Book: Uncle Max

R >> Rosa Nouchette Carey >> Uncle Max




'One can understand Mr. Hamilton's feelings so well. You are right, Mrs.
Maberley: he is much to be pitied.'

'Yes, and, to make matters worse, Gladys was very ill, and refused to see
or speak to him in her illness. I believe the breach is healed between
them now; but she is not all that a sister ought to be to him.'

'Perhaps Miss Darrell usurps her place,' I replied a little incautiously,
but I saw my mistake at once. Mrs. Maberley was evidently a devout
believer in Miss Darrell's merits.

'Oh, my dear, you must not say such things. Mr. Hamilton has told me over
and over again that he does not know how he would have got through that
miserable time but for his cousin Etta's kindness. She did everything for
him, and nursed Gladys in her illness. I am sure she would have died but
for Etta. Dear me! Flossie looks restless. I do believe she hears her
master's step outside.--Yes, Flossie, that is his knock.--But I wonder
whom he is bringing in with him.' And Mrs. Maberley straightened herself
and smoothed the folds of her satin gown, and tried to look as usual,
though there were tears in her bright eyes and her hands were a little
tremulous. I do not know why I felt so sure that it would be Mr.
Hamilton, but I was not at all surprised when he followed the tall old
colonel into the room. But he certainly looked astonished when he saw me.

'Miss Garston!' he ejaculated, darting one of his keen looks at me. But
when he had shaken hands he sat down by Mrs. Maberley somewhat silently.

I was rather sorry to see Mr. Hamilton, for our talk had unsettled me
and made me feel nervous in his presence. I was afraid he would read
something from our faces. And I certainly saw him look at me more than
once, as though something had aroused his suspicion. For the first time
I was unwilling to encounter one of those straight glances. I felt
guilty, as though I must avoid his eyes, but all the more I felt he
was watching me.

I was anxious to put a stop to this uncomfortable state of things, but
I could not silence Mrs. Maberley, who was relating to her husband the
story of poor Flossie's accident. My presence of mind and skill were so
much lauded, and the colonel said so many civil things, that I felt
myself getting hotter every moment.

Mr. Hamilton came at last to my relief.

'I think Miss Garston resembles me in one thing, colonel. She hates to be
thanked for doing her duty. You will drive her away if you say any more
about Flossie. Oh, I thought so,' as I stretched out my hand for my hat:
'I thought I interpreted that look aright. Well, I must be going too. I
only brought him back safe to you, Mrs. Maberley.--By the bye, colonel,
I shall tell Gladys that you have never asked after her.'

'My sweetheart, Gladys! To be sure I have not. Well, how is she, my dear
fellow?'

'As obstinate as ever, colonel. Came downstairs to-day, and declares she
will go to early service to-morrow, because it will be Christmas Day,
and she has never missed yet. Women are kittle cattle to manage. Now,
Miss Garston, if you are ready, I will see you a little on your way.'

I knew it was no good to remonstrate, so I held my peace, Mrs. Maberley
kissed me quite affectionately, and begged me to come whenever I had an
hour to spare.

'I wish I had known you before, my dear. But there, we all make mistakes
sometimes.' And she patted me on the shoulder. 'Edbrooke, will you see
them out? He will be your friend for ever, after your goodness to
Flossie: won't you, Edbrooke?'

I never felt so afraid of Mr. Hamilton before. I was wondering what I
should say to him, and hoping that he had not noticed my nervousness,
when he startled me excessively by saying,--

'What makes you look so odd this evening? You are not a bit yourself,
Miss Garston. Come! I shall expect you to confess. Mrs. Maberley is an
old friend of mine, and I am very much attached to her. I should like to
know what you and she have been talking about?'

It was too dark for Mr. Hamilton to see my face, so I answered a little
flippantly,--

'I daresay you would like to know. Women are certainly not much more
curious than men, after all.'

'Oh, as to that, I am not a bit curious,' was the contradictory answer.
'But all the same I intend to know. So you may as well make a clean
breast of it.'

'But--but you have no right to be so inquisitive, Mr. Hamilton.'

'Again I say I am not inquisitive, but I mean to know this. Mrs. Maberley
had been crying. I could see the tears in her eyes. You looked inclined
to cry too, Miss Garston. Now,'--after a moment's hesitation, as though
he found speech rather difficult,--'I know the dear old lady has only one
fault. She is rather too fond of gossiping about her neighbours, though
she does it in the kindest manner. May I ask if her talk this evening
at all related to a family not a hundred miles away from Maplehurst?'

His voice sounded hard and satirical in the darkness. 'I wish you would
not ask me such a question, Mr. Hamilton,' I returned, much distressed.
'It was not my fault: I did not wish--' But he interrupted me.

'Of course; I knew it. When am I ever deceived by a face or manner? Not
by yours, certainly. So my good old friend told you about that miserable
affair. I wish she had held her tongue a little longer. I wish--'

But I burst out, full of remorse,--

'Oh, Mr. Hamilton, I am so sorry! I have no right to know, but indeed
I was hardly to blame.'

'Who says you are to blame?' he returned, so harshly that I remained
silent: 'it is no fault of yours if people will not be silent. But all
the same I am sorry that you know; your opinion of me is quite changed
now, eh? You think me a hard-hearted taskmaster of a brother. Well, it
does not matter: Gladys would have made you believe that in time.'

His voice was so full of concentrated bitterness that I longed to say
something consoling; in his own fashion he had been kind to me, and I
did not wish to misjudge him.

'I know your sister Gladys sufficiently to be sure that she will never
act ungenerously by her brother,' I returned hotly. 'Mr. Hamilton, you
need not say such things: it is not for me to judge.'

'But all the same you will judge,' he replied moodily. 'Oh, I know how
you good women cling together: you know nothing of a man's nature; you
cannot estimate his difficulties; because he has not got your sweet
nature, because he cannot bear insolence patiently--Oh,' with an
abruptness that was almost rude but for the concealed pain in his voice,
'I am not going to excuse myself to you: why should I? I have only to
account to my Maker and my own conscience,' And he was actually walking
off in the darkness, for we were now in sight of the parlour window, but
I called him back so earnestly that he could not refuse to obey.

'Mr. Hamilton, pray do not leave me like this; it makes me unhappy. Do
you know it is Christmas Eve?'

'Well, what of that?' with a short laugh.

'People ought not to quarrel and be disagreeable to each other on
Christmas Eve.'

'I am afraid, Miss Garston, that I do feel intensely disagreeable this
evening.'

'Yes, but you must try and forgive me all the same. I could not quite
help myself; but indeed I do not mean to judge you or any one, and I
should like you to shake hands.'

'There, then,' with a decidedly hearty grasp; and then, without releasing
me, 'So you don't think so very badly of me, after all?'

'I am very sorry for you,' was my prudent answer; 'I think you have had
a great deal to bear. Good-night, Mr. Hamilton.'

'Wait a minute; you have not answered my question. You must not have
it all your own way. I repeat, has Mrs. Maberley given you a very bad
impression of my character?'

'Certainly not; oh, she spoke most kindly; I should not have been afraid
if you had heard the whole of our conversation.'

'I wish I had heard it.'

'She made me feel very sorry for you all. Oh, what trouble there is in
the world, Mr. Hamilton! It does seem so blind and foolish to sit in
judgment on other people! how can we know their trials and temptations?'

'That is spoken like a sensible woman. Try to keep a good opinion of us,
Miss Garston: we shall be the better for your friendship. Well, so we are
friends again, and this little misunderstanding is healed: so much the
better; I should hate to quarrel with you. Now run in out of the cold.'

I hastened to obey him, but he stood at the gate until I had entered
the house; his voice and manner had quite changed during the last few
minutes, and had become strangely gentle, reminding me of his sister
Gladys's voice. What a singular man he was!--and yet I felt sorry for
him. 'I wonder if he is really to blame!' I thought, as I opened the
parlour door.

The lamp was alight; the fire burnt ruddily; Tinker was stretched on the
rug as usual, but something else was on the rug too.

A girlish figure in a dark tweed gown was huddled up before the grate; a
head, with short thick locks of hair tossing roughly on her neck, turned
quickly at my entrance.

'Jill!'

'Yes, it is I, Ursie dear! Oh, you darling bear, what a time you have
been!' Two strong arms pulled me down in the usual fashion, and a hot
cheek was pressed lovingly against mine.

'Oh, Jill, Jill, what does this mean?' I exclaimed, in utter amazement;
but for a long time Jill only laughed and hugged me, and there was no
getting an answer to my question.




CHAPTER XXI

'I RAN AWAY, THEN!'


'Now, Jill,' I demanded, at last, taking her by the shoulders, 'I insist
on knowing what this means.' And when I spoke in that tone Jill always
obeyed me at once.

So she shook her untidy mane, and looked at me with eyes that were
brimful of fun and naughtiness.

'Very well, Ursie dear, if you will know, you shall; but first sit down
in that cosy-looking chair, and I will put my elbows in your lap, in the
dear old fashion, and then we can talk nicely. What a snug little room
this is! it looked just delicious when I came in, and Mrs. Barton made me
such a nice cup of tea, and then I went upstairs to look at your bedroom,
and there was a beautiful fire there, and Mrs. Barton says you always
have one: so you are not so poor and miserable, after all.'

'I am not at all poor, thank you; and I work so hard that I think I
deserve to be warm and comfortable. And when people live alone, a fire
is a nice, cheerful companion. But this is not answering my question,
Jocelyn.'

Now Jill hated me to call her Jocelyn, so she made a face at me, and
said, in rather a grumpy voice, 'Well, I ran away, then!'

'Ran away from Hyde Park Gate! Were you mad, Jill?'

'Oh dear, no,--not from Hyde Park Gate. Did you not get my letter? Oh,
I remember, I forgot to post it: it is in my blotting-case now. Then you
did not know that Sara has scarlatina?'

'No, indeed; but I am very sorry to hear it.'

'Oh, she is nearly well now; but no one knows how she caught it. There
was a terrible fuss when Dr. Armstrong pronounced it scarlatina. Mamma
made father take lodgings at Brighton at once, and Fraeulein and I were
packed off there at a minute's notice. You can fancy what my life has
been for the last ten days, mewed up in a dull, ugly parlour with that
old cat.'

'My poor, dear Jill! But why did you not write to me, and I would have
come over at once?'

'So I did write, twice, and I do believe that horrid creature never
posted my letters,--I daresay they are in her pocket now,--and I could
not get out by myself until to-day. Now just think, Ursula, what sort of
a Christmas Day I was likely to have; and then you never came to me, and
I got desperate; so when Fraeulein said she had one of her headaches,' and
here Jill made a comical grimace, 'I just made up my mind to take French
leave, and spend Christmas Day with you, and here I am; and scold me if
you dare, and I will hug you to death.' And, indeed, Jill's powerful
young arms were quite capable of fulfilling her threat.

'It is not for me to scold you,' I replied quietly; 'but I am afraid
you will get into trouble for this piece of recklessness. Think how
frightened poor Fraeulein will be when she misses you.'

'Poor Fraeulein, indeed! a deceitful creature like that. Why, Ursula, what
do you think? I just peeped into her room to be sure that she was safe
and it was all dark: she was not there at all. Oh, oh, my lady, I said to
myself, so that is your little game, is it? And, just to be certain, I
rang at the bell at 37 Brunswick Place, where the Schumackers live, and
asked the servant if Fraeulein Hennig was still there, and when I heard
that she was having tea I nearly laughed in his face. What do you think
of that for an instructress of youth,--getting up the excuse of a
headache, and leaving me over those stupid lessons, while she paid a
visit on her own account? Does she not deserve a thorough good fright
as a punishment?'

'I think Aunt Philippa ought to be undeceived. I have never trusted
Fraeulein Hennig since you told me she shut herself up in her bedroom to
read novels. Jill, my dear, you have acted very wrongly, and I am afraid
we shall all get into trouble over this school-girl trick of yours. I
must think what is best to be done under the circumstances.'

'You may think as much as you like,' returned Jill obstinately, 'but I
have come to spend my Christmas Day with you, and nothing will induce me
to go back to Fraeulein: I shall murder her if I do. Now, Ursie darling,'
in a coaxing voice, 'do be nice, and make much of me. You can't think how
delicious it is to see your face again; it is such a dear face, and I
like it ever so much better than Sara's and Lesbia's.'

I was unable to reply to this flattering speech, for Jill suddenly put up
her hand--I noticed it was a little inky--and said, 'Hark, there is some
one coming up to the door?' and for the moment we both believed that it
was Fraeulein; but, to Jill's immense relief, it was only Mr. Tudor, with
a great bough of holly in his hand.

'We have just finished at the church, and I have brought you this, Miss
Garston,' he began, and then he stopped, and said, 'Miss Jocelyn here!'
in a tone of extreme surprise, and Jill got up rather awkwardly and shook
hands with him. I could see that she felt shy and uncomfortable. I was
very pleased to see Mr. Tudor, for I knew he would help us in this
emergency. Jill was such a child, in spite of her womanly proportions,
that I was sure that her escapade would not seriously shock him; he was
young enough himself to have a fellow-feeling for her; and I was not
wrong. Mr. Tudor looked decidedly amused when I told him Jill had taken
French leave. He tried to look grave until I had finished, but the effort
was too much for him, and he burst out laughing.

Jill, who was looking very sulky, was so charmed by his merriment that
she began to laugh too, and we were all as cheerful as possible until I
called them to order, and asked Mr. Tudor if he would send off a telegram
at once.

'A telegram! Oh, Ursula!' And Jill's dimples disappeared like magic.

'My dear, Fraeulein would not have a moment's sleep to-night if she did not
know you were safe. Do not be afraid, Jill: we will spend our Christmas
Day together, in spite of all the Fraeuleins in the world.' And then I
wrote off the telegram, and a short note, and gave them to Mr. Tudor. The
telegram was necessarily brief:

'Jocelyn safe with me. Will not return until Thursday. Write to explain.'

The note was more explanatory.

I apologised profusely to Fraeulein for her pupil's naughtiness, but
begged her to say nothing to her mother, as I would communicate myself
with Aunt Philippa and let her know what had happened. Under the
circumstances I thought it better to keep Jocelyn with me over Christmas
Day, until I heard from Aunt Philippa. But she might depend on my
bringing her back myself.

'It is far too polite,' growled Jill, who had been reading the letter
over my shoulder. 'How can you cringe so to that creature?'

'I consider it a masterpiece of diplomacy,' observed Mr. Tudor, as I
handed it for his inspection. 'Civil words pay best in the long-run; and
you know it was very naughty to run away, Miss Jocelyn.'

'It was nothing of the kind,' returned Jill rebelliously. 'And I would do
it again to-morrow. I am more than sixteen; I am not a child now, and I
have a right to come and see Ursula if I like.' And Jill threw back her
head, and the colour came into her face, and she looked so handsome that
I was not surprised to see Mr. Tudor regard her attentively. I never saw
a face so capable of varying expression as Jill's.

Jill declared she was glad when Mr. Tudor was gone. But I think she liked
him very well on the whole; and, indeed, no one could dislike such a
bright, kind-hearted fellow. As soon as he had left the house I had to
call a council. It was quite certain my bed would not hold Jill; so, at
Mrs. Barton's suggestion, some spare mattresses were dragged in my room
and a bed made up on the floor. Jill voted this delicious; nothing could
have pleased her more, and she was so talkative and excited that I had
the greatest trouble in coaxing her to be quiet and let me go to sleep:
in fact, I had to feign sleep to make her hold her tongue.

But I was much too restless to sleep, and once when I crept out of bed to
replenish the fire I stood still for a moment to look at Jill.

She was sleeping as placidly as an infant in its cradle, her short black
locks pushed back from her face, and one arm stretched on the coverlet.
I was surprised to see how fine Jill's face really was. The ugly
duckling, as Uncle Brian called her, was fast changing into a swan. At
present she was too big and undeveloped for grace; her awkward manners
and angularities made people think her rough and uncouth. 'I expect she
will eclipse Sara's commonplace prettiness some day; but, poor child,
no one understands her,' I sighed, and as I tucked her up more warmly,
with a kiss, Jill's sleepy arms found their way to my neck and held me
there. 'Is not it delicious, Ursie dear?' she murmured drowsily.

I was glad to see that Miss Hamilton was at the early service. She looked
pale and delicate, but there was a brighter look upon her face when she
nodded to me in the porch. Her brother was putting her into a fly, and
Miss Darrell and Lady Betty followed.

I was rather surprised to see him close the door after them and step back
into the porch. And the next moment he joined us.

'Well, Miss Garston,' holding out his hand, with a friendly smile, 'you
see Gladys contrived to have her way. A happy Christmas to you! But I see
you are not alone,' looking rather inquisitively at Jill, who looked very
big and shy as usual.

'I think you have heard of my cousin Jocelyn?' I returned, without
entering into any further particulars. I should have been sorry for
Jill's escapade to reach Mr. Hamilton's ears. But he shook hands with
her at once, and said, very pleasantly, that he had heard of her from
Mr. Cunliffe. And then, after a few more words, we parted.

Mr. Hamilton was unusually genial this morning. There was nothing in his
manner to recall our stormy interview on the previous evening. Perhaps he
wished to efface the recollection from my memory, for there was something
significant in his smile, as though we perfectly understood each other.

I had lain awake for a long time thinking over Mrs. Maberley's talk and
that uncomfortable walk from Maplehurst. Mr. Hamilton's voice and words
haunted me; the suppressed irritation and pain that almost mastered him,
and how he had flung away from me in the darkness.

I was glad to remember that I had called him back and spoken a
conciliatory word. No doubt he had been to blame. I could imagine him
hard and bitter to a fault. But he had suffered; there were lines upon
his face that had been traced by no common experience. No, it was not for
me to judge him. As he said, what could I know of a man's nature? And I
was still more glad when I saw Mr. Hamilton in the church porch, and knew
that the day's harmony was not disturbed, and that there was peace
between us. His bright, satisfied smile made me feel more cheerful.

'What a strange-looking man!' observed Jill, in rather a grumbling voice,
as we walked up the hill. 'Is that Mr. Hamilton? I thought he was young;
but he is quite old, Ursula.'

'No, dear, not more than three-or four-and-thirty, Uncle Max says.'

'Well, I call that old,' returned Jill, with the obstinacy of sixteen.
'He is an old bachelor, too, for of course nobody wants to marry him; he
is too ugly.'

'Oh, Jill, how absurd you are! Mr. Hamilton is not ugly at all. You will
soon get used to his face. It is only rather peculiar.' And I quite meant
what I said, for I had got used to it myself.

'Humph!' observed Jill significantly. But she did not explain the meaning
of her satirical smile, and I proceeded to call her attention to the
hoar-frost that lay on the cottage roof, and the beauty of the clear
winter sky. 'It is a glorious Christmas morning,' I finished.

We had a very merry breakfast, for Jill was almost wild with spirits, and
then we went to church again. Gladys was in her usual place, and looked
round at me with a smile as I entered. When the service was over, I went
to the Marshalls', accompanied by Jill, who announced her intention of
not letting me out of her sight, for I had to preside over the children's
Christmas dinner, and to look after my patient. We visited Robin next,
and then went on to the Lockes', and Jill sat open-eyed and breathless
in a corner of the room as I sang carols to Phoebe in the twilight.

She rose reluctantly when I put my hand on her shoulder and told her
that we must hurry back to the cottage to make ourselves smart for the
evening. Jill seldom troubled her head about such sublunary affairs as
dress.

'I shall be obliged to wear my old tweed,' she said contentedly. 'I have
only to smooth my hair, and then I shall be ready.' And she grumbled not
a little when I insisted on arranging a beautiful spray of holly as a
breast-knot, and twisting some very handsome coral beads that Charlie had
given me round her neck. Jill always looked better for a touch of warm
colour: the dark-red berries just suited her brown skin. 'You will do
better now,' I said, pushing her away gently, 'so you need not pout and
hunch your shoulders. Have I not told you that it is your duty to make
the best of yourself?--we cannot be all handsome, but we need not offend
our neighbours' eyes.' But, as usual, Jill turned a deaf ear to my
philosophy.

The study looked very cosy when we entered it, and Uncle Max gave us a
warm welcome. To be sure, he shook his head at Jill, and told her that he
was afraid she was a naughty girl, but both he and Mr. Tudor prudently
refrained from teasing her on the subject of her escapade. On the
contrary, they treated her with profound respect, as though she were
a grown-up, sensible young lady, and this answered with Jill. She grew
bright and animated, forgot her shyness, and talked in her quaint racy
manner. I could see that Mr. Tudor was much taken with her. She was so
different from the stereotyped young lady; her cleverness and originality
amused him; and I am sure Uncle Max was equally surprised and pleased.

I could see Max was making strenuous efforts to be cheerful, but every
now and then he relapsed into gravity. After dinner I drew him aside a
moment to speak to him about Jill: to my relief, he promised to be the
bearer of a letter to Aunt Philippa.

'I want to go up to town for a day or two,' he said, 'and I may as well
do this business for you. How happy the child looks, Ursula! I wish you
could keep her a little longer. She is very much improved. I had no idea
that there was so much in her; she will be far more attractive than Sara
when she has developed a moderate amount of vanity.' And I fully endorsed
this opinion.

We went home early, for I could see Max was very tired, but both he and
Mr. Tudor insisted on escorting us. It was a beautiful starlight night,
clear and frosty: our footsteps rang crisply on the ground: not a breath
of wind stirred the skeleton branches that stretched above our heads: a
solemn peacefulness seemed to close us round. Jill's mirthful laugh quite
startled the echoes. She and Mr. Tudor were following very slowly. Once
or twice we stood still and waited for them, but Mr. Tudor was in the
middle of some amusing story, and so they took no notice of us.

I told Max about my visit to Mrs. Maberley, and of the conversation
that had taken place between us. I thought he started a little when
I mentioned Eric Hamilton's name.

'What a pity!' he said quietly. 'I had hoped she would have told you
herself. I was waiting for her to do so.'

'But, Max, surely you might have told me?'

'Who?--I? I should not have presumed. You must remember that I was in
Hamilton's confidence, and,' after a moment's hesitation, 'in hers too.
Ursula,' with a sudden passionate inflexion in his voice, 'you have no
idea how she loved that poor boy, and how she suffered: it nearly killed
her. Now you know why I say that she is lonely and wants a friend.' 'But
she has you, Max,' I exclaimed involuntarily, for I knew what he must
have been to them in their trouble; Max could be as tender as a woman;
but he started aside as though I had struck him; and his voice was quite
changed as he answered me.

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