and using an even greater amount of emphasis than usual in her elation
of spirits. "The people behaved splendidly! Miss Shorter's behaviour I
consider simply _noble_! Do you know what she did? Refused to buy
anything at all, my deahs, until every one else had chosen, and then
went about buying up all the old rubbish which no one would have. It
would have made you _weep_ to see her collection of atrocities, and the
old dear beamed away as if she were quite delighted. I call it
Christian to buy straw spill-boxes and cork frames for the good of your
fellow-creatures!"
"But think of the ni-ice little fire they will make when the weather
turns chilly!" said Jim wickedly, as he jolted Chrissie's elbow, jerked
the plate out of Kitty's hand, and made a snap at Agatha's cake, held
temptingly before him. He could never by any chance sit near the girls
without teasing them in some such schoolboy fashion; and though they
made a great show of indignation, they would in reality have been much
disappointed if he had taken them at their word. In the present
instance all three girls fell upon him at once, and, having reduced him
to a state of submission, continued their song of jubilation.
"We took five pounds at the refreshment stall alone. It would make a
scandal in the parish if I divulged how many plates of strawberries the
vicar ate. Mrs Bolter bought up all the macaroons. `Home-made, my
dear? X-ellent! I must really beg the recipe.' Mrs Booth asked the
price of everything, and sniffed, and walked away. What a woman! Mrs
Raleigh seemed quite indignant because I had no eggs. `Dear me! I
quite _counted_ on getting fresh eggs!' Mr Vanburgh had only one cup
of tea. I don't call that helping the cause of charity!"
"I was busy in another direction, and if I neglected the tea, I did my
duty nobly by the lemonade. I am afraid we did not make very much
money, but, considering the low rates, it came to more than I expected.
How much did we take altogether, Miss Lilias?"
"Two pounds, one and sixpence; and all pure profit, remember! We had no
outlay to deduct," replied Lilias, with the shrewd little air of
business which contrasted so strangely with her child-like looks.
"Looking at it in that light, I think ours was the most profitable of
all the departments."
"And I made nothing! I feel quite guilty among you all, for I took not
a single coin the whole afternoon," said Maud the modest; but Jim would
not allow his favourite sister to decry herself in his presence, and was
up in arms in a moment in her defence.
"And why not, pray? Because you were doing the thankless work, as you
always are, and fielding for every one else. That was my task, too; and
let me tell these young people that they have to thank us for their
success. You tackled the dowagers, and put them into a good temper by
asking after their ailments, and I managed the girls. Bless their
pretty hearts, they would do anything for me! You should have heard me
complimenting 'em, and quoting poetry by the yard, and all the while
luring 'em on towards the fancy stall. Then I'd nothing to do but
remark, `See that cosy? I drew the design.' `Observe that cushion?
that's my favourite colour,' and they fairly jostled each other in their
eagerness to buy it. It was our gentle influence behind the scene which
helped you on, young women; and don't you forget it."
Maud smiled; but the smile flickered out all too quickly, as her smiles
had a habit of doing nowadays, and her brother glanced at her sharply.
Maud was not herself, and he feared that he knew too well the reason of
the change. The news of Ned Talbot's engagement to Lilias had smitten
him dumb with surprise; but as none of the home letters breathed a hint
of a like feeling, he had tried to persuade himself that he had been
mistaken in his earlier surmises. This had been easy to do, for Master
Jim was not given to distressing himself unnecessarily; but since his
return home his fears had sprung into life again in unwelcome fashion.
When Maud returned to the house he rose as if to follow, but, changing
his mind, turned back and took possession of Kitty Maitland instead.
"What is the matter with my Maud?" he asked her the moment they had
turned a corner and were safely out of hearing. "She hasn't half the
life and go in her that she had last time I was home. What have you
been doing to her, I should like to know?"
Kitty elevated her eyebrows until they were almost lost to sight beneath
her curling hair.
"Personally," she said, "personally I have treated her with every
consideration. Maud is Maud, and no one in this neighbourhood would
dare to treat her otherwise. Of course if other people--from a
distance--choose to make lunatics of themselves, and--and--"
"All right--you need say no more! I thought as much; and as you and I
had discussed the situation together last year, I wanted to see if your
ideas agreed with mine. I could have sworn we were right, and can't
imagine how this muddle has come about. It's a big mistake anyhow, and
some one will find it out before long, or my name's not James Rendell.
It's not my business, I suppose, but I--I should uncommonly like to kick
somebody, just as a small relief to my feelings!"
"Oh, so should I--badly; but I'm afraid I couldn't kick hard enough,"
said Kitty humbly. "The worst of it is you have to be civil, because to
show your suspicions would be the most unkind thing you could do. I
know Nan agrees with us, and I think Elsie too, but the others seem
quite pleased and satisfied."
"Well, let it be a lesson to you, never to allow yourself to be
influenced by looks. `Appearance is deceitful, and beauty vain,'"
quoted Jim sententiously. "That Vanburgh fellow, for instance, is, I
suppose, better-looking to the casual glance than I am myself, but I
don't need to point out to you the infinite superiority of my character.
Whenever, my estimable Katherine, you meet with a man who is popularly
styled handsome, take my word for it, he is a wolf in sheep's clothing,
and ought to be avoided. People like you and me, with noble hearts and
ugly faces,"--but at this point even Kitty's forbearance came to an end,
and she stalked off to the house in a fume of indignation. Feminine
fourteen does not find the consolation it should in nobility of
character at the cost of plainness of feature!
Gervase and Nan, left alone on the garden seat, had meantime turned
towards each other with inquiring smiles. It was the first time they
had found themselves alone, and each was anxious to question the other
concerning the time of absence.
"Well," quoth he, "and how have you been, and what have you been about
all this long month?"
"Quite well, thank you; and I'm proud to say, slaving like a nigger for
the good of my fellow-creatures. An ignorant man can hardly realise the
amount of work it takes to get up a sale like this, but I shall bear the
marks to my grave. Look at that!" and she held out towards him a pair
of sunburned hands, shapely enough, but disfigured with sundry scars and
bruises inflicted by hammer and chisel. Her look of pride in her wounds
was comically in contrast to her companion's distress, as his glance
wandered from the little hard-worked fingers to his own white hands,--
almond-nailed, soft-palmed, taper-fingered, the hands of a man who has
lived an idle life, and known little or nothing of the reality of work.
Nan's eyes followed his, and she laughed in amused fashion. "Mine look
like the man's, and yours like the woman's! The contrast makes mine
browner than ever. How do you manage to keep them so white?"
"Don't!" said Gervase shortly. "I am not at all proud of them, Miss
Nan. They have been useless enough hitherto, and if they find any work
now, it is more your doing than their own. I have tried to turn over a
new leaf since I saw you last, and to remember your axiom--"
"And did you find them? Did you help them over? Were many lame, and
not able to walk?"
"Crowds! Dozens! Scores! The whole parish seems hobbling; and I
foresee that that stile will keep me busy, now that I have begun. It
was astonishing how many cripples seemed waiting for my advent, and what
a lot of `helping over' they required. When they had recovered from the
shock of discovering that I was showing some interest in their affairs,
they were not at all bashful about stating their desires. One man
wanted a new roof to his cottage--his wife was rheumatic, and objected
to the rain coming through on her bed. I had previously refused the
request through my agent, but when I went to inspect the place, I could
not deny that repairs were needed. The woman showed me her fingers,
too--most unpleasant! I would rebuild the whole cottage rather than
look at them again!"
He shrugged his shoulders, with a relapse into his old affectation of
manner, which brought Nan's eyes upon him with a flash of indignation;
but she refrained from remonstrance, as, after all, he had granted her
request; and he continued his story uninterrupted.
"Another man begged for an extra strip of land where an invalid daughter
might keep chickens, and so contribute towards the family-purse. Three
widows had sons to place, and seemed to think that a word from me would
be sufficient to secure positions with handsome salaries; half a dozen
women demanded letters to hospitals. The school marm wanted an
additional window in her cottage, which is about as gloomy a little hole
as I have had the pleasure of entering; and the vicar, hearing reports
of my new-found generosity, requested a donation towards a new organ,
felt he would be the better for a second curate, and remarked _en
passant_ that he had had a lifelong desire to visit the Holy Land. I
promised to pay the last hundred pounds for the organ when he had made
up the rest of the sum, said that the parish was too small to allow two
whole curates and myself to live together in peace and harmony; and
congratulated him on his good fortune in not having visited Palestine.
I have, and ever since my return have been strenuously striving to
forget, and work back to my old dreams. He went away saddened and
surprised; but as he is neither poor nor hard-worked, I did not consider
that he came within my category. I was beginning to feel a trifle
overworked, and was quite relieved to get away for a rest!"
"I think you have done splendidly, and am sure you have enjoyed it, in
spite of all you may say. It gives one such a lovely, warm, glowey
feeling to help other people! On the rare occasions when I have
succeeded in doing it, I have just longed to be a philanthropist, for I
felt so deliriously happy and pleased with myself. You can't look me in
the face and deny that you have been far happier this last month, and
far less bored and cynical?"
Gervase laughed, and shrugged his shoulders.
"Have it your own way! I deny nothing. I am considerably the loser
both in time and money by the new arrangement, but perhaps that is
wholesome discipline. I don't know that I have experienced much of the
`glow' as yet; which is, I suppose, because I have not your affection
for my fellow-creatures; but I hope it is yet to come, for it sounds an
attractive sensation."
"Don't laugh at me," said Nan severely. "I said glowey, and I mean
glowey! No other word expresses the sensation. You'll understand some
day when you have it yourself, and be sorry that you made fun of me. As
for liking your people, the more you help them, the more interested you
will feel, until in the end you will positively love them as if they
were your own relatives."
Gervase looked dubious.
"If only they would refrain from exhibiting their deformities! I do so
strongly object to looking at disagreeable objects," he sighed
plaintively; then suddenly his face grew grave, and he added in a
different voice, "It will be a long time, I fear, before I can reach
your standard of loving help. So far it is a duty only, and a
distasteful one in to the bargain; but I will persevere, in hope of
better things. There is one person in the parish who has been set in
the right way through your instrumentality. If the other efforts have
failed, this, at least, has been a success, and it was time that some
one took him in hand. An idle, loafing rascal who thought of nothing
but his own comfort, and was the biggest waster in the village. He has
set to work now, and he shall stick to it, or I'll know the reason why!
I'll keep a stern hand on him, Nan, for your sake; for it was you, not
I, who set this ball a-rolling, and I am only the executor of your
orders. It is you who have played the good angel in his life, and he
shall have no chance of slipping back."
"But you mustn't be too stern with the poor young man. You must make
allowances, and be patient and forbearing. I shall be so interested to
know how he goes on. It is nice to have a _protege_, and feel that one
has had some part in his reformation. Tell me his name, so that I may
know what to call him."
Gervase looked at her curiously. The eager face was without a suspicion
of embarrassment, but it coloured over with a quick flush of surprise as
she listened to his reply.
"His name," Gervase said slowly, "you have heard before. His name is
Vanburgh!"
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
THE BLOW FALLS.
Two days later, Maud was sitting reading in the drawing-room, when the
door opened, the servant pronounced a name which thrilled her with
surprise, and, looking up, she beheld Ned Talbot standing before her,--
Ned Talbot, or the wraith of Ned, for so pale did he appear, so worn and
haggard, that it needed no words to tell the nature of his visit.
Maud had heard about the anxieties of the last few months, and had
grieved for Ned in her tender heart, feeling an added bitterness in the
lot which forbade her the privilege of comforting him; but now it would
appear that Fate had led them to each other, and even her modesty could
not mistake the relief in voice and manner as his eyes rested upon her.
"Maud," he cried,--"Maud, it is you! Oh, this is good, this is better
than I hoped for, to find you here, and alone! I was longing for your
help; but you are so much away nowadays that I seldom see you. Well,
Maud, it has come--the end has come! I have thrown up my post, and have
to face the world again, and the whole weary fight from the beginning.
All these years have been wasted; the time has gone, and the money, and
the strength, and here I am at the end, stranded and beaten! You may
wonder how I have the audacity to show myself among you. If I had any
pride left, I should have stayed away--"
He broke off with a hard, unnatural laugh, and Maud laid her hand on his
arm with a soothing gesture, her own trouble forgotten in the necessity
of soothing his.
"Come and sit down," she said gently. "Sit down, and tell me all about
it. We are not fair-weather friends, Ned, and will only care for you
the more because you need help. If you have lost this post, I am sure
it is from no fault of your own, so you must not be cast down. Tell me
about it--Or stay! Shall I call Lilias? She is at the Grange, but I
could send for her at once."
She paused, looking inquiringly into Ned's face, and he hesitated
painfully, the colour flushing in his thin cheeks, his eyebrows
twitching nervously.
"I think--not!" he said slowly at last. "She will hear soon enough, and
she is so young and inexperienced that she cannot understand. Let me
first talk it over with you, Maud, and then--No! It was no fault of
mine, though in the last instance it was I who gave in my resignation.
I could not stay on longer, and keep my self-respect. Positions were
forced upon me impossible to any man of honour. My post was
deliberately made untenable, and to stay on would have been the act of a
coward and a scoundrel. They had got what they wanted out of me, and I
was of no further use. It only remained to get rid of me as quickly as
possible,--and, mark you, by my own doing in the last instance, so that
they might preserve some appearance of honour before their neighbours!"
"But can such things be?" Maud wondered incredulously. "Is it really
possible that men, calling themselves gentlemen and, I suppose,
Christians, can be so absorbed in the idea of growing rich that they can
be so low, so base? To go to a young fellow who is fighting against
hard odds, to propose a scheme which looks fair and smooth, to suck his
brains and steal his business from him, and then--then--to treat him as
you say, and send him out on the world alone! Oh, Ned, is it possible?
One can hardly believe in such wickedness. Are there many such people
in your business world?"
"Not many, thank God! but there are a few who are notorious for
absorbing small firms, and treating their owners as I have been treated.
They build up huge fortunes, and we are ruined; they succeed, and we
fail, and the world goes on as usual, and no one sees any difference, or
takes any thought of the poor fellows who have gone to the wall."
"God does!" said Maud softly. "God doesn't think they have failed! In
His eyes they have succeeded, and are rich, while the others are ruined
and outcast. Don't be cast down, Ned--don't lose hope! God is on your
side, and has some good purpose behind this trouble. The clouds are
dark to-day, and you cannot see it, but in years to come it will be
plain. Keep a brave heart, and don't grieve too much over what is past.
You have the future before you, and you are young and strong. You
would not allow any one else but yourself to call you beaten, and I will
not hear it from your lips."
"Oh, Maud!" cried Ned brokenly, "you always know what to say, you always
say the right thing! How can I thank you? If girls only understood
what angels they might be to men,--if they would remind us oftener that
this world is not all,--what a help it would be! We are out on the
battlefield, and it is difficult to remember these things, especially
when we are so hard pressed that our thoughts are engrossed with the
struggle. I felt hard and bitter when I came into this room, for it's a
terrible thing to face ruin,--a girl cannot imagine how terrible, for
she is shielded from such trouble,--but you have put fresh life into me
by your sweet words."
Maud smiled faintly, her brows drawn together in painful fashion. She
was saying to herself that she knew well what it was to see life robbed
of its dearest hope, and realising, as many a girl has done before her,
that one of the sorest features of her trial was that she could neither
ask nor receive sympathy from her friends. The reflection brought her
thoughts back to Lilias, and she was once more about to suggest sending
a message to the Grange, when the door burst open and Lilias herself
danced into the room. What a contrast to the pale and depressed couple
seated on the sofa! Just returned from a delightful visit to the
Grange, love of admiration gratified by Mr Vanburgh's courtesy and
Gervase's elaborate compliments, her hands full of trophies in the shape
of flowers and fruit, she looked the impersonation of happiness and
prosperity, and singularly out of sympathy with her companions. She was
half-way across the room before she recognised Ned, and the sudden
change which then passed over her face was far from flattering to his
vanity.
"You!" she gasped, in bewilderment. "Is it you? When did you come?
I--I never knew. You said nothing in your letter about coming."
"No; I wanted to tell you the news myself!" Ned rose and stood beside
her, not attempting any lover-like greetings, but holding her hand
tightly in his own. His face was pathetic in its wistfulness, and dread
of the pain which he was about to inflict, but it was in the tone of a
father speaking to a child that he said gently--
"I have bad news for you, Lilias--the news which I have been dreading.
I have sent in my resignation to the heads of the firm, and have
practically said `Goodbye' to the Works. It is a bad business, and very
hard on you; but, as Maud has been reminding me, I am young and strong,
and we must not be cast down by a first failure. If you will have faith
in me, and will wait a few years, all will come right yet."
He paused, and Lilias stared at him with incredulous eyes. Her glance
wandered from him to Maud, from Maud around the pretty luxurious room,
through the window to the garden beyond, and finally back to his face.
Her lips moved, and the words came out in spasmodic snatches.
"You have resigned? You threw it up? You did it of your own accord, in
spite of all I could say--of my wishes and entreaties? It is your own
doing?"
Ned dropped the hand which he held in his, and straightened his
shoulders with a gesture at once proud and determined. His voice took a
sharper edge, and the gentleness died out of his face.
"Yes, it is my own doing, Lilias, in this last instance, but you know
what has driven me to it. I have told you in what position I was
placed. I could not stay on without sacrificing every sense of honour.
Surely you can understand and sympathise with me in my misfortune?"
Lilias laughed, a high, hysterical laugh, and threw back her head with a
defiant gesture.
"Oh, I understand--yes! I have understood all the time. Your
ridiculous quixotic notions have ruined your life, and you don't care if
they ruin mine also. You think of your own feelings, your own
discomforts, but you never think of _met_ If you really loved me, you
would bear a few discomforts for my sake; but no! it must all go, you
must throw it all away. I begged, I implored, I did everything that was
in my power to prevent it coming to this. You can't deny that I did?"
"No, Lilias, I cannot. I am bitterly grieved to remember that you have
systematically urged me to act against my conscience." It was an
unexpected answer, almost awful in its unflinching sternness, and Lilias
greeted it by a burst of weeping.
"Oh yes, yes, blame me! blame me! It's not enough that you have brought
this misery upon me, but now you must begin to abuse me to my face! It
is cruel and cowardly to turn against me like this!"
"Hush, Lilias, oh, hush, hush!" Maud stood before her--Maud's fingers
gripped her arm in remonstrance.
"Think what you are saying. You are surprised and shocked; but you must
not, you shall not talk so wildly! Ned is in trouble, and it is your
place to comfort him. He has done what is right, and it is harder for
him than for you. He needs your help!" But Lilias only sobbed the
louder, making no attempt to give the desired comfort, and Ned said
sadly--
"I ask no more from you at present, Lilias, than a fair judgment. Maud
has given me her sympathy and encouragement, but that seems too much to
hope for from you. Try to believe, if possible, that I was not
indifferent to your interests. Maud would not allow me to say I had
failed because I must suffer temporarily for conscience' sake; she
believes that the day will come when I shall be thankful for this change
in my circumstances. Can't you bring yourself to feel the same; to look
forward to a future when I may meet with success instead of reverse?"
"No, I can't; how can I? It is contrary to reason. You said yourself
that you could never hope to be master again, and situations are so
difficult to find. I've heard father talking, and I know. Sometimes
men have to wait years and years before they find an opening, and then
it's a wretched thing with a salary of two or three hundred a year. And
you have less chance than many, because your own Works didn't pay, and
you have left these people after such a short time. It will count
against you. People will think it is your own fault."
"Lilias!" cried Maud again, and this time her voice trembled with anger,
and her eyes sent out such a flash as her sister had never seen before,
"how dare you! How dare you be so cruel! If it were true a hundred
times over, how could you have the heart to say so to Ned in the midst
of his trouble? For pity's sake, think what you are doing!"
"Don't distress your kind heart, Maud. It is better that I should know
exactly what Lilias has in her mind. She is right in her surmises. The
changes will tell against me in public opinion, and it is quite probable
that I may suffer for them. I would not for one moment deny it, so you
see there is no injustice in the accusation. You are right, Lilias! My
chance of being a rich man is sensibly diminished by this last
misfortune, and it may be years before I can earn even a bare
competency. I have never deceived you about my position, and I shall
not begin now. I knew that my news would be a blow to you, but I could
not have believed that you would receive it as you have, without a word
of kindness or sympathy. Apart from the question of love, I should have
thought any woman would have taken pity on a man in the first sharpness
of his misfortune, and have spared him her reproaches. Maud has been an
angel of kindness, but you have had no thought of my sufferings."