MEDIATION.
Breakfast is a period of probation for many people's temper. It is a
comparatively easy matter after dinner in the evening to assume light
spirits with one's evening dress, knowing that the work and worries
of the day are all behind one, but considerable philosophy is
required to be entirely amiable the first thing in the morning, when
the same work and worries have to be taken up anew.
So when, the morning following Melville's surprise visit to the Manor
House, Sir Geoffrey entered the dining-room, Gwendolen's loving eyes
perceived at once that something had occurred to ruffle his
equanimity. With her he was never irritable, but his greeting was
absent-minded, and he seemed to seek in vain for anything to interest
him in the columns of the _Times_.
Mrs. Austen usually breakfasted in bed, and as Ralph was not to
return until the middle of the day, Sir Geoffrey and Gwendolen were
alone together, and the meal passed almost in silence. At last Sir
Geoffrey himself appeared to become aware of the fact that he was
discharging his duties as a host with something less than his usual
success.
"Forgive me, Gwen," he said pleasantly. "I'm an old bear this
morning, and poor company for my beautiful princess."
Gwendolen rose and put her arms round his neck.
"Then if the story books are to be believed, the beautiful Princess
only has to kiss the old bear, and he will be transformed into Prince
Charming again," and leaning over him she kissed him affectionately.
"You're a little witch," said Sir Geoffrey, smiling; "but tell me,
aren't you burning to know what has upset my temper to-day?"
"Not at all," Gwendolen answered quickly, "unless it is anything that
I have done."
"Of course it isn't," said Sir Geoffrey; "but it's the next thing to
it. I've got a bone to pick with Ralph."
Gwendolen's face clouded over.
"Oh! I am sorry," she said, but almost immediately her eyes shone
brightly again. "It can't be very serious, though, because he's sure
to have some perfectly satisfactory explanation for whatever he has
done, and as soon as you see him you'll find there's no bone to pick."
"You're a loyal little woman," said Sir Geoffrey, well pleased, "and
I've no doubt you're right. What time is the immaculate hero to
honour us by his reappearance?"
"About a quarter to one," Gwendolen replied.
"In time for luncheon," Sir Geoffrey remarked. "Whatever one may
think about his other meritorious qualities, there can be no doubt
about the excellence of Ralph's appetite."
"You're trying to draw me," said Gwendolen cheerfully; "but I won't
be drawn. I like a man to have a good appetite, and, by the way,
you're not a bad trencherman yourself."
Sir Geoffrey laughed.
"I've got some work to do this morning," he said as he got up. "You
must kill the time somehow until Ralph returns, and after luncheon
you will be able to pick water lilies and gaze into each other's eyes
to any extent. Are you going to meet him at the station?"
"I thought of doing so," Gwendolen admitted.
"Did you really!" said Sir Geoffrey, with affected incredulity.
"Well, I don't want to interfere with your plans, but seriously,
Gwen, as soon as you've got over the shock--I mean the rapture--of
seeing him again, will you tell him to come to me in the library?"
"Of course I will," said Gwendolen, "and seriously, too, dear uncle,
I'm sure everything will be cleared up as soon as you see him."
"I daresay it will," Sir Geoffrey agreed, "but I have always believed
in getting to the bottom of things immediately. When you're married,
Gwen, avoid a misunderstanding with your husband as you would avoid
the devil. Quarrel if you must, but, at any rate, know what you're
quarrelling about. That's good advice."
"How can an old bachelor give any good advice about the married
state?" Gwendolen asked lightly, and she nodded gaily as she ran
upstairs, not noticing how the expression altered on Sir Geoffrey's
face.
"Blows beneath the heart dealt by those one loves the most," he
muttered sadly. "Well, it's inevitable in this world, I suppose,
and, after all, there's compensation in the love itself. But Ralph
ought not to have stooped to borrow that money from Melville; and
what on earth can he have wanted it for that he was afraid to ask me?
That's the sting," and the old gentleman walked slowly to his library
and shut himself in there alone.
Both to Sir Geoffrey and to Gwendolen the morning seemed to drag, but
at last the train which brought Ralph from town arrived, and,
heedless of the bystanders, Gwendolen kissed her lover and walked
down the hill with him to the river.
"Had a happy morning, dear?" he asked.
"A very long one," Gwendolen replied. "Time is very inconsiderate to
people who are in love; it flies when they are together and halts
when they are alone, whereas, of course, it ought to do exactly the
reverse."
"Of course it ought," Ralph assented, "but, anyhow, it's ripping to
be alive. By Jove, Gwen, I think I'm the happiest man in the whole
world."
Gwen looked at him critically.
"I'm sure you are the nicest," she said enthusiastically, and did not
demur to his finding her approval an excuse for another kiss.
"Let's go on the houseboat," he said, "and after luncheon I will punt
you up to where the water lilies are."
"Pick water lilies and gaze in each other's eyes," said Gwen,
laughing; "that was the programme Sir Geoffrey mapped out for us.
Oh! I forgot. He asked me to send you to him directly you arrived.
He's in the library."
"Can't it keep till after luncheon?" Ralph asked indifferently. "I
want to talk to you."
"No," Gwen replied; "you must go now. I promised that you would. He
said he had a bone to pick with you."
"Did he?" said Ralph. "I wonder what's the matter."
"I don't know," Gwen answered, "but he was very quiet at breakfast,
and I guessed there was something wrong; then he told me it was about
you, and I said you could explain anything you did or didn't do, and
you've got to go at once and do so."
"A very lucid statement," Ralph said, smiling. "Well, it's a bore to
have to leave you at once, but if you've promised, there's no help
for it."
"None," said Gwendolen gravely. "Come along, Ralph."
In her heart she was a little uneasy, for although she had absolute
confidence in Ralph's perfect integrity, she had never before seen
Sir Geoffrey look so troubled at anything in which his favourite
nephew was concerned. But she stifled her not unnatural curiosity,
and, leaving Ralph at the library door, ran off to the room where her
mother was writing wholly unnecessary letters.
Sir Geoffrey was so engrossed in a book that he did not hear Ralph
come into the room. Comfortably ensconced in a huge armchair, with
spectacles on his nose, and the sunlight streaming through the window
upon his silver hair, he embodied the general idea of a cultivated
old English gentleman. Ralph looked at him, and then spoke.
"Gwendolen tells me you want to see me, Uncle Geoffrey, so I've come
straight in."
Sir Geoffrey looked up.
"Yes," he said. "Melville was here last night."
Ralph was vexed, for he knew what was the usual reason for his
brother's visits to Fairbridge.
"Was he?" he said. "I didn't know he was back."
"Then you knew he was going abroad?"
"Oh, yes," said Ralph. "He made no secret about it to me."
Sir Geoffrey only grunted, and Ralph went on.
"In many ways I'm rather sorry for Melville, uncle. Of course, I
know he has been a lot of worry to you, but he's my brother after
all, and it isn't easy to get the sort of work that he could do."
"He's had a good education," said Sir Geoffrey, "and he's got good
health and a pair of hands. What more does a man need to earn an
honest living?"
Ralph was very happy, and when one is happy it is difficult not to
feel generously disposed even to those one loves the least; so now he
championed his brother quite sincerely.
"I've got all that, too," he said, but Sir Geoffrey put up his hand
in deprecation of any comparison between the two brothers.
"You owe me a hundred pounds, Ralph," he said.
"My dear uncle," Ralph replied. "I owe you a great deal more than
that. I can never repay you a fraction of what I owe you."
Sir Geoffrey's face lighted up with pleasure at the young fellow's
frank expression of gratitude.
"One does not repay free gifts," he answered. "Let all that pass;
but, Ralph, why couldn't you tell me you were in need of ready money?"
"I don't quite understand," said Ralph, looking puzzled.
"A few weeks ago," said Sir Geoffrey, rather testily, "you borrowed
it from Melville, and I repaid him for you last night."
Ralph's face flushed with indignation.
"You paid Melville a hundred pounds for me?"
"Yes," said his uncle.
"But I don't owe him anything."
"You wrote to him at Monte Carlo, and asked him for a hundred pounds.
What did you want that for?"
"To complete the purchase of the yacht for Gwendolen. I wanted to
give it to her absolutely unencumbered. Mr. Tracy was selling some
capital for me and said I must wait till the following settling day
for the cash, and I asked Melville to lend me the hundred I needed
until the matter was completed. But he didn't send it. He never
even answered my letter."
"He tells me he sent you a hundred pounds in notes," Sir Geoffrey
said distinctly. "Isn't that true?"
"No," said Ralph indignantly; "it's an absolute lie." He paced the
room in angry impatience. It seemed incredible that his own brother
could be capable of such an utterly unworthy trick. Sir Geoffrey
closed his book with a snap and pressed his lips together.
"I ought to have known you both better," he said; "but Melville's
story was so circumstantial, and there was the evidence of your
letter, too. I was completely taken in. But now I know what to do."
Ralph stopped abruptly.
"What are you going to do?" he asked.
"Instruct Tracy to take proceedings against Melville for getting
money under false pretences."
"But that's punishable with imprisonment," said Ralph aghast.
"Certainly it is," said Sir Geoffrey grimly.
"But you can't make a convict of my brother, and your nephew!"
"Our relationship to him is our misfortune," said Sir Geoffrey, "not
our fault. I shall do what I say."
"Look here, Uncle Geoffrey," said Ralph excitedly, "after all, this
is largely my affair. I will give you back the hundred pounds--I've
got the money now--and I will go to town at once and square accounts
with Melville. Did he tell you where he was staying?"
"No," said his uncle; "I did not enquire."
"Well, I'm sure to get news of him at Jermyn Street, if he isn't
actually there. Promise to abandon all idea of prosecution, and
leave this in my hands. Promise?"
Sir Geoffrey looked with pleasure at his nephew as he stood erect
before him, glowing with just indignation, but with chivalrous desire
to spare his brother this crowning shame.
"How you two fellows are brothers passes my comprehension," he said.
"Well, Ralph, I tell you what I will do. I'll give you a week--you
need not go up to town again to-day, for that would be hard on Gwen.
I'll give you a week, and if you can make Melville disgorge the money
I'll take it back with uncommon satisfaction. If you fail, I reserve
liberty of action."
"That's fair, I suppose," said Ralph reluctantly; then he added more
hopefully, "but it will be all right; of course, it will be all
right."
Sir Geoffrey shook his head doubtfully, but the mellow roar of the
gong reverberated through the house announcing luncheon, and he
welcomed the interruption.
"Shake hands, my boy," he said. "I'm sorry I misjudged you, even for
a moment. And now come along, or Gwen will think I've frightened
away your appetite."
He linked his arm within his nephew's, and went into the dining-room
with all his wonted cheerfulness restored.