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| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-05-03 12:48:20 -0700 |
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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-05-03 12:48:20 -0700 |
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diff --git a/78596-h/78596-h.htm b/78596-h/78596-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..418d804 --- /dev/null +++ b/78596-h/78596-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7010 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <title> + A Fatal Silence | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +h2 {line-height: 2em;} +h2 span {font-size: .8em;} + +.large {font-size: large;} +.small {font-size: small;} + +p { + margin-top: .2em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .2em; + text-indent: 1.2em; +} + +.mt3 {margin-top: 3em;} + +.no-indent {text-indent: 0em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +td {padding: .25em;} +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + + +/* Transcriber’s notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78596 ***</div> + + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ii"></a><a id="Page_iii"></a>[Pg iii]</span></p> + + +<h1> +A FATAL SILENCE +</h1> + +<p class="center mt3 no-indent"><span class="small">BY</span><br> +<span class="large">FLORENCE MARRYAT</span></p> + +<p class="center no-indent"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF<br> +‘LOVE’S CONFLICT,’ ‘VÉRONIQUE,’ ETC., ETC., ETC.</span></p> + +<p class="center mt3 no-indent"><i>IN THREE VOLUMES</i></p> + +<p class="center no-indent">VOL. II.</p> + +<p class="center mt3 no-indent">LONDON<br> +<span class="large">GRIFFITH FARRAN OKEDEN & WELSH</span><br> +NEWBERY HOUSE, CHARING CROSS ROAD<br> +<span class="small">AND SYDNEY.</span></p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center no-indent"><span class="small">D.: G. C. & CO.: 30.91.<br> +<i>The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are reserved.</i></span></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</span></p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS"><em>CONTENTS.</em></h2> +</div> + +<table> +<tr> +<th class="tdr" colspan="2">PAGE</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">PAULA IS MARRIED,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">A TRIUMPHANT RETURN,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">PAULA’S VISITORS,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">LADY BRISTOWE,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">A MYSTERIOUS LOSS,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">THE WIDOW’S STRATAGEM,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">THE SCANDAL SPREADS,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vi"></a>[Pg vi]</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">A VALIANT PARTISAN,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">NEW PROSPECTS,</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[Pg 1]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +</div> + +<h2>A FATAL SILENCE.</h2> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I"> + CHAPTER I.<br> + <span>PAULA IS MARRIED.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap">Hal Rushton</span> was very anxious that Mrs +Sutton should live with Paula and himself at +Deepdale. The old lady was fragile, and he +thought it would gratify his future wife to make +the last years of her mother’s life comfortable. +He would have liked to see the unfortunate +offspring of Carl Bjornsën put away in an +asylum, or under judicious guardianship, and +so have removed from his sight and memory +for ever all trace of Paula’s first marriage. And +if he could only forget it, as if it had never +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span> +been (he said to himself), he should be so inexplicably +happy. But, as Paula had anticipated, +Mrs Sutton refused either to live at +Highbridge Hall or to give up the charge of +her little grandson. She loved the helpless child—that +was the first reason, but there was +another. The local practitioner of Grassdene, +who had known the little imbecile from his +birth, and all the circumstances of the case, had +persuaded a friend of his—a famous brain doctor, +who was taking a holiday at Lynmouth—to see +the child and pass an opinion on him, and his +verdict had been that Paulie would never be +any better, and was very unlikely to live over +fourteen or fifteen years of age. So, as long +as he lived, his grandmother declared she would +never part with him. This settled the question, +for much as Hal would have liked his wife +to enjoy the society of her mother, the resolution +they had arrived at, not to let the public +of Deepdale into the secret of Paula’s former +life, entirely prohibited the presence of the little +boy at Highbridge Hall. So he spent the few +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> +weeks before his marriage in a state of feverish +anxiety, rushing about after painters and upholsterers, +and ready to fly in a temper with everybody, +and to declare nothing was being done +well enough, nor quickly enough, for the divinity +that was coming to bring the sunshine of +Heaven upon the old place. Mr and Mrs +Measures were both very good to the hot-headed +young man in those days—the lady +especially so. She it was who restrained his +extravagance, and prevented his destroying the +calm and mellow tone of the old Hall by the +introduction of a lot of modern furniture and +pictures that would have killed half its beauty. +Hal had never had his taste educated or directed. +All he wanted to do was to provide everything +that Paula could possibly desire, and he was +ready, in consequence, to take any advice that +Mr Snoad of Haltham chose to give him. But +Mrs Measures was his guardian angel in this +particular, and the old rooms bloomed anew in +soft, subdued colours under her guiding hand. +She took a delight in making the house look +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> +as superior to all other houses in Deepdale as +she possibly could. She was secretly overjoyed +at the idea of Paula Stafford coming back +to queen it over the Gribbles and Axworthys, +and the rest of the parishioners, who had hounded +her from the village, and she had taken such +a dislike to her successor, rosy-cheeked, glossy-haired +Miss Brown, that the vicar could hardly +persuade her to enter the schoolhouse.</p> + +<p>‘A vulgar, presuming, underbred little body, +who talks to me as if I were her equal,’ she +exclaimed. ‘Who can expect these ignorant +children to improve under her auspices? +They have lost half that Miss Stafford taught +them already. Ah, what short-sighted fools +they were to drive that girl away, and how +glad I am that Hal Rushton had the wisdom +to see what a pearl had been cast amongst +swine.’</p> + +<p>And, notwithstanding the vicar’s remonstrances, +the steadfast hearted little woman made use of +the same expression in the very teeth of Mr +Gribble.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p> + +<p>‘Good-morning, ma’am,’ he said one day as +he met her coming out of the schoolroom; ‘you +have been to see our dear Miss Brown engaged +in her labours of love.’</p> + +<p>‘Labours of love! do you call them, Mr +Gribble? Is not Miss Brown receiving the +usual teacher’s stipend?’ asked Mrs Measures.</p> + +<p>‘Surely, ma’am, and well she deserves it, too. +Such a pious young woman, affording so hexcellent +an example to our dear little ones. I +am sure my good lady and I say that we can +never be sufficiently thankful as we found Miss +Brown. Quite a godsend in every sense of +the word.’</p> + +<p>‘Indeed, I fancy I heard you say something +of the same kind respecting Miss Stafford when +she first came to Deepdale.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah! but pardon me, ma’am, <em>I</em> knows, and +all Deepdale knows, as you take an uncommon +interest in that young person—so you’ll pardon +me, ma’am, for saying as we was grossly deceived.’</p> + +<p>‘I quite agree with you, Mr Gribble,’ retorted +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> +the vicar’s wife; ‘you <em>were</em> grossly deceived in +Miss Stafford, but it was not your fault so much +as your ignorance and the ignorance of your +friends. Miss Stafford was a great deal too good +for the position she held here, and you were +unable to appreciate her. She is a lady by +birth and breeding, and I rejoice to think she +is coming back to hold her proper position +amongst us as Mr Rushton’s wife. It was misfortune +that compelled her to stoop to the +office of teacher to the children of Deepdale, +and I think it was very brave of her to accept +it. But she was a pearl cast before swine, and +so anyone who compared her with Miss Brown +would say.’</p> + +<p>‘A <em>what</em>, ma’am?’ demanded the churchwarden, +unable to believe his ears.</p> + +<p>‘A pearl cast before swine, Mr Gribble,’ repeated +Mrs Measures, ‘and I have told the +vicar so several times.’</p> + +<p>Mr Gribble did not know what to answer. +He was boiling over with rage, and yet he +dared not offend the vicar’s wife by expressing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> +his real feelings. So he smiled in a sickly +manner, and said,—</p> + +<p>‘Well, ma’am, of course we all know as Miss +Stafford is a favourite of yours and the vicar’s, +and I daresay she made her story good in +your eyes. Still, ma’am, when you talk of a +<em>pearl</em>, ma’am, and <em>swine</em>, ma’am, I must say I +consider the comparison ’ard.’</p> + +<p>‘I can’t help what you think about it, Mr +Gribble. It will not change my opinion. Miss +Stafford is my friend, and Mrs Hal Rushton +will be my friend, and whoever thinks anything +but what is good of her will have to keep it to +himself or answer to Mr Rushton for it. Good-day,’ +and without further comment Mrs Measures +passed on.</p> + +<p>‘Well, my dear, things <em>is</em> come to a pretty +pass,’ Mrs Gribble confided to Mrs Axworthy +later on, ‘when a clergyman’s wife calls +her ’usband’s parishioners <em>pigs</em> to their faces. +That’s what <em>we</em> all are, Mrs Axworthy, ma’am—pigs +and swine. And Miss Stafford, who had +gentlemen in to supper unbeknown to all, is a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> +pearl of great price. Why, it’s blasphemous, that’s +what it is, and Mr Gribble says it ought to be +reported to the bishop. Swine, indeed! I’d like to +know what Mrs Measures is herself, then. Why, +she ain’t got a dress in her bureau as is worth the +value of my Sunday satin. She’s a nice person to +go talking about <em>swine</em>. It makes me sick.’</p> + +<p>And here Mrs Rushton ‘dropped in’ for five +minutes’ talk, and the story was repeated to her, +and soon made the round of every house in the +village. But though everyone fumed and +spluttered over it, no one dared to resent it, +except to one another. They could not afford +to make a public example of Mrs Measures’ +offensive remark. Were they not all tradesmen, +and dependent in a great measure on the +patronage of the vicarage and the Hall? Had +not even the great Mr Gribble an interest in supplying +corn and oats to Mr Rushton’s stables? +So they chewed the cud of bitterness in silence +so far as the Hall and vicarage were concerned.</p> + +<p>At last August drew to a close—the house was +ready for the reception of the bride—and Hal +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> +Rushton packed up his portmanteau and prepared +to start for Devon. Mrs Measures was +the last person to shake hands with him.</p> + +<p>‘Mind you are to bring her straight to us,’ +she cried cheerily. ‘I shall expect you both in +a fortnight’s time. Tell Paula she must take +us as she finds us. There will be no preparation, +and no fuss—only a hearty welcome—unless, +indeed,’ she added, laughing, ‘Mr Gribble takes +it into his head to erect a flowery arch, with +an appropriate motto on it.’</p> + +<p>‘And Mrs Rushton, senior, stops the carriage +to present her with a bouquet,’ said Hal, infected +with the idea. ‘No, no, Mrs Measures, we shall +look for only one honour, and that will be +your welcoming smile. Good-bye.’ And with a +touch of his hat, off he flew in his dog-cart, with +a radiant face, to catch the train at Haltham.</p> + +<p>Paula had objected to being married in +Grassdene. Her first wedding had taken place +there, and the church was full of unpleasant +remembrances. So it had been arranged that +they should go over to Lynmouth, with only +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> +Mrs Sutton and the good old doctor, whose +name was Gibbon, and after the ceremony and +a lunch at the hotel the elders were to return to +Grassdene together, and leave the bride and bridegroom +to themselves. Hal had pleaded for a +quiet honeymoon. He hated the idea of leaving +England, and rushing about foreign towns like two +strangers—dragging his wife about from one place +of amusement to another, and leaving themselves +no leisure for quiet talk or mutual acquaintance +with each other’s minds. Happily, Paula +held the same opinions. She loved her promised +husband dearly. All she wanted was himself, +and the less they mixed with other people +the better she should be pleased. So they +agreed to spend their short holiday at Lynmouth, +where they were equally unknown, and +Hal had secured rooms at a quiet hotel close +to the lovely wooded slopes of Devon, the land +of ferns and rocks and rivulets, and everything +that is dreamy, poetical and romantic. Here, +for the time being (mamma and the doctor having +been carted back to Grassdene), they were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> +absurdly and ridiculously happy. The weather +was glorious, and as soon as their breakfast +was completed they would wander forth together, +armed with books and shawls and a luncheon +basket, and try to lose themselves in the lovely +glades by which Lynmouth is surrounded. +Then, when Hal had found a particularly enticing +little bower, where the leafy branches +made a canopy overhead, and the carpet was +formed of moss and tiny fern fronds, he would +spread out the shawls for Paula to rest upon, +and cast himself full length at her feet, with +his head upon her lap and his eyes cast upward +to her face. And she would open a book and +commence to read to him, but there were so +many interruptions of a frivolous nature that +she would generally lay it aside in despair, and +drift into conversation instead. And these conversations +proved the first real insight she gained +to her lover’s soul. Now, with the sweet familiarity +of husband and wife, they could talk to +each other as they had never talked before, and +Hal told her all that was in his mind, and all +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> +that had been there since he had waked up +to the knowledge that he had a mind at all. +She had known him hitherto as a frank, generous +hearted and pleasant spoken man, who was +brave and fearless, fond of all field sports and +country amusements, and especially fond of herself. +But she had had no notion, until she +married him, of how much more there was in +Hal Rushton than all that. He was no student, +and not much of a reader, but he had studied +nature deeply, and he had thought upon all +sorts of subjects. <em>She</em> interested him because +she was a little encyclopedia of knowledge, and +had a most retentive memory for chapter and +verse, and <em>he</em> interested her because he seemed +to have arrived at so many of the same conclusions +as she had entirely by thinking out +the subject for himself, without any aid from +literature. And so they grew to be great +friends—these two—and confidants, which is +quite apart from and very much better than +being great lovers.</p> + +<p>‘I know that I am an awful duffer,’ said +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> +Hal one day, when Paula had expressed her +surprise at the accuracy of his scientific knowledge, +‘but you see I’ve got into a habit of +thinking out things by myself, as I ride or +walk about the country fields and lanes. I’ve +led a very lonely life, you know, darling, hitherto. +My father never associated with me. He was +an old man when I was born, and I suppose +my society bored him. And when that detestable +woman took up a position in the house, +I saw less of him still. And since his death +you may imagine the life I’ve led with the +widow and her son. The only pleasure I had +was trying to get out of their presence. So +I have grown up very much alone, and been +accustomed to puzzle out my ideas by myself, +without appealing to the opinion of anyone. +I am afraid you will find me a very rough, +ignorant sort of fellow, darling (I warned +you of that, you may remember, long ago), but +you will bear with me, won’t you, and teach +me better, because I worship the very ground +you tread on.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span></p> + +<p>‘But, Hal, you underrate yourself,’ Paula replied. +‘You must possess a very deep-thinking +brain to have arrived at the opinions you hold +without the help of anybody. It is easy enough +to learn what others have written down for us, +but a very different thing to work the problems +out for ourselves. I will not let you depreciate +your talents any more. I am never tired of +hearing you talk. I could listen for hours. +You know so much about plants and flowers +and animals, and the weather, and all that concerns +that sweet, happy nature, the memory of +which even seems to have been obliterated from +my mind by—’</p> + +<p>But Hal put his hand over her mouth.</p> + +<p>‘Against orders,’ he cried gaily. ‘We are +going to live together, please God, for many +years, amidst the sweet, happy nature you admire, +and all that you do not know about it I +will teach you. Paula, have you ever ridden +on horseback?’</p> + +<p>‘No, dear, I have never had the opportunity to +learn.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span></p> + +<p>‘I will teach you, darling. What a pleasure it +will be to me. For I flatter myself that if I <em>do</em> +know anything, it is about horses. And my +friend Ashfold of Haltham has the prettiest +little mare for sale you ever saw, and as quiet +as a lamb. I will write to him about her +to-morrow.’</p> + +<p>‘You mustn’t be extravagant, dear Hal, to +procure me luxuries. I can be quite content +without riding on horseback.’</p> + +<p>‘But I shall never be content till I see you +there. Your lovely figure will be shown off to +perfection in a habit. Only, you must promise +me one thing, Paula.’</p> + +<p>‘What is that?’</p> + +<p>‘Not to take to hunting.’ She laughed merrily +at the idea of flying over hedges and ditches +when she had never yet sat in the saddle. ‘Ah, +you may laugh, darling, but you don’t know +how soon the desire may come to you, nor how +infectious it is. But I couldn’t bear it, Paula. +It would destroy all my nerve to know you +were in the field. I should give up following +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> +the hounds myself. I should be so terribly +anxious.’</p> + +<p>‘Dear boy, don’t excite yourself about it. I +expect I shall have enough to do looking after +that big house without thinking of hunting, +neither have I any desire that way. But if the +idea makes you nervous, I will promise you never +to do it.’</p> + +<p>‘Thank you, dear. It is a great relief to +my mind. I don’t think that without it I +could ever have taught you to ride. I have +seen such horrible accidents occur in the field—and +to think of one’s wife, one’s own flesh +and blood, being mangled or killed in that +manner—’ He shut his eyes for a moment, as +though to shut out the sight, and then continued: +‘There is a girl, Amy Willard, whom I have +known from childhood. She is the daughter +of a neighbouring farmer, and is a splendid +horsewoman—indeed, she was put in the saddle +almost as soon as she could sit there by herself—and +she attends all the meets. Well, do you +know, she has spoiled many a good day’s hunting +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> +for me, for when the run is unusually hard, +or the ground is broken up, I cannot get her +out of my head, and am always wondering if +she has come to grief, or not. Women are +at such a terrible disadvantage in the hunting +field.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I will never spoil your pleasure in +that way, Hal, for I know how much you +enjoy it.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I like a run, now and then, as well as +the best of them, but I expect I sha’n’t hunt +as regularly this season as I have been used +to do.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, you must. It will vex me if you give +up any of your usual habits for my sake. +Besides, I am proud of your prowess in the +hunting field, and last autumn I used to think +you looked so handsome in your pink coat and +top-boots, as you rode home past the schoolhouse +window.’</p> + +<p>‘Little flatterer! I shall want you to drive +out in your pony chaise sometimes and see the +hounds throw off. It is such a pretty sight. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> +You will have to learn to drive as well as ride, +Paula. Did I tell you that I had sold the +phaeton and bought a low basket-carriage +instead, with a nice little black pony, for +you to jog along the country lanes in? And +your great lumbering husband will jog with +you sometimes, sweetheart, if you will let +him.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Hal, you are too good to me. Driving +about in my own carriage! Why, I sha’n’t know +myself. And that dear old garden, too, at which +I sometimes peeped through the drive gates, +I look forward so to wandering about it. I +shall feel as if I were in a dream when I +find myself settled down for ever at Highbridge +Hall.’</p> + +<p>‘You don’t know half the treasures I have to +show you yet, Paula. I hope you like dogs, +my dear?’</p> + +<p>‘Very much. I had a little terrier once, long, +long ago, that I loved like a child. It had grown +up with me from a puppy. It was my little +friend.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> + +<p>‘And what became of it?’</p> + +<p>Paula flushed.</p> + +<p>‘You had better not ask me,’ she replied in +a low voice.</p> + +<p>‘That brute wouldn’t let you keep it?’ said +Hal interrogatively.</p> + +<p>‘Worse than that. He nearly kicked it to +death because—because—it came on the quarter-deck +after me, and then he flung it into the sea. +I can’t think of it even now, Hal,’ said Paula +in a faltering voice, ‘I loved the poor little +thing so.’</p> + +<p>‘I wonder the fellows on board ship didn’t +lynch that man twenty times over. However, +let’s hope he’s got it hot now,’ replied Hal +fiercely. ‘But don’t cry, my angel. I know one +dog can’t make up for the loss of another, but +you shall keep as many as you like at the +Hall. You have seen some of my golden +setters. I am considered rather famous for them +in the county, and sell a couple of dozen puppies +sometimes in the year. I am sure you must +love puppies?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, and kittens and chickens, and everything +that is young,’ she replied eagerly, and +then, checking herself, she continued slowly: ‘Isn’t +it sad, Hal, that loving them all as I do I should +feel it so difficult to love my own child? I +don’t care for him half so much as mother does. +Poor little fellow! He repels me sometimes, +and seems to be an epitome of all my miserable +past.’</p> + +<p>‘Dearest, I can quite understand the feeling. +It is one of the unhappinesses I mean to strive +to make you forget. It would have been better +if God had seen fit to take the poor little chap. +But as He hasn’t, I am glad your mother is +so fond of him. But don’t dwell on the +subject, Paula. Your best comfort lies in the +fact that the child is unconscious of his loss. +<em>He</em> is happy enough, there is no doubt of +that.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, and this is the last time in my life +in which to worry myself unnecessarily. For +you have made me so happy, love. I cannot +recognise in myself the wretched, despondent +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> +girl who used to toil to put something like sense +into the brains of those awful children at Deepdale. +And now to go back to the very same +place as <em>your wife</em>—<em>I</em>, whom Mr Gribble used +to think he highly honoured by giving a seat +in his gig to Haltham. Oh, it does make me +laugh so to think of it, dear, all the time I am +ready to weep with gratitude for your having +changed my prison to a paradise.’</p> + +<p>‘And what have you done for me, Paula? +Made me know happiness for the first time in +my life. I can conceive in all the world no +greater bliss than this. To be alone with the +woman I love best—with my own wife—and +to know that neither of us has a thought that +is not shared by the other. You have seen +that I am a jealous man, dear. That is true, +though I do not anticipate that you will +ever make me jealous of any other man in +the future.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh! never, <em>never</em>, Hal.’</p> + +<p>‘But if anything <em>could</em> rouse my jealous feelings +again, it would be to know that you had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> +any greater <em>friend</em> than myself, that there was +anyone in the wide world who shared a thought +you would not confide to me. That conviction +would make me so hopeless, in thinking that +though I held your body I had no power to +enchain your mind. One soul, one body. That +is my idea of a true marriage. And though +your body were to decay, I could still be happy, +knowing I held the key to your soul. But your +body, however fresh and beautiful, would be +worthless to me without the other and dearer +claim. I don’t know if I make myself plain to +you. I tumble all my stupid thoughts out at +your feet. But that is the delight of having +a friend, that one need never be at the trouble +of appearing at one’s best.’</p> + +<p>‘But you are always at your best to me, Hal, +and I agree with every word you say. And +you need never be afraid I shall have a closer +friend or confidant than yourself. Indeed, with +the exception of dear kind Mrs Measures, I do +not expect to have many friends in Deepdale. +I wonder what attitude your stepmother will +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> +assume towards me. She cannot feel very +cordially disposed, since my advent ousts her +from the Hall.’</p> + +<p>‘I won’t answer for what she <em>feels</em>, but I am +quite sure she will not display any open hostility +towards you. I am rather afraid of having too +much of the other thing. But pray don’t encourage +her, Paula. Place her visits to the Hall +at once on a formal footing, and don’t let her +get too familiar with you. If you do, she will +try to re-establish herself as one of the family. +And I have had more than enough of her, +darling. She is a vulgar, illiterate woman, not +fit to be your companion, and though my father +unfortunately gave her our name, I will never +own her as a relation. She has her own +house now, and let her stay in it. I will +have the Hall no longer polluted by her presence.’</p> + +<p>‘It will be rather difficult, I am afraid, to +keep her out of it, when it has been her home +for so many years,’ said Paula dubiously.</p> + +<p>‘It will require tact, but I am determined it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> +shall be done,’ replied her husband. ‘If we +don’t make a stand against it, we shall have +that woman and her son sitting down with us at +every meal, and offering to share our drives and +walks. No, no; I have married you for myself, +and I mean to keep you to myself. I will not +have you herding with Mrs Rushton and Mrs +Gribble and Mrs Axworthy, and others like +them. There are one or two ladies in Deepdale +besides Mrs Measures, and a few more in +Haltham, and if they don’t care to know us, +we’ll do without any society but our own; +for I am determined you shall never be pulled +down to the level of the envious, back-biting +crew who drove you out of your +appointment.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Hal,’ sighed Paula, ‘sometimes I think, +suppose I should bring you into an atmosphere +of strife and disunion, instead of peace +and happiness?’</p> + +<p>‘Strife and disunion!’ he echoed, laughing, +‘how should they hurt us so long as there is +love and unity in our own hearts? But I have +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> +plucked my White Rose, and I will not have her +dragged down again to the dirty level of these +people. You were placed on it by the appointment +you held amongst them, but you have +risen above it to your proper position, and you +shall not descend again, unless it be through +condescension. But they will not easily forgive +you for having frustrated their designs, and +the less you have to say to them at all the +better. But come, my darling, the dew is +beginning to fall. We had better stroll back to +dinner. I must not risk your taking cold, even +for such a lovely time as this.’</p> + +<p>After a fortnight spent much in the same +manner, the lovers began to think of turning +their steps homeward in right earnest. For +though they dearly loved each other, they were +both sensible that life held too many serious duties +to permit of such a time of idle dalliance lasting +for ever or even being satisfactory for very long. +Hal began to think of his stables more often than +he had done, and to wonder if his head-groom +Derrick was doing his duty by the horses, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> +checking the corn-chandler’s account regularly. +And Paula was secretly longing to view her +new possessions and mount authority over the +domestic arrangements at the Hall—to enter, in +fact, upon the little kingdom of which Hal had +made her queen.</p> + +<p>‘Such a notable housekeeper as you are, who +can make tea as beautifully as you did for me once +or twice in the schoolhouse,’ he said, laughing, +‘will be delighted with the stores of linen and +china and glass at the Hall. Not that I know +much about it myself, but Mrs Measures assured +me they were quite <em>unique</em>. But I am not going +to have you turn yourself into a drudge, my +Paula, mind that. You may superintend your +maids as much as you like, but they must do the +work for you, or they must go. I want you to +sing and play, and read and ride, and enjoy your +life to the utmost. You have had enough hardship +already, poor child, God knows. The +future shall be as bright and pleasant as I can +make it for you.’</p> + +<p>Paula could not answer him. A big ball rose +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> +in her throat to prevent it. But she squeezed his +arm tight, and a prayer went up from her very +heart to God to make her grateful for all His +benefits.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II"> + CHAPTER II.<br> + <span>A TRIUMPHANT RETURN.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap">Amongst</span> Mrs Measures’ most intimate friends +was Lady Bristowe. She did not live in Deepdale, +but at a big place called Tor Abbey, +some miles distant, and as she was the widow +of Admiral Sir Thomas Bristowe, and had a +large income, the country people considered +her to be a very grand lady indeed. In reality +she was a very uninteresting personage. Her +fat, soft, foolish face, with its triple chins, was +always good-natured and smiling, but her intellect +was at the lowest ebb, and she was ready +to be swayed by every contrary wind of doctrine, +and to believe all that was told to her. +Had it not been, indeed, for the sagacity of her +companion, Miss Sarah Brennan, Lady Bristowe +would have been oftener taken in than she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> +was. Miss Brennan was a sharp, keen woman, +between thirty and forty years of age, with a +suspicious nature, an evil tongue, and a propensity +for the society of the lower classes. +She was half a lady’s maid and half a companion, +of sufficient unimportance to be thrust +in the background whenever it was convenient +for her employer to do so, and yet considered +good enough to sit with Lady Bristowe, and +take her meals at table, whenever there was no +one better to be procured. For, with all her +riches, her ladyship was a lonely woman, and +wanted an object in life. She had but one +child—a son, who was in the Royal Navy, and +generally away at sea—and she soon tired of +her country amusements, her poultry yard and +flower garden and pet spaniels, when she had +no one but Miss Sarah Brennan to talk to +about them. It was this reason that had made +her take to driving over to see Mrs Measures +much oftener than was convenient to that busy +little woman. She would be just looking over +the vicar’s linen, perhaps—or making a cake +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> +for Sunday, or superintending the pickling of +gherkins, or the boiling of raspberry jam—when +up the vicarage drive would come rolling the +open barouche of Lady Bristowe, with its +grand bay horses and its pompous men-servants, +and her ladyship’s portly figure occupying all +the front seat, while Sarah Brennan sat at +the back, with a couple of Blenheim spaniels. +But Mrs Measures had never had the heart to +repulse her ladyship’s friendship. She was +too good-natured to do so, and Lady Bristowe +was too good-natured for anyone to be angry +with. She beamed with good-nature. She pressed +her benefits on those she liked, until it became +impossible to refuse them. And her fat, foolish +face would shake with laughter over the silliest +story or the feeblest joke, whilst her companion +sat opposite, with hard, stony eyes and +tightly compressed lips, the very model of a +dangerous and unsympathetic woman. Naturally +Mrs Measures soon confided the history of Hal +Rushton’s love and marriage to Lady Bristowe. +She had called one day when the vicar’s wife +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> +was on the point of going over to Highbridge +Hall, and she had told her all about it. Not +<em>quite</em> all, perhaps, for she omitted two of the leading +incidents, one being Paula Stafford’s quarrel +with the churchwardens, the other that Hal’s +father’s widow was such a low and uneducated +person. Mrs Measures considered herself justified +in withholding these facts, since she did not +see the use of repeating them, nor what business +they were of anyone but the parties concerned. +So Lady Bristowe was left to imagine that the +pretty school teacher had relinquished her situation +on purpose to marry the handsome young +farmer, and she thought it a most romantic +story. Indeed, she became quite enthusiastic +about it, and all the more so because Paula had +turned out to be the daughter of a naval officer. +The Royal Navy was Lady Bristowe’s ‘fetish.’ +Her father and her brothers had all been sailors. +She had married a sailor, and her only child +was a sailor, so that to pick up anything that +had belonged to the navy in Deepdale seemed +like treasure-trove in her eyes. She became +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> +quite anxious for the return of the bride and +bridegroom, that she might become personally +acquainted with young Mrs Rushton, and bestow +some of her favours upon her.</p> + +<p>‘I have so few friends, you know, dear Mrs +Measures,’ she said. ‘There is positively no one +fit to associate with about here except yourself +and Miss Levenson of Pryde and Lord and +Lady Warden at Cheath Hall. It will be a +real pleasure if this young lady will visit me +occasionally at Tor Abbey. Oh, not just yet, +of course,’ she continued, smiling broadly; ‘we +must give them time to grow a little tired of +each other’s company. <em>We</em> know what it is at +first, don’t we, Mrs Measures? You haven’t forgotten, +I daresay, any more than myself, all the +billing and cooing, and the dears and the darlings. +The men are all alike, my dear. But it +wears off very soon, that’s the funny part of it,’ +and Lady Bristowe chuckled over the idea until +her face was crimson.</p> + +<p>‘It is lucky it <em>does</em> wear off,’ replied the +vicar’s wife, ‘or it would sadly interfere with the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> +business of life. I wonder how the house or +the servants or the babies would get on if +marriage were one long honeymoon.’</p> + +<p>‘Talking of houses,’ said Lady Bristowe, ‘I +should like to see over Highbridge Hall next +time you go there, if you don’t think the young +people would consider it an impertinence.’</p> + +<p>‘I am <em>sure</em> they would not,’ replied Mrs +Measures warmly. ‘They ought to be flattered +by the interest you take in it. The workmen +have not quite finished there yet, and I go over +every afternoon to see how they are getting on, +for we expect Mr and Mrs Rushton home the +second week in September.’</p> + +<p>‘They come to the vicarage first, do they +not?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, for a week. I thought I could help +Paula to put the finishing touches to her house +better if she were staying here instead of at +Highbridge Hall.’</p> + +<p>‘I shall come over and make their acquaintance +whilst they are with you,’ said Lady +Bristowe.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p> + +<p>‘They will be pleased, I am sure,’ responded +her friend, ‘and I am equally certain you will +be pleased with them. I can assure you I +look upon them as quite my best friends in +Deepdale.’</p> + +<p>This conversation led to a visit to Highbridge +Hall, where good-natured Lady Bristowe discovered +that the little greenhouse was rather +scantily furnished, and insisted upon filling it +with exotics from her magnificent glasshouses +at Tor Abbey.</p> + +<p>‘We mustn’t let the bride come home and +find anything wanting,’ she said. ‘Now, really, +my dear, you must let me have my way in this +little matter. You know we have dozens of +plants more than we can use; indeed, my +gardener, Bennett, makes an income out of selling +my seedlings. I shall order him to stock +this little house for the winter.’</p> + +<p>‘I am sure Paula will deeply appreciate your +kindness, Lady Bristowe. I believe the child +loves flowers above everything else, but Mr +Rushton has not turned his attention hitherto +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> +to ornamental gardening. He is fonder of his +stables. However, Paula will keep him up to +it now.’</p> + +<p>A few days after Mrs Measures mentioned +that the day for their return was fixed upon, +and she intended to meet them at the Haltham +station and bring them home.</p> + +<p>‘What <em>in</em>, my dear?’ inquired her ladyship.</p> + +<p>Mrs Measures laughed a little, and said,—</p> + +<p>‘Well, I mean to drive into Haltham in our +own chaise, but as it only holds two, I shall +leave the man to bring it home, and hire an open +fly from Moore, which will carry us all three, +and the luggage into the bargain.’</p> + +<p>‘Nonsense, my dear Mrs Measures; you will +do no such thing. You will take my carriage. +Fancy bringing a bride and bridegroom home +in a musty old fly. I won’t hear of it. They +must have the barouche, and are as welcome to +it as the flowers in May.’</p> + +<p>‘But, my dear Lady Bristowe, this is going +too far. The Rushtons have no such claim on +you. They are quite simple young people, you +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> +must remember, and I am afraid it would +seem like putting them under too deep an +obligation.’</p> + +<p>‘What, my lending my carriage to <em>you</em>. No, +no, you don’t get out of it that way. It is at +your disposal on the tenth, and will be at the +vicarage in time to meet the four o’clock train +at Haltham.’</p> + +<p>‘You are so kind, I don’t know how to refuse +you,’ murmured Mrs Measures, who yet saw the +advantage to her young friends of such an acquaintance, +‘but it seems too bad to deprive you +of your carriage this fine weather for even an +afternoon. What will you do without it, Lady +Bristowe?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I was going to propose that, as there +are four seats in the barouche, I would drive into +Haltham with you, that is to say if I should not +be in the way.’</p> + +<p>‘<em>In the way!</em> in your own carriage. How +can you suggest such a thing?’ replied the vicar’s +wife reproachfully; ‘indeed you are altogether too +good, and I am sure Hal and Paula will say +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> +the same. This will make their home coming +quite a triumphal return.’</p> + +<p>And in her heart Mrs Measures was secretly +delighted at the idea of the envy and surprise +which would be excited in the breasts of Paula’s +enemies by the open interest displayed in her +by the lady of Tor Abbey. Of course everybody +in Deepdale knew that she was expected +to return home with her husband on the tenth +of September, and many were the speculations +as to whether she would feel her position so +acutely as to hide her confusion in a close fly, +or whether she would be brazen enough to +drive through the village in an open one. Mrs +Gribble, whose ‘viller’ was situated some way +past the vicarage, took the trouble to walk +down to Mrs Axworthy’s cottage, which stood +on the way to Haltham, in order to watch +from her front window for the Rushtons’ return, +and Mrs Axworthy sent her son Jemmy some +little distance up the road in order that he +might run back and let them know as soon +as ever the fly came in sight. Mrs Measures, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> +the better to baulk their curiosity, and render +the <i lang="fr">dénoûement</i> the more striking, had herself +driven over to the Abbey that morning and +persuaded her friend to go to Haltham by +another route, so that the residents in Deepdale +were quite ignorant that she had started to +meet the newly married couple.</p> + +<p>‘I suppose,’ said Mrs Gribble to Mrs Axworthy, +‘that the vicar’s wife is a-fussing and a-fuming +in the kitchen because her dear Miss Stafford +is coming ’ome. Redikerlous! Mrs Poland says +she sent in two ducks and an ’am there yesterday +morning. Mutton and beef ain’t good enough, +I suppose, for such as she. She may be thankful +if she finds meat in her mouth to her life’s end, +for notwithstanding all the fuss they’re a-making +about her, she ain’t no good, Mrs Axworthy, and +that they’ll find out to their cost before many +years is over their ’eads. I pities that pore +young man from the bottom of my ’eart. He ain’t +been all he should have been, perhaps, to his +stepma, but he’s deserving of a better lot than +this anyway.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span></p> + +<p>‘So <em>I</em> sez,’ responded Mrs Axworthy, ‘but +Mr Haxworthy, <em>he</em> say that they’re much of +a muchness. Young Hal Rushton was always +stuck-up and himperent to his helders, and that’s +a bad sign in a young man. Shall you have a +good view of them from where you hare, Mrs +Gribble, or shall we go hupstairs?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no, thank you, I can see beautiful,’ +replied Mrs Gribble, who was ensconced behind +a lace window curtain; ‘not that I cares much +how the minx looks, or don’t look, for never +does she darken my doors, after the insult she +paid Mr Gribble, and she needn’t think it. I +daresay she thinks, now she’s a-coming ’ome as +Mrs Rushton, and the ’All’s been fresh done up +for ’er, that the ladies of Deepdale will forget +all that’s gone before, and be ready to congratulate +’er upon ’er marriage. But not <em>me</em>, Mrs +Axworthy. I ain’t made of sich stuff. I’ve got +a very true ’eart, and a very feeling one, but I +can’t forget a hinsult, nor yet a hinjury, nor I +don’t consider as Mrs Rushton is a proper person +for any of us ladies to pass the time of day to.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well,’ said her friend contemplatively, ‘me +and Haxworthy have had many a talk over it, +and he says as how we stand in a difficult +position with regard to the vicarage. There +is no doubt that, right or wrong, Mr and Mrs +Measures <em>have</em> took up Miss Stafford (or Mrs +Rushton, as I should say), and he don’t want +to lose the churchwardenship, nor have any +misunderstanding with the vicar. And he says +that no doubt ’Al Rushton will be giving +parties on ’is return, in order to make things +straight for his wife, and he thinks it will be +the dooty of us ladies to visit ’er, cool-like if +you choose, but still to go to the ’All, and +keep in with the vicarage for our gentlemen’s +sakes.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, well, if they gives pleasant parties, +dances and garden “feets,” and suchlike, I don’t +know as I mightn’t try to overlook the past,’ +replied Mrs Gribble affably, ‘but I can never +like ’er, Mrs Axworthy—<em>never</em>!’</p> + +<p>‘Ma, ma!’ cried Jemmy, tearing into the +room, breathless and dusty, ‘the carriage is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> +a-coming over the ’ill now, and it’s got two +’orses and two coachmen.’</p> + +<p>‘Two ’orses, Jem!’ echoed his mother. ‘It +can’t never be the Rushtons, then. It must +be Lady Bristowe or Lady Warden driving +through Deepdale. Why, there ain’t a two-’orse +fly in all Haltham!’</p> + +<p>‘It’s Lady Bristowe’s barouche; I can see +the green liveries,’ said Mrs Gribble, as she +gazed through the curtain, with Mrs Axworthy +leaning over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>The open carriage drew nearer. It was going +at a rapid rate, and the horses’ coats were +slightly flecked with foam. In it were seated +four people. On the front seat, Lady Bristowe, +with the bride by her side, and on the back, +Hal and Mrs Measures; and all three ladies +held enormous bouquets of flowers, Paula’s being +made entirely of white blossoms. They +all looked very happy, and were talking and +laughing together; but they passed the window +like a flash of lightning, and left nothing but +a cloud of dust behind them. Mrs Gribble +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> +and Mrs Axworthy looked at one another +with undissembled surprise.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I <em>never</em>!’ cried the latter, as soon as +she found her tongue, ‘if it wasn’t them, after +all, and in Lady Bristowe’s carriage, sitting +there as ’igh and mighty as you choose, and +as if it all belonged to them. And did you +see her ’at, Mrs Gribble, ma’am, with a +white feather curled round it, and a fawn +Newmarket coat? What next? Well, wonders +will never cease! And how did her ladyship +come to know ’em as intimate as all that? +That’s some of Mrs Measures’ doings, I’ll be +bound. Lady Bristowe is always at the vicarage; +but to visit a parson’s wife is a different +thing. Well, if I hadn’t seen it with my own +heyes, I wouldn’t never have believed it.’</p> + +<p>‘Nor me neither,’ rejoined the other lady. +‘“It’s the ungodly flourishing like a green bay +tree,” as the scripture says, and I feel as if some +’orrible dispensation must be ’anging over Deepdale +when sich injustices is allowed. Miss +Stafford riding in her ladyship’s barouche, when +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> +she ain’t never so much as taken any notice of +<em>me</em>, as everyone knows for miles around to be +the churchwarden’s lawful wife. Well, I must +go ’ome and tell Mr Gribble this, for he’d never +believe it from any lips but mine.’</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Hal and Paula had been anything +but elated by the honour so unexpectedly paid +to them. They would much rather have driven +home quietly by themselves, or in the company +of Mrs Measures. To see her kind face on the +platform of Haltham station had been a real +pleasure. Hal Rushton had wrung her hand, +exclaiming, ‘This <em>is</em> a surprise! How very +good of you. Paula will be as delighted as +myself,’ and turned to communicate the news +to his wife, as she alighted from the carriage. +But when Mrs Measures had replied, ‘I am +not alone. My friend Lady Bristowe, who is +anxious to make your acquaintance, has driven +me over in her barouche, and intends to take +us all back to the vicarage,’ the young people, +though rather overwhelmed, were obliged to +consent. And Lady Bristowe had been so +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> +effusive in her welcome, too. She had shaken +Hal’s hand as if she had known him all his +life, and insisted upon kissing the pretty, pathetic-looking +bride. So the luggage was dispatched +in Moore’s fly, and the party returned in triumph, +as we have seen, to Deepdale. The bouquets +had been rather a trial to Hal. Like most +men, he abhorred anything like publicity or +display, but the flowers were there, and Lady +Bristowe would take no denial. And as a +palliative to being carried through the village +as if they were going to the races or the hustings, +there was the undoubted fact that her +ladyship had paid his young wife a great +compliment, and that the acquaintance might +be of service to her. Mrs Gribble and Mrs +Axworthy were not the only people in Deepdale +who saw and commented on this unexpected +return. Every window in the village +held a face or two, full of disappointment and +surprise. Deepdale had intended to be condescending +to Mr and Mrs Hal Rushton if it +found it worth its while to be so, but in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> +face of Lady Bristowe’s patronage it began to +fear that its condescension might be overlooked. +Her ladyship would not enter the vicarage, +for Paula seemed tired, although her face was +flushed, and she said she ought to take a rest. +But she did not part from her without finding +out the Christian name of her late father, that +she might look him up in the <cite>Navy List</cite> as soon +as she got home, and she assured the young +couple that she should be one of the first to +welcome them when they took possession of +their own house, and she hoped very soon to +see them both at Tor Abbey. And then she +enfolded Paula once more in her ample embrace, +and thrusting all the bouquets in her +hands, she drove smiling away.</p> + +<p>‘The most good-natured woman in the world,’ +said Mrs Measures, as she led the way into the +cool vicarage parlour, ‘and one whom I hope +will be a good friend to you, Paula. She is +very rich, and has no near relations on which +to bestow her benefits, and she has taken such +a fancy to you because your father was in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> +navy. You must take everything she chooses +to give you, my dear, and be very sweet to her +in return, for she knows all the county families, +and is really a person of importance.’</p> + +<p>‘I am sure we are very much obliged for her +kindness,’ replied Hal; ‘but I’m afraid the +county families will be a cut above us, Mrs +Measures.’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know why they should be. A man +can be no more than a gentleman, and now +that you have got rid of that objectionable +widow, there is no obstacle to your receiving +anybody in your house. But let me show Paula +to her room, that she may take off her things.’</p> + +<p>When they descended to the parlour again a +substantial meal was spread upon the table, and +the vicar was present. He saluted them kindly, +but rather gravely, at least Paula imagined he +was more cordial with Hal than with herself. +He called the former ‘dear boy,’ and shook him +warmly by the hand, but to her he only expressed +a wish that her married life might be +long and happy. Afterwards, on thinking it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> +over, she blamed herself for blaming him. It +was foolish of her to have forgotten that he had +known her husband from a child, and she was +a comparative stranger to him. Still, something +in the tone of his voice had reminded her of +the day that she had been catechised by him +in that same room, in the presence of his +churchwardens, and told her that he had not +forgotten it either. This feeling, added to her +fatigue, made Paula unusually quiet during the +evening meal, and Mrs Measures remarked that +her gay spirits had suddenly flagged.</p> + +<p>‘It is the fatigue of the long railway journey,’ +said Hal, looking fondly at her. ‘She is not a +very strong little body, Mrs Measures, and we +must pack her off to bed early to-night, in +order that she may recover herself.’</p> + +<p>Something had certainly occurred to depress +Paula’s spirits, for when the meal was concluded, +and she crept into the vicarage garden +after her husband, she was as white as a lily.</p> + +<p>‘My darling,’ he exclaimed, as he kissed the +slight hand she thrust within his arm, ‘to-day +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> +has been too much for you. My White Rose +looks quite drooping. Won’t you be good, and +go to bed, whilst I run over to the Hall and +have a look at the dogs and horses?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no, Hal,’ she answered earnestly, clinging +to him. ‘Please let me go with you. I +am not too tired—indeed, I am not—and I +should so love to see <em>our</em> house, love, and <em>our</em> +garden.’</p> + +<p>‘But, Paula, it is nearly a mile from this.’</p> + +<p>‘It will do me good to walk. I have been +sitting all day. Can’t you see that it is the +heat, dear, that makes me look so pale? A +little walk in the cool evening air will do me +all the good in the world.’</p> + +<p>‘All right, then. Get your hat, and we’ll be +off. I’ll tell Mrs Measures where we are going.’</p> + +<p>In another minute they were pacing together +the quiet country fields that lay between the +vicarage and the Hall.</p> + +<p>‘Do you know,’ said Paula, when they were +out of human earshot, ‘why I longed to come +with you this evening, Hal? It was just in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> +order to find myself alone with you again, +like we were at Lynmouth. To-day, with all its +bustle and publicity and congratulation, we +have seemed to be wider apart than we were +yesterday. It is all kindness, I know, but it +comes between us, and I want you—<em>you only</em>.’</p> + +<p>‘You silly girl,’ said Hal, venturing to kiss +the white face upturned to his, ‘shall we not +be always together for the rest of our lives? +Why, you’ll be sick of me before long, Paula, +after the fashion of modern wives, and looking +out for someone else to admire you and +say pretty things to you.’</p> + +<p>‘Never, never, Hal! Don’t speak like that. +You pain me.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, then, I won’t, until it happens. But +I agree with you, darling. We are never so +happy as when we are alone. For my own +part, I would rather have gone straight home +to the Hall, even if it were not quite ready +for us, but Mrs Measures’ offer was so kind, +and so evidently came from her heart, that I +did not think it possible to refuse it.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span></p> + +<p>‘Oh, no! And don’t think I am ungrateful +to such a kind friend as she is to us. Only, +our <em>own</em> home! It will be so delightful to find +ourselves there, won’t it, Hal?’</p> + +<p>‘It will be the heaven I have dreamt of, +Paula,’ he replied.</p> + +<p>‘This is the extent to which I have yet +gone,’ said Paula, as they reached the gates of +the Hall, and caught a glimpse through them +of the lawn and flower garden, which were +approached by a handsome drive bordered +by rhododendron and other flowering shrubs. +‘You don’t know, Hal, how often the poor +school teacher walked this way in the evenings, +and peered through those gates, and +wondered if her handsome friend were anywhere +about, or if he guessed how she regarded +him.’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t allude to those hateful days, my +Paula; never think of them again,’ cried Hal, +as he swung open the wide gates for her to +pass through. ‘You are in your own domains +now, darling, “Monarch of all you survey,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> +and God bless you for consenting to queen it +over them and me.’</p> + +<p>He raised his hat as he spoke, and Paula +thought a wife had never had a more chivalrous +welcome to her new home. The house +and grounds were naturally looking their best, +and she was enchanted with everything she +saw. She had not thought it would be half +so beautiful, nor that Hal’s head and heart +would have been filled with so much care for +her. Soft tears hung trembling on her eyelashes +as she realised her happiness, and she +could find no words in which to express her +feelings. She could only cling close to her +husband’s arm, and whisper her love to him, +as he pointed out the alterations he had made +and the improvements he had effected in the +different departments. His stables were his +great pride, and he was not satisfied till Paula +had inspected his two tall hunters, the mare +he drove in his dog-cart, and the little pony +for her basket-carriage.</p> + +<p>‘We only want a riding horse for the mistress, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> +Derrick, and then I think we shall be complete,’ +he said to the groom. ‘By-the-way, has +Mr Ashfold sent over any message about his +chestnut filly? I wrote to him about it from +Lynmouth.’</p> + +<p>‘Mr Ashfold was over here last week, sir,’ +replied Derrick, touching his forelock, ‘and the +little mare ain’t quite herself—got cold or +summat—or he would have sent her over for +the lady to try. But he expected she would +be all right by now.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I must write again and ask after her. +Where’s Joe?’</p> + +<p>‘He’s out somewhere with the dogs, sir. I +don’t let him go till I’ve brought the horses +in from exercise. He’ll be back before long.’</p> + +<p>‘Are the dogs all right?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir. “Queenie” whelped down a litter +of five the day before yesterday, but she’s +locked up in the outhouse, and Joe’s took the +key.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, they ought to be A1, if they live. +Come, dear, I won’t let you stand about any +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> +longer. We will walk over and see the dogs +to-morrow. Why, it is past eight. Mrs +Measures will be expecting us home.’</p> + +<p>‘One more turn round the garden, Hal,’ +pleaded Paula, ‘it is so lovely. I think I shall +sit out here all day. What is that grand dark +tree whose branches sweep the ground?’</p> + +<p>‘A cedar, dear. It is grand, as you say, but +it destroys the grass underneath it. I prefer +the mulberry and walnut trees. I can’t +tell you how many hundred years old this +mulberry tree is. It has stood here for +generations. And it has a fine promise of fruit +on it, too. Do you like mulberries?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I <em>love</em> them!’ cried Paula childishly. ‘I +shall have black teeth all day long as soon as +they are ripe.’</p> + +<p>‘Greedy girl. We will carry out an arm-chair +to the kitchen garden, and there you shall sit +and gorge, till we have to carry you back in +it. By-the-way, you haven’t seen the fruit and +vegetable garden yet. It is close by—behind +that wall. Come and be introduced to old +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> +Potter, the gardener. Old Potterer, as I call him; +but he’s a good old servant, and will adore you.’</p> + +<p>He pulled her playfully away from the lawn +as he spoke, and opened a door in the stone +wall that enclosed the fruit garden. The evening +was still light, and every object discernible, +although the green leaves had assumed a +greyer tint in the fading day.</p> + +<p>‘I expect Potter has gone home. I think he +generally strikes work at seven. I have some +splendid peach trees here, Paula. I wish we +could find a basket. We would take some +peaches to Mrs Measures. They must be in +perfection now.’</p> + +<p>‘There is someone moving at the bottom +of the garden, Hal,’ said Paula, ‘don’t you see, +close to the wall.’</p> + +<p>‘By Jove! yes. It’s Potter picking the fruit. +I told him to let the cook preserve what ripened +during our absence. Let us go and stop his +depredations.’</p> + +<p>They ran down the walk together hand in +hand like two children, and startled the figure +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> +next the wall, which turned out to be not the +gardener but the widowed Mrs Rushton, with +a market-basket on her arm, which she was +busily filling with fruit. Hal perceived the +situation at a glance, and his face darkened.</p> + +<p>‘Mrs Rushton,’ he exclaimed, ‘what on earth +are you doing here?’</p> + +<p>The widow’s freckled and unwholesome looking +face appeared quite ghastly in the half +light, as she turned it towards them and stepped +quickly off the garden bed.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, ’Al!’ she replied, ‘is that you? I ’eard +you was expected to-day at the vicarage, but +I didn’t think to meet you ’ere.’</p> + +<p>‘I suppose not; but I conclude you see +I have my wife with me?’ replied Hal +haughtily.</p> + +<p>‘To be sure, and I ’ope I sees you well, +ma’am,’ said the widow, as she thrust forth a +horny hand for Paula to shake. ‘I’ve been +quite busy picking up the peaches. There’s +such a many on ’em, and they do lie and rot +so, it seems a pity. But we was always +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> +famous for our fruit at the ’All, wasn’t we, +’Al?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes. But I see no necessity for <em>your</em> picking +them up, Mrs Rushton. Our servants are +surely capable of doing that, and I gave Potter +my orders respecting the wall fruit before I +left. Did you consult him about it?’</p> + +<p>‘Consult Mr Potter?’ cried the widow, tossing +her head, ‘why, certainly <em>not</em>. It would be +a strange thing, I think, if <em>I</em>, who ’as lived +in this ’ouse as my own for ten year, should +demean myself to consult a gardener before I +picks up a few peaches.’</p> + +<p>‘But why give yourself the trouble?’ continued +Hal, taking the basket, which was full to +the brim with the choicest fruit, from her hand. +‘It is very good of you, of course, but there is +no need. However, as it happens, you have +saved Mrs Rushton and myself the task of picking +them, as we were just about to do, for Mrs +Measures. Is this <em>your</em> basket?’</p> + +<p>‘No, I suppose not. Nothink seems mine +nowadays. I took it from the tool ’ouse. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> +Times is wonderful changed, ma’am,’ she continued, +to Paula, ‘but it’s Time only as will +show if it’s for the better. Pride ’as its fall, +as well as misfortin’, and it’s only dooty as +brings a blessing. But I wish you ’ealth and +’appiness, ma’am, for to enjoy what you’ve got. +Good-evening.’</p> + +<p>And with that Mrs Rushton swept up the +garden path and disappeared.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Hal, you have mortally offended her,’ +said Paula.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t care if I have. She sha’n’t steal +our peaches, if I can help it. I suppose she’s +been filling her basket every day during our +absence. I will have the key of the fruit +garden brought into the house for the future, +and give Potter strict orders to admit no one +but ourselves. By Jove! this basket is heavy. +She must have got about twenty pounds in +it. But it’s her last attempt at thieving. I’ll +take care of that.’</p> + +<p>‘How vicious she looked, Hal. There was +quite a lurid light in her green eyes whilst +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> +she was pretending to wish me well. I am +sure she hates me for having usurped her +place at the Hall.’</p> + +<p>‘No, Paula, not <em>her</em> place. She has had no +right here since my father’s death. But I daresay +she bears you no goodwill, for she is a +malicious, evil-natured person.’</p> + +<p>‘She is horrible,’ acquiesced Paula, ‘and I wish +we had not met her here on the first occasion +of our seeing our dear home together. It seems +like an evil omen—as if she were a malignant +fairy who had the power to blight our happiness +if we offended her.’</p> + +<p>‘Now, my darling, you’re getting silly, which +proves you are over-tired. How lucky I thought +of telling Derrick to pop “Tubby” into the +pony chaise. Jump in, and I’ll put the widow’s +spoils at your feet. That’s it! Now, the +reins, Derrick. I am just going to show the +mistress what her new pony is made of, and as +soon as I have dropped her at the vicarage +I’ll bring him back again.’</p> + +<p>And as ‘Tubby’ trotted at a good pace +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> +through the flower-scented lanes, and Hal’s +loving words were poured into her ears, Paula +forgot her passing dismay at Widow Rushton’s +greeting, and thought only of the great happiness +before her.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III"> + CHAPTER III.<br> + <span>PAULA’S VISITORS.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap">The</span> incident of the ‘rape of the peaches,’ +though considered an excellent joke at the +vicarage, was looked upon in a totally different +light by the inhabitants of Wavertree Cottage. +Mrs Rushton returned home, fuming over the +insult she declared she had received, to relate +the story to her son Edward Snaley, who was +idling the evening away by lolling over the +window sill in his shirt sleeves, and smoking a +black briar-root pipe. As the widow finished her +abuse of her stepson’s behaviour, he withdrew +from the window and took a seat by the table, +leaning his elbows upon it.</p> + +<p>Ted Snaley has not figured prominently in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> +these pages yet, but he was by no means an +unimportant tool in his mother’s hands, and +more than ready to further any scheme of revenge +which she might be inclined to carry out. +He hated his stepbrother Hal Rushton. The +dislike had commenced long before their parents +had become united, when Ted was a malicious +lad, given to torturing animals and oppressing +smaller children, and Hal had given him one +or two thrashings for his cruelty. When his +mother married old Farmer Rushton, she had +made Ted believe that he would inherit half +(if not all) the property at her own death, and +he had never forgiven Hal for stepping in (as +he termed it) between his prospects and himself. +He had always hated him, and done everything +he could think of to annoy him, even +whilst he was being entertained under his roof, +and now that he had been turned out of the +Hall, he hated him still more. His green, white-lashed +eyes gleamed with an evil fire as he +leaned forward on the table and confronted the +widow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> + +<p>‘Mother,’ he said, ‘I want to have a serious +talk with you about this. We must have no +more fooling about it. Are we going to keep +in with the ’All, or are we not? We must decide +that there question afore I says another +word.’</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, Ted, how you do talk, to be sure! In +course we must keep in with ’em, drat ’em both. +But how are we to live here comfortable else? +<em>You</em> won’t work in this gardin, you know. +You’re a deal too lazy, and a ’undred a year +won’t go far towards keeping the ’ouse up. You’ve +bin brought up like a gentleman since I married +old Rushton, and you won’t like to miss your +luxuries. But I don’t know where you’ll get +’em, unless it’s in pickin’s from the ’All.’</p> + +<p>‘<em>Pickin’s from the ’All</em>,’ repeated Snaley witheringly. +‘Yes, and I means to ’ave pickin’s from +the ’All, but not the sort as you want. Wot’s +the good of getting ’Al’s back up for the sake +of a few paltry peaches? How’ll that ’elp us? +No, what I means is this—are we game for a +big thing, or are we not? ’Cos if we are, we +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> +must go on a new tack, and be very partikeler +they don’t see our ’and.’</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, Ted,’ cried the widow, closing the +window and drawing her chair close to his, +‘you’re a sharp ’un, I know, but whatever would +you be at?’</p> + +<p>‘Mother,’ said Snaley in a low voice, ‘you’re +a good nuss, I know, when you chooses, but +don’t you think as the old man might have +lasted a little longer if you ’adn’t been there?’</p> + +<p>He fixed his piercing little eyes upon her +with so elfish a look as he spoke that the +widow’s pale face grew yellow beneath his +scrutiny.</p> + +<p>‘Bless me, lad, no! What a hidea! And of +your own mother, too. Lor’, Ted, you can’t +think what you’re a-saying of.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, I do; and I means what I says, +too. And what ’arm was it, now? I’m sure +that old beggar ’ad been about long enough, +and was only a nuisance. But <em>I</em> see’d you +pour stuff into his beef-tea more times than +one.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span></p> + +<p>‘’Twas only to make the poor dear sleep, +Ted.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sure; and a good long sleep, too. It +sent him to kingdom come before his time. And +I’m ready to join you in another little game +of the same sort, for I know <em>we’ll</em> never split +upon each other.’</p> + +<p>‘Split on you, my boy! I’d rather ’ang myself +first. But do you mean ’Al? What would +be the good of it, Ted?’</p> + +<p>‘Why, ain’t he left half the property to me +in his will? Didn’t he use to tell us so?’</p> + +<p>‘Lord love you, lad, you’re simple. D’ye +suppose he hasn’t made another will since his +marriage, and bequeathed it all to that white-faced +’ussy? In course. We should only be +’elping ’er to it all the sooner.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, we must fix the blame on ’er, then. +That won’t be difficult. Make ’un sick first, +and put the stuff in ’er pocket or box or summat. +<em>I’ll</em> find the way to do it, never you fear, +when the right time comes, but it won’t be yet +for a long spell. And it won’t be never, unless +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> +we’re on easy terms with the ’All people, and +hin and hout, as if it was our own ’ouse.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, if <em>she’ll</em> let us,’ responded his mother; +‘but she’s a deep ’un, my dear. You should +have seen ’er look at me to-night when she saw +them few trumpery peaches, as much as to say, +“You’ve bin a-stealing of <em>my</em> fruit.” I wish it +may choke ’er.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, you mustn’t take no more fruit, nor +heggs, nor nothink. Let ’em give ’em to us. +They’ll do it sure enough if we only plays our +cards well. Be very haffable to ’em, and hoffer +to help ’em in the ’ouse, or advise the young +mistress, and then when their heyes is shut, and +they think we don’t want nothink of ’em, that’ll +be the time to lay our plans. It’ll come as easy +for you then to nuss him as it did to nuss +his father.’</p> + +<p>‘You’re a clever lad, my Ted, a very clever +lad. You ought to have been brought up for +a liyar,’ said his mother admiringly, only she +meant a limb of the law and not an Ananias.</p> + +<p>‘I’m proud you think so,’ returned her son, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> +‘and if you’re in ’arnest, take my advice and +be as haffable as hever you can. When they +return home, you go up to the ’All, and take +the bride a present. Just a bucket of flowers, +or a pincushion, or what not. ’Tain’t the value +of the thing, but the hattention as will put ’em +off their guard. And don’t say no more spiteful +things, mother, but talk a little soft-like +about the old ’un, and say ’ow good he was +to you and me, and ’ow you loves the old ’ouse +for ’is sake. A pint of ile will go further with +them than a gallon of vinegar. You see if I +ain’t right.’</p> + +<p>‘I believe you are, Ted, my boy,’ said the +widow, ‘and you must have got all your cunning +from me, for your father was a downright fool.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, never mind ’im,’ exclaimed Snaley; ‘he +won’t never trouble you any more. But do as +I say, and you’ll see ’ow things will work up +arter a while. Meantime, we’ll think it out. It’ll +want a lot of thinking out, mother, and we +must go about it very slow and careful, but by +’ook or by crook I’m determined to work my +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> +way back into ’Ighbridge ’All, if I ’ave to step +over a grave to git there.’</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, Ted, don’t talk like that,’ cried Mrs +Rushton, with a shudder; ‘them’s words to <em>think</em> +on, my dear, but ’tain’t safe to speak ’em aloud, +not even to your mother.’</p> + +<p>‘All right, but don’t you forget ’em now +you’ve ’eard ’em. I shall be planning this day +and night until I see my way to something. +Curse that interfering old parson. I’d like to +give ’im one for his nob at the same time. If +it hadn’t been for ’im, you and me would be +owning the ’All to-day.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s sure enough, Ted, and I’d like to +serve ’im out, and ’is smug-faced wife, too. +Well, none of us know what’s in the future, +nor ’ow things mayn’t turn out. I’m glad to +see you’ve got sich a sperrit, Ted, and I ’ope +it’ll carry you through heverythink.’</p> + +<p>‘Never fear. But, remember, mother, the <em>first</em> +thing is to get on a hamicable footing at the +’All. When is they going to settle down +there?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span></p> + +<p>‘I’m not sure. I see the cook this evening, +but she didn’t know, which threw me right off +my guard, so that when I looked up and see +’em standing close to me I a’most screamed. +Lor’! you should ’ave seen the white feathers +in her ’at, Ted, and her ’air—which she used +to keep tucked up at the school’ouse—’anging +all over her face. She thinks she’s a real +lady now, she does. There’s no mistake about +that.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I doubt if she’ll look like a lady +long—not if we puts a pisening job on ’er,’ said +Ted.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, ’Al wouldn’t believe nothink against ’er. +He looked at ’er in that way, it made me +quite sick.’</p> + +<p>‘I always told you ’e was sweet on ’er,’ replied +her son, and there, for the time being, +the conversation ended.</p> + +<p>After her first visit to the Hall, Paula felt +a continually increasing desire to settle in +her new home. She panted to be free of the +vicarage, and find herself alone with her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> +husband, and busying herself with the multifarious +duties that awaited her. Mrs Measures +did everything in her power to make the +visit agreeable to her, and was always affectionate +and kind, but her manner contrasted +too favourably with that of the vicar. Mr +Measures was not deficient in courtesy to +his fair guest, but he continued so grave +and uncommunicative that his presence invariably +made Paula uncomfortable, and gave +her the sense of being in the way. After +a few days she confided her feelings to +Hal.</p> + +<p>‘I <em>wish</em> we were at home,’ she sighed. ‘There +is something about the vicarage that depresses +me. Do you know, Hal, I am sure Mr +Measures has never forgiven me about that +little affair with Seth Brunt. He always +addresses me in such a solemn manner, and +yesterday, when I went into the dining-room, +where he was reading, he got up with his +book and left the room.’</p> + +<p>Hal Rushton flushed with annoyance, but pretended +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> +all the same that there was nothing to +be annoyed at.</p> + +<p>‘Nonsense, my darling. He was only afraid +your chatter might distract him from his +studies. Clergymen have to read up sometimes, +you know, in order to write their sermons. +You mustn’t be a goose, and fancy things.’</p> + +<p>‘But I don’t think this is fancy, Hal. He +was very much annoyed with me at the time. +Mrs Measures said so, and I suppose he still +suspects me of not having told the truth.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, tell it to him now, then, if you think +it best, Paula.’</p> + +<p>‘How can I say more than I did? I told +them Brunt was an old servant, and they would +not believe me. It was that odious Mr Gribble +who tried to make out that it was improper. +Mr Measures would have taken my word for +it if it had not been for his suggestions.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, very well,’ replied Hal hastily, ‘“Least +said, soonest mended.” I should not open +the subject again if I were you.’</p> + +<p>It was a sore remembrance to the young +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> +husband, for he knew the interpretation the +villagers had put upon it. And to reveal one +link of the chain of a story which had been +related in the public papers was to give a +clue to that portion of Paula’s life which he +wished so earnestly to be forgotten. But the +next moment his arm was round his wife’s +waist, and his kisses on her cheek.</p> + +<p>‘We will go home as soon as ever we can, my +darling, on the very day our visit ends here. +And then we must think about giving a nice +party, and inviting the Measures and our other +friends to enjoy our hospitality in return.’</p> + +<p>‘We must wait, first, to see who calls on us,’ +replied Paula. ‘Perhaps no one will want to +know me, dear Hal, and then our party will +turn into a <i lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i>.’</p> + +<p>‘All the better if it would; but I have no fear,’ +exclaimed her husband.</p> + +<p>And he had no need to fear. Before Mrs +Hal Rushton had been established in her own +house a week everyone of consequence had +called on her, some from sheer curiosity, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> +others from sheer pleasure in welcoming a +new mistress to Highbridge Hall, where Hal’s +gentle mother, Edith Hereford, was still remembered +to have reigned. Lady Bristowe was +amongst the first callers, and she came armed +with a valuable present out of all proportion +to her slight acquaintance with the recipient.</p> + +<p>‘Now, my dear,’ she said, as she fastened a +gold bracelet, with a diamond anchor upon it, +on Paula’s arm, ‘you must let me have the pleasure +of making my little bride a present. It is +customary, you know. Everyone should be prepared +with a little offering, and I hope you will +wear mine for my sake.’</p> + +<p>‘But, Lady Bristowe, it is far too valuable. I +never possessed anything so handsome in my +life. And the gardener tells me I have to thank +you for stocking my greenhouse also, and that +all these pretty plants came from Tor Abbey. +How can I thank you?’</p> + +<p>‘Why, by looking as pleased and as pretty +as you do now, my dear, and by coming to see +me at the Abbey, and brightening the old place +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> +up a bit. Now, when are you and your handsome +husband coming to dine with me? Please +name an early day.’</p> + +<p>‘I must ask Hal first,’ replied Paula, blushing +and smiling, ‘and he is not at home to-day. +But I will write to you, Lady Bristowe, if that +will do as well.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, let us say next Wednesday, and then +you can write me if it’s not convenient. No +ceremony, you know, my dear. Five o’clock +dinner, and only an old woman to sit down with. +So never mind your fripperies, but bring yourself. +That’s all I care for. And now, who has +been to see you?’</p> + +<p>‘Not very many people. We only came here +the day before yesterday. The Willards and +Sheppards have called; they are both old friends +of my husband’s. And Mrs Measures has looked +in to see how I am getting on, and a funny +little old lady called Miss Foker.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, well, I daresay you’ll have more than +you want by-and-by. Callers are always a +nuisance, town or country. But I want you to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> +look on me as a friend, my dear. Don’t worry +yourself to pay me formal visits, but drive over +in your little pony chaise whenever you feel +inclined, and I shall call in sometimes to see +if you fancy a seat in my carriage.’</p> + +<p>‘Thank you so much,’ said Paula.</p> + +<p>‘It’s nothing to thank me for, my dear. Your +young face is a boon to me, and I shall not +be able to see it too often. Don’t forget about +Wednesday,’ and Lady Bristowe drove off to +make room for other visitors.</p> + +<p>As her carriage passed down the drive of +rhododendrons it caused two foot-passengers to +shrink into the bushes to prevent being run over. +They were Mrs Gribble and Mrs Axworthy, +whose respective lords and masters had decided +they must pay the bride at least <em>one</em> visit, in +order to please the vicar, and who had accordingly +set forth in company for the sake of mutual +support. Mrs Gribble was arrayed in her celebrated +plum-coloured satin, with a black velvet +bonnet, ornamented with artificial geraniums, and +Mrs Axworthy wore a black cloth cloak, down +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> +to her heels, and a bonnet of dirty white silk, +which boasted of two green feathers gracefully +drooping on one side. Both of the ladies wore +white cotton gloves for the occasion, and were +looking very red and flustered and uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I never!’ exclaimed Mrs Axworthy, as +the carriage passed them, ‘if her ladyship ain’t +been before us. Whatever makes her condescend +so? I call it bemeaning her rank. But there’s +the chay waiting at the door. ’Urry up a bit, +do, Mrs Gribble, ma’am, or we shall miss ’er, and +I don’t feel as if I could make another journey +up ’ere in this ’eat.’</p> + +<p>Paula, in fact, having thought she would have +no more visitors that afternoon, was just about +to assume her walking attire, in order to be ready +for Hal when he returned to take her for a drive, +and when she heard that the churchwardens’ +wives were in the drawing-room she decided to +put it on before she encountered them. Her +face flushed and her hand trembled as she heard +their names. She could not but remember what +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> +they had said of her, and how they had withdrawn +their vulgar little children from the contamination +of her society, and she would have +been less than woman if the near prospect of +meeting them had not made her blood rise and +called up all her pride. She lingered a little +longer over her toilet than was necessary, and +descended to the drawing-room, slowly drawing +on a long pair of mouse-coloured gloves. She +entered the door, carrying her graceful head +erect, like a stag that scents danger in the +air, and bowing to her guests, dropped into a +chair, and waited for them to open the ball. +Mrs Gribble and Mrs Axworthy became very +uncomfortable at the coolness and formality of +their reception. They had expected the self-conscious +young woman, who had been detected +in so grave a breach of discipline as to be +compelled to quit her situation, to be overcome +by the condescension of their proffered +reconciliation, instead of which she received them +as if she were an injured and offended queen, +and they two subjects humbly suing for forgiveness. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> +They were at an utter loss how to begin +the conversation; but at last Mrs Axworthy +took heart of grace to become the spokeswoman.</p> + +<p>‘Mrs Gribble and me ’ave come, Mrs Rushton, +ma’am, by the wish of our good gentlemen, to +wish you and Mr Rushton ’ealth and ’appiness +in your wedded life, and to ’ope as all bygones +may be bygones.’</p> + +<p>‘You are very good,’ replied Paula, with +studied formality.</p> + +<p>‘Perhaps you ’ardly expected to see us, ma’am, +considering how we parted. But we ’ave all +known Mr ’Al from a boy, as you may say, +and should be sorry not to be on visiting +terms with his lady. Mrs Gribble, ma’am, I +think I speak your sentiments with my own?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, certainly, yes,’ responded Mrs Gribble +nervously, as Paula still sat silent before them, +and apparently busily employed in buttoning +her long gloves.</p> + +<p>‘You ’ave a fine place ’ere, ma’am,’ continued +Mrs Axworthy, with a kind of desperation. ‘I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> +can remember the time when the first Mrs Rushton +(Miss Edith Hereford as was) lived in it. +Ah! <em>she</em> was a real lady, Mr ’Al’s mamma was, +and come of a most respectable family. Poor +dear! Poor dear! It’s a pity she couldn’t +’ave lived to see her son grow up. This was +<em>’er</em> place, you know.’</p> + +<p>‘So I have heard,’ replied Paula.</p> + +<p>‘She brought it to the old gentlemen on their +marriage. Well! well! there ’ave been sad +changes. Have you made the acquaintance of +Miss Brown, our new teacher, yet? Such a +sweet lady—so haffable and free-like, and “oily” +respectable.’</p> + +<p>‘Indeed! That must be a great advantage,’ +said Paula, with a curled lip; ‘I hope the +children will profit by it.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, they adores Miss Brown,’ exclaimed Mrs +Gribble, finding her tongue for the first time. +‘My Lottie and Carrie, they says to me as she +is a real lady, and ’as the very best of eddication.’</p> + +<p>‘That must be a great satisfaction to you, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> +Lottie and Carrie being such excellent judges,’ +replied her hostess quietly.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Mrs Axworthy had left her seat, +and approaching the window looked out on the +wide smooth-shaven lawn.</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, what an ’andsome bit o’ grass. ’Asn’t +Mr ’Al made it bigger of late, ma’am?’</p> + +<p>‘I believe my husband has taken in some of +the paddock this year.’</p> + +<p>‘It would accommodate a heap o’ people. I +suppose you’ll be giving garden “feets” and +carpet ’ops, ma’am, to celebrate your coming +’ome?’</p> + +<p>‘I do not know. Mr Rushton and I do not +care much about society.’</p> + +<p>‘Deepdale will be expecting as much,’ put in +Mrs Gribble. ‘When Mr ’Al’s mother was +married, the ’ole village was “feeted,” and they +give dinners and suppers and dances.’</p> + +<p>‘Indeed!’ said Paula. ‘But I don’t think +we know sufficient people to give parties for. +There are so few gentlemen’s families in Deepdale.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span></p> + +<p>She meant this for a thrust, and it went +home.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, dear!’ cried Mrs Axworthy, tossing her +head, ‘<em>I</em> should ’ave said there was a many. I’m +sure I know above twenty ladies myself, and +then there are all their good gentlemen and +little families. Why, Mrs Gribble here makes +up four by ’erself alone.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ returned Paula, wilfully +misconstruing her meaning, ‘you are talking +of a school treat. No, I don’t think it +would quite do for me to give one yet awhile; +besides, I very much dislike children.’</p> + +<p>‘Mrs Gribble,’ exclaimed Mrs Axworthy, red +with indignation, ‘I think it is time for us to +be going, ma’am,’ and they rose from their chairs +simultaneously, and advanced to Paula with the +idea of shaking hands, not because they felt +cordially disposed towards her, but because they +knew of no other way to get out of the room. +But Paula, anticipating their design, rose also, +and moved towards the bell. She would <em>not</em> +shake hands with these women, she said to herself +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> +indignantly. So as they were still standing +before her, ignorant how to take the initiative, +her servant answered her summons, and saying +very quietly, ‘Show Mrs Gribble and Mrs Axworthy +out, Susan,’ she bowed to them as she +had done on entering, and turned away. The +churchwardens’ ‘ladies,’ red and flustered, understood +but too well that they were dismissed, +and followed the servant from the room. +They did not dare trust themselves to speak +till they were half-way down the drive, and +then their indignation burst forth in words.</p> + +<p>‘Did you <em>ever</em>!’ exclaimed Mrs Axworthy. +‘<em>I</em> never see sich airs in all my life. Coming +down in ’er ’at, and putting on ’er gloves, and +never so much as shaking us by the ’and. The +coolness and the himperence of it all! Her +marriage must ’ave turned ’er ’ead.’</p> + +<p>‘It’s them Measureses and Bristowes as ’ave +done it,’ said her friend. ‘Took ’er out of ’er +station, till she don’t know what she would be +after. Did you see ’er bowing and smirking at +us? I could ’ave tore her gloves and ’er ’at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> +off and trampled on them. Six-button gloves, +indeed, and that pale they will be siled in an +afternoon. And what <em>is</em> she, I should like to +know! A trumperious school teacher. I could +cry with vexation to think as we ’ad ever +demeaned ourselves to call on ’er.’</p> + +<p>‘Did you ’ear ’er say, Mrs Gribble, ma’am, as +there were so few “gentlemen’s families” in +Deepdale? Don’t she call Mr Gribble a gentleman, +and Mr Haxworthy? Why, what would +she ’ave? I bet they’re better gentlemen than +the low feller as took tea with ’er in the school’ouse. +But that’s all forgotten, of course. Mrs +’Al Rushton’s going to queen it over us all, +never mind what Miss Stafford chose to do. +But, mark my words, she won’t be able to give +none of ’er parties unless the ladies of Deepdale +are invited. She won’t ’ave enough to +make a party unless she ’as us. She can’t +give a garden “feet” for only Lady Bristowe +and Mrs Measures, though she <em>did</em> try to treat +us as if we was the dirt under her feet.’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll never forgive Gribble for ’aving pulled +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> +me into sich a scrape,’ said the other lady. +‘<em>I</em> says to ’im this morning, Mr Gribble, I says, +you can’t make a silk pus out of a sow’s hear, +and if you marry that young woman fifty times +hover, she won’t never be more respectable than +she was in the school’ouse. But gentlemen is +that obstinate. He says that where the vicar +goes we did ought to go. And so far he’s +right, but I won’t stand being trod upon by +an ’ussy like that, and so I shall tell ’im this +very night.’</p> + +<p>And so nursing their righteous wrath, and spitting +out venom upon the offender, they returned +home with a worse grievance against the ex-school +teacher than they had ever had before.</p> + +<p>Paula laughed when she related the interview +to her husband, but Hal was indignant that the +women should have presumed to call upon her.</p> + +<p>‘How <em>dared</em> they?’ he questioned angrily. +‘Do they imagine for a moment that, because +you once occupied a situation that placed you +on a seeming equality, I am going to allow you +to mix on friendly terms with all the scum of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> +Deepdale? Why, the laundress and the butcher’s +wife will be leaving their cards on you next, +and expecting to be admitted to the drawing-room.’</p> + +<p>‘I shouldn’t have minded it if they had come +in a friendly spirit,’ said Paula, ‘but it was evident +their visit was dictated only by curiosity, +or a desire to show me that <em>they</em> did not consider +that my marriage made any difference in +my position. No, I couldn’t stand it at all. I +hope I was not <em>too</em> rude, but I felt it was incumbent +on me to put them in their place at +once, and I hope they will never come near +me again.’</p> + +<p>‘I forbid your going down to see them if +they do,’ said Hal. ‘I won’t have the petals of +my White Rose sullied by contact with them.’</p> + +<p>The following evening at tea Paula said +archly,—</p> + +<p>‘I’ve had some more visitors, Hal. Guess +who they were.’</p> + +<p>‘How can I tell? Old Potter’s wife, perhaps, +or Mrs Snoad from Haltham.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span></p> + +<p>‘Oh, dear, no. Somebody much nearer home. +Your stepmother and her son.’</p> + +<p>Hal made a grimace of unmitigated aversion.</p> + +<p>‘Well, the less you see of them the better +I shall be pleased.’</p> + +<p>‘But, Hal dear, I think you’re a little hard +on Mrs Rushton. She seemed full of good +wishes for our happiness, and see what she +brought me as a wedding gift.’</p> + +<p>And Paula uncovered from its paper wrappings +something which looked like a small pillow, +covered with spotted muslin and pink ribbon +bows.</p> + +<p>‘What on earth is it?’</p> + +<p>‘A pincushion, dear. Rather a large one, +I confess, but it will do for the spare room. +But it was kind of the old woman to think of +us, wasn’t it?’</p> + +<p>‘Humph! I would rather she didn’t. Her +thoughts are like wormwood, and apt to turn +everything to gall. Where did she get this +atrocious offering?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> + +<p>‘Oh, Hal, she made it all herself, and she +apologised for its being such a humble gift, +but she isn’t rich, you know. I couldn’t help, +somehow, being rather sorry for her when she +mentioned her regret at leaving the Hall. You +see, I couldn’t appreciate the joy of being here +myself as much as I do if I couldn’t realise +what the loss of it would be. I assure you the +tears were in her eyes when she looked at the +improvements in the garden. And she was <em>so</em> +shabby. I don’t believe she can have had a +new cloak for years.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, my child, that’s not my fault, nor her +own either, for she must have feathered her +nest considerably whilst she was with me, and +might easily afford a new turn-out by this +time. Oh, Paula, you don’t know how I hate +that woman. Sometimes I think she worried +my poor father into the grave before his +time.’</p> + +<p>‘Hal, darling, that <em>must</em> be fancy. I confess +her appearance doesn’t impress me, and +Mr Snaley is still worse than his mother, but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> +it must certainly be a great change from the +Hall to Wavertree Cottage. Mrs Rushton complained +a good deal of rheumatism. She is +afraid the little pond at the back of the cottage +makes it damp.’</p> + +<p>‘And do you want me to reinstate them +both here in consequence, sweetheart? Because, +I won’t.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no, dear, of course not; only, they must +miss the luxuries they enjoyed here. Mrs +Rushton told me her kitchen garden had been +so much neglected nothing would grow in it, +and she can’t eat Farmer Rich’s butter after +that she used to superintend the churning of it +at the Hall.’</p> + +<p>‘That was only to try and work on your +sympathy. I have already told the old woman +that she can have all she requires from our +dairy.’</p> + +<p>‘That was very good of you, Hal. I’m afraid +we vexed her sadly that evening about the +peaches. She apologised so much she made +me feel quite ashamed, and I said we never +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> +should have taken the basket from her had +we not thought that she had gathered them to +save Potter the trouble.’</p> + +<p>‘<em>That</em> was a cracker, my darling; however, +let it pass. And what had the noble Ted to +say for himself?’</p> + +<p>‘He brought me that bouquet of chrysanthemums +in the Chinese bowl. His mother +told me they came from Haltham, as he could +find nothing good enough for me in Deepdale.’</p> + +<p>At this Hal laughed long and lustily.</p> + +<p>‘Ted Snaley turned into a ladies’ man!’ he +exclaimed. ‘What next, I wonder! If you can +achieve such transformations as these, Paula, I +shall not be surprised to hear of the widow +coming out as a professional beauty.’</p> + +<p>And amidst the mirth engendered by this +fancy the theme of Mrs Rushton’s visit gave +place to some other subject.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV"> + CHAPTER IV.<br> + <span>LADY BRISTOWE.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap">The</span> Bristowe acquaintance promised after a +while to become a nuisance. Hal hated dinner-parties, +and all kinds of festivities away from +his own home, but her ladyship was so pressing +they hardly knew how to refuse her.</p> + +<p>‘We <em>must</em> go this once, Hal,’ pleaded Paula. +‘I don’t look forward to it any more than you +do, but the old lady has certainly been very +kind to us, and we must not be ungrateful.’</p> + +<p>‘Very well,’ acquiesced the young man, in a +tone of dissatisfaction, ‘for the first time, then, +and the last. I’m not going to drag myself +away from my dogs and horses to make small-talk +at a dinner table. I gave all that sort of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> +thing up long ago. I believe I have a suit of +dress clothes somewhere, but I very much doubt +if I can get into them.’</p> + +<p>‘I’ve treated you too well, you lazy boy, and +you’ve grown too stout,’ said Paula, laughing.</p> + +<p>‘Seriously though, my darling, don’t you +remember our compact, that neither of us was +to interfere with the amusements of the other? +Go and dine with all the old ladies in the +neighbourhood if it pleases you, but leave me +in the stables. I never <em>was</em> a society man, you +know. I believe that if I had seen you first +in a drawing-room I never should have become +intimate enough with you to propose.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I’ll never ask you again, dear—I promise +you that—but just this once you will come to +please me. Whoever heard of a bride going out +to dine at the house of a new acquaintance by +herself? It would be too funny.’</p> + +<p>‘It would be the only funny thing about it +then. I anticipate a frightfully dull evening.’</p> + +<p>‘So do I; but it would be a thousand times +worse without you. After this, if she ever asks +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> +us again, I shall tell her plainly that we intend +to give up all formal visiting whatever.’</p> + +<p>So Hal gave in, and on a certain lovely +afternoon in September he drove his wife over +to Tor Abbey. He wore a dust-coat over his +evening suit, and her white dress was well +covered up from view, and they alighted at +the Abbey looking very fresh and handsome, +and suitably attired, and were received by +Lady Bristowe with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>They found her sitting in the grand old +library, through the stained glass windows of +which the setting sun cast violet and ruby +shades on the bindings of the books and the +carved oak cases, and gave the room the +appearance of an oriel chapel. Sarah Brennan +was seated in one of the window recesses, +occupied with needlework, but Lady Bristowe +did not take the trouble to introduce her to +either of her guests.</p> + +<p>‘Now, I call this really kind of you,’ she +said, as she embraced Paula and shook hands +with Hal, ‘to take the trouble to drive all this +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> +way to dine with a stupid old woman. You +know I said you would meet no one but +myself. I have persuaded Mr Vernon, our +curate, to make a fourth at table, just to keep +Mr Rushton company, but he is such a quiet +creature he counts for nothing. And now you +will go upstairs, dear, and remove your things. +Brennan, show Mrs Rushton the way up to +the yellow room, and assist her to dismantle. +Mr Rushton, my man will take your overcoat. +It has been a lovely day, hasn’t it—more like +July than September? And we shall have +October here in a day or two. Dear, dear, +how the time flies. Pray sit down and make +yourself comfortable.’</p> + +<p>And Lady Bristowe reseated herself in her +capacious arm-chair, and continued to chatter, +with the view of amusing her guest until the +party should be reinforced. Meanwhile, Sarah +Brennan had led Paula up a wide staircase, +lined with family portraits and oil paintings, +to a large bedroom, hung with old-fashioned +yellow satin, where she deposited her hat and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> +cloak, and ruffled up the pretty curls upon her +forehead by aid of the Venetian mirror on the +dressing-table. As she did so she became +conscious of a very evil pair of eyes watching +her movements, in the person of Miss Brennan. +The companion was, indeed, feeling anything +but well-inclined towards the new-comer. She +knew the position she had held in Deepdale, +and resented the idea of a village schoolmistress +being treated by Lady Bristowe as an equal, +whilst <em>she</em> was ignored, as if she had been the +lowest servant in the establishment. <em>Her</em> father +had been a thriving tradesman in the Italian +warehouse line, and she would like to know +what more Mrs Rushton’s father had been. +Paula, seeing the look with which she regarded +her, and attributing it to illness, asked her +kindly if she felt well.</p> + +<p>‘Perfectly so, thank you,’ returned Miss +Brennan, with thin pursed-up lips, ‘and if you’re +ready, perhaps we had better go downstairs +again.’</p> + +<p>She would not have dared address Paula in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> +so familiar a manner before her employer, but +she felt aggressively bold now that they were +alone. Paula recognised the feeling, and with +a slight flush on her face, retraced her steps to +the library.</p> + +<p>‘Ah, how pretty you look,’ cried Lady Bristowe +effusively, as she entered it. ‘Mr Rushton, you +have the handsomest wife for miles round Deepdale.’</p> + +<p>‘I know that,’ replied Hal, laughing.</p> + +<p>‘And I am very jealous of you, sir, and want +to share your spoils with you. I wish I had +found her out first. Then I should have carried +her off, and you would have been out of the +running altogether. Come and sit down by me, +my love. Why, how old are you? You don’t +look twenty in that white frock.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I am much more than that, Lady Bristowe. +I was twenty-five on my last birthday.’</p> + +<p>‘And not married till then? What were the +men about not to run off with you long ago? +And where did you live before you came to +Deepdale?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> + +<p>‘Chiefly with my mother,’ replied Paula, +colouring.</p> + +<p>‘Ah, your mother. She is living still, is she +not? How sorry she must have been to part +with you. By-the-way, I cannot find your dear +father’s name in the Royal Navy list. Lieutenant +George Stafford, was he not? And I +think you said he died at sea. Poor dear, how +sad. But how is it his name is not down in the +<cite>Navy List</cite>?’</p> + +<p>Paula coloured rosily. The question took her +by surprise. She had no wish to disclose more +of her private affairs than was absolutely +necessary, but Lady Bristowe’s pertinacity left +her no alternative but to tell the truth. And +Sarah Brennan, from her sheltered window seat, +had seen the blush, and noted it.</p> + +<p>‘I called myself “Stafford” whilst I was at +the schoolhouse, Lady Bristowe, but it is not +my real name. I was so poor that I was +obliged to work for my living, but I saw no +necessity to drag my father’s name in the dirt. +He was Lieutenant George Sutton, not Stafford.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span></p> + +<p>‘Oh, Sutton, Sutton, of course that makes all +the difference,’ exclaimed her ladyship. ‘Brennan, +bring me the <cite>Navy List</cite>. Ah, here it is, of course, +in the deceased officers’ list. Lieutenant George +Sutton, R.N., of H.M.S. <cite>Thunderer</cite>. Ah, there is +no more noble service on the face of the earth +than the Royal Navy, and I am glad you +thought to uphold its name. I admire you +for having worked to help your dear mother, +though, and “All’s well that ends well,” eh, Mr +Rushton? But here is Mr Vernon, and now we +shall have some dinner.’</p> + +<p>‘A thousand apologies for being behind my +time, Lady Bristowe,’ said the curate briskly, +‘but these parish duties are terribly exacting.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, now you <em>are</em> come, let me introduce +you to Mr and Mrs Rushton,’ chuckled his +hostess, ‘and give Mrs Rushton your arm, and +take her into dinner, and we will follow suit.’</p> + +<p>The men-servants who announced the meal +threw open the door of the dining-room and +ushered them into a repast more fit for a party +of four-and-twenty than of four. The good-natured +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> +Lady Bristowe seated herself, panting, +at the head of her table, with Hal and Paula +on either side of her and the curate opposite, +and applied herself steadily to pressing the +different dishes on their acceptance. After a +while, however, and when all her guests were +busily engaged, each with a powdered flunkey +behind his chair, she reverted to the subject +of Paula’s mother.</p> + +<p>‘And so your poor dear mother is left all +alone? That must be very sad for her. Cannot +you persuade her to follow you to Deepdale, +Mrs Rushton?’</p> + +<p>Paula shook her head.</p> + +<p>‘My husband was good enough to ask her +to reside altogether with us,’ she said, ‘but +she would not come. She loves her own home +too well, and she has many friends round her.’</p> + +<p>‘And where may her home be, my dear?’</p> + +<p>Paula hesitated. She felt as if so much that +she would rather have left unsaid was being +dragged out of her against her will, yet how +could she refuse to answer so simple and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> +natural a question. The idea flashed through +her mind to give a false address, but she had +not the time to mature it, and so in her confusion +she blurted out the truth.</p> + +<p>‘At Grassdene,’ she said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>‘Grassdene!’ echoed Lady Bristowe, ‘surely +that is not far from Lynmouth? My sister, +Mrs Archibald Craig (the wife of Captain +Craig, commanding the <cite>Lightning</cite> gunboat—all +in the Royal Navy, you see, my dear), +lives at Lynmouth, and I go down to see her +almost every year. I shall make a point, next +time I am there, of going over to Grassdene +and making the acquaintance of your dear +mother. Mrs Craig will like to know her, too, +I am sure. We have such a fellow-feeling for +anyone who is connected with the dear old +service.’</p> + +<p>Paula glanced hurriedly at her husband, as +if to seek for counsel. But he was looking +fixedly at his plate, with something of a frown +upon his brow. So she took it upon herself to +answer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span></p> + +<p>‘You are very kind, Lady Bristowe, but my +mother is somewhat of an invalid, and never +receives any visitors. I hope you will not +be offended with me for saying so, but you +must not take any trouble on her account. +She lives a very secluded life, and goes nowhere.’</p> + +<p>‘An invalid!’ cried her ladyship. ‘Oh, that +is very sad. But my sister, Mrs Craig, might be +of use to her. She has a magnificent place in +Lynmouth, with any amount of hot-houses, and +a few grapes, or a pine-apple, or any delicacies +of that sort, are always acceptable in sickness. +I shall write to-morrow to Mrs Craig and tell +her to lose no time in showing what attention +she can to Mrs Sutton.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, pray—<em>pray</em> don’t,’ exclaimed Paula involuntarily, +but with so much fervour in her +tone that the attention of all at the table was +directed to her. As soon as ever the words +had escaped her lips, she would have recalled +them, but it was too late. She blushed painfully +as she felt the surprise she had evoked by +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> +her <i lang="fr">brusquerie</i>, and the more so when Hal +remarked,—</p> + +<p>‘That is not a very polite return for Lady +Bristowe’s kindness, Paula.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I hope you don’t think me ungrateful,’ +she said, turning to her hostess with moistened +eyes. ‘I cannot thank you enough for the offer, +but my mother is so sensitive—so nervous—she +shrinks so terribly from seeing or speaking with +strangers, that I thought—I was afraid—’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, never mind, my dear,’ interposed Lady +Bristowe, with a shade less warmth in her demeanour; +‘of course Mrs Craig would have +known how to show her desire to be of use +without intruding on Mrs Sutton’s privacy, but +if you think it would be a distress instead of +a pleasure to her, we will say no more about +it.’ Then, turning from her altogether, she +addressed the curate instead: ‘Do you know +when the rector is coming home again, Mr +Vernon? He seems to me to be taking a very +long holiday.’</p> + +<p>Mr Vernon replied that they confidently expected +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> +the rector to take the pulpit the Sunday +after next, and then the conversation drifted +on parochial matters, and Paula sat by and +listened listlessly, feeling very much as if she +were all of a sudden in disgrace. But the idea +of Lady Bristowe and her sister bearing down +upon Grassdene in one of their grand carriages, +and perhaps without any warning, to find Mrs +Sutton in <i lang="fr">déshabille</i>, and to see poor little Paul +or encounter some neighbour who had known +her during her first married life, had been too +much for her susceptibility. She was very silent +during the remainder of the meal, but as +the ladies rose from table her hostess passed +her stout arm through Paula’s slender one with +a familiarity that told her the little annoyance +was forgotten.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know when I have taken such a fancy +to anyone as I have to you, my dear,’ she said, +on their way to the drawing-room. ‘I quite +feel as if I had found a daughter. I only wish +you <em>were</em> my daughter. I wish my dear son +Wallace may find such another wife for himself; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> +but he is a lawless fellow, and says he +will never marry. I have never shown you +my Wallace’s portrait,’ she continued, halting +before a full-length oil painting of a young +naval officer. ‘Here is the dear boy, you see, +taken in his first epaulettes. Isn’t it a fine +face? A little heavy-browed, perhaps, like +his dear father the Admiral, but good all +round, and the sweetest temper in the +world.’</p> + +<p>‘Like his mother,’ said Paula, smiling.</p> + +<p>‘Ah, my dear, what merit is there in having a +good temper when no one presumes to ruffle +it? Here have I been from girlhood, surrounded +with everything I could possibly desire, +and, except for losing the Admiral, without a +trouble.’</p> + +<p>‘And the separation from your only son,’ +suggested Paula.</p> + +<p>‘But that is inevitable. He is in the Royal +Navy, and it would have broken my heart if +he had refused to enter it. So, you see, I have +so little to complain of that the difficulty +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> +would be to find something to lose my temper +about.’</p> + +<p>‘You have such an amiable disposition, Lady +Bristowe. Some people will fall out with +themselves sooner than with no one at all.’</p> + +<p>‘What a terrible misfortune it must be, though. +That is like poor dear Brennan. I have had +that young woman in my service five years, +and I don’t know when I have seen her smile. +I allow her a great many more privileges than +I ever agreed to do, yet she is never happy. +Ah! here she comes, with her long face. Well +Brennan, what is it?’</p> + +<p>‘If you please, your ladyship, shall you require +my services for an hour or so? If not, +I thought I would take a stroll before bedtime.’</p> + +<p>‘Dear me, no. Haven’t I got Mrs Rushton? +Go and take a stroll, by all manner of means. +Make yourself happy, Brennan, that is all I +ask. Will you take my pets with you?’</p> + +<p>‘If your ladyship wishes it.’</p> + +<p>‘No; on second thoughts, they might incommode +you, and I should like to show the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> +darlings to Mrs Rushton. Tell James to bring +them all round before the drawing-room windows. +I always keep up my breed of Blenheim spaniels, +my dear. The Admiral used to say they were +the only dogs a lady should possess. I have +three little pets in the house, but several more +in the stables. Are you fond of animals?’</p> + +<p>‘Very much so, Lady Bristowe. We have +some beautiful setters and pointers at home, +but no dog small enough to live indoors.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I shall have to give you one of my +Blenheim puppies. I believe my coachman has +some just ready to leave the mother. It is not +<em>everyone</em> I would give one of my puppies to, +my dear. They are thoroughbred dogs, you +know, and my coachman doesn’t like the breed +going out of the Abbey. But <em>you</em> are an exception, +and I should like to think you had one in +your possession.’</p> + +<p>‘You are too good to me,’ faltered Paula, +feeling a presentiment all the while that her +ladyship’s goodness would have some unpleasant +termination.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p> + +<p>The little dogs were duly admired, and the +pup, greatly against the coachman’s inclination, +selected from the litter, and Paula had just +taken it in her arms, and was fondling and +caressing it, when the gentlemen came in from +the dining-room and learned how it had come +into her possession.</p> + +<p>‘You are indeed highly favoured, Mrs Rushton,’ +observed Mr Vernon. ‘I don’t know when Lady +Bristowe has given one of her little dogs away +before. I remember our rector’s wife giving her +some very broad hints on the subject once, but +she was deaf as well as dumb.’</p> + +<p>‘If I gave to one, I must give to all, but <em>this</em> +is a very different case,’ replied Lady Bristowe. +‘I look upon Mrs Rushton as my adopted +daughter.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, indeed, I was not aware of it. You have +known this young lady, doubtless, for a long +time?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, not so long, counted by weeks and +months perhaps, but we feel as if we had +known each other all our lives, don’t we, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> +my dear?’ said her ladyship, patting Paula’s +cheek.</p> + +<p>Paula’s large grey eyes looked up gratefully, +but she said nothing. She could not echo her +hostess’s sentiment, but she thought it very good +of her to express it. Presently Lady Bristowe +drew Hal away to admire the prospect from a +bay window, and Mr Vernon was left, comparatively +speaking, alone with Paula.</p> + +<p>‘Am I right,’ he inquired, ‘in thinking that, +not long ago, you held the position of school +teacher in Deepdale?’</p> + +<p>‘Quite right,’ she replied; ‘I was there for over +two years.’</p> + +<p>But she wondered as she said it if the fact +of her former position would ever be forgotten, +or cease to be spoken of.</p> + +<p>‘I thought I could not be mistaken,’ rejoined +her companion. ‘I was over there at the local +examinations last year, and thought how much +credit your pupils did you. And you gave up +your appointment to get married?’</p> + +<p>Paula bowed her head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span></p> + +<p>‘I must congratulate you. I have not had +the pleasure of meeting Mr Rushton before this +evening, but I have often heard of him. I +believe he is the son of Farmer Rushton of +Highbridge. Was there not a widow?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes; but she is not Hal’s mother, and she +does not live with us,’ said Paula.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I am very pleased to have been introduced +to you. The Measures are great friends +of mine, but I little thought the Mrs Rushton +I heard of as staying at Deepdale vicarage was +the same as Miss Stafford. I hope this will not +prove to be our last meeting.’</p> + +<p>He was captivated with the sweet face and +bearing of Hal Rushton’s young wife, but he +was at the same time slightly puzzled. He +did not believe it possible there could be anything +to be said against the guest of Mrs +Measures and Lady Bristowe, and yet surely +some unpleasant reports had reached him respecting +the departure of the school teacher +from Deepdale. Mr Vernon kept turning the +two things over in his head without arriving +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> +at any satisfactory conclusion, and left Tor +Abbey without having unravelled the mystery. +Certainly he could believe no harm of pretty +Mrs Rushton. It must be concluded, therefore, +that the rumours which had reached him were +untrue. With the curate’s departure the little +party broke up. Hal wrapped up his wife carefully +in her large cloak, and placed her in her +pony chaise, and after a great many affectionate +farewells from Lady Bristowe, and entreaties +that they would soon visit her again, they +took their way home. For some minutes Hal +drove in silence, flicking the pony in a way that +proved he was not altogether in a good temper, +and then he said interrogatively,—</p> + +<p>‘Well, Paula?’</p> + +<p>‘What is it, dear? I am afraid you proved +a true prophet, and have not enjoyed your +evening. Yet the poor old lady did all she +possibly could to make it pleasant to us.’</p> + +<p>‘I wasn’t thinking of that. My mind was +ruminating on several things that occurred +during dinner, and which make me say that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> +the less we encourage Lady Bristowe’s familiarity +the better. She is a kind woman, but a +very pushing one, and if she ever suspects +there is a secret concerning you she will not +rest until she has discovered what it is. I wish +you hadn’t accepted that dog from her. It will +be another obligation to make breaking the +intimacy more difficult.’</p> + +<p>‘I wish I had not,’ replied his wife, looking +down on the little animal in her lap, ‘but I +hardly knew how to refuse it. She presses her +gifts on one so warmly. It seems impossible +to reject them without giving offence.’</p> + +<p>‘I always doubt these sudden affections,’ continued +Hal. ‘It is ridiculous to hear her talk +of you in such an extravagant manner, whom +she has only known for a month. Such natures +are apt to cool just as suddenly as they have +warmed, and I won’t have you taken up and +cast off as if you were an old shoe. We must +return Lady Bristowe’s hospitality in our small +way; but don’t accept any more invitations to Tor +Abbey, Paula. Lay all the blame on me. Say +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> +that I won’t go out into society, and that you +cannot go without me. We shall be happier by +ourselves, love, believe me.’</p> + +<p>‘I know we shall,’ replied Paula fervently, +‘and for my own part I wish we had never +been introduced to Lady Bristowe at all. She +has already been the cause of your speaking +impatiently to me, and I would “cut” everybody +in the world sooner than they should +come in the slightest degree between us.’</p> + +<p>‘Now, darling, you are rushing into the other +extreme. No one shall ever come between us, +neither is there the slightest necessity for “cutting” +Lady Bristowe, who has really done us +a great honour. But such honours are rather +above us, Paula. We cannot return them in +like measure, and neither you nor I want to be +the <i lang="fr">protégés</i> of a grand lady. I am only a +farmer’s son, and have never pretended to be +anything more—a country gentleman, perhaps, +you may call me, but not fit to provide small-talk +for late dinner-parties. I hate them, Paula, +they are so much time wasted to me; and if +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> +you love me as you say you do, you will give +them up for my sake, and let me live my quiet, +peaceful life at home.’</p> + +<p>‘<em>If I love you</em>,’ said Paula reproachfully. ‘Oh, +Hal, can you have any doubt of it? From this +moment I will never accept a formal invitation +again. Only tell me what you wish, dearest, +and it shall be done.’</p> + +<p>‘My love, don’t think I want you to sacrifice +your own inclinations for me. Go where you +will, but leave me at home. I am so much +happier there. But we must give some sort of +an entertainment in return for the civility of +our neighbours, and that as soon as you can +manage it.’</p> + +<p>‘Let it be a garden-party then, Hal, for the +weather is quite fine enough for it, and it will +not worry you so much. We can have tennis +and croquet and a dance upon the lawn, and +an <i lang="it">al fresco</i> meal laid out on tables on the +terrace. Do you think we know enough people +to make it pleasant?’</p> + +<p>‘I believe so. There will be the Measures, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> +of course, and he has a brother at Rodney +Wold with half-a-dozen lads and lasses. Then +there is Lady Bristowe and the Ashfolds, and +Willards and Marchmonts, and you must ask +Miss Foker and her brother and the Borrowdales—’</p> + +<p>‘And the Gribbles and Axworthys,’ said Paula +slyly.</p> + +<p>‘By Jove, no! They never enter my house +on <em>my</em> invitation. But I know several families +out Pennett way, old friends of my mother’s +people, who I feel sure would be delighted to +make my wife’s acquaintance. Oh, we shall +make up a nice party, never fear; and there is +a quartette in Haltham (Spring, the stationer, is +one of them) who go out to play for dances, +and sing glees between whiles, and will enliven +the festivities considerably.’</p> + +<p>‘Hal,’ said Paula presently, ‘we shall have to +ask your stepmother and Edward Snaley.’</p> + +<p>Her husband turned his head and regarded +her steadfastly in the face.</p> + +<p>‘Are you serious?’ he asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p> + +<p>‘I am, indeed. I am afraid people will think +it very strange if they are left out.’</p> + +<p>‘Let them think what they choose. It won’t +hurt us.’</p> + +<p>‘But, Hal dear, won’t it look just a little +“caddish” not to ask them? As if we were +ashamed to be seen with them?’</p> + +<p>‘But that’s just it. I <em>am</em> ashamed of them—heartily +and thoroughly ashamed—not because +they are humble, but because they are +so infernally low-minded and vulgar. No, +Paula, it is not to be thought of for a minute. +Be kind to Mrs Rushton and her son, if you +will—I would not check your generous nature +for the world—but you cannot ask them to a +mixed party. It would be an insult to every one +of your lady visitors.’</p> + +<p>‘I am sorry,’ sighed Paula. ‘It is very +awkward. I wish they did not live in Deepdale.’</p> + +<p>‘So do I. But it is one of the scrapes I +have got you into, and you must make the +best of it. If giving a party necessitates the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> +presence of the <i lang="fr">ci-devant</i> Mrs Snaley and her +beauteous offspring, the party must be given +up.’</p> + +<p>‘Very well, dear, we will think no more +about it. What day shall we fix upon?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, make it an early one. Deepdalers are +not used to long invitations. Say a week +hence, the fifth of October. That will give +you plenty of time to make your preparations.’</p> + +<p>‘I will have such a <em>lovely</em> spread,’ exclaimed +Paula, with the enthusiasm of a young housekeeper, +‘a <i lang="fr">dejeûner à la fourchette</i>. That sounds +well for Deepdale, doesn’t it, Hal?’</p> + +<p>‘Capital! But what does it mean?’</p> + +<p>‘Luncheon and tea combined, eaten at four +o’clock,’ replied his wife, laughing. ‘It shall +be a nice one, I assure you. I begin to feel +quite excited over it, and will make out the +list of guests and write the invitations the first +thing to-morrow morning.’</p> + +<p>The young people did not speak of their +project except to one another, and yet somehow +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> +the news got bruited abroad, and by the +afternoon of the next day everybody in Deepdale +knew that Mrs Hal Rushton was about +to give a garden-party (a ‘feet,’ as Mrs Axworthy +termed it) at Highbridge Hall, and +that the Haltham quartette had been hired for +the occasion. All the ‘ladies’ were on the +<i lang="fr">qui vive</i> in a moment, wondering <em>who</em> would +be invited, and speculating on what they themselves +ought to wear on the auspicious occasion.</p> + +<p>‘For, in course,’ as Mrs Axworthy remarked +to Mrs Gribble, ‘we shall hall be hasked, as is +only our doo. I’m sure she howes it to us, +Mrs Gribble, ma’am, for a shabbier wedding +visit I never see, with never a bit of cake +nor a drop of wine to drink their ’ealths. But +no doubt they was reserving their hospitality +for this “feet,” and will come out handsome +now. What are you thinking of wearing +ma’am?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I hardly know,’ returned Mrs Gribble. +‘Of course, I must respeck myself, and yet I +don’t want to seem to do too much honner to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> +the young person Mr ’Al has married. I’ve a +sweet green <i lang="fr">muslin de laine</i> that I ’ad for +my Carrie’s christening, and I think if I was +to trim it with a little white lace, and put a +gold butterfly or so in my Sunday bonnet, it +would look very hairy and summer like.’</p> + +<p>‘Charming,’ said her friend; ‘and I’m glad +to ’ear you’ll wear green, as then we won’t +clash, for I’ve settled on my pink silk skirt, +with a black velvet bodice, and a ’at with my +white ostrich plumes in it. If I can carry +it out as I ’ave it in my mind’s heye, I don’t +think there will be another costume like it +in the whole “feet.” The pleasantest part of +these little gatherings is planning your dress +beforehand, and we mustn’t forget as our +good gentlemen ’old a ’igh position in Deepdale.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, naterally everyone will be hasking who +<em>we</em> are. I think I shall let my Lottie and +Carrie go in book-muslin and blue ribbins. +There’s nothing sweeter, and the frocks they ’ad +for the last examinations are as good as noo. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> +I wish Mr Stubbins ’adn’t cut their ’air so short +yesterday. It looks genteeler tied up with +ribbins. But there, one can’t ’ave heverythink.’</p> + +<p>‘I’m a-longing to see the hinvites,’ said Mrs +Axworthy. ‘I suppose they will be sent round +to-morrer. Jane Clark told Haxworthy that she +was a-writing of them hall to-day.’</p> + +<p>The morrow arrived, however, without bringing +the expected invitations, but the ladies did +not lose hope. They could not conceive it +possible that any party could be given at +Highbridge Hall without including their names. +They still evinced the greatest interest in listening +to the account of all that was to be done +on the occasion; of how a large marquee was +to be pitched on the lawn for the refreshments, +and Mr Rushton had ordered six dozen of +champagne from Haltham, and a professed cook +was coming over to superintend the making of +jellies and savoury pies.</p> + +<p>‘I should call it redickerlous for such as <em>’er</em>,’ +confided Mrs Axworthy to her crony Gribble, +‘unless it was to show honner where honner’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> +doo. The fact is, ma’am, Mrs ’Al Rushton is +beginning to see it will be best to keep friends +with them as can open their mouths or shut +’em as they feel inclined. She’s a sharp ’un, +take my word for it.’</p> + +<p>But when the days went on without bringing +the expected invitations, and little Miss Foker +came over and triumphantly displayed the letter +she had received, asking herself and her brother +to the Hall for the fifth of October, the +churchwardens and their ladies began to suspect +there must be something wrong.</p> + +<p>‘She couldn’t never mean to leave us <em>hout</em>!’ +exclaimed Mrs Axworthy, with her face the +colour of a beet.</p> + +<p>‘Impossible! Think of the himperence of it,’ +replied Mrs Gribble; ‘why, it’s as good as +putting her character in our ’ands.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, it’s a beauty she’ll get from me when +I’ve a chance to give it ’er,’ cried the other, +‘hinsulting us before the whole neighbourhood +in this manner. Deepdale ladies ain’t good +enough company for Mrs ’Al Rushton, I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> +suppose. She must ’ave barrow knights, +widders, and hearls and countesses for her +garden “feet.” Very good, she’ll see. She’s +made henemies of hus two, Mrs Gribble, who +might have been ’er friends, and it remains to +be seen which on us will be the wuss for it.’</p> + +<p>‘It’s <em>sickening</em>,’ retorted Mrs Gribble, as from +the window they watched the arrival of the +marquee and some dozens of garden chairs +from Haltham.</p> + +<p>When the day of the party arrived everything +was most propitious. The weather was beautiful—not +a cloud appeared in the blue sky—not a +guest disappointed them by sending a tardy +excuse for his non-appearance, for everybody was +but too glad to come. Mrs Measures brought +a goodly array of nephews and nieces, and +Lady Bristowe was accompanied by several +young people from her own parish. To crown +all, Mrs Willard, one of Hal’s oldest friends, in +addition to her own family, begged to be +allowed to introduce the Countess of Warden, +who was anxious to join the garden-party.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p> + +<p>Paula, who was looking the quintessence of +a white rose in her simple muslin dress and +white chip hat, was almost disposed to be +overwhelmed at first by receiving such distinguished +guests, but in dispensing her simple +hospitality to them she soon became at her +ease. Lady Warden, who was quite a young +woman, appeared to enjoy herself as much as +anybody there, and after playing at lawn tennis +all the afternoon, and disposing of an excellent +meal in the marquee, chose Hal Rushton to +lead off Sir Roger de Coverley with her on +the lawn, and finally left them full of regret +that the Earl had not had such a good time +with her. The Haltham quartette discoursed +sweet music all the day, and the strains from +their instruments were carried over the grounds +of Highbridge Hall into the village, making +the listeners green with envy, whilst the banquet +was declared to be the best thing of the kind +ever seen in Deepdale.</p> + +<p>‘Paula, my dear, you have surpassed yourself,’ +exclaimed Mrs Measures, as she surveyed the long +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> +tables, bright with sparkling glass and burnished +silver, and covered with raised pies and boned +game, salmon and chicken mayonnaise, jellies, +creams and trifles, whilst fruit and flowers filled +every available space. ‘I don’t believe they +have ever seen such a spread in Deepdale +before. You will wake to-morrow and find +yourself famous.’</p> + +<p>‘A poor fame, dear Mrs Measures, to have +its foundation on truffled turkeys and champagne.’</p> + +<p>‘Not so, Paula, on the art of being an +admirable hostess, and knowing how to make +your friends happy. Everybody is delighted +and votes your garden-party the most successful +they have ever attended. I am afraid there +must be some sore and envious hearts in Deepdale +this afternoon.’</p> + +<p>‘I hope not. I think we have asked everybody +to whom we owed anything. But they +are Hal’s friends, of course, and I only followed +the list he gave me.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, it has been very delightful, and I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> +have enjoyed myself immensely. How many +are there present?’</p> + +<p>‘I am not quite sure. So many of them +have brought friends. I should think about a +hundred.’</p> + +<p>‘I must not keep you from them longer, +Paula. They are beginning to dance again. I +believe they will never leave off. And it is +growing late—past seven, I declare. I must go +and find the vicar. He has to hold a class at +eight. Good-bye, my dear, and many congratulations +to you.’</p> + +<p>Paula echoed the farewell rather languidly. +She had been running about all the afternoon +and began to feel tired. Yet her face was flushed, +and her husband thought he had never seen her +look more lovely than she did as she stood by +his side and shook hands with her departing +guests. At last they were all gone. The dusk +was falling, the strains of music had ceased, the +quartette were finishing the remains of the truffled +turkeys and champagne.</p> + +<p>‘Come, my darling,’ said Hal lovingly, as he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> +wound his arm about his wife’s waist, ‘you have +done your duty bravely, and you are tired out. +Come in and take off all your finery, and rest +upon the sofa.’ And he drew her into the +house.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V"> + CHAPTER V.<br> + <span>A MYSTERIOUS LOSS.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap">Paula</span>, following her husband’s advice, removed +her pretty lace dress and flowery hat, and +putting on a dark wrap, lay down on the sofa in +the breakfast parlour whilst her servants made +her some tea. It was for the first time, then, +that Hal perceived a little pile of letters and +newspapers waiting for him.</p> + +<p>‘By Jove!’ he exclaimed, ‘I have been so +busy all day I have had no time to think of +my correspondence. However, I suppose they +are only circulars. I seldom get anything more +interesting.’</p> + +<p>He opened one or two county newspapers, and +tossed them to one side as he spoke.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span></p> + +<p>‘I suppose our garden-party will get into +the <cite>Haltham Chronicle</cite>, Paula. I saw Spring +making copious notes. You’ll see your whole +bill of fare in print next Saturday.’</p> + +<p>Paula smiled faintly, but did not answer. She +was lying back on the sofa cushions, with her +eyes closed, for now that the excitement and +the necessity for exertion were over she felt +how much her head ached. Her husband went +on with his letters. He sent a couple of advertisements +to join the newspapers, but the contents +of the third envelope he opened seemed +to arrest his attention. It was a very short +letter, but he read it several times over before +he ventured furtively to glance at his wife, who +was lying in the same position, with closed eyes. +After a minute or two, he walked gently up to +her side, and kissed her brow. Paula looked up, +and lifting her arms, wound them around his +neck.</p> + +<p>‘Paula, darling,’ he whispered, ‘I have had a +letter about your mother. I am afraid she is +not well.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span></p> + +<p>Paula sat up on the sofa, and opened her eyes +wide.</p> + +<p>‘Not <em>well</em>,’ she exclaimed incredulously, ‘mother +not well. Why, I heard from her only two days +ago, and she did not mention it. What is the +matter with her, Hal? Read me her letter.’</p> + +<p>‘The letter is not from her, dear. It is from +the doctor.’</p> + +<p>‘From Dr Gibbon, and he writes to <em>you</em>. How +strange, when he has known me so long. Well, +what does he say? Don’t keep me in suspense.’</p> + +<p>‘It is not from Dr Gibbon, dearest. Perhaps +he is away for his holiday. It is from some +stranger of the name of Courtfield, and all he +says is: “Dear sir,—Mrs Sutton is seriously ill, +and desires to see Mrs Rushton. Please bring +or send her to Grassdene as soon as possible.—Yours +faithfully, L. Courtfield.”’</p> + +<p>Paula pressed both her hands against her +brows.</p> + +<p>‘Courtfield, Courtfield,’ she murmured, ‘I do +not know the name. Why should he write?’ +And then, as though conviction had for the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> +first time burst upon her, she cried: ‘Oh, mother, +mother. She must be <em>very</em> ill, indeed, to let a +stranger write to tell us of it. And I have been +singing and dancing all the afternoon, whilst +she was perhaps <em>dying</em>. Oh, what a wicked, +wicked girl I am. I have not thought half +enough of my poor mother, and all she has done +and suffered for me. I have been wrapt up in +you, and your love for me, and the pride of my +new possessions. Oh, Hal, Hal, is God going +to send a judgment upon me?’</p> + +<p>‘For loving me, dearest, and opening your +poor parched heart to receive my love? I hope +not. He would not be the Father of us all if +He grudged His children the only real comfort +they have in this world. But Paula, darling, +listen to me. There is a train from Haltham +at eleven o’clock for the west. I will travel +down by it to Grassdene, and send you a wire +directly I arrive to let you know how your +mother is.’</p> + +<p>‘And leave me here alone, doing nothing!’ +she cried. ‘Oh, no; that would be worse than +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> +death. I will go with you, Hal. We will go +to my dear mother together.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Paula, you are so exhausted with +fatigue. A night journey may make you ill. +Take my advice, dear one, and go to bed. You +can join me by the earliest train to-morrow, if +you still desire it.’</p> + +<p>‘And meanwhile my mother may die without +seeing me again. Do you suppose this Courtfield +would have said “Come as soon as +possible” had there been no danger? Oh, no, +Hal; I must go with you. I should kill myself +with anxiety and suspense if you left me +here alone.’</p> + +<p>‘If that is your opinion, of course you must +come,’ replied her husband, ‘and I suppose it +will be best, as this letter alludes so particularly +to you. But we have no time to spare, +dearest. It is nearly nine now, and we have an +hour’s drive before us. Can you be ready so +soon?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes,’ she cried, springing from the sofa. +‘I require nothing but to change my dress, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> +put up the few things I may want for the +night. Louisa will do that for me. Oh, my +heart is so full of fear and misery. And when +I was looking forward so much to seeing her +again.’</p> + +<p>Hal had no answer to make to this outburst +of sorrow. He believed it best to let it have +its way. He knew enough of the suddenness +with which misfortune overtakes us to fear +what might be in store for Paula, and it was +as well she should be prepared. So he went +in search of Louisa, and told her that her +mistress had received unexpected bad news, and +had to leave the Hall that night, and she must +go and help her to pack up. And in the flurry +and distress of departure Paula had only time +to instruct her maid to go over to the vicarage +the first thing in the morning and tell Mrs +Measures she had been called away on account +of her mother’s illness, and would write to her +from Devonshire. She flung on a soft, warm +travelling dress, for the nights were beginning +to be chilly, and having filled a handbag with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> +her toilet necessaries, was standing ready at the +hall door for some time before her husband drove +up in his dog-cart.</p> + +<p>‘Jump in, dear,’ he said; ‘I ordered the cart +instead of the pony chaise because the mare +will take us quicker into Haltham. Where is +your travelling plaid, and have you no veil? +I am so afraid you will take cold in the night +air. Wait a moment and I will fetch them for +you.’</p> + +<p>He wrapped her up tenderly, as if she had +been an ailing child, and in the midst of her +trouble Paula could not help feeling that as +long as she had her husband’s love she could +never be entirely miserable. It was a very +silent and melancholy journey that followed, +for neither of them dared tell their thoughts +to the other. Paula sat throughout the night +holding Hal’s hand, and staring with sleepless +eyes into the darkness, as she wondered vaguely +what might be before her. In the early dawn +they arrived at Lynmouth, where they had spent +their happy honeymoon, and had to wait there +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> +for an hour and a half before getting a train +to take them to the nearest station to Grassdene. +Hal took Paula to an hotel, and insisted +upon her swallowing some coffee, but +suspense seemed to make the act almost impossible. +At last the moment arrived to start +again, and at about seven o’clock in the morning +a rickety old fly halted with them before +the little home of Mrs Sutton. Paula +turned the handle of the vehicle door and hurried +up the garden path. Her summons brought a +respectable looking woman to the door.</p> + +<p>‘How is my mother?’ she asked breathlessly.</p> + +<p>The woman scrutinised her keenly.</p> + +<p>‘Is it Mrs Rushton?’ she said.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, yes. Is Mrs Sutton better? Pray do +not keep me in suspense.’</p> + +<p>‘If you’re Mrs Rushton, ma’am,’ replied the +woman, ‘the doctor’s waiting to see you in the +parlour now. He came over early on purpose +to meet you on arrival. Here is the lady, +sir,’ she continued, throwing open the sitting-room +door, through which Paula, closely followed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> +by her husband, passed. A tall, spare young +man was standing to receive them as they +entered.</p> + +<p>‘Are you the Mr Courtfield who wrote to +us?’ cried Paula hastily, for it was no time for +ceremony, and she could think of no one but +her mother.</p> + +<p>‘I am, madam; and I presume I speak to +Mrs Rushton?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes. How is my mother, and where is +Dr Gibbon?’</p> + +<p>‘Dr Gibbon is away for a fortnight, and +I am acting for him. I was called in to +see Mrs Sutton the day before yesterday, +and I regret to tell you that she is very ill—very +ill, indeed.’</p> + +<p>Paula’s large eyes seemed to start out of +her white face.</p> + +<p>‘Is—there—no hope?’ she said, in a strange +husky voice.</p> + +<p>The stranger replied gravely,—</p> + +<p>‘There <em>is</em> no hope, madam, I regret to say. +It is better you should know it at once.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span></p> + +<p>‘Oh, let me go to her. Why am I staying +here?’ cried Paula wildly.</p> + +<p>She would have left the room, but Mr +Courtfield looked significantly at Hal Rushton, +who laid a restraining hand upon her.</p> + +<p>‘My dearest, stay with us. Don’t you understand?’</p> + +<p>‘No! What? What would you say?’</p> + +<p>‘That your dear mother is happier than you +or I, Paula. That she has gone beyond the +reach of sorrow.’</p> + +<p>She gazed at him in a vague, wondering +manner for a moment, and then, laying her head +down on the table, burst into a violent flood of +tears.</p> + +<p>‘It will do her good,’ said Hal mournfully. +‘She has suspected it from the beginning, though +she has not said a word. Poor girl! it has come +on her far too suddenly.’</p> + +<p>‘I might have told you the worst when +I wrote,’ replied Courtfield, ‘for there was +no illness. The poor lady was found dead +the day before yesterday. I was only called +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> +in to testify to the cause of death, which +must have taken place some hours before I saw +her.’</p> + +<p>‘But where, then, was Eliza?’ demanded Paula +in her surprise, lifting her wet face for the +doctor’s scrutiny.</p> + +<p>‘Who is Eliza?’ he asked in his turn.</p> + +<p>‘My mother’s servant, who attended on her +and the child. She used to come here every +day. Why did she not give notice of her +illness?’</p> + +<p>‘My dear lady, you puzzle me. There was +no servant in the house when I entered it. +Indeed, the person who summoned me—a Mrs +Jones—told me expressly that Mrs Sutton was +alone. She entered the cottage, I believe, +accidentally, and was shocked at what she saw +here.’</p> + +<p>‘<em>Mrs Jones!</em>’ repeated Paula wonderingly, +‘that is the baker’s wife. But who was it opened +the door to me, then?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, that is an hospital nurse of my acquaintance +who I took upon myself to send for from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> +Durnham, as I felt you would not like the body +to lie here unwatched.’</p> + +<p>‘Thank you,’ replied Paula, as she commenced +to weep afresh; but suddenly she started up +again with the question: ‘But the child—<em>where</em>, +then, is the child?’</p> + +<p>‘<em>The child!</em>’ echoed Mr Courtfield, in a tone of +mystification.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, my little boy, who lived here with my +mother. Where is he? He must be with someone +in Grassdene. Eliza must be taking care +of him somewhere. Why are they not here to +meet me?’</p> + +<p>‘I am quite unable to answer your questions, +Mrs Rushton. I am a stranger in Grassdene, +and I never entered this cottage nor saw your +poor mother until she was dead. It was Mrs +Jones who gave me your name and address. +But she said nothing about a child. Perhaps the +little boy is with her.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I must see Mrs Jones,’ exclaimed Paula +impatiently. ‘I must hear all she can tell me +about this terrible mystery. My mother, ill and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> +alone. It is too horrible to think of. I shall +not be satisfied till I have seen Mrs Jones and +Eliza.’</p> + +<p>‘Mrs Jones I will go and fetch for you at +once,’ said Mr Courtfield, taking up his hat, ‘and +doubtless she will tell you where the servant is. +If you want anything in my absence, will you +call Nurse Moore? You will find her very +attentive and kind,’ and Mr Courtfield hurried +away.</p> + +<p>As he disappeared Hal held out both his arms +to Paula, and folded her closely to his heart.</p> + +<p>‘Weep here, my darling,’ he said. ‘I will give +you twice the love I have done hitherto now +that you have lost hers.’</p> + +<p>‘Hal,’ she whispered fearfully, ‘<em>what</em> shall we +do about the child?’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t worry your dear head about anything +more than you can help at present. All will +come right in the end, Paula. You will have +but to express your wishes for your husband +to carry them out to the very best of his ability.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, what should I do without you?’ she cried, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> +as she nestled closely to him. ‘You are my +world.’</p> + +<p>But at this juncture in bustled Mrs Jones, with +her arms and face a mass of flour, fresh from +the baking house.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Mrs Rushton,’ she exclaimed, ‘how +glad I am you’re come, for I’ve had such a +shock as I thought I could never have got +over. Your poor dear ma!’</p> + +<p>Paula had known the baker’s wife before her +first marriage, and consequently had no hesitation +in speaking to her of her private affairs.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, indeed, Mrs Jones, it has been a terrible +blow for all of us. But tell me how it happened. +I want to know <em>everything</em>.’</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, my poor dear, there’s nothing to tell, +except that the day before yesterday, as ’Liza +hadn’t been round for the bread in the morning +as usual, I thought I’d run in and see if there +was any mistake, and when I walked in by the +back door, which stood open, and went into +the kitchen, you might have knocked me down +with a feather, for there sat your poor dear ma, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> +in all her clothes, stiff and cold. I thought +she was sleeping at first, but when I touched +her and see her face—there, it almost killed +me, too.’</p> + +<p>‘Had there been—foul play?’ demanded +Paula, with horror-stricken eyes.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no, my dear, ’twas her heart, as the +doctor will tell you, and it had been weak for +years, as <em>I</em> knew well. And she couldn’t have +suffered, poor dear lady, for she looked as calm +as an infant, just as she looks at this moment, +bless her.’</p> + +<p>‘But where was Eliza, Mrs Jones? Was <em>she</em> +not with my poor mother when she was taken +ill? Why didn’t she send for the doctor +sooner?’</p> + +<p>‘My dear lady, no one knows where Eliza is. +That is the strange part of it. I see her, as it +might be, on the Saturday when she came to +our place for two loaves, and it was because she +didn’t call on the Monday, nor yet on the Tuesday, +that I took the liberty to look in here. But none +of us have seen Eliza since, not even her aunt, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> +so we thought as Master Paulie had gone to +you, perhaps—’</p> + +<p>‘Master Paulie with <em>me</em>!’ interpolated her +listener. ‘Who told you that? He has not been +with me, Mrs Jones, since my marriage.’</p> + +<p>‘Why, surely,’ cried the baker’s wife, ‘’Liza +told me on Saturday as the child was going or +had gone (I’m sure I forget which) up to stay +with you in Deepdale, and when the girl was +missing, and your poor dear ma unable to say +nothing to nobody, I made sure ’Liza had gone +to take care of him. I was telling her aunt, Mrs +Chandler, so only last evening, as we was talking +it over, and saying how strange it was as she had +never come to say good-bye.’</p> + +<p>But here she was interrupted by a loud cry +from Paula,—</p> + +<p>‘But where <em>is</em> the child, then? Where is my +poor helpless little boy? Oh, God! am I to +lose them both in one day?’</p> + +<p>Hal Rushton and Mrs Jones both looked +aghast. Where could the poor imbecile child +be? What mystery was involved in the death +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> +of Mrs Sutton and the disappearance of her unfortunate +charge?</p> + +<p>‘But the child <em>must</em> be somewhere in Grassdene,’ +exclaimed Hal. ‘He scarcely left his +grandmother’s sight. Some of the villagers +must know where he is.’</p> + +<p>‘I’m <em>sure</em> he’s not in Grassdene,’ returned the +baker’s wife, ‘for there isn’t a soul here but +what knows the other, and one would have no +need to ask twice about it. Besides, haven’t +we all known Master Paulie from his birth? +And it was so natural to think he’d gone to +visit his mother. I’m sure I never doubted it +for a moment.’</p> + +<p>‘Something terrible must have happened,’ +moaned Paula. ‘The boy has fallen over the +cliffs, or been brutally murdered, and the shock +has killed my poor mother. I feel sure of it. +She loved Paulie so dearly. But where is Eliza, +who might have solved the mystery? Why has +<em>she</em> disappeared also? Oh, Hal, the uncertainty +and darkness of it all seems the hardest part to +bear.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span></p> + +<p>Hal tried to soothe and reassure his wife, but +he had his own suspicions on the subject.</p> + +<p>Supposing the poor child had lost his life +through the carelessness of the servant, been +drowned, perhaps, or allowed to fall over the +cliffs, and the shock of hearing the news had +killed Mrs Sutton, what more likely than the +fear of disclosure and blame had induced Eliza +to run away from her native village and seek +a situation elsewhere. But this was pure conjecture, +and he would not worry his wife by +suggesting it. Yet it was very hard to listen to +her lamentations and fears and be able to say +nothing to comfort her. After a while they +went upstairs together hand in hand, and stood +with bated breath beside the silent body of the +dead. Mrs Sutton, who had once been a very +pretty woman, and had possessed an amiable +disposition, should have looked very calm and +peaceful lying in her shroud. But she did not. +There was a strained and anxious look upon +her features, which her daughter noticed at once, +as a sign that her death had not been a painless +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> +one. But Nurse Moore corrected her. It +had been ascertained beyond doubt that her +decease was due to failure of the action of the +heart, and that her spirit had passed away as +she sat in an ordinary manner in her arm-chair. +But the grieving daughter could not be satisfied. +She wept over the marble face of her +dead mother until her husband drew her by +force from the chamber, and then all her cry +was for her lost child. The maternal solicitude +which had seemed to slumber in the boy’s presence +was called to life under the dread that +she should never see him again, and she passed +the day in wild lamentations over her double +loss and futile conjectures as to how one at +least of them had been occasioned.</p> + +<p>‘Hal,’ she said to her husband, as they sat +at night together in the desolate little parlour, +‘did I not tell you, when I first heard of my +poor mother’s illness, that God had sent a +judgment upon me for being so happy? What +right had I to be light-hearted and prosperous, +and surrounded by friends, whilst I left my +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> +darling mother to live here alone, and bear all +the trouble and anxiety of my ill-fated child? +It is as though I had been cowardly enough +to run away from the burden I created for +myself.’</p> + +<p>‘Your mother thought differently, Paula. She +told me that whenever she looked at poor +little Paul she felt she could not blame herself +sufficiently for having persuaded you—a child +in experience—to marry a man of whom you +both knew so little as Captain Bjornsën. I +believe it was this feeling of self-reproach +which made her so devoted to the child, and +so anxious to relieve you of the burden of +him.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah! my mother was an angel,’ cried Paula, +weeping afresh; ‘she loved me too much. My +unhappy marriage was the fault of no one +except the man who turned it into a hell for +me, and made me almost hate the sight of +the poor child who reminded me of him. May +God forgive me for it. I shall never forgive +myself. I was not a mother to Paulie. I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> +scarcely ever felt as if he belonged to me. +And yet, Hal, when he was first born, I was +so fond and proud of him. I forgot all my +past trouble in the joy of having a baby of +my own. When he smiled at me, in a baby’s +meaningless way, I used to think he knew how +miserable I had been, and wanted to console +me for it, and dreamed of the time when he +would be a strong, kind man, to defend me +and take care of me and be the comfort of +my life. And then, as time passed on and the +smile never seemed to have any more meaning +in it, and his eyes, which could see flowers +and birds and water, failed to recognise me, +and the dreadful truth was broken to me by +Dr Gibbon, that my boy was an idiot, my heart +seemed to harden against Providence, and instead +of pitying the poor little creature, I shrunk +from him. <em>Mother</em> didn’t. My own blessed +mother opened her arms to the child whom my +cold heart had deserted, and drew him into +them. He never gave a proof of his want of +intellect but she showered fresh love upon +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> +him, whilst <em>I</em> could remember nothing but the +cruel blows and curses that made him what he +was. And now it is all over. I feel that I +am no longer a mother, and I would give the +world to bring him back again. My poor, +innocent, unoffending child!’</p> + +<p>‘Paula, my dearest, you must not despair. +We shall find him yet. The boy cannot +have been lost in a place like this. Perhaps +the girl Eliza, frightened by your mother’s +sudden death, ran home with Paulie to her +friends.’</p> + +<p>‘No! No! She <em>has</em> no friends. She is an +orphan, and was brought up by her aunt, Mrs +Chandler, who complains of not having seen +her before she left. Where Eliza may be, I +cannot tell, but I am sure that my child is +dead. He used to wander about these slopes +all by himself looking for wild flowers. He +must have fallen over them. His little body +is lying somewhere on the beach, smashed to +pieces. I feel it. I know it. I shall see it +lying so all my life. Oh, Hal, this will kill +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> +me. I cannot remain on earth when those two +have gone to Heaven.’</p> + +<p>‘But, Paula, if there is any foundation for +your fears, you shall, at least, not remain in this +torturing uncertainty,’ said Hal. ‘To-morrow I +will engage men to search the whole of the +coast for ten miles round, to see if they can +find any traces of such a catastrophe. If they +fail to do so, I hope you will be satisfied that +you are mistaken.’</p> + +<p>‘But if he has not fallen over the cliffs, he +may have been drowned in the sea. Oh, Hal, +I am certain he has come by a violent death, +and the shock killed my dear mother. Why else +should she have that strained and pained look +on her dead features. Nurse Moore says she +can have suffered no physical pain, but she +experienced some awful shock or fright, I am +sure of that. All the rest of my life I shall be +haunted by that look. It is as if she had died +longing to tell <em>me</em> something that would affect +my peace of mind. And what could that be +but the death of my poor child. Oh, God! if +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> +I might but have seen and spoken to her, if +only for ten minutes, before you took her away +from me for ever.’</p> + +<p>‘Paula, my darling, I know what you must be +suffering under this harrowing suspense, but +don’t lose heart until we have seen Eliza. We +<em>must</em> be able to trace Eliza. A girl like that +could not have possessed the means to go very +far. If she has been frightened away by your +mother’s death, she is sure to come back +after a while. Hunger alone will compel her +to do so. Mr Courtfield told me that your old +friend Dr Gibbon is expected back to-morrow. +Try and be patient till you have seen him. +He may be able to throw light upon the subject. +For my sake, Paula, for <em>my</em> sake, don’t make +yourself ill with the violence of your grief.’</p> + +<p>But though Paula did not reject her husband’s +tenderness, it only seemed to make her tears +flow faster, until she wept herself to sleep, from +sheer exhaustion, in his arms.</p> + +<p>The next day brought home Dr Gibbon, but +he could give them no relief. He was very +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> +much shocked to hear of his old friend’s sudden +death (although he had known what she +suffered from for years past), but he could tell +them nothing about little Paul, whose disappearance, +with that of the servant girl, was as +mysterious to him as to everyone else. The last +time he had seen the child and his grandmother +they had both been in their usual health and +spirits, and he had a toy in his portmanteau +which he had brought back for the little boy. +He visited every house in the village, questioning +as he went, but not a soul appeared to have +heard or seen anything to point to the occurrence +of an accident. The person who could +be traced as the very last to have seen or +spoken with Paulie was a little girl called +Becky Silver, who affirmed she had met him +and Eliza on Tuesday morning whilst they were +talking to a man.</p> + +<p>‘Who was the man?’ demanded Dr Gibbon.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know, sir. I never see’d ’im before. +I’m thinking he was a tramp. He was very +dusty, and ’is ’at was broken.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> + +<p>‘Was he young or old?’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know, sir. I couldn’t see ’is face. +They was on the other side the ’edge. I think +the man was begging or summat. I ’eard +’Liza talking to ’im, but Paulie ’e never say +nothing.’</p> + +<p>‘Where did they go?’</p> + +<p>‘They didn’t go nowheres, sir. They stood +still on t’other side the ’edge.’</p> + +<p>‘Did Eliza seem friendly with this man?’</p> + +<p>‘No, sir. She didn’t seem nothink. She +was settling Paulie’s pinafore.’</p> + +<p>‘Why didn’t you speak to them, Becky?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I never do, sir. I can’t a-bear ’Liza, +and Paulie he’s got no sense. I didn’t even +nod to ’em. I just walked on and said +nothink.’</p> + +<p>‘This witness can evidently throw no light +upon the mystery,’ said Dr Gibbon to Hal +Rushton; ‘but I don’t like the idea of the +tramp. And yet, what would a tramp get by +carrying off or murdering this poor little child? +He did not belong to rich people. The clothes +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> +on his back would not have fetched five +shillings.’</p> + +<p>‘And yet murder has been committed for +less,’ remarked Hal.</p> + +<p>‘You are right, sir, but not in open daylight +and in the presence of a witness. It’s the girl’s +disappearance that puzzles me. What has <em>she</em> +gone away for? It is incomprehensible.’</p> + +<p>‘My wife will insist that some accident +must have happened to the child through the +carelessness of the servant, and that when +she found the announcement caused her mistress’s +death she was so terrified that she ran +away.’</p> + +<p>‘It would be an excellent surmise if an +accident <em>had</em> happened, but how could a child +fall over these cliffs without all the village +knowing it? The population lives by fishing. +The beach is seldom without men and women +on it.’</p> + +<p>‘So <em>I</em> say, but to satisfy Paula I have engaged +a dozen fishermen who know the coast +to search it in every possible place. The certainty +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> +of the poor child’s death would be better +than this cruel suspense. I feel, if it goes on, +that it will kill her.’</p> + +<p>‘No, no; she will get over it. It is doubly +hard coming at the same time as her mother’s +death, but the boy could never have been +anything but a trouble to her, and when time +has convinced her that he is gone for ever, +she will find it a relief. And let us hope she +may in due time have other children to make +her entirely forget her unfortunate firstborn.’</p> + +<p>‘God grant it,’ said Hal Rushton reverently.</p> + +<p>But though every trouble was taken, and no +money was spared, not a trace could be found +of the missing child or servant girl, and inquiries +at the nearest station proved of no avail. +No such man as Becky Silver had described had +been known to alight at or depart from the +platform, and the only thing left to be done +was to place descriptions of the missing persons +in the hands of the police. After which the +whole agitation seemed to go to sleep for ever. +Meantime, Mrs Sutton’s funeral took place, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> +Hal Rushton and Dr Gibbon were the only +mourners who followed to see her laid to rest +in the little graveyard beside the hill, whilst +Paula sat at home like a statue, stupefied with +grief. She had left off accusing herself of being +the murderer of her mother and the destroyer +of her child, but one could plainly see that she +still believed it.</p> + +<p>The mother’s love, that had slept so long, had +wakened with tenfold force, and no woman who +has loved and lost her baby could ever suffer +as Paula suffered at the hands of her accusing +conscience. Even when Hal, in his great love +and pity for her, timidly suggested what Dr +Gibbon had alluded to, and told her he should +pray that God would send another child to comfort +and console her, she turned round upon +him in a manner she had never done before, +and declared she wanted no more children; that +nothing and no one could make up to her for +the loss of Paulie; and that she should weep +for him to the end of her days.</p> + +<p>And so her husband took her back to Highbridge +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> +Hall, still miserable and dejected, and +with the terrible doubt about her child to make +matters worse, and a great dread of meeting any +of her friends or neighbours again.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span></p> + + + <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI"> + CHAPTER VI.<br> + <span>THE WIDOW’S STRATAGEM.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap">It</span> was about a week after the young Rushtons’ +return to Deepdale, and the widow and her son +were seated at tea together in the parlour of +Wavertree Cottage, when they perceived Sarah +Brennan at the garden gate. The table was +in much the same condition as it used to be at +Highbridge Hall before Paula was installed as +mistress there. An iron tray, without a cloth, +held the teapot and cups and saucers, whilst +the bread, bearing greasy marks of butter over +it, and the butter plentifully besprinkled with +bread crumbs, were set upon the red worsted +tablecloth, after the fashion of the lower classes. +There was no stint, however, though plenty of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> +vulgarity. Eggs and cream from the Highbridge +dairy, and home-made preserves from the Highbridge +storeroom—part of the spoils carried +away after the domestic siege—were engaging +the attention of Mrs Rushton and her son, +when they perceived Lady Bristowe’s companion +wrestling with the latch of the gate.</p> + +<p>‘Why, lor’, if there ain’t that woman Brennan,’ +cried the widow, with her mouth full. ‘What on +hearth can she want with us? I’m sure I’ve +never given her any encouragement, but I +s’pose we must hoffer her a dish of tea.’</p> + +<p>‘That won’t ’arm us,’ rejoined Ted Snaley. +‘But look ’ere, mother, don’t you be a-giving +yerself away, at the same time, as you did to +Ellen Foster yesterday arternoon. You told ’er +a deal too much. Wot’s the good of letting all +Deepdale know as we’re not intimate at the +’All? Don’t you s’pose it’ll go round the place? +Don’t we ’ope to be so, and <em>mean</em> to be so, into +the bargin? But I’m always a-telling you you +must work more dark. Pretend as we knows +everything, and are always there, and then it’ll +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> +come quite natural when we are. Do you +understand me now?’</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, yes, Ted. But do go and ’elp that +poor creature, for she don’t seem to know +where the latch is.’</p> + +<p>‘All right. But, remember, if she tells you +anything you don’t know you’re to look as if +you did.’</p> + +<p>‘I won’t forget, Teddy. You’re a sharp ’un, +to be sure,’ replied the widow, chuckling over +his advice.</p> + +<p>In another minute Miss Sarah Brennan had +found her way into the room.</p> + +<p>‘Good-evening,’ ejaculated her hostess; ‘this +<em>is</em> a honner, to be sure. I ’ope I see you +well, miss, and hall the Habbey party. How +do her ladyship like this change? Quite chilly, +ain’t it? We shall have winter ’ere before we +knows it. You’ll ’ave a cup of tea?’</p> + +<p>‘Thank you, Mrs Rushton, I shall be obliged,’ +returned Miss Brennan, ‘for I’ve been on my +feet all the afternoon. Her ladyship has driven +over to see Lord and Lady Warden, and dropt +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> +me in Deepdale on her way, and I’m going +to walk back to the Abbey this evening. We +drove first to the Hall to inquire after Mrs +Hal Rushton, but she wouldn’t see us, and we +could hear no particulars whatever. Lady +Bristowe was sadly vexed. She has taken such +an interest in Mrs Rushton she quite thought +<em>she</em> would be admitted, whoever was denied. +I could see it ruffled her. So I thought I +would walk over here before I went home and +learn if you could give me a little information +about the matter.’</p> + +<p>The widow had just begun to say ‘Lor’, my +dear, I don’t know no more than you do,’ +when a violent kick under the table from Mr +Snaley’s hobnailed boots recalled her to her +senses.</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, my dear,’ she said instead, ‘I don’t know +as I can tell you anything satisfactory. It’s a +family matter, you see, that only concerns ourselves. +My poor daughter-in-law has lost her +poor mother very suddent like, and it’s so upset +’er, as well it may, that she feels as if +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> +she couldn’t a-bear to see no one but Ted and +me.’</p> + +<p>‘And Mr Rushton, I suppose?’ said Miss +Brennan, as she sipped her tea.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, ’Al, of course. He don’t count. He’s +the same to ’er as me and my boy there. +But she’s very much shook and upset, and +quite ill, as you may say, and confined to her +room.’</p> + +<p>‘But how did it all happen, Mrs Rushton? +<em>That</em> is what her ladyship wants to know. +The gentleman was out when we called to-day, +and the servant knew nothing except that Mrs +Hal Rushton had lost her mamma very suddenly, +and had seen no one since she came home +but Mrs Measures.’</p> + +<p>‘And me and mother. The first person she +called out for was mother,’ interpolated Ted.</p> + +<p>‘In course,’ said Mrs Rushton, ‘and what +more nateral, poor dear.’</p> + +<p>‘You can tell me, then, how it was that Mrs +Sutton died? Her ladyship is anxious to hear +all the particulars.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span></p> + +<p>‘Mrs <em>’oo</em>?’ cried the widow.</p> + +<p>‘Mrs Sutton, Mrs Rushton’s mother. Ah! +I know she called herself “Stafford” whilst she +was teaching at the schoolhouse, but she told +Lady Bristowe that she only did that to save +her family name.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, in course,’ repeated the widow, who +had got so out of her depth that her tea and +bread-and-butter effected a collision that caused +her to choke and splutter for the next five +minutes. ‘And so Mrs ’Al told her ladyship +that. Well, I didn’t think she’d let it out of +the family, but there’s no ’arm done, arter all, +and she can please ’erself. And what more is +it you wants to know, miss?’</p> + +<p>‘What did Mrs Sutton die of? Was it heart +complaint?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, miss, it were. She was always complaining +of it, poor dear, for years past, and it +took her off suddent at the last, as it always +do. There ain’t much to tell beside that. Mrs +’Al ’eard the noos the evening she give the +“feet” at the ’All. Me and Ted, we wasn’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> +there, as perhaps you’ve ’eard, miss. My son +and daughter, of course, they was most pressing +as we should go, but I had an ’orful attack of +tic-doloureux, and Ted ’e’s that dootiful ’e +wouldn’t leave me. ’Al, ’e says, “Whatever shall +we do without you, mother?” ’e says; but there, +miss, you can understand it must be painful +for me to attend any merrymaking in the +’ouse where my dear good ’usband lived and +died.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, I can quite understand it,’ replied +Miss Brennan; ‘and then your daughter-in-law +didn’t behave quite nicely to you or anyone +while she was at the schoolhouse, did she? Of +course, I don’t mean anything wrong, but we +heard of it over at the Abbey, at least I did, +and so did our curate, Mr Vernon.’</p> + +<p>Mrs Rushton was just about to launch forth +on her beloved scandal when another kick from +Ted caused her to wince with pain.</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, Ted,’ she exclaimed rather testily, ‘I +wish you’d keep your feet t’other side the table. +You always was fine in the feet from a boy. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> +You’re quite mistook, Miss Brennan, as everybody +helse was about the school’ouse,’ she continued +to her guest. ‘It was a mistake from +beginning to end, as even our vicar Mr Measures +’ad to acknowledge. Why, she stayed in the +vicarage first of all, and ’er ladyship called on +’er there. You must have ’eard that as well?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, ma’am. I’ve heard pretty well +<em>everything</em>,’ rejoined Miss Brennan; ‘but her ladyship +having, as you may say, taken up Mr and +Mrs Hal Rushton, and shown a good deal of +sympathy about Mrs Sutton’s state of health, +is naturally hurt at being kept in the dark about +her death, as she quite expected to be the first +to hear all the particulars.’</p> + +<p>‘But there ain’t nothing to tell,’ replied Mrs +Rushton. ‘As soon as Mrs ’Al ’eard ’er mother +was ill she went down with ’er ’usband to +Devonshire, but the poor lady was gone before +they got there. And when the burial was over +they come ’ome. And it shook the poor girl +up considerably, as it would do to hanyone with +a ’eart.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> + +<p>‘And was Mrs Sutton buried at—at—I forget +the name of the place where she lived,’ said +Sarah Brennan inquisitively.</p> + +<p>The widow, who had never heard it, was +nonplussed.</p> + +<p>‘No, she wasn’t’ she answered stoutly; ‘the +body was taken away to be buried in the +family vault in London.’</p> + +<p>‘Bravo, mother!’ cried Ted Snaley, clapping +her on the back when Miss Brennan, finding +she could extract no further information, had disappeared, +‘you did famously. Blest if I couldn’t +’ave roared aloud when you come out with the +family vault. Don’t you see how much better +it is not to let out as we’re all at loggerheads?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes. But I say, Ted, there’s summat fishy +about Mrs ’Al. I always said so, and I’m sure +on it. Now, why did she give a false name +when she come here?’</p> + +<p>‘That’s jest what I want you to find out, but +you won’t do it by sticking at Wavertree Cottage. +I bet there’s lots be’ind that no one knows +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> +but ’erself. Things, p’r’aps, as would make ’Al +kick ’er out from the ’All like a dog. Think +of that. And you’re just the woman to worm +’em out of ’er.’</p> + +<p>‘Aye, if she’d take a little more kindly +to me. But she ’as sich a stand off manner +with ’er.’</p> + +<p>‘So she ’ad when things were all right, but +this here is jest your time. From what I +’ear, she’s regular down in ’er luck. Charlotte +the dairymaid told me yesterday that she’s +quite ill with frettin’, and she won’t see no +one. Mrs Measures was in her room for ten +minutes when she first come ’ome, and that’s +all. She’s refused herself to heverybody, and +don’t seem to ’ave no ’eart even to order dinner, +nor to go hout nor hin, but sits all day in ’er +own room crying.’</p> + +<p>‘But if she won’t see no one, Ted, what’s +the use of my trying.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, you must go to ’er as a nuss, and not +as a visitor. Make some of your beef jelly, or +other nostrums, and take it up in your ’and. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> +And if she won’t see you the first day, go the +second, and the third, until she <em>do</em> see you. +You can do it if you choose, mother. And +now that the shooting season’s on, ’Al’s out all +day almost, and you will be able to get at ’er +alone. Make yourself useful to ’er. Order the +dinners, and look after the ’ousekeeping, and see +if you can’t get back some of your old hinfluence +at the ’All.’</p> + +<p>‘You’re a <em>very</em> clever lad, Ted,’ exclaimed his +mother, as she regarded his ugly face and ungainly +figure with fond admiration.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I can see through a brick wall as far +as any, I s’pose,’ rejoined her amiable offspring, +‘and I am sure if you wants to get any hinfluence +hover that young person, you must do it by fair +means and not by foul. Don’t you remember +what a fuss she made over that there pincushion +you took to ’er when we went to the +’All?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, and it was you as told me to take it, +too. Well, Ted, I’ll foller your advice again, +my lad, and set about making some of my beef +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> +jelly. It’ll set beautiful this cool weather. And +I’ll make a junket as well. Grapes and game +and all sorts they ’ave at the ’All, but they +’aven’t an ’and like mine to turn out jellies and +junkets.’</p> + +<p>Accordingly, the very next day saw Mrs +Rushton taking her way to Highbridge Hall, +carrying a basket carefully covered with a white +cloth. She did not ask for admittance. She +walked straight into the house, through the +kitchen premises, and Hal being after the +pheasants and partridges, there was no one in +authority to bar the way. The servants had +no right to deny her ingress, and they would +not have dreamt of doing so, considering the +position she had so lately held there. She +merely asked for dishes on which to pile her +dainties, and inquired in which room Mrs Hal +Rushton was to be found.</p> + +<p>‘I think the mistress is in her boo-daw,’ replied +the housemaid, ‘but I’m afraid you won’t +get in, mum. She won’t open the door for +nobody.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span></p> + +<p>‘Oh, I’m sure she will open it for <em>me</em>,’ said +the widow, as she arranged her offerings upon +a tray.</p> + +<p>‘She haven’t eaten enough to feed a fly since +she come ’ome,’ remarked the cook.</p> + +<p>‘That’s why I’ve brought ’er some of my +sick-room jelly,’ returned Mrs Rushton. ‘You +mustn’t be offended, cook, but I’ve sick-nussed +for thirty year, and should know summat about +it by this time.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no offence, Mrs Rushton, mum,’ cried +the cook. ‘I should have thought a nice solid +bit o’ beef would ’ave done the missus more +good, but there’s no sayin’. Some relishes one +thing and some another, and so long as you +eat it don’t much signify what it is,’ and so +the widow was allowed to carry her tray upstairs +without molestation.</p> + +<p>Poor Paula was indeed very much in need of +comfort. She had cried herself nearly blind, +but her tears had brought her no relief. She +could think, indeed, of her poor mother as safe +and happy in Heaven, but her heart was sick +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> +and heavy with fears for Paul. Where was he? +What was he doing? Was he alive and suffering, +or dead and at rest? These thoughts tortured +her day and night, and she felt as if they +would never be satisfied. She shrunk from seeing +any of her friends or acquaintances. She +could not speak of her mother yet. The wound +had been too recently inflicted, and she feared +lest in her agony of doubt she might blurt out +something about Paul. Her husband was everything +that was good and kind to her, and if +love could have cured her pain, it would have +already disappeared, but he could do nothing +to mitigate the tortures of suspense and remorse +which she was suffering. And so she had +prayed him to leave her, had even summoned +up the ghost of a smile with which to send +him on his way, and tried hard, as soon as he +was gone, to reduce the chaos of her mind to +some sort of order, and force herself to attend +to her household duties. But anyone who has +tried it knows how very difficult that is whilst +the heart is bowed down with grief and the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> +mind distracted with anxiety. The petty details +of choice and expenditure jar so terribly by +contrast with the bigness of one’s sorrow, and +it hurts one’s pride to break down before one’s +inferiors. Paula was feeling all this as she lay +face downwards on the sofa in her boudoir and +heard a low tap at the door.</p> + +<p>‘It’s all right, cook,’ she answered fretfully. +‘There’s no hurry. Mr Rushton will not be +home till seven. I will send down my orders +as soon as I have thought of something.’</p> + +<p>But a voice answered,—</p> + +<p>‘It ain’t the cook, my dear. It’s jest me as +has took the liberty to bring you a little jelly +of my own making,’ and without waiting for +permission Mrs Rushton opened the door and +entered the room.</p> + +<p>Paula sat up on the sofa and regarded her +wonderingly. She could not believe at first +<em>who</em> had invaded her privacy, and to do the +widow justice she was honestly shocked by the +young wife’s appearance. Paula’s complexion +was white and sodden from lengthened weeping. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> +Her hair was untidily twisted round her +head, and she wore a dress of black crape cloth, +without the slightest relief, which added to the +pallor of her countenance. She looked wonderfully +altered, indeed, from the handsome young +woman who had received her friends so short +a time ago at the garden-party. All her beauty +seemed to have vanished in an hour. Mrs Rushton +could not restrain her surprise.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, lor’, my dear,’ she exclaimed, ‘you <em>do</em> +look bad. Why, whatever ’ave you been +a-doing to yourself?’</p> + +<p>‘I cannot see any visitors. Indeed, I am not +fit for it,’ said Paula faintly. ‘I am sorry, Mrs +Rushton, but I must ask you to excuse me.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, well, I ain’t a visitor—I’m only a sick-nuss, +and you’ve no call even to speak to me,’ +replied the widow, as she placed her tray upon +the table. ‘But it won’t do for you to go without +nourishment for so long, and so I ’ave made +bold to bring you a little beef jelly and a +Devonshire junket. And a glass of sherry wine, +too. That won’t do you no ‘arm.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span></p> + +<p>‘But I cannot—’ commenced Paula.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, you can. You’ve no need to worry +over them, but jest leave ’em there, and put a +spoonful to your lips as you feel inclined. You +mustn’t go too long, you know—not for ’Al’s +sake, nor yet your own. And though ’e never +<em>did</em> like me, my dear, on accounts of my marrying +his father, I’ve lost my own poor mother, +you see, at eighty-nine, and I feels for you.’</p> + +<p>Paula laid her head down upon the sofa +again, and concealed her face from view.</p> + +<p>‘Now, I’m not going to talk of it, my dear. +I know my place too well for that. I know +that though my poor dear good ’usband made +me mistress of all ’e ’ad, I’m not a lady born, +and Mr ’Al need never think as I’d presume +on the past now that heverythink is haltered. +But ’aving kep ’ouse for ’im for so many years, +and knowing well what a ’ardship it is to look +after dinners and sichlike for a young person +in your circumstances, I thought I’d come up +and see if I could be of hany use to you with +the servants—not to hintrude, you hunderstand, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> +but to save you the trouble of thinking at sich +a time.’</p> + +<p>‘Mrs Rushton,’ said Paula, raising her head +again, ‘I think it is very kind of you to have +thought of it—very, <em>very</em> kind. I don’t seem +as if I <em>could</em> think even of such trifles. My +head aches so—and—and—everything upsets +me.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, yes, <em>I</em> know,’ replied the widow soothingly, +‘and I didn’t ought to be here, but I +wanted to bring you up the jelly and junket +myself, and I’m going immediate. Well, now, +don’t you trouble to think of nothink. I’ll order +the dinners and breakfasts and heverythink if +it’ll save you a-doing of it. And to-morrow +I’ll come back and do the same. And don’t +let Mr ’Al worrit hisself, thinking as he’ll see +me. I’ve come up to try and save <em>you</em>, my +poor dear, and I’ll keep out of sight, never you +fear.’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t say that,’ urged Paula; ‘you are doing +me a great kindness. I wanted a little help so +much just now, and Hal will be the first to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> +acknowledge it. But I am really not fit to +talk.’</p> + +<p>‘In course not. I know what you’re feeling, +jest as if it was myself. And so now I’ll go +and see as Mr ’Al ’as heverythink comfortable +against ’e comes ’ome. But won’t you take jest +<em>one</em> teaspoonful of jelly afore I goes?’ said Mrs +Rushton coaxingly.</p> + +<p>‘To please <em>you</em>, I will,’ replied Paula.</p> + +<p>She swallowed two or three spoonfuls, and half +a glass of wine, and Mrs Rushton descended +to the kitchen quarters convinced that her +victory was won. There she told the servants, +much to their dissatisfaction, that their mistress +had deputed her to issue the necessary +household orders, and there she remained till +she had seen the seven o’clock dinner, to +which Hal sat down alone, properly dished and +served, when she resumed her walking attire +and walked back to Wavertree Cottage to +receive the congratulations of her son. Hal +Rushton was the least satisfied of all at the +new arrangement. He returned home from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> +shooting as the afternoon drew in, and sat down +rather sad and disappointed to a lonely dinner. +Paula declared herself to be still too ill or too +miserable to come downstairs, and the young +husband could not help comparing the depressing +influence of the present with the happy +remembrance of the past. How long, he +wondered, as he descended to the dining-room, +would his comfort be sacrificed to his wife’s +grief for her mother and her child. But a +charming little dinner awaited him. He had +been forced to put up with anything the country +cook chose to give him since his return home, +but this evening she had apparently excelled +herself. A dish of dainty cutlets, a roast +partridge, and some of his favourite pancakes, +soon put Hal into a better humour, for the +very best of men are influenced by their dinner, +and after a glass or two of Burgundy he felt +happy and hopeful again.</p> + +<p>‘My compliments to the cook,’ he said gaily, +as he got up from the table, ‘and tell her that’s +the best dinner she’s given me this week, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> +now that she has got into the straight path, I +hope she’ll keep to it. Has your mistress taken +anything to-day?’</p> + +<p>‘Only a little jelly and beef-tea, sir,’ replied +the parlour-maid.</p> + +<p>‘Well, send the tea up to her room, and tell +cook to let us have something nice with it—buttered +toast or cakes. Perhaps Mrs Rushton +will fancy them.’ And he ran up, two steps at +a time, into Paula’s presence.</p> + +<p>She was sitting up now, gazing with grief-stricken +eyes upon the fast gathering shadows +that were settling down upon the lawn and +surrounding foliage and leaving the little room +in darkness.</p> + +<p>Hal sat down on the sofa beside her, and +threw his arms about her waist.</p> + +<p>‘My darling,’ he exclaimed fondly, ‘why do +you sit in the dark? It is so gloomy.’</p> + +<p>‘It suits me all the better, Hal. I am +gloomy, too.’</p> + +<p>‘But you mustn’t give way to it, Paula. You +must try to look upon the brighter side of things.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span></p> + +<p>‘What brighter side is there for me? Oh, +this terrible uncertainty,’ pressing her hands +against her heart, ‘it is killing me.’</p> + +<p>‘No, dearest, for my sake, do not say anything +so cruel. Try to believe it is a certainty, +Paula. You know how careful Dr Gibbon and +I were to leave no stone unturned to ascertain +the truth, and that the case is now in the hands +of the sharpest detectives in London, so that if +there is anything further to learn about it we +shall, without doubt, receive the information.’</p> + +<p>‘And meanwhile, Hal—’ replied Paula in a +voice of pain.</p> + +<p>‘Meanwhile, darling, however hard the suspense +is to bear, you only share it with all +those who have lost friends at sea or by +any other mysterious accident. Hundreds of +mourners receive no certain assurance of their +loss, except such as time and silence bring +them. Not that I would depreciate the pain, +my dearest, only it grieves me so to see you +looking so pale and unhappy. What have +you eaten to-day?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> + +<p>‘Oh, plenty,’ said Paula listlessly. ‘The +servants have sent me up something almost +every hour.’</p> + +<p>‘<em>I</em> have had a capital dinner,’ continued Hal +briskly; ‘all my favourite dishes. I sent out +my compliments to cook in return for it, but +I fancy they are due <em>here</em> instead, and that my +dear girl has been trying to combat her own +feelings for the sake of her unworthy husband’s +comfort. I only wish you had enlivened the +meal with your presence, dear. Then it would +have been perfect.’</p> + +<p>‘<em>I</em> didn’t order it,’ replied Paula, in the same +languid voice. ‘I can’t think of anything now. +My head throbs so. It was Mrs Rushton.’</p> + +<p>‘<em>Mrs Rushton!</em>’ repeated Hal, with a frown.</p> + +<p>‘Yes. She came up here this morning to +know if she could be of any use to me with +the housekeeping, and I was only too thankful +to let her do it. She brought me some +jelly and junket she had made herself. I am +sure she means to be kind.’</p> + +<p>‘Perhaps,’ replied Hal, in an altered tone, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> +‘but the question is, <em>to whom</em>? I am sorry +you encouraged her, Paula. I would rather +have dined off cook’s hashed mutton by far.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I am not fit to do anything at present, +and no one else has offered to help me.’</p> + +<p>‘Mrs Measures is only too anxious to be +with you, and is a far better companion for +you than Mrs Rushton.’</p> + +<p>‘How could I ask Mrs Measures to come +here and order the dinner, and look after the +servants, when she has her own house to superintend?’ +said Paula fretfully. ‘Besides, Mrs +Rushton didn’t offer herself as a companion. +She only proposed to save me the household +drudgery that I feel at present utterly unfit +for. I think you are very hard upon her, +Hal. She can’t help having been born in an +inferior position to your own.’</p> + +<p>‘And I have never blamed her for it,’ replied +her husband; ‘but I know her better than you do. +I made a vow when she left the Hall that she +should never re-enter it. However, if she is of +any assistance to you—’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span></p> + +<p>‘Of course she is an assistance to me, +and more so than any stranger could be, because +she is familiar with all your likes and +dislikes.’</p> + +<p>‘She certainly managed to send up a dinner +to my taste to-day, and it is all the more surprising +because when she lived here, with that +detestable son of hers, I never had anything +fit to eat. Pray is she hanging about the house +now?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no, I suppose not. I conclude when +she had arranged the meals that she went +home. But she said she should come again to-morrow.’</p> + +<p>Hal gave a kind of mock groan.</p> + +<p>‘I hope the elegant Ted is not a necessary +part of the invasion,’ he said.</p> + +<p>Paula began to cry. She was so weakened she +was quite unfit to bear the least raillery or +opposition.</p> + +<p>‘Why should he be?’ she exclaimed. ‘Why +do you hint at such a thing? If you don’t wish +me to have any help or assistance, now that I am +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> +so broken down I am unfit for anything, go and +tell Mrs Rushton not to come here again, and +I will try and struggle on as best I can alone. +But oh, Hal,’ she continued, amidst gasping sobs, +‘if I cannot have rest and peace and quiet whilst +my brain seems as if it were on fire, I shall go +mad—I shall go mad, I know I shall—or I +shall die.’</p> + +<p>She flung herself, in utter abandonment, upon +the sofa as she concluded, and there was nothing +left for Hal to do but to soothe her. He hated +the very names of the widow and her son, but +he loved his wife from the bottom of his heart, +and felt for her bereavement as deeply as it was +possible for him to do. He threw his arms about +her slender form, and pressed his lips upon the +long fair hair that streamed over her shoulders, +and assured her a dozen times that she should +never hear him breathe another word against any +arrangement that tended to her comfort. He +would welcome anyone who relieved her of the +duties she felt unequal to perform, and if the +Hall had become distasteful to her he would take +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> +her away at once—to the seaside, or on the +continent, anywhere—so long as it brought peace +and distraction to her overwrought nerves. +Paula lay and listened to him almost as if she +were in a dream, until a sense of the self-sacrifice +he was proposing smote upon her +understanding.</p> + +<p>‘But to go away <em>now</em>,’ she said at length, in +a tone of wonder, ‘when the shooting season is +at its height, and hunting is just about to begin. +If you were to take me away from Deepdale +now, you would lose your whole year’s pleasure, +Hal.’</p> + +<p>‘And do you think that fact would influence +me for one moment against the thought of +doing you good, Paula? How little you must +think of my love for you. Why, dearest, I +would give up hunting and shooting and every +pursuit I like best, not only for a season +but a lifetime, to bring back the flush of +health to your face and the light of happiness +to your eyes. You don’t realise how I love +you, Paula.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span></p> + +<p>‘You are too good—too good,’ she murmured, +as she seized his hand and kissed it. ‘But oh, +my poor mother—my poor child! Oh, Hal, do +you think I shall ever know for <em>certain</em> what +has become of Paulie?’</p> + +<p>‘I am <em>sure</em> of it,’ he replied, with a feigned +assurance which he did not feel. ‘It is impossible +but that such means as we have employed +must sooner or later prove successful. +Only, my love must try and have patience. +And now, what is it to be? Will you come away +with me somewhere?’</p> + +<p>‘No, no, Hal; let me stay here—<em>here</em>, where +the news will reach me soonest. I am quite +content—indeed I am. Only, let me see no +one and hear no one unless I choose, and by-and-by +this cloud will pass away, and I shall +be myself again.’</p> + +<p>Hal Rushton sighed, but did not answer. <em>He</em> +thought silence and solitude the worst things +possible for her, but the medical men had told +him to let her have her own way, and he +feared to disobey them. So the days and weeks +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> +and months passed on, and very few people in +Deepdale saw anything of young Mrs Rushton, +whilst the widow had quite re-established herself +as housekeeper at Highbridge Hall.</p> + + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII"> + CHAPTER VII.<br> + <span>THE SCANDAL SPREADS.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap">Of</span> all Paula’s acquaintances, Lady Bristowe +was the most indignant at the turn affairs +had taken. She had quite expected that the +sudden devotion she had conceived for the +young wife was reciprocal, and that she would +be the first if not the only person admitted to +weep over her trouble with her, and carry the +interesting details far and wide. And when +she found that day after day she received the +same message, that Mrs Hal Rushton was +not well enough to see anybody, she became +affronted (as foolish people are apt to be), and +from having been Paula’s warmest partisan +became ready to cavil at her actions before +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> +anyone. The insult (as Lady Bristowe considered +it) was greatly aggravated one day +when, as her carriage stood before the Hall +door and she received the same answer to her +inquiries, the shabby figure of the Widow Rushton +was seen to walk up the drive and enter +the charmed portals without a question.</p> + +<p>‘Who is that person in black?’ demanded +her ladyship, with vulgar curiosity.</p> + +<p>The servant hesitated a moment.</p> + +<p>‘<em>That</em>, your ladyship? Oh, <em>that’s</em> Mrs Rushton +as was—the old lady, your ladyship—the +old gentleman’s widow.’</p> + +<p>‘And what is <em>she</em> doing here? I thought Mrs +Hal Rushton didn’t notice her,’ continued Lady +Bristowe.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, my lady. She’s here every day almost. +She does all the housekeeping since +the mistress has been so poorly, and sees after +the master’s dinners.’</p> + +<p>‘And does your mistress see <em>her</em>?’</p> + +<p>‘Sometimes, my lady. Mrs Rushton nurses +the mistress, like, and takes her trays up to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> +her room. But she don’t eat nothing to speak +of.’</p> + +<p>‘And your mistress can’t see <em>me</em>?’</p> + +<p>‘She sent her kind regards, if you please, +my lady, and she ain’t well enough to see no +one yet.’</p> + +<p>‘Very good. Palmer’ (this to the coachman), +‘drive home.’</p> + +<p>And Lady Bristowe sank back on her seat, +very red and indignant, and highly offended, +and from that day was quite ready to discuss +Paula’s behaviour from the worse point of +view.</p> + +<p>‘But you must not forget,’ said Mr Vernon, +when she laid her complaint before him, ‘that +Mrs Rushton has not been brought up in the +same sphere of life as yourself, and is probably +ignorant that she is guilty of a breach of +manners in excluding you when she admits so +undesirable a person as old Farmer Rushton’s +widow.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, that’s only an excuse, Mr Vernon, +because the girl’s young and pretty. Isn’t she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> +the daughter of an officer in the Royal Navy? +Where could she have learned better manners +than in the service?’</p> + +<p>‘Perhaps so—had she enjoyed the advantages +of it. But, you know, she was only the village +school teacher of Deepdale, and not quite +blameless even in that lowly department. For +my part, I was quite astonished to find her as +ladylike as she is.’</p> + +<p>‘She told us why she turned teacher—to assist +her mother, the person who is dead. But what +do you mean by saying she was not “quite +blameless,” Mr Vernon?’</p> + +<p>The curate looked distressed.</p> + +<p>‘Surely you must have heard of it. I wouldn’t +have mentioned it had I thought otherwise. +But—so intimate as you are with the +Measures—’</p> + +<p>‘Why, it was the Measures who introduced +this girl to me.’</p> + +<p>‘Just so; and therefore the little scandal (whatever +it was) is not worth repeating, since you +may be sure, had <em>they</em> believed it, they would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> +never have continued to honour Mrs Rushton +with their acquaintance.’</p> + +<p>‘But what was it? If the Measures could +bear it with impunity, so can I.’</p> + +<p>‘But is it kind or wise to spread such +tales? They are like the grain of mustard seed +that grows up in a night. They are far better +forgotten.’</p> + +<p>‘Not if there is no truth in them. Since you +have said so much, Mr Vernon, I must insist +on your finishing the story.’</p> + +<p>‘I wish I had never commenced it; but I +made sure you had already been told. It was +an ill-natured report set abroad, I believe, by +the churchwarden, Mr Gribble.’</p> + +<p>‘I know Mr Gribble. We have our straw, I +think, from him. What did he say about Mrs +Rushton?’</p> + +<p>‘I really can hardly remember,’ replied the +curate, who was sincerely repenting his rash +allusion; ‘but I know it was made the subject +of a clerical inquiry, from which the young +lady emerged, it must be presumed, with flying +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> +colours, since Mr and Mrs Measures still visit +her.’</p> + +<p>‘But you said she had not been “quite blameless,”’ +persisted Lady Bristowe, who scented a +scandal.</p> + +<p>‘I am vexed with myself for using such an +expression, Lady Bristowe. It was not fair to +your young friend.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, don’t call her by that name, Mr Vernon. +She has behaved so curiously, not to +say ungratefully, to me lately, that I really +cannot look upon myself any longer as her +friend.’</p> + +<p>‘I am sorry for that. I think you should +(as I said before) make allowances for her. I +think, myself, she was too young and refined +for the position of a school teacher. The churchwardens +expected her to behave as a servant, +whereas she took upon herself the liberties of a +gentlewoman.’</p> + +<p>‘In what way?’</p> + +<p>‘By receiving her friends in the schoolhouse +after hours.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p> + +<p>‘<em>Men</em> friends?’ said her ladyship sharply.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know—I am not quite sure—I am +really not competent to give an opinion,’ stammered +the curate. ‘I think, if you wish to hear +the story, you had better apply to Mrs Measures, +Lady Bristowe, who is sure to know the truth.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, it’s not of much interest to <em>me</em>,’ cried +her ladyship, tossing her head, and getting very +red in the face. ‘The young woman is hardly +likely to come to Tor Abbey again after the +heartless manner in which she has treated me. +She has been home for nearly six weeks, Mr +Vernon, and hardly a day has passed without +my going or sending to inquire after her health, +and asking if I could be of any service to her, +and I have received nothing in return but the +coldest and most consistent refusal—always +the same message, that she is too ill to see anyone. +And yet, when I was there yesterday afternoon, +I saw that low, ignorant woman Mrs +Rushton, I mean the old farmer’s widow, who, +I have understood, the young people would +have nothing to do with, walk into the house +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> +as if it belonged to her, and the servant told +me she was there every day in attendance on +her mistress. It’s not very likely after <em>that</em>, +Mr Vernon, that I shall waste any more of my +time or attention on Mrs Hal Rushton.’</p> + +<p>‘And yet,’ remarked the curate, ‘though the +widow is, as you say, an illiterate and low-born +person, she was, after all, the late Mr +Rushton’s wife, and no one could blame his +son for acknowledging it.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, dear, no. Certainly not,’ exclaimed Lady +Bristowe sarcastically; ‘but if that sort of company +is good enough for Mrs Hal Rushton, +<em>mine</em> is decidedly too good.’</p> + +<p>‘I can hardly imagine that fair, delicate +looking girl enjoying the companionship of Mrs +Rushton, senior,’ said Mr Vernon; ‘but perhaps +she permits it in deference to her husband’s +wishes.’</p> + +<p>‘No such thing, Mr Vernon. The husband +hates the old woman and her son. Mrs Measures +has told me so far. Depend upon it, the ladies +are congenial to each other, and perhaps, after +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> +all, her story about belonging to the Royal Navy +may be a subterfuge, and their stations in life +not so dissimilar.’</p> + +<p>‘But I thought you had found the name +and services of young Mrs Rushton’s father +recorded in the <cite>Navy List</cite>, Lady Bristowe?’</p> + +<p>‘But how am I to know the girl gave me +her right name? She passed under another at +the schoolhouse, you must remember. Indeed, +I think Mrs Measures was very wrong to +introduce her into society without knowing +more about her. <em>My</em> idea is that she will +turn out to be a regular impostor.’</p> + +<p>‘Come, come, your ladyship is going a little +too far. From what I hear, this poor girl seems +to have experienced a terrible shock from the +sudden death of her mother, and is really ill. +Dr Minton was very anxious about her a week +ago. When she recovers her mental equilibrium, +everything will be right again.’</p> + +<p>‘Not with <em>me</em>, Mr Vernon. I am not the +sort of person to chop and change with every +passing wind. I am only sorry I ever gave +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> +her one of my matchless Blenheims. I little +thought at the time that it would be subjected +to the companionship of a herdsman’s widow.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, the dog, at least, will not suffer from +the contact,’ exclaimed Mr Vernon, laughing. +‘And now my advice to your ladyship is to +go and have a talk over this matter with your +friend Mrs Measures, and her good sense will +put things straight between you.’</p> + +<p>But Lady Bristowe was obstinate as well as +foolish, and ready to believe herself the best +judge of her own actions. She had become +inquisitive on the subject of Paula’s misdemeanours +at the schoolhouse, and suspected +that Mrs Measures would make the best of +them, if not deny them altogether. So she +determined first to draw the truth out of Mr +Gribble. But she displayed great caution on +the occasion. She ordered her carriage to +call on some friends at a distance, and declined +to take Miss Brennan or the dogs with her.</p> + +<p>‘Ought not Totsie to go for a drive this +afternoon?’ pleaded the companion, who wanted +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> +one herself. ‘Your ladyship remarked that she +refused her breakfast this morning.’</p> + +<p>‘Mind your own business, Sarah Brennan,’ +exclaimed Lady Bristowe sharply, ‘and take the +dog for a walk in the garden instead. When +I want your company, I am perfectly able to +tell you so.’</p> + +<p>‘Old cat!’ ejaculated Miss Brennan, as the +carriage rolled down the drive. ‘I bet if she +had that pasty-faced Mrs Hal Rushton for a +companion she would take her with her everywhere. +But she never thinks of me unless it +is to look after her shawls or her dogs.’</p> + +<p>But if Sarah Brennan thought that Paula +Rushton stood higher in her employer’s estimation +that day than herself she was mistaken. +Lady Bristowe’s small mind was filled with the +desire to find out all she could against her late +<i lang="fr">protégée</i>, and as soon as she had called upon her +friends she desired the coachman to drive to +Deepdale and stop at Mr Gribble’s door. She +had some insignificant question to ask—some +trifling account for corn or straw to settle in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> +her hand—but her chief object in calling at +the churchwarden’s private residence was, of +course, to try and lead the conversation round +to Paula’s illness, and see what revelations the +mention of her name might not bring forth. It +happened, however, to be market day, and Mr +Gribble had gone to Haltham. Mrs Gribble +was at home, though, and seeing her ladyship’s +carriage stop at the door, she ran down the +garden path as fast as her unwieldy bulk would +permit her and stood at the wicket gate, with +her cap strings flying like pennants in the +autumn breeze.</p> + +<p>‘Good afternoon, Mrs Gribble,’ said Lady +Bristowe condescendingly. ‘Can I see Mr Gribble +on a little matter of business?’</p> + +<p>‘Mr Gribble is hout, your ladyship. He have +gone into Haltham to the market; but if your +ladyship will give your horders to me—’</p> + +<p>‘I will get out, Mrs Gribble, for a minute,’ +returned Lady Bristowe, as she placed her +plump hand on the shoulder of her footman +and descended to the ground.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span></p> + +<p>Mrs Gribble was astonished. Lady Bristowe +had never called at her house before—even to +pay a bill. Such transactions had always taken +place through her coachman. She could not +imagine what personal business she could have +with her. She hurried on first to open the +parlour door, and to usher her guest in, and +then she fidgeted about the room, uncertain +whether she ought to stand deferentially before +her or take a chair and look as if she were at +her ease.</p> + +<p>‘Is it the little account, my lady?’ she began +presently. ‘Mr Gribble ’e don’t care ’ow long +it run at the Habbey. I know that.’</p> + +<p>‘I have brought the account, and I wish to +pay it,’ replied Lady Bristowe, as she produced +the corn and hay bill and laid it with a ten-pound +note upon the table. ‘But I had also +a question to ask of Mr Gribble, which, doubtless, +you can answer as well. As churchwarden, +I believe he takes a good deal of interest in +the village school?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, my lady,’ said Mrs Gribble, who +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> +had ventured by this time to work herself into +a chair, ‘’e do. ’E’s most henergetic, is Mr +Gribble, in the church work, and spends hall +his spare time a-looking round. I’m sure I +and Mrs Haxworthy (which is the other churchwarden’s +lady) hoften says our good gentlemen +his married to the church and schools, +they’re so hoften there.’</p> + +<p>‘And have you a good teacher, Mrs Gribble? +Are you quite satisfied with her?’</p> + +<p>Mrs Gribble lifted her hands to denote her +admiration.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, your ladyship, we hare indeed. Miss +Brown, she’s jest a hangel. Such a contrast +to—’ But here Mrs Gribble, with sudden remembrance, +stopped short.</p> + +<p>‘Such a contrast to <em>what</em>, Mrs Gribble?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, my lady, I shouldn’t have spoke, perhaps, +but feelings will hup. But our former +teacher, Miss Stafford as was, is a friend, I +hear, hof your ladyship’s.’</p> + +<p>‘No, Mrs Gribble; you have been misinformed. +I <em>have</em> received Mrs Rushton at the Abbey, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> +but rumours have reached me since that make +me fear I was hasty—rumours of her behaviour +whilst she was the schoolmistress of Deepdale, +and, to tell you the truth, I came here to-day +to your husband, as to a God-fearing, upright, +conscientious man, to hear what he could tell +me regarding it. But, perhaps, <em>you</em> may remember +the circumstance?’</p> + +<p>‘<em>Remember</em> hit, my lady! No one hin Deepdale +will hever forget it—not if they lives to +be a ’undred. Mr ’Al Rushton, ’eadstrong like, +’e chose to marry ’er spite of heverythink, +hand so I s’pose it’s all hover, and one had +best ’old one’s tongue.’</p> + +<p>‘But, Mrs Gribble, I must beg you, in confidence, +to tell me what it was. I cannot, in +justice to my name and family, admit guests +to the Abbey of whose character there is the +slightest doubt. I must entreat you to tell +me all you know.’</p> + +<p>But Mrs Gribble held back. She could talk +to her equals fast enough, but to express her +sentiments before this grand lady might be to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> +lose the custom of half the gentry in the +neighbourhood. And she was a friend of Mrs +Measures, too.</p> + +<p>‘I’m sure, your ladyship,’ she commenced, +‘I’m loath to refuse you hanything, but Mr +Gribble ’e wouldn’t like my saying nothing as +could find its way back to the vicarage.’</p> + +<p>‘But they knew it—whatever it may be—at +the vicarage, surely?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, my lady. It was there the hinfamous +scandal was sifted, has you may say, +but Mrs Measures she chose to ’ave it ’ushed +up. Hand it’s as much has hour comfort’s +worth—Mr Gribble hand me—to say a word +more habout it.’</p> + +<p>‘It will never get to the vicarage through <em>me</em>,’ +remarked Lady Bristowe.</p> + +<p>‘You can promise <em>hour</em> names will not transpire, +my lady?’</p> + +<p>‘Certainly, Mrs Gribble. I ask you, <em>as a +friend</em>, to let me know the truth of this matter.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, well, my lady, hif it’s to oblige <em>you</em>,’ +cried Mrs Gribble, delighted to have a shot at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> +the enemy, ‘hi’d sacrifice heverythink. It was +a ’orrible thing, my lady—quite degrading. Miss +Stafford she was found by my own ’usband, late +at night, shut hup in her rooms with two gentlemen, +and one was quite a ferocious lookin’ feller +with a beard, a foreign chap, Mr Gribble said. +And when Miss Stafford as was she was hasked +for a hexplanation, she wouldn’t give none, not +heven his name, but stood there, hobstinate-like, +before the minister and the churchwardens, and +refused to hopen her mouth, and so she was +turned hout of her place with hignominy.’</p> + +<p>‘But how did Mr Rushton, who holds so good +a position here, come to marry her, then?’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, my lady, ’e was one of ’em. <em>’E</em> knew +more than met the heye, you may depend upon +that, so ’e thought fit to shelter ’er. She ’ad +to leave Deepdale whether or no. Not a lady +would send her daughters to learn of ’er after +they come to know of it; but Mr ’Al Rushton +’e follered ’er and married ’er (at least ’e <em>says</em> +’e married ’er), hand Mr and Mrs Measures they +hagreed for to let bygones be bygones, I s’pose, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> +and to receive ’er for ’er ’usband’s sake. But +’tisn’t heverybody in Deepdale has sees with +<em>their</em> heyes, your ladyship. ’Tain’t many has +calls hat ’Ighbridge ’All, though I ’ave ’eard +lately has that poor dear forgiving soul, Mrs +Rushton, the old gentleman’s widow, ’as been +good enough to go up and nurse Mrs ’Al through +the judgment that’s come upon ’er.’</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ said Lady Bristowe, who was burning +with indignation, ‘I <em>am</em> surprised that my friend +Mrs Measures never gave me a hint of all this. +I hardly think she has behaved fairly to me in +not doing so.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, my lady, there’s many a one in Deepdale +as has wondered to see the falarity you ’ave +demeaned yourself to use with Mrs ’Al Rushton. +A many would ’ave liked to speak, but durstn’t. +We was too low hand ’umble for that. But that +a lady like your ladyship should drive side by +side with a young person has was discovered in +such hacts—’</p> + +<p>‘It will <em>never</em> occur again, Mrs Gribble, you +may be sure of that,’ replied Lady Bristowe, as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> +she rose from her seat, ‘and I am very much +obliged to you for opening my eyes in the +matter. I shall not betray you, you may be +sure. I had already heard something of the +kind before from our curate, Mr Vernon. Never +mind the change from the note. You have two +little daughters, I believe, buy them some dolls +with what may be over. Good afternoon.’</p> + +<p>And Lady Bristowe got into her carriage and +drove away.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII"> + CHAPTER VIII.<br> + <span>A VALIANT PARTISAN.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap">Dear</span>, gentle Mrs Measures was seated in the +vicarage drawing-room, engaged in needlework. +She was one of those simple souls who neither +need nor seek for excitement, but are always +to be found when wanted—neatly dressed whatever +the hour of the day, and ready with a quiet +welcome for their visitors. Mrs Measures was +rather anxious about Paula just then, and as +she stitched away at the vicar’s shirts she was +thinking very earnestly about her. During all +her uneventful married life she had never conceived +so deep an interest in anyone as in Hal +Rushton’s wife. She had never believed a word +against her, and she never would. Whatever +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> +might have been equivocal in her actions whilst +she was the school teacher of Deepdale, Mrs +Measures felt sure could be easily explained if +Paula chose to explain it, and the only puzzling +part of it to the vicar’s wife was that she had +<em>not</em> so chosen. It had seemed to her simple +mind such an easy way by which to set matters +right with everyone. But Paula had elected +otherwise, and the affair had almost faded from +Mrs Measures’ mind. The girl was married now, +and in quite a different position of life. What +was worrying her friend about her at the present +moment was her utter abandonment to her +grief for her mother’s death. It was so hopeless—so +unresigned—that it seemed wicked in Mrs +Measures’ sight. She had seen her several times—Paula +would not deny herself to this her best +and dearest friend in Deepdale—but her visits +had not been calculated to make either of them +happier. Paula’s violent outbursts of despair, +of self-reproach, even of questioning the goodness +of the Hand that had laid the bereavement +upon her, had shocked and grieved Mary +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> +Measures, who under similar circumstances would +have bowed her head to the storm, and let all +God’s waves go over her. She did not blame +her young friend, whose sorrow was evidently +genuine, but she felt unhappy about her, and +wished she would open her heart freely, and see +if together they could not discern some streak of +light in the appalling darkness. But Paula was +remarkably reserved even with Mrs Measures. +The same determination not to open her lips +that had displayed itself under her cross-examination +by the vicar and the churchwardens seemed +to have come over her again, and though she +kept on moaning for her mother, she steadfastly +refused to air the subject, or to enter into any +details concerning it, and Mrs Measures believed +that until she could bring herself to do so her +grief would stand no chance of working its own +cure. She was musing thus, sad, but very loyal +to the girl she had learned to love, when Lady +Bristowe’s carriage stopped before the door. +Mrs Measures did not particularly enjoy the +society of Lady Bristowe, but in her capacity +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> +as the vicar’s wife she felt bound to receive +everybody, and so she rose with a smile to greet +her as she entered the room. But her ladyship +did not smile. Her face was very red with +suppressed indignation and the autumn air, and +as she sank into the best arm-chair she looked +as vindictive as her fat, jolly cheeks would allow +her to do. Mrs Measures perceived the difference +in her at once.</p> + +<p>‘Why, what is the matter?’ she exclaimed. +‘Has anything occurred to annoy you?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, Mrs Measures, something has occurred +to annoy me <em>very much indeed</em>, and it concerns +your <i lang="fr">protégée</i>, Mrs Hal Rushton. Why did +you not tell me, before you permitted me to +invite her as a guest to Tor Abbey, what sort of +a character she had borne whilst she was the +teacher of Deepdale school?’</p> + +<p>Now, Mrs Measures was very gentle, but she +was not servile. She was meek as a mouse +with her friends, but she could fight like a lion +for them, and all the lion that was in her was +roused upon this occasion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span></p> + +<p>‘In the first place, Lady Bristowe,’ she replied +in a dignified manner, as she resumed her seat, +‘you never consulted me before asking Paula +to dine with you, and if you had, I should +have told you that, since she is my friend, your +doubts were as insulting to me as to her.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, but you can’t deny having heard it, Mrs +Measures, because I understand that the official +inquiries into her behaviour took place in your +presence, and in this very house, and that the +young woman was turned out of her situation, +in consequence.’</p> + +<p>‘That is not true,’ said the vicar’s wife. ‘Miss +Stafford (as she was then) resigned her appointment +herself, and left Deepdale the following +day.’</p> + +<p>‘Her name was <em>not</em> Miss Stafford. That +is another subterfuge. Her mother’s name +was Sutton, and I suspect there must have +been some very good reason for changing her +name.’</p> + +<p>‘I consider your suspicion both unjust and +uncharitable, Lady Bristowe.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span></p> + +<p>‘I don’t see it. People don’t change their +names, as a rule, unless they have done something +to be ashamed of. And then this scandal +about her being locked up in the schoolhouse +with some strange man. Why, it is terrible! +I wonder she ever had the face to show herself +in Deepdale again.’</p> + +<p>‘The very fact of her doing so ought to convince +your ladyship that she has nothing to be +ashamed of. But <em>who</em> has been repeating this +scandal to you, Lady Bristowe? A few weeks +ago you could not speak highly enough of Mrs +Rushton, and now you seem to have turned +entirely against her. As her friend, I must ask +the reason.’</p> + +<p>‘That is not far to search, Mrs Measures. I +called on Mrs Hal Rushton at your request—’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, excuse me. You heard her name first +from my lips, perhaps, but I never urged you +to make her acquaintance. On the contrary, it +was your own proposal to take your carriage +to Haltham to meet the young people on +their return from their wedding tour, and I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> +demurred at the idea at first for fear lest they +should feel less at home in the presence of a +stranger.’</p> + +<p>‘But you never mentioned a word about this +business or I certainly should not have gone.’</p> + +<p>‘I did not consider you had any right to +hear it. It was past and over, and Paula was +coming as a guest to my house—as an <em>honoured</em> +guest, Lady Bristowe, as she always will be to +me. I believe in her, and I believe in her +right to keep her own counsel where she chooses +to do so.’</p> + +<p>‘That may be all very well for <em>you</em>, Mrs +Measures,’ replied her ladyship rather insolently. +‘Of course, as a clergyman’s wife, you have to +receive all sorts of people—good, bad, and indifferent—but +<em>I</em> hold too high a position, as +the mistress of Tor Abbey, to be able to do +as I choose in such matters. And I repeat +that it was not a friendly action on your part +to permit me to extend my patronage to people +who are not worthy of it.’</p> + +<p>‘The Rushtons are far above your patronage, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> +Lady Bristowe. They neither need nor desire +it. I am not sure that even your acquaintanceship +has given them any pleasure.’</p> + +<p>‘And you refuse, then, to let me hear what +you know about this scandal?’</p> + +<p>‘Utterly. It is no business of yours or mine. +And if it were, you would hear nothing about +it from me. Paula is my friend—more than my +friend—I love her dearly, and I am not in the +habit of discussing the doings nor the characters +of my friends.’</p> + +<p>‘You are obstinately determined to shield her,’ +replied Lady Bristowe angrily, ‘but under the +circumstances I feel I have a right to demand +the truth, and I shall appeal to Mr Measures +for it.’</p> + +<p>‘Here <em>is</em> Mr Measures,’ exclaimed her hostess, +rapping at the window pane to attract the attention +of her husband in the garden; ‘but question him +as you may, you will get no other answer from +him than you have from me.’</p> + +<p>The vicar obeyed the summons, and entered the +drawing-room, with a spud in his hand and a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> +considerable amount of garden earth upon his +boots.</p> + +<p>‘You will excuse my attire, I hope, Lady +Bristowe,’ he began. ‘I saw your horses some +time ago, but was too diffident to appear before +you till summoned. But this is a busy time +for gardeners. I suppose you have a fine show of +dahlias coming on at the Abbey?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, Mr Measures. The gardener tells me we +shall have some splendid blooms this autumn. +But I want to speak to you upon quite another +matter. You will be sorry to hear that I and +your wife have fallen out terribly this afternoon.’</p> + +<p>‘You and Mary!’ exclaimed the vicar, with +surprise, ‘surely not. What could you find to +quarrel about?’</p> + +<p>‘Lady Bristowe has appealed to me,’ said Mrs +Measures, with a slightly heightened colour, +‘for the details of the story that Mr Gribble +set about concerning Paula before her marriage, +and I have refused to discuss the matter with +her. It is a thing of the past, and best forgotten, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> +and Paula is our friend, so I decline to talk of +her behind her back.’</p> + +<p>‘Quite right, quite right,’ replied the vicar; +‘it was an unfortunate business, but it is over, +and, for all our sakes, the less said about it +the better.’</p> + +<p>‘But I am not satisfied with so lame an explanation, +Mr Measures,’ said Lady Bristowe; +‘you seem to forget that I have stooped to +notice this young person (whom I believed to +be worthy of it).’</p> + +<p>‘And so she is,’ cried the vicar’s wife +indignantly.</p> + +<p>‘Pray, Mrs Measures, let me finish what I was +about to say to your husband. I have asked her +to my house, and visited her in return, and should +have continued to do so (although she has behaved +most ungratefully lately in refusing to admit me +to her presence), but I have heard some discreditable +stories concerning her behaviour whilst she +was the schoolmistress of Deepdale, and came +to your wife for a confirmation or a denial of +them. She refuses to give me either.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span></p> + +<p>‘You set her a hard task,’ replied the vicar, +smiling affectionately at his wife.</p> + +<p>‘But, Edward, <em>you</em> can satisfy Lady Bristowe +on this point,’ said Mrs Measures anxiously; ‘<em>you</em> +can tell her that Paula would not have remained +on friendly terms at the vicarage if there had +been the slightest doubt of the purity of her +motives or her character.’</p> + +<p>‘My dear Mary, you know I never interfere +with your friendships. I have too much faith +in your good sense,’ said the vicar evasively.</p> + +<p>‘But you do not deny the truth of the +reports, sir, all the same,’ remarked Lady +Bristowe.</p> + +<p>‘The reports, as your ladyship calls them, +were never verified. Miss Stafford preferred +to resign her appointment to satisfying the +curiosity of the parish guardians. Whether she +was right or wrong signifies little now. She +is no longer Miss Stafford, and I daresay she +has almost forgotten that she was ever the +village school teacher.’</p> + +<p>‘She was always far above it in every way,’ exclaimed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> +Mrs Measures. ‘She is a lady by birth +and education, and only accepted such a subordinate +position in order not to be a burden +on her mother, and I honoured her for it, and +I upheld her in her decision. <em>Why</em> should she +have pandered to the vulgar curiosity of people +far beneath her in station when she knew she +was in the right?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, it is very easy to <em>say</em> we are in the +right,’ remarked Lady Bristowe, ‘but when our +characters are called into question, Mrs Measures, +I consider it is a duty we owe to ourselves +and our friends to clear them as far as lies in +our power.’</p> + +<p>‘Friends—<em>real</em> friends—don’t require any such +assurance,’ said Mrs Measures warmly. ‘And as +for characters, whose character has <em>not</em> been +assailed in some form or other? Has not yours, +Lady Bristowe?’</p> + +<p>Lady Bristowe rose from her seat with +a crimson face, and shook out her silken +skirts.</p> + +<p>‘Mrs Measures,’ she said loftily, ‘be kind +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> +enough to see me to my carriage. I wish to +go home.’</p> + +<p>‘I hope your ladyship does not imagine—’</p> + +<p>‘I wish to go home,’ repeated Lady Bristowe +distinctly; ‘and I wash my hands of Mrs Hal +Rushton and all her antecedents from this day +and for ever.’</p> + +<p>And so saying she sailed out of the vicarage +drawing-room and drove off in solemn dudgeon.</p> + +<p>‘Mary, my dear,’ said Mr Measures, as he +re-entered his wife’s presence, ‘you shouldn’t +have said that. I am afraid you have mortally +offended her ladyship. What made you do +it? I never heard you say such an ill-natured +thing before.’</p> + +<p>‘I said it because I despise her for turning +against Paula, when she has tested what a sweet, +dear girl she is, just because someone has +raked up this detestable scandal. Why couldn’t +she be satisfied with my assurance that there +is no truth in it? And you disappointed me +too, Edward. Why couldn’t you have told the +old lady that it was a pack of falsehoods, instead +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> +of beating about the bush as you did, +and making her suspicions stronger instead of +weaker?’</p> + +<p>The vicar looked distressed, and sat down on +the sofa beside his wife.</p> + +<p>‘Mary, my dear,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to +upset you, but I can’t say what I do not believe +to be true. I passed over a great deal at that +time, for your sake, and because I believed Miss +Stafford would leave Deepdale for ever. When +she came back to us in such an altered position, +and you seemed anxious to receive her at the +vicarage, I made no objection, because I love +to please you, and I would rather err on the +side of leniency. I like the girl, too, and wish +anything that was ever said against her to be +forgotten. But I <em>cannot</em> overlook the fact that +she refused to give any satisfactory explanation +of the matter, and if you wish me to say +otherwise, you must keep me out of all discussions +of the subject.’</p> + +<p>‘Which means that you believe the worst you +can of her. Edward, I didn’t think it of you. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> +I have always quoted you as the most Christian +man I know,’ replied his wife.</p> + +<p>‘I hope I take a Christian view of the matter, +Mary, but I <em>cannot</em> believe against my senses. +I told you at the time, and I repeat it now, +an innocent woman would have disclosed <em>everything</em> +sooner than have a slur cast upon her +character. Where there is concealment there is +usually something wrong. It may lie with others, +still it is wrong, and the guiltless has to bear +the brunt of it. Tell me the truth, now. As +matters stand, however much you may regard +Paula Rushton, aye, and believe in her from your +own consciousness, would you like to hear me +<em>swear</em> that there is nothing in her antecedents +that she wishes to conceal?’</p> + +<p>‘<em>Swear</em>,’ repeated Mrs Measures in a startled +voice. ‘I have never heard you swear, Edward, +and I shouldn’t like you to do it for anybody.’</p> + +<p>‘But, my dear, a man’s word should be as +sacred as his oath. The simple truth with regard +to your young friend is, that I know nothing +for certain, and therefore I can say nothing.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well, she has lost <em>one</em> friend through that +detestable Mr Gribble, and she may lose others,’ +exclaimed Mary Measures resolutely, ‘but she +shall never lose <em>me</em>, not if I have to stand beside +her in a felon’s dock.’</p> + +<p>‘And I consider that one of the best things in +her favour is her capability of attracting and +holding such a friend as you are, Mary. Don’t +fret about her losing Lady Bristowe. After all, +she is but a foolish, arrogant, and purse-proud +woman, and I feel sure that Hal Rushton will +not regret the loss of her acquaintance, whatever +his wife may do.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I don’t think Paula cares two straws +about her, only she is so prostrate at this moment +that any revival of the old scandal would be +sure to distress and make her worse. Edward, +you never saw anyone so despondent. I believe, +if it were not for her husband, she would do +something rash. She sits half the day silent, +with her hands idly folded in her lap, and if you +get her to mention her loss, she reproaches herself +so bitterly that you would think she had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> +had something to do with it. If she had <em>killed</em> +her mother she could hardly feel more remorse. +And her condition is having such an effect upon +her poor husband. What am I to do with them +both?’</p> + +<p>‘Why doesn’t Hal Rushton take her away?’</p> + +<p>‘She won’t go. She seems always to be on +the point of receiving some news, as if she +expected her mother might return and not find +her there. Sometimes I really think her grief +has affected her mind.’</p> + +<p>‘Poor girl! It is very sad, and occurring so +soon after her marriage. I heard a rumour to-day +that old Mrs Rushton has been re-admitted +to the Hall. Is that true?’</p> + +<p>‘She goes up there daily to superintend +the housekeeping, of which Paula is quite incapable +at present. And the old woman appears +to be on her best behaviour. I wonder +if she has any hope of being reinstated at +the Hall?’</p> + +<p>‘It wouldn’t be a bad plan, if she saves your +friend the drudgery of housekeeping. But what +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> +would Hal say to it? He has such a holy +terror of his stepmother and her son.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, that dreadful Ted Snaley. I don’t +think Paula could stand him in the house, +however useful his mother might be. But +when she is well again—’</p> + +<p>‘Mary, my dear,’ said the vicar anxiously, as +he put his hand under her chin and turned her +face up to view, ‘are you crying?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Edward, sometimes I fear Paula may +never get well again, and then to hear people +so ill-natured about her!’</p> + +<p>‘There, there, dear, don’t anticipate evil. +Her present condition, after such a shock as +she has received, is only natural. Pray for +her Mary, and pray with her, and all will be +right again. You are her most valiant partisan +on earth. Try some of your persuasive powers +with Heaven. And if you think it would do +Paula any good to come and stay at the vicarage, +where you could be always with her, bring +them both over here, and that will be the best +proof Lady Bristowe could have that if I cannot +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> +swear that black is white, I am at least +content to believe that my neighbours are as +good as I am myself.’</p> + +<p>‘They are <em>not</em>—they are <em>not</em>,’ replied his wife +enthusiastically. ‘You are the best and the most +righteous man I ever knew, Edward, and I +would rather be a sinner at your mercy than +sit in the highest seat of the world’s favour.’</p> + +<p>‘But you’re a silly woman, and know nothing,’ +said her husband, as he kissed her.</p> + + + + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX"> + CHAPTER IX.<br> + <span>NEW PROSPECTS.</span> + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="no-indent"><span class="smcap">The</span> little world of Deepdale was really shocked +when Paula appeared amongst them again, so +changed was she from the bright, happy bride +that Hal Rushton had brought home to Highbridge +Hall, and even from the pensive, girlish +school teacher who had only seemed to drag +her weary life away. Her clear complexion +had turned to sodden white, her eyes were dull +and languid, her form seemed shrunk beneath +her clinging black garments. Even Lady Bristowe, +encountering her grave salutation one day, +as the little pony carriage passed her ladyship’s +cumbersome chariot, turned round with horrified +amazement to Sarah Brennan and said,—</p> + +<p>‘Is that <em>really</em> Mrs Hal Rushton? If she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> +hadn’t bowed to me, I don’t believe I should +ever have known her again. I never saw anybody +so changed in all my life.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, my lady, she is terribly white and +thin. I am sure that anybody, to look at her, +would say she’d got something on her mind. +Quite the ghost of her former self. And her +mother-in-law says she’s so weak she can hardly +get up and down stairs without assistance.’</p> + +<p>‘<em>Her mother-in-law!</em>’ repeated Lady Bristowe; +‘you don’t mean to tell me, Sarah Brennan, +that you have any acquaintanceship with that +low person the Widow Rushton?’</p> + +<p>Miss Brennan coughed dubiously.</p> + +<p>‘I have met her once or twice, my lady, when +I have been out walking. It’s not always possible +to avoid it, you see, nor to help passing +a few words when you are spoken to.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I beg you <em>will</em> avoid it for the future, +Sarah Brennan, or you will leave my service,’ +rejoined Lady Bristowe. ‘I will not have a +person who is constantly in my company +associate with people of that class. You had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> +better go down into the servants’ hall at +once.’</p> + +<p>‘But I hear that Mrs Rushton is always +with her daughter-in-law Mrs Hal,’ said Miss +Brennan. ‘She’s head housekeeper and nurse +and everything at Highbridge Hall now.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s nothing to me. Mrs Hal Rushton +can do as she likes. My orders to you are +imperative.’</p> + +<p>‘Of course, my lady. But I thought as +young Mrs Rushton is such a favourite at the +Abbey—’</p> + +<p>‘She is <em>not</em> a favourite there any longer. I +don’t wish to hear you even mention her +name. I consider that she entered my house +under false pretences, and her visit will never +be repeated. And I desire that <em>you</em> drop all +intimacy with the family also. Do you understand +me, Sarah Brennan?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, my lady, perfectly,’ returned the +companion, who was only too pleased to think +that her rival was out of favour.</p> + +<p>It was true that Lady Bristowe’s visit to the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span> +vicarage had decided her to have no more to +do with Paula Rushton. Mrs Measures’ warm +advocacy had had no effect against the vicar’s +half-hearted condemnation, and Lady Bristowe +was not a great enough nor a noble enough +woman to cling to anyone against the opinion +of the majority. So she thought it more prudent +to go with the stream, and discontinue her +visits to Highbridge Hall.</p> + +<p>Paula scarcely noticed her defalcation, and if +she did it was to rejoice that the nuisance of +refusing to see her had ceased. Although she +looked so thin and pale, her health was certainly +improved, and her mental equilibrium was restored. +Some months had passed now since her +mother’s death, and she could speak of her loss +with calmness and a certain degree of hope. +Her kind friend Mary Measures had gently +approached the subject with her, and dwelt +so much on the happy side of it—on the +thought of her mother at rest from the cares +which had worried her in this life, and reunited +to the husband she had loved so much and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> +mourned so deeply—that Paula had been able +at last to ease her labouring mind by telling +of her mother’s virtues and affection for herself, +and repeating many a little anecdote of her +goodness and patience and long-suffering. So +far her grief was somewhat mitigated, and had +her cause for trouble ended here it would (like +all such bereavements) have had its bitterness +assuaged by time. But there was that other +unnatural grief to fight against—the grief she +dared not speak of, and which ate into her +very soul—the mysterious loss of Paulie. Mrs +Measures wondered why the girl continued so +hopelessly despairing. It was so unlike the +usual effect of trouble on a gentle and unexcitable +nature like hers. She consulted her own +husband and Paula’s husband on the subject, +but neither of them could suggest a solution. +At last she thought she had solved the mystery. +As Christmas approached Paula confided to her +that she was about to become a mother. That +fact seemed to explain everything. Physical +weakness had prevented the poor girl getting +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> +the better of her mental despondency. And +now, thought Mrs Measures, everything must +be right. Paula would have a grand vehicle of +distraction. Mary Measures had never been a +mother herself, to her great disappointment, but +like many childless women she took a vivid +interest in little babies and all that pertained to +them. She kissed Paula a dozen times when +the news was made known to her, and told +her that God was mercifully sending this great +blessing in order to compensate her for her +loss.</p> + +<p>‘You will have your hands full now, dear,’ +she exclaimed, ‘and no time to give to unavailing +regret. You must begin to fight against it +from this very moment, Paula, for the sake of +the dear baby that is coming. You would not +like to harm it, I am sure. Suppose it were +born weakly, or crippled, or with any other +affliction because of your want of self-control—’</p> + +<p>‘No, no, not <em>that</em>. Don’t speak of that,’ said +Paula feverishly.</p> + +<p>She was lying on the sofa at the time, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span> +Mary Measures, who sat beside her, was +alarmed to see how she became crimson and +livid by turn.</p> + +<p>‘My dear, don’t imagine I suppose it for a +moment—why, Paula, what chance is there of +such a thing?—only, I have always heard that +expectant mothers should be careful above all +else to keep their minds at rest. Oh, Paula, +dear, don’t look like that. You will make me +so sorry that I spoke. Think only, dear, of the +great joy that is coming to you.’</p> + +<p>‘It is not certain it will be a joy,’ replied +Paula sadly; ‘sometimes children are sent to be +a curse instead of a blessing.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, surely not. Think of having a dear baby +of your own to love and cherish, and to bring +up to be a comfort to you.’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t <em>want</em> to think of it,’ said Paula +fretfully. ‘I am not even sure that I want <em>it</em>. +Children are certain cares and very uncertain +blessings.’</p> + +<p>Mrs Measures did not know what to make +of her friend’s state of mind. A young woman +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span> +married to the man she loved, and expecting her +first baby, to speak of it in such a melancholy +and disparaging manner was an anomaly to her, +and made her think how differently <em>she</em> would +have felt under similar circumstances. As she +was leaving the Hall that day she met Mrs +Rushton, senior, walking about the drive and +picking off the blackened leaves which had been +killed by the first frost. The vicar’s wife disliked +the widow exceedingly, and could not +understand Paula delegating the whole of her +household duties to her hands. Still, as she was +there, and evidently a comfort or assistance to +her friend, she saluted her courteously.</p> + +<p>‘I ’ope you find Mrs ’Al better and more +resigned like to-day, ma’am?’ said Mrs Rushton.</p> + +<p>‘I think she is better, but there is still great +room for improvement,’ replied Mrs Measures. +‘It is a bad sign, I am afraid, her showing such +indifference about her condition.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes; quite unnateral, ain’t it. However, I’ve +sick and monthlied for thirty years and seen +many sich. It hall depends upon their ’ealth. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span> +Mrs ’Al ain’t strong, and sees heverythink in a +gloomy light. She’ll be well enough by-and-by, +though I don’t think she ’as a strong constitootion, +and will take a lot of care and +attention.’</p> + +<p>‘Are you going to nurse her in her confinement?’ +inquired Mrs Measures, rather anxiously.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, lor’, ma’am, I ’opes not. I’ve done a +deal of nussing in my time, and I wants a little +rest. I ain’t as young as I was—fifty-eight on +my last birthday—and I’m not strong enough +for racket. I’ve recommended Mrs ’Al a hexcellent +nuss, Mrs Cornes of ’Altham, a good, honest, +sober, kind-hearted creature as will do ’er and +the baby justice in hevery way. I shouldn’t care +for the job myself at all, ma’am.’</p> + +<p>‘I only thought,’ said the vicar’s wife, ‘that +as you seem so friendly—’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, we’re friendly enough,’ interrupted Mrs +Rushton. ‘Mrs ’Al, she ’ave turned me and my +boy out of the ’All as you may say, but I don’t +bear ’er no malice. And when I see ’er so +unnaterally cast down by ’er ma’s death, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> +giving way so terrible, I thought it only right +for Al’s sake to offer to ’elp ’er. I can’t forget +as ’Al is my poor dear ’usband’s son, nor that +’e asked me with ’is last breath for to look +arter ’im and ’is in every way.’</p> + +<p>‘Really,’ said Mary Measures to her husband, +some hours later, ‘I begin to blame myself for +having thought and spoken so harshly of old +Mrs Rushton. Of course she is an ignorant and +low-born woman (she can’t help that), but +I think there’s a lot of good in her. She speaks +so kindly now of Hal and Paula. She seems +quite to have forgotten her old grudge against +her stepson’s marriage.’</p> + +<p>‘All my wife’s geese are swans,’ replied the +vicar affectionately.</p> + +<p>‘You don’t believe in her having turned over +a new leaf then, Edward?’</p> + +<p>‘I haven’t observed it yet, my dear. I think +the woman is a detestable hypocrite, and I +would not trust her further than I could see +her. I shall never forget her conduct at Farmer +Rushton’s death. If she had had her way then, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> +Hal would have been left a dependant on her +bounty.’</p> + +<p>‘Then isn’t it all the more to her credit that +she has forgiven you for outwitting her, and +Hal for benefiting by your sense of justice?’</p> + +<p>‘It would be—if she <em>had</em>. But I don’t believe +she has forgiven either Hal or me.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you think she is playing a part, then?’</p> + +<p>‘I shouldn’t like to express an opinion on +the subject. But I should be very wary of the +old woman myself.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Edward, you make me feel so miserable. +Is nothing in this world what it seems?’</p> + +<p>‘Very little, Mary, very little,’ was the vicar’s +reply.</p> + +<p>In this instance Mr Measures was decidedly +right. Mrs Rushton played her cards so +well that for a while Hal and Paula were completely +taken in by her. She fully intended +to nurse Paula herself, but she knew her stepson +so much disliked her presence that the +very mention of such a thing would rouse his +opposition. So she pretended that she would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> +not undertake it upon any account, and highly +recommended the services of Mrs Cornes, who +had nursed Lady Warden with her son and +heir, and bore the highest testimonials from her +ladyship. Under ordinary circumstances Hal +Rushton would not have cared <em>who</em> nursed +his wife through her expected trial, but as it +was his deepest fears were excited by her +condition. He could not feel any pride or +pleasure in the anticipation of the birth of his +child, so fully was his mind occupied by +Paula’s extreme weakness of body and depression +of mind. He was ready to cavil at +the capabilities, even, of Mrs Cornes, until he +had seen the very flattering letter of recommendation +with which the Countess of Warden +had sent her on her way. And then he told +his wife to write and engage her at any cost, +to keep the month of June open, in order that +she might spend it at Highbridge Hall. But +Paula was indolent and apathetic as usual, and +Mrs Rushton offered to step into the breach +and interview Mrs Cornes on her account.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span></p> + +<p>‘Don’t you worrit yourself about it, my dear,’ +she said. ‘No one expects ladies in your sitivation +to go running after their nusses. You’ve +seen ’ow ’igh ’er recommendations is, and I’ll +go into ’Altham for you and settle with ’er +about the time and so forth. Or, you can write +’er a letter, and I’ll bring you the hanswer. I +must go into ’Altham after some more cambric +and flannel or we sha’n’t never be ready in +time.’</p> + +<p>‘But it will be such a trouble to you, Mrs +Rushton,’ replied Paula languidly.</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, no, my dear. Not if ’Al will let Ted +’ave the tax-cart or the shay to drive me into +’Altham. You can’t be expected to know what’s +necessary, as I do—<em>you</em>, who ’ave never ’ad a +baby to ’andle before.’</p> + +<p>At this Paula coloured slightly and turned +uneasily away, and the widow noted both +actions.</p> + +<p>‘Mother,’ said Ted Snaley, as he drove her into +Haltham the following day, ‘are you a-going +to let Mrs Cornes nuss Mrs ’Al?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span></p> + +<p>‘Not if I can ’elp it, Ted. It’s all chance, +though, and I don’t see my way clearly yet; +but if it’s a boy, it’ll ruin your prospects of +getting hany of the property as was left to you +and me by my ’usband, and we was defrauded +out of it. And if it’s heither boy or gal, and +lives and thrives, there won’t be no ’ope for us, +for if we found out Mrs ’Al’s secret to-morrow +(and that she <em>’as</em> a secret I’d lay my right ’and) +and ’e turned ’er out of the ’ouse, why there’d +be the child for ’im to live and work for, and +we might go to the wall. No, Ted, if this ’ere +child lives, we’d better give hup the game +haltogether.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, then, it <em>mustn’t</em> live. Nothing heasier.’</p> + +<p>‘’Ush, ’ush, my boy; don’t ’oller like that. ’Ow +can you tell ’oo’s be’ind the ’edge? If you +must speak of it, speak as soft as you can.’</p> + +<p>With this the widow turned her head round +and whispered in his ear.</p> + +<p>‘It <em>won’t</em> live,’ she said, ‘it’ll be too weakly.’</p> + +<p>‘But if Mrs Cornes gets ’old of it, mother, +’ow then?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span></p> + +<p>‘She sha’n’t get ’old of it, then, Ted, not if +<em>I</em> knows it.’</p> + +<p>‘’Ow will you manage it?’</p> + +<p>‘Give ’er a wrong date. Nothing heasier +than to make a mistake of that sort. I shall +tell ’er to keep ’erself ready for the hend of +June, and we shall ’ave it ’ere by the first, +when she’ll be busy with someone helse. Then +they’ll be all in an ’urry and flummux, and +glad of me or hanybody to take ’er place.’</p> + +<p>‘’Urra, mother, you’ve ’it it,’ cried Mr Snaley. +‘And what about <em>her</em>?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, we mustn’t think of nothink more, Ted. +We’ve said too much about it already. But +Mrs ’Al ain’t in a good state of health, to my +mind, and I should feel very nervous about ’er, +if she was hanything to me. I’ve seen many +a poor creature go off at sich times as ’ad +double ’er strength.’</p> + +<p>Mrs Rushton found Mrs Cornes at home, and +had soon put her into the possession of the fact +that her services would be required at Highbridge +Hall about the end of June.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span></p> + +<p>‘The hend of June,’ said that worthy, as she +examined a much bescribbled almanac of the +current year; ‘what day should you take it +to be doo, now? Before the twentieth, say, or +hafter?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, lor’, Mrs Cornes, ma’am, it’s quite himpossible +to fix it for certain. You know what +these young creetures with their first hare—with +no more hidea of the when nor the wherefore +than the babies themselves. But <em>h’I</em> should say +<em>hafter</em> the twentieth, hif it was put to me.’</p> + +<p>‘I couldn’t take the case afore, ma’am. I’m +doo at Mrs Nelson’s, which I’ve nussed with six +a’ready, on heighteenth of May, and she generally +come to ’er day, and wouldn’t part with me hunder +the month for untold gold. So there it lay, you +see. On the heighteenth hor twentieth of June +I shall be free to take your lady if she go to ’er +time. But I had better see ’er about it myself. +When shall I find her at ’ome?’</p> + +<p>‘That I can’t say, Mrs Cornes, nor hif she’d see +you if you called. She’s ’ad a terrible loss in +her ma, poor thing, who died in her chair suddent-like, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span> +and it’s hupset her mind a bit, so that she’s +very queer in ’er ’ead at times and won’t see +a soul.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, my!’ exclaimed the nurse, with a shiver, +‘I don’t like them sort of cases at all. It’s to +be ’oped she won’t go hoff ’er ’ead when her time +comes. I’ve ’ad terrible work sometimes even +to keep ’em in bed. One of my ladies got up +at night, when we was hall asleep, and flung +’erself and ’er baby right out of the winder.’</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, how ’orrible. I ’opes there’ll be nothink +of the sort ’ere. But if you’ll write a line, ma’am, +for to say as you’ll hold yourself engaged to Mrs +’Al Rushton for June, I’ll take it back to ’er, hand +if she wants to see you before’and she can write +and let you know.’</p> + +<p>Upon which the nurse wrote a few words +as desired, which the widow took back to +Paula. But Hal was not satisfied with the +transaction.</p> + +<p>‘This is nonsense,’ he said. ‘I am not going +to let you engage a nurse without seeing her. +She might turn out to be some gin-drinking, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span> +snuffy old woman whom we couldn’t endure in +the house. You must write and tell her to come +over here, Paula.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Hal, not yet. It is not necessary +There is heaps of time. I do hate strangers so +I don’t want to see anybody.’</p> + +<p>‘Perhaps, my darling; but if you leave it till +too late you may not get a nurse at all. Only +see if you like this Mrs Cornes. If not, I will +send to London sooner than you should not be +properly attended to.’</p> + +<p>So Paula sent a note to Mrs Cornes, desiring +her to come over to Highbridge Hall, and confided +it to the care of her factotum, Mrs Rushton, who +brought back a message to the effect that Mrs +Cornes had been called out unexpectedly to +nurse a gentleman who had sustained a serious +accident, and it was impossible she could leave +him, but the first moment she was at liberty she +would come to Deepdale to see her employer, and +some weeks, she hoped, before her services would +be required. With which assurance Paula appeared +to be perfectly satisfied, as she lay back +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span> +on her sofa by the open window and watched +the blossoming of the coming summer.</p> + +<p>‘Have you never seen your nurse yet, +Paula?’ asked Mary Measures one evening, as +she sat beside her friend and watched the +somewhat tremulous and changeful expression +on her face.</p> + +<p>‘Not yet. She is too busily engaged, but +she is coming over to see me the beginning +of next month. I hear she is a very respectable +woman, and I feel quite satisfied about her.’</p> + +<p>‘Of course,’ answered the vicar’s wife cheerfully; +‘but I think she should be in the house +beforehand. Suppose you were taken ill in +the night? It is such a long way to drive +into Haltham.’</p> + +<p>‘Only seven miles,’ said Paula indifferently. +‘Hal’s little mare would do it under the +hour.’</p> + +<p>‘But that means another hour to come back +again, and allowing for probable delays and +Mrs Cornes’ preparations, perhaps three hours,’ +replied her friend anxiously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well, what of that? It will be all right. +And <em>you</em> would come to me at any time, +wouldn’t you, Mary?’</p> + +<p>‘You know I would, dear, but I should not +be of much use, and I can’t bear the idea of +your being left alone so long. I wonder it +doesn’t frighten you, Paula; but you seem +quite indifferent on the matter. One would +think, to hear you talk, that you had a nursery +full upstairs.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, it will be all right. It is no use worrying,’ +replied Paula listlessly, as she turned her +face round to the window.</p> + +<p>The starlings and blackbirds were hopping +about the newly mown lawn, picking up the +unfortunate worms and grubs. (How little one +ever thinks, by-the-bye, when contemplating +a peaceful scene of rural happiness, how many +innocent creatures that contribute to it are +feeling anything but peaceful or happy the +while.) The gardener was potting out the beds +of geraniums, verbenas and calceolarias, and +Lady Bristowe’s Blenheim puppy, now full +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span> +grown, was playing about with a noisy fox +terrier, and getting much the worst of the fun. +As Mrs Measures watched Paula gazing at +their frolics, with a smile, she suddenly saw +a deep flush rise to her forehead and fade +away again, leaving her ashy pale.</p> + +<p>‘Paula,’ she exclaimed quickly, ‘are you in +any pain? You don’t seem well to me.’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t feel quite the thing,’ replied the girl +languidly. ‘It is so warm and close, and I +get so tired of lying here.’</p> + +<p>‘Why don’t you go for a drive? It would +do you good this lovely evening. Cannot Mr +Rushton take you? Is he too busy?’</p> + +<p>‘<em>Too busy</em>,’ repeated Paula, with a faint +smile, ‘why, Mary, you don’t half know yet +what a darling my Hal is. No business, nor +pleasure, nor anything, would keep him from +waiting upon me, especially now. I am quite +ashamed sometimes to trouble him so much. +Oh, he is far too good, too kind. I am +thankful when he will take a little leisure for +himself.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span></p> + +<p>‘You are very happy with him, Paula.’</p> + +<p>‘As far as <em>he</em> is concerned,’ she answered +without thinking, ‘very—<em>very</em> happy. If I +die within the next month, Mary, I shall have +had more than my share of earthly happiness.’</p> + +<p>‘Why should you talk of dying, dear?’ said +Mrs Measures tenderly. ‘You mustn’t even think +of such a thing. You are as strong as most +women are at such a time.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you think so?’ replied Paula, with her +eyes raised to the sky. ‘But I have suffered so +much lately, you know, and—and it makes me +lose hope.’</p> + +<p>When Mary Measures left her she went in +search of Hal Rushton, and found him busy +over his stable accounts, and smoking a pipe, +which he laid down on her approach.</p> + +<p>‘Now, Mr Rushton, don’t do that,’ she said, +‘or I shall run away. I only came to speak +to you about Paula. I wish this Mrs Cornes +was in the house. I don’t think she is quite +well.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span></p> + +<p>Hal started from his seat, pipe and all else +forgotten.</p> + +<p>‘<em>Not well!</em>’ he echoed. ‘Do you mean—’</p> + +<p>‘No, no; don’t alarm yourself, and remember +I am very ignorant about such +matters. Still, if Mrs Cornes could be communicated +with, without alarming Paula, I +think it would be desirable to do so in case +of necessity.’</p> + +<p>‘But the woman is not at home. She is +nursing some man out in the country. And +there is no other nurse in Haltham. What +on earth can I do? We didn’t expect her +services would be required for the next three +weeks.’</p> + +<p>‘Mr Rushton, don’t think anything more +about it. <em>I</em> daresay I am all wrong. But Paula +looks feverish and uneasy. Will you go up to +her, and if I can be of any use, you know +where to find me.’</p> + +<p>‘Thank you, yes. I will go at once,’ and +he flew upstairs like a bird to the presence of +his wife.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span></p> + +<p>‘My darling, my own darling,’ he exclaimed +anxiously, as he bent over her couch, ‘what is +the matter? Are you not well?’</p> + +<p>‘Quite as well as usual,’ she said, twining her +arms round his neck, and drawing his face +down to her own. ‘What has that silly Mary +been saying to my love, to make him look so +frightened. I have a headache from the heat, +and I am tired, that is all—’</p> + +<p>And she kissed him fondly, almost passionately, +as she spoke.</p> + +<p>‘My own wife,’ he murmured, ‘what should I +do if you were taken ill without better help +than we could give you?’</p> + +<p>‘There is no fear of it,’ she answered stoutly, +though she knew in her heart that there was +every fear. But she lay there in the twilight, +with her husband’s face pressed against her own, +and did not let him guess a tittle of what she +was suffering. But a few hours later it was +impossible to disguise it. Hal rushed into the +vicarage as white as a sheet with fear, to entreat +Mrs Measures to come to his wife at once, as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span> +there was no doubt that her trial was near at +hand.</p> + +<p>‘What can I do?’ he exclaimed distractedly +as they walked back together to the Hall. ‘I +know it is of no use going for Mrs Cornes, +and Dr Addison is so young, I am half afraid +Paula will object to his attending her. Oh, +Mrs Measures, if anything should go wrong +with her.’</p> + +<p>‘My dear friend, there is no chance of that. +It is certainly very unfortunate, but we must do +the best we can. Old Mrs Rushton is an excellent +sick-nurse, and will doubtless attend to Paula +just as well as Mrs Cornes. Is she at the +Hall?’</p> + +<p>‘Not at present. She has betaken herself +home for the night. But can’t we manage without +her. Mrs Measures, I can’t tell you how I +distrust that woman. I hate to see her about +the house, and have only endured her presence +for Paula’s sake. But to instal her in the +sick-room, to see her handling my wife and +child, I don’t think I could stand it. I believe +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span> +I should tell her outright all that I think and +have thought of her from the commencement, +and make a regular breach between us for ever +more.’</p> + +<p>‘But, my dear Mr Rushton, that is very foolish. +I quite agree with you that she is odious, but +if she can contribute to your dear wife’s safety +or comfort at this crisis, you must put your +personal dislike for her into your pocket. It +is absolutely necessary that Paula should have +a competent nurse on this occasion, for her own +sake and that of the child.’</p> + +<p>‘Couldn’t <em>you</em> nurse her?’ asked Hal dubiously.</p> + +<p>‘No, my dear friend, I could not, for several +reasons. I am not strong enough for night +work, besides, I know nothing about children, +and I have my own house and husband to look +after. I will be with dear Paula as much as +possible during the day, but I cannot undertake +any more.’</p> + +<p>‘Louisa, then?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, nonsense. Louisa is only a girl. Such +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> +cases require an experienced woman. If you +really cannot get Mrs Cornes to come, you <em>must</em> +have Mrs Rushton.’</p> + +<p>But Hal still hesitated.</p> + +<p>‘As soon as I have taken you to my darling’s +side, Mrs Measures,’ he said, ‘I will drive as +hard as I can into Haltham, and see if it is +not possible to procure Mrs Cornes. And you +will not leave her, I am sure, until I am back +again.’</p> + +<p>‘Of course, I will not leave her,’ replied the +vicar’s wife.</p> + +<p>But when she saw Paula she refused to stay +at the Hall during Hal’s absence unless Mrs +Rushton stayed there also. She had seen +enough of such cases to know that a very +short time might make a great change in the +young wife’s condition, and she insisted upon +Hal’s going first to Wavertree Cottage and +summoning his stepmother. By this time she +did not find him so hard to persuade. He was +frightened to death by the sight of Paula’s +white face and the sound of her stifled moans, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span> +and rushed like a lamplighter to the widow’s +cottage, where he disturbed her frugal supper +by his news.</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, you don’t never mean to say so, ’Al,’ she +cried, as she drew the back of her hand across +her mouth. ‘Poor dear! Took already! She +must ’ave tripped, or summat. I’ll go hup, in +course, and do my best for ’er, but I do ’ope as +you’ll catch Mrs Cornes, for I ain’t strong +enough to sit up at nights.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, yes, I am going to drive into Haltham +at once for her, Mrs Rushton. But will you +come back with me to the Hall now? I shall +not feel easy unless I leave you there. Mrs +Measures is with her, but she has had no +experience.’</p> + +<p>‘<em>Mrs Measures</em>,’ repeated the widow, with ineffable +scorn. ‘Much <em>she</em> must know about sich +things. I’ll walk back with you, ’Al, if you wish +it. I ain’t finished my supper, but I daresay as I +can get a bit and a sup up at the ’All. Ted, my +lad, reach me down my shawl and bonnet hoff +that ’ook, and don’t go to bed yet awhiles, has +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span> +I’ll be a-coming back again if Mrs Cornes +takes her proper place to-night.’</p> + +<p>‘And what about Dr Addison?’ inquired Hal +fearfully. ‘Should I send for him also?’</p> + +<p>‘Lor’, ’Al, no. There’ll be no need to +trouble ’im, I shouldn’t think, before the morning. +But I’ll be the best judge of that, and +Ted here can fetch ’im at any time. And when +I comes to think of it, my lad, you’d better +come hup to the ’All as well, and then you’ll +be ready in case of need.’</p> + +<p>And so Hal Rushton, too anxious now about +his wife to care about any secondary consideration, +had to walk back to his house +between the unsavoury couple. When he arrived +there he found his mare and dog-cart ready +for him, and started with all speed for Haltham. +His errand was eminently unsatisfactory. +The proprietors of the house where Mrs Cornes +lodged did not even know her present address, +nor had any idea when she was expected to +return. She made her own engagements, they +said, and came and went as she thought proper, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span> +and they never troubled her with any questions. +Neither could they tell him of any other nurse +to be procured in Haltham. So, sick at heart +and wild with anxiety, Hal Rushton turned the +mare’s head towards Deepdale, and took her +home as fast as she could lay her feet to the +ground, in order to find out what had happened +during his absence.</p> + + +<p class="center mt3 small">END OF VOL. II.</p> + + +<p class="center mt3 small">COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes"> + Transcriber’s Notes + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="transnote">Apparent typographical errors in spelling +and punctuation have been silently corrected. + +Spellings representing dialect have been retained.</p> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78596 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78596-h/images/cover.jpg b/78596-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1620499 --- /dev/null +++ b/78596-h/images/cover.jpg |
