MORE INSTILLED DOUBT.
The air was keen and frosty, and the flags of the streets were white
and clean--not a common feature in November--as they walked forth.
Oswald could but admire this straightforward Scotch girl, with her
open speech and her plain good sense. She was so young in appearance
that he could only think of her as a girl, though she had herself
reminded him that she was older than Frank. This, as he knew, must
bring her to a year or two past thirty: and in steadiness of manner
and solid independence she was two-and-forty.
Reared in her Highland home, in every comfort for the earlier years of
her life, she had since had to buffet with the world. Her mother, a
widow since Frank was two years old, had enjoyed a good income, but it
died with her. The uncle in London took Frank, who was then a youth;
and Jane had to seek a situation. It was not easy to find. For a
governess she was not qualified, so many of what are called
accomplishments are essential nowadays, and Jane Allister had not
learnt them. She had received a good education, but a strictly plain
one.
Waiting and waiting! No situation offered itself; and when she heard
of Mrs. Graham's she was well-nigh wearied out with the worst of all
weariness--that of long-continued disappointment, of hope deferred.
But for that weariness she might not have accepted a place where she
was to be personal attendant as well as companion. She took it,
determined to do her duty in it, to make the very best of it; and when
her brother Frank wrote to her in a commotion from his distant home in
London, where he was then with Bracknell and Street, she began by
making the very best of it to him, gaily and lightly. Frank had the
letter yet, in which she had jokingly called him--as she had just
related to Mr. Oswald Cray--a proud boy, and recommended him to "bring
down" his notions. Frank Allister had never been reconciled to it yet.
Jane had grown to like it; and she had remained there all these years,
conscientiously doing her duty.
"Have you lost a friend lately?" she inquired, in allusion to the
crape band on Oswald's hat.
"Yes," he briefly answered, wincing at the question, could Jane
Allister have seen it. All that past time of Lady Oswald's death, and
the events attending it, caused an inward shiver whenever they were
brought to his mind.
"It is a grievous thing to lose relatives when they are dear to us,"
remarked Jane. "There is an expression in your countenance at times
that tells me you have some source of sorrow."
Whatever the expression she had noticed on his countenance, she would
have seen a very marked one now, had they been, as before, face to
face near a table-lamp. The old haughty pride came into it, and his
brow flushed blood-red. Oswald Cray was one of the very last to
tolerate that his secret feelings should be observed or commented
upon. As she spoke it seemed to him as if the pain at his heart was
read, his hopeless love for Sara Davenal laid bare.
"You are drawing a wrong inference, Miss Allister," he coldly said.
"The friend I lost was neither near nor very dear to me. She was an
old lady; a connection of my mother's family--Lady Oswald."
Jane marked the changed tone. She concluded the loss _was_ one of pain
to him, though he did not choose to say so, and she gathered her
deductions that he was a man of great reticence of feeling. That he
was a brave man and a good man, one in every way worthy of trust, of
esteem, she knew from Frank long ago.
"Why, Neal! Is it you?"
Mr. Oswald Cray came to an abrupt halt in his surprise. Turning out of
the door of a house that they were passing, so quickly as nearly to
brush against him, was Dr. Davenal's manservant. Neal did not appear
in the least taken to. He touched his hat and stood still with just
the same equanimity that he would have done had he been waiting there
for the passing of Mr. Oswald Cray.
"What has brought you to London, Neal? You have surely not left Dr.
Davenal?"
"O no, sir, I have not left. A brother of mine, sir, has returned to
England after an absence from it of many years, and a little property
of ours, that couldn't be touched while he was away, is now being
divided. I spoke to Dr. Davenal, and he gave me leave to come."
"Have you been up long?"
"Only three days, sir."
"Are they all well at Hallingham?"
"Quite well, sir. Mr. Cray hurt his arm as he was getting out of the
doctor's carriage, and it was bound up for a week. But it is better."
"How did he manage that?"
"I don't think he knew, sir. His foot slipped as he was stepping out,
and he swung round in some way, keeping hold of the carriage with his
hand bent behind. It was rather a bad sprain."
"Miss Davenal is quite well?"
"Yes, sir. Miss Sara has had a cold lately, and is looking ill. The
captain went abroad, sir, without coming to Hallingham, and they all
felt it much."
Oswald bade the man goodnight, and walked on. He did not care, in his
fastidious sensitiveness, to hear the looks of Sara Davenal commented
on. If she did look ill, was it for his, Oswald's, sake!--or was she
haunted with that unhappy secret which Neal had once so darkly hinted
at?
Neal stood within the shade of the house looking after Mr. Oswald
Cray, or rather after the young lady leaning on his arm. Neal was very
curious as to this young lady, for young she looked in Neal's
eyes. While apparently his whole attention was absorbed by his
conversation with Mr. Oswald Cray, he had been studying the face
turned to him; a fair and sensible face, as Mr. Neal could read,
though less good-looking than Miss Sara Davenal's. What with Neal's
legitimate observation and his illegitimate ferreting habits, he had
contrived to arrive at a very ingenious conjecture of the tacit
relations which had existed between Mr. Oswald Cray and Dr. Davenal's
daughter; and Neal had of late been entertaining a rather shrew guess
that Mr. Oswald Cray intended those relations to cease. He judged by
the fact that the gentleman had never once, since Lady Oswald's
funeral, been inside the doctor's doors. A formal call and a left
card during one of his visits to Hallingham, had comprised all the
notice taken. Tolerably safe appearances these, from which Neal drew
his conclusions; and it perhaps may be pardoned one of Neal's
conclusion-drawing mind, that he asked himself whether this young
lady had superseded Miss Sara.
"It looks uncommonly like it," he repeated to himself, as his gaze
followed them in the distance. "I should like to be certain, and to
know who she is. She looks like a lady--and _he'd_ not take up with
anybody that was not one. Suppose I just see where they go? I have
nothing particular on my hands this evening."
Gingerly treading the streets, as one who knows he is bent upon some
surreptitious expedition is apt to tread them, Neal stepped along,
keeping Mr. Oswald Cray and his companion sufficiently in view not to
lose them. After a sufficiently long walk, they entered a house on the
confines of Chelsea, bordering upon Brompton; the middle one of a row
of moderate-sized houses, with small gardens before the doors. Neal
saw Mr. Oswald Cray knock; and a young servant-maid admitted them.
But this left Neal as wise as before. He could see the house, could
read the name of the Terrace, "Bangalore Terrace," in large black
letters at either end; but this did not tell the name of the lady,
or who she was; and Bangalore Terrace, though sufficiently
respectable-looking, was certainly not the class of terrace to which
it might be expected Mr. Oswald Cray would go for a wife.
Neal might have remained in his ignorance until now but for a
fortunate accident. He was taking a last look at the house ere he
turned away, at the light which shone behind the blinds of the
first-floor windows, when the same servant who had opened the door
came running out, her bonnet just perched on her head, its strings
flying, and a jug and latch-key in her hand. As she passed Neal, the
unsecured bonnet flew off, and Neal gallantly picked it up.
"I'm sure I'm much obliged to you, sir," she said, civilly. "Nasty
tilting things these new-fangled bonnets be! One doesn't know whether
to fix 'em atop of the back hair or under it."
"Can you tell me where a Miss-- Miss---- It is very unfortunate,"
broke off Neal in a tone of vexation. "I am in search of a young lady
on a little matter of business, and I have forgotten her number. I
think she lives at number five, but I am not sure."
"Number five's our house," said the girl, falling readily into the
trap. "There ain't no young lady living there. There's three young
ladies at number six, sir; perhaps its one o' them."
"No young lady living at number five!" repeated Neal
"No, there isn't. There's only my missis, and me, and two sons, and
the gentleman what's ill on the first-floor. But perhaps you mean the
sick gentleman's sister?" she added, the thought striking her. "She
came to our house today, after a long journey all the way from
Scotland, and she's going to stop with him."
Neal hardly thought this could apply. The young lady did not look as
though she had just come off a long journey. "I don't know," said he.
"What is her name!"
"Her name's the same as her brother's--Allister. If you'd been here
two minutes sooner, sir, you might have seen her, for she's just come
in with Mr. Oswald Cray. He's a gentleman who comes to see Mr.
Allister."
"Allister!" The name was conclusive without the other testimony. Neal
had once heard Mr. Oswald Cray describe his friend Allister's symptoms
to Dr. Davenal. This fair girl with the pleasant face was Miss
Allister, then!
"Ah, it's not the same," said he cautiously. "I must come down by
daylight and look out. Goodnight, young woman; I am sorry to have
detained you," he said as he walked away.
"Miss Allister!" repeated Neal to himself. "And so the brother's not
dead yet I remember Mr. Oswald Cray saying he could not live a week,
and that's three months ago."
Frank Allister was sitting between the fire and the table, reading by
the light of the lamp, when they entered. He was slight and short,
with a fair skin like his sister's, and a long thin neck. The room was
very small, as the drawing-rooms (as they are called) in these
unpretending suburban houses mostly are. What with the smallness of
the room and the heavy closeness of the Brompton air, Jane Allister
had felt stifled ever since she arrived that day. Frank, without
rising from his seat, turned round and held his thin white fingers
towards Oswald Cray, who grasped them.
"Jane, where have you been? I fancied you went out for but a few
minutes' walk."
"I thought I would go as far as Mr. Oswald Cray's, Frank, and thank
him for his attention to you," was her answer. "He has been so kind as
to walk back with me."
"But how did you find your way?" cried Frank, wonderingly.
"I inquired. But I suppose I was stupid at understanding, for I went
out of my way. What a busy place London is! I should get bewildered if
I lived in it long."
Oswald Cray laughed. "It would be just the contrary, Miss Allister.
The longer you lived in it the less bewildered you would be."
"Ah, yes," she answered; "use reconciles us to most things."
She had laid her bonnet and black shawl on a chair, and was going
noiselessly from one part of the room to another, putting in order
things that Frank had disturbed since her departure. He had wanted a
particular book, and to get it had displaced two whole shelves of the
cheffonier. The coal-box stood in the middle of the room, and a fancy
china inkstand, the centre ornament of the cheffonier, lay on a chair.
But the room, in its present general neatness and order, looked
different from anything Oswald had ever seen it. Sometimes there had
not been, as the saying runs, a place to sit upon. Frank ill, perhaps
careless, had paid little heed to how his room went, and his landlady
and his landlady's young maid had not much bestirred themselves in the
matter. When Jane arrived she had taken in all the discomfort at the
first glance, and did not sit down until it was remedied. Frank's
bedchamber was at the back, opening from it, and there was a small
room--a closet, in fact--at the bend of the stairs, which was to be
Jane's.
Oswald followed her with his eyes, as she moved about in her simple
usefulness. Perhaps he wished that he had such a sister to make his
home a prettier place than it was made by Mrs. Benn. She was very
small in figure, and the folds of her soft black dress scarcely added
to its fulness. Her light hair was carried rather low on the cheeks,
and twisted into a coil on her neck behind. Without her outdoor things
she looked, if anything, younger than she did in them.
"And so you went to Mr. Oswald Cray's, inquiring your way!" cried
Frank. "I say, young lady, that's not the fashion of doing things in
London."
"May be not," answered Jane. "I daresay I and London shall not agree
in our notions of fashion. Have you taken your milk, Frank!"
"I should think so. It was smoked again."
"Smoked!" cried Jane, turning round and looking at him.
"It generally is smoked," continued Frank. "I think their saucepans
downstairs must be constructed on the plan of letting the smoke in."
Jane said no more. She inwardly resolved that neither Frank's milk nor
anything else that he took should be smoked in future.
"Why don't you sit down, Oswald. Are you afraid of Jane?"
"Not very much," Oswald answered, looking round at her with a smile.
"The fact is, Frank, I have some work to do at home tonight, and must
get back."
"Plans to go over?"
"That and other things."
"I shall soon be well enough to come out again and go to work,"
resumed Frank Allister; and his confident tone proved how firm was his
belief in his own words. "Will Bracknell and Street take me on again?"
"I think you will soon be out if you go on improving at this rate,"
answered Oswald, ignoring the last portion of Frank's words. "You look
better this evening than you have looked yet."
"Oh, I am all right. But of course I look better, now Jane's here.
Nearly the first thing she did was to part and brush my hair, and make
me put on a clean collar. Only fancy her coming upon me today without
warning! When the girl came up to say there was a lady at the door in
a cab for Mr. Allister, I thought of anybody rather than Jane."
Oswald Cray wished them goodnight, and walked leisurely home. He
really had some work to do, but he could have remained longer with
them, only that he thought they might prefer to be alone on this the
first evening of the sister's arrival. They had been apart for so many
years.
Oswald let himself in with his latch-key. It must be supposed that
Mrs. Benn heard him; for she came running up the kitchen stairs, and
held put something to him under the light of the hall lamp. It
appeared to be a piece of narrow black ribbon, about a third of a yard
in length.
"When I had got the tea-tray down in the kitchen, sir, I found this
a-hanging to it. I suppose the young lady that was with you upstairs
left it here."
There was little doubt that Jane had left it. A wrist-ribbon probably,
inadvertently untied in pulling off her glove. Oswald looked at the
woman--at her crusty face, where the pert curiosity induced by the
visit was not yet subdued. A curiosity he judged it well to satisfy.
"Did you know who that lady was, Mrs. Benn?"
"No, sir."
"It was poor Mr. Allister's sister. She has come all the way from
Scotland to nurse him." The crustiness disappeared; the face lighted
up with a better feeling. Mr. Allister had been a favourite of Mrs.
Benn's, and if she could be sorry for anybody's illness, she was sorry
for his.
"Mr. Allister's sister! If I had but known it, sir! What a
pleasant-speaking young lady she is." Following his wife up the
kitchen stairs, had come Benn. He waited until this colloquy was over,
and then began to speak on his own account.
"A gentleman is waiting for you in your sitting-room, sir."
"Who is it?" asked Oswald.
"I think he's a stranger, sir. I don't remember to have seen him
before."
Oswald proceeded upstairs. Standing at the side of the room, facing
the door as he opened it, his gloves on and his hat in his hand, was
Neal. And so much like a gentleman did he really look that Mr. Joseph
Benn's mistake was a perfectly natural one.
"I have taken the liberty of intruding upon you, sir, and of asking to
wait until you returned, to inquire whether I can convey anything for
you to Hallingham. You had hardly left me, sir, in the street, when I
remembered how very remiss it was in me not to ask you. Unless I have
a letter from the doctor tomorrow morning, according me a day or two's
more grace, which I have written for, I shall leave tomorrow evening.
If I can do anything there for you, sir, or be of use to you in
anyway, you may command me."
"Thank you, Neal; there's nothing I want done. I expect to go down
myself next week. Come to the fire and warm yourself this cold night.
Sit down."
Neal came forward nearer the fire; but he did not avail himself of the
invitation to sit. Oswald inquired if he would like some refreshment,
but he declined.
"Have they heard from Captain Davenal yet, do you know?" Oswald asked.
"I think not, sir. I believe they were expecting letters from Malta
when I left."
"I wish he could have gone down for a short while. I am sure the
doctor felt it."
"There's no doubt he did, sir, very much," returned Neal, with warm
sympathy in his low, respectful tone. "I grieve to say, sir, that the
doctor appears to be very much changed. He is more like one suffering
from some inward painful illness than anything else."
"Of body or of mind?" involuntarily asked Oswald, speaking on the
moment's impulse. And however he may have regretted the question, he
could not recall it.
"I should say of mind, sir. Since the night of--of Lady Oswald's
death, he has been a changed man."
Mr. Oswald Cray made no answer whatever to the allusion; he evidently
declined to enter upon that unsatisfactory topic. Neal resumed.
"There are going to be changes in our house, sir; it is to be
conducted with more regard to economy. Watton is to leave, and I am
not sure but I am also. Miss Davenal does not wish any changes to be
made, but the doctor says it is necessary."
"On the score of economy?"
"Yes, sir, on the score of economy. I heard him talking of it to Miss
Sara; he said if the present rate of expense was to go on, together
with the heavy sum that must now go from him yearly as hush-money, he
should not keep his head above water. Miss Davenal, who does not
understand why any retrenchment should be made, opposes it entirely."
Every fibre in Oswald Cray's heart resented the words--he could not
bear that such should be spoken out boldly to him, no matter what
their truth might be. Neal's innocent eyes noticed the sudden flush
upon his face.
"I think you must be mistaken, Neal. Hush-money! Dr. Davenal would
scarcely use the term to his daughter."
"Not that precise term, perhaps, sir, but certainly something
equivalent to it. There is a rumour in the town, sir, that he intends
to resign to the relatives the legacy left to him by my lady, or part
of it."
"Indeed?"
"People have talked a great deal, I fancy, sir, and it has reached the
doctor's ears. Perhaps, sir, if I may venture to say it to you, he may
be _afraid_ to keep it. The injustice of the bequest might lead to
some investigation which--which would be inconvenient to Dr. Davenal."
"Neal, I'd rather not enter upon these topics," said Oswald, in a
clear, resolute tone. "Things which appear dubious to us may be
explainable by Dr. Davenal. At any rate, it is neither your business
nor mine."
And by those firm words Neal knew that Mr. Oswald Cray had, so to say,
washed his hands of the affair, and did not mean to take it up in
anyway. Neal's hopes had tended to the contrary, and it was a little
checkmate.
"I thought I would presume to ask you, sir, whether you might not be
soon requiring a personal attendant," he resumed, sliding easily out
of his disappointment, and giving no token of it, "Should I be leaving
the doctor, it would afford me greater pleasure to serve you, sir,
than any one else, now my late lady's gone."
Oswald laughed--he could not help it. "A valet for me, Neal! No, that
would never do under present circumstances. You will be at no fault
for a good place, rely upon it, should you leave Dr. Davenal. The good
places will be only too glad to contend for you."
Neal did not dispute the assertion. What his precise motive might have
been for wishing to serve Mr. Oswald Cray, when he could no doubt
dispose of himself so much more advantageously, was best known to
himself. He made his adieu in his usual quiet and respectful fashion,
and took his departure, leaving Oswald Cray to the reminiscences of
the interview. Oswald sat over the fire as oblivious of the work he
had to do as he had been of the dinner-things earlier in the evening.
Will it be believed that the hint dropped by Neal--that Dr. Davenal
might be giving up the money because he dared not risk the danger of
any investigation--was grating unpleasantly on the brain of Oswald?
To do Neal justice so far, he himself fully believed that such was the
motive of Dr. Davenal, and he had spoken for once with an earnest
truthfulness that is never without its weight.
It was unfortunate that this aspect of the affair should have been the
first given to Oswald Cray. Had he simply heard that Dr. Davenal was
declining the bequest in his generous consideration for the
Stephensons, it might perhaps have shaken his doubts of that other
dark story, since the only motive the doctor could possibly have had
throughout (as Oswald's mind had argued), was the acquirement of the
money. But if he was declining the money through fear, it only served
to make these doubts the greater. It was most unfortunate, I say, that
this aspect of the affair should have been imparted to him; for we all
know how little, how very little, will serve to strengthen suspicions
once aroused.
He sat on with his unhappy thoughts far into the night, the image of
Sara Davenal ever before him. Never had his love for her been more
ardently tender, never had the cruelty of their obligatory separation
been so keenly present to his soul.