LADY OSWALD'S JOURNEY.
Mr. Marcus Cray's marriage had taken place on a Thursday, and the time
went on to the following Saturday week with little to mark it. Enough,
as events were unhappily to turn out, was to mark it then. They,
Marcus Cray and his wife, were expected home that evening: but it is
not with them that we have just at present to do.
On this Saturday morning, Oswald Cray had come down to Hallingham on
business connected with the line. In the course of the day he called
on Lady Oswald, and found her in a state not easy to describe. That
very morning certain men had been seen on her grounds, marking off the
small portion of its boundaries intended to be taken for the sheds.
Convinced that all her hopes of immunity had been but vain dreams, she
had become angry, hysterical, almost violent. Oswald Cray had never
seen her like this.
It was an illustration of the misery we may inflict upon ourselves,
the evil spirit that will arise from self-grievance. In point of fact,
these sheds, to be built on a remote and low portion of her land,
could not prove any real annoyance to Lady Oswald; she would not see
them from her window; she did not go, ever, near the spot. The
grievance lay in her imagination; she had made it a bugbear, and there
it was. In vain Oswald Cray pointed out to her that it had been the
same thing with regard to the rail itself. When she first heard it was
to skirt her grounds, she had been as alarmed as she was now; but when
the work was complete, the trains were actually running, then Lady
Oswald found (though she did not acknowledge it) how void of reason
her alarm had been; had the trains been fifty miles off she could not
have seen less of them. It would be so with regard to the sheds,
Oswald Cray told her; he told her that even a less portion of the
ground would be taken than was at first intended: he did not add that
he, by his persistent efforts in her cause, had obtained this little
concession, but he might have told her so with truth. He assured her
that the thing _could not_ prove an annoyance to her. All in vain. He
might just as well have talked to the winds. She would not listen.
Parkins sat 'n tears, administering specifics for the "nerves," and
entreating my lady to be tranquil. My lady replied by saying she
should never be tranquil again, and she actually abused Mr. Oswald
Cray.
"Nay," said Oswald, good-humouredly, "it is your landlord you should
blame, not me. He agreed to the thing instanter--the moment it was
proposed to him."
Lady Oswald's cheeks were burning as she turned to Oswald. "If he had
refused, instead of consented, what then? Could they have done it in
spite of him?"
"It would have been done eventually, I suppose. Not just yet: the
company would have had to bargain with him, perhaps to dispute the
matter with him legally: and all that takes time."
"Had he persistently contended against it, the company might have
grown weary; have ended by fixing upon some other spot for their
sheds," she breathlessly cried, the excitement on her face deepening.
Mr. Oswald Cray hesitated. "It is possible, certainly; but"--
"I will go to him," broke in Lady Oswald. "I will go to Low this very
hour."
She started from her seat, upsetting a bottle which Parkins held in
her hand, almost upsetting Parkins herself in her vehemence. Mr.
Oswald Cray gently restrained her.
"My dear Lady Oswald, you will do no good by going to Low now. It is
too late. The thing has gone too far."
"It has not gone too far, Oswald Cray. So long as the sheds are not
begun it cannot be too late. If Low did give his consent, he can
retract it. The land is freehold, and freehold land cannot be seized
upon lightly. Get my things, Parkins, and order the carriage." And
Parkins submissively retired to obey.
"Lady Oswald, believe me," said Oswald, impressively, "Mr. Low cannot
now retract his consent if he would. The agreement is signed; nay, I
believe the money is paid. Your going to him will do no possible good;
it can only be productive of further unpleasantness to yourself."
"Have you a motive in keeping me away from him?" asked Lady Oswald,
and his brow momentarily contracted at her blind pertinacity. "Do you
know that I have never once seen him upon this subject I--never once."
"No!" he said, really wondering at the omission.
"I would not go to see him; I was too angry; I contented myself with
writing to him, and telling him what I thought; and then, you know,
until this blessed morning, when Jones came into the house with the
news that the men were measuring the land, I never thought the thing
would be really done. I will go to him now, Oswald Cray, and all you
can say against it will not avail with me. If you had any courtesy you
would accompany me, and add your voice to mine against this
unjustifiable wrong."
Courtesy was an adjunct in which Oswald Cray was not naturally
deficient; in time, that day, he _was_. The business which brought him
down was pressing, must have his full attention, and be finished so as
to enable him to return to town that night. He had snatched these few
minutes, while the clerks at the company's offices were at dinner,
just to see Lady Oswald.
"It would give me great pleasure to escort you anywhere, Lady Oswald,
but today I really cannot absent myself from Hallingham. I have my
hands full. Besides," he added, a frank smile on his face, "have you
forgotten how impossible it would be for me to go against the
agreement made by the company with Mr. Low, by soliciting that
gentleman to attempt to retract it?"
"I see," said Lady Oswald, beating her foot pettishly on the carpet;
"better that I had called anybody to my aid than you. Are you
cherishing resentment against me, Oswald Cray?"
Oswald Cray opened his dark blue eyes in surprise.
"Resentment?--against you, Lady Oswald! Indeed I do not understand
you."
"I thought you might be remembering what I said at Dr. Davenal's the
evening of your brother's wedding. I mean about the money; which I
said I could _not_ leave you," she continued in a low tone. "You took
me up so sharply."
"I fear I did. I was vexed that you could so misapprehend my nature.
We need not recur to the subject, Lady Oswald. Let it pass."
"I must say a word first, Oswald. I believe, with all your fiery
pride, and your aptitude to take offence, that your nature is honest
and true; that you would save me from annoyance if you could."
"I would indeed," he interrupted earnestly. "Even from this threatened
annoyance I would doubly save you, if it were at all within my power."
"Well, I want to say just this. I have always liked you very well; you
have been, in fact, a favourite of mine; and many a time it has
occurred to me to wish that I could put you down in my will"----
Lady Oswald, I pray you"----
"Now do be quiet, and hear me. I consider it a duty to myself to tell
you this, and I always intended to tell you before my death. I fully
believe what you say; that you do not wish for my money, that you
would prefer to make your own way; I say I fully believe that, Oswald.
There are some men--honourable to fastidiousness, I call them--who are
utterly incapable of casting a thought or a wish to the money of
others: you are one, as I believe; and there's the additional bar in
your case with regard to my money, that it comes from the Oswalds. I
don't think you would accept money in whatever form it came to you,
from the Oswald family."
"I don't think I would," replied Oswald. And he spoke the truth of his
heart.
"Still, I judge it right to give you this little word of explanation,"
she proceeded. "I daresay, whenever my will comes to be read, that you
will feel surprised at its contents; may even deem that you had more
legal claim upon me than he who will chiefly inherit. I do not think
so. I have left my money to please myself: he to whom it is left has
the best claim upon me in my judgment. I am happy to know that he will
be rewarded: and he knows it."
Oswald felt a little puzzled: the words "and he knows it" somewhat
excited his curiosity. With her own family, who alone (in Oswald
Cray's opinion) could be said to have claims on Lady Oswald, she held
but little communication: and a conviction stole over him that she did
not allude to them. He was destined (as it proved) never to forget
those words; and the construction he put upon them was, that the
future inheritor of the money knew he was named as the inheritor. He
said nothing. It was not a subject he cared to pursue; he had neither
right nor inclination to inquire as to the disposal of what Lady
Oswald might leave behind her. Had he dreamt of the ill those words
would work, he might have asked further particulars.
"I thought I'd say this to you some time, Oswald. Had you been less
fiercely proud, and I more at liberty to dispose of what I have to
leave, I should regret not remembering you. As it is, perhaps all's
for the best."
That again struck upon him as strange: "I more at liberty to dispose
of what I have to leave." Was she not at full and entire liberty?--if
so, why was she not? The question set Oswald thinking.
But circumstances seemed inclined to prove themselves stronger than
Lady Oswald's will, in regard to this visit to her landlord. Her
coachman made his appearance with hindering news; one of the carriage
horses had fallen lame.
"Accept it as an omen that the visit would have brought forth no good
luck," said Oswald Cray, with a smile, while Jones stood, deprecating
his lady's anger.
A doubt flashed across her mind for a moment whether the excuse was
real, and the amazed Jones had to repeat it, and to assure his
mistress that he was going "right off" for the veterinary surgeon
then.
"It will not avail," said Lady Oswald. "I shall go by train. Perhaps
you can tell me, Oswald Cray, at what hours the trains leave for
Hildon!"
Oswald Cray said not another word of objection. To make use of the
railroad, to which her dislike had been so insuperable, proved that
she was indeed bent upon it. He bade her good-day and left, and
encountered Dr. Davenal's carriage in the avenue. The doctor was
arriving on his usual daily visit.
She was somewhat of a capricious woman, Lady Oswald. A few months
before, in the summer-time, Dr. Davenal had been hoping, it may almost
be said secretly plotting--but the plotting was very innocent--to get
Lady Oswald to favour Mark Cray sufficiently to allow of _his_ paying
these daily visits. Since then Lady Oswald had, of her own accord,
become excessively attached to Mark. That is, attached in one sense of
the word. It was not the genuine esteem founded on long intimacy, the
love, it may be almost said, that draws one friend to another; it was
that artificial liking which suddenly arises, and has its result in
praising and patronising; artificial because so shallow. In the new
feeling, Lady Oswald had not only sanctioned Mark's visits to her in
the place of Dr. Davenal, but she had recommended him to everybody she
knew as the cleverest young surgeon in Hallingham or out of it. It had
been Mark's luck speedily to cure some fancied or real ailment of Lady
Oswald's in a notably short space of time, and Lady Oswald, who set it
down to skill, really had taken up the notion that he had not his
equal. We all know how highly-coloured for the time are these sudden
estimations of a popular doctor's skill. None rejoiced more than Dr.
Davenal, and he resigned Lady Oswald to Mark with inward satisfaction,
and the best grace in the world. But during Mark's absence on his
wedding-tour the doctor had taken again the daily visits.
Roger pulled up in the gravel drive when he saw Mr. Oswald Cray; but
Oswald, who had out-stayed his time, could only shake hands with the
doctor and hasten onwards. Parkins met Dr. Davenal surreptitiously as
he entered: she had seen his approach, and she stole forwards on
tiptoe to meet him, her tears dropping. When Lady Oswald was in her
fretful moods, Parkins generally found refuge in tears.
"What's the matter now?" asked the doctor.
"The men have begun to measure the ground, and that stupid Jones came
running open-mouthed to the house with the news, and my lady heard
him," explained Parkins. "I'd not have told her: if people held their
tongues, the sheds might be built, and up, and she never know it. I
thought she'd have gone out of her mind, sir; and then Mr. Oswald Cray
came in, and he talked to her. I think she's calmer now; I heard her
talking quietly to Mr. Oswald Cray before he left. But she says she'll
go off by rail to Mr. Low's."
"Is she in the drawing-room?"
"Yes, sir. So well, to be sure, as she was this morning!" continued
Parkins, drying her tears. "I don't know when she has been in such
spirits, and all because Mr. Cray was coming home tonight with his
wife. The fancy she has taken for him is extraordinary: she has been
counting the days off since he was away, like a schoolgirl counts them
off before her holidays?"
Dr. Davenal entered. He did not attempt to reason Lady Oswald out of
the visit to Mr. Low. Quite the contrary. He told her the short trip
by rail would do her good: and he thought, which he did _not_ tell
her, that the interview with Mr. Low might set the affair at rest
sooner than anything else would, by convincing her that there could be
no appeal against the fiat, no delay in the carrying out of the work.
When Lady Oswald reached the station, it happened that Oswald Cray was
there. He was emerging from one of the private rooms with some plans
under his arm when he saw her. She looked scared at the bustle of the
station, and was leaning helplessly on her maid's arm, uncertain where
to go, what to do. Oswald hastened to her and took her on his arm.
Parkins slipped behind, quite thankful to see him: she was as little
used to the ways and confusion of a station as her mistress.
"Will you venture still, Lady Oswald, with all this turmoil?"
"Will you cease worrying me!" she answered, and the tone was a sharp
one, for she fancied he still wished to stop her, and resented the
intermeddling with her will.
_Did_ he wish to stop her? If any such feeling was upon him, it must
surely have been instinct: a prevision of what the ill-fated journey
would bring forth; of the influence it would indirectly bear on his
own future life.
He said no more. He led Lady Oswald at once to a first-class carriage,
placed her and Parkins in it, procured their return tickets, and then
leaned over the carriage-door and talked to Lady Oswald, ill as he
could spare the time. No man had kinder feelings at heart than Oswald
Cray, and it seemed to him scarcely courteous to leave her--for she
was in a tremor still--until the train should start.
He talked to her in a gay laughing tone of indifferent subjects, and
she grew more at ease. "Only think!" she suddenly exclaimed, "I may
return with Mr. Cray and his wife! Dr. Davenal told me today they were
expected early in the evening; and this is the way they must come. I
shall be so glad when he is home!"
Oswald shook his head at her with mock seriousness. "I'd not
acknowledge my faithlessness so openly, were I you, Lady Oswald. To
turn off Dr. Davenal for Mark, after so many years' adhesion to him!"
"You know nothing about it, Oswald. I have not turned off Dr. Davenal.
But you may depend upon one thing--that Mark is a rising man. He will
make a greater name than you in the world."
"Very likely. I hope he will make a name. For myself"----
The whistle sounded, and Oswald drew away from the door. Lady Oswald
put out her hand, and he shook it warmly. "Shall I see you on my
return!"
"Possibly, just a glimpse," he answered. "I'll look out for you when
the train comes in. Goodbye."
"But you'll wish me luck, Oswald--although you may be bound in honour
to the interests of the enemy and those wretched sheds."
"I wish it you heartily and sincerely; in all ways, Lady Oswald."
His tone was hearty as his words, his clasp sincere. Lady Oswald
withdrew her hand, and left him a pleasant, cordial smile as the train
puffed on.
"One can't help liking him, Parkins, with all his obstinate
contrariness," she cried. "I wish he had been the surgeon! Only think
what a name he would have made, had he possessed his brother's
talent!"
"So he would, my lady," dutifully acquiesced Parkins.
"What a good thing we are alone! Most likely he contrived it. I
declare I don't dislike this," continued Lady Oswald, ranging her eyes
round the well-stuffed compartment. "It is almost as private as my own
carriage."
"So it is, my lady," answered Parkins. And the train went smoothly on,
and in twenty minutes' time Lady Oswald was deposited safely at the
Hildon station.