CALAMITY.
One afternoon the post brought side by side with a letter from lord
Gartley, one in a strange-looking cramped hand, which Mrs. Raymount
recognized.
"What can Sarah be writing about?" she said, a sudden foreboding of evil
crossing her mind.
"The water-rate perhaps," answered Hester, opening her own letter as she
withdrew to read it. For she did not like to read Gartley's letters
before her mother--not from shyness, but from shame: she would have
liked ill to have her learn how poor her Gartley's utterances were upon
paper. But ere she was six slow steps away, she turned at a cry from her
mother.
"Good heavens, what can it be? Something has happened to him!" said Mrs.
Raymount.
Her face was white almost as the paper she held. Hester put her arms
round her.
"Mother! mother! what is it?" she cried. "Anything about Corney?"
"I thought something would come to stop it all. We were too happy!" she
moaned, and began to tremble.
"Come to papa, mamma dear," said Hester, frightened, but quiet. She
stood as if fixed to the ground. Mr. Raymount's letters had been carried
to him in the study, and one of them had put him into like perturbation.
He was pacing up and down the room almost as white as his wife, but his
pallor was that of rage.
"The scoundrel!" he groaned, and seizing a chair hurled it against the
wall. "I had the suspicion he was a mean dog! Now all the world will
know it--and that he is my son! What have I done--what has my wife done,
that we should give being to a vile hound like this? What is there in
her or in me--?"
There he paused, for he remembered: far back in the family some five
generations or so, one had been hanged for forgery.
He threw himself in a chair, and wept with rage and shame. He had for
years been writing of family and social duties; here was his
illustration! His books were his words; here was his deed! How should he
ever show himself again! He would leave the country! Damn the property!
The rascal should never succeed to it! Mark should have it--if he lived!
But he hoped he would die! He would like to poison them all, and go with
them out of the disgrace--all but the dog that had brought it on them!
Hester marry an earl! Not if the truth would prevent it! Her engagement
must at once be broken! Lord Gartley marry the sister of a thief!
While he was thus raging a knock came to the door, and a maid entered.
"Please, sir," she said, "Miss Raymount says will you come to mis'ess:
she's taken bad!"
This brought him to himself. The horrible fate was hers too! He must go
to her. How could she have heard the vile news? She must have heard it!
what else could make her ill! He followed the maid to the lawn. It was a
cold morning of January sunshine. There stood his wife in his daughter's
arms, trembling from head to foot, and apparently without power of
motion! He asked no question, took her in his arms, bore her to her
room, laid her on the bed, and sat down beside her, hardly caring if she
died, for the sooner they were all dead the better! She lay like one
dead, and do what she could Hester was unable to bring her to herself.
But by and by the doctor came.
She had caught up the letter and as her father sat there, she handed it
to him. The substance and manner of it were these:
"Dear mistress, it is time to let you know of the goings on here. I
never held with bearing of tales against my fellow-servants, and perhaps
it's worse to bring tales against Master Cornelius, as is your own flesh
and blood, but what am I to do as was left in charge, and to keep the
house respectable? He's not been home this three nights; and you ought
to know as there is a young lady, his cousin from New Zealand, as is
come to the house a three or four times since you went away, and stayed
a long time with him, though it is some time now that I ain't seen her.
She is a pretty, modest-looking young lady; though I must say I was
ill-pleased when Mr. Cornelius would have her stay all night; and I up
and told him if she was his cousin it wasn't as if she was his sister,
and it wouldn't do, and I would walk out of the house if he insisted on
me making up a bed for her. Then he laughed in my face, and told me I
was an old fool, and he was only making game of me. But that was after
he done his best to persuade me, and I wouldn't be persuaded. I told him
if neither he nor the young lady had a character to keep, I had one to
lose, and I wouldn't. But I don't think he said anything to her about
staying all night; for she come down the stair as innocent-like as any
dove, and bid me good night smiling, and they walked away together. And
I wouldn't by no means have took upon me to be a spy, nor I wouldn't
have mentioned the thing, for it's none of my business so long as nobody
doesn't abuse the house as is my charge; but he ain't been home for
three nights, and there is the feelings of a mother! and it's my part to
let her know as her son ain't slept in his own bed for three nights, and
that's a fact. So no more at present, and I hope dear mis'ess it won't
kill you to hear on it. O why did his father leave him alone in London,
with none but an old woman like me, as he always did look down upon, to
look after him! Your humble servant for twenty years to command, S. H."
* * * * *
Mrs. Raymount had not read the half of this. It was enough to learn he
had not been home for three nights. How is it? Parents with no
reasonable ground for believing their children good, nay with
considerable ground for believing them worse than many, are yet seized
as by the awfully incredible when they hear they are going wrong. Helen
Raymount concluded her boy had turned into bad ways because left in
London, although she knew he had never taken to good ways while they
were all with him. If he had never gone right why should she wonder he
had gone wrong?
The doctor was sitting by the bedside, watching the effect of something
he had given her. Mr. Raymount rose and led Hester from the
room--sternly almost, as if she had been to blame for it all.
Some people when they are angry, speak as if they were angry with the
person to whom they are in fact looking for comfort. When in trouble few
of us are masters enough of ourselves, because few of us are children
enough of our Father in heaven, to behave like gentlemen--after the
fashion of "the first stock father of gentleness." But Hester understood
her mother and did not resent.
"Is this all your mother knows, Hester?" said her father, pointing to
the letter in his hand. She told him her mother had read but the first
sentence or two.
He was silent--returned to the bedside, and stood silent. The life of
his dearest had been suddenly withered at the root, like the gourd of
Jonah, and had she not learned nearly the worst!
His letter was from his wife's brother, in whose bank Cornelius was a
clerk. A considerable deficit had been discovered in his accounts. He
had not been to the bank for two days before, and no trace of him was to
be found. His uncle, from regard to the feelings of his sister, had not
allowed the thing to transpire, but had requested the head of his office
to be silent: he would wait his brother-in-law's reply before taking any
steps. He feared the misguided youth had reckoned on the forbearance of
an uncle; but for the sake of his own future, if for no other reason,
the thing could not be passed over!
"Passed over!" Had Gerald Raymount been a Roman with the power of life
and death over his children, he would in his present mood have put his
son to death with his own hands. But for his wife's illness he would
have been already on the way to London to repay the missing money; for
his son's sake he would not cross his threshold! So at least he said to
himself.
But something must be done. He must send some one! Who was there to
send? There was Hester! With her uncle she was a favourite! nor would
she dread the interview, which, as the heat of his rage yielded to a
cold despair, he felt would be to him an unendurable humiliation. For he
had had many arguments, not always quite friendly, with this same
brother-in-law concerning the way he brought up his children: they had
all turned out well, and here was his miserable son a felon, disgracing
both families! Yes; let Hester go! There were things a woman could do
better than a man! Hester was no child now, but a capable woman! While
she was gone he could be making up his mind what to do with the wretched
boy!
He led Hester again from her mother's room to his, and gave her her
uncle's letter to read. Tell her its contents he could not. He watched
her as she read--watched his own heart as it were in her bosom--saw her
grow pale, then flush, then turn pale again. At length her face settled
into a look of determination. She laid the letter on the table, and rose
with a steady troubled light in her eyes. What she was thinking of he
could not tell, but he made at once the proposal.
"Hester," he said, "I cannot leave your mother; you must go for me to
your uncle and do the best you can. If it were not for your mother I
would have the rascal prosecuted; but it would break her heart."
Hester wasted no words of reply: She had often heard him say there ought
to be no interference with public justice for private ends.
"Yes, papa," she answered. "I shall be ready in a moment. If I ride
Hotspur I shall catch the evening train."
"There is time to take the brougham."
"Am I to say anything to Corney, papa?" she asked, her voice trembling
over the name.
"You have nothing to do with him," he answered sternly. "Where is the
good of keeping a villain from being as much of a villain as he has got
it in him to be? I will sign you a blank cheque, which your uncle can
fill up with the amount he has stolen. Come for it as soon as you are
ready."
Hester thought as she went whether, if it had not been for the
possibility of repentance, the world would ever have been made at all.
On her way to her room she met the major, looking for herself, to tell
him about her mother, of whose attack, as he had been out for a long
walk, he had but just heard.
"But what did it, Hester?" he said. "I can smell in the air something
has gone wrong: what the deuce is it? There's always something getting
out of gear in this best of worlds?"
She would have passed him with a word in her haste, but he turned and
walked with her.
"The individual, any individual, all the individuals," he went on, "may
come to smash, but the world is all right, notwithstanding, and a good
serviceable machine!--by George, without a sound pinion in all the
carcass of it, or an engineer that cares there should be!"
They had met in a dark part of the corridor, and had now, at a turn in
it, come opposite a window. Then first the major saw Hester's face: he
had never seen her look like that!
"Is your mother in danger?" he asked, his tone changing to the gentlest,
for his heart was in reality a most tender one.
"She is very ill," answered Hester. "The doctor has been with her now
three hours. I am going up to London for papa. He can't leave her."
"Going up to London--and by the night-train!" said the major to himself.
"Then there has been bad news! What can they be? Money matters? No;
cousin Helen is not the one to send health after money! It's something
worse than that! I have it! That scoundrel Corney has been about some
mischief--damn him! I shouldn't be surprised to hear anything bad of
him! But what can you do, my dear?" he said aloud. "It's not fit--"
He looked up. Hester was gone.
She put a few things together, drank a cup of tea brought to her room,
went to her father and received the cheque, and was ready by the time
the brougham came to the door with a pair of horses. She would not look
at her mother again lest she might be sufficiently revived to wonder
where she was going, but hastened down, and saw no one on the way. One
of the servants was in the hall, and opened the carriage-door for her.
The moment it closed she was on her way through the gathering dusk to
the railway station.
While the lodge-gate was being opened, she thought she saw some one get
up on the box beside the coachman, and fancied it must be a groom going
with them. The drive was a long and anxious one; it seemed to her all
the time as if the horses could not get on. In spots the road was
slippery, and as the horses were not roughed they had to go slowly, and
parts were very heavy. What might not be happening to Corney, she
thought, while she was on the way to his rescue! She kept fancying one
dreadful thing after another. It was like a terrible dream, only with
the assurance of reality in it.
The carriage stopped, the door opened, and there was the major in a huge
fur coat, holding out his hand to help her down. It was as great a
pleasure as surprise, and she showed both.
"You didn't think I was going to let you travel alone?" he said. "Who
knows what wolf might be after my Red riding-hood! I'll go in another
carriage of course if you wish it; but in this train I'm going to
London."
Hester told him she was only too glad of his escort. Careful not to seem
in the least bent on the discovery of the cause of her journey, he
seated himself in the farthest corner, for there was no one else in the
carriage, and pretended to go to sleep. And now first began Hester's
private share in the general misery of the family. In the presence of
her suffering father and mother, she put off looking into the mist that
kept gathering deeper and deeper, filled with forms undefined, about
herself. Now these forms began to reveal themselves in shifting yet
recognizable reality. If this miserable affair should be successfully
hushed up, there was yet one must know it: she must immediately acquaint
lord Gartley with what had taken place! And therewith one of the shapes
in the mist settled into solidity: if the love between them had been of
an ideal character, would she have had a moment's anxiety as to how her
lover would receive the painful news? But therewith her own mind was
made up: if he but hesitated, that would be enough! Nothing could make
her marry a man who had once hesitated whether to draw back or not. It
was impossible.