THE LAWYER'S VISIT.
While her young sister-in-law was thus seeking fortune in strange
places, Mrs. Fred Liddell was spending a busy and, it must be confessed,
a cheerful morning, preparing for the anticipated visit of Colonel
Ormonde.
It was rather inconsiderate, she thought, of Katherine to go out and
leave all the extra dusting of the drawing-room to her. If she,
Katherine, had remained at home she would have taken the boys, as she
always did, and then Jane, the house and children's maid, would have
been able to help.
If Katherine would only stay out all day she could forgive her--but she
would be sure to come in for dinner, and so appear at afternoon tea,
which by no means suited Mrs. F. Liddell's views.
The Colonel had given so very highly colored a description of the young
lady who was with the little boy so nearly run over on the previous
morning that the pretty widow's jealousy was aroused.
In spite of her flightiness and love of pleasure she had a very keen
sense of her own interest, and perceiving Colonel Ormonde's decided
appreciation, she had made up her mind to marry him.
This, she felt, would be more easily designed than accomplished. Colonel
Ormonde was an old soldier in every sense, and an old bachelor to boot,
with an epicurean taste for good dinners and pretty women. He might
sacrifice something for the first, but the latter were too plentiful and
too come-at-able to be worth great cost. Still, it was generally
believed he was matrimonially inclined, and Mrs. Fred thought she might
have as good a chance as any one else, had she not been hampered with
her two boys.
It would be too dreadful if Ormonde's fancy were caught by Katherine's
bold eyes and big figure. So Mrs. Fred wished that her sister-in-law
might not put in an appearance.
"She is not a bit like other girls," thought the little woman, as she
finally shook the duster out of the open window and set herself to
distribute the flowers she had bought the previous evening to the best
advantage. "She has no dear friends, no acquaintances with whom she
likes to stop and chatter; she never stays out, and I don't think she
ever had the ghost of a lover. When _I_ was her age I had had a dozen,
and I was married. Poor Fred! Heigho! I wish he had left me a little
money, and I am sure I should never dream of giving him a successor. But
for the sake of the dear boys I should never think of marrying! How
cruel it is to be so poor, and to be with such unenterprising people! If
Mrs. Liddell would only venture to make an appearance, and just risk a
little, she might dispose of Kate and of me too. There _are_ men who
might admire Kate, and there they go on screwing and scribbling. I wish
my mother-in-law would write for some big magazine--_Blackwood_ or
_Temple Bar_--or not write at all! That will do, I think. That is the
only strong arm-chair in the house; it will stand nicely beside the
sofa. Oh, have you come in already, children?"--as the two boys peeped
in. "Couldn't Jane have kept you out a little longer! Don't attempt to
come in here!"
"Jane had to come back to lay the cloth. Mamma, where is aunty?"
"She has not come in yet. Why, dear me, it is nearly one o'clock! Go and
get off your boots, my darlings, and ask grandmamma when she expects
aunty."
Mrs. Liddell did not know when Katherine might return, and, moreover,
she was getting uneasy. She did not like to say much about her errand,
for she knew her daughter-in-law thought but indifferently of her
writings, and with an indescribable "crass" dislike of what she could
not do herself, would have been rather pleased than otherwise to know
that a manuscript had been rejected.
In looking over one of the drawers in her writing-table Mrs. Liddell had
found that Katherine had left the shorter story behind. This rendered
her prolonged absence less accountable, for she could have interviewed
several publishers of three-volume novels in the time. The poor lady
naturally feared that they must have refused even to look at her work,
or Katherine would have returned.
When dinner was over, and four o'clock came, Mrs. Liddell's anxiety rose
high; she could not bear her daughter-in-law's presence, and retired
into her own den.
"Won't you stay and see Colonel Ormonde? He used to be quite friendly
with poor Fred in India, and I should like him to see what a nice
handsome mamma-in-law I have," said Mrs. Fred, caressingly: she rather
liked her mother-in-law, and felt it was as well to be on affectionate
terms with her.
"No, my dear; my head is not quite free from pain, and I want to give
Katherine something to eat when she comes in; she will be very hungry.
Then I can see that the children do not get into any mischief in the
garden."
The younger lady then went to pose herself with a dainty piece of
fancy-work in the drawing-room, and the elder to sit at her
writing-table, pen in hand, but not writing; only thinking round and
round the circle of difficulties which hedged her in, and longing for
the sight of her daughter's face.
At last it beamed upon her through the open door-window which led out on
the stairway to the garden; her approach had been seen by her little
nephews, who had admitted her through the back gate.
"You must not come in now, dears; I want to talk to grannie. If you keep
away I will tell you a nice story in the evening."
"My dearest child, what has kept you? I have been uneasy; and how
dreadfully tired you look!"
"I am tired, but that is nothing. I think, dear, I have a little good
news for you."
"Come into the dining-room. I have some dinner for you, and we can talk
quietly. Ada is expecting a visitor."
But Katherine could not eat until she told her adventures. First she
described her interview with Mr. Channing.
"It is something certainly to have left my unfortunate MS. in his hands;
still I dare not hope much from that," said Mrs. Liddell.
"Then, mother dear," resumed Katherine, "I ventured to do something for
which I hope you will not be angry with me--I have found John Liddell! I
have invaded his den; I have spoken to him; I have cooked a chop for
him, as I used for you last winter; and though I have been sent empty
away, I am not without hopes that he will help us out of our
difficulties."
"Katie, dear, what _have_ you done?" cried her mother, aghast. "How did
you manage--how did you dare?" Whereupon Katherine gave her mother a
graphic account of the whole affair.
"It is a wonderful history," said Mrs. Liddell. "I feel half frightened;
yet if Mr. Liddell's solicitor is an honest, respectable man, he will
surely be on our side; at the same time, I am half afraid of falling
into John Liddell's clutches. He has the character of being a relentless
creditor: he will have his pound of flesh! If he gives this money as a
loan, and I fail in paying the interest, he will take me by the throat
as he would the greatest stranger."
"Why should you fail?" cried Katherine. "You only want time to succeed.
I am sure you will sell your books, and then we can pay principal and
interest; besides, old Mr. Liddell could _not_ treat his brother's widow
as he would a stranger."
"I am not so sure."
"And you are not angry with me for going to him?"
"No, dear love; I am proud of your courage. Had I known what you
intended, I should have forbidden you. I should never have allowed you
to run the risk of being insulted: it was too much for you. I wish I
could shield you from all such trials, my Kate; but I cannot--I cannot."
The unwonted tears stood in her kind, faded eyes.
"Ah, mother, _you_ have borne the burden and heat of the day long enough
alone; I must take my share now, and I assure you, after my adventures
to-day, I feel quite equal to do so. I have been too long a heedless
idler; I want to be a real help to you now. Do you think I have done any
good?"
"Yes, certainly! but everything depends on this man who is coming
to-morrow. Your poor father used to know Mr. Liddell's solicitor, and I
think liked him; of course he may have a different one now. Still it is
a gleam of hope; which is doubly sweet because _you_ brought it."
Katherine hastily pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, and choked down
the sob that would swell her throat. She was dreadfully tired,
physically and mentally.
"Ada asked me for that money this morning as soon as you were gone. I
told her I could not return it for a while, and she did not look
pleased, naturally enough."
"I think she is very selfish," said Katherine.
"No, dear, only thoughtless, and younger than her years. She is always
nice with me, and would be with you if you had more patience. You must
remember that no character is stronger than its weakest part, and hers
is--"
"Self," put in Katherine.
"No! love of admiration and pleasure," added her mother.
"Well," returned Katherine, good-humoredly, "they both are very nice."
Here the person under discussion came hastily into the room, in the
crispest of lilac and white muslins, with a black sash and bows, and a
rose at her waist, looking as fresh as if the heaviest atmosphere could
not touch her.
"Oh, you have arrived, Katherine! I wish you would come and see Colonel
Ormonde. He wants so much to speak to you!"
"But I do not want to speak to him. I don't want to see any one."
"Do come, Katie! I assure you you have made quite an impression; come
and deepen it," cried Mrs. Frederic, with a persuasive smile, while she
thought, "She is looking awfully bad and pale, and Katherine without
color is nowhere; her eyes are red too.--Come, like a dear," she
persisted, aloud, "unless you want to go up and beautify."
"No, I certainly do not," said Katherine, rising impatiently. "I will go
with you for a minute or two, but I am too tired to talk."
"Your hair is in utter disorder," remarked her mother.
"It is no matter," returned Katherine, following her sister-in-law out
of the room.
Her dress was by no means becoming. It was of thin black material, the
remains of her last year's mourning; the white frill at her throat was
crushed by the friction of her jacket, and some splashes on the skirt
gave her a travel-stained aspect. But no disorder could hide the fine
warm bronze brown of her abundant hair, nor disguise the shape of her
brows and eyes, though the eyes themselves lost something of their color
from the paleness of her cheeks; nor did her weariness detract from the
charm of her delicate upturned chin.
"Here is my naughty sister-in-law, who has been wandering about all the
morning alone, and making us quite uneasy."
"What! In search of further adventures--eh?" asked Colonel Ormonde,
rising and making an elaborate bow. He spoke in a tone half paternal,
half gallant, in right of which elderly gentlemen sometimes take
liberties.
"I went to do a commission for my mother," said Katherine,
indifferently.
"Ah! if we had a corps of such _commissionnaires_ as you are, we should
spend our lives sending and receiving messages," returned the Colonel,
with a laugh. He spoke in short authoritative sentences, with a loud
harsh voice, and in what might be termed the "big bow-wow" style.
"You must not believe all Colonel Ormonde says," observed the fair
widow, smiling and slightly shaking her head. "He is a very faithless
man."
"By George! Mrs. Liddell, I don't deserve such a character from _you_.
But"--addressing Katherine, who had simply looked at him with quiet,
contemplative eyes--"I hope you have recovered from your fright of
yesterday. I never saw eyes or cheeks express terror so eloquently."
"Yes, I was dreadfully frightened, and very, very grateful to the
gentleman who saved poor Cecil. I hope he was not hurt?"
"Shall I tell him to come and report himself in person?"
"No, thank you."
"Wouldn't you like to thank him again? It might be a pleasant process to
both parties--eh?"
Katherine smiled good-humoredly, while she thought, "What an idiot!"
"Katherine is a very serious young woman," said Mrs. Frederic--"quite
too awfully in earnest; is always striving painfully to do her duty. She
despises frivolities and never dreams of flirtation."
"This is an appalling description," said Ormonde. "Pray is it on
principle you renounce flirtation?"
"For a much better reason," replied Katherine, wearily. "Because I have
no one to flirt with."
"By Jove! there's a state of destitution! Why, it is a blot on society
that you should be left lamenting."
"Yes; is it not melancholy?" replied Katherine, carelessly. "Ada, I am
so tired I am sure you will excuse me if I go away to rest?"
"Before you go," said Ormonde, eagerly, "I have a request to make. A
chum of mine, Sir James Brereton, and myself are going up the river on
Thursday, with some friends of Mrs. Liddell's--a picnic affair. Your
sister-in-law has promised to honor me with her company, and I earnestly
hope _you_ will accompany her. I promise you shall be induced to rescind
your anti-flirtation resolutions."
"Up the river?" repeated Katherine, with a wistful look, and paused. "On
Thursday next? Thank you very much, but I'm engaged--quite particularly
engaged."
"Nonsense, Katie!" cried her sister-in-law. "Where in the world are you
going? You know you never have an engagement anywhere."
"Come, Miss Liddell, do not be cruel. We will have a very jolly day, and
I'll try and persuade your hero of yesterday to meet you."
"I should like to go very much, but I really cannot. I thank you for
thinking of me." She stood up, and, with a slight bow, said,
"Good-morning," leaving the room before the stout Colonel could reach
the door to open it.
"Phew! that was sharp, short, and decisive," said Ormonde.
"Yes, wasn't it? She is quite a character. Leave her to me if you wish
her to go. I will manage it."
"Yes, do. She is something fresh, though she is not so handsome as I
thought. I suspect there is a strong dash of the devil in her."
"I cannot say _I_ have seen much of it," said the young widow, frankly.
She was extremely shrewd in a small way, and had adopted an air of
candid good-nature as best suited to her style and complexion. "Handsome
or not, if you would like to have her at your party, I will try to
persuade her to come."
"Thanks. What a little brick you are!" said Ormonde, admiringly. "No
nonsense with you, or trying to keep a pretty girl out of it. I say,
Mrs. Liddell, it must be an awful life for you, shut up in this stuffy
suburban box?"
"Well, it is not cheerful; but I have no choice, so I just make the best
of it," she returned, with as bright a smile as she could muster. "No
use spoiling one's eyes or one's temper over the inevitable. Then I am
really fond of my mother-in-law, poor soul! She would spoil me if she
had the means; and Katherine--well, she isn't bad."
"By George! if you make your mother-in-law fond of you, you must be an
angel incarnate."
"An angel!" echoed the little lady. "That would never do. No, no; it is
because I am so desperately human I get on with them all."
"Delightfully human, you mean. No house could be dull with you in it.
There's nothing like pluck and good-humor in a woman."
"Well, Heaven knows I want both!"
"I am afraid I must be off," said the Colonel. "I am going to dine with
Eversley, and he has a villa at Rochampton--quite a journey, you know.
Where is the little chap that was nearly run over?"
"Playing in the garden, very happy and very dirty. I dare not have him
in--he always climbs up and hangs about me, for I have my best dress
on!"--the last words in large capitals.
"A deuced becoming dress too; but it's not so fine as what you had on
yesterday."
"No, of Course not; there are degrees of best dress. Yesterday's was my
_very_ best go-to-luncheon dress, and must last me a whole year."
"A year! By Jove! And you always look well dressed! You are a wonderful
woman! Now I must be off. Mrs. Burnett says she will send the carriage
for you on Thursday. We drive down to Twickenham."
"Oh, thank you, Colonel Ormonde! I am sure I am indebted to you for that
lift," said Mrs. Frederic, while she thought, "He might have driven me
down himself."
"_Au revoir_, then. Always hard to tear myself away from such a charming
little witch as you are."
Ormonde kissed her hand and departed.
"Jolly, plucky little woman," he thought, as he walked toward the
Bayswater Road, looking for a hansom. "Just the sort to save a man
trouble, and get full value out of a sovereign." He continued to muse on
the wonderful discovery he had made of a woman perfectly planned,
according to man's ideal--sweet, yielding, tenderly sympathetic, willing
and capable to ward off all annoyances from her master, full of feeling
for _his_ troubles, and not to be moved by her own to sad looks,
unbecoming tears, or downcast spirits--all softness to him, all
bristling sharpness to the rest of the world. "Such a woman would answer
my purpose as well as a woman with money, and she is an uncommonly
tempting morsel. But then those infernal boys! I am not going to provide
for another fellow's brats, and they can't have more than sixty pounds
between them from the fund! No; I must not make an ass of myself, even
for a pretty, clever woman, who has rather a hankering for myself, or I
am much mistaken. That sister-in-law of hers is the making of an
uncommon fine woman. There's a dash of a tragedy queen about her, but it
will be good fun to play her against the widow."
And the widow, as she rang for the house-maid to remove the tea-things,
indulged in a few speculations on her side. "He was evidently
disappointed with Katherine. I am not surprised. She is looking ill, and
she has _such_ ungracious manners! Of course she will come to this
Richmond party when I ask her, and I must ask her. Ormonde is a good
deal smitten with me, but he'll not lose his head. It is an awful thing
to be poor and to have two boys. Oh, how dreadful it is to live in this
horrible dull hole! I wonder if Colonel Ormonde will ever propose for
me! He is very nice and pleasant, but he is awfully selfish. I hate
selfishness. Perhaps if Mrs. Liddell would undertake to keep the little
boys altogether it might make matters easier. Poor children! if I were
only rich I would never wish to part with them; but who can hold out
against poverty?"
The night which followed was sleepless to Mrs. Liddell. How could she
close her eyes when so much depended on the visit she hoped to receive
to-morrow? If this agent of John Liddell's was propitious, she might get
breathing-time and be able to wait till her manuscript brought forth
some fruit; if not--well she dared not think of the reverse. She
listened to the soft, regular breathing of her daughter, who was wrapped
in refreshing slumber, and thanked God for the quick forgetfulness of
youth. It was like a fresh draught of life and hope to think of her
courage and perseverance in finding out and affronting her miserly
uncle. Good must come of it.
Day dawned bright and clear, and the little party met as usual at
breakfast. Neither mother nor daughter had breathed a word of their
hopes or fears to the pretty widow. Breakfast over, they all dispersed
to their usual avocations. Katherine, downstairs, was consulting cook,
and Mrs. Liddell was wearily sorting and tearing up papers, when the
servant came into the study and said, "Please, 'm, there's a gentleman
wanting you.'
"Where have you put him?" asked Mrs. Liddell, glancing at the card
presented to her, on which was printed, "Mr. C. B. Newton, 26 Manchester
Buildings."
"He is by the door, 'm."
"Oh, show him into the dining-room. Where is Mrs. Frederic?"
"Gone out, 'm."
"I will come directly," and Mrs. Liddell hastily locked a drawer and put
a weight on her papers; "Tell Miss Liddell to come to me," she said as
she passed.
A short, thick-set man of more than middle age, slightly bald, with an
upturned nose, quiet, watchful eyes of no particular color, and small
sandy mutton-chop whiskers, was standing near the window when she
entered. He made a quick bow, and stepped nearer "Mrs. Liddell?" he
asked.
"Yes, I am Mrs. Liddell."
"I have called on the part of my client, Mr. John Liddell, of Legrave
Crescent, to make certain inquiries. This note, which I received from
him yesterday afternoon, will explain the object of my visit."
"Pray sit down, Mr. Newton"--taking a chair as she spoke, while she read
the small, crabbed, tremulous characters written on the page presented
to her. The note contained directions to call on Mrs. Liddell and
ascertain if she really was the widow of his late brother; also what
security she could offer for a small loan.
Her color rose faintly as she read.
"You must not regard the plainness of business phraseology," said the
visitor, in dry, precise tones. "My client means no offence."
"Nor do I mean to take any," she replied, handing him back the note.
"Pray how am I to prove my own identity?"
"It would not, I suppose, be very difficult; but, as it happens, _I_ can
be your witness. I quite well remember seeing you with Mr. Liddell, your
late husband, some sixteen or seventeen years ago."
"Indeed! I am surprised that I do not recall you. I generally have a
good memory, but--"
"_I_ am not surprised. I was unhappily the bearer of an unpleasant
message, which excited Mr. Liddell considerably, and your attention was
absorbed by your efforts to calm him."
"I remember," said Mrs. Liddell, coloring deeply. "It was a trying
time."
"We will consider this inquiry answered. As regards the loan"--the door
opening to admit Katherine interrupted him; he rose and bowed formally
when her mother named her; then he resumed his sentence--"as regards
the loan, I must first know the amount it is proposed to borrow, in
order to judge of the security offered."
"I asked my uncle for thirty pounds, but I should be very glad if he
would lend us forty."
"No, Katie; I dare not take so much," interrupted her mother. "Remember,
it must be repaid; and," addressing the lawyer, she added, "the only
security I have to offer is the furniture of this house--furniture of
the simplest, as you will see."
"Have you seen Mr. Liddell?" asked Mr. Newton, a slight expression of
surprise passing over his face.
"My daughter has," said Mrs. Liddell.
"Yes; I ventured to visit him, because"--she hesitated, and then went
on, frankly--"because we wanted this money very much indeed; and I found
him in a sad condition." Katherine went on to describe the scene of
yesterday, dwelling on the desolate position of the old man. "I felt
frightened to leave him alone; he seems weak, and unfit to take care of
himself. I hope, Mr. Newton, you will go to him and induce him to have a
proper servant. I am going, because I promised in any case to go; and I
must give the little servant's mother the half-crown I promised her."
"I have been somewhat uneasy respecting Mr. Liddell. For a considerable
time I had my doubts of his cook housekeeper; but he is a man of strong
will and peculiar views. Then the fear of parting with money increases
with increasing years. I am glad Miss Liddell succeeded in making
herself known to him; he is a peculiar character--very peculiar." He
paused a moment, looking keenly at Katherine, and added: "With a view to
arranging for the loan you require, I must ask to look at your rooms. I
do not suppose I am a judge of such things, but the knowledge of former
transactions, my recollection of our last interview, determines me to
come myself rather than to send an ordinary employee."
"I feel your kind consideration warmly," said Mrs. Liddell. "Follow me,
and you shall see what few household goods I possess."
Gravely and in silence Mr. Newton was conducted to the drawing-room, the
best bedroom, Mrs. Liddell's, and the children's rooms. The examination
was swiftly accomplished. Then the sedate lawyer returned to the
dining-room and began to put on his right-hand glove. "I presume," he
said--"it is a mere, formal question--I presume there is no claim or
lien upon your goods and chattels?"
"None whatever. I want a little temporary help until--" She paused.
"My mother has been successful in writing short stories. Channing &
Wyndham have a three-volume novel of hers now, and I am sure they will
take it; then she can pay Mr. Liddell easily."
The lawyer smiled a queer little withered, half-developed smile. "I
trust your anticipations may be verified," he said. "Now, my dear madam,
I need intrude on you no longer; I shall go on to see Mr. Liddell. But
though I shall certainly represent that he may safely make you this
small advance, it is possible he may refuse; and it is certain he will
ask high interest. However, I shall do my best."
"It will be a great accommodation if he consents. And if he is rich
surely he will not deal as hardly with his brother's widow as with a
stranger."
"Where money is concerned, Mr. Liddell recognizes neither friend nor
foe. He will wish some form of the nature of a bill of sale to be
signed."
"Whatever you both think right," said Mrs. Liddell.
Here some shouts from the garden drew Newton's attention to the window,
through which Cecil and Charlie could be seen endeavoring to put some
noxious insect on the neck of the nurse-maid, who had taken them their
noonday slices of bread and butter. "My grandsons," said Mrs. Liddell,
smiling--"My poor boy's orphans."
"Hum!" said the little man; and he stood a moment in thought.
"I think Miss Liddell said her uncle expressed a wish that she should
return to see him?"
"He made me promise to go back to-day."
"Then by no means disappoint him. He is a very difficult man to manage,
and if your daughter"--to Mrs. Liddell--"could contrive to interest him,
to make him indulge in a few of the comforts necessary to his years and
his position, it would be of the last importance, and ultimately, I
hope, not unprofitable to herself."
"I fear the last is highly improbable; but Katherine will certainly
fulfil her promise."
"I am going to drive over to Legrave Crescent myself: if it would suit
Miss Liddell to accompany me, I shall be most happy to be her escort."
"Thank you; I shall be very glad."
"My brother-in-law will not imagine there is any collusion between you?"
asked Mrs. Liddell, with a smile. "Men of his character are suspicious."
"No; I think I may venture so far, though Mr. Liddell _is_ suspicious."
"Then I must ask you to wait while I put on my hat," said Katherine, and
left the room.
She had changed her dress when her mother followed her. "My love, you
had better take a few shillings, and try and come back soon. Why, Katie,
considering you had to do cooking yesterday, you ought not to have put
on your best frock, dear, for I see little chance of another."
"Oh, mother, I could _not_ go out in my old black cashmere with Mr.
Newton. Why, he is the perfection of neatness."
"Here is Ada, just coming in."
"What a volley of questions she will ask! Now, mother, do _not_ satisfy
her. Tell her my rich uncle has sent his solicitor to interview us, and
that I am going to dine with him. I wish I could have had some dinner
before I went, for I am going to Hungry Hall."
"Courage, darling! If we _can_ get this loan it will be a great relief.
Do not keep him waiting any longer--there are your gloves. Come back as
soon as ever you can."