dark? Not but what I shall know sooner or later, because dear Aunt
Helen is one of the most transparent women in the world. It would be
impossible for her to keep a secret for more than a day."
Westlake turned to Mrs. Rent.
"You had better tell her," he said. "Meanwhile, I'll go and see what I
can do with the artist."
Westlake's tone was so grave that the smile faded from Ethel's cheeks.
She placed an arm around her aunt's neck and kissed the white cheek
tenderly.
"I know you are in some trouble," she murmured. "Tell me what it is.
You have lost all your money?"
"Not a penny," Mrs. Rent replied. "A money loss would be nothing to the
trouble I am suffering now. It is difficult to tell you the truth, but
it will have to be told. You know how proud I have always been of
Arnold. You know how I have boasted that the boy could do nothing
wrong. Well, he has disgraced us. There is no other word for it. He
has forgotten his duty to God and to himself. He has deliberately
broken one of the Commandments."
Ethel's face grew as pale and colourless as that of her companion.
"Do not be afraid to speak," she murmured. "Try to forget that I am not
a child. What has Arnold done?"
"There was a woman," Mrs. Rent said incoherently. "She was a married
woman, which makes matters worse. And now she has left her husband ...
with Arnold. I could not say more if I sat here all night. Of course,
one could find excuses for the boy. One could argue that he has acted
in this mad fashion from chivalrous motives. But the sorry truth
remains that these two have gone off together, and that scandal is bound
to follow. Of all the paths of dishonour that my boy might have trodden,
I cannot think of one more discreditable than this. Don't press me to
say more. Don't ask me for details, for I have none to give you. Mr.
Westlake came here at once to break the trouble to me, and I have no
doubt that I shall have a long letter from Arnold in the morning."
"What are you going to do?" Ethel asked. She could think of nothing
else to say. "You will see him, of course."
"I don't know. I am not sure. I have been a fond and loving mother to
Arnold, and I have striven to do my duty by him, but, also, I owe a duty
to society. And everything that I possess is at my discretion. If I
like to say the word, Arnold will rise to-morrow without a penny. I
have not said much, because I hardly realise the magnitude of this
disaster. Shame and disgrace like this must not be allowed to go
unpunished. I don't wish to be too hard upon anybody, but I cannot
believe that that woman would have thrown in her lot with my son unless
she had known he had great expectations."
"I see what you mean," Ethel said. "You are going to take a firm stand.
But why not wait? Why assume that there is anything really wrong? It is
not just to Arnold. You do not mean to disown him?"
"Oh, no, no," Mrs. Rent cried. "I could not do that. That might be the
means of sending a poor, unhappy creature headlong to her ruin. We may
find Mr. Charlock----"
"Mr. Charlock!" Ethel exclaimed. "Do you mean to say----"
"I am afraid so," Mrs. Rent went on. "I am afraid that the cruel irony
of fate has brought the poor gentleman into this house at the most
inopportune time. It may be mere coincidence, but that is almost too
much to hope for. What was I saying? Oh, yes. You see, when the law
gives Mr. Charlock his freedom, it will be a point of honour on Arnold's
part to marry this woman. Common humanity will prevent me from
interfering. Common decency would compel Arnold to take that step. And
do you suppose that that wicked creature would care much, so long as she
had money to spend? She would make Arnold take her on the continent.
She would drag him down to her own level. The best years of his life
would be wasted. But if I say that they must go their own way, without
assistance from me, Arnold may pull himself together and live down his
disgrace. Don't you see, I wish to find out what this woman is made of?
Perhaps Mr. Charlock may be a wretch, and have driven his wife in sheer
desperation to take this step."
"I don't believe it," Ethel said firmly. "I don't believe that a man
who would take so much trouble over a stray dog could be guilty of
unkindness. There is something about his face that I like. But I
interrupt you."
"What was I saying? Oh, I want to test the woman. I want to see if she
will remain true to the man whose life she has spoilt in the face of
adversity. If so, then in the future she has little to fear from me.
Meanwhile, I have made up my mind. I will stop Arnold's allowance. He
will not receive another penny from me. He is strong and brave and
clever. He is equipped for the earning of his own living. All this I
will tell him when we meet to-morrow. It will be something for him to
find out that I have a side to my character which he has not dreamt of.
You may not think that I am right. You may say that I am hard and
cruel----"
"You could never be that," Ethel murmured. "I am very fond of Arnold,
and this has been a terrible blow to me, not the least so because it has
wounded my pride. But I don't want to talk about myself. I am certain
you are right, and that, in the circumstances, you could not do anything
else. But you will let me go with you to-morrow. I know that Mr.
Westlake will accompany you, but a man is so useless in times like
these. Besides, I have a desire to see the woman who has come in and
wrecked our paradise. I want to judge her for myself."
"That is out of the question," Mrs. Rent decided. "But here is Mr.
Westlake."
Westlake came slowly into the room. He could see that Mrs. Rent had
told Ethel everything, and that, therefore, he could speak freely.
"It is just as I thought," he said. "This is the husband of the woman
who has infatuated your boy. As you may imagine, Mr. Charlock feels the
situation acutely. Of course, it occurred to him that you were the
mother of Arnold Rent, but he himself is here on business. He says that
you invited him to come at the first favourable opportunity, offering
your hospitality, which a day or two ago he thankfully accepted. In his
letter he fixed to-day, and said he should be here at the time
mentioned, unless he heard from you to the contrary. Taking your
silence for consent, he came. And, mind you, till I told him a few
minutes ago, he had not the faintest idea of this madness between Arnold
and his wife. I should like to save you as much pain as possible, but
you must see him."
*CHAPTER XVIII*
*CUPBOARD LOVE*
Charlock's wife was easier in her mind. When the start was made she
could see her way clearly. The long journey was coming to an end at
length and the period of inaction was nearly over. Kate Charlock sat in
her seat, her eyes half-closed, smiling serenely. Arnold Rent thought
he had never seen her smile like that before. It seemed to him that he
was one of the most fortunate of men. Hitherto, it had never occurred to
him to ask himself a question. He had not paused to debate whether this
woman loved him or not. Perhaps he was afraid to face his own vanity.
He had made the suggestion on the spur of the moment, carried away by a
spontaneous outburst of love and passion, and Kate Charlock had
responded without a struggle.
Yet he could not doubt her. It was impossible to doubt her. No woman
with a face and smile like that could have done other than follow the
dictates of her heart. She had placed herself in his hands, and so long
as he had health and strength she should never repent it. No woman had
ever been loved before as he loved Kate Charlock.
And she, on the other hand, sat there with beautiful lines of
resignation on her face, looking the embodiment of all that was good,
and pure, and holy. She seemed to be raised above the level of the
common earth. And yet she, too, was thinking as she surveyed Rent under
the long fringe of her eyelashes.
He was a nice-looking fellow, she told herself. She regarded him with a
certain amount of good-natured contempt. No doubt he would make a man
in time, but he would have many lessons to learn first. He would be
easy to manage, too, despite his square chin and the resolute lines of
his mouth. He would not be surly and self-contained, like John
Charlock. On the whole, Kate saw a pleasant prospect before her after
the scandal was forgotten and things resumed their normal footing. She
knew exactly what the process would be. For a year or so they would be
studiously avoided by even the most frivolous of her friends. Then
people would languidly inquire whether or not there had been some
scandal in the past, and after that others, bolder than the rest, would
be calling on Mrs. Arnold Rent. They would come fast enough, provided
there were good dinners and entertainments worth sharing, and Arnold
Rent would have to provide all those things. It was all very well to
talk largely of living in a quiet, frugal way and giving nine-tenths of
his income to the poor, but Kate Charlock would see to all that. It was
the man's obvious duty to make things smooth for her and pave the way
into the pale of Society again. It didn't matter much about the man,
for in these matters the man never suffers. It is always the woman who
pays.
The prospect was alluring, and accounted for the heavenly smile which
Arnold Rent was studying so rapturously. And yet behind it all was a
fear that Mrs. Rent might step down from her high place and shatter the
fond illusion. Arnold Rent might say that his mother idolised him. It
was easy to prophesy that she would come forward and welcome the
fugitive with open arms. The elderly lady might be all that her son
claimed for her, but she was proud and prejudiced, and had all the
conventions of her class. What if she were to put her foot down firmly?
What if she refused to see them? The telegram she had sent to her son
did not indicate a conciliatory spirit. Still, if once the threshold
were crossed, it would not be easy to dislodge the culprits, and Arnold
Rent as yet had not seen anything but the mere fringe of the artifices
which his companion had at her fingertips. She turned to him presently,
a little tired of her gloomy thoughts.
"What is your house like, Arnold?" she asked.
Arnold Rent's face lighted up with pleasure.
"Oh, Alton Lee is a beautiful place," he said. "I don't know what kind
of architecture you call it, for it has been built from time to time, as
occasion required. Now it is one mass of ivy and creeping plants. To
my mind, it is the most beautiful place in Devonshire. It is so restful
and peaceful, and I don't believe there are any roses like ours in the
world. I suppose, too, there is not a finer collection of antique
furniture in the South of England. I have known my grandfather
entertain a hundred visitors without the slightest inconvenience."
"How charming," Kate Charlock murmured. "But that kind of thing is very
extravagant. I suppose that is why so many of our great families have
become so poor."
The speaker uttered the words thoughtfully, as she gazed dreamily out of
the carriage window. Rent did not notice what lay behind the simple
speech.
"Oh, we are by no means poor," he said. "I don't suppose the Rents have
been more mercenary than other people, but it so happens that most of
them married money. Our tastes have been fairly simple, too, and we
have been very lucky in our advisers. The last time I saw our
solicitor, Mr. Westlake, he told me that I should some day have the
control of an estate worth nearly a million."
Kate Charlock smiled and murmured something to the effect that money was
not everything. Nevertheless, the statement filled her with the keenest
pleasure. In her mind's eye, she could see the stately house rising
above the sea. Already she was beginning to rearrange the various rooms
with their priceless furniture. She saw herself a popular hostess,
eagerly sought after and invited everywhere. Arnold Rent was placing
his future in her hands now, but it was only like casting his bread on
the waters, and the thing would be worth a struggle. It would be
glorious to live the scandal down and force the people who regarded her
coldly at first to come cringing for an invitation to Alton Lee. For
the moment Kate Charlock thought she was genuinely in love with the man
opposite. Truly, fortune was favouring her. She was getting her
recompense for the five dreary years which she had endured under the
roof of John Charlock.
She was quite convinced of the fact, too, that the blame was wholly
Charlock's. It _must_ be so, since all her friends had said so. She
looked back now to the past five years with complacent pride and
soothing self-satisfaction. But all that was going to be altered.
Before two years had passed there would be no more charming or popular
hostess in England than Mrs. Arnold Rent of Alton Lee. If only Arnold's
mother----
Ah, there was the trouble. With a subtle instinct all her own, Kate
Charlock made no attempt to blind the issue. It was from this quarter
the trouble was coming. She felt certain of it. She closed her eyes
and feigned sleep. She was getting a trifle tired of the sound of
Arnold Rent's voice. She wished he were a little less boyish, a little
less certain of his ground. Then, for a while, she sank into oblivion,
sitting up with a start when the train stopped at a small station.
"We are here," Rent explained. "It is only a short way to the house,
and I will take you a near cut through the grounds. Let us slip away
before the station-master comes fussing along."
It was not dark yet. The air was full of the smell of flowers. The
peaceful silence was restful and soothing. But Kate Charlock was not
thinking about that. Her mind was possessed with the reflection that
all this was her companion's property, and that very soon she would be
mistress. She had no keen eye for the beauties of the country, but even
she was moved to admiration as the path sloped upwards and the great
sylvan landscape began to unfold itself. She saw the wide stretch of
the park, where the deer were moving like phantoms in the dusk. She
noted the outline of the grand old house beyond. For the moment she was
touched and thrilled. It was not the first time she found herself in
one of the stately English homes. She had always envied the lot of folk
who were blessed in this way, and soon she would actually have one of
her own.
"Is it not perfect?" Rent said, with a thrill in his voice. "Are you
surprised that I should love the place as I do? The time will come when
you will be just as fond of Alton Lee as I am myself. Isn't it a
paradise?"
"It is, indeed," Kate Charlock said rapturously. "But do not let us
think so much of our own happiness when there are others to consider. I
am more concerned for your poor mother than anyone else. Do you know, I
should be almost thankful if you made up your mind to turn back, even at
this moment. Oh, Arnold, do you think that your mother will allow me to
stay?"
Arnold Rent smiled convincingly.
"I have no doubt about it," he said. "Of course, I don't disguise the
fact that this will be a terrible shock to my poor mother, but, you will
see, she will make the best of it, especially when she comes to hear
your story. I am going to leave you here till I can make you my wife.
That is one of the ways by which we can stifle the breath of scandal.
And when you become a member of this household----"
Kate Charlock quickened her footsteps. Something like a chill passed
over her for a moment.
"Come along and let us get it over," she said. "The suspense is more
than I can bear. And if your mother fails me in this dreadful crisis,
why----"
*CHAPTER XIX*
*UNBIDDEN GUESTS*
Meanwhile, Mrs. Rent was with Charlock in the library. She saw before
her a tall, thick-set man, whose hard features and smileless eyes
impressed her with a fancy that he was the central figure in some dark
tragedy. Yet there was that vague something about John Charlock that
appealed to the woman's sympathies, for he, too, had suffered like
herself. The same woman who had ruined Arnold Rent had brought shame
and disgrace to John Charlock. He stood bowing gravely till Mrs. Rent
came forward and timidly held out her hand. Then, at length, he spoke.
"This is a cruel trick that Fate has played us," he said. "Believe me,
if I had known what had happened I should not be here this evening. I
suppose Mr. Westlake has explained to you how the misunderstanding came
about. And I think I know now why you did not get my letter. I had
placed it with others on the hall table two days before. It was the day
I lost my home. You see, I have been in great money difficulties, due
principally to the extravagance of the woman who is my wife. One of my
creditors stripped my house of everything, and left me nothing but the
bare walls. I am not complaining. I had fair warning, and the money
was honestly due to the man. Doubtless, in the confusion of the moment,
my letters were lost sight of. But perhaps you will think that I ought
not to stay any longer. I daresay I can find some accommodation in the
village till the morning."
"Indeed, you cannot," Mrs. Rent exclaimed, all her hospitable instincts
on fire. "There is no house of entertainment within some miles of this
and the few cottages around are impossible. I appreciate the delicacy
of your feelings, but you will have to remain till the morning. And the
thing is no fault of yours."
"My wife's friends will tell you otherwise," Charlock said, with a
bitter smile. "They will tell you that she is a sweet, saintly creature
who put up with my cruel indifference till human nature could bear the
strain no longer. Indeed, your son was good enough to tell me so. As a
friend of my wife's, he ventured to expostulate with me, a comparative
stranger, on the way I treated her."
All the blood came flaming to Mrs. Rent's face.
"He didn't," she said hoarsely. "He never went so far as that. It is
incredible. What did you say?"
"I said nothing. I never say anything. The heart knoweth its own
bitterness. There is no man on earth who has learnt the wisdom of that
saying more than myself. And why should I try to put the world right?
In the eyes of most people I am a boor and a brute. I had no business
to tie a beautiful woman to a personality like mine. Why should I waste
my time in proving to the world that the world is wrong? Why should I
proclaim from the housetops that I am a broken and disappointed man,
with nothing but my work to fall back upon?"
Charlock appeared to have forgotten himself. The words burst in a stream
from his lips as he paced up and down the room. Never before had he
shown his heart like this to a stranger. Yet there was something like
sorrowful sympathy in the eyes of his hostess that seemed to draw
confidences from him.
"I think I understand," Mrs. Rent said gently. "Is your wife, then, so
wonderfully prepossessing?"
"I think she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Charlock
said, in the same tense tones. "She is outwardly the embodiment of
womanly innocence and purity, and I gave her all the heart that a lonely
and self-contained man possesses. How she has repaid me I leave you to
find out for yourself. And yet, if she were to come back to me now and
place her hands upon my shoulders and ask me to forgive her, I should be
as wax in her hands. Wait till you see the woman called Kate Charlock
before you judge your son too harshly. But, then, you are a woman, and
do not know how we men feel when we come in contact with temptation.
Mind you, I am not defending myself. I am going to make no defence.
When your son came to me and spoke as he did I saw that heart and soul
he was the slave of my wife. He did not know it. He did not realise it
at the moment, but I let him chide me where ninety-nine men out of a
hundred would have kicked him out of the house. But I was patient. I
asked him to come four-and-twenty hours later, when I would show him
what I was going to do. At the end of that time I knew that my home
would be no more than a name. And then I forgot all about my scheme of
revenge. And when the time came and my home was no more, I stood within
the bare walls and made my wife an offer. There was to be an end of all
her shameful extravagance. I was going into a cottage, where we should
live without a servant till my debts were paid. My wife refused to go,
and in a fit of sullen indifference I turned away and left her in the
empty house.... It was then that your son came along.... I can say no
more. I leave the rest for you to imagine. And now, if you will permit
me, I will seek some lodging for the night."
Gently but firmly Mrs. Rent refused to listen to the suggestion. Till
the morning, at any rate, she would not hear of Charlock seeking
quarters elsewhere. It would be a dull and dreary evening, but that was
inevitable in any case. It was a quiet and somewhat strained meal from
which they all rose presently with feelings of undisguised thankfulness.
It was barely dark, and the sea shimmered in the afterglow of the
sunset. Charlock crossed over towards the French windows and stepped
out upon the lawn, followed by Ethel.
"This is a lovely spot," he said. "Isn't there a wonderful walk here
through the rose gardens leading to the sea? Would you mind showing it
to me? I may never have another chance of seeing it. Won't you come?"
"We will all go," Mrs. Rent suggested. "Anything is better than sitting
brooding in the house. Ethel, will you run upstairs and get a wrap for
me?"
They started off presently, Ethel and Charlock a little in front of the
rest. For a time they were silent, till, at length, the perfect beauty
of the scene fell like a charm upon Charlock and he began to talk. It
was a new thing for him to have a companion in sympathy with himself.
But the responsive look in Ethel's deep eyes seemed to draw him to her.
It was not so much what he said as what he implied that led Ethel to
believe that he was both a miserable and a misunderstood man. The church
clock was striking the hour of ten before they turned and made their way
again towards the house.
"I believe I have been talking for a good hour," Charlock said. "I
never remember doing such a thing before in all my life. I hope you
will not run away with the idea that I am a loquacious man."
Westlake and Mrs. Rent drew up to the rest, and they all stood enjoying
the fragrance of the night. Mrs. Rent turned at last with a suggestion
that it was getting chilly, and that it would be more prudent to go
indoors.
"A few minutes longer," Charlock pleaded. "To an artist such a scene is
exceedingly attractive. One could forget all one's troubles in a place
like this."
Before Mrs. Rent could make any reply a servant came across the lawn and
spoke to her mistress. She seemed to be excited, and her eyes danced
with pleasure.
"What is it, Mary?" Mrs. Rent asked.
"Mr. Arnold has come back unexpectedly, madam," the maid replied. "He
would like to see you in the library, please. I forgot to say that
there is a lady with him."
"Say I will come," Mrs. Rent said faintly.
Now that the crisis had arrived, the unhappy mother felt like shirking
it altogether. She had not forgotten what Charlock had said. She was
prepared to make every allowance for her son. But, even then, she would
have to do violence to her feelings. She only wanted to be just, to do
that which was right and proper. And, after all, she only had John
Charlock's word as to the way in which he had been treated. And she was
bound to confess that he did not look in the least like a man capable of
making a woman happy. Perhaps his wife was the injured saint she took
herself to be, and her son might be acting from the highest and purest
motives. Such things had happened over and over again, despite the fact
that the world was cold and critical. But the matter had to be faced,
and the sooner the better.
In a dreamy sort of way Mrs. Rent saw her son's smiling face. She
noticed the heightened colour on his cheeks. Then she saw the most
beautiful woman her eyes had ever fallen upon. Oh, it was impossible to
believe that this was a cold, scheming creature playing for her own
hand. No one could look upon that face and think her anything but
innocent. And Mrs. Rent thought she could vouch for her son.
As she stood there she saw the smile on Kate Charlock's face soften
wonderfully. The woman advanced towards her with an obvious intention
shining in her eyes.
She stepped back instinctively.
"No, no," she cried. "The time is not ripe for that. I cannot allow
you to kiss me--yet."
*CHAPTER XX*
*ACROSS THE THRESHOLD*