MR GRIBBLE’S DISCOVERY.
Without the disfiguring encumbrance of her walking attire she really
looked beautiful, particularly when she had somewhat loosened her
heavy knot of hair and let it rest upon her slender shoulders. Her
figure was very graceful, too, notwithstanding that her cotton dress
was old-fashioned and without ornament. It was difficult to believe
that she was five-and-twenty, for she looked a mere girl as she
walked backwards and forwards with the kettle and the teapot and the
bread-and-butter, humming in a low voice to herself as she went.
She felt happier now that she was released from the espionage of Mr
Gribble, although the unexpected event of the afternoon had upset her,
and she looked forward with some trepidation to the coming visit of
Seth Brunt. Once, as she passed a little mirror and caught sight of her
pale face, she clasped her head with both her hands and spoke aloud.
‘Will the spectre of the past never--_never_ leave me?’ she said. ‘Am
I always to be haunted by the misery I have cast behind me? And I
think--I am almost sure--I might be so happy. Well, if it comes in my
way, I _will_ be,’ she added determinately. ‘I have suffered enough
already, Heaven knows! Surely no one is doomed to a whole life of
terror.’ It was growing dusk by that time, and the church clock chimed
out seven. ‘Brunt will be here presently,’ she thought. ‘I will not
take my cup of tea until he can join me.’
She made her little table look as inviting as she could, and lit the
gas beside the fireplace. It was a comfortable set of rooms which she
occupied, or her deft fingers had made them look so. They were plainly
furnished in oak, but fresh flowers and muslin, and an ornament or
photograph here and there, had transformed them to the apartments
of a lady. There were only two rooms, and a tiny kitchen, but when
Miss Stafford had dismissed her scholars, and locked the door behind
her, she felt that she was free and at peace. Not happy--far from it.
The walls of her little rooms had echoed many heart-breaking sobs,
and witnessed many hours of despair, of which Messrs Gribble and
Axworthy knew nothing; but the woman had battled against her grief,
and conquered it, and now she felt annoyed and excited to think that
anything was going to disturb the buried past. Still, Seth Brunt had
been a kind friend to her in the bygone days, and she did not like to
be ungrateful.
‘Poor old Brunt,’ she thought pitifully, ‘he used to stick up for me
against everyone, but I honestly wish he had never run across me here.
And what can he possibly have to say to me about _him_?’
As if in answer to her unspoken question, the schoolhouse bell at this
moment rang out a clamorous iron peal. Miss Stafford opened the door at
once and ushered her visitor in.
‘Sit down, Brunt,’ she said, and then, looking out into the night, she
added anxiously, ‘I hope no one saw you come in? Did you meet anybody
just about here?’
‘Not a soul, madame,’ replied the sailor; ‘but haven’t you your
liberty? Can’t you do as you like?’
‘Oh, yes, Brunt, I am my own mistress, when school is over, of course.
Only, I think Deepdale is the most inquisitive place I ever knew. They
want to know everything about everybody.’
‘They don’t know much about you, I expect,’ said Brunt.
Her pale face flushed as she reclosed the door and sat down opposite
to him in the light. ‘Why should they know anything about me?’ she
replied. ‘What business is it of theirs? I do my duty, and there our
agreement ends.’
‘Ah, madame, it makes my heart ache to find you here--you, who have
never been used to work in your life. I thought you would have gone
home to live with your mother. Someone told me that you had.’
‘So I did for a while, but my mother is not rich, and I cannot live
upon anyone’s bounty. And then, there is Paul, you see.’
‘True. And how is Paul, madame?’
Miss Stafford sighed.
‘He is just the same. He will never be different. He has been
_murdered_!’
She spoke bitterly, and clenching her hand, knocked it in a nervous
manner against her teeth.
‘Ah, madame, that is the very thing I wished to speak to you about. I
saw the Captain as I passed through London. I may almost say that I
came straight from him.’
‘That doesn’t enhance the pleasure of seeing you, Brunt.’
‘Perhaps not. But he is so ill. He is almost at death’s door. He is too
feeble to leave the house.’
‘The news does not affect me.’
‘It would if you saw him, madame. He is a wreck of his former self. He
is weak as a child.’
‘So much the better for the next poor wretch who falls into his hands,’
she answered.
‘You have grown very hard since I last saw you,’ said the sailor.
The rebuke goaded her into anger.
‘_Hard!_’ she echoed. ‘Can _you_, of all men call me hard? You--who
have seen me kicked like a dog, who have heard me insulted as if I
had been the lowest creature on the face of earth, outraged, spit
upon, deserted. You call me _hard_. It is a wonder I can endure your
presence, knowing that you take his hand and call him friend.’
‘Not when he ill-treated you, madame. Pardon me. I quarrelled with him
then, as you must remember. But now that he is dying--without you, or
anyone to smooth his pillow, I can’t help thinking of the days when
we was all happy together aboard the _Lily of Christiansand_, and
wondering if he, poor fellow! thinks about them too.’
‘I have no pity for him. He has brought his misfortunes on his own
head. And if I _had_, one thought of Paul would drown it. You seem to
forget _Paul_,’ said Miss Stafford indignantly.
‘No, madame, I do not. But the poor Captain was not in his right mind.
When a man drinks to excess, he becomes mad. If you only saw him now--’
‘I don’t want to see him now,’ interrupted his companion. ‘I never wish
to see him again, either in this world or the next. I hope I never
shall. I lead a life of labour and privation--sometimes I feel it to be
a very hard life. But I thank God every night that I lie down in my bed
that I am free and alone.’
‘Then, I suppose, there’s no chance of anything like a coming together
again,’ said Brunt wistfully.
She veered round upon him with a face full of astonishment.
‘Are you _mad_?’ she exclaimed.
‘No, madame; I’m only sorry for both of you. It wouldn’t have
entered my head to say such a thing if I hadn’t come acrost you so
unexpectedly. But I’ve often wondered where you was, and wished I could
tell you of him.’
‘It is quite useless, I assure you,’ she answered coldly. ‘Even if I
_could_ go I would not. _That_ part of my life is over, thank Heaven. I
should never be such a fool as to renew it.’
‘Perhaps the future will be happier. You have many years before you
yet,’ said Brunt. ‘But the poor Captain’s days are numbered--there’s
no doubt of that. Death’s written in his face. And I felt somehow as I
must tell you of it. For once’--he added hesitatingly--‘_once_, you was
very fond of him.’
‘Yes, once I was,’ admitted Miss Stafford, after a short pause. She
poured the sailor out a cup of tea, and took one herself, and for a few
minutes she was busied with the milk and the sugar, and said nothing.
Then she recommenced,--
‘I am not quite sure if I am glad or sorry to have met you again,
Brunt. You were a kind friend to me in the old days, and I am grateful
for it, but I never wish to think of that time again. I was too utterly
miserable. I have buried myself in Deepdale, and I hoped I should never
hear the past spoken of. But your presence revives it terribly, and
your speech still more so. Pray talk of something else. Are you going
to sea again soon?’
‘Whenever I get a ship, madame. But I almost hope that mayn’t be just
yet. My old mother has ailed lately, and I seem never sure that each
parting mayn’t be the last. _Your_ mother is well, I trust?’
‘Yes. She was terribly cut up about my trouble. Any mother would be.
But she knows I am happier as it is.’
‘And Paul--’ inquired Brunt.
‘Paul is with her. I could not have him here. I have told you that I
am known as Miss Stafford only, and I have no intention of taking any
other name.’
‘Ah, you will some day,’ said the sailor significantly.
She coloured.
‘I think not. I have had too much trouble to wish for any change
excepting death. But I am really very comfortable here. The work is
monotonous, but I am interested in it, and it makes me independent. I
did not get it for the asking, Brunt. I had to study hard for more
than a year before I was qualified. But now I should be sorry to give
it up. Deepdale is a lovely village, and I have made several friends
here.’
‘Aye, aye, you’re the better off of the two,’ replied Seth Brunt.
‘As I deserve to be,’ trembled on her tongue, but she wished for no
more argument, and turned the subject to a less dangerous theme.
Meanwhile the two Miss Gribbles had returned home with their papa, and
were recounting the adventures of the afternoon to their mamma. Mrs
Gribble was a stout woman, with red cheeks with a glaze on them, round
black eyes, a broad nose, and a figure which encouraged the fallacious
idea that she was about to add to the population. She was extremely
jealous of her ugly little husband, and had been set against the school
teacher from the beginning of her career. Miss Stafford was far too
handsome and refined in appearance to suit Mrs Gribble, who now heard
for the first time that she had accompanied her family to Haltham.
‘What’s that you say, Caroline?’ she demanded of her eldest daughter.
‘Miss Stafford went into Haltham with you?’
‘Yes, ma. We met her outside of the school’ouse, and pa asked if she’d
like to drive into Haltham, so she came too.’
‘And why was _I_ not informed of your intentions, Mr Gribble?’ Mrs
Gribble said sternly to her husband, who was sitting by with his mouth
full of bread-and-butter.
‘Well, my dear, as our little one puts it, it was quite a haccident.
Miss Stafford required sundries for the school from Spring’s, so I
offered to take her there. I considered it a dooty!’
‘Oh!’ ejaculated Mrs Gribble significantly, and then turned to Carrie
again, ‘And what else have you to tell me, dear?’
‘Oh, ma!’ they both chimed in at once, ‘Miss Stafford was _so_ unkind.
She nearly pulled our arms off because we went the wrong way, and
shoved us into Spring’s shop quite hard. She ’urt us,’ they grumbled,
sticking their lips out.
‘Mr Gribble!’ exclaimed Mrs Gribble, ‘I will _not_ have my children
struck and pushed about by that young woman. She takes a great deal
too much on herself. But, of course, if _you_--the churchwarden of
Deepdale--go driving her in my phee-aton into Haltham, she thinks she
is _everybody_!’
‘It was very wrong of her, my dear, if it occurred, but I confess I
have never seen her anything but kind to _all_ the children.’
‘Oh, of course, you take _her_ part. _That_ is only what I expected,’
replied Mrs Gribble sarcastically.
‘Oh, ma! she _isn’t_ kind--not to _us_! She kissed Mrs Corney’s baby
to-day, _twice_, but she never kisses us.’
‘You hear, Mr Gribble, you hear!’
‘And to-day, when pa left us with her,’ continued the little animals,
perceiving their advantage, ‘she didn’t take no care of us at all, but
went away with a man.’
‘With a _man_!’ cried Mrs Gribble in horror; ‘you must be mistaken, my
loves.’
‘Oh, no, ma,’ replied the children eagerly, ‘he _was_ a man. He had
a long black beard. And when he first saw teacher, he said, “Hullo!
here’s madam,” and she said, “No, I ain’t,” and then afterwards she
said, “Yes, I am, and you must come outside with me.” And they went
outside, and stayed ever so long, and when she came back her face was
so red we thought he must have been scolding her.’
Mrs Gribble leaned back in her chair and folded her hands majestically
upon her black silk stomach.
‘Well, Mr Gribble,’ she said, after a pause, ‘do you hear _that_?’
‘I do; but I can hardly believe it. In Mr Spring’s shop, did you say,
Lottie?’
‘Yes, pa; a big man, with a loud voice and a blue jacket--a
sailor-looking sort of man. And he said, “Hullo! here’s madam.”’
‘_Hullo! here’s madam_,’ repeated Mrs Gribble contemptuously; ‘a nice
sort of greeting to a respectable young woman. One of her former
associates, doubtless. And _this_ is the person to whom you have
entrusted the charge of my precious children.’
‘I must inquire into it, most decidedly,’ said Mr Gribble. ‘Charlotte
and Caroline, if you have finished your meal, say your grace and go up
to bed. I wish to speak alone with your mamma.’
‘He’s going to give ’er a wigging for talking against Miss Stafford,’
whispered Carrie to Lottie, oracularly, as they climbed the stairs
together. ‘Pa likes teacher a deal more than ma does. I think ma hates
’er--don’t you?’
‘I suppose you’ll ’ardly stick up for Miss Stafford any more after
_this_,’ said Mrs Gribble when they were gone. ‘A nice thing for the
schoolmistress of Deepdale to be called a “_madam_” in an open shop on
market day. Why, it’ll be all over Haltham by this time.’
‘I don’t like it, my dear, I confess. I don’t like it,’ replied Mr
Gribble, rubbing his scrubby little chin. ‘We must have no scandal in
Deepdale school, and no levity on the part of its mistress. I didn’t
quite like the way in which she received an admonition I gave her as we
were coming home respecting young Rushton.’
‘Young Rushton! Oh, so there’s another, is there. _One_ is not enough
for my lady at a time. Well, if it isn’t the most disgraceful thing I
ever heard in my life.’
‘Not quite that, my dear, not quite that,’ replied Mr Gribble. ‘Mr
Rushton’s attentions may mean nothing, but the teacher of Deepdale
cannot be too careful. I was pointing this out to her, but she did
not take my warning in the spirit I should have liked to see. And now
there is this other person. I think I must ask Miss Stafford for an
explanation.’
‘Explanation!’ snorted Mrs Gribble. ‘Her conduct ought to be exposed
before the whole parish. I always said she wasn’t fit to ’old the
position.’
‘I’ll walk down and speak to her about it to-night,’ said her husband,
with sudden resolution, as he stood up and buttoned his coat.
‘You had much better go to the parsonage and inform Mr Measures of her
disgraceful behaviour,’ retorted Mrs Gribble.
‘No, my dear, not until I have tried my own authority. Miss Stafford
is a sensible young woman. She will surely listen to the voice of her
churchwarden.’
‘Well, don’t you let her keep you there till midnight, or I’ll know the
reason why,’ screamed out his spouse as he left the room.
‘My dear, my dear,’ he said expostulatingly as he hurried down the
garden path.
He honestly considered Miss Stafford a very valuable assistant in the
task of rearing the future generation of Deepdale, though there was not
the slightest ground for the unworthy suspicions of Mrs Gribble. But he
was both a prudish and a priggish little man, with a vast idea of his
own importance, and quite believed that an angry tone from him would be
sufficient to make the teacher tremble in her shoes and entreat him to
avert the evil consequences of her levity. He was thinking thus as he
reached the schoolhouse and rang the bell. Miss Stafford came to the
door, but she did not throw it open for him to enter. On the contrary,
she retained her hold upon the handle as she spoke to him.