SIR GILBERT’S STRANGE EXPERIENCE
It was considerably past five o’clock before our lovers found
themselves back at the cottage, where Lady Pell and Mrs. Tew were
awaiting their arrival in order to have tea brought in. When it was
over Lady Pell drew Ethel aside.
“Well, my dear, and so he has summoned up courage to speak it last,”
she said. “I have seen what was coming for a long time, but I certainly
thought him somewhat dilatory in bringing matters to a climax. However,
all’s well that ends well. I congratulate you most heartily. I approve
your choice, and so I am sure, will Sir Gilbert when I tell him. Don’t
say anything now. You and I will have a long talk together in the
morning.”
Then while the horses were being brought round, she contrived to have a
few words with Everard.
“So you have taken an old woman’s advice, I find. Of one thing I am
quite sure, that you will never have cause to repent having done so.
You are a fortunate fellow. You have secured a treasure. Indeed, I’m
far from sure that she’s not a long way too good for you.”
“There I quite agree with you, Lady Pell. Where, indeed, should we find
a man worthy of her? But is not that a very good reason why Miss
Thursby should have condescended to accept me? We should always try to
improve our fellow-creatures where improvement is needed. And that in
my case she will find ample scope for her efforts, no one knows better
than myself.”
He spoke gravely enough, but there was a lurking smile in his eyes
which Lady Pell did not fail to note.
“You men have quite a wonderful gift for preaching one doctrine before
marriage and its exact opposite after. _Then_ you discover that it is
yourselves who are perfection and your poor wives who are deficient in
this, that or the other quality which you never seemed to take account
of before. But it has always been so, and I suppose it always will be.”
She was on the point of turning away.
“One moment, Lady Pell,” said Everard. “I have not yet told you how
deeply grateful I am for the advice you gave me this morning. To that,
in a great measure, I owe my present happiness. It gave me just the
impulse I needed; it was the spur to urge me forward on the road I
ought to go. My sincerest thanks will be yours to the last day of my
life.”
He was earnest enough now, there could be no mistake on that score.
“Wait till you have been floundering in the quicksands of matrimony for
half-a-dozen years and then maybe you will tell a different tale,”
laughed Lady Pell.
Evening had closed in by the time our party reached the Chase. It was
Trant in person, and not one of the footmen, who opened the door for
them. He was evidently perturbed; so much so, in fact, that the knot of
his white tie had worked itself round under his left ear without his
being aware of it. Lady Pell saw at a glance that something was amiss.
“What is it, Trant,” she asked quickly. “Sir Gilbert——?” Something rose
in her throat, but her eyes asked the question her lips refused to
finish.
“Sir Gilbert, my lady, is not very well; nothing to be frightened at,
if I may take the liberty of saying so,” he made haste to add. “If your
ladyship will allow me,” he went on in a lower voice, “I should like to
tell you what I know of the affair before you see Sir Gilbert.”
Lady Pell at once led the way to the anteroom. The butler opened the
door, bowed her in and followed.
“All morning Sir Gilbert was shut up in his study as usual,” began
Trant. “At luncheon his appetite was very poor, but he seemed tolerably
cheerful. At six o’clock, after I had taken him a glass of Madeira and
a biscuit, he went into the hall, put on his soft hat, lighted a cigar
and went for a stroll on the terrace, and about half-an-hour later,
happening to look through the dining-room window, I saw him going
slowly down the steps towards the lower grounds. By this the evening
was getting quite dusky. It might have been a quarter of an hour, or
twenty minutes later, when I heard the library bell rung sharply. I
hurried in and found Sir Gilbert lying back in his easy-chair, looking
quite dazed like—in fact, for half a minute or more he stared at me as
if he didn’t know who I was. ‘You rang, sir,’ says I. ‘Eh?’ says he.
‘Did I ring, Trant? I don’t remember ringing. And I don’t remember how
I got here. How did I get here, Trant?’ shutting his eyes and pressing
his hand to his forehead as if trying to bring back something he had
forgotten. ‘Don’t know at all, sir,’ says I. ‘The bell rang and I
answered it.’ ‘It’s very strange, and I can’t make it out at all,’ says
he. ‘Be good enough to shut that window, and then bring me a little
brandy in a liqueur glass; and, Trant, let me know when the ladies get
back from their excursion.’”
Lady Pell had listened with growing impatience to the butler’s somewhat
long-winded narrative. “Thank you, Trant; I am much obliged to you for
telling me this,” she said. “You need not trouble to inform Sir Gilbert
that I have returned. I will go to him at once. By-the-way, did you
hint anything to Sir Gilbert about sending for a doctor?”
“It would have been as much as my place is worth,” replied the butler
with a solemn shake of the head. “And I shall be much obliged by your
ladyship not saying anything about my having spoken to you.”
A fire had been lighted in the library, for the autumn evenings were
chilly, and Lady Pell found Sir Gilbert seated by it and looking much
as usual. There was a small table, with a lamp on it, near his elbow,
and the _Times_ newspaper was spread open on his knees.
“So you have got back safe and sound,” he said in his most cheerful
tones as she went forward. “Well, you have had a charming day and I
hope you have enjoyed yourselves.”
“Oh, most thoroughly. Didn’t you find the house a little lonely without
us?”
“Indeed I did—both lonely and dull. Dinner, I may tell you, is ordered
for an hour later than usual; I felt sure you would come back famished
after your long drive.”
“And so we have; but you are not yet dressed.”
“No—the fact is, I must ask you to excuse me at table to-day, I am
slightly out of sorts and don’t feel in the mood for company. Perhaps,
later on, I may be inclined for a little music. Meanwhile, Trant will
not fail to look after me. And now I won’t detain you a moment longer.”
“Well, I shall come and look you up again as soon as dinner is over.”
“Do so. By that time I may possibly have something to tell you.”
Lady Pell scarcely waited for dinner to come to an end before she was
back in the library. At the door she met Trant bringing out a tray
containing the remains of Sir Gilbert’s apology for a dinner. “Master
seems better, much better, ma’am,” he whispered as he passed her. Then
she entered, seated herself comfortably near the fire, settled her
glasses on her nose, deposited her ball of worsted on the hearthrug at
her feet, and gave a preliminary click with her needles.
The Baronet sat gazing into the fire for a little space; then he
cleared his voice and said: “Louisa, I have been the subject of a very
strange experience to-day.”
“Indeed, cousin?” responded her ladyship, in just that tone of
sympathetic surprise which indicated that she was fully in touch with
him. “But it is not the first strange experience you have had of late.”
“No indeed,” with a sigh. “But I will tell you all about it. Perhaps
you may be able to suggest an explanation where I confess that at
present I see none. Feeling somewhat lonely as the day wore on—so used
have I become of late to seeing faces round me—and it being still too
early to have the lamps lighted, I took a cigar, and having put on my
hat and coat, went out for a stroll in the grounds. At first I confined
myself to the terrace, but finding the air there rather chilly, after a
time I went down the steps and began to pace the sheltered paths of the
shrubbery on the lower level. I had finished my cigar—I am a very slow
smoker—and in the shrubbery it had grown almost dark before I turned to
go indoors. I was crossing that piece of sward on my way to the terrace
steps, when I was seized with a sudden giddiness. Everything seemed to
go round with me. Stumbling forward a step or two with outstretched
hands, my knees gave way under me and I sank, rather than fell, forward
on the turf and lost consciousness. When I came in some measure to
myself, which must have been after a very few moments, I had a sense of
being borne swiftly along in a pair of strong arms. Then, I could tell
by the change of atmosphere that I was indoors, and a moment later I
felt myself being laid gently down, while the arms that had carried me
were withdrawn. And then—perhaps you will scarcely credit it—I seemed
to feel a kiss pressed on my forehead—yes, on mine, the forehead of an
old man of seventy-four! On the instant I opened my eyes, and there,
clearly outlined by the flame of the burning logs on the hearth, I saw
bending over me—whom or what think you?”
Thus directly appealed to, Lady Pell simply arched her eyebrows and
shook her head as one wholly at a loss for an answer. In the interest
excited by her kinsman’s narrative her hands, still holding her
needles, lay idle on her lap.
“A robed and cowled figure,” returned Sir Gilbert, “of whom I could
discern little save its long grizzled beard.”
“The Grey Monk!” ejaculated her ladyship in a whisper, touched for once
with unaccustomed awe.
Sir Gilbert bowed his head in grave assent.