The Linnet's Cage.
Mrs. Bloxam had had no reason to regret the assent which she had given
to the proposition made to her by her ex-pupil Gertrude Lloyd. The
arrangement had turned out successfully, and the far-seeing astute
lady, who had had quite enough of school-keeping considerably before
she saw her way to the abandonment of that uncongenial occupation,
soon began to see visions and dream dreams of a very different and
much more enjoyable kind of life in the future. For a calm person, not
to be taken in by appearances, and habitually distrustful of first
impressions, Mrs. Bloxam may be said to have been astonished when she
beheld her former pupil, after the lapse of two years and a half,
during which Gertrude had been learning experience in a school which,
though always severe, was sufficiently varied; and Mrs. Bloxam, when
she remembered the girl at all, thought of her only as the clever and
handsome pupil, who had outwitted her indeed (but that was a feat
which she was not likely to overrate--she never imposed any magnified
notion of her own vigilance upon herself), but who was not likely to
turn out in any way remarkable. Gertrude's letter had struck her
rather forcibly as being out of the common way; apart from the unusual
nature of the circumstances which had given rise to it, its coolness,
firmness, and businesslike precision were not common in the
schoolmistress's experience of feminine correspondence; and there was
nothing in her previous knowledge of Gertrude's intellect and
character which would have naturally led her to take such a
manifestation of those qualities for granted. Mrs. Bloxam thought a
good deal about Gertrude's letter in the interval between the receipt
of it and the arrival of its writer. It occurred to her that the girl
who took her life into her own management, after the clear cool-headed
fashion in which it was plain that Gertrude was acting, must have been
rather a difficult wife to manage, and not a particularly safe one to
deceive and injure. From thinking of Gertrude as the wife and the
enemy of Gilbert Lloyd, it was an easy transition to think of Gertrude
as possibly her (Mrs. Bloxam's) enemy--easy, not pleasant--and
significantly encouraging to that lady, in the resolution she had
formed, to treat Gertrude in all respects well, and with loyalty. Mrs.
Bloxam conceived, in the course of her cogitations, a very reasonable
certainty that Gertrude had developed into a kind of person, who, if
she made up her mind to discover the secret of her birth, parentage,
and previous position, would inevitably do so, or make herself
extremely disagreeable in the process of failure. When this notion
associated itself with the recollection of the comfortable sums of
money which she had continued to receive for Gertrude's benefit, when
Gertrude was absent and her fate unknown, Mrs. Bloxam congratulated
herself on the course she had adopted, and made such virtuous
resolutions that she would advance Gertrude's interests in every way
within her power, that she soon succeeded in compounding with her
conscience for the--indiscretion.
When Gertrude made her appearance at the Vale House, Mrs. Bloxam's
anticipations were more than fulfilled. The young woman's easy and
assured grace of manner, the calmness with which she inducted herself
into the place which she had assigned to herself in the establishment,
and the conviction with which she inspired Mrs. Bloxam that, if she
desired to possess her confidence, she must patiently await the time
and manner of her accordance of it, at her own will, were simply
inimitable. The schoolmistress contemplated the girl with wonder and
secret admiration. She had seen so much of the vapidity, the
frivolity, the dependence, and the littleness of feminine human
nature, that (as she did not care for Gertrude sufficiently to be
alarmed by the dangerous side of her complex character) it was a
positive pleasure to her to observe a disposition so exceptional. In
person she was also changed and much improved, though Mrs. Bloxam was
not slow to notice the discordant expression which occasionally
deprived her face of its youthfulness by lending it an intensity
beyond her years.
Gertrude Lloyd had been settled at the Vale House for more than a
week, and had entered on her duties with a grave alacrity which
surprised Mrs. Bloxam, whose recollection of her as a desultory pupil
had left her unprepared to find the girl an active and conscientious
teacher, before she accorded to Mrs. Bloxam any more confidence
than that which her letter had conveyed. When so much time had
elapsed, she informed Mrs. Bloxam that she intended to commence her
singing-lessons, and invited that lady to be present at the trial of
her voice. The masters who attended at the Vale House were all of a
superior class, and Gertrude was satisfied to abide by the opinion
which Signor da Capo should express concerning her musical capacity.
The testimony of that dark-eyed and sentimental exile was most
reassuring; he had rarely heard such a voice as Miss Lambert's,
and it was perfectly fresh and uninjured, susceptible of the
highest training. He could conscientiously assure Miss Lambert no
concert-singer in London possessed a finer organ, not even
Mademoiselle Roulade, who was just then making such a sensation at the
private concerts of the nobility--she was quite the rage at Carabas
House in particular.
Miss Grace Lambert was not interested in Mademoiselle Roulade, and cut
the worthy signor's raptures rather unceremoniously short; but he
produced a second edition of them for the benefit of Mrs. Bloxam, when
Miss Lambert had left the room, and evinced so much curiosity
concerning Miss Lambert's future plans, throwing out hints of the
advantage to be derived from the judicious promulgation of reports as
_avant-coureurs_ of a _débutante_, that Mrs. Bloxam felt convinced of
his sincerity, and forthwith began to form a pleasant scheme for the
future in her fancy.
On the same evening Gertrude requested audience of Mrs. Bloxam in her
private sitting-room; and having been cordially welcomed, briefly
expressed her appreciation of the kindness with which she had been
received at the Vale House, and asked Mrs. Bloxam's opinion of what
Signor da Capo had said. Mrs. Bloxam thought nothing could be more
satisfactory, nothing more encouraging; and if Gertrude really
intended to become a public singer--
"I do intend it," interrupted Gertrude, with a slight expressive
frown; "understand this once for all, Mrs. Bloxam, my mind is quite
made up. I may succeed, I may fail; but at least I will make the
attempt; and I feel that I _shall_ succeed. I am confident this will
not be a losing speculation for you."
"My dear girl," said Mrs. Bloxam,--and she said it quite sincerely,
with true interest: there had been a fascination for her about the
girl since her return, a charm partly arising from the uncommonness of
her disposition and manners, and partly from the elder woman's dim
perception of the pitifulness of her story,--"I am not thinking about
that. I am thinking about you, and of what you must have suffered, to
have made you turn your back so resolutely on your past life. You are
so young, Gertrude."
"Grace, if you please," said the younger woman, and she touched Mrs.
Bloxam's hand for a moment. In the slight caress there was a little
softening, and the other took advantage of it.
"You may trust me, my dear, you may indeed," she said. "I don't
pretend to be disinterested in many of the occurrences of my life; I
could not afford to be so--no woman can who has her bread to earn--and
I have not acted disinterestedly towards you; but I will if you will
trust me."
An unusual expression of gentleness was in Mrs. Bloxam's face, and her
shallow shifty blue eyes grew almost deep and almost steady under the
influence of unwonted feeling.
Gertrude sat still before her, with downcast eyes. A little interval
of silence passed, and then she looked up, and spoke.
"I will trust you, Mrs. Bloxam, as much as I can ever trust anyone in
this world. I am separated for ever, of my own free will, by my own
irrevocable decision, from my husband. I cannot tell you why in more
than general terms. Gilbert Lloyd is a bad man--I am not a
particularly good woman; but I could not live with him, and I trust I
may never see him again. My life is at my own disposal now; I have no
friend but you."
There was no tremor in her voice, no quiver through her slight frame,
as this young girl gave so terrible an account of herself.
"But if he claims you?" said Mrs. Bloxam.
"He will never claim me," replied Gertrude; and there was that in her
voice and in her look which carried conviction to her hearer's mind.
"He is more than dead to me--he is as though he had never lived."
"My poor child, how wretched you must be!" exclaimed Mrs. Bloxam,
almost involuntarily.
"I am not wretched," said Gertrude; and again she frowned slightly,
and again her face looked old, and her voice sounded hard. "I feel
that there has been a chapter of misery and of degradation in the
story of my life; but I have closed it for ever. I will never speak of
it again, I will never think of it again, if by any effort of my will
I can keep my mind clear of it. I am young, strong, clever, and
ambitious; and I am not the first woman who has made a tremendous
mistake, and incurred a dreadful penalty, in the outset of her life;
but I daresay few, if any, have had such a chance of escape from the
consequences as I have. I will take the fullest advantage of it. And
now, Mrs. Bloxam, we will talk of this no more. Let that man's name be
as dead to you and me as all feeling about him is dead in my heart for
ever; and help me to make a new line in life for myself."
Mrs. Bloxam looked at her silently, and sighed. Then she said:
"You are a strange young woman, and have suffered some great wrongs, I
am sure. It shall be as you wish, my dear, and I will try to forget
that you ever were anything but Grace Lambert. And now let us talk of
affairs--yours and mine, if you like; for I have something to tell
you, and to consult you about."
Gertrude looked round her, and smiled. The scene of their interview
and its associations were strangely familiar to her. It seemed as
though it were only the other day she had sat in that same room,
summoned to a consultation with Mrs. Bloxam about the expenditure of
her quarter's allowance, and the fashion of her summer costume. The
same bureau lay open, disclosing a collection of tradesmen's books and
bills of well-known aspect. Gertrude knew in which of the little
drawers the reserve of prospectuses, in which the innumerable and
incomparable advantages of the Vale House were set forth, was kept. A
low chair, with a straight, upright, uncompromising back, whereon a
very frosty-looking bunch of yellow dahlias had been worked in harsh
worsted by a grateful pupil, stood in the position it had always
occupied within Gertrude's memory, beside the bureau. It was known as
"the client's chair." Moved by a familiar impulse, Gertrude rose and
seated herself in this chair, and looked up at Mrs. Bloxam, with the
old look so completely banished from her face, with so exactly the
same girlish smile which she remembered, that Mrs. Bloxam started.
"You might have never gone away," she said, "for all the change there
is in you now. What a chameleon you are, Gertrude--"
"Grace!" said Gertrude once more; and then the consultation, whose
details there is no need to follow, as they will be made plain by
their results, proceeded without interruption.
* * * * *
Signor da Capo was right in his judgment of Miss Lambert's voice. Her
industry in the study of her art, her unflinching labour, and her
great talent were alike conspicuous. After the interview with Mrs.
Bloxam, Miss Lambert did not make her appearance very often in the
school-room, and it was rumoured that she was not going to be exactly
a teacher. This report proved to be correct. She gave a few occasional
lessons, but only in a casual way; and it was understood among the
pupils that not only did Miss Lambert receive lessons of preternatural
duration from Signor da Capo, but that she went very often into
London, and took instruction from a still more eminent professor of
music, a beatified creature, glorious on the boards of the Italian
Opera. It was even said, and with truth, that Miss Lambert's singing
was beginning to be talked of outside the precincts of the Vale
House; and that great ladies with coronets on their carriages and
pocket-handkerchiefs had questioned Signor da Capo about his gifted
pupil, and even called on Mrs. Bloxam. When these rumours had been for
some time in circulation, and Grace Lambert's appearance in the
school-room had become an event so rare as not to be looked for more
than once in ten days or so, another report, and one of a startling
nature, disturbed the small world of the Establishment for young
Ladies. This tremendous _on dit_ foretold an event of no less moment
than the relinquishment of the "Establishment" by Mrs. Bloxam, and
that lady's retirement into the genteel tranquillity of private life.
The Vale House had been disposed of; so ran the rumour; and Mrs.
Bloxam was communicating with the "parents and guardians," and making
over her interest and "connection" to her successor. The announcement
would be made at breaking-up time. Much excitement prevailed. Most of
the young ladies entertained a lively hope that their parents would
not feel unreserved confidence in the successor, and that thus they
should gain an indeterminate addition to the vacation. Those who had
no such hope rather liked the novelty of the substitution. They
"didn't mind old Bloxam;"--but anything new must be welcome. For once
rumour was not mistaken. When breaking-up time came, Mrs. Bloxam took
leave of her dear young charges in a touching speech, and consigned
them, with many expressions of interest, to the care of the Misses
Toppit, who were henceforth to preside over the Vale House.
It was generally understood that Mrs. Bloxam's retirement had taken
place under pecuniary conditions of a satisfactory character, and that
Mr. Dexter had acted in the matter with becoming zeal for the
interests of his client. A few days after the departure of her "dear
young friends" for their several homes, Mrs. Bloxam left the Vale
House. She was accompanied by Grace Lambert, who remarked, as they
drove away, "It must be painful to you, after all, to leave a place
where you have lived so long."
"No," said Mrs. Bloxam, "it is not. _I_ feel what the girls _fancy_
about it: I have had too much work and too little play there, to be
able to regret the Vale House."
* * * * *
The carriage placed at her disposal by the Marchioness of Carabas
whirled Miss Grace Lambert, after her brilliantly successful first
appearance at Carabas House, to a small but remarkably pretty villa at
Bayswater. The detached house, intensely modern and white, with the
largest possible windows for its size, and the prettiest possible
ornamentation about it--of carved wood in the Swiss style, and curly
iron railings and posts and verandahs in the Birmingham style, with
neat flower-beds, the colours all _en suite_, in the miniature
Tuileries style--was very pretty and very comfortable. Mrs. Bloxam
interested herself in every detail of the small establishment, which
she had not found any difficulty in "starting" with her own funds, and
which she fully expected to be able to maintain most creditably with
those which should accrue from the success of Miss Grace Lambert,
about which she was assured by competent authorities no reasonable
doubt could be entertained.
And now that success seemed to be assured indeed. The little coterie
which was wont to assemble almost daily at the villa would rejoice
hugely on the morrow of the grand concert at Carabas House, and the
grand Carabas Marchioness would no doubt speed the fame of her
_protégée's_ success far and wide in the most profitable directions.
The Marchioness had "taken up" Signer da Capo's favourite pupil,
concerning whom the gushing Italian was wont to tell wonderful things,
while he was pretending to administer instruction to the Lady
Angelica, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of the most noble
the Marchioness, who had a remarkably pretty throat, which the singing
attitude exhibited in a favourable light, but who possessed about as
much talent for music, or indeed for anything, as the favourite
Persian cat of the most noble. Signor da Capo was very good-looking,
and was one of those who, at a respectable distance, and in a modified
sense, "understood" the Marchioness, and she responded to his gushing
communications about Miss Lambert's talents and attractions, and the
inevitable _furore_ which she was indubitably to create, by a
vehemently-expressed desire to befriend that young lady, and an
amiable determination to bring her out at Carabas House, and so at
once serve Miss Lambert, and prevent Lady Lowndes, who was her
intimate enemy, and a rival patroness of genius, art, literature, and
fashionable religion, from "getting hold of" the promising young
_débutante_. The pleasure of the honest signor--who was truly
interested in his young friend, and who religiously believed every
word he had said in her favour--when Lady Carabas announced her
intention of making Miss Lambert's acquaintance, was genuine and
demonstrative, and he readily gave the pledge which she exacted from
him, that he would not let Lady Lowndes know of the existence of this
unsunned treasure.
"I cannot answer for the discretion of M--, my lady," said the signor;
"he knows Miss Lambert's genius as well as I do, and he goes to Lady
Lowndes' oftener than I do; but there is always the chance for us that
M-- never thinks and seldom talks of anybody but himself."
The acquaintance made under such favourable auspices ripened rapidly
into intimacy, very flattering, and likely to prove very profitable,
to Miss Lambert. The Marchioness was almost as much delighted with the
girl as she professed to be; and Miss Lambert, who "understood" the
_grande dame_ in quite a different sense from that in which she was in
the habit of using the word, was quite alive to the profit and the
pleasure to be derived from such exalted patronage. The calmness, the
reserve, the unbending self-respect of the girl had a powerful effect
on Lady Carabas. They excited her curiosity, and awakened her
interest. She had a good deal of the former in her disposition,
apropos of everything, and particularly apropos of the love affairs of
her friends and acquaintances, and she naturally felt strong curiosity
on this subject as regarded Grace Lambert. She arrived, as she
thought, at a tolerably accurate knowledge of who Miss Lambert saw,
and where Miss Lambert went; but she never came upon the traces of the
slightest "tendre."
"How very charming!" said the Marchioness of Carabas to herself, a day
or two before the grand concert at Carabas House; "this young
creature's heart has evidently never spoken. She will be a _débutante_
in every sense."
The heart of the most noble had spoken so frequently, that it might
fairly be supposed to be a little hoarse. Hence her admiration of the
inarticulatism of that organ in the case of Grace Lambert. As she
drove in the Park that day, she actually meditated upon the expediency
of introducing to the special notice of her charming _protégée_ a
delightful man in the Blues, who had up to a late period "understood"
her, but who had had the misfortune to bore her lately, and the bad
taste to take his dismissal in dudgeon.
"He knows about music," thought her ladyship; "yes, that will do;" and
then she pulled the deck-string, and gave the order "home," and had
scribbled half-a-dozen notes of invitation to a little dinner _en
petit comité_ on the following Sunday, before post-hour. One of the
half-dozen notes was addressed to Lord Sandilands, a second to the man
in the Blues, and a third to Miss Grace Lambert. The destination of
the other three is no concern of ours.
When Miss Lambert's page brought her the much-monogramed note which
contained Lady Carabas' invitation, she observed that a second missive
lay on the salver. It was addressed to Mrs. Bloxam, who was sitting in
the same room, at a little distance from the piano before which Grace
was seated. The page crossed the room, and held the salver towards
Mrs. Bloxam, who took the letter, and as she glanced at the
superscription, turned deadly pale. She held the letter in her hand
unopened, and glanced with a strange uneasiness in her usually placid
face towards Grace. But Grace had thrown the note she had just read on
the floor beside her, and her fingers were scampering over the keys,
and her Voice was pouring out volumes of sound; she seemed unconscious
even of Mrs. Bloxam's presence. Seeing which that lady rose and went
to her own room. Having reached that sanctum, and carefully bolted the
door, she broke the seal of the letter which had caused her to
experience so much emotion, and found, as she expected, that it came
from Lord Sandilands. Its contents were brief and businesslike. Mrs.
Bloxam knew his lordship's style of old. He told her that he wished to
see her alone, for a reason which he would explain in person, should
he be so fortunate as to procure the desired interview, on calling at
the villa on the following day, at three o'clock in the afternoon. He
would take his chance of finding her at home, and, if he should be
unsuccessful, would call again.
The receipt of this letter threw Mrs. Bloxam, who had been prevented
by indisposition from accompanying Grace Lambert to Carabas House, and
was therefore unaware that Lord Sandilands had been present at the
concert, into a state of the utmost perturbation. She dreaded she knew
not what. It was in vain she asked herself what had she to fear. If,
indeed, the design of Lord Sandilands in coming to see her were to
inquire after his daughter, he would find her in the care to which he
had committed her. With regard to the career which she had chosen, he
certainly could not possess the right, nor could she imagine his
having the inclination, to interfere. Was he coming to destroy the
long-maintained _incognito_, to make himself known to his daughter?
Was he coming to demand from her, to whose care he had committed the
child, a stern account of her stewardship? Had he any suspicion of the
truth? Had any rumour of Gertrude's miserable marriage reached her
father? Was he coming in anger, or in curiosity, or in an access of
newly-awakened conscience, of newly-born feeling? She could not tell,
and yet she was forced to ask herself these questions, vain though
they were; and Mrs. Bloxam acknowledged to herself afterwards that she
had seldom passed through more miserable hours than those which
elapsed between the receipt of Lord Sandilands' letter, and the page's
announcement that Lord Sandilands was awaiting her presence in the
drawing-room, on the afternoon of the same day.
At the hour which he had named Lord Sandilands presented himself at
the villa. Mrs. Bloxam was alone, and received him with much more
composure than she really felt, while he, in his turn, did not betray
any symptoms of the unaccustomed mental perturbation which had led him
to seek her presence. Years had elapsed since Mrs. Bloxam had last
seen Lord Sandilands; years had changed him from a hale middle-aged
man to one on whom the burden of age was beginning to tell. Those
years had made less alteration in her; and the first desultory thought
that occurred to her when she saw him was, how completely the likeness
she had formerly traced in his features to those of Gertrude had
ceased to exist. Lord Sandilands entered at once on the business of
his visit.
"I have come to ask you, Mrs. Bloxam," he said, "whether I am not
right in supposing that the young lady whom I saw at Carabas House two
nights ago is the same whom I placed with you under the name of
Gertrude Keith?"
"Miss Lambert is that young lady," replied Mrs. Bloxam.
"I thought I could not be mistaken. I have never seen her since her
childhood, as you know, and did not purpose to see her. But I have
changed my mind. She is very handsome and very clever, Mrs. Bloxam;"
and Lord Sandilands' voice took almost a pleading tone. "She is a girl
who would do credit to such a position as--as I cannot give her
now--but I should like to serve her in any way that is open to me; and
I have come to you to ask your advice as to how this is to be done."
"Miss Lambert is in the house now," said Mrs. Bloxam; "but I have not
mentioned your name to her, or your intended visit. I fancied you
might have some such purpose as you tell me of in coming, and thought
it better to wait until I should know more."
"You did very right, Mrs. Bloxam," said Lord Sandilands. "I think it
is better I should not see Gertrude now; and I do not think she ought
ever to know the truth--to know that I am her father. It could do no
good to her or to me; there is no undoing the past; but I see no
objection, if you have none, to my being introduced to her in the
character of an old friend of yours, interested in her because you
are, and anxious to serve her. Do _you_ see any reason why this should
not be, Mrs. Bloxam?"
"Certainly not, my lord," replied Gertrude's friend; "it requires
little consideration, I think, and I shall be happy to carry out your
wishes now as formerly."
Mrs. Bloxam spoke with her usual fluent composure. It had forsaken her
for a little while after Lord Sandilands' appearance, but now it was
perfectly restored. Things were taking the best possible turn. Lord
Sandilands was putting himself into the position of her debtor, making
a compact of positive friendship with her. What an escape from the
danger she dreaded, the risk she felt she had so duly incurred! He had
no suspicion, not the slightest--the terrible episode of Gertrude's
disastrous marriage was, then, safely concealed from the only human
being whom, beside herself and her husband, it concerned! With steady
serenity she turned her attention to what Lord Sandilands had to say
to her. Their interview was long and uninterrupted, until, a few
minutes after they had heard the sound of carriage-wheels in the
little avenue, Grace Lambert entered the room abruptly. She was
looking handsome, and in high spirits, and came in saying:
"I beg your pardon--I thought you were alone."
"This is Lord Sandilands, my dear," said Mrs. Bloxam, as the old
nobleman rose and bowed. "Lord Sandilands, Miss Lambert. His Lordship
saw you the other night at Carabas House, Grace.
"Indeed!" said Grace, with a perfectly unembarrassed smile. "I am
going there now--Lady Carabas has sent the carriage for me--so I came
to tell you." Then, with a gesture of leave-taking, she said to Lord
Sandilands, "Ah, yes, I remember now, quite well. You were in the
front seats, next to a tall young man with a very thick dark beard."