"And he went up to the wood when I was there, and Lena Lakeman came up
and found him, and--and, oh, I hated Mr. Garratt," and she burst into
tears. "I can't tell you how much I detested him, and yet you know he
was very straightforward in a way, and he was not afraid of saying what
he thought, and, of course, he couldn't help being vulgar--"
"And what about Hannah?"
"It was impossible to stay there with Hannah--and Mr. Garratt--and--all
the scenes." She was confused and incoherent, but Tom made out the story
in his own mind.
"And then?" he said.
"And then I slipped out in the darkness on Sunday night and came up
here. I thought, perhaps, Miss Hunstan would help me."
His face beamed with happiness. "Of course, I knew there couldn't really
be anything between you and Mr. Garratt; only it looked very odd, didn't
it? And then Lena told me about Sunday--about his being up there, you
know, and how she found you--"
"Oh, don't," Margaret cried, passionately. "It was mean of her to tell
you, for she heard everything I said to him--"
"Well, never mind," he answered, in a consoling voice, "we've done with
him, haven't we? But you know, Margaret," he added, falling into the
familiar address without being aware of it, "you can't go on staying in
rooms in London by yourself; and as for going on the stage, why it's all
nonsense. I am very impertinent to say it, of course; but you see our
fathers knew each other all their lives, so you must look upon me as an
old friend. It's a great bore the Lakemans being in Scotland; you might
have stayed with them--"
"No, I couldn't."
"Why not? Mrs. Lakeman is a good sort. Lena is a bit of a bore, of
course"--a remark which, for some unknown reason, brought exultation to
Margaret's heart. "As for being an actress, why you know it's all
nonsense--don't look so offended." His voice would have been tender if
he had not checked it. "People often come to grief in London--things are
too much for them."
"I am not offended," she answered; "but if things are too much for me I
suppose I must bear it as others have done; after all, the soldier who
falls on the battle-field is more to be envied than if he dies in his
native village."
"I should think you have done a good deal of reading; that sounds like
it, you know," at which they laughed, like the boy and girl they were.
"I wish you'd go back," he half entreated.
"But I won't," she said, obstinately.
"Then let me wire to the Lakemans and ask if they can have you?"
"I wouldn't for the world."
"You are very positive. And you mean to say that you are bent on this
stage business?"
"Yes; I'm bent on it," and she told him of her visit to Mr. Farley in
the morning and of the two rehearsals. He got up and walked about. He
was worried, of course--he felt that he ought to be worried--but he was
so happy at hearing that there was nothing between her and Mr. Garratt
that he found it difficult to be serious. "I wish I could make you see,"
he said, "that you are only taking the bread out of other people's
mouths. When I get into the House I shall make bread-snatching a penal
offence, and send you to prison."
"Bread-snatching! What do you mean?"
"Why, you see lots of women have to work for food and clothes and a
roof. Some try to act, some to dressmake, or write novels, or teach
infants--that's all right, of course. They've got to do it to get
through the world. If you have got a great deal of talent for acting,
even though you are not obliged to do it, it is all right to go on the
stage, and, of course, if you have genius you have no business to keep
it from the world. But there are a whole heap of women who want to do
things for the sake of getting a little more money than they really
need, or because they like being talked about, or for some other reason
that doesn't hold water, and they do it under easy conditions and snatch
the chances from the women who have got to do it for their
bread-and-butter. I think they are an immoral lot myself."
"But, Mr. Carringford--"
"You don't want money, do you?"
"I've got a hundred pounds in my pocket--"
"Splendid! I've only got two pounds ten in mine. But what have you got a
year?"
"Father has only two hundred. I have it while he is away."
"But when your father returns he'll be rich. His brother has made a pile
out there--heard so the other day--and he hasn't any children. Do go
back to the farm, there's a dear girl."
"But I can't," said Margaret, carefully concealing the pleasure she felt
at being called a dear girl. "Hannah wouldn't even let me in now.
Besides, I may be very stupid or I may be a genius; I want to find out,
and I shall be quite safe here."
"Oh yes, you'll be quite safe here. Mrs. Gilman is a nice woman. She's a
great friend of mine. I shall go and talk to her in a moment. My people
used to know her--believe it was my mother who sent Miss Hunstan here.
Well, if you are not going back to the farm, when you've done your
rehearsal to-day we might have a spree--drive about, or something. Mr.
Vincent let us do it before, so he wouldn't mind our doing it again."
"Of course not," she answered, joyfully.
"Shall I call for you at the theatre?"
"I don't know what time the rehearsal will be over."
"Then suppose I come here at four and we drive to Richmond, walk about
in the park, dine early, and get back here by nine? That'll be all
right, you know, or we'll take a steamer on the river Thames, as the
guide-books say, and go to Greenwich. Meanwhile, does Sir George
Stringer know that you are here?"
"No; but I am going to write to him, only I didn't think of it till
mother wrote."
"I shall tell the Lakemans you are here, of course."
"Yes," she answered, very doubtfully.
"I don't believe you care about them?"
"I've only seen Mrs. Lakeman twice." She stopped a moment. "Mr.
Carringford--" she began.
"Why do you call me that? It sounds so absurd."
"Does it," she said, and the color came to her face. "I was going to
ask--are you engaged to Lena Lakeman?" She almost laughed, for now,
somehow, the question seemed absurd.
"No. Are you engaged to Mr. Garratt?"
"Why, of course not!"
"That's all right, then. Didn't you say your rehearsal was at 11.30? I
might drive you down. Only twenty minutes--you must be punctual, you
know, if you are going on the stage."
"Of course," she laughed. "I'll go and get ready at once."