TWILIGHT TALKS
AUNT PATTY was as much astonished as I was to see Professor Faulkner
calmly walking in the garden as if he had never been away. But before
she had time to express her amazement Paulina caught sight of us and
shouted gaily:
"Ah, Mrs. Lucas, here is a surprise for you! The truant professor has
turned up at last!"
As she and her companion came smilingly to meet us, Paulina looked
little prepared to meet misfortune. She was in the brightest mood, and
began at once to rally her father on arriving before he was expected
and disappointing Miss Cottrell, who had driven into Chelmsford to
meet the train by which he usually returned. But I was only vaguely
conscious of what Pollie was saying and had no thought at that moment
for Mr. Dicks's painful position. The sight of Alan Faulkner threw me
into a state of nervous tremor which made me feel positively ill. My
heart throbbed painfully, my limbs trembled beneath me, and I felt an
absurd longing to run away and hide somewhere.
"You will forgive me for presenting myself in this unexpected fashion?"
Alan Faulkner was saying as he shook hands with my aunt. "I found
myself free to travel south sooner than I had hoped, and, though I did
write, my letter must have missed the post; at any rate, I have arrived
before it."
"It is doubtless lying in the Chelmsford post-office," said Aunt Patty;
"no one has been there to get letters this afternoon; but it does not
matter in the least, Mr. Faulkner—I am only too glad to see you. Your
room is quite ready for you, is it not, Nan?"
"Oh, yes," I responded in a high, clear voice, that surprised myself.
"'Aye ready' is our motto at 'Gay Bowers.' How are you, Mr. Faulkner?"
I purposely made my greeting as cool and careless as possible; but he
shook hands with me very heartily, and there was a look in his eyes
that arrested mine and held them fascinated for a long moment. That
look assured me that all his old friendliness had revived, and I read
more in it—something that I could not well define. My gaze dropped
beneath his and I turned quickly away; but my heaviness of heart was
gone.
"You look very tired, poppa," I heard Paulina say. "That wretched
business has given you a headache, I know. Why would you go to town
to-day? I don't believe your going made a bit of difference to the
business after all."
"You are right, Pollie," her father replied in a melancholy tone; "it
certainly did not."
"Ah! I knew it!" said Paulina triumphantly. "I told you so, if you
remember, but you would not listen to me."
"However mistaken your father has been, my dear, you must not scold
him now," interposed Aunt Patty, "he is too tired. The City of London
is not a desirable place on a broiling summer day. Let him rest in
peace till he has had his dinner—it should be ready in less than
half-an-hour. You will be glad of it, too, Mr. Faulkner."
"Oh, as for that," he replied, "I came up from Scotland by the night
train, and so had time for a comfortable luncheon ere I left town.
Moreover, Miss Dicks has refreshed me since my arrival with a cup of
tea, of which I was very glad after walking from the station."
I looked at Paulina. Her eyes were smiling with mischief as she glanced
at me.
"By the by," continued Alan Faulkner, turning to Mr. Dicks, "you must
have come by the same train as I. Where did you get to that I saw
nothing of you?"
Mr. Dicks's colour rose as he answered with some confusion that he
"guessed" he was in the back of the train, and he had loitered in the
fields on the way home. The next moment a diversion was created by the
arrival of the wagonette, with Miss Cottrell sitting within, forlorn
and agitated. Her surprise and excitement when she perceived that her
betrothed had arrived before her was ludicrous. Descending hastily from
the vehicle, she overwhelmed him with more questions than he could
possibly answer.
I saw Alan Faulkner's eyes gleam with amusement as he watched them,
and I felt sure that Paulina had told him of the relationship into
which these two had entered. Poor Miss Cottrell! How would she bear
the disappointment which fate had in store for her? I tried to feel as
sorry for her as I should, but my heart was dancing with joy as I ran
upstairs. What selfish wretches we are! How little we feel the sorrows
of others when our own happiness seems secure!
"Nan," cried Paulina, thrusting her head just inside my door and
looking the incarnation of mischief, "I had such a nice talk with the
Professor before you came home. Only think of my having to entertain
him for more than an hour! But we neither of us found the time long, I
can assure you."
I laughed and said I thought it a pity we had not stayed away a little
longer. I knew Paulina too well by this time for her attempt at teasing
me to have the least effect. I tried to sober myself by thinking of
the bad news Paulina must soon learn and how hard it would be for her
to face poverty; but I could not feel sad as I arranged my hair in the
most becoming way I knew and put on my prettiest blouse. Verily girls
are callous mortals.
No one watching the party that gathered round the table a little later
could have suspected that there was trouble in the air. Mr. Dicks was
certainly more quiet than usual, but his daughter and his fiancé talked
so much that his silence was not remarked. Miss Cottrell had recovered
from her perturbation, and she made us laugh by a vivid and droll
description of her various misgivings and emotions when she discovered
that the train had not brought Josiah Dicks.
Alan Faulkner did not say a great deal, but all that he said was worth
hearing, and he evinced such genuine satisfaction at being amongst us
once more—"at home," as he once expressed it to Aunt Patty's great
delight—that we all felt complimented.
When we rose from the table we all with one consent strolled into the
garden. It was not yet dusk, but the days were already shortening and
there was not sufficient light to make it worth while to begin a game.
Mr. Dicks, with his head thrust back and his hands in the pockets of
his coat, stalked off gloomily alone towards the apple trees. Miss
Cottrell, evidently surprised that she had received no invitation to
join him, stood hesitating on the edge of the lawn. After glancing with
a timid air, first to the right and then to the left, to see if any one
were observing her, she presently strolled after him.
"I am going for a walk," said Paulina, opening the side gate which led
into the meadow across which lay the field path to Greentree Park.
"Come, Nan. Oh, do you want to come too, Professor Faulkner?"
"If I may be permitted!" he said.
"Oh, well, we'll try to put up with you," was her rejoinder.
And we walked slowly along the narrow path beside the hedge. The grass
was long and damp and the path was barely wide enough for two, so Mr.
Faulkner had to walk behind us. But we only proceeded thus to the
end of the field, for there Paulina suddenly remembered that she had
forgotten something that she must say to Mrs. Lucas without more delay.
"It won't take me long to run back," she said; "if you two walk on
slowly, I dare say I shall overtake you by and by."
I proposed that we should turn back too; but it appeared that Mr.
Faulkner wanted to take a look into the park. He had not seen it since
the garden party was in contemplation, he said; and the reference
brought the blood into my cheeks.
So we strolled on along the quiet path, and he began telling me about
his future prospects. He had been summoned to Edinburgh to fill the
place of a friend, a college professor who was laid aside by illness.
He had remained there till the term ended. Meanwhile the former
professor had resigned his chair, finding that his health would not
permit him to continue to perform its duties, and Alan Faulkner had
learned on good authority that the post would probably be offered to
himself.
"Will you take it?" I asked.
"I think so—indeed, I should be thankful to accept it," he said. "The
work is just what I love. It would be a grand opportunity for me. And
in Edinburgh, too! Ah, Miss Nan, you do not know what the very name of
Edinburgh means to a Scotsman."
"I can imagine that it is very dear," I said, conscious as I spoke of
a curious, heartsick sensation of being left out in the cold. He had
seemed so happy with us at "Gay Bowers." Had he all the while been
yearning for Scotland?
"You will soon be leaving us then, I suppose?" was my next remark.
"Not until the autumn," he said. "You may be sure I shall be in no
hurry to quit 'Gay Bowers.' I have been so happy there. It has been
more of a home to me than any place since I lost my mother."
"But you like Edinburgh better?"
He laughed as he replied:
"Indeed, I do not. Edinburgh is dear to me for its beauty and its
associations; but I never had a home there. I studied there for a while
before I went to Cambridge."
After that we walked on for some moments in silence. There were so
many things I had wanted to say to Alan Faulkner, yet, now I had the
opportunity, I felt tongue-tied. I stole a glance at him, and he looked
so grave that I began to wonder what he could be thinking about. Then
I conceived the idea that I was boring him, and almost wished that
Paulina would come back. But presently, he startled me by saying:
"Miss Nan, I have a confession to make, and I want to ask your
forgiveness."
"My forgiveness?" I repeated.
"Yes, for I wronged you grievously in my thoughts that day when I
presumed to warn you, forsooth, against the fascinations of Ralph
Marshman."
"Ah, yes, you did!" I cried eagerly. "It hurt me not a little that you
should think he was anything to me."
"I can't forgive myself for being so foolish," he said. "Now that Miss
Dicks has enlightened me a little, I see what a stupid blunderer I was.
No wonder you were angry with me."
"Oh, Paulina!" I said inwardly. "So this is the result of your long and
interesting talk!"
Aloud I said, "It was unreasonable of me to be angry. No doubt it was
easy for you to make such a mistake."
"Well, there is some excuse for me," he said, "for when I overtook
Marshman that night, after he scrambled over the wall in front of us,
and demanded an explanation of his extraordinary conduct, he confessed
to me jestingly that he was smitten with Mrs. Lucas's pretty niece, and
had committed the trespass with the hope of getting a private talk with
her."
"How could he say that? Agneta is not Aunt Patty's niece," I exclaimed,
forgetting how much I was revealing.
"Just so," he said with a smile. "Now you see how I was misled; and
when you reproached me so indignantly with misjudging another, I never
doubted that he had completely beguiled you."
"Oh, but you could not have thought that I blamed you for misjudging
him," I protested. "Of course, I was indignant at your deeming me
likely to be attracted by such a man."
"But I did think that," he said. "I confess to the most crass
stupidity, and I humbly beg your forgiveness. It may soften your just
resentment to know that I have not gone unpunished. I have suffered
intensely from that mistake. It threw a shadow over all my life."
"And when you saw me on the platform at Liverpool Street on that
afternoon when I ought to have been at the garden party—what did you
think then?" I demanded. "Some dreadful thing, of course."
"Don't ask me! I imagined that you had come to meet Marshman. I had
seen him there—I was watching him, indeed. To tell you the truth, I
went up to town that day on purpose to get information concerning him,
for I meant to save you from deception if it were possible."
"How could you imagine such things!" I cried. "Oh, I don't think I can
forgive you."
Then we both laughed; but the next moment he was holding both my hands
in his and speaking with great seriousness. I cannot write what he
said, though the words are for ever engraved on my heart. They were
to the effect that he had suffered so much in thinking me foolish and
deluded, because I had become so dear to him, and he had set me in his
heart far above every other woman he had ever known.
The memory of that evening will ever be sacred to me. I cannot dwell
upon it here. I will only say that when at last we walked back to "Gay
Bowers" we were two of the happiest people upon earth. The mists of
doubt that had gathered between us were for ever gone, and in their
place had come the most perfect understanding. I had promised Alan
Faulkner that some day, if my parents gave their consent, I would be
his wife.
For the present we guarded the secret of our happiness; but I think
Paulina guessed what had come about. She fairly hugged me when we said
"good-night," and her manner was so gleeful that it was plain she knew
nothing yet of the cloud that overhung her future.
Alone in my room, I did not feel in the least inclined to sleep. Aunt
Patty had hurried us upstairs under the impression that every one was
very tired. I stepped into my favourite nook on the top of the porch,
and, sitting down, gave myself up to the delight of recalling all that
had passed between me and Alan. It was pleasant to sit there, for the
air was deliciously cool, and sweet with the perfume of flowers. Below,
the garden lay fair in the moonlight. At some distance, moving to and
fro on the path that ran beneath the boundary wall, were two figures
which I knew to be those of Alan and Colonel Hyde, enjoying a smoke
before they retired to rest. All was quiet about me when, presently, I
was aware of voices coming from the shelter of the porch, above which I
sat.
"So, Kate," said the high, nasal accents of Josiah Dicks, "you don't
mean to give me up because I've lost my money? I fear you're deciding
too hastily, my dear. You must take time to consider what it means.
It's not easy being poor."
"I know it will be hard for you and Paulina; but I'm not afraid for
myself, and I need no time to make up my mind," said the voice of
Miss Cottrell. "I've got enough to live on, and it's all invested on
good security. It will be a tight fit for three, but we'll make it do
somehow till better times come."
"No, no, Kate," protested Mr. Dicks, "I really can't consent to that.
What's yours is your own. I ain't going to sponge on you, if I know it.
I meant to give you a happy, comfortable life by making you my wife. I
wouldn't have minded spending any money on you; but now I can't give
you the kind of home you'd like, and you had best let me go. Josiah
Dicks is no catch for any woman now."
"That's how you look at it, but I think differently, and I mean to hold
you to your promise to marry me," replied Miss Cottrell. "Now, listen
to me, Josiah. I'll own that the thought of your wealth was agreeable
to me. I have always made too much of money and position. I liked
the idea of having a smart house and smart clothes, and driving in a
smart buggy, and all the rest of the things you described; but I did
not agree to be your wife just for that. I have been a lonely woman
for some years now, and I liked the idea of having a good man for my
husband. I wanted some one to love and care for, and I meant to be a
good wife to you, and as much of a mother to Paulina as she would let
me be. It is a small thing to mention, but I love you, Josiah. I am
yours, and all I have is yours, if only you will take it."
"Kate, Kate, you must not talk like that!" exclaimed Mr. Dicks in tones
that seemed tremulous with emotion. "You make me ashamed of myself, you
do indeed. The truth is, I don't deserve to be loved like that. I'm not
a good man. There's been ugly bits in my history I would not choose
for you to know. I am puzzled what you can see to care for in me. I'll
allow I thought 'twas my money drew you. Well, if anything can make a
man good it is to be loved by such a woman as you, and, if you will
stick to me, I'll try my hardest to make it worth your while. Josiah
Dicks is ready to begin the world again, and, please God, he'll win his
way up yet!"
But I heard no more. I sprang from my seat and hastened inside my
room, ashamed of myself for having even for so short a time played the
part of an eavesdropper. Miss Cottrell's natural eloquence was too
enthralling, and my heart at that hour was quick to sympathise with the
feeling that moved her. But I should never have believed it of her!
How easy it Is to misjudge others! Miss Cottrell's faults were on the
surface; beneath were sterling qualities of heart and mind. I found
myself wondering whether it was not worth while for Josiah Dicks to
lose his wealth in order to discover the treasure he possessed in this
woman's love.