MISUNDERSTANDINGS
THE rencontre between Captain Torrance and Miss Mountford had been well
planned, thanks to the information given by the groom.
It took Kathleen by surprise, startled her, indeed, and her sensitive
face flushed and paled in turns, as Captain Jack bared his handsome
head with one hand, then used the other in adjusting the stile for her
to pass through. He did not speak, but would have allowed the girl
to pass with only a low bow, had not Kathleen addressed him. He was
looking so sad and respectful, that his face said more than words could
have done.
"Captain Torrance, I have read your letter," said Kathleen. "I know you
meant only kindness in what you did a month ago, and I was grateful for
it; please forget everything else in connection with it."
"Is it possible that you forgive me, Miss Mountford? I shall not easily
forgive myself," replied the captain, with a radiant face.
"To need forgiveness one must have done an intentional wrong, and I am
sure that was as far from your thoughts as it was from mine to pain you
by refusing what you sent."
As Kathleen said this she raised a smiling face, and extended her hand.
Captain Jack took it and held it gently for an instant, then released
it. He would have liked to lift it to his lips, but he dared not,
though his heart was beating rapidly with a sense of coming triumph.
The tell-tale expression on the face of that innocent girl appealed to
the little of good that was left in his nature. He was now certain that
he was not indifferent to Kathleen, and what there was of conscience in
the man appealed to him on her behalf. It seemed to say, "What right
have you to mar another fair life, by seeking to link it with your
sin-soiled, dishonourable career? Look at your past. Think of the young
wife whose friends thanked God for the early death that saved her from
prolonged sorrow. What can your very love be but injurious to such as
Kathleen Mountford? Spare her a future of misery, a fearful awakening
from a dream of hope and happiness; for the sake of the one who was the
mother of your boy, and whom, after your selfish fashion, you loved."
But the voice of conscience was silenced by louder pleadings going
on at the same time within the man's mind. His circumstances were
desperate. He had really been in London to stave off law proceedings
which would have revealed his hopeless position. He had only succeeded
by entering into an agreement whereby the Monk's How estate, his home,
and its contents would pass out of his possession fifteen months
hence, and he would be penniless and homeless, unless he could in the
meanwhile retrieve his fortunes by marriage.
Captain Torrance had made more than one attempt to do this already,
but parents and guardians had proved too watchful as regarded those
who combined youth with wealth, and his efforts had proved futile. In
Kathleen, everything that he could desire was united. Her unencumbered
property would be an ample provision for life, Hollingsby Hall, a good
house for a ruined man to hang up his hat in. Kathleen's carefully
accumulated thousands, which popular rumour numbered at fifty, would
redeem Monk's How, if he chose to spend them on it. Besides, what
possibilities of future pleasures, which need not be particularized,
opened before him, the one condition for securing these being marriage
with a girl, young, beautiful, and lovable!
As to Monk's How! Captain Jack had always been sorry to think that it
would not go down to Ralph as it had come from his father to himself,
but it might yet be saved. Miss Mountford would be her own mistress in
a year, or perhaps rather less now, and he had secured an extra three
months' breathing-time, in case of difficulties.
"Matheson will take care that Hollingsby is settled on Kathleen, and
he would be an idiot indeed if he did not. However, I will not be too
hard-hearted. It will be just as much to my advantage as to hers, for
I cannot trust myself to take care of money. If I get the ready cash
under my control, I may well be contented, and the value of everything
will be trebled by the pleasure of cutting out that puritanical fellow.
Anybody can guess that he would like to shut out all suitors from
Hollingsby Hall."
Thought is rapid, and these arguments, pro and con, none of them new
to the mind of Captain Jack, rushed through it during that brief pause
with Kathleen at the turnstile. Needless to say which side conquered.
But for the meeting with Captain Torrance, Kathleen would have taken
the field-path. She would not now choose this more private road, in
case he should turn and walk by her side. People might misjudge her,
and imagine that the meeting was not an accidental one, if they were by
chance seen together on the less frequented way. So she turned towards
the high-road and, as she half feared, half hoped, Captain Torrance
took the same.
"I was going this way back," he said, "and now that through your
goodness I am forgiven, I trust you will add to it by allowing me to
walk with you to the Hall."
Kathleen gave a smiling assent, and the two walked on, talking chiefly
about Ralph, and his father's anxiety on his account during his stay in
London. The captain waxed pathetic as he bewailed the boy's motherless
condition and his own comparative helplessness. He sighed as he added—
"If only one, as good, tender, and fair as my poor Adela, would take
her place and be a mother to Ralph, I should care little for myself;
but I ought not to speak in this way. Even the thought of Ralph must
not make me forget—"
Kathleen's look of sympathy was carrying Captain Jack beyond himself.
He was beginning to venture on ground which he had hardly dared to
believe he should be able to approach for months to come, for he was
far too politic to risk a refusal by haste or rashness.
How far he might have gone, tempted by Kathleen's readiness to talk
of Ralph, and her evident sympathy with the father's anxiety, cannot
be told. At this most opportune moment Aylmer Matheson came in sight,
as he turned a corner only a short distance in front of the pair. He
had been at the Hall, and was going homeward, having declined Mrs.
Ellicott's invitation to luncheon.
Captain Torrance was inwardly delighted at the meeting, and not in the
least sorry that his conversation with Kathleen was interrupted at this
point. He was becoming afraid that he had gone too far already, and
that his impetuosity might have the effect of injuring his cause. Now
he should stop, leaving Kathleen plenty to think about, and perhaps
wishing the sentence had been completed before Aylmer appeared in
sight. She could not doubt his earnestness, for he meant every word he
had said.
Captain Jack changed the subject abruptly, and said—
"Some day I shall hope to talk about my boy again, with one who can
sympathize with a motherless child, and with a father who longs to care
for him in the best way. But here comes your lawful guardian, Miss
Mountford; perhaps I had better retreat and resign you to his care."
There was just a suspicion of mockery in Captain Jack's tone, and his
smile was less pleasant to look upon than it had been before Aylmer
came in sight.
Tone and look had the effect of rousing Kathleen to show her
independence, and she answered—
"Indeed no, Captain Torrance. You were good enough to say you would
walk with me to the Hall, and your escort will be more than sufficient,
for I expected that my walk would be solitary. Mr. Matheson is my
guardian and my good, true friend, not my jailer."
The captain laughed heartily at this speech, and said some
complimentary words at the moment of Aylmer's approach, with the result
that Kathleen's face was full of amusement, and her heightened colour
could not fail to be noticed by her guardian.
Aylmer was intensely surprised at seeing Captain Torrance in Kathleen's
company, and at the apparently good understanding subsisting between
them.
Mr. Matheson did not stop. He merely bowed to Kathleen, just
acknowledged the captain's salute, and then went on his way, greatly
disturbed by what he had seen. Painfully self-conscious in everything
that concerned his ward, Aylmer tormented himself with conjectures
as to the means by which her meeting with Captain Torrance had been
brought about. Until the pair came in sight, he had no idea that the
latter had returned to Monk's How.
He had heard, without repeating them, rumours of his neighbour's
ever-growing money difficulties, and perhaps at the bottom of his heart
hoped that these might eventually remove him from the neighbourhood.
Now, Aylmer walked homeward, unable to see, hear, or think of anything
but the half-mocking, half-triumphant look on Captain Torrance's face,
the mirthful one on Kathleen's, the sound of the ringing laugh, and the
impression that these were caused by some jest of which he was himself
the subject. He had been so happy for a month past, even hopeful for
Kathleen and for himself. Now he was miserable, full of fears, terribly
conscious of his own responsibility, and at the same time of the
strength, resources, and unscrupulous character of the man with whom he
would have to deal, in protecting his ward against herself.
Arrived at home, he sent away his luncheon almost untasted, and his
thoughts became prayers for help and guidance to do the right, and to
forget self in doing it for Kathleen's sake.
Captain Jack left Miss Mountford at the entrance-gates, and she walked
through the grounds alone. He would have accompanied her to the Hall
door; but, in spite of that touch of the old spirit which had induced
her to insist on his continued escort thus far, Kathleen shrank
from braving the look of dismay which would become visible on Mrs.
Ellicott's face, if she saw her niece thus accompanied. So she paused
at the gates, and, holding out her hand, said—
"Good-bye, Captain Torrance. I shall hope to hear only good news of
Ralph."
"Many thanks for your kindness. I shall be only too glad to be the
bearer of such news."
Thus they parted, the captain in the highest spirits, Kathleen in a
flutter of excitement, not altogether of a pleasurable character. The
moment she found herself alone she felt a certain amount of compunction
for what she had done, and she realized that the having one's own way
is not always the only thing to be desired.
Aylmer had met her. Well! If he had not, he would soon have heard that
she had been seen walking with Captain Torrance, for there were plenty
of lookers-on from doors and windows, and in the passers-by in the
village street.
Probably, Aylmer had heard her companion's laugh, and seen that she
shared in the amusement caused by some remark of his. She would be
honestly sorry if he imagined that she was laughing at him. He could
not know that she had spoken of him as her "good, true friend" the
moment before.
"And Aylmer is good," said Kathleen to herself. "He has a right to
advise me, indeed, to control me, whilst I am under age, though I am
sure he has a thankless office with such a wilful ward. How grave his
face was as he passed us!"
"Aunty will be sadly put out, too, for Captain Torrance is her bête
noir. She shall not hear of my escapade from any one else, for after
lunch is over I will tell her just how the thing came about, and show
her the letter. It will touch her tender heart, I know, as it touched
mine."
Full of good resolutions, Kathleen entered the house, and ran lightly
upstairs to take off her walking trim. Halfway up she met with her
cousin.
"Oh, Ger," she said, "I am glad to see you up. I was afraid you would
feel it necessary to stay in bed all day. Are you better?"
"Yes, thanks, Kitty. Have you enjoyed your walk?"
"Very much, and I am as hungry, as a bear I was going to say; but I
suppose even bears are not always in a ravenous condition."
"Probably not. Did you see Aylmer whilst you were out?"
Geraldine was looking at her cousin, and could not help wondering at
the vivid colour which mounted to her very forehead at this question.
"Yes," replied Kathleen. "I saw him, but not to speak to. He passed me
when some one else was talking to me."
"Then it was not he who came back with you to the gate a few minutes
ago?"
Kathleen turned sharply round, and asked in an angry tone, "Pray, were
you watching me? Is it needful that some one should play the spy on my
movements, if I leave the house alone, and am absent for an hour or
two?"
"Kitty, Kitty, what do you mean? What have I done to call forth such a
speech?" said Geraldine, and dropping down on a seat, she covered her
face with her hands and burst into tears.
Kathleen's irritation gave place to regret in an instant. Nothing
could be more unlike Geraldine than the act of which she had been
accused, and she could not have imagined it possible that her cousin
would associate what savoured of meanness with her character. She was
not given to frequent tears, but she was feeling far from well, and
Kathleen's angry questioning caused her acute distress.
"What a wretch I am, Ger! do forgive me! I am horribly ashamed of
myself. To think I could say such dreadful things to you, and make you
cry by my unkindness. Of course you were not watching me on purpose,
even if you saw me. Oh dear, dear, when shall I learn to govern my
temper and my tongue?"
"I will tell you how it happened," replied Geraldine, raising her head
and wiping the tears from her pale cheeks.
"No, no. Tell me nothing," cried Kathleen. "I should wrong you by
listening. Do I not know that you would not do a mean thing to save
your life? Only forgive me."
"Please listen, Kitty. I must tell you."
"Then, listening shall be my penance," said Kathleen, "for every word
of your defence will be an added reproach."
"I will cut my words very short, dear, out of consideration for your
present penitence, and," added Geraldine, with a smile, "your hunger."
"Ah, I was forgetting that in the business of hating myself; but it
will come back with double force directly, as all merely animal wants
persist in doing."
"I was getting ready to come downstairs for luncheon, and I stopped to
rest for a moment, as my head felt giddy at first. As I looked across
the grounds and park, I was struck with the wondrous loveliness of the
winter landscape, and I felt a little envious of you, Kitty dear, as I
pictured you going merrily over the crisp path, and revelling in your
surroundings."
"Without any idea of even seeing you, I glanced in the direction of the
entrance. You were just parting with some one whom I took to be Aylmer.
That is all. Let us say no more about it."
Geraldine bent to kiss Kathleen, who had dropped down on the rug beside
her, and then rising from her seat said—
"Make haste, Kitty. There goes the luncheon bell."
Kathleen clung round her cousin's neck, and kissed her repeatedly.
"I will tell you and aunty all about my walk afterwards," she replied,
and then hurried to her own room to make herself presentable.
When the ladies gathered at the table, Mrs. Ellicott and Geraldine
were, probably, the only persons under the roof of Hollingsby Hall who
did not know that its mistress had been seen walking out with Captain
Torrance, "just for all the world as if they were keeping company,"
said one of the under-gardeners to Patty Mountain, in the simple words
which would have been used of one of her own degree seen under similar
circumstances.
"Ha! Keeping company with my young mistress!" replied Patty, angry at
the very mention of such a possibility. "As if Miss Mountford would
demean herself by looking the side he's on—in that way. You had better
hold your tongue altogether than talk nonsense like that."
"Nonsense or no, Patty, our young mistress did go a long walk with
the captain this very morning, and whether you believe my tongue, or
think I'm telling you what isn't true, won't alter what is. I've got my
eyesight, and I saw that groom of the captain's give our young lady a
letter, as I was coming back from the smithy, where I'd been getting a
tool mended. A little while since, after dinner-hour, I saw the captain
and her walking this way together, as smart as you please, laughing and
talking, and he brought her as far as the gate."
Such evidence was overpowering; but Patty, staunch to her mistress's
cause, was not going to allow that any importance was to be attached to
it.
"You might know," she said, "that Captain Jack, as folks call him,
just because he belongs to the county, as one may say, though by all
accounts he's no real captain now, seeing he had to leave the army
years ago, has impudence enough for anything. He would push himself
into our mistress's company without saying, 'By your leave, miss,' and
he would stick by her side like a leech, just to show off. What could
she do?"
"They meet in company sometimes, though very seldom, and a good thing
too; and of course she couldn't say straight out, 'Go away, I don't
want to be seen speaking to you.' And now, William Burns, if we are to
be friends, you'll not say another word to any living soul about having
seen that man walking with our young mistress."
"I wish nobody knew but me, Patty, and then no one else should know.
But plenty of people saw them walking together, your own father for
one, as they came up to the gates. And everybody would tell you, same
as I have done, that Miss Mountford looked as merry and pleased as
could be. As to not turning the side the captain was on! Why, you know
he's a rare handsome man, and good looks sometimes go farther than good
lives in gaining favour."
William Burns cast a sly glance at Patty as he gave utterance to this
opinion, which was intended to express a well-known truth, and to be
a quiet reproof to the listening damsel. William was Patty's open
admirer, but thus far had not received the measure of encouragement his
devotion merited. He attributed his ill-success to the fact that he had
a rival whose personal appearance was allowed to be far superior to his
own, and who, having seen service in the neighbourhood of London, knew
far more of the great world and its ways than honest William, who had
never been far from his native village.
"Don't tell me about looks!" retorted Patty. "Many an apple looks
tempting enough outside, but sets your teeth on edge when you taste it.
I prefer good ways to good looks."
Patty smiled on her faithful admirer more kindly than was her wont. She
was, like many another girl, proud to show her absolute power over him.
But, despite the various snubs she had thought fit to administer during
the conversation, William went away happy and hopeful after this last
conciliatory speech.