A FATAL SILENCE
BY
FLORENCE MARRYAT
AUTHOR OF
‘LOVE’S CONFLICT,’ ‘VÉRONIQUE,’ ETC., ETC., ETC.
_IN THREE VOLUMES_
VOL. II.
LONDON
GRIFFITH FARRAN OKEDEN & WELSH
NEWBERY HOUSE, CHARING CROSS ROAD
AND SYDNEY.
D.: G. C. & CO.: 30.91.
_The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are reserved._
_CONTENTS._
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
PAULA IS MARRIED, 1
CHAPTER II.
A TRIUMPHANT RETURN, 28
CHAPTER III.
PAULA’S VISITORS, 60
CHAPTER IV.
LADY BRISTOWE, 89
CHAPTER V.
A MYSTERIOUS LOSS, 124
CHAPTER VI.
THE WIDOW’S STRATAGEM, 154
CHAPTER VII.
THE SCANDAL SPREADS, 183
CHAPTER VIII.
A VALIANT PARTISAN, 202
CHAPTER IX.
NEW PROSPECTS, 221
A FATAL SILENCE.
CHAPTER I.
PAULA IS MARRIED.
Hal Rushton 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 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 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 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.
‘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.’
And, notwithstanding the vicar’s remonstrances, the steadfast hearted
little woman made use of the same expression in the very teeth of Mr
Gribble.
‘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.’
‘Labours of love! do you call them, Mr Gribble? Is not Miss Brown
receiving the usual teacher’s stipend?’ asked Mrs Measures.
‘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.’
‘Indeed, I fancy I heard you say something of the same kind respecting
Miss Stafford when she first came to Deepdale.’
‘Ah! but pardon me, ma’am, _I_ 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.’
‘I quite agree with you, Mr Gribble,’ retorted the vicar’s wife; ‘you
_were_ 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.’
‘A _what_, ma’am?’ demanded the churchwarden, unable to believe his
ears.
‘A pearl cast before swine, Mr Gribble,’ repeated Mrs Measures, ‘and I
have told the vicar so several times.’
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 his real
feelings. So he smiled in a sickly manner, and said,--
‘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 _pearl_, ma’am, and _swine_,
ma’am, I must say I consider the comparison ’ard.’
‘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.
‘Well, my dear, things _is_ come to a pretty pass,’ Mrs Gribble
confided to Mrs Axworthy later on, ‘when a clergyman’s wife calls her
’usband’s parishioners _pigs_ to their faces. That’s what _we_ all
are, Mrs Axworthy, ma’am--pigs and swine. And Miss Stafford, who had
gentlemen in to supper unbeknown to all, is a 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 _swine_. It makes me sick.’
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.
At last August drew to a close--the house was ready for the reception
of the bride--and Hal Rushton packed up his portmanteau and prepared
to start for Devon. Mrs Measures was the last person to shake hands
with him.
‘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.’
‘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.
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
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 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 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. _She_ interested
him because she was a little encyclopedia of knowledge, and had a most
retentive memory for chapter and verse, and _he_ 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.
‘I know that I am an awful duffer,’ said 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.’
‘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--’
But Hal put his hand over her mouth.
‘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?’
‘No, dear, I have never had the opportunity to learn.’
‘I will teach you, darling. What a pleasure it will be to me. For I
flatter myself that if I _do_ 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.’
‘You mustn’t be extravagant, dear Hal, to procure me luxuries. I can be
quite content without riding on horseback.’
‘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.’
‘What is that?’
‘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 the hounds myself. I should be so terribly anxious.’
‘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.’
‘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 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.’
‘Well, I will never spoil your pleasure in that way, Hal, for I know
how much you enjoy it.’
‘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.’
‘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.’
‘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. 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.’
‘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.’
‘You don’t know half the treasures I have to show you yet, Paula. I
hope you like dogs, my dear?’
‘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.’
‘And what became of it?’
Paula flushed.
‘You had better not ask me,’ she replied in a low voice.
‘That brute wouldn’t let you keep it?’ said Hal interrogatively.
‘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.’
‘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?’
‘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.’
‘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. _He_ is happy enough, there is no doubt of
that.’
‘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 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 _your
wife_--_I_, 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.’
‘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.’
‘Oh! never, _never_, Hal.’
‘But if anything _could_ rouse my jealous feelings again, it would be
to know that you had any greater _friend_ 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.’
‘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 assume towards me. She cannot feel
very cordially disposed, since my advent ousts her from the Hall.’
‘I won’t answer for what she _feels_, 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.’
‘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.
‘It will require tact, but I am determined it 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.’
‘Oh, Hal,’ sighed Paula, ‘sometimes I think, suppose I should bring
you into an atmosphere of strife and disunion, instead of peace and
happiness?’
‘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 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.’
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 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.
‘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 _unique_. 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.’
Paula could not answer him. A big ball rose 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.