"It was a great comfort to be alone with him," proceeded my mother; "I
got really to know my boy at last. Yes, his wife is a lucky woman. I
trust she will prove worthy of him." This time I was spared making any
further remarks, for my father's latch-key was heard in the front-door.
The next moment he and George entered the little drawing-room together.
"Bitterly cold night," said my father, walking up to the fire, and
monopolising the whole of it. "A sharp frost has set in already. Ha!
is that you, Rosamund? Home again? How do you do? My dear," turning
to his wife, "did you register the thermometer as I told you to do this
afternoon?"
"Yes, George. There were five degrees of frost then."
"Ha! there'll be fifteen by nine o'clock to-night. Why do you women
keep such miserable fires? This thimbleful is enough to freeze any
one."
My father turned, and seizing the coal-scuttle, dashed a quantity of
loose coal into the grate. It raised a dust, and almost extinguished
the fire, but we none of us expostulated, for my father was
unquestionably master in his own house.
George meanwhile flung himself into a deep easy-chair, crossed one muddy
boot over the other, and seizing my mother's favourite tabby cat, began
to stroke it the wrong way, and otherwise to worry it. He laughed once
or twice, when pussy resisted his endearments. He suddenly flung her on
the ground almost roughly.
"Do turn that ugly thing out of the room, Rosamund," he said.
I did not stir. I thought the time had come when I would cease to allow
George to bully me.
"By the way," said my father suddenly, in his harsh voice, "what's this
I hear, that Chillingfleet has given Jack the sack? You gave me the
information, didn't you, George?"
"Yes, sir, and it's correct," replied George. "I suppose Jack was
playing the fool in some way, and Chillingfleet took advantage of his
illness to get rid of him."
"Monstrous, I call it," interrupted my father; "an unprecedented sort of
thing to do. I shall call on Chillingfleet to-morrow morning, and sift
this matter to the very bottom."
My mother looked up in alarm when my father spoke in this tone.
"I understand," she said in her gentle voice, "that Jack has had a
particularly kind letter from Mr Chillingfleet. He did not show it to
me, but he told me of it."
"Then you knew of this?" said my father, angrily.
"Yes, George, Jack told me that he was going about a fortnight ago."
"H'm--ha! The young cub doesn't choose to confide in me. Did he give
you any reason for his dismissal?"
"No, I did not think any necessary. Jack has been ill for weeks, and
unable to attend to his work. Mr Chillingfleet had naturally to get
some one to take his place."
"Naturally, indeed! That's all you women know!"
My father began to pace the floor in his indignation.
"Much chance a poor young clerk would have, if just because he was
unlucky enough to take fever, he was dismissed from his post. But, of
course, people who know nothing jump to conclusions. Now if I had been
consulted at the time, as I ought to have been, I might have talked
Chillingfleet round, and shown him the enormity of his own proceeding."
"I don't think your talking would have had the least effect," suddenly
interrupted George. "If there is a hard old flint in this world, its
Chillingfleet. Every one knows his character." My father frowned at
George's presuming to doubt his powers of eloquence. After a pause, he
said, emphatically:
"Your mother has acted in a very foolish way, keeping this affair to
herself; but even now it is not too late, and notwithstanding your
opinion, George, for which I am much obliged, I shall tackle
Chillingfleet in the morning."
With these last words my father left the room, banging the door noisily
after him. My mother looked disturbed, George cross. How little they
knew what revelations might reach them, what agony and distress might be
theirs through my father's untimely interference! I felt that I must
prevent his having an interview with Mr Chillingfleet at any cost.
It was easier, however, to make this resolve than to act upon it.
"Rose, you don't look at all well," said my father, as we sat over our
evening meal. "You have knocked yourself up nursing that common place
young woman. I might have told you that would be the case. If you go
on in this erratic fashion you will be old before your time."
Even this rather gruff notice from my father was so unusual that I quite
blushed with pleasure.
"I will not let him be humiliated," I said to myself. "After all he is
my father. Hard he is--sometimes cruel--but always, always the very
soul of honour. I must--I will save him from what would bring his grey
hairs with sorrow to the grave."
My eyes travelled slowly from my father's face to George's.
George was also hard. George could also be cruel, but he at least was
young. George might share my burden. If George knew, it would be his
interest to keep the thing quiet, and I felt sure that where I was
powerless to keep my father from turning even a hair's-breadth from his
own way, George might have many means of influencing him.
After dinner I came up to where George was idly reading the newspaper.
"Can I speak to you before you go to bed?" I said, in a low voice.
"What about?" he asked, crossly.
"I can't tell you in this room. Will you come to my bedroom before you
go to sleep?"
"Very well," he answered, still very gruffly.
"Now what is it?" he asked, when he came to my room between ten and
eleven that night. "What girl's confidence am I to be worried, with?"
"No girl's confidence, as you are pleased to call it, George. Now
listen. Our father must not see Mr Chillingfleet in the morning. He
_must_ not--he _shall_ not. You, George, must prevent it."
"I must prevent it! Is that what you have kept me out of my bed to say?
Upon my word, Rose, you are unreasonable. Pray tell me how I am to
keep my father from doing what he wishes."
"Oh! George, you are very clever, and you can find a way when I--I
can't, although I'd give all the world to. George, George! he must not
see Mr Chillingfleet, and this is the reason."
Then I told my story. I told it quite calmly and without any outward
show of shame. I found as I talked that I had grown accustomed to this
tragedy, that the first edge of its agony was blunted to me.
I was not prepared, however, for the effect it had on my brother. As my
story proceeded I saw all the colour leave George's large,
healthily-tinted face; drops of perspiration stood on his forehead. He
took out his handkerchief and wiped the moisture from his lips and brow.
When I ceased speaking he sank down on the nearest chair. I had
expected a perfect storm of angry and bitter words. George did not
utter one.
"Well?" I could not help saying at last.
"Well," he answered, "there's an end of everything, that's all. I meant
to ask an honest girl with a nice little bit of money to be my wife. I
thought I'd ask her next Sunday. I love her, too, 'tisn't on account of
the money; that's at an end. She shan't ever say she married the
brother of a thief!"
"Oh! George, don't be too hard on him. He was sorely tempted, and he
is so young."
"Am I hard on him, Rose? Am I saying anything?"
"George, dear brother, I wish I could help you."
"You can't; I'm off to bed now."
"George, you will keep this from my father?"
"Rather!"
"You will manage that he shall not see Mr Chillingfleet?"
"I will manage that he never hears the story you have told me to-night.
Good-night, Rose."
"Kiss me, George. Oh! George, I'm bitterly sorry for you."
I ran after him and flung my arms round his neck, and gave him what we
used in the old childish days to call a bear's hug.
When I pressed my lips to his cheek I saw tears in his eyes.