Book: Uncle Max

R >> Rosa Nouchette Carey >> Uncle Max




'There was no love between them. Eric detested Etta, and on her side I
know she disliked him. Eric never would tell me the reason; he was always
hinting that he had found her out, and that she knew it, and that in
consequence she wanted to get rid of him; but I thought it was all fancy
on the poor boy's part, and I used to laugh at him. I wish I had not
laughed now, for there was doubtless truth in what he said.'

'You were very fond of him, Gladys?' I asked softly, and as I spoke her
face changed, and its expression grew soft and loving in a moment.

'Love him? he was everything to me: he was my twin, you know,--and so
beautiful. Oh, I never saw a man's face so beautiful as his; he had such
bright ways, too, and such a ringing laugh,--I wake up sometimes and
fancy I hear it; and then came his whistle and light footstep springing
up the stairs; but it is only a part of my dream.' She sighed, and went
on: 'He was so fond of me, and used to tell me everything, and he was
never cross to me, however put out and miserable he was; and I know they
made him very miserable. Giles was so strict with him, and would not give
him any liberty, and when Eric rebelled he was cruel to him.'

'Oh, not cruel, surely!' I could not help the involuntary exclamation.
I thought Gladys looked at me a little strangely before she answered:

'It seemed cruel to us; he was very harsh,--oh, terribly harsh; but I
think--nay, I am sure--he has repented of his hardness. I was slow to
forgive him: perhaps it would be more true to say I have not wholly
forgiven him yet; but I know now that he has suffered, that he would undo
a great deal of the past if he could, and this makes me more merciful.
Sometimes in my heart I feel quite sorry for Giles.'




CHAPTER XXIII

THE MYSTERY AT GLADWYN


Just then Leah entered the room to replenish the fire, and Gladys dropped
my hand hastily and took up a screen.

'When my brother comes in we will have tea, Leah,' she said quickly.
'Where is Thornton, that he does not come in to do this?'

'I was passing through the hall, and I thought I would have a look at the
fire, ma'am,' observed Leah, as she stooped to throw on a log. As she did
so, I saw her take a furtive look at us both,--it gave me an unpleasant
feeling,--and a moment afterwards she said in a soft, civil voice,--

'There is no reason why Thornton should not bring tea now, if you like,
ma'am. Master never cares to be waited for, and most likely he will be
late this afternoon. I can walk home with Miss Garston when she is ready.
I am sure my mistress would spare me.'

'We will see about that presently, Leah; when I want Thornton I will ring
for him.' Gladys spoke somewhat haughtily, and Leah left the room without
another word; but I was sorry and troubled in my very heart to see Gladys
motion me to be silent, and then go quickly to the door and open it and
stand there for a moment. Her colour was a little heightened when she
came back to her seat.

'She has gone now, but we must be careful and not speak loudly. I hate
myself for being so suspicious, but I have found out that some of our
conversations have been retailed to Etta. I am afraid Leah listens at the
door. She came in just now to interrupt our talk: it is Thornton's place
to put coals on the drawing-room fire.'

I felt an uncomfortable sensation creeping over me.

'Do you think she even heard us just now?'

'I fear so; and now Etta will know we have been talking about Eric. Oh, I
am glad I am going away! it gets too unbearable. Ursula, I shall write to
you, and you must answer me. Think what a comfort your letters will be to
me; I shall be able to depend on what you say. Lady Betty is so careless,
she knows what Etta is, and yet she will leave her letters about, and
more than once they have not reached me. I am afraid that Leah is a
little unscrupulous in such matters.'

I was aghast as I listened to her, but she changed the subject quickly.

'What were we talking about? Oh, I said Giles was hard; and so he was;
but Eric was faulty too.

'He was very idle; he would not work, and he thought of nothing but his
painting. Giles always says I encouraged him in his idleness; but this is
hardly the truth. I used to try and coax him to open his books, but he
had got this craze for painting, and he spent hours at his easel. I
thought it was a great pity that Giles forced him to take up law; if he
had talent it was surely better for him to be an artist; but Giles and
Etta persisted in ignoring his talent. They called his pictures daubs,
and ridiculed his artistic notions.'

'Do you really believe that he would have worked successfully as an
artist?'

'It is difficult for me to judge. Eric was so young, and had had little
training, and then he only painted in a desultory way: as I have told
you, he was very idle. I think if Giles had been more fatherly with him,
and had remonstrated with him more gently, and showed him the sense and
fitness of things, Eric would have been reasonable; but Etta made so much
mischief between them that things only got worse and worse. Eric was
extravagant; he never managed money well, and he got into debt, and that
made Giles furious, and when Eric lost his temper--for he was very hot
and soon got into a passion--Giles's coolness and hard sneering speeches
nearly drove Eric wild. He came to me one day in the garden looking as
white as a sheet,--that was the day before the cheque was missed,--and
told me, in a conscience-stricken voice, that it was all up between him
and Giles, he had got into a passion and struck Giles across the face.

'"I don't know why he did not knock me down," cried the poor lad. "I
deserved it, for I saw him wince with the pain; but he only took me by
the shoulder--you know how strong Giles is--and turned me out of the room
without saying a word, and there was the mark of my hand across his
cheek. I feel like Cain, I do indeed, Gladys, 'For he that hateth his
brother is a murderer'; and I hate Giles." And the poor boy--he was only
twenty, Ursula--put his head down on my shoulder and sobbed like a child.
If only Giles could have seen him then!'

'Do you know what passed between them?'

'Yes; I heard a little from both of them. Some of Eric's bills had been
opened accidentally by Giles. Etta had told Giles that they were his,
and he had called Eric to account. And then it seems that Eric's affairs
were mixed up with another young man's, Edgar Brown, a very wild young
fellow, with whom Giles had forbidden Eric to associate. They had been
school-fellows, and Giles knew his father, Dr. Brown, and disliked him
much; and it seems that Eric had promised to break with him, and had not
kept his promise; and when Giles called him mean and dishonourable, Eric
had forgotten himself, and struck Giles.

'"It is all over between us, I tell you, Gladys," the poor boy kept
saying. "Giles says he shall take me away from Oxford, and I am to be put
in an attorney's office: he declares I shall ruin him. I cannot stop here
to be tormented and bullied, and I will never go near old Armstrong: why,
the life would be worse than a convict's. I shall just go and enlist, and
then there is a chance of getting rid of this miserable life." But I did
not take much notice of this speech, for I knew Eric had no wish to enter
the army; and certainly he would never do such a rash thing as enlist: he
always declared he would as soon be a shoeblack. What does that look
mean, Ursula?' for I was glancing uneasily at the door. Was it my fancy,
or did I really hear the faint rustle of a dress on the tessellated
pavement of the hall? In another moment Gladys understood, and her voice
dropped into a whisper.

'Come closer to me. I mean to tell you all in spite of them. I will be as
quick as I can, or Giles will be here.

'I never saw Eric in such a state as he was that day. He seemed nearly
beside himself: nothing I could say seemed to give him any comfort. He
shut himself up in his room and refused to eat. He would not admit me for
a long time, but when he at last opened the door I saw that his table was
strewn with papers, and a letter directed to Giles lay beside them.

'We sat down and had a long talk. He told me that he had got into more
difficulties than even Giles suspected. He had been led away by Edgar
Brown. I brought him all the money I had, which was little enough, and
promised him my next quarter's allowance. I remember he spoke again of
enlisting, and said that any life, however hard, would be preferable to
the present one. He could not stay here and be slandered by Etta and
bullied by Giles. He seemed very unhappy, and once he put down his head
upon his arms and groaned. It was just then that I heard a slight
movement outside the door, and opened it just in time to see Leah gliding
round the corner. Ursula, she had heard every word that my poor boy had
said, and it is Leah's evidence that has helped to criminate him.'

'Yes, I see. But did you not put your brother on his guard?'

'No,' she returned sadly, 'I made the grievous mistake of keeping Leah's
eavesdropping to myself. I thought Eric had enough to trouble him,
without adding to his discomfort. I would give much now to have done
otherwise.

'I stayed up late with him, and did not leave him until he had promised
to go to bed. Giles was still in the study when I went to my room, but he
came up shortly afterwards, for I could hear his footsteps distinctly
passing my door. He must have passed Leah in the passage, for I heard him
say, "You are up late to-night, Leah," but her answer escaped me.

'I can tell you no more on my own evidence; but Eric's account, which I
believe as surely as I am holding your hand now, is this:

'He heard Giles come up to bed, and a sudden impulse prompted him to go
down to the study and place his letter on Giles's desk. It was a very
wild, foolish letter, written under strong excitement. I saw it
afterwards, and felt that it had better not have been written. Among
other things, he informed Giles that he would sooner destroy himself than
go into Armstrong's office, and that he (Giles) had made his life so
bitter to him that he thought he might as well do it: oh, Ursula, of
course it was wrong of him, but indeed he had had terrible provocation.
He had made up his mind to put this letter on Giles's desk before he
slept: so he slipped off his boots, that I might not hear him pass my
door, and crept down to the study. He had his chamber candlestick, as he
feared that he might have some difficulty with the fastenings, for he had
heard Giles put up the chain and bell. All our doors on that floor have
chains and bells; it is one of Giles's fads. To his great surprise,
the door was ajar, and when he put down the candle on the table he had
a passing fancy that the thick curtains that were drawn over one of the
windows moved slightly, as though from a draught of air. He blamed
himself afterwards that he had not gone up to the window and examined
it, but in his perturbed mood he did not take much notice; but he was
certainly startled when he turned round to see Leah, in her dark
dressing-gown, standing in the threshold watching him with a queer look
in her eyes. There was something in her expression that made him feel
uneasy.

'"I thought it was thieves," she said, and now she looked not at him, but
across at the curtain. "What are you doing with master's papers, Mr.
Eric?"

'"Mind your own business," returned Eric sulkily: "do you think I am
going to account to you for my actions?" And he took up his candlestick
and marched off.'

'And he left that woman in possession?'

'Yes,' returned Gladys in a peculiar tone, and then she hurried on:
'The next morning Giles missed a cheque for a large amount that he had
received the previous night and placed in one of the compartments of
his desk, and in its place he found Eric's letter. Do you notice the
discrepancy here? Eric vowed to me that he had placed the letter on the
desk, that he never dreamt of opening it, that he always believed Giles
kept it locked, that if Giles had been careless and left the key in it
he knew nothing about it. His business to the study was to put his letter
where Giles would be likely to find it on entering the room. Ursula, how
did that letter get into the desk?

'We were all summoned to the study when the cheque was missed. Etta
fetched me. She said very little, and looked unusually pale. Giles was in
a terrible state of anger, she informed me, and Leah was speaking to him.

'Alas! she had been speaking to some purpose. I found Eric almost dumb
with fury. Giles had refused to believe his assertion of innocence, and
he had no proof. Leah's statement had been overwhelming, and bore the
outward stamp of veracity.

'She told her master that, thinking she heard a noise, and being fearful
of thieves, she had crept down in her dressing-gown to the study, and, to
her horror, had seen Mr. Eric with his hand in his brother's desk, and
she could take her oath that he put some paper or other in his pocket.
She had not liked to disturb her master, not knowing that there was money
in the case.

'Ursula, I cannot tell you any more that passed. That woman had
effectually blackened my poor boy's honour. No one believed his word,
though he swore that he was innocent. I heard high words pass between
the brothers. I know Giles called Eric a liar and a thief, and Eric
rushed at him like a madman, and then I fainted. When I recovered I
found Lady Betty crying over me and Leah rubbing my hands. No one else
was there. Eric had dashed up to his room, and Giles and Etta were in
the drawing-room. I told Leah to go out of my sight, for I hated her; and
I felt I did hate her. And when she left us alone I managed, with Lady
Betty's help, to crawl up to Eric's room. But, though we heard him raging
about it, he would not admit us. So I went and lay down on my bed and
slept from sheer grief and exhaustion.

'When I woke from that stupor,--for it was more stupor than sleep,--it
was late in the afternoon. I shall always believe the wine Leah gave me
was drugged. How I wish I had dashed the glass away from my lips! But I
was weak, and she had compelled me to drink it.

'Lady Betty was still sitting by me. She seemed half frightened by my
long sleep. She said Eric had come in and had kissed me, but very
lightly, so as not to disturb me. And she thought there were tears
in his eyes as he went out. Ursula, I have never seen him since. He
left the house almost immediately afterwards, but no one saw him go. By
some strange oversight Giles's telegram to the London Bank to stop the
cheque did not reach them in time. And yet Etta went herself to the
telegraph-office. As you may have perhaps heard, a tall fair young man,
with a light moustache, cashed the cheque early in the afternoon. Yes, I
know, Ursula, the circumstantial evidence is rather strong just here. I
am quite aware that it was possible for Eric after leaving our house to
be in London at the time mentioned, but no one can prove that it was
Eric.

'Edgar Brown is tall and fair, and there are plenty of young men
answering to that description; and I maintain, and shall maintain to my
dying day,--and I am sure Mr. Cunliffe agrees with me,--that it was not
Eric who presented that cheque. The clerk told Giles that the young man
had a scar across his cheek and a slight cut, though he was decidedly
good-looking. But Giles refused to believe this. He says the clerk made
a mistake about the last.

'The next morning I received a letter from Eric, written at the Ship
Hotel, Brighton, containing the exact particulars that I have given, and
reiterating in the most solemn way that he was perfectly innocent of the
shameful crime laid to his charge.

'"You will believe me, Gladys, I know," he went on. "You will not let my
enemies blacken my memory if you can help it. If I could only be on the
spot to clear up the mystery; for there is a mystery about the cheque.
But I have sworn never to cross the threshold of Gladwyn again until this
insult is wiped out and Giles believes in my innocence. If we never meet
again, my sweet sister, you will know I loved you as well as I could love
anything; but I was never good and unselfish like you. And I fear--I
greatly fear--that I shall never weather through this." That was all.
The letter ended abruptly.

'The following afternoon a messenger from the Ship asked to see Mr.
Hamilton; and after Giles had been closeted with him for a few minutes he
came out, looking white and scared, with Eric's watch and scarf in his
hands. The man had told him the young gentleman had gone out and had not
returned, and they had been found on the beach, at the extreme end of
Hove, and they feared something had happened to him. He had ordered
dinner at a certain time, but he had not made his appearance. The next
morning they had heard reports in the town that caused them to institute
inquiries. A letter in the pocket of the coat, directed to Eric Hamilton,
Gladwyn, Heathfield, enabled them to communicate with his relatives. And
they had lost no time in doing so. I never saw Giles so terribly upset.
He looked as though he had received a blow. He went to Brighton at once,
and afterwards to London, and employed every means to set our fears at
rest, for a horrible suspicion that he had really made away with himself
was in all our minds.

'I was far too ill to notice all that went on. A fever seemed about me,
and I could not eat or sleep. I think I should have done neither, that my
poor brain must have given way under the shock of my apprehensions, but
for Mr. Cunliffe.

'He was a true friend,--a good Samaritan. He bound up my wounds and
poured in oil and wine of divinest charity. He did not believe that Eric
was guilty of either dishonesty or self-destruction. In his own mind he
was inclined to believe that he wished us to think him dead. It was all
a mystery; but we must wait and pray; and in time he managed to instil
a faint hope into my mind that this might be so.

'Etta was rather kind to me just then. She looked ill and worried, and
seemed taken up with Giles. It was well that he should have some one to
look after his comforts, for there was a breach between us that seemed as
though it would never be healed. I saw that he was irritable and
miserable,--that the thought of Eric robbed him of all peace. But I could
make no effort to console him, for I felt as though my heart was
breaking. I--' And here she hid her face in her hands, and I could see
she was weeping, and I begged her earnestly to say no more, that I quite
understood, and she might be sure of my sympathy with her and Eric. She
kissed me gratefully, and said, 'Yes, I know. I am glad to have told you
all this. Now you understand why I am so grateful to Mr. Cunliffe, why I
am so sorry'--and here her lips quivered--'if I disappoint him. I feel as
though he has given me back Eric from the dead. It is true I doubt
sometimes, when I am ill or gloomy, but generally my faith is strong
enough to withstand Etta's incredulity.'

'Does Miss Darrell believe that he is dead?'

'Yes; and she is so angry if any one doubts the fact. I don't know why
she hates the poor boy so: even Mr. Cunliffe has reproved her for her
want of charity. I think she fears Mr. Cunliffe more than any one, even
Giles: she is always so careful what she says before him.'

'Gladys, I think I hear your brother's voice in the hall, and your cheeks
are quite wet: he will wonder what we have been talking about.'

'I will ring for Thornton, and the tea: he shall find me clearing the
table. Don't offer to help me, Ursula.' And I sat still obediently,
watching her slow, graceful movements about the room in the firelight:
her fair hair shone like a halo of gold, and the dark ruby gown she wore
gathered richer and deeper tints. That beautiful, sad face, how I should
miss it!

It was some little time before Mr. Hamilton entered the room. Thornton
had lighted the candles and arranged the tea-tray, and Gladys had placed
herself at the table.

He testified no surprise at seeing me, but walked to the fire, after
greeting me, and warmed himself.

'They told me you were here,' he said abruptly: 'I was at the cottage
just now. Have you not had your tea? Why, it is quite late, Gladys, and
I want to take Miss Garston away.'

'Is there anything the matter, Mr. Hamilton?' for I was beginning to
understand his manner better now.

'Oh, I have some business for you, that is all,--another patient; but I
will not tell you about it yet: you must have a good meal before you go
out into the cold. I shall ring the bell for some more bread-and-butter;
I know you dined early; and this hot cake will do you no good.' And, as
I saw he meant to be obeyed, I tried to do justice to the delicious brown
bread and butter; but our conversation had taken away my appetite.

He stood over me rather like a sentinel until I had finished.

'Now, then, I may as well tell you. Susan Locke is ill,--acute pneumonia.
I have just been down to see her, and I am afraid it is a sharp attack.
Well, if you are ready, we may as well be going; the neighbour who is
with her seems a poor sort of body. They sent for you, but Mrs. Barton
said you were with Elspeth, and when Kitty went there you were nowhere to
be found.'




CHAPTER XXIV

WEEPING MAY ENDURE FOR A NIGHT


I could not suppress an exclamation when Mr. Hamilton mentioned the name.

Susan Locke! Poor, simple, loving-hearted Susan! What would become of
Phoebe if she died?

Mr. Hamilton seemed to read my thoughts.

'Yes,' he said, looking at me attentively, 'I knew you would be sorry;
Miss Locke was a great favourite of yours. Poor woman! it is a sad
business. I am afraid she is very ill: they ought to have sent for me
before. Now, if you are ready, we will start at once.'

'I will not keep you another minute. Good-bye, Ursula.' And Gladys kissed
me, and quietly followed us to the door. It was snowing fast, and the
ground was already white with the fallen flakes. Mr. Hamilton put up his
umbrella, and stood waiting for me under the shrubs, but a sudden impulse
made me linger.

Gladys was still standing in the porch; her fair hair shone like a halo
in the soft lamplight, her eyes were fixed on the falling snow. I had
said good-bye to her so hastily: I ran back, and kissed her again.

'I wish you were not going, Gladys; I shall miss you so.'

'It is nice to hear that,' she returned gently. 'I shall remember those
words, Ursula. Write to me often; your letters will be my only comfort.
There, Giles is looking impatient; do not keep him waiting, dear.' And
she drew back, and a moment afterwards I heard the door shut behind us.

Mr. Hamilton did not speak as I joined him, and I thought that our walk
would be a silent one, until he said presently, in rather a peculiar
tone,--

'Well, Miss Garston, I suppose I ought to congratulate you for succeeding
where I have failed.' Of course I knew what he meant, but I pretended to
misunderstand him, and he went on,--

'You have won my sister's heart. Gladys cares for few people, but she
seems very fond of you.'

'The feeling is reciprocated, I can assure you.'

'I am glad to know that,' he returned heartily. 'I only wish you
could teach Gladys to be like other girls; she is too young and too
pretty to take such grave views of life; it is unnatural at her age. One
disappointment, however bitter, ought not to cloud her whole existence.
Try to make her see things in a more reasonable light. Gladys is as good
as gold. Of course I know that she is a fine creature; but it is not like
a Christian to mourn over the inevitable in this undisciplined way.'

He spoke with great feeling, and with a gentleness that surprised me.
I felt sure then of his affection for his young sister; I wished Gladys
could have heard him speak in this fatherly manner. But, in spite of my
sympathy, it was difficult for me to answer him. I felt that this was a
subject that I could not discuss with Mr. Hamilton, and yet he seemed to
wish me to speak.

'You must give her time to recover herself,' I said, rather lamely.
'Gladys is very sensitive; she is more delicately organised than most
people; her feelings are unusually deep. She has had a severe shock; it
will not be easy to comfort her.'

'No, I suppose not,' with a sigh; 'her faith has suffered shipwreck;
but you must try to win her back to peace. Oh, you have much to do at
Gladwyn, as well as other places. I want you to feel at home with us,
Miss Garston. Some of us have our faults, we want knowing; but you must
try and like us better, and then you will not find us ungrateful.'

He stopped rather abruptly, as though he expected an answer, but I only
stammered out that he was very kind, and that I hoped when Gladys
returned from Bournemouth that I should often see her.

'Oh, to be sure,' he returned hastily. 'I forgot that her absence would
make a difference. You do not like poor Etta: I have noticed that. Well,
perhaps she is a little fussy and managing; but she is a kind-hearted
creature, and very good to us all. I do not know what I should have done
without her; my sisters do not understand me, they are never at their
ease with me. I feel this a trouble; I want to be good to them; but there
always seems a barrier that one cannot break down. I suppose,' with
intense bitterness, 'they lay the blame of that poor boy's death at my
door, as though I would not give my right hand to have him back again.'

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