CHANGES AND CHANCES.
"One half our cares and woes
Exist but in our thoughts;
And lightly fall the rest on those
Who with them wrestle not.
The feather scarcely feels the gale
Which bursts the seaman's strongest sail."
_C. Wesley._
Things went on tranquilly for the next few days. Garth looked a
little shame-faced when he next saw his sister, but he knew her too
well to fear that an unready confidence would be solicited. Langley
never asked to know people's secrets. If they reposed them in her
they found her trustworthy and sympathizing. She had eased her
conscience by warning her brother, and now her duty was discharged
her heart was full of forebodings for their old friend Dora; and a
feeling that was almost akin to disappointment troubled her when she
thought of Garth's changed fealty. "_Toujours fidele_" had been her
motto for him as well as for herself, and yet, of the two girls her
heart clave more to Queenie. Garth had no intention of reposing
confidence in any one. He hid his feelings as well as he could,
assuming at times an uneasy gravity that did not belong to him; but
the usual symptoms were not lacking. He became enamored of his own
company, addicted to solitary walks and an over-much use of
meditation, was somewhat absent and desultory in his conversation,
and haunted the lane with his cigar at all manner of unseemly hours.
Queenie was not unmindful of this change in Garth. It may be doubted
whether women are ever entirely unconscious of even a hidden passion;
trifles are significant in such cases. A certain subtle change in
Garth's tone, a hesitation, nay, a reluctance in speaking her name, a
swift unguarded look, brought a sweet conviction to her mind: Dora
must be forgotten. A rosy flush of hope, bright as her own youth,
dawned slowly upon her.
Queenie was sitting alone one evening, late in November, thinking
over these things. It struck her with a little surprise that she had
not seen her friends at Church-Stile House for two days; such a thing
had never happened before. She and Emmie had spent the previous
evening at Juniper Lodge; Cathy had been expected and had not made
her appearance, and she had also omitted her usual afternoon visit at
the cottage. A fleeting glimpse of Garth as he drove by in his
dog-cart was all that was vouchsafed her. Even Langley had been
invisible. "If it were not so late I would run up the lane and see
what has become of them," thought Queenie, with a slight feeling of
uneasiness.
It was followed by a sensation of relief as the little gate unlatched
and footsteps came up the gravel walk; but it was only Miss Cosie,
with her grey shawl pinned over her curls, and a voluminous mass of
soft knitting in her hand.
"Dear Miss Cosie, to think of your coming out such a bitter night!
and I thought it was Cathy," exclaimed Queenie, pouncing on the
little woman with vehement hospitality, and depositing her, smiling
and breathless, on an easy-chair.
"There now, my dear, it was all Christopher's thought, at least he
put it into my head," began Miss Cosie, in her purring voice. "There
I was going on, purl two, knit two together, knit plain, and so on,
and nothing but the wrong stitches coming uppermost; and Christopher,
poor fellow, couldn't stand it any longer. 'What's to do with you
to-night, Charlotte,' he says. 'I think the work has got into your
head; hadn't you better leave it for Miss Marriott to put right?' for
I just fussed him, you see, counting out loud and never getting any
farther."
"Do you mean that you could not get on with the new pattern I was
teaching you the other night?"
"Well, my memory's treacherous, that's what it is," returned Miss
Cosie, placidly regarding the pink and white tangle that Queenie was
rectifying. "'Charlotte, my love, your head is just a sieve, and
your fingers are all thumbs,' as my poor dear mother used to say when
I took my work to her. Dear, dear, I can hear her say it now; but
wasn't it clever of Christopher to pop the idea into my mind. 'I
will just run across to her, Kit my dear,' I replied, as pleased as
possible, and he gave quite a comfortable sigh of relief."
"Poor Mr. Logan!" laughed Queenie. "You must learn to count to
yourself, Miss Cosie; knit one and purl two is not a very pleasant
running accompaniment to the leading article."
"Bless you, dearie, Christopher was not reading!" responded the
little woman with a sigh, "he was just staring at the fire and
groaning to himself in a quiet way. Though he has said very little
about it he feels it terribly; he was as pale as a man could look
when he came home and told me last night. 'I feel it as much as
though it had happened to myself, Charlotte,' he said; and I believe,
poor fellow, he meant it."
"Dear Miss Cosie! what can you be talking about?" asked Queenie in a
perplexed voice. "Is there any trouble in Hepshaw with which I am
unacquainted?"
"There, there, you don't mean to say they have not told you?" replied
Miss Cosie in an awe-stricken whisper, "and such friends as you are,
too. Ill news fly apace, they say. Well, the righteous are taken
away from the evil to come. His poor mother would have fretted her
heart out to see him look as he does to-night, poor dear! and not a
wink of sleep and scarce a mouthful of food since he first heard it,
and that was yesterday morning, so Christopher says."
"Dear Miss Cosie! won't you please tell me what you mean?" begged
Queenie beseechingly.
Miss Cosie was apt to become incoherent and rambling under any strong
emotion, it would never do to hurry her into an explanation; but, all
the same, these vague hints were filling her with dismay.
"I have not heard of anything: is--is there any trouble at
Church-Stile House?" faltered the girl, growing a little pale over
her words.
"Dear, dear! who would have thought of such a thing? what could
Catherine have been thinking of?" cried Miss Cosie, patting her curls
nervously. "Never mind, there, don't distress yourself, for there's
good come out of every kind of evil, so Christopher tells us; and
very beautiful his sermons are, my dear, and very comforting to sick
souls; and it showed great want of faith in me to burst out crying as
I did. 'Don't tell me that that poor young fellow has lost all his
money, Kit, my dear!' I said, 'for it breaks my heart to think of
such a thing;' and Christopher said--"
"Well, what did Mr. Logan say?" asked Queenie as calmly as she could,
while Miss Cosie wiped her eyes.
There was not an atom of color in her face. Could it be Garth of
whom she was speaking?
"Christopher said," responded the little woman in a trembling voice,
"'I am afraid it is all true. Charlotte,' he said, 'there has been a
run on the Bank, and things look as bad as they can look; and I
shouldn't be surprised if that poor fellow has lost every shilling he
has invested.' That's what Kit said, my dear, and a great deal more
that I did not take in."
"Is it Mr. Clayton of whom you are speaking?" persisted Queenie, in a
set voice.
"Yes; that poor boy Garth. He and Christopher have been together all
day looking into things. Christopher says he is as cool and quiet as
possible, for all his haggard looks, only they can't get him to touch
his food; and when a fine young man like that won't eat, it shows
things have gone badly with him, as Christopher says."
"I must go and see Langley," exclaimed the girl, starting up. "Dear
Miss Cosie, please don't think me rude; but I cannot stay away from
them now I know they are in trouble! It is not so very late, is it?
but I could not sleep if I did not see them to-night."
"No, no; of course not, my dear. I should have felt the same in your
case," replied Miss Cosie placidly. She always agreed with every
one, and would break off contentedly in an engrossing conversation at
the slightest hint of weariness. "If you have set my work right I
will just go back to Christopher, for he is very down, poor dear,
over all this, and will no more take his supper without me than a
baby would cut up its own food. There, there, my dear, I won't keep
you," as Queenie hovered near her in feverish impatience; and the
girl accepted her dismissal thankfully.
She ran up the lane, regardless of the rain that beat down on her
uncovered head. Her glossy hair was quite wet when she entered the
warm room where Langley and Cathy were sitting together. Contrary to
their usual custom, the sisters were quite unoccupied: Langley was
lying back, as though wearied out, in her basket-chair; Cathy was
sitting on the rug staring into the fire. Both of them looked up
with an exclamation of surprise when they saw Queenie.
"So late, and in this rain!" cried Langley, affectionately passing
her hand over the girl's wet hair as she spoke.
"What does it matter?--the rain I mean. I have only just heard; Miss
Cosie has told me. Do you think I could sleep until I heard more?
and Cathy has not been near me!" with a reproachful glance at her
friend.
"You must not blame Cathy; she wanted to come to you to-night, only
Garth and I would not let her. One ought not to be in a hurry to
tell bad news; to-morrow would have been soon enough," replied
Langley in her tired, soft voice.
"Did not Mr. Clayton--did not your brother wish me to know?"
stammered Queenie, somewhat nervously. Had she intruded herself
where she was not wanted? would they think her officious, interfering?
Langley's calmness was baffling. Cathy, indeed, looked as if she had
been crying, but she kept her face averted and did not speak.
"I will go back if I am not wanted, if I am not to know," faltered
the girl, growing red and confused.
"Nonsense, Queen! as though the whole world won't know it by
to-morrow!" exclaimed Cathy sharply. "Do you think it is a secret
when people are ruined?"
"Oh, it is not as bad as that!" shrinking at the idea. "Miss Cosie
was so vague; she said he had lost money, that something had happened
to the Bank; you know her way. It was impossible to understand; and
then I said I must go to Langley."
"Things are as bad as they can be," replied Langley sorrowfully,
while Cathy shivered a little, and drew closer to the fire. "The
shock has been so bad for Garth; nothing could have been more sudden
and unexpected. We were all as cheerful as possible yesterday
morning, and then the letter came from Garth's solicitor; and when
Garth went over to A---- to investigate the matter, it was all too
true. There had been a panic, and run on the local Bank; the
thoroughfare was quite blocked up with people, farmers and
tradespeople, wanting to draw out their money. Of course, with such
a run there was only one result, the Bank broke, and all Garth's
hard-earned savings are lost. It was between two and three thousand
pounds that he had invested; not much of a fortune to some people,
but a large sum for so young a man to put by. The worst is,"
continued Langley, sighing, "that Garth will blame himself for what
has happened. Mr. Logan has always advised him to bank with a London
House, and he had made up his mind to do so; but for some reason he
has delayed the transfer of the money, and now it is too late; and he
will have it that his procrastination has ruined us."
Queenie pondered a little over Langley's account, and then her face
brightened.
"It is sad, very sad, of course, to lose so much money, but it is not
absolute ruin; there is the quarry, your brother has still got that."
"But Garth only rents it. You see there is the rent to pay, and a
royalty besides, and all the workmen's wages; and just now there is a
dearth of orders, and the men are asking higher pay. And now all
Garth's ready money is gone, and there is no one rich enough in
Hepshaw to advance him the few hundreds that are necessary to carry
on the works. We are trying to make the best of it, Cathy and I, for
poor Ted is so utterly hopeless; but we do not see what is to be
done."
"Is there no one who could help you?" demanded Queenie in a low
voice, but Cathy struck in impatiently.
"Do you think money is to be picked up in Hepshaw for the asking?
there is not a friend we possess who could advance the loan, even if
Garth would accept it. Captain Fawcett has only his pension and a
small annuity, and Mr. Logan is as poor as a church-mouse, though I
believe both he and Miss Cosie have expectations from some old aunt
or other, who objects to die. We have not a relation in the world;
never were there such distressed orphans," continued Cathy, in a
droll, disconsolate voice, that at another time would have made
Queenie laugh.
"Cathy is right; I do not see who is to advance us the loan," added
her sister dejectedly. "We do not quite understand the details, but
Ted assures us that it is absolutely necessary that two or three
hundred pounds should be forthcoming in the course of a week or two,
or Garth will be compelled to throw up the whole concern."
"Yes," broke in Cathy; "and when Ted said that Garth turned round
upon him quite angrily, and asked how he was to lay himself under
such heavy obligations that he would never be able to repay. Then
they had almost a quarrel over it. Poor Garth was so sore and
unhappy; he says he has never owed a penny in his life to any man."
"How large a sum do you think would clear him?" asked Queenie
casually, but two feverish spots burnt in her cheek.
"Ted said about six or seven hundred was required to put them on
their feet again. There are some workmen's cottages Garth has been
building, and the architect's bill is not paid. We have only Ted's
word to rely on, for we cannot get Garth to open his lips to us. He
just says in a resigned, hard sort of voice, that it is all up with
us, and he and Ted must take situations; and then he looks at Langley
and me and goes out of the room."
"His work is the best part of his life; he is so proud of his
position," put in Langley. "Garth's nature is so proud and
independent; he is so accustomed to be master of all his actions that
he would feel dreadfully at being placed in a subordinate position."
"Why will you aggravate me by saying such dreadful things,"
interrupted Cathy stormily, but the tears sprang to her eyes. "I
won't think of Warstdale without Garth. Why it would break his heart
to give up the quarry."
"Some one must lend him the money just to go on," observed Queenie in
a low voice. "Surely there must be some friend who will assist him
in this matter."
"We do not know where such a friend is to be found," returned Cathy.
"One thing, I am determined to begin my hospital work without delay,
and if things come to their worst Langley must go out as a companion.
It seems hard breaking up the dear old home that we have lived in all
our lives. Ted says if it ever comes to that Garth will never hold
up his head again."
"Ted seems a Job's comforter," returned Queenie, but her eyes
overflowed with sympathy, for the girl's voice was very sad. "My
poor dears, what am I to say to you, it is all so sudden and
dreadful?"
"Ah, that it is."
"I don't see that it makes it any better to talk about it,"
interrupted Cathy, springing up in a fit of nervous impatience. "We
are only making Queenie miserable, and it does no one any good. I am
going to see if I cannot coax Garth to eat some supper. I shall tell
him that it won't benefit the rest of the family for one member to
starve himself."
"Poor Cathy! she feels this terribly," sighed Langley, as the door
closed on her, "but she will not let Garth see how much she takes it
to heart. If it were not for Cathy and Ted I think I could bear this
better, but it does seem so hard if we cannot keep the home for them."
"Langley, don't you think Mr. Chester could help your brother?"
Queenie was almost sorry that she spoke so abruptly when she saw how
the worn face flushed at the question. The suggestion was evidently
a painful one.
"Hush! if you knew how I have dreaded some one proposing this! but
Garth will not, he respects me too much for that. Harry is very
often embarrassed himself. Gertrude is so extravagant, and then
there are such heavy doctor's bills; but if he knew of our difficulty
I am sure he would sell his land rather than not help us. Oh,
Queenie," and here Langley's voice grew thin and husky with emotion,
"promise me that you will not hint at such a thing to any one."
"Dear Langley, of course I will promise, if you wish it," shocked at
the agitation she had caused.
"Yes; and you will go home now, and sleep quietly," folding the
girl's hand between her own. "You must not take our troubles too
much to heart. As Cathy says, that will do no one any good; perhaps
in a few days we may see our way a little clearer."
"I will go, if you wish it," replied Queenie gently. And indeed what
more could she find to say to this patient creature who was looking
at her with such tired eyes. "Dear, dear Langley, if you only knew
how sorry I am for you all!" she said, kissing her, and then she went
away.
But she was not able to leave the house unobserved; the door of
Garth's study was open as she passed. As he caught sight of her, he
came forward slowly and, as it seemed to Queenie, a little
reluctantly.
"I did not know you were here; what brings you out so late?" he asked
with a little surprise, and then he mechanically stretched out his
hand and took down his felt hat to accompany her down the lane.
"There is no need for that, it is not so very late," returned Queenie
hurriedly. "I only came to see Langley, and--and because I heard
there was some trouble."
Queenie hardly knew what she was saying in her confusion and
nervousness; now they were face to face what could she find to say to
him.
"All the same, that need not prevent my walking with you," he
returned quietly. He spoke in his ordinary manner, but Queenie
noticed that his face was very pale and his eyes had dark lines under
them; he had avoided looking at her too, and his hand when it touched
hers had been cold and shook a little. "It has left off raining, and
the stars are coming out overhead, so there is no fear of your
getting wet."
"I am not afraid of getting wet," she replied with a little nervous
laugh. When they were outside the gate be slackened his steps a
little.
"So they have told you about everything?" he said in rather a forced
tone.
"Yes; they have told me everything," she returned simply, "and, Mr.
Clayton, I do not know what to say, except that I am more sorry than
I can tell you."
"I always knew we might count on your sympathy."
"It seems such a dreadful thing to have happened, so utterly
unexpected."
"You may well say that. If an earthquake had yawned under my feet it
could not have been a greater shock. I thought myself so safe, in
such absolute security, and now my foolhardiness has gone near to
ruin us."
"Ah, you must not say that."
"Why must I not say it? A man must call himself names and speak
badly of himself if he has proved himself an utter fool. Have I not
been a fool to procrastinate in the way I have done, and to neglect
the advice given me?"
"No; you ought not to be so hard on yourself. You have worked all
these years, and all your hard-earned savings are lost; every one
must pity you for such a misfortune, there is no room for blame,
none."
"Ah, if I could only believe that. Do you know, my remorse for my
carelessness has been such that I have scarcely eaten or slept since
the news came. I cannot forgive myself for bringing all this trouble
upon them."
"Hush! this is worse than wrong; it is utterly morbid and wicked. Do
not the wisest men in the world make mistakes sometimes? Could you
know that the Bank was unsafe, and that there would be this run on
it?"
"But all the same, I am reaping the fruits of my imprudence," he
returned, but his tone was a little less gloomy.
The knowledge of this girl's sympathy was very precious to him. A
little comfort dawned on him in his misery.
"It makes things so much worse when we blame ourselves," she went on.
"It seems to me you want all your strength for actual endurance, from
what Langley tells me. Your difficulties are very great."
"I am ruined," he returned in a choked voice. And then in a few
brief sentences he recapitulated much that his sisters had told her,
the absolute need of ready money for the architect's and builder's
account, as well as for the rent and workmen's wages.
"Things have never been at such a low ebb with us before. We have
executed fewer orders this year than any previous years. I had no
business to speculate on those cottages. I don't see how matters are
to go on at all. In a few weeks' time you will see my name on the
bankruptcy list, and then there will be nothing but for Ted and me to
look out for situations."
"Oh, Mr. Clayton, I cannot bear to hear you talk so; something must
turn up, some help must come," repeated the girl, earnestly.
Her face was flushed in the darkness, and her eyes full of tears, but
he could not see that; perhaps he detected it in her tone, for his
changed instantly.
"But I have no right to bother you with all this wretched business,
or to keep you out here in the cold," for they were standing now by
the little gate. "Good night, Miss Marriott. I know you are sorry
for us, but we must not burthen other people with our troubles."
"But I like to be burthened. You must not treat me as a stranger,"
she replied, putting her hand in his. "If I do not say much about
all this it is because I am so very sorry, and I do not know how to
comfort you; but, all the same, I believe something will turn up."
"Let us hope so," he returned, with a pretence at cheerfulness, and
then he left her and went back to the house.
He had made no unmanly moan over his misfortunes, but his heart was
sick within him as he thought of the future. He had lost his money
and perhaps his home, and must he lose this sweet new hope that had
come to him? If he were a poor man could he ever dare to trammel
himself with a wife? and the thought of shutting out this new-found
happiness was very bitter to him.
"There is enough to bear without thinking of that to-night," he said
to himself, with a sort of shudder, as he shut himself up in his
solitary room; but, all the same, Queenie's soft words haunted him
with strange persistence.
He would have marvelled greatly if he could have heard what she
whispered as he left her.
"Oh, how ungrateful I have been, how utterly foolish. I can thank
heaven now that I have five thousand a-year."