It proved not at all difficult to find out everything, or almost
everything, about the runaway pair. The doctor’s mission, though it
seemed likely to be the most important of all, did not produce very
much. In the bustle of the embarkation he had found it difficult to get
any information at all, but eventually he had found Captain Scott, whom
he had attended during his illness, and whom he now sent peremptorily
down below out of the cold. “If that’s your duty, you must not do it,
that’s all,” he had said with the decision of a medical man, though
whether he had secured his point or not, Katherine, ungratefully
indifferent to Algy, did not ascertain. But he found that Sir Charles
Somers had got leave and was going out with a P. and O. from Brindisi to
join his regiment when it should reach India.
“It will cost him the eyes out of his head,” Algy said. “Lucky beggar,
he don’t mind what he spends now.”
“Why?” the doctor asked, and was laughed at for not knowing that Charlie
had run off with old Tredgold’s daughter, who was good for any amount of
money, and, of course, would soon give in and receive the pair back
again into favour. “Are you so sure of that?” the doctor said. And Algy
had replied that his friend would be awfully up a tree if it didn’t turn
out so. The doctor shook his head in relating this story to Katherine.
“I have my doubts,” he said; but she knew nothing on that subject, and
was thinking of nothing but of Stella herself, and the dreadful thought
that she might see her no more.
The vicar, on his side, had been busy with his inquiries too, and he had
found out everything with the greatest ease; in the first place from
Andrews, the young coachman, who declared that he had always taken his
orders from Miss Stella, and didn’t know as he was doing no wrong.
Andrews admitted very frankly that he had driven his young mistress to
the little church, one of the very small primitive churches of the
island near Steephill, where the tall gentleman with the dark moustaches
had met her, and where Miss Stevens had turned up with a big basketful
of white chrysanthemums. They had been in the church about half an hour,
and then they had come out again, and Miss Stevens and the young lady
had got into the brougham. The chrysanthemums had been for the
decoration of the ballroom, as everybody knew. Then he had taken Miss
Stevens to meet the last train for Ryde; and finally he had driven his
young ladies home with a gentleman on the box that had got down at the
gate, but whether he came any further or not Andrews did not know. The
vicar had gone on in search of information to Steephill Church, and
found that the old rector there, in the absence of the curate--he
himself being almost past duty by reason of old age--had married one of
the gentlemen living at the Castle to a young lady whose name he could
not recollect further than that it was Stella. The old gentleman had
thought it all right as it was a gentleman from the Castle, and he had a
special licence, which made everything straight. The register of the
marriage was all right in the books, as the vicar had taken care to see.
Of course it was all right in the books! Katherine was much surprised
that they should all make such a point of that, as if anything else was
to be thought of. What did it matter about the register? The thing was
that Stella had run away, that she was gone, that she had betrayed their
trust in her, and been a traitor to her home.
But a girl is not generally judged very hardly when she runs away; it is
supposed to be her parents’ fault or her lover’s fault, and she but
little to blame. But when Katherine thought of her vigil on the cliff,
her long watch in the moonlight, without a word of warning or farewell,
she did not think that Stella was so innocent. Her heart was very sore
and wounded by the desertion. The power of love indeed! Was there no
love, then, but one? Did her home count for nothing, where she had
always been so cherished; nor her father, who had loved her so dearly;
nor her sister, who had given up everything to her? Oh, no; perhaps the
sister didn’t matter! But at least her father, who could not bear that
she should want anything upon which she had set her heart! Katherine’s
heart swelled at the thought of all Stella’s contrivances to escape in
safety. She had carried all her jewels with her, those jewels which she
had partly acquired as the price of abandoning Sir Charles. Oh, the
treachery, the treachery of it! She could scarcely keep her countenance
while the gentlemen came with their reports. She felt her features
distorted with the effort to show nothing but sorrow, and to thank them
quietly for all the trouble they had taken. She would have liked to
stamp her foot, to dash her clenched hands into the air, almost to utter
those curses which had burst from her father. What a traitor she had
been! What a traitor! She was glad to get the men out of the house, who
were very kind, and wanted to do more if she would let them--to do
anything, and especially to return and communicate to Mr. Tredgold the
result of their inquiries when he woke from his long sleep. Katherine
said No, no, she would prefer to tell him herself. There seemed to be
but one thing she desired, and that was to be left alone.
After this hot fit there came, as was natural, a cold one. Katherine
went upstairs to her own room, the room divided from that other only by
an open door, which they had occupied ever since they were children.
Then her loneliness came down upon her like a pall. Even with the thrill
of this news in all her frame, she felt a foolish impulse to go and call
Stella--to tell Stella all about it, and hear her hasty opinion. Stella
never hesitated to give her opinion, to pronounce upon every subject
that was set before her with rapid, unhesitating decisions. She would
have known exactly what to say on this subject. She would have taken the
girl’s part; she would have asked what right a man had because he was
your father to be such a tyrant. Katherine could hear the very tone in
which she would have condemned the unnatural parent, and see the
indignant gesture with which she would have lifted her head. And now
there was nobody, nothing but silence; the room so vacant, the trim bed
so empty and cold and white. It was like a bed of death, and Katherine
shivered. The creature so full of impulses and hasty thoughts and crude
opinions and life and brightness would never be there again. No, even if
papa would forgive--even if he would receive her back, there would be no
Stella any more. This would not be her place; the sisterly companionship
was broken, and life could never more be what it had been.
She sat down on the floor in the middle of the desolation and cried
bitterly. What should she do without Stella? Stella had always been the
first to think of everything; the suggestion of what to do or say had
always been in her hands. Katherine did not deny to herself that she had
often thought differently from Stella, that she had not always accepted
either her suggestions or her opinions; but that was very different from
the silence, the absence of that clear, distinct, self-assured little
voice, the mind made up so instantaneously, so ready to pronounce upon
every subject. Even in this way of looking at it, it will be seen that
she was no blind admirer of her sister. She knew her faults as well as
anyone. Faults! she was made up of faults--but she was Stella all the
same.
She had cried all her tears out, and was still sitting intent, with her
sorrowful face, motionless, in the reaction of excitement, upon the
floor, when Simmons, the housekeeper, opened the door, and looked round
for her, calling at last in subdued tones, and starting much to see the
lowly position in which her young mistress was. Simmons came attended by
the little jingle of a cup and spoon, which had been so familiar in the
ears of the girls in all their little childish illnesses, when Simmons
with the beef-tea or the arrowroot, or whatever it might be, was a
change and a little amusement to them, in the dreadful vacancy of a day
in bed. Mrs. Simmons, though she was a great personage in the house and
(actually) ordered the dinners and ruled over everything,
notwithstanding any fond illusions that Katherine might cherish on that
subject, had never delegated this care to anyone else, and Katherine
knew very well what was going to be said.
“Miss Katherine, dear, sit up now and take this nice beef-tea. I’ve seen
it made myself, and it’s just as good as I know how. And you must take
something if you’re ever to get up your strength. Sit up, now, and eat
it as long as it’s nice and hot--do!” The address was at once
persuasive, imploring, and authoritative. “Sit up, now, Miss
Katherine--do!”
“Oh, Simmons, it isn’t beef-tea I want this time,” she said, stumbling
hastily to her feet.
“No,” Simmons allowed with a sigh, “but you want your strength kep’ up,
and there’s nothing so strengthening. It’ll warm you too. It’s a very
cold morning and there’s no comfort in the house--not a fire burning as
it ought to, not a bit of consolation nowhere. We can’t all lay down and
die, Miss Katherine, because Miss Stella, bless her, has married a very
nice gentleman. He ain’t to your papa’s liking, more’s the pity, and
sorry I am in many ways, for a wedding in the house is a fine thing, and
such a wedding as Miss Stella’s, if she had only pleased your papa! It
would have been a sight to see. But, dear, a young lady’s fancy is not
often the same as an old gentleman’s, Miss Katherine. We must all own to
that. They thinks of one thing and the young lady, bless her, she thinks
of another. It’s human nature. Miss Stella’s pleased herself, she hasn’t
pleased Master. Well, we can’t change it, Miss Katherine, dear; but
she’s very ’appy, I don’t make a doubt of it, for I always did say as
Sir Charles was a very taking man. Lord bless us, just to think of it! I
am a-calling her Miss Stella, and it’s my Lady she is, bless her little
heart!”
Though she despised herself for it, this gave a new turn to Katherine’s
thoughts too. Lady Somers! yes, that was what Stella was now. That
little title, though it was not an exalted one, would have an effect
upon the general opinion, however lofty might be the theories expressed,
as to the insignificance of rank. Rank; it was the lowest grade of
anything that could be called rank. And yet it would have a certain
effect on the general mind. She was even conscious of feeling it
herself, notwithstanding both the indignation and the sorrow in her
mind. “My sister, Lady Somers!” Was it possible that she could say it
with a certain pleasure, as if it explained more or less now (a question
which had always been so difficult) who the Tredgolds were, and what
they were worth in the island. Now Katherine suddenly realised that
people would say, “One of the daughters married Sir Charles Somers.” It
would be acknowledged that in that case the Tredgolds might be people to
know. Katherine’s pride revolted, yet her judgment recognised the truth
of it. And she wondered involuntarily if it would affect her father--if
he would think of that?
“Is my father awake yet, Simmons?” she asked.
“Beginning to stir, Miss Katherine,” Dolby said. “How clever they are,
them doctors, with their sleeping draffs and things! Oh, I’m quite
opposed to ’em. I don’t think as it’s right to force sleep or anything
as is contrary to the Almighty’s pleasure. But to be such nasty stuff,
the effeck it do have is wonderful. Your papa, as was so excited like
and ready to shoot all of us, right and left, he has slep’ like a baby
all these hours. And waking up now, Dolby says, like a lamb, and ready
for his breakfast.”
“I must go to him at once, Simmons,” cried Katherine, thrusting back
into Simmons’s hand the cup and the spoon.
“You won’t do nothing of the sort, Miss, if so be as you’ll be guided by
me. He’ll not think of it just at once, and he’ll eat his breakfast,
which will do him a lot of good, and if he don’t see you, why, he’ll
never remember as anything’s up. And then when he comes to think, Dolby
will call you, Miss Katherine, if the doctor isn’t here first, which
would be the best way.”
“I think I ought to go to him at once,” Katherine said. But she did not
do so. It was no pleasant task. His looks when he burst forth into those
oaths and curses (though she had herself felt not very long ago as if to
do the same might have been a relief to her surcharged and sickened
soul), and when he lay, with his keen small eyes gleaming red with
passion, in his bed, looking at her, came back to her with a shudder.
Perhaps she had not a very elevated ideal of a father. The name did not
imply justice or even tenderness to her mind. Katherine was well aware
that he had never done her justice all her life. He had been
kind--enough; but his kindness had been very different from the love he
had shown to Stella. He had elevated the younger sister over the elder
since ever the children had known how to distinguish between good and
evil. But still he was papa. It might be that an uneasy feeling that she
was not proud of her father had visited the girl’s mind more than once,
when she saw him among other men; but still he was papa just as Stella
was Stella, and therefore like no one else, whatever they might say or
do. She did not like to go to him again, to renew his misery and her
own, to hear him curse the girl whom he had adored, to see that dreadful
look as if of a fiend in his face. Her own feelings had fallen into a
sort of quietude now by means of exhaustion, and of the slow, slow
moments, which felt every one of them as if it were an hour.
It was some time longer before she was called. Mr. Tredgold had got up;
he had made his toilet, and gone down to his sitting-room, which
communicated with his bedroom by a little private staircase. And it was
only when he was there that his eyes fell on his clock, and he cried
with a start:
“Half-past twelve, and I just come downstairs! What does this mean--what
does it mean? Why wasn’t I called at the right time?”
“You had a--a restless night, sir,” said the man, trembling. (“Oh,
where’s that Miss Katherine, where’s that young person,” he said to
himself.)
“A restless night! And why had I a restless night? No supper, eh? Never
eat supper now. Girls won’t let me. Hollo! I begin to remember. Wasn’t
there an alarm of burglars? And none of you heard, you deaf fools;
nobody but me, an old man! I let go one barrel at them, eh? Enough to
send them all flying. Great fun that. And then Katherine,
Katherine--what do I remember about Katherine? Stopped me before I could
do anything, saying there was nobody. Fool, to mind what she said; quite
sure there was somebody, eh? Can’t you tell me what it was?”
“Don’t know, indeed, sir,” said the man, whose teeth were chattering
with fear.
“Don’t know, indeed! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Speak out, you
fool. Was it burglars----”
“No, sir. I think not, sir. I--don’t know what it was, sir. Something
about Miss---- about Miss----”
“About whom?” the old man cried.
“Oh, sir, have a little patience--it’s all right, it’s all right,
sir--just Miss Stella, sir, that--that is all right, sir--all safe,
sir,” the attendant cried.
Old Tredgold sat upright in his chair; he put his elbows on the table to
support his head. “Miss Stella!” he said with a sudden hoarseness in his
voice.
And then the man rushed out to summon Katherine, who came quietly but
trembling to the call.
He uncovered his face as she came in. It was ghastly pale, the two
gleaming points of the eyes glimmering out of it like the eyes of a wild
beast. “Stella, Stella!” he said hoarsely, and, seizing Katherine by the
arm, pressed her down upon a low chair close to him. “What’s all this
cock and a bull story?” he said.
“Oh, papa!”
He seized her again and shook her in his fury. “Speak out or I’ll--I’ll
kill you,” he said.
Her arm was crushed as in an iron vice. Body and soul she trembled
before him. “Papa, let me go or I can say nothing! Let me go!”
He gave her arm one violent twist and then he dropped it. “What are you
afraid of?” he said, with a gleam of those angry eyes. “Go on--go
on--tell me what happened last night.”
Katherine’s narrative was confused and broken, and Mr. Tredgold was not
usually a man of very clear intelligence. It must have been that his
recollections, sent into the background of his mind by the extreme shock
of last night, and by the opiate which had helped him to shake it off,
had all the time been working secretly within him through sleeping and
waking, waiting only for the outer framework of the story now told him.
He understood every word. He took it all up point by point, marking them
by the beating of his hand upon the arm of his chair. “That’s how it
was,” he said several times, nodding his head. He was much clearer about
it than Katherine, who did not yet realise the sequence of events or
that Stella was already Charlie Somers’s wife when she came innocently
back with her white flowers, and hung about her father at his luncheon,
doing everything possible to please him; but he perceived all this
without the hesitation of a moment and with apparent composure. “It was
all over, then,” he said to himself; “she had done it, then. She took us
in finely, you and me, Kate. We are a silly lot--to believe what
everyone tells us. She was married to a fine gentleman before she came
in to us all smiling and pleasant;” and, then, speaking in the same even
tone, he suddenly cursed her, without even a pause to distinguish the
words.
“Papa, papa!” Katherine cried, almost with a shriek.
“What is it, you little fool? You think perhaps I’ll say ‘Bless you, my
children,’ and have them back? They think so themselves, I shouldn’t
wonder; they’ll find out the difference. What about those diamonds that
I gave her instead of him--instead of----” And here he laughed, and in
the same steady tone bade God curse her again.
“I cannot hear you say that--I cannot, I cannot! Oh, God bless and take
care of my poor Stella! Oh, papa, little Stella, that you have always
been so fond of----”
Mr. Tredgold’s arm started forth as if it would have given a blow. He
dashed his fist in the air, then subsided again and laughed a low laugh.
“I shan’t pay for those diamonds,” he said. “I’ll send them back,
I’ll---- And her new clothes that she was to get--God damn her. She
can’t have taken her clothes, flying off from a ball by night.”
“Oh, what are clothes, or money, or anything, in comparison with
Stella!” Katherine said.
“Not much to you that don’t have to pay for them,” he said. “I shan’t
pay for them. Go and pack up the rags, don’t you hear? and bring me the
diamonds. She thinks we’ll send ’em after her.” And here the curse
again. “She shan’t have one of them, not one. Go and do what I tell you,
Katie. God damn her and her----”
“Oh, papa, for the sake of everything that is good! Yes, I will go--I
will go. What does it matter? Her poor little frocks, her----”
“They cost a deal of money all the same. And bring me the diamonds,” Mr.
Tredgold said.
And then there suddenly flashed upon Katherine a strange revelation, a
ludicrous tragic detail which did not seem laughable to her, yet was
so----“The diamonds,” she said faltering, half turning back on her way
to the door.
“Well! the diamonds?”
“Oh, forgive her, forgive her! She never could have thought of that; she
never could have meant it. Papa, for God’s sake, forgive her, and don’t
say--_that_ again. She was wearing them all at the ball. She was in her
ball dress. She had no time to change--she----”
He seized and shook her savagely as if she had been confessing a theft
of her own, and then rose up with his habitual chuckle in his throat.
“George, she’s done me,” he said. “She’s got her fortune on her back.
She’s--she’s a chip of the old block, after all.” He dropped down again
heavily in his chair, and then with a calm voice, looking at Katherine,
said tranquilly, “God damn her” once more.