CHAPTER XLVI

OVER A TEA-TABLE

Winefred accompanied her father to his lodgings. These were comfortable

and well-situated, spacious and elegantly furnished; clearly not chosen

with a view to economy.

He bowed and made her enter, with old-fashioned courtesy, and then

ordered tea.

A certain amount of constraint existed between them, and yet he had

lost much of his timidity of manner since he had been forced to avow

the nature of his relation to Jane. The Rubicon was passed. He had

dismissed his ships.

It may, however, be questioned whether even when shaken to the undoing

of his cravat and the loosening of his teeth he would have made the

admission but for two considerations.

In the first place, he had become warmly attached to his daughter,

of whom, moreover, he was vastly proud, so that he had felt the

deprivation when she had gone back to Axmouth; and secondly, he was

aware that he was afflicted with an incurable complaint, and the

thought of dying in solitude without a loving hand to smooth his pillow

filled him with dismay.

During the absence of Winefred he had thought much of this.

'Miss Jesse was wrong,' said he, 'in her allusion to my head of hair.

I do not wear a wig. I have my hair dressed by a French barber before

I leave the house, but it is my own hair. You may pull a lock if you

doubt my word. I am positively not so old as some persons are disposed

to make me. I may look a little aged――of late. I have had a trying

life; and recent troubles of mind――relative to what the doctors have

told me――have had their effect on me. May I ask you to favour me by

pouring out the tea?'

Presently he said, 'I like crumpets. They crunch like hard biscuits,

but have no deleterious effect on the teeth.'

'Are you fond of hard biscuits, father?'

'Of Abernethies I have always been fond. I even enjoyed a ship-biscuit

once, when the world was young, and when――when I first knew your

mother.' He sighed deeply.

'Were you thinking of her, papa?'

'To be honest, of Abernethy biscuits. I did relish them. I shall never

eat one again.'

'Why not?'

'Because my teeth are gone. I have at least some that are not my own.

Miss Jesse would have shaken them into my mouth on to my tongue――had I

not spoken. That, you see, would have been humiliating.'

'Father, you said something of being ill.'

'Yes, I am ill, but not very. That is to say I am threatened, but do

not suffer seriously at present. I do not like to think about it, still

less to speak of it――but to you it is another matter. You must know

about it. When I came here I had some hopes. But the doctors afford me

none. Let the subject drop. I have enough of that when alone, and at

night. Then it haunts me and will not let me rest. During the day, and

with company, I shake it off. I like crumpets. When I hear the crumpets

crackle it carries me back to the time when I ate Abernethies and had

no false teeth.'

'Tell me about your marriage with my mother,' said Winefred, desirous

of drawing him from crumpets and Abernethies to matters of more

enduring interest. 'Father, how was it that she did not take your name?'

'Well, well, my dear, the story is painful, but it must come out now.

The facts were these. We were married privately by a rogue of a parson

at St. Pancras Church at Rousdon. It is ruinous, but it had a rector,

who lived in Lyme, and did no duty, as there were no parishioners. I

do not think he was unfrocked. It would have been hardly worth the

bishop's while to do that, you see, as he did no duty, and there was no

roof on the church. For my sake, and at my request, the marriage was

kept secret. When young, your mother was a beautiful woman; you remind

me of her greatly. In fact you get your good looks from her.'

'But, father, why were you――――'

'I know what you would say. Why were we separated? You see the marriage

was not known, and I was given a place in the Foreign Office, and as

every one supposed that I was calculated by character and capacities to

get advancement in it I began to see that my marriage presented serious

difficulties.'

He began to fumble with the teaspoon at his tongue, and spoke

accordingly indistinctly.

'I mean this――that I feared it might prevent my preferment, and then

again it would alienate all my family from me. I had an aunt who was

wealthy, and she doted on me; but she was ambitious, and would not

have forgiven me. So I got your mother to keep our marriage dark, and

then――then――――'

'Then you were appointed Governor-General of Tierra del Fuego.'

'No――come――no. That was not really the case. I believe poor Jane――I

mean your mother――was led to think I had gone abroad, lest she should

come to town after me and make scenes. She had a violent temper.'

'So you parted with my mother for the sake of your prospects with an

aunt and for preferment in the Foreign Office?'

'I would not put it quite in that way. Of course they could not turn me

out because I had married your mother, but they would have seen that

she was not wholly qualified to shine in a Foreign Embassy. You see she

could speak neither French nor Chinese. You comprehend――it would have

caused difficulties, embarrassments.'

'But did you get an Embassy?'

'No, no; I remained in the office.'

'Then you threw her over for nothing!'

'No; not quite that. My aunt died a year ago at an advanced age,

and has left me very comfortably provided for. I have applied for a

pension, and am really in easy circumstances at present――now, just

at the time when――――' He shivered, and his weak mouth fell. 'It is

too tragic to contemplate. I did hope that the Bath waters might have

expelled the poison from my veins, but my disorder remains unarrested.

It may be rapid in its course, and my dissolution may be near, or it

may be slow. I cannot tell. The doctors give me very little hope, in

fact, to be candid, none at all. O Winefred, you will nurse me through

it?'

'Yes, father, and so will mother.'

'But she hates me. She can never forgive me――and then she is a violent

woman. She frightened me years ago. I dislike rough ways and strong

tempers. I always did at the time when I was young and strong. Now I

cannot endure the least roughness.'

'She is not rough, she is vastly tender. But her strong heart has had

its beatings stayed, and her ideas have become twisted about.'

'Ah, yes――she is a passionate woman.'

'She loves passionately, but has had her heart wounded and bruised.'

'Yes, I suppose she has suffered――so have I.'

'She has suffered, therefore she can have compassion.'

He remained silent, and shook his head dubiously.

'Tell me about yourself,' he said at last. No doubt he had undergone

stormy scenes with Jane that had frightened him, and left on him an

impression that could not be eradicated.

'What shall I tell you?' asked Winefred.

'About your youth, and where you lived, and how?'

'We got along, mother and I, as best we could, she hawking tapes and

needles, and I――collecting pebbles.'

'There was really no necessity for that.'

'We must live. We had a cottage on the cliffs, but it went to pieces as

the cliff cracked and made a chasm. So we were obliged to leave it, and

then we had a very bad time, for no one would take us in.'

'You should have gone into lodgings. Your mother had means.'

'Hardly any. One may earn a few pence by the sale of combs and laces,

thread and needles, but not much. And I was indeed proud if I got

ninepence for a cornelian.'

'I do not understand. Why did you go to that man――that captain――I do

not recall his name?'

'Oh, you mean Captain Rattenbury. He took us in one night when we were

in despair, wet to the bone, and had no shelter for our heads, and

every door was shut against us.'

'But if you had asked Olver Dench, he would have provided for you.'

'He! he is our worst enemy.'

'That cannot be.'

'He is. Mother cannot endure him. He does not love us.'

'I see no reason for this. He has been my paymaster.'

'What do you mean, father?'

'I have sent him money every quarter for your mother. I have done so

for eighteen or nineteen years.'

'You have sent him money!' exclaimed Winefred in amazement. 'I am

certain that my mother has received nothing.'

'Impossible that he can have withheld it!' said Mr. Holwood, really

aghast. 'Did your mother not tell you that she had an allowance from

me?'

'My mother hid nothing from me. At times, when we had sold nothing, we

really had not enough to eat. I am positive that she never had anything

from Olver Dench.'

Mr. Holwood beat his brow.

'I am innocent in this matter,' he said. 'Write to your mother and

explain. I am innocent indeed. I have wronged her in many ways, but

not in this. I sent her money when I could ill afford to part with it,

but I never failed to send regularly. Whenever my salary came in, I

transmitted a share to her before I spent anything on myself. But Olver

said――――' He hesitated, and looked down.

'What did Olver Dench say?'

'He――he did not speak well of your mother. He led me to――to think; but

I will enter into no particulars.'

'Olver is our mortal enemy. I do not know wherefore, unless it be that

he has been filching the money all these years. He hates mother, and he

dislikes me. If he has dared to speak against _her_, he shall be called

to account. There is one whom I can trust'――she held up her head――'one

who will take him by the throat and make him unsay every word.'

Mr. Holwood knew that she did not refer to himself, and he was humbled

at the thought that his child should look to another to vindicate her

mother's good name.

'No,' said Winefred, with heightened colour and sparkling eyes, and

speaking with vehemence, 'my dear mother has done nothing to forfeit

your esteem, nothing to dishonour your name. She has been poor, and has

huxtered tapes and packets of pins, and has trudged through rain and

mire, and there is none in all the country round who can say an ill

word against her that has in it a spice even of truth.'

'And she is now in poverty?'

Then, and not till this moment, did the recollection of the one great

and terrible fault committed by her mother recur to Winefred.

She suddenly dropped her head and covered her face with her hands.

Winefred: A Story of the Chalk Cliffs · 第 46 / 50 章