady Betty have been shopping in Brighton, and they
came back by a late train, and now Etta is shut up with Giles in his
study. Some letters that came by this morning's post had to be answered.'

'Miss Darrell is Hamilton's secretary, is she not?'

'She writes a good many of his letters. Giles is rather idle about
correspondence, and she helps him with his business and accounts. Etta
is an extremely busy person.'

'Miss Hamilton used to be busy too,' returned Max quietly. 'I always
considered you an example to our ladies. I lost one of my best workers
when I lost you.'

A painful colour came into Miss Hamilton's face.

'Oh no,' she protested, rather feebly. 'Etta is far cleverer than I at
parish work. Teaching does not make her head ache.'

'Yours used not to ache last summer,' persisted Uncle Max, but she did
not seem to hear him. She had turned to me, and there was almost an
appealing look in her beautiful eyes, as though she were begging me to
talk.

'Oh, do you know, Miss Garston,' she said nervously, 'that Giles was very
nearly sending for you last night? He was with Mrs. Blagrove's little
girl until five this morning; the poor little creature died at half-past
four, and he told us that he thought half a dozen times of sending for
you.'

'I wish he had done so. I should have been so glad to help.'

'Yes, he knew that, but he said it would have been such a shame rousing
you out of your warm bed; and he had not the heart to do it. So he
stopped on himself; there was really nothing to be done, but the parents
were in such a miserable state that he did not like to leave them. He was
so tired this afternoon that he dropped asleep instead of writing his
letters: that is why Etta has to do them.'

'Who is talking about Etta?' observed Miss Darrell, coming in at that
moment, with a quick rustle of her silk skirt, looking as well-dressed,
self-possessed, and full of assurance as ever. 'Why are you good people
sitting in the dark? Thornton would have lighted the candles if you had
rung, Gladys; but I suppose you forgot, and were dreaming over the fire
as usual. Miss Garston, I suppose I ought to apologise for being late,
but we are such busy people here; every moment is of value; and though
Gladys asked you to come early, I never thought you would be so good as
to do so. Friendly people are scarce, are they not, Mr. Cunliffe? By the
bye,' holding up a taper finger loaded with sparkling rings, 'I have a
scolding in store for you. Why did you not examine my class as usual last
Sunday?--the children tell me you never came near them.'

'I had so little time that I asked Tudor to take the classes for me,' he
returned quickly, but he was looking at Miss Hamilton as he spoke. 'I am
always sure of the children in that class: they have been so thoroughly
well taught that there is very little need for me to interfere.'

'It would encourage their teachers if you were to do so,' returned Miss
Darrell, smiling graciously. She evidently appropriated the praise to
herself, but I am sure Uncle Max was not thinking of her when he spoke.
Just then Lady Betty came into the room, followed by Mr. Tudor.

Lady Betty looked almost pretty to-night. She wore a dark ruby velveteen
that exactly suited her brown skin; her fluffy hair was tolerably smooth,
and she had a bright colour. She came and sat down beside me at once.

'Oh, I am so vexed that we are so late! but it was all Etta's fault: she
would look in at every shop-window, and so of course we lost the proper
train.'

'What does the child say?' asked Miss Darrell good-humouredly. She seemed
in excellent spirits this evening; but how silent Miss Hamilton had
become since her entrance! 'Of course poor Etta is blamed; she always is
if anything goes wrong in the house; Etta is the family scapegoat. But
who was it, I wonder, who wanted another turn on the pier? Not Etta,
certainly.'

'Just as though those few minutes would have mattered; and I did want
another look at the sea,' returned Lady Betty pettishly; 'but no, you
preferred those stupid shops. That is why I hate to go into Brighton with
you.' But Miss Darrell only laughed at this flimsy display of wrath.

Just then Mr. Tudor had taken the other vacant chair beside me. 'How is
the village nurse?' he asked, in his bright way. I certainly liked Mr.
Tudor, he had such a pleasant, friendly way with him, and on his part he
seemed always glad to see me. If I had ever talked slang, I might have
said that we chummed together famously. He was a year younger than
myself, and I took advantage of this to give him advice in an
elder-sisterly fashion.

'You must take care that the clergy do not spoil the village nurse,'
observed Miss Darrell, who had overheard him, and this time the taper
finger was uplifted against Mr. Tudor.

'Oh, there is no fear of that,' he returned manfully; 'Miss Garston is
too sensible to allow herself to be spoiled; but it is quite right that
we all should make much of her.'

'We will ask Giles if he agrees with this,' replied Miss Darrell, in
a funny voice, and at that moment Mr. Hamilton entered the room.

I do not know why I thought he looked nicer that evening: one thing, I
had never seen him in evening dress, and it suited him better than his
rough tweed; he was quieter and less abrupt in manner, more dignified and
less peremptory, but he certainly looked very tired.

He accosted me rather gravely, I thought, though he said that he was glad
to see me at Gladwyn. His first remark after this was to complain of the
lateness of the dinner.

'Parker is not very punctual this evening, Etta,' he observed, looking
at his watch.

'I think it was our fault, Giles,' returned his cousin plaintively. 'We
kept Thornton such a long time in the study, and no doubt that is the
cause of the delay. Parker is seldom a minute behindhand; punctuality is
her chief point, as Mrs. Edmonstone told me when I engaged her. You see,'
turning to Uncle Max, 'we are such a regular household that the least
deviation in our nature quite throws us into confusion. I am so sorry,
Giles, I am, indeed; but will you ring for Thornton, and that will remind
him of his duty?'

Miss Darrell's submissive speech evidently disarmed Mr. Hamilton, and
deprived him of his Englishman's right to grumble to his womankind: so he
said, quite amiably, that they would wait for Parker's pleasure a little
longer, and then relapsed into silence.

The next moment I saw him looking at me with rather an odd expression;
it was as though he were regarding a stranger whom he had not seen
before; I suppose the term 'taking stock' would explain my meaning.
Just then dinner was announced, and he gave me his arm.

The dining-room was very large and lofty, and was furnished in dark oak.
A circular seat with velvet cushions ran round the deep bay-window. A
small oval table stood before it. Dark ruby curtains closed in the bay.

My first speech to Mr. Hamilton was to regret that he had not sent for me
the previous night.

'Oh no,' he said pleasantly. 'I am quite glad now that your rest was
not disturbed.' And then he went on looking at me with the same queer
expression that his face had worn before.

'Do you know, Miss Garston, your remark quite startled me? Somehow
I do not seem to recognise my nurse to-night. When I came into the
drawing-room just now I thought there was a strange young lady sitting
by Tudor.'

Of course I was curious to know what he meant; but he positively refused
to enlighten me, and went on speaking about his poor little patient.

'She was an only child; but nothing could have saved her. The Blagroves
are well-to-do people,--Brighton shopkeepers,--so they hardly come under
the category of your patients. Miss Garston, you call yourself a servant
of the poor, do you not?'

'I should not refuse to help any one who really needed it,' was my reply.
'But, of course, if people can afford to hire service I should think my
labour thrown away on them.'

'Ah! just so. But now and then we meet with a case where hirelings can
give no comfort. With the Blagroves, for example, there was nothing to be
done but just to watch the child's feeble life ebb away. A miracle only
could have saved her; but all the same it was impossible to go away and
leave them. They were young people, and had never seen death before.'

I was surprised to hear him speak with so much feeling. And I liked that
expression 'servant of the poor.' It sounded to me as though he had at
last grasped my meaning, and that I had nothing more to fear from his
sarcasm.

I wondered what had wrought such a sudden change in him, for I had only
worked such a few days. Certainly it would make things far easier if I
could secure him as an ally; and I began to hope that we should go on
more smoothly in the future.

Mr. Hamilton was evidently a man whom it would take long to know. His was
by no means a character easy to read. One would be sure to be startled by
new developments and curious contradictions. I had known him only for ten
days; but then we had met constantly in that short time. I had seen him
hard in manner and soft in speech, cool, critical, and disparaging, at
one moment satirical and provoking, the next full of thoughtfulness and
readiness to help. No wonder I found it difficult to comprehend him.

When we had finished discussing the Blagroves, Mr. Hamilton turned
his attention to his other guests, and tried to promote the general
conversation: this left me at liberty to make my own observations.

Miss Hamilton sat at the top of the table facing her brother, and Uncle
Max and Mr. Tudor were beside her; but she did not speak to either of
them unless they addressed her, and her replies seemed to be very brief.
If I had been less interested in her I might have accused her of want of
animation, for it is hardly playing the _role_ of a hostess to look
beautiful and be chary of words and smiles.

It was impossible to attribute her silence to absence of mind, for she
followed with grave attention every word that was spoken; but for some
inexplicable reason she had withdrawn into herself. Uncle Max left her
to herself after a time, and began to talk politics with Mr. Hamilton,
and Mr. Tudor was soon compelled to follow his example.

Poor Mr. Tudor! I rather pitied him, for his other neighbour, Lady Betty,
had turned suddenly very sulky, and I had my surmises that Miss Darrell
had said something to affront her; for she made snapping little answers
when any one spoke to her, and, though they laughed at her, and nobody
seemed to mind, most likely they thought it prudent to give her time to
recover herself.

Miss Darrell's radiant good-humour was a strange contrast to her two
cousins' silence. She threw herself gallantly into the breach, and talked
fast and well on every topic broached by the gentlemen. She was evidently
clever and well read, and had dabbled in literature and politics.

Her energy and vivacity were almost fatiguing. She seemed able to keep up
two or three conversations at once. The lowest whisper did not escape her
ear; if Mr. Hamilton spoke to me, I saw her watchful eye on us, and she
joined in at once with a sprightly word or two; the next moment she was
answering Uncle Max, who had at last hazarded a remark to his silent
neighbour. Miss Hamilton had no time to reply; her cousin's laugh and
ready word were before her.

I found the same thing happen when Mr. Tudor addressed me: before he had
finished his sentence she had challenged the attention of the table.

'Giles,' she said good-humouredly, 'do you know what Mr. Tudor said in
the drawing-room just now, that it was the bounden duty of the Heathfield
folk to spoil and make much of Miss Garston?'

Both Mr. Tudor and I looked confused at this audacious speech, but he
tried to defend himself as well as he could.

'No, no, Miss Darrell, that was not quite what I said; the whole style
of the sentence is too laboured to belong to me: "bounden duty,"--no, it
does not sound like me at all.'

'We need not quarrel about terms,' she persisted; 'your meaning was just
the same. Come, Mr. Tudor, you cannot unsay your own words, that it was
right for you all to make much of Miss Garston.'

I thought this was spoken in the worst possible taste, and I am sure Mr.
Hamilton thought so too, for he smiled slightly and said, 'Nonsense,
Etta! you let your tongue run away with you. I daresay that was not
Tudor's meaning at all; he is the most matter-of-fact fellow I know, and
could not coin a compliment to save his life. Besides which, I expect he
has found out by this time that it would be rather difficult to spoil
Miss Garston. That cuts both ways, eh!' looking at me rather
mischievously.

'Oh, if all the gentlemen are in conspiracy to defend Miss Garston, I
will say no more,' returned Miss Darrell, with a shrug, but she did not
say it quite pleasantly. 'Gladys dear, I think we had better retire
before I am quite crushed: Giles's frown has quite flattened me out. Miss
Garston, if you are ready,' making me a mocking little courtesy; but Miss
Hamilton waited for me at the door and linked her arm in mine, taking
possession of me in a graceful way that evidently pleased Max, for he
looked at us smiling.

'Come into the conservatory, Gladys,' whispered Lady Betty in her
sister's ear. 'Etta has a cold coming on, and will be afraid of following
us.'

The conservatory led out of the drawing-room, and was lighted by coloured
lamps that gave a pretty effect; it was full of choice flowers, and two
or three cane chairs filled up the centre. It was not so warm as the
drawing-room, certainly, but it was pleasant to sit there in the dim
perfumed atmosphere and peep through the open window at the firelight.
Miss Darrell followed us to the window with a discontented air.

'I hope you are not going to stay there many minutes, Gladys: you will
certainly give yourself and Miss Garston a bad cold if you do. There is
something wrong with the warming-apparatus, and Giles says it will be
some days before it will be properly warmed. I thought I told you so this
morning.'

'I do not think Miss Garston will take cold, Etta, and it is very
pleasant here'; but, though Miss Darrell retreated from the window, I
think we all felt as much constrained as though she had joined us, for
not a word could escape her ears if she chose to listen.

But this fact did not seem to daunt Lady Betty for long, for she soon
began chattering volubly to us both.

'I am not so cross now as I was,' she said frankly. 'I am afraid I was
very rude to Mr. Tudor at dinner; but what could I do when Etta was so
impertinent? No, she is not there, Gladys; she has gone out of the room,
looking as cross as possible. But what do you think she said to me?'

'Never mind telling us what she said, dear,' returned Miss Hamilton
soothingly.

'Oh, but I want to tell Miss Garston: she looks dreadfully curious, and
I do not like her to think me cross for nothing. I am not like that, am
I, Gladys? Well, just before we went in to dinner, she begged me in a
whisper not to talk quite so much to Mr. Tudor as I had done last time.
Now, what do you want, Leah?' pulling herself up rather abruptly.

'I have only brought you some shawls, Lady Betty, as Miss Darrell says
the conservatory is so cold. She has told Thornton to mention to his
master when he takes in the coffee that Miss Gladys is sitting here, and
she hopes he will forbid it.'

'You can take away the shawls, Leah,' returned Miss Hamilton quietly, but
there was a scornful look on her pale face as she spoke. 'We are not
going to remain here, since Miss Darrell is so anxious about our health.
Shall we come in, Miss Garston? Perhaps it is a trifle chilly here.' And,
seeing how the wind blew, and that Miss Darrell was determined to have
her way in the matter, I acquiesced silently; but I was not a bit
surprised to see Lady Betty stamp her little foot as she followed us.

Miss Darrell was lying back on a velvet lounge, and welcomed us with
a provoking smile.

'I thought the threat of telling Giles would bring you in, Gladys,' she
said, laughing. 'What a foolish child you are to be so reckless of your
health! Every one knows Gladys is delicate,' she went on, turning to me;
'everything gives her cold. Giles has been obliged to forbid her
attending evening service this winter: you were terribly rebellious about
it, were you not, my dear? but of course Giles had his way. No one in
this house ventures to disobey him.'

Miss Hamilton did not answer: she was standing looking into the fire, and
her lips were set firmly as though nothing would make her unclose them.

'Oh, do sit down,' continued her cousin pettishly; 'it gives one such an
uncomfortable feeling when a tall person stands like a statue before
one.' And as Miss Hamilton quietly seated herself, she went on, 'Don't
you think religious people are far more self-willed than worldly ones,
Miss Garston? I daresay you are self-willed yourself. Gladys made as much
fuss about giving up evening service as though her salvation depended on
her going twice or three times a day. "What is to prevent you reading the
service in your own room?" I used to say to her. "It cannot be your duty
to disobey your brother and make yourself ill."'

'The illness lay in your own imagination, Etta,' observed Miss Hamilton
coldly. 'Giles would never have found out my chest was delicate if you
had not told him so.'

Miss Darrell gave her favourite little shrug, and inspected her rings.

'See what thanks I get for my cousinly care,' she said good-humouredly.
'I suppose, Gladys, you were vexed with me for telling him that you were
working yourself to death,--that the close air of the schoolroom made
your head ache, and that so much singing was too much for your strength.'

'If you please, Etta, we will talk about some other subject; my health,
or want of health, will not interest Miss Garston.' She spoke with
dignity, and then, turning to me with a winning smile, 'Giles has told me
about your singing. Will you be good enough to sing something to us? It
would be a great pleasure: both Lady Betty and I are so fond of music.'

'Miss Garston looks very tired, Gladys; it is almost selfish to ask her,'
observed Miss Darrell softly; and then I knew that Miss Hamilton's
request did not please her.

I had vowed to myself that no amount of pressing should induce me to sing
that evening, but I could not have refused that gentle solicitation. As I
unbuttoned my gloves and took my place at the grand piano, I determined
that I would sing anything and everything that Miss Hamilton wished; Miss
Darrell should not silence me; and with this resolve hot on me I
commenced the opening bars of 'The Lost Chord,' and before I had finished
the song Miss Hamilton had crept into the corner beside me, and remained
there as motionless as though my singing had turned her into stone.




CHAPTER XVI

GLADYS


I do not know how the majority of people feel when they sing, but with me
the love of music was almost a passion. I could forget my audience in a
moment, and would be scarcely aware if the room were empty or crowded.

For example, on this evening I had no idea that the gentlemen had entered
the room, and the first intimation of the fact was conveyed to me by
hearing a 'Bravo!' uttered by Mr. Hamilton under his breath.

'But you must not leave off,' he went on, quite earnestly. 'I want you to
treat us as you treat poor Phoebe Locke, and sing one song after another
until you are tired.'

I was about to refuse this request very civilly but decidedly, for I
had no notion of obeying such an arbitrary command, when Miss Hamilton
touched my arm.

'Oh, do please go on singing as Giles says: it is such a pleasure to hear
you.' And after this I could no longer refuse.

So I sang one song after another, chiefly from memory, and sometimes I
could hear a soft clapping of hands, and sometimes there was breathless
silence, and a curious feeling came over me as I sang. I thought that the
only person to whom I was singing was Miss Hamilton, and that I was
pleading with her to tell me the reason of her sadness, and why there was
such a weary, hopeless look in her eyes, when the world was so young with
her and the God-given gift of beauty was hers.

I was singing as though she and I were alone in the room, when Max
suddenly whispered in my ear, 'That will do, Ursula,' and as soon as the
verse concluded I left off. But before I could rise Miss Darrell was
beside us.

'Oh, thank you so much, Miss Garston; you are very amiable to sing so
long. Giles was certainly loud in your praises, but I was hardly prepared
for such a treat. Why, Gladys dear, have you been crying? What an
impressionable child you are! Miss Garston has not contrived to draw
tears from my eyes.'

But, without making any reply, Miss Hamilton quietly left the room. Were
her eyes wet, I wonder? Was that why Max stopped me? Did he want to
shield her from her cousin's sharp scrutiny? If so, he failed.

'It is such a pity Gladys is so foolishly sensitive,' she went on,
addressing Uncle Max: 'natures of this sort are quite unfit for the stern
duties of life. I am quite uneasy about her sometimes, am I not, Giles?
Her spirits are so uneven, and she has so little strength. Parochial work
nearly killed her, Mr. Cunliffe. You said yourself how ill she looked in
the summer.'

'True; but I never thought the work hurt her,' replied Max, rather
bluntly. 'I think it was a mistake for Miss Hamilton to give up all her
duties; occupation is good for every one.'

'That is my opinion,' observed Mr. Hamilton. 'Etta is always making a
fuss about Gladys's health, but I tell her there is not the least reason
for alarm; many people not otherwise delicate take cold easily. It is
true I advised her to give up evening service for a few weeks until she
got stronger.'

'Indeed!' And here Max looked a little perplexed. 'I thought you told me,
Miss Darrell, that your cousin found our service too long and wearisome,
and this was the reason she stayed away.'

'Oh no; you must have misunderstood me,' returned Miss Darrell, flushing
a little. 'Gladys may have said she liked a shorter sermon in the
evening, but that was hardly her reason for staying away; at least--'

'Of course not. What nonsense you talk, Etta!' observed Mr. Hamilton
impatiently. 'You know what a trouble I had to coax Gladys to stay at
home; she was rather obstinate about it,--as girls are,--but I asked her
as a special favour to myself to remain.'

Max's face cleared up surprisingly, and as Miss Hamilton at that moment
re-entered the room, he accosted her almost eagerly.

'Miss Hamilton, we have been talking about you in your absence; your
brother and I have been agreeing that it is really a great pity that you
should have given up all your parish duties; it is a little hard on us
all, is it not, Tudor? Your brother declares occupation will do you good.
Now, I am sure your cousin will not have the slightest objection to give
up your old class, and she can take Miss Matthews's, and then I shall
have two good workers instead of one.'

For an instant Miss Hamilton hesitated; her face relaxed, and she looked
at Max a little wistfully; but Miss Darrell interposed in her sprightly
way:

'Do as you like, Gladys dear. Mr. Cunliffe will be too glad of your help,
I am sure, as he sees how much you wish it. We all think you are fretting
after your old scholars; home duties are not exciting enough, and even
Giles notices how dull you are. Oh, you shall have my class with
pleasure; anything to see you happy, love. Shall we make the exchange
to-morrow?'

'No, thank you, Etta; I think things had better be as they are.' And
Miss Hamilton walked away proudly, and spoke to Mr. Tudor; the sudden
brightness in her face had dimmed, and I was near enough to see that her
hand trembled.

'There, you see,' observed Miss Darrell complacently. 'I have done my
best to persuade her in public and private to amuse herself and not give
way to her feelings of lassitude. "Do a little, but not much," I have
often said to her; but with Gladys it must be all or none.'

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