Book: Uncle Max

R >> Rosa Nouchette Carey >> Uncle Max




When Mr. Hamilton came up in the evening he noticed the improvement in
Gladys's appearance.

'You are better to-night, my dear.'

'Oh yes, so much better,' looking up in his face with a smile. 'Giles, do
you think it would hurt me to have a drive to-morrow? I am so tired of
these two rooms. A drive alone with Ursula would be delicious. We could
go down the Redstone lanes towards Pemberley: one always has a whiff of
sea-air there over the downs.'

Gladys's request surprised me quite as much as it did Mr. Hamilton. She
had proposed it in all innocence; no idea of encountering Max entered her
head for a moment; Gladys's simplicity would be incapable of laying plans
of this sort. Her new-born happiness made her anxious to lay aside her
invalid habits; she wanted to be strong, to resume daily life, to breathe
the fresh outer air.

As for Mr. Hamilton, he did not try to conceal his pleasure.

'I see we shall soon lose our patient, nurse,' he said, with one of his
old droll looks. 'She is anxious to make herself independent of us.--Oh,
you shall go, by all means. I will go round to the stable and tell
Atkinson myself. It is an excellent idea, Gladys.'

'I am so glad you do not object. I am so much stronger this evening,
and I have wanted to go out for days; but, Giles,'--touching his arm
gently,--'you will make Etta understand that I want to go alone with
Ursula.'

'Certainly, my dear.' He would not cross her whim; she might have her way
if she liked; but the slight frown on his face showed that he was not
pleased at this allusion to Miss Darrell. He thought Gladys was almost
morbidly prejudiced against her cousin; but he prudently refrained from
telling her so, and Gladys went to bed happy.

I had taken the precaution of asking Chatty to wake me the next morning.
I had slept little the previous night, and was afraid that I might
oversleep myself in consequence. It was rather a trial when her touch
roused me out of a delicious dream; but one glance at Gladys's pale face
made me ashamed of my indolence. I dressed myself as quickly as I could,
and then looked at my little clock. Chatty had been better than her word:
it had not struck five yet.

Max would not be out for another hour, I thought, but all the same I
might as well take advantage of the morning freshness: so I summoned
Chatty to let me out as noiselessly as possible, and then I stole through
the shrubberies, breaking a silver-spangled cobweb or two and feeling the
wet beads of dew on my face.

I walked slowly down the road, drinking deep draughts of the pure morning
air. I had some thoughts of sitting down in the churchyard until I saw
some sign of life in the vicarage; but as I turned the corner I heard a
gate swing back on its hinges, and there was Max standing bareheaded in
the road, as though he had come out to reconnoitre; but directly he
caught sight of me two or three strides seemed to bring him to my side.

'Have you brought it?' he asked breathlessly.

'Yes, Max.' And I put the letter in his outstretched hand; and then,
without looking at him, I turned quietly and retraced my steps. I would
not wait with him while he read it; he should be alone, with only the
sunshine round him and the birds singing their joyous melodies in his
ear. No doubt he would join his _Te Deum_ with theirs. Happy Max, who had
won his Lady of Delight!

But I had not quite crossed the green when I heard his footsteps behind
me, and turned to meet him.

'Ursula, you naughty child! why have you run away without waiting to
congratulate me? And yet I'll be bound you knew the contents of this
letter.'

'Yes, Max, and from my heart I wish you and Gladys every happiness.'

'Good little Ursula! Oh yes, we shall be happy.' And the satisfaction in
Max's brown eyes was pleasant to see. 'She will need all the care and
tenderness that I can give her. We must make her forget all these sad
years. Do you think that she will be content at the old vicarage,
Ursula?' But as he asked the question there was no doubt--no doubt at
all--on his face.

'I think she will be content anywhere with you, Max. Gladys loves you
dearly.'

'Ah,' he said humbly, 'I know it now, I am sure of it; but I wish I
deserved my blessing. All these years I have known her goodness. She used
to show me all that was in her heart with the simplicity of a child. Such
sweet frankness! such noble unselfishness! was it a wonder that I loved
her? If I were only more worthy to be her husband!'

I liked Max to say this: there was nothing unmanly or strained in this
humility. The man who loves can never think himself worthy of the woman
he worships: his very affection casts a glamour over her. When I told Max
that I thought his wife would be a happy woman, he only smiled and said
that he hoped so too. He had not the faintest idea what a hero he was
in our eyes; he would not have believed me if I had told him.

Max said very little to me after that: happiness made him reticent. Only,
just as he was leaving me, I said carelessly, 'Max, do you ever go to
Pemberley?'

'Oh yes, sometimes, when the Calverleys are at the Hall,' he returned,
rather absently.

'Pemberley is a very pretty place,' I went on, stopping to pick a little
piece of sweet-brier that attracted me by its sweetness: 'it is very
pleasant to walk there through the Redstone lanes. There is a fine view
over the down, and at four o'clock, for example--'

'What about four o'clock?' he demanded: and now there was a little
excitement in his manner.

'Well, if you should by chance be in one of the Redstone lanes about
then, you might possibly see an open barouche with two ladies in it.'

'Ursula, you are a darling!' And Max seized my wrists so vigorously that
he hurt me. 'Four--did you say four o'clock?'

'It was very wrong of me to say anything about it. Gladys would be
shocked at my making an appointment. I believe you are demoralising me,
Max; but I do not mean to tell her.' And then, after a few more eager
questions on Max's part, he reluctantly let me go.

I had plenty to tell Gladys when she woke that morning, but I prudently
kept part of our conversation to myself. She wanted to know how Max
looked when he got her letter. Did he seem happy? had he sent her any
message? And when I had satisfied her on these points she had a hundred
other questions to ask. 'I am engaged to him, and yet we cannot speak
to each other,' she finished, a little mournfully.

I turned her thoughts at last by speaking about the promised drive. We
decided she should put on her pretty gray dress and bonnet to do honour
to the day. 'It is a fete-day, Gladys,' I said cheerfully, 'and we must
be as gay as possible.' And she agreed to this.

At the appointed time we heard the horses coming round from the stables,
and Mr. Hamilton came upstairs himself to fetch his sister. Chatty had
told me privately that Miss Darrell had been very cross all day. She had
wanted the carriage for herself that afternoon, and had spoken quite
angrily to Mr. Hamilton about it; but he had told her rather coldly that
she must give up her wishes for once. Thornton heard master say that he
was surprised at her selfishness: he had thought she would be glad that
Miss Gladys should have a drive. 'Miss Darrell looked as black as
possible, Thornton said, ma'am,' continued Chatty; 'but she did not dare
argue with master; he always has the best of it with her.'

As we drove off, I saw Miss Darrell watching us from the study window:
evidently her bad temper had not evaporated, for she had not taken the
trouble to come out in the hall to speak to Gladys, and yet they had not
met for a month. Gladys did not see her: she was smiling at her brother,
who was waving a good-bye from the open door. My heart smote me a little
as I looked at him. Would he think me very deceitful, I wondered, for
giving Max that clue? but after a moment I abandoned these thoughts and
gave myself up to the afternoon's enjoyment.

The air was delicious, the summer heat tempered by cool breezes that
seemed to come straight from the sea. Gladys lay back luxuriously among
the cushions, watching the flicker of green leaves over our heads, or the
soft shadows that lurked in the distant meadows, or admiring the
picturesque groups of cattle under some wide-spreading tree.

We had nearly reached Pemberley, the white roofs of the cottages were
gleaming through a belt of firs, when I at last caught sight of Max. He
was half hidden by some blackberry-bushes. I think he was sitting on a
stile resting himself; but when he heard the carriage-wheels he came
slowly towards us and put up his hand as a sign that Atkinson should pull
up.

I shall never forget the sudden illumination that lit up Gladys's face
when she saw him: a lovely colour tinged her cheeks as their eyes met,
and she put out her little gray-gloved hand to touch his. I opened the
carriage door and slipped down into the road.

'The horses can stand in the shade a little while, Atkinson,' I said
carelessly: 'I want to get some of those poppies, if the stile be not
very high.' I knew he would be watching me and looking after Whitefoot,
who was often a little fidgety, and would take the vicar's appearance on
the Pemberley road as a matter of course.

I was a long time gathering those poppies. Once I peeped through the
hedge. I could see two heads very close together. Max's arms were on the
carriage; the little gray-gloved hands were not to be seen; the sunshine
was shining on Gladys's fair hair and Max's beard. Were they speaking at
all? Could Atkinson have heard one of those low tones? And then I went
on with my poppies.

It was more than a quarter of an hour when I climbed over the stile
again, laden with scarlet poppies and pale-coloured convolvuli. Gladys
saw me first. 'Here is Ursula,' I heard her say; and Max moved away
reluctantly.

'I do not see why we should not drive you back to Heathfield, Max,' I
remarked coolly; and, as neither of them had any objection to raise, we
soon made room for Max.

There was very little said by any of us during the drive home; only
Gladys pressed my hand in token of gratitude; her eyes were shining with
happiness. As Max looked at the pale, sweet face opposite to him his
heart must have swelled with pride and joy: nothing could come between
those two now; henceforth they would belong to each other for time and
eternity.

Max asked us to put him down at the Three Firs; he had to call at 'The
Gowans,' he said. 'In two or three days--I cannot wait longer,' he said,
in a meaning tone, as he bade good-bye to Gladys. She blushed and smiled
in answer.

'What does Max mean?' I asked, as we left him behind us in the road.

'It is only that he wishes to speak to Giles,' she returned shyly. 'I
asked him to wait a day or two until I felt better; but he does not wish
to delay it; he says Giles has always wanted it so, but that he has long
lost hope about it.'

'I don't see why Max need have waited an hour,' was my reply; but there
was no time for Gladys to answer me, for we were turning in at the gate,
and there were Mr. Hamilton and Miss Darrell walking up and down the lawn
watching for us.

Mr. Hamilton came towards us at once, and gave his hand to Gladys.

'I need not ask how you have enjoyed your drive,' he said, looking at her
bright face with evident satisfaction.

'Oh, it has been lovely!' she returned, with such unwonted animation that
Miss Darrell stared at her. 'How do you do, Etta? It is long since we
have met.--Giles, if you will give me your arm, I think I will go
upstairs at once, for I am certainly a little tired.--Come, Ursula.'

'We met Mr. Cunliffe in the Pemberley Road, and drove him back,' I
observed carelessly, when Miss Darrell was out of hearing. I thought it
better to allude to Max in case Atkinson mentioned it to one of the
servants.

'You should have brought him in to dinner,' was Mr. Hamilton's only
comment. 'By the bye, Miss Garston, when do you intend to honour us with
your company downstairs? Your patient is convalescent now.'

'I have just awoke to that fact,' was my reply, 'and I have told Mrs.
Barton that she will soon see me back at the White Cottage. Miss Watson
leaves next Tuesday: I think Gladys could spare me by then.'

Gladys shook her head. 'I shall never willingly spare you, Ursula; but of
course I shall have no right to trespass on your time.'

'No, of course not,' returned her brother sharply; 'Miss Garston has been
too good to us already: we cannot expect her to sacrifice herself any
longer. We will say Tuesday, then. You will come downstairs on Sunday,
Gladys?'

'Yes,' with a faint sigh.

'We need not talk about my going yet, when Gladys is tired,' I returned,
feeling inclined to scold Mr. Hamilton for his want of tact. Tuesday, and
it was Wednesday now,--not quite a week more; but, looking up, I saw Mr.
Hamilton regarding me so strangely, and yet so sorrowfully, that my
brief irritability vanished. He was sorry that I was going; he seemed
about to speak; his lips unclosed, then a sudden frown of recollection
crossed his brow, and with a curt good-night he left us.

'What is the matter with Giles?' asked Gladys, rather wearily: I could
see she was very tired by this time. 'Have you and he quarrelled,
Ursula?'

'Not to my knowledge,' I replied quietly, turning away, that she should
not see my burning cheeks. 'There is Chatty bringing the tea: are you not
glad, dear?' And I busied myself in clearing the table.




CHAPTER XLIII

'CONSPIRACY CORNER'


Gladys went to bed very early that night: her long drive had disposed her
for sleep. The summer twilight was only creeping over the western sky
when I closed her door and went out into the passage: the evening was
only half over, and a fit of restlessness induced me to seek the garden.

The moon was just rising behind the little avenue, and the soft rush of
summer air that met me as I stepped through the open door had the breath
of a thousand flowers on it. Mr. Hamilton was shut safely in his study;
I was aware of that fact, as I had heard him tell Gladys that night
that he had a medical article to write that he was anxious to finish.
Miss Darrell would be reading novels in the drawing-room; there was no
fear of meeting any one; but some instinct--for we have no word in our
human language to express the divine impetus that sways our inward
promptings--induced me to take refuge in the dark asphalt path that
skirted the meadow and led to Atkinson's cottage and the kitchen-garden.

I was unhappy,--in a mood that savoured of misanthropy; my fate was
growing cross-grained, enigmatical. Mr. Hamilton's frown had struck
cold to my heart; I was beginning to lose patience (to lose hope was
impossible),--to ask myself why he remained silent.

'If he has anything against me,--and his manner tells me that he
has,--why does he not treat me with frankness?' I thought. 'He calls
himself my friend, and yet he reposes no trust in me. He breaks my heart
with his changed looks and coldness, and yet he gives me no reason for
his injustice. I would not treat my enemy so, and yet all the time I feel
he loves me.' And as I paced under the dark hanging shrubs I felt there
was nothing morbid or untrue in those lines, that 'to be wroth with one
that we love does work like madness on the brain,' and that I was growing
angry with Mr. Hamilton.

I had just reached a dark angle where the path dips a little, when I was
startled by hearing voices close to me. There was a seat screened by some
laurel-bushes that went by the name of 'Conspiracy Corner,' dating back
from the time when Gladys and Eric were children and had once hidden some
fireworks among the bushes. It was there that Claude Hamilton had
proposed to Lady Betty, when Gladys had found them, and the two young
creatures had appealed to her to help them. The seat was so hidden and
secluded by shrubs that you could pass without seeing its occupants,
unless a little bit of fluttering drapery or the gleam of some gold chain
or locket caught one's eye. I remembered once being very much startled
when Lady Betty popped out suddenly on me as I passed.

I was just retracing my steps, with a sense of annoyance at finding my
privacy invaded, when a sentence in Leah's voice attracted my attention:

'I tell you he was driving with them this afternoon: I heard Miss Garston
tell the master so. It is no good you fretting and worrying yourself,
Miss Etta, to prevent those two coming together. I've always warned you
that the vicar cares more for her little finger than he does for all your
fine airs and graces.'

I stood as though rooted to the spot, incapable of moving a step.

'You are a cruel, false woman!' returned another voice, which I
recognised as Miss Darrell's, though it was broken with angry sobs. 'You
say that to vex me and make me wretched because you are in a bad temper.
You are an ungrateful creature, Leah, after all my kindness; and it was
you yourself who told me that he was getting tired of Gladys's whims and
vagaries.'

'I can't remember what I told you,' replied the woman sullenly. 'There
are no fools like old ones, they say, and you need not believe everything
as though it is gospel truth. There is not a man in the world worth all
this worry. Why don't you give it up, Miss Etta? Do you think Mr.
Cunliffe will ever give you a thought? I would be too proud, if I were
a lady, to fling myself under a man's feet. Do you think he would like
your crooked ways about Mr. Eric?'

'Hush, Leah! for pity's sake, hush! What makes you so cruel to me
to-night?'

'Well now, look here, Miss Etta; I am not going to be hushed up when I
choose to speak; and who is to hear us, I should like to know? only it is
your guilty conscience that is always starting at shadows. I mean to
speak to you pretty plainly, for I am getting sick of the whole business.
You are playing fast and loose with me about that money. Are you going to
give it me or not?'

I drew a step nearer. Leah had mentioned Eric's name. Was it not my
duty,--my bounden duty,--for Gladys's sake, for all their sakes, to hear
what this woman had to say? Would it be dishonourable to listen when so
much was at stake? Already I had been startled by a revelation that
turned me cold with horror. Miss Darrell was Gladys's rival,--her deadly,
secret rival,--and not one of us, not even Max, guessed at this unhealthy
and morbid passion. That such a woman should love my pure-minded,
honourable Max! I recoiled at the mere idea.

'You are so impatient, Leah,' returned the other reproachfully. 'You know
it is not easy for me to get the money. Giles was complaining the other
day that so much was spent in the housekeeping; he never thought me
extravagant before, but he seemed to say that my personal expenses were
rather lavish. "You have twice as many gowns as Gladys," he said: "and,
though I do not grudge you things, I think you ought to keep within your
allowance."'

'I can't help all that, Miss Etta,' and I could tell by the voice that
the woman meant to be insolent. 'A promise is a promise, and must be
kept, and poor Bob must not suffer from your procrastinating ways. You
are far too slippery and shifty, Miss Etta; but I tell you that money I
must and will have before this week is over, if I have to go to master
myself about it.'

'You had better go to him, then,' with rising temper. 'I don't quite know
what Giles will say about retaining you in his service when he knows you
have a brother at Millbank. A servant with a convict-brother is not
considered generally desirable in a house.' But Leah broke in upon this
sneering speech in sudden fury: even in my disgust at this scene I could
not but marvel at Miss Darrell's recklessness in rousing the evil spirit
in this woman.

'You to talk of my poor Bob being in Millbank, who ought to be there
yourself!' she cried, in a voice hoarse and low with passion. 'Are you
out of your senses, Miss Etta, to taunt me with poor Bob's troubles? What
is to prevent me from going to master now and saying to him--'

'Oh, hush, Leah! please forgive me; but you made me so angry.'

'From saying to him,' persisted Leah remorselessly, "'You are all of you
wrong about Mr. Eric. You have hunted the poor boy out of the house, and
driven him crazy among you; and if he has drowned himself, as folk
believe, his death lies at Miss Etta's door. It was she who stole the
cheque. I saw her take it with my own eyes, only she begged me on her
knees not to betray her; and just then Mr. Eric came in with his letter,
and the devil entered into me to cast the suspicion on him."'

'Leah,' in a voice of deadly terror, 'for God's sake be silent! if any
one should hear us! There was a crackling just now in the bushes. Leah,
you were good to my mother: how can you be so cruel to me?'

'It is no use your whining to me, Miss Etta,' returned the same hard,
dogged voice; 'Bob must have that money. When I promised to keep your
disgraceful secret,--when I stood by and helped you ruin that poor boy,
and Bob cashed your cheque,--I named my price. I wanted to keep Bob out
of mischief, but his bad companions were too much for him. Now are you
going to get that money for me or not?'

'I dare not ask Giles for more,' replied Miss Darrell, and I could hear
she was crying. 'I gave you half the housekeeping money last week and the
week before. If Giles looks at my accounts I am undone.'

'And there was that cheque that you were to send Miss Gladys when she was
at Bournemouth, and for which she sent that pretty message of thanks,'
interposed Leah, with a sneer. 'Shall I tell master where that has gone,
Miss Etta? And you to speak of my poor Bob because he is at Millbank!'

'Leah, you are killing me,' renewed Miss Darrell. 'I might as well die as
go on living like this. You are always threatening to turn against me,
and I give you money whenever you ask me. You shall have my gold bracelet
with the emerald star. It was my mother's and it will fetch a good deal.
I cannot get more from Giles now. He is not like himself just now, and I
dare not make him angry.'

'Oh, you have tried your hand there, Miss Etta. No, I am not asking you,
so you need not tell me any lies. I knew all about it when you sent me up
to Hyde Park Gate to spy on my young lady. I have worked willingly for
you there. I've hated Miss Garston ever since I set eyes on her. She is a
sharp one, I tell you that, Miss Etta. She means to bring these two
together, and she will do it in spite of you.'

'I wish I were dead!' moaned Miss Darrell.

But I did not dare to linger another moment. My heart was beating so
loudly that I feared it would betray me. The faint stir of the bushes
turned me sick, for I thought they might be moving from their seat. Not
for worlds would I have confronted them alone in that dark asphalt walk.
My fears were absurd, but I felt as though Leah were capable of
strangling me. Granted that this terror was unreasonable and childish,
I knew I could not breathe freely until I was within reach of Mr.
Hamilton. As I crept down the path the sensation of a nightmare haunted
me. I felt as though my feet were weighted with lead. My face was cold
and damp, and I drew my breath painfully. I almost felt as though I must
hide myself in the shrubbery until the faintness passed off; but I shook
off my weakness as I remembered that I might be shut out of the house if
I allowed them to go in first. As I emerged from the dark overhanging
trees I grew calmer and walked on more quickly. I dared not cross the
open lawn, for fear I might be seen, but took the most secluded route
through the oak avenue. If they should perceive me walking down the
terrace towards the conservatory they would only think that I had just
left the house. I could see no signs of them, however, and gained the
open door safely.

Even in my state of terror I had made my plan, and without giving myself
a moment to recover my self-possession I knocked at the study door, and,
at Mr. Hamilton's rather impatient 'Come in,' entered it with the same
sort of feeling that one would enter an ark of refuge.

He laid down his pen in some surprise when he saw me, and then rose
quickly from his seat.

'You are ill; you have come to tell me so,' in an anxious voice. 'Don't
try to speak this moment: sit down--my--Miss Garston'; but I caught his
arm nervously as he seemed about to leave me.

'Don't go away: I must speak to you. I am not ill: only I have had a
turn. You may give me some water'; for there was a bottle and glass on
the table. He obeyed me at once, and watched me as I tried to take it;
but my hand trembled too much: the next moment he had put it to my lips,
and had wiped the moisture gently from my forehead.

'It is only faintness; it will pass off directly,' he said quietly. 'I
will not leave you; but I have some sal volatile in that cupboard, and I
think you will be the better for it.' And he mixed me some, and stood by
me without speaking until the colour came back to my face. 'You are
better now, Ursula--I mean,' biting his lips--'well, never mind. Do you
feel a little less shaky?'

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