finding herself in a room which was at once the most beautiful and the
most extraordinary which she had ever beheld. In every direction in
which she turned her eyes, they were greeted by some quaint treasure,
which had been brought from the ends of the earth to be stored against a
background of tapestry and carved oak panel. It was like stepping back
hundreds of years, and finding one's self in an old baronial castle; and
the occupant of the room was in keeping with his surroundings. He lay
on his couch, staring at her with sunken eyes, a picturesque-looking old
man, with a complexion of bleached transparency; a white head, covered
by a velvet skull-cap, and a wasted form, wrapped in a dressing--gown of
embroidered Oriental silk. He looked both sad and suffering, and Nan
recognised as much with a pang of regret for all the hard terms she had
lavished upon his want of hospitality. Yes, indeed! he looked too ill
to receive visitors; too weary to be troubled with the commonplaces.
What could she say to explain her own visit? What in the world should
she find to talk about?
"Won't you sit down?" said a melodious voice. "Pray take a seat! I
cannot wait upon you myself, as you see, but I can recommend that old
saddle-bag. It is most comfortable." As he spoke, the invalid waved
his hand towards a chair near his own, and Nan seated herself upon it in
silence, glancing timidly in his face. This dumbness was appalling.
She racked her brains to think of something to say, but no ideas were
forthcoming; she could only twist her fingers in embarrassment, and wait
another lead.
"It is most kind of you to come to see me on such a tempestuous
afternoon," Mr Vanburgh continued politely. "I did not expect any
callers. Ladies, as a rule, are not fond of venturing out in the rain,
unless they have special business on hand."
Bravo! Here was a lead at last! What could be better than to follow up
the suggestion of a business call? Nan asked herself eagerly. Mrs
Maitland had regretted the loss of subscriptions upon which she had
counted from the wealthy owner of the Grange: would it not be a good
action if she could draw Mr Vanburgh's attention to the needs of the
Incurables, and induce him to promise a subscription? She would not
take the money, but leave the address of the secretary, to whom it could
be forwarded. Oh, it was admirable--an admirable idea! The afternoon's
escapade would lead to good after all. Nan's elastic spirits rose with
a bound, and she smiled upon her companion with restored equanimity.
"I have a special business. I did not come merely to pay a call, but to
ask your help for a cause in which I am much interested. I hoped that
you might feel inclined to give a subscription, and can assure you that
any sum which you may decide to give--"
To her dismay, the benevolent expression upon the watching face
disappeared, as she spoke, to give place to one of suspicion and
distrust. Mr Vanburgh moved himself on his pillows, so as to face her
more fully, and stared at her fixedly, beneath frowning brows.
"You want a subscription! You have come here to beg--to ask for money?"
"But not for myself!" explained Nan eagerly. The scrutiny bent upon her
was so searching that she felt bound to protest against a personal
interest. "It was for a charity, a local hospital, which is in want of
funds. It was thought--I thought that, as a newcomer to the
neighbourhood, you might like to hear about the various organisations,
and to give some support. There is a large poor population at Sale, a
mile from here, and the committee is always short of funds. Many of the
old residents have left, and the new ones don't--don't always."--Her
remembrance of odd sentences heard at committee meetings came to a
sudden end, and the voice trailed off in inarticulate murmurings.
"Do not always come forward in their place. Just so! And I am to
understand that you are deputed by these various charities and
organisations to plead their cause and collect subscriptions?"
Nan cleared her throat vigorously. It was the only way she could think
of by which to gain time, and decide how to evade the question.
"They are most grateful for all they can get. The committee would send
you an acknowledgment of your subscription. It would be better to send
it direct, instead of giving it to me. I just wish to call your
attention--to tell you particulars and enlist your interest--"
"Just so!" said Mr Vanburgh again; and Nan fancied that there was a
slight softening in the watching eyes. "Just so. And for what special
charity do you wish to plead to-day?"
"For the Home for Incurables!"
"Ah!" The word came with a hiss from between closed teeth. "Indeed!
You choose your object well, madam! I congratulate you on your
discretion. The cause is truly fitting."
She had made a false move this time, there was no doubt about it, for
the old man's voice was sharp with displeasure; but blundering Nan could
not even now imagine wherein lay the offence.
She gaped at him, with a stammering--
"Fitting! Why fitting? I don't understand what you mean!"
"Only that being incurable myself, I need your charity every whit as
much as those for whom you come asking help--"
"Incurable! You won't get better! Never get better until you--"
"Die? Precisely! That is what it means. I shall spend my life upon
this couch, or being wheeled about in a bath-chair, suffering torments
of pain and weariness until death comes to set me free--the kindliest
friend that could step inside my door!"
"Oh!" cried Nan sharply. "Oh!" The tears rushed to her eyes, and she
trembled from head to foot. It was terrible to listen to those words,
terrible to her youth and strength to hear death spoken of in those
yearning tones; her heart--Nan's big loving heart--went out in a rush of
sympathy towards the lonely sufferer. She stretched her hand towards
him, and cried brokenly, "I'm sorry! Oh, I'm sorry! We knew, of
course, that you were ill, but we never thought it was as bad as that."
"We! Who are we?" Mr Vanburgh's fingers closed over her hand, and he
held it firmly in his own, while he gazed at her with a gentleness of
mien before which Nan's resolution died a sudden death.
"My--my sisters!" she stammered humbly. "Oh, Mr Vanburgh, forgive me.
I'm Nan Rendell. I live in the house just across the road. I'm not an
old woman at all, only a stupid girl dressed up. I never meant to come,
but Chrissie dared me, and I thought I would come to the door and ring,
to give her a fright. I never thought you would let me in. You had
refused to see all other visitors. My father and mother called, and Mr
and Mrs Maitland--"
"They did, and many others. It was very kind, but I felt too ill to
receive them. With you, however, it was different, for I seemed to know
you already. I had seen so much of your life through `my study
window'--"
"Saw me! Then you knew all the time who I was? You knew--"
"I did! Yes. It was very interesting. I wondered how long you could
keep it up."
"But how--how?"
Mr Vanburgh smiled quietly.
"My couch is placed near the window, and during my long lonely days I
devote a good deal of attention to the passers-by. About three o'clock
this afternoon I observed a black robed figure steal out of your side
gate and approach the front door. I saw her admitted by the servant. I
saw her go out once again, and, like her sisters, kept watch for her
return."
"And you saw Chrissie point across to your door, and heard my ring?"
"I did. And rang myself, to give orders that you should be admitted.
That is the true and authentic account of the mystery. It is not so
mysterious after all, is it?"
"It's very embarrassing!" Nan was suddenly overcome by a consciousness
of how ridiculous she must have appeared in her assumed character, and
collapsed into feeble laughter, "What _must_ you think of me?"
"To tell the truth, I prefer your ordinary appearance. It is difficult
to recognise you in this attire. Would you think it a liberty if I
asked you to resume your ordinary guise? Please!" and he waved his hand
with an appeal which had in it an element of authority, despite all its
courtesy. Nan felt very small, very much like a mischievous child who
has spilt the ink-bottle, and is sent upstairs to be washed and tidied;
but, all the same, she was not sorry to remove the ugly trappings, and
appear in her true guise once more. Bonnet, veil, spectacles, and cloak
came off in succession; her dark hair curled in little rings round her
forehead, and the round young throat rose like a pillar above the
quaintly-cut bodice. If Lilias had been in her sister's place, she
would have reflected that her antique costume was appropriate to her
surroundings, but such thoughts as these never occurred to honest Nan.
She was merely concerned to see that the last remains of powder were
wiped away, and, being satisfied on this point, smiled at Mr Vanburgh
in friendly fashion.
"That's better!" he said cheerfully. "I begin to recognise you again.
I have seen you only from a distance so far, but I seem to know you very
well. You are `Nan,' you say, and you are what--number three, I
suppose? The young lady who went away the other day is the elder
sister, and after her comes the fair one with the golden locks."
"Lilias! Yes; she is the beauty of the family; I come next, and then
Elsie, the little one, with big, dark eyes. We call her `Mrs
Gummidge,' because she is melancholy, and feels things `more than
others.' Then comes Agatha; you know Agatha! the great big girl with
the huge feet and the rosy cheeks; and Christabel, the youngest--"
"Oh yes, I know Christabel!" said Mr Vanburgh, smiling, "and her friend
who comes to lessons every day: the brown-legged stork, with the red cap
and the curly locks. I like that child. She looks honest and
straightforward! Who is she?"
"Why, that's Kitty!" replied Nan, in a voice of surprised reproof, for
surely every one in Waybourne must know an important personage like
Kitty! "Her name is really Gwendoline Maitland, but everybody calls her
Kitty; and she was longing to know you, and made her mother come to call
in her new spring clothes, with a promise to bring in her name at every
turn of the conversation; and then, after all, you would not receive
her!"
"That was very sad! I am afraid I must have appeared churlish; but, as
a matter of fact, I came down to Waybourne to avoid old friends, rather
than make new ones. I am too ill to be sociable. It is a trial to me,
nowadays, to meet strangers."
"And yet--"
"And yet I wished to see you! That seems rather a contradiction, does
it not? But I have always been fond of young people, and I seemed to
have made your acquaintance in spite of myself. Perhaps you are hardly
aware how plainly one can see into your sitting-room from here."
Nan smiled and bent forward to look across the street, in response to a
wave of the invalid's hand.
The porch-room was exactly opposite, and the three-sided windows did
indeed allow an extraordinarily clear view of the interior. The girls
had always believed themselves out of range of vision when they were
seated at the table; but at this moment Nan could distinctly discern
four anxious faces scanning the opposite house, catch Agatha's craning
movements, and Lilias's waving hands. The sight provoked an
irresistible chuckle of amusement, and Mr Vanburgh's eyes turned
towards her in wistful scrutiny.
"You seem very merry together, you young people. Life is full of
happiness to you!"
"Oh, we have our trials!" said Nan quickly. "We are awfully happy
together; but still, of course, it isn't all as we should wish. Each
one of us has a grievance, and could talk about it for hours at a time,
if we had a chance. Sometimes we have dreadful fits of dumps. Elsie
has them chronically, but the rest of us are up and down. I'm generally
up myself; but still, I have my moments!"
"I should think they are very rare! Would it be indiscreet to ask what
is your peculiar cross?"
Nan pondered with raised brows and an expression which grew more and
more uncertain.
"It's rather difficult to say straight off, isn't it? There _is_
something, I know, but I forget what it is. I am always making stupid
mistakes for one thing, and that is so awkward, now that I am supposed
to be grown up. I'm eighteen, so I ought to know better. I went out to
my first dinner-party this winter, and the most awful thing happened. A
stupid male creature took me in, with a collar about a foot high, and
such an affected drawl that I could hardly understand a word he said.
However, I talked away and tried to be pleasant. I have a habit of
waving my hands when I talk; we all have--perhaps you have noticed it!
I was telling a story, and came to a point where it seemed necessary to
lift my hand suddenly, to give emphasis to what I was saying. Well, I
did it, and at that crucial moment if the waiter didn't go and hand a
sauce-bowl over my partner's shoulder! My hand met the bowl, and ...
Maud was sitting opposite, and she said that never in all her life had
she seen anything so appalling! The bowl flew up in the air, turned a
somersault, and the sauce rained down in showers upon his knees! He had
his serviette spread open, of course, but still it was bad enough.
There was silence all round the table. He sat stock still, staring at
his hands, all brown and dripping; then he said, in a very small,
exhausted voice, `I think I had bettaw--go up-sta-ahs!'"
Mr Vanburgh lay back against his cushions and pressed his hands to his
mouth. His shoulders heaved, and a curious muffled sound emerged from
his lips. He tried to strangle it, tried to frown, to choke the
inclination in his throat, but it was of no avail: laugh he must, and
laugh he did, his slight form shaking with merriment, the tears rising
in the tired eyes and streaming down his cheeks. Nan laughed afresh at
the comical spectacle, and as she looked a door behind the couch was
pushed gently open, and a startled face peered round the corner. It was
the face of the dark-skinned foreigner who was the invalid's attendant,
and his master greeted him with affectionate freedom.
"Yes, Pedro! Yes! It is quite true! I was laughing! It is a long
time since you have heard such a sound from my lips. No wonder you are
startled. It is this young lady who has wrought the miracle."
The dark eyes rested on Nan's face with a glow of gratitude which made
the girl's heart beat fast with pleasure. The eloquent Southern glance
conveyed many meanings, but he said simply, "The signorina is welcome!
I hope the signorina comes again!" and left the room in the same quiet,
unobtrusive manner in which he had entered.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
THE CURTAINED PICTURES.
When Mrs Rendell returned home and heard of Nan's latest escapade, she
was breathless with horror and consternation.
"I don't know what I am to do with you, child," she cried. "Every time
I go away there is a fresh outbreak, and you seem to grow worse instead
of better. It is useless to warn you!"
"Oh, mummy dear!" Nan's voice was full of protest, and she stared with
reproachful eyes in her mother's face. "It's not fair to say that! I
always do as you tell me. I never do what you have forbidden. You
can't think of a single instance where I have played a trick the second
time, when you have cautioned me against it!"
"But what is the good of that, when you immediately hit on something
even worse?" queried her mother despairingly. "What sane woman would
ever dream of forbidding a girl of eighteen to walk about the streets in
disguise, and go begging for subscriptions at strange houses? It takes
away my breath, even to think of it! All sorts of things might have
happened!"
"But only nice things did happen, dear! I always fall on my feet, you
know, and Mr Vanburgh is an old love. He sent his respects to you, and
hoped you and father would do him the favour of paying a second call, as
he would much like to make the acquaintance of my parents! It was the
first time in my life that I had heard you spoken of as adjuncts of my
noble self, and I can tell you I felt proud. Really and truly, it was a
blessing I went, for you can't think how he enjoyed seeing me. I said
good-bye three times over before he would let me go, and I told him
every single thing about our family!"
"I've no doubt you did!" Mrs Rendell groaned aloud, and stared
helplessly at the ceiling. "Please add to your list of prohibitions for
the future, my dear, that you are forbidden to go outside the door in an
assumed costume; and do try to behave like a reasonable creature,
instead of a hare-brained schoolboy! I can't make any promise about
calling again until I see what father says."
Nan was comfortably secure that her father would do as he was told, and
had little difficulty in persuading the good man that, above all things
in the world, he desired to make the acquaintance of his neighbour.
There was little fear that the visit would be deferred too long; for
with five daughters vying with each other to introduce the subject on
every possible opportunity, and to discuss times and seasons at
breakfast, lunch, and dinner, it speedily became an object to get the
call paid as soon as possible.
On the very next Saturday afternoon, therefore, Mrs Rendell attired
herself in calling array, was carefully surveyed by a critical audience,
pronounced to be a "credit to the family," and despatched to the Grange,
with a score of divergent instructions as to what to do, what to say,
and, above all, how to lay the foundation-stone of a future intimacy.
Perhaps, if the truth were known, Mrs Rendell was scarcely less excited
than her daughters at the prospect of being admitted into the presence
of the mysterious stranger; but if this were so, she was doomed to
disappointment, for the invalid seemed too weary and dispirited to enter
into conversation, and it was only by a most apparent effort that he
roused himself to reply to her remarks. Mrs Rendell would have felt
repelled by his coldness of manner, had it not been for one redeeming
point--his unaffected interest in her children! The wan face brightened
into a smile at the mention of Nan's name, and he begged that the girl
might be allowed to come over to see him "often--as often as possible,"
in a tone of unmistakable sincerity. Mrs Rendell assented graciously;
and, mindful of the reproaches which would be hurled at her head if she
returned without doing her best for every member of the family,
suggested that perhaps Mr Vanburgh would like to make the acquaintance
of the other girls also! He hesitated for a moment, but looked
gratified by the suggestion.
"If they would not find it too dull. I am fond of young people, but am
always afraid of boring them by my company. Our lives lie so far apart.
Perhaps they would come over at different times, and let me make their
acquaintance by degrees. The two younger ones especially--your own
daughter and the little girl who is her friend."
On the score of this distinction, Christabel and Kitty were the first
couple to take advantage of the invitation and cross the road to
interview Diogenes in his den. They confided in each other that they
were "simply dying of fright," but contrived to conceal their expiring
condition beneath haughty and dignified exteriors. The manner in which
Chrissie requested the old butler to inform his master of their advent
would have done credit to a princess of the blood, while Kitty stalked
upstairs behind her with majestic gravity. Outside the dreaded door,
however, it was impossible to resist exchanging a grimace of agitation,
and it was another instance of the contrariety of men that the butler
should turn his head at that inopportune moment, and discover them so
employed. Chrissie grew red with mortification, and Kitty spluttered
with laughter; so, after all, it was in the guise of two blushing,
giggling schoolgirls that they made Mr Vanburgh's acquaintance, instead
of that of self-possessed women of the world, as they had fondly hoped
would be the case. He looked from one to the other as they sat before
him--big, bonnie, well-grown girls, with flaming locks and fresh
complexions, and there was a great wistfulness in his gaze. The girls
felt it; and though the meaning thereof was a mystery, they understood
that here was an understanding, sympathetic soul, and immediately lost
their feeling of shyness.
In ten minutes' time they had confided to him their dream of the "Select
Academy," and he had promised to recommend the school to his friends,
with a seriousness which was balm to their vanity. Nothing is more
annoying to mature women of fourteen than to be treated as if they were
children; and when Mr Vanburgh discussed at length various points of
management on which the future partners were at variance, and gave
valuable suggestions on architectural designs, Christabel screwed up her
eyes at him with her most approving smile, and reflected that seldom, if
ever, had she met a grown-up person with so much common sense! Tea was
brought in for the girls' benefit, and Kitty poured it out, spilling the
milk over the cloth, and covering the wet spot with the muffin dish with
admirable presence of mind. She felt so much at home that she helped
herself to cake a second time without being asked, drank three cups of
tea, and only refrained from a fourth because the pot was drained.
After tea, conversation turned on hobbies, and it being discovered that
one girl had a mania for miniature jugs, and the other for foreign post-
cards, the Italian servant was summoned, and received instructions in
his own tongue, which resulted in an addition being made to each
collection: Kitty returned home hugging "a little d-arling" jug of
Italian pottery, while Chrissie exhibited a Chinese post-card, and
pictures of Mongolian belles printed on transparent rice paper. The
glories of the interview lost nothing from their descriptions; and
Lilias and Elsie sighed continuously until the time came for their own
visit.
In each heart the thought lay concealed that if Mr Vanburgh had been so
kind to the other girls, he must of a surety extend a still greater
favour to herself. The mirror assured Lilias that she was a sight to
"make an old man young"; while Elsie shook her head over the reflection
that only those who have suffered themselves can sympathise with the
woes of others. But, alas! disappointment awaited them; for, strange to
relate, the invalid found Lilias's fragile charms less attractive to his
eye than the healthful vivacity of her sisters; while condolence was so
distasteful to his ears, that he fairly scowled down Elsie's plaintive
assurances of sympathy. As a matter of fact, it was brightness and
amusement of which the recluse was in need; and as the last visitors
were the least humorous members of the family, it followed that their
presence was least welcome. Awkward silence recurred at intervals; and
when the girls rose to say good-bye, no request was made for a further
visit, though a message was sent to Nan, begging her to come by herself
on the first convenient occasion. Elsie made a public announcement in
the schoolroom that evening that she washed her hands of Mr Vanburgh,
finding in him a cold and unresponsive soul; but Lilias was not so
easily discouraged. It rankled in her mind that she had failed where
others had succeeded, and she determined to break down Mr Vanburgh's
prejudice and win the post of favourite, cost what it might. She had
not had a fair chance when Elsie was present. The members of one's own
family are apt to betray surprise at injudicious moments, to check one's
innocent rhapsodies by counter-assertions, and even to quote words used
on previous occasions, as a proof that conduct does not coincide with
theory. There were a dozen pretty little speeches she had been longing
to make, but it was impossible to deliver them when Elsie was sitting
there, listening with all her ears, ready to repeat them to a schoolroom
audience, or even commit them to the surer testimony of her diary. Some
day she would make excuse to go alone, and then--! Lilias nodded her
head in assured self-confidence, and watched Nan's air of proprietorship
with a smile, convinced that her own triumph was at hand. She was
beginning to realise that a declared understanding was less exciting
than an incipient love affair; the thirst for fresh conquest was upon
her, and in default of any more interesting prey, she determined to turn
her attention to Mr Vanburgh, and raked her silly little head to devise
schemes for subjection.