A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT.
There was an awful pause. Such at least it seemed to poor Mrs Mildmay,
who, now that she was not called upon to act for herself, and felt under
the protection of her husband, dared to tremble! Then came Lady Myrtle's
reply, short, cold, and decisive.
'I deny it,' she said.
Colonel Mildmay did not speak.
The old lady glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on the table beside
which he was seated; he tapped it lightly with a paper-cutter which he
held in his hand. And after a moment's waiting she spoke again.
'I know what you refer to,' she said. 'It would be nonsense to pretend I
do not. And I can--even--understand how to you it may seem that the
claim you allude to exists. But, if you have talked together about
these--these people, as no doubt you have done, has not Eugenia told you
what I have told her, that on a certain day my father and I shook
ourselves free from the bonds which had become shackles of shame; that
from that time Bernard Harper and all belonging to him ceased to be more
to us than any stranger we might brush against in the street?'
Colonel Mildmay raised his head and looked at her quietly.
'It could not be done; the bonds do exist and must exist,' he said. 'The
great thing is that, however cruelly they may have torn and wounded you
in the past, they may now be to you a cause of happiness and
satisfaction.'
But Lady Myrtle shook her head.
'I will never acknowledge even the possibility of my recognising these
descendants of my former brother as anything to me,' she said. And the
quietness with which she spoke was very impressive. 'I have given them
assistance because I believe them to be worthy people in sore need. I
may even do so again if you tell me their need continues. But that is
all. I should be false to my dead father if I did otherwise.
'Still, the late Lord Elvedon--your father, I mean--looked forward to
his _elder_ son's children being reinstated,' Colonel Mildmay ventured
to say. 'Why then, in the actual circumstances of his _younger_
grandchildren being to the full as worthy and in far greater need, why
treat them so differently?'
Lady Myrtle hesitated, for half a second only, but even that was
something.
'My father could not have contemplated the _possibility_ of Bernard's
descendants being--of their wiping out his disgrace,' she said at last
confusedly.
'Exactly,' Colonel Mildmay replied quickly. 'And it was only natural.
But as he did _not_ contemplate a state of things which has actually
come to pass, how can his directions affect you with regard to these
facts?'
Lady Myrtle again shook her head. She had grown very pale, but otherwise
she was completely self-controlled.
'I cannot argue in that way. I do not even pretend to be logical,' she
said. 'I can only repeat--so it is. So now you understand. If I did not
leave that part of my property which I conscientiously believe to be at
my own disposal to the one I have chosen--the child who it seemed to me
had been sent to brighten in some measure the loneliness of my old age;'
and here her firm clear voice trembled, 'then--my will must stand as it
is, and all destined for Jacinth, and in a sense for you yourselves,
shall go to the two hospitals I have selected as the most worthy of
help. I will have no compromises, no half measures.'
Colonel Mildmay bowed.
'Then let it be so,' he said. 'It is certainly not for me to dictate to
you, dear Lady Myrtle.'
She seemed a little perplexed by his manner.
'Why should I give in to you?' she said inconsequently. 'Why should I
not leave my fortune to Jacinth all the same? Why do you take for
granted that I shall not do so? should she be punished for your--your
obstinacy and quixotry?' and in spite of herself a smile crept over the
old lady's face.
'I do not take it for granted,' said Colonel Mildmay. 'I know that you
would not act towards Jacinth in such a way as to place her in
opposition to her parents. I know that you respect our way of viewing
the matter, however you may disagree with it.'
Lady Myrtle seemed mollified.
'You judge me rightly,' she said. 'If one feeling is stronger than
another in me, it is respect for parental authority and influence. You
are right. I would not so act to your child as to sow discord and
disunion between her and those nearest and dearest to her after I am
gone. But, let me ask you one thing--is your present decision quite
irreversible?'
Colonel Mildmay sat silent for a minute considering deeply.
'Yes,' he said; 'I do not see any choice. I cannot take the London
appointment--to live in reality, my dear lady, on your bounty. For that
is what it would be. And even if such a position had been possible for
me--and I confess I cannot conceive its being so--still less possible
would it be now that you know our mind as to the ultimate disposal of
things, and that we have been forced to thwart your more than generous,
your unprecedented goodness to us.'
'Then you will go to Barmettle?'
Colonel Mildmay bent his head.
'Ah well,' said Lady Myrtle, 'another dream vanished!'
Mrs Mildmay started up at this.
'Oh, dear Lady Myrtle, dear, dear friend,' she said, and the tears were
in her eyes, 'don't speak like that. I cannot bear it. You say there can
be no sort of compromise, but surely there can be of one kind; you will
not, you cannot expect us to leave off looking to you and feeling to you
as our best and dearest friend?'
And she threw her arms round the old lady as Francie might have done,
and was not repulsed.
'You will let me have Jacinth sometimes?' whispered Lady Myrtle.
'Of course, of course; whenever you like and as much as you like,' said
Mrs Mildmay eagerly.
'I will not be unreasonable,' the old lady said with one of the
half-wistful smiles that were so touching. 'Even if--if everything had
been going to be as I hoped, I would never have wished or expected
anything which could have interfered with her home ties and duties. And
I need scarcely say I will never come upon this subject that we have
been discussing, with her. I will leave it entirely to you, her parents,
to tell her what you think right, though I own I should like her to
realise how I have been thinking of her.'
[Illustration: 'Ah well!' said Lady Myrtle, 'another dream vanished!']
'That she certainly shall,' exclaimed Mrs Mildmay impulsively. And
though a moment afterwards she was tempted to murmur to herself 'at all
costs,' she did not repent of her promise. 'It would not be fair to Lady
Myrtle for Jacinth to be told nothing,' she reflected. 'And scarcely
indeed fair to the child herself. For I cannot but believe she will see
it all as we do.'
So that afternoon Colonel Mildmay wrote to accept the appointment
offered him up at gloomy, smoky Barmettle in the dreary north country.
'I doubt if we have done much to forward the poor Harpers' cause,' said
his wife as she watched him closing and sealing the big blue official
envelope.
'Very possibly not,' he replied calmly. 'But we have, I hope and
believe, done _right_. And so we must not feel over much concern for the
poor Harpers' future any more than for that of our own children, my dear
Eugenia.'
And though Mrs Mildmay agreed with him, she was human enough, and woman
enough, to sigh a little at certain visions of what might have been,
which _would_ intrude themselves!
'But what,' she began again after a little pause, 'what are we to say to
Jacinth?'
It is to be confessed that Colonel Mildmay's reply was not quite so
ready this time.
'We must consider well about that,' he said. 'Of course we must tell her
soon about Barmettle. It would not be treating her fairly, for she is a
remarkably sensible girl, and has behaved excellently in rather
difficult circumstances. Alison's little house and odd ways must have
been somewhat trying after the liberal easy-going life at Stannesley. It
would not be treating Jacinth as she deserves, not to take her into our
confidence as to our plans.'
'And the mere mention of Barmettle will lead on to the whole,' said Mrs
Mildmay. 'Frank, you must help me to put it to her wisely. I fear,
though very little has been said about it, that Jassie has an intense
dislike to the idea of Barmettle; and I fear still more, that in spite
of Lady Myrtle's good sense and extreme wish to cause no trouble, she
has somehow or other allowed some hint of her intentions to escape her.'
Colonel Mildmay looked very grave at this; graver than he had yet done.
'Jacinth is extremely quick,' he said, 'and notwithstanding her quiet
undemonstrative manner I suspect that she has a very lively imagination.
But surely all she has got in her head is only childish; looking forward
to long visits here and a continuance of Lady Myrtle's kindness? As
regards Barmettle, I have no doubt she would prefer my taking the London
appointment, but she is sensible; we only need to put it to her.'
'I hope so,' said Mrs Mildmay with a sigh. 'But the whole is so
complicated: she is prejudiced against the Harpers; just the opposite of
Frances.'
'That _is_ unfortunate,' said Colonel Mildmay. But after a moment's
silence he spoke again more cheerfully. 'We must not spoil Jacinth,' he
said. 'If she has been led to cherish any brilliant hopes, the sooner
she gives them up the better. I shall be sorry for her disappointment,
but I am sure she is not really selfish. If she sees that you and I are
happier--infinitely happier--as things are, she will not take it to
heart. And it may not be necessary to say much; not to enter into
mercenary details, to a child like her.'
'I hope so,' said Mrs Mildmay again. But again her sigh somewhat belied
her words.
The very next day brought the dreaded opportunity. Some little allusion
was made to Colonel Mildmay's intention of running up to London again
the following week.
'Shall you have any commissions for me, Lady Myrtle?' he said lightly.
The old lady shook her head, but without her usual smile.
'I think not, Colonel Mildmay, thank you,' she said. 'I _had_ thought of
asking you to see my agent about my house in Brook Street. The present
tenant's lease expires nine months hence, and I must make up my mind
what I am going to do.'
'I fear I am not very _au fait_ of such matters,' he replied. 'But I
could at least hear what the agent has to say more satisfactorily than
by letter. So pray let me call; give me all your instructions. I should
be more than delighted to be of any use, you must know,' he ended
earnestly.
Lady Myrtle seemed pleased.
'Thank you,' she said. 'Well, yes then; I will tell you what I want to
know.'
This conversation took place at luncheon. That afternoon Jacinth sought
her mother in her own room.
'Mamma,' she said, 'are you busy? May I talk to you a little?'
Mrs Mildmay laid down her pen.
'I was writing to Marmy,' she said, 'but I have plenty of time. What is
it, dear? I am glad to have a little quiet talk together. I have been
wishing for it, too.'
But Jacinth scarcely seemed to listen.
'Mamma,' she began again, somewhat irrelevantly it might have seemed.
'Brook Street isn't a _very_ grand part of London, is it? At least all
the houses in it are not tremendously grand, are they? I was thinking
about Lady Myrtle's house. Couldn't it be arranged for _us_ to be her
tenants? I'm sure she would like it if she thought we would. Mightn't I
say something about it to her? She likes me to say whatever I think of,
but I thought--for such a thing as a _house_, perhaps I had better ask
you first.'
'But, my dearest child, we don't want any house in London,' said Mrs
Mildmay with a smile which she strove to make unconstrained. 'You
forget, dear, the choice was never between Barmettle and _London_, but
between Barmettle and India again, and'----
'But mamma,' interrupted Jacinth, 'please answer my question first. Is
Brook Street very grand? Would a house there be out of the question for
us, even if we--if we had one there for nothing?'
'Yes; unless we had another thousand a year at least, we could not
possibly live there on our income with any comfort or consistency,' Mrs
Mildmay replied quietly.
The girl's face fell.
'A thousand a year! that's a good deal,' she said. 'I had thought'----
'But why worry yourself about things that can never be, dear Jassie?'
said her mother. 'We were going to tell you--even your Aunt Alison does
not know yet--that it is all decided, and oh, I am so thankful that the
long separation is over at last. Your father wrote yesterday to accept
the Barmettle appointment.'
Jacinth grew scarlet, then very, very pale.
'Mamma,' she exclaimed, and the low repression in her tone was more
unnatural--more alarming, I had almost said--in one so young, than any
even violent ebullition of temper. 'Mamma, it _can't_ be true. You are
saying it to tease me. You--you and papa would never have settled it
without telling me, without consulting Lady Myrtle, after all her
goodness?'
'No,' replied Mrs Mildmay, arming herself for the contest by a resolute
determination not to lose her self-control, however it might be tried;
'no, though a little reflection would show you that you should have more
trust in your parents, dear Jacinth; it was _not_ done without
consulting our kind old friend. And however she may regret it, I _know_
she respects your father's decision.'
Jacinth looked up eagerly; a reaction of hope came over her.
'Mamma,' she said breathlessly, 'believe me, I don't mean to be either
disrespectful or distrustful, but did Lady Myrtle say nothing against
it? Is she perhaps going to do so when--when she has thought everything
over?'
'She did say everything she could; she did use the strongest arguments
she had: but she could not but see that your father's _motives_ were
right, and so she saw it must be as he said,' replied Mrs Mildmay.
A harder look crept over Jacinth's face; the eager, almost nervous,
anxiety died out of it.
'There is something about all this that I do not understand,' she said.
'Unless you and papa mean to treat me as a baby, I think I have a right
to know. I think Lady Myrtle would say so.'
Mrs Mildmay felt much perplexed. Any approach to diplomacy, anything but
perfect candour and frankness, was so foreign to her nature, that it was
difficult for her not at once to speak out and explain the whole. But
then, if she did so, she might be only sowing seeds of future
bitterness. It was improbable, to say the least, that Jacinth had
realised in any definite way Lady Myrtle's intentions with regard to
her, seeing that the old lady had not announced them to her.
'All she can know is only that Lady Myrtle meant to do _something_,'
reflected Jacinth's mother. 'It would be for her happiness, and for that
of us all, that she should never know more.'
Jacinth saw the trouble in her mother's face.
'Mamma,' she said, 'if you won't speak to me openly, I will ask Lady
Myrtle herself.'
Mrs Mildmay flushed.
'Jassie,' she said quietly, 'you do not mean it, but your tone sounds
almost like a threat--to me--to your mother?' And in spite of herself,
her voice trembled a little.
But still Jacinth repeated coldly, 'I think I have a right to know.'
At that moment the door opened, and to Mrs Mildmay's immense relief her
husband entered.
'What is the matter?' he asked quickly. 'Am I interrupting you?'
'On the contrary,' said his wife, 'I am very glad you have come. Jacinth
is, as I half feared she would be, exceedingly upset by the news about
Barmettle, and she seems to think we have not treated her with the
confidence she deserves.'
'You cannot feel that, when I tell you that my decision was only made
yesterday,' said her father to Jacinth.
'Yes. I think you might have--have consulted me a little before making
it,' the girl replied. 'It is something to me personally; to have to
live at a place like that now I am nearly grown up.'
She seemed to be purposely emphasising the selfish part of her
dissatisfaction out of a kind of reckless defiance.
'Do you quite understand that it was a choice between this appointment
and an indefinite return to India?' said Colonel Mildmay.
'I understand that you think so. But I don't see it. There was the
London thing. And even if not, I would rather have had India.'
'No, no, Jassie, don't do yourself injustice,' exclaimed her mother.
'Not when you think of the risk to your father's health.'
Jacinth hesitated.
'But there _was_ a choice,' she said; and now there was a touch of
timidity in her voice.
Colonel Mildmay considered; they were approaching the crucial point, and
he took his resolution.
'No, Jacinth,' he said. 'To my mind, as an honourable man, there was no
choice. I should have forfeited for ever my own self-respect had I
agreed to Lady Myrtle's proposal.'
And then he rapidly, but clearly, put before her the substance of their
old friend's intentions and wishes, and his reasons for refusing to fall
in with them.
'Lady Myrtle is too good a woman to sow discord in a family,' he said,
'between a child and her parents. And it was impossible for us to
approve of the apportionment of her property she proposed, knowing that
there exist at this very time those who _have_ a claim on her, who most
thoroughly deserve the restoration of what should have been theirs
always; who have suffered, indeed, already only too severely for the sin
and wrong-doing of another.'
Jacinth started, and the lines of her face hardened again.
'I thought it was that,' she exclaimed. 'Those people--they are at the
bottom of it, then.'
'Jacinth!' said her mother.
'I beg your pardon, mamma,' said the girl quickly. 'It must sound very
strange for me to speak like that; but, you don't know how I have been
teased about these Harpers. And mamma, Lady Myrtle doesn't look upon
them as you and papa do, so why should you expect me to do so? Do you
suppose she will leave _them_ anything she would have left us--me?'
'Very likely not,' said Colonel Mildmay.
'Then for everybody's sake, why not have left things as Lady Myrtle
meant? I--we, I mean,' and Jacinth's face crimsoned, 'could have been
good to them; it would have been better for them in the end.'
'Do you suppose they would have accepted help--money, to put it
coarsely--from strangers?' said Colonel Mildmay. 'It is not _help_ they
should have, but actual practical restoration of what should be theirs.
And even supposing our decision does them no good, can't you see,
Jacinth, that anything else would be _wrong_?'
'No,' said Jacinth, 'I don't see it.'
'Then I am sorry for you,' said her father coldly.
'I know,' said Jacinth, 'that Lady Myrtle likes things one way or
another. I suppose she will give us up altogether now. I suppose she
will leave off caring anything about me. You think very badly of me,
papa, I can see; you think me mercenary and selfish and everything
horrid; but--it _wasn't_ only for myself, and it isn't only because of
what she was doing for us, and meant to do for us. I have got to love
Lady Myrtle very much, and I shall feel dreadfully the never seeing her
any more, and--and'----
Here, not altogether to her mother's distress, Jacinth broke down and
began to sob bitterly. Mrs Mildmay got up from her seat, and came close
to where the girl was sitting by the table.
'My poor dear child,' she said, 'we have never thought you selfish in
_that_ sort of way.'
'No,' agreed her father; 'that you may believe. You have had of late too
much responsibility thrown upon you, and it has given you the feeling
that the whole fortunes of your family depended upon you in some sense.
Be content to be a child a little longer, my Jacinth, and to trust your
parents. And there is no need for you to anticipate any change with Lady
Myrtle. She will care for you, and for us all, as much as ever--more
perhaps; and as much time as it will be right for you to spend away from
your own home, you shall have our heartiest consent to spending with
her. If you can in any way give her pleasure--and I know you can--it
will be the very least we can do in return for her really wonderful
goodness to us.'
'I should like to see her; to be with her sometimes,' said Jacinth,
whose sobs had now calmed down into quiet crying. 'But I don't
want--once we go away to that place--I don't want ever to see Robin
Redbreast again. Ever since'--and here she had to stop a moment--'ever
since that first day when we passed it with Uncle Marmy, I have had a
sort of feeling to this house--a kind of presentiment. I can't bear to
think of its going to strangers, or--or people that know nothing about
Lady Myrtle. And very likely, if she leaves all she has to big hospitals
or something like that, very likely this place will be sold.'
'It may be so,' said Colonel Mildmay; and he added with a smile, 'I wish
for your sake I were rich enough to buy it, my poor dear child.'
So Jacinth's castles in the air were somewhat rudely destroyed. There
was but one consolation to her. Lady Myrtle was even more loving than
hitherto, though she said nothing about the collapse of her plans. For
Mrs Mildmay gave her to understand that matters, so far as was fitting,
had been explained to her elder daughter.
'Humph!' said the old lady. 'That seals _my_ lips. For of course I
cannot express disapproval of her parents to the child.'
But her tenderness and marked affection went some way to soothe the
smarting of the girl's sore feelings.
'She understands me far better than papa and mamma do,' thought Jacinth.
'If they meant me to see everything through their eyes, they shouldn't
have left me away from them all these years.'
Still a curious strain of pride in her father's stern honesty, in his
utter disinterestedness, now and then mingled with her feelings of
disappointment. She could not help feeling proud of him! Nevertheless
the tears were many and bitter which Jacinth shed when the last night of
their stay at Robin Redbreast came.