AN EVENING VISITOR.
The spring flowers were showing themselves, and the may was budding in
the hedges. I thought how charming it all looked, as I turned, this
Monday afternoon, into Mrs. Brightman's grounds, where laburnums
drooped their graceful blossoms, and lilacs filled the air with their
perfume; how significantly it all spoke to the heart of renewed life
after the gloom of winter, the death and decay of nature.
Mrs. Brightman was herself, enjoying the spring-tide. She sat, robed
in crape, on a bench amidst the trees, on which the sun was shining.
What a refined, proud, handsome face was hers! but pale and somewhat
haggard now. No other trace of her recent illness was apparent, except
a nervous trembling of the hands.
"This is a surprise," she said, holding out one of those hands to me
quite cordially. "I thought you had been too busy of late to visit me
in the day-time."
"Generally I am very busy, but I made time to come to-day. I have
something of importance to say to you, Mrs. Brightman. Will you hear
me?"
She paused to look at me--a searching, doubtful look. Did she fear
that I was about to speak to her of her _failing_? The idea occurred
to me.
"Certainly," she coldly replied. "Business must, of course, be
attended to. Would you prefer to go indoors or to sit out here?"
"I would rather remain here. I am not often favoured with such a
combination of velvet lawn and sunshine and sweet scents."
She made room for me beside her. And, with as little circumlocution
as possible, I brought out what I wanted--Annabel. When the heart is
truly engaged, a man at these moments can only be bashful, especially
when he sees it will be an uphill fight; but if the heart has nothing
to do with the matter, he can be as cool and suave as though he were
merely telling an everyday story.
Mrs. Brightman, hearing me to the end, rose haughtily.
"Surely you do not know what you are saying!" she exclaimed. "Or is it
that I fail to understand you? You cannot be asking for the hand of my
daughter?"
"Indeed--pardon me--I am. Mrs. Brightman, we----"
"Pardon _me_," she interrupted, "but I must tell you that it is
utterly preposterous. Say no more, Mr. Strange; not another word. My
daughter cannot marry a professional man. _I_ did so, you may reply:
yes, and have forfeited my proper place in the world ever since."
"Mr. Brightman would have given Annabel to me."
"Possibly so, though I think not. As Mr. Brightman is no longer here,
we may let that supposition alone. And you must allow me to say this
much, sir--that it is scarcely seemly to come to me on any such
subject so soon after his death."
"But----" I stopped in embarrassment, unable to give my reason for
speaking so soon. How could I tell Mrs. Brightman that it was to
afford Annabel a home and a protector: that this, her mother's home,
was not fitting for a refined and sensitive girl?
But I pressed the suit. I told her I had Annabel's consent, and that I
had recently been with her at Hastings. I should like to have added
that I had Miss Brightman's, only that it might have done more harm
than good. I spoke very slightly of Miss Brightman's projected
departure from England, when her house would be shut up and Annabel
must leave Hastings. And I added that I wanted to make a home for her
by that time.
I am sure she caught my implied meaning, for she grew agitated and her
hands shook as they lay on her crape dress. Her diamond rings, which
she had not discarded, flashed in the sunlight. But she rallied her
strength. All her pride rose up in rebellion.
"My daughter has her own home, sir; her home with me--what do you
mean? During my illness, I have allowed her to remain with her aunt,
but she will shortly return to me."
And when I would have urged further, and pleaded as for something
dearer than life, she peremptorily stopped me.
"I will hear no more, Mr. Strange. My daughter is descended on my side
from the nobles of the land--you must forgive me for thus alluding to
it--and it is impossible that I can forget that, or allow her to do
so. Never, with my consent, will she marry out of that grade: a
professional man is, in rank, beneath her. This is my decision, and
it is unalterable. The subject is at an end, and I beg of you never
again to enter upon it."
There was no chance of my pursuing it then, at any rate. Hatch came
from the house, a folded cloak on her arm, and approached her
mistress.
"The carriage is at the gate, ma'am."
Mrs. Brightman rose at once: she was going for a drive. After what had
just passed, I held out my arm to her with some hesitation. She put
the tips of her fingers within it, with a stiff "Thank you," and we
walked to the gate in silence. I handed her into the open carriage;
Hatch disposed the cloak upon her knees, assisted by the footman. With
a cold bow, Mrs. Brightman, who had already as coldly shaken hands
with me, drove away.
Hatch, always ready for a gossip, stood within the little iron gate
while she spoke to me.
"We be going away for a bit, sir," she began. "Did you know it?"
"No. Mrs. Brightman has not mentioned the matter to me."
"Well, we be, then," continued Hatch; "missis and me and Perry. Mr.
Close have got her to consent at last. I don't say that she was well
enough to go before; Close thought so, but I didn't. He wants her
gone, you see, Mr. Charles, to get that fancy out of her head about
master."
"But does she still think she sees him?"
"Not for the past few days," replied Hatch. "She has changed her
bedroom, and taken to the best spare one; and she has been better in
herself. Oh, she'll be all right now for a bit, if only----"
"If only what?" I asked, for Hatch had paused.
"Well, you know, sir. If only she can control herself. I'm certain she
is trying to," added Hatch. "There ain't one of us would be so glad to
find it got rid of for good and all as she'd be. She's put about
frightfully yet at Miss Annabel's knowing of it."
"And where is it that you are going to?"
"Missis talked of Cheltenham; it was early, she thought, for the
seaside; but this morning she got a Cheltenham newspaper up, and saw
that amid the company staying there were Captain and Lady Grace
Chantrey. 'I'm not going where my brother and that wife of his are,'
she says to me in a temper--for, as I dare say you've heard, Mr.
Charles, they don't agree. And now she talks of Brighton. Whatever
place she fixes on, Perry is to be sent on first to take lodgings."
"Well, Hatch," I said, "the change from home will do your mistress
good. She is much better. I trust the improvement will be permanent."
"Ah, if she would but take care! It all lies in that, sir," concluded
Hatch, as I turned away from the gate, and she went up the garden.
* * * * *
We must go back for a moment to the previous evening. Leaving behind
us the church of St. Clement Danes and its lighted windows, Lake and
I turned into Essex Street, arm-in-arm, went down it and reached my
door. I opened it with my latch-key. The hall-lamp was not lighted,
and I wondered at Watts's neglect.
"Go on up to my room," I said to Lake. "I'll follow you in a moment."
He bounded up the stairs, and the next moment Leah came up from the
kitchen with a lighted candle, her face white and terrified.
"It is only myself, Leah. Why is the lamp not alight?"
"Heaven be good to us, sir!" she cried. "I thought I heard somebody go
upstairs."
"Mr. Lake has gone up."
She dropped her candlestick upon the slab, and backed against the
wall, looking more white and terrified than ever. I thought she was
about to faint.
"Mr. Charles! I feel as if I could die! I ought to have bolted the
front door."
"But what for?" I cried, intensely surprised. "What on earth is the
matter, Leah?"
"He is up there, sir! Up in your front sitting-room. I put out the
hall-lamp, thinking the house would be best in darkness."
"Who is up there?" For in the moment's bewilderment I did not glance
at the truth.
"Mr. Tom, sir. Captain Heriot."
"_Mr. Tom!_ Up there?"
"Not many minutes ago, soon after Watts had gone out to church--for he
was late to-night--there came a ring at the doorbell," said Leah. "I
came up to answer it, thinking nothing. A rough-looking man stood, in
a wide-awake hat, close against the door there. 'Is Mr. Strange at
home?' said he, and walked right in. I knew his voice, and I knew him,
and I cried out. 'Don't be stupid, Leah; it's only me,' says he. 'Is
Mr. Charles upstairs? Nobody with him, I hope.' 'There's nobody to
come and put his head in the lion's mouth, as may be said, there at
all, sir,' said I; and up he went, like a lamplighter. I put the
hall-lamp out. I was terrified out of my senses, and told him you were
at Hastings, but I expected you in soon. And Mr. Charles," wound up
Leah, "I think he must have gone clean daft."
"Light the lamp again," I replied. "It always _is_ alight, you know.
If the house is in darkness, you might have a policeman calling to
know what was the matter."
Tom was in a fit of laughter when I got upstairs. He had taken off his
rough overcoat and broad-brimmed hat, and stood in a worn--very much
worn--suit of brown velveteen breeches and gaiters. Lake stared at him
over the table, a comical expression on his face.
"Suppose we shake hands, to begin with," said Lake. And they clasped
hands heartily across the table.
"Did you know me just now, in the Strand, Lake?" asked Tom Heriot.
"I did," replied Lake, and his tone proved that he meant it. "I said
to Charley, here, that I had just seen a fellow very like Tom Heriot;
but I knew who it was, fast enough."
"You wouldn't have known me, though, if I hadn't lifted my face to the
lamp-light. I forget myself at moments, you see," added Tom, after a
pause. "Meeting you unexpectedly, I was about to speak as in the old
days, and recollected myself only just in time. I say"--turning
himself about in his velveteens--"should you take me for a
gamekeeper?"
"No, I should not: you don't look the thing at all," I put in testily,
for I was frightfully vexed with him altogether. "I thought you must
have been taken up by your especial friend, Wren. Twice have I been to
the trysting-place as agreed, but you did not appear."
"No; but I think he nearly had me," replied Tom.
"How was that?"
"I'll tell you," he answered, as we all three took chairs round the
fire, and I stirred it into a blaze. "On the Wednesday I did not go
out at all; I told you I should not. On the Thursday, after dusk, I
went out to meet you, Charley. It was early, and I strolled in for a
smoke with Lee and a chat with Miss Betsy. The old man began at once:
'Captain Strange, Policeman Wren has been here, asking questions about
you.' It seems old Wren is well known in the neighbourhood----"
"Captain Strange?" cried Lake. "Who is Captain Strange?"
"I am--down there," laughed Tom. "Don't interrupt, please. 'What
questions?' I said to Lee. 'Oh, what your name was, and where you came
from, and if I had known you long, and what your ship was called,'
answered Lee. 'And you told him?' I asked. 'Well, I should have told
him, but for Betsy,' he said. 'Betsy spoke up, saying you were a
sailor-gentleman that came in to buy tobacco and newspapers; and that
was all he got out of us, not your name, captain, or anything. As
Betsy said to me afterwards, it was not our place to answer questions
about Captain Strange: if the policeman wanted to know anything, let
him apply to the captain himself. Which I thought good sense,'
concluded Lee. As it was."
"Well, Tom?"
"Well, I thought it about time to go straight home again," said Tom;
"and that's why I did not meet you, Charley. And the next day, Friday,
I cleared out of my diggings in that quarter of the globe, rigged
myself out afresh, and found other lodgings. I am nearer to you now,
Charley: vegetating in the wilds over Blackfriars Bridge."
"How could you be so imprudent as to come here to-night? or to be seen
in so conspicuous a spot as the Strand?"
"The fit took me to pay you a visit, old fellow. As to the Strand--it
is a fine thoroughfare, you know, and I had not set eyes on it since
last summer. I walked up and down a bit, listening to the church
bells, and looking about me."
"You turn everything into ridicule, Tom."
"Better that, Charley, than into sighing and groaning."
"How did you know that Leah would open the door to you? Watts might
have done so."
"I had it all cut-and-dried. 'Is Mrs. Brown at home?' I should have
said, in a voice Watts would never have known. 'Mrs. Brown don't live
here,' old Watts would have answered; upon which I should have
politely begged his pardon and walked off."
"All very fine, Tom, and you may think yourself amazingly clever; but
as sure as you are living, you will run these risks once too often."
"Not I. Didn't I give old Leah a scare! You should have heard her
shriek."
"Suppose it had been some enemy--some stickler for law and
justice--that I had brought home with me to-night, instead of Lake?"
"But it wasn't," laughed Tom. "It was Lake himself. And I guess he is
as safe as you are."
"Be sure of that," added Lake. "But what do you think of doing,
Heriot? You cannot hide away for ever in the wilds of Blackfriars. _I_
would not answer for your safety there for a day."
"Goodness knows!" said Tom. "Perhaps Charley could put me up here--in
one of his top bedrooms?"
Whether he spoke in jest or earnest, I knew not. He might remember
that I was running a risk in concealing him even for an hour or two.
Were it discovered, the law might make me answer for it.
"I should like something to eat, Charley."
Leaving him with Lake, I summoned Leah, and bade her bring up quickly
what she had. She speedily appeared with the tray.
"Good old Leah!" said Tom to her. "That ham looks tempting."
"Mr. Tom, if you go on like this, loitering in the open streets and
calling at houses, trouble will overtake you," returned Leah, in much
the same tone she had used to reprimand him when a child. "I wonder
what your dear, good mother would say to it if she saw you throwing
yourself into peril. Do you remember, sir, how often she would beg of
you to be good?"
"My mother!" repeated Tom, who was in one of his lightest moods. "Why,
you never saw her. She was dead and buried and gone to heaven before
you knew anything of us."
"Ah well, Master Tom, you know I mean Mrs. Heriot--afterwards Mrs.
Strange. It wouldn't be you, sir, if you didn't turn everything into a
jest. She was a good mother to you all."
"That she was, Leah. Excused our lessons for the asking, and fed us on
jam."
He was taking his supper rapidly the while; for, of course, he had to
be away before church was over and Watts was home again. The man might
have been true and faithful; little doubt of it; but it would have
added one more item to the danger.
Lake went out and brought a cab; and Tom, his wide-awake low on his
brow, his rough coat on, and his red comforter round about his throat,
vaulted into it, to be conveyed over Blackfriars Bridge to any point
that he might choose to indicate.
"It is an amazing hazard his going about like this," cried Lake, as we
sat down together in front of the fire. "He must be got out of England
as quickly as possible."
"But he won't go."
"Then, mark my words, Charles, bad will come of it."