A CUT DIRECT.
IT is now eighteen months since Frank Maynard's marriage, and
has been a very quiet happy time to him. Not many incidents have
occurred; the most important by far having been the birth of a son
about a month back. Katie is of course very proud of it, and is a
little disappointed that her husband does not consider it the finest
boy in the world. Frank, however, pleads that he has no doubt that
if she says so she is correct, but that for his part he can really
see no difference between one baby and another—they are all queer
little animals, till they begin to look about and know people. Frank
has entered at the bar, and is reading to a greater extent than
either he or Prescott, who had advised the step, had expected. But,
indeed, Frank had found that he was only in Katie's way staying at
home all day, and that the long days with nothing to do really hung
heavy upon his hands. Complaining of this to Prescott, the latter had
renewed his former suggestion, that his friend should enter at the
bar, and Frank had willingly accepted the idea, and had established
himself in a room adjoining his friend's. Unfortunately it had
happened that Prescott had been away on circuit at the time of the
Maynards' return from their wedding-tour, and Frank had not therefore
had the benefit of his advice as to the best course of action to be
pursued in reference to Captain Bradshaw's extraordinary conduct.
Upon Prescott's hearing of this, he had been as much puzzled as Frank
himself. He, like Katie, had at first suspected that Fred Bingham
must have had some hand in it; but Frank pointed out that he had seen
his uncle only the day before he had gone down into Staffordshire to
be married, and that he was then friendly enough. Fred Bingham was
then out of town, and had not returned from his wedding-tour until
after Captain Bradshaw's letter would have been written, he could
therefore in no way have influenced his uncle's proceedings. This
was so evident, that Prescott had abandoned his idea, and had been
obliged to fall back upon Frank's notion that the old man's head must
have turned a little at the failure of his favourite plan. He said,
that had he been in town, he should have advised Frank, upon the
receipt of his uncle's unaccountable letter, to have called upon him
in person. He could not, however, but acknowledge that the fact of
Captain Bradshaw's returning the letter unopened, was evident proof
that he would not have seen his nephew, and that even had he done
so, a quarrel might have taken place, which would have rendered any
future reconciliation impossible. To Prescott, as well as to Frank,
this breach in the friendly relations was a trial. Prescott had never
even hoped to win Alice Heathcote as long as Frank had remained
unmarried, but he had a faint hope that after Frank's marriage he
might some day succeed in gaining her love. Now this hope was lost;
for, unless this inexplicable quarrel was made up, Prescott felt that
he as Frank's friend could no longer visit at Lowndes Square. Both
had hoped that Captain Bradshaw would return in an altered state of
mind from his long tour. He had now, however, been back in England
nearly a month, and Frank had received no communication from him.
This hope then was lost, for it was evident that the old man was as
determined as ever that the estrangement should be final. During
these eighteen months the cousins had seen but little of each other.
Their respective wives had called upon each other, and each had dined
at the other's home; but Fred was a good deal away from town, and
Mrs. Frank, having in no way altered her first conceived opinion of
him, the intercourse between Thurloe Square and Harley Street was not
of a very cordial nature.
Captain Bradshaw had returned very little altered by his long ramble
abroad. He was as hearty and as cheery as of old, before his dearest
wishes about his ward's marriage had been thwarted. His journey had
altogether done him good. It had been a complete change of life to
him, and he had greatly enjoyed it. Of course he had grumbled, and
had sworn terribly at Italians, Egyptians, Arabs, and many other
people; but he had enjoyed it, and had confessed as much to Alice. At
the same time he was very glad to be back again in Lowndes Square,
and to go off as of old to his club. For Alice's sake, too, he had
determined to go out more into society. They had made a great many
friends and acquaintances abroad, and the Captain inaugurated his
return by a series of dinner-parties. Alice, too, had benefited
greatly by the change of scene. She was essentially a girl of a
healthy organization, and had resolutely exerted herself to shake
off the depression which had weighed upon her when she started.
The constant change of scene and the desire to amuse her uncle had
aided her efforts, and in a few months from the time of her leaving
England, the tone of her mind was completely restored. Very much
was Alice Heathcote admired in the English circle at Rome. She was
very quiet, very unaffected, and somewhat stately. Several of her
countrymen had tried their best to win the prize of the season, but
Alice gave no encouragement to any of them, and went away quite
heartwhole in the Spring with her uncle. Another year's wandering had
quite completed her cure, and she could now think sadly, but without
deep pain, of the forfeiture by Frank Maynard of her esteem as well
as of her love.
For now that she could think calmly over it, she could not but allow
that there was no doubt of his unworthiness.
Once only in the month which had passed since their return to London
had she seen him; for Frank had from the first gradually dropped the
acquaintance of those few friends at whose houses he would be likely
to meet his uncle on his return.
Alice was walking down Knightsbridge with her uncle, when they came
upon a tall gentleman with a lady on his arm. Alice and her uncle
recognised them at the same moment, and each could feel the other
start slightly. Alice grew very pale, but looked straight forward, as
did her uncle. Frank coloured with indignation, but he, too, gave no
sign of recognition. Katie felt her husband draw himself up stiffly,
and looked up in his face. Then she glanced at the passers. Their
faces, as well as her husband's, told her who they were.
“Is that your uncle, Frank?”
“Yes, Katie,” Frank said. “Those are my uncle and Alice Heathcote. Is
it not too bad, Katie? He must be as much out of his mind as ever.
And I suppose Alice dared not notice me.”
“I don't quite think that she wished to speak any more than he did,
Frank. She looked very cold and proud. Never mind, dear. We can do
very well without them.”
“Very well, Katie, I don't absolutely care a bit, only the utter
injustice and absurdity of the thing make me angry. No, dear, I am
perfectly happy as I am.”
Katie was rather pleased, too, and comparing the stately Miss
Heathcote to herself, she said, “After all, I do think I can make
Frank happier than she would ever have done.” A thought when they
were alone she confided to her husband, who said he had never doubted
the fact for a moment.