For the third time I landed in England. When I set foot upon its shores
first I was worse than friendless, with foes of my own household
surrounding me; the second time I was utterly alone, in daily terror, in
poverty, with a dreary, life-long future stretching before me. Now every
want of mine was anticipated, every step directed, as if I were a child
again, and my father himself was caring for me. How many friends, good
and tried and true, could I count! All the rough paths were made smooth
for me.
It was dusk before we reached London; but before the train stopped at
the platform, a man's hand was laid upon the carriage-door, and a
handsome face was smiling over it upon us. I scarcely dared look who it
was; but the voice that reached my ears was not Martin Dobrée's.
"I am here in Martin's place," said Dr. John Senior, as soon as he could
make himself heard; "he has been hindered by a wretch of a
patient.--Welcome home, Miss Martineau!"
"She is not Miss Martineau, John," remarked Dr. Senior. There was a
tinge of stateliness about him, bordering upon formality, which had kept
me a little in awe of him all the journey through. His son laughed, with
a pleasant audacity.
"Welcome home. Olivia, then!" he said, clasping my hand warmly. "Martin
and I never call you by any other name."
A carriage was waiting for us, and Dr. John took Minima beside him,
chattering with her as the child loved to chatter. As for me, I felt a
little anxious and uneasy. Once more I was about to enter upon an
entirely new life; upon the untried ways of a wealthy, conventional,
punctilious English household. Hitherto my mode of life had been almost
as wandering and free as that of a gypsy. Even at home, during my
pleasant childhood, our customs had been those of an Australian
sheep-farm, exempt from all the usages of any thing like fashion. Dr.
John's kid gloves, which fitted his hand to perfection, made me
uncomfortable.
I felt still more abashed and oppressed when we reached Dr. Senior's
house, and a footman ran down to the carriage, to open the door and to
carry in my poor little portmanteau. It looked miserably poor and out of
place in the large, brilliantly-lit hall. Minima kept close beside me,
silent, but gazing upon this new abode with wide-open eyes.
Why was not Martin here? He had known me in Sark, in Tardif's cottage,
and he would understand how strange and how unlike home all this was to
me.
A trim maid was summoned to show us to our rooms, and she eyed us with
silent criticism. She conducted us to a large and lofty apartment,
daintily and luxuriously fitted up, with a hundred knick-knacks about
it, of which I could not even guess the use. A smaller room communicated
with it which had been evidently furnished for Minima. The child
squeezed my hand tightly as we gazed into it. I felt as if we were
gypsies, suddenly caught, and caged in a splendid captivity.
"Isn't it awful?" asked Minima, in a whisper; "it frightens me."
It almost frightened me too. I was disconcerted also by my own
reflection in the long mirror before me. A rustic, homely peasant-girl,
with a brown face and rough hands, looked back at me from the shining
surface, wearing a half-Norman dress, for I had not had time to buy more
than a bonnet and shawl as we passed through Falaise. What would Miss
Carey think of me? How should I look in Dr. John's fastidious eyes?
Would not Martin be disappointed and shocked when he saw me again?
I could not make any change in my costume, and the maid carried off
Minima to do what she could with her. There came a gentle knock at my
door, and Miss Carey entered. Here was the fitting personage to dwell in
a house like this. A delicate gray-silk dress, a dainty lace cap, a
perfect self-possession, a dignified presence. My heart sank low. But
she kissed me affectionately, and smiled as I looked anxiously into her
face.
"My dear," she said, "I hope you will like your room. John and Martin
have ransacked London for pretty things for it. See, there is a
painting of Tardifs cottage in Sark. Julia has painted it for you. And
here is a portrait of my dear friend, Martin's mother; he hung it there
himself only this morning. I hope you will soon feel quite at home with
us, Olivia."
Before I could answer, a gong sounded through the house, with a sudden
clang that startled me.
We went down to the drawing-room, where Dr. Senior gave me his arm, and
led me ceremoniously to dinner. At this very hour my dear Monsieur
Laurentie and mademoiselle were taking their simple supper at the little
round table, white as wood could be made by scrubbing, but with no cloth
upon it. My chair and Minima's would be standing back against the wall.
The tears smarted under my eyelids, and I answered at random to the
remarks made to me. How I longed to be alone for a little while, until I
could realize all the change that had come into my life!
We had been in the drawing-room again only a few minutes, when we heard
the hall-door opened, and a voice speaking. By common consent, as it
were, every one fell into silence to listen. I looked up for a moment,
and saw that all three of them had turned their eyes upon me; friendly
eyes they were, but their scrutiny was intolerable. Dr. Senior began to
talk busily with Miss Carey.
"Hush!" cried Minima, who was standing beside Dr. John, "hush! I believe
it is--yes, I am sure it is Dr. Martin!"
She sprang to the door just as it was opened, and flung her arms round
him in a transport of delight. I did not dare to lift my eyes again, to
see them all smiling at me. He could not come at once to speak to me,
while that child was clinging to him and kissing him.
"I'm so glad," she said, almost sobbing; "come and see my auntie, who
was so ill when you were in Ville-en-bois. You did not see her, you
know; but she is quite well now, and very, very rich. We are never going
to be poor again. Come; she is here. Auntie, this is that nice Dr.
Martin, who made me promise not to tell you he was at Ville-en-bois,
while you were so ill."
She dragged him eagerly toward me, and I put my hand in his; but I did
not look at him. That I did some minutes afterward, when he was talking
to Miss Carey. It was many months since I had seen him last in Sark.
There was a great change in his face, and he looked several years older.
It was grave, and almost mournful, as if he did not smile very often,
and his voice was lower in tone than it had been then. Dr. John, who was
standing beside him, was certainly much gayer and handsomer than he was.
He caught my eye, and came back to me, sitting near enough to talk with
me in an undertone.
"Are you satisfied with the arrangements we have made for you?" he
inquired.
"Quite," I said, not daring either to thank him, or to tell him how
oppressed I was by my sudden change. Both of us spoke as quietly, and
with as much outward calm, as if we were in the habit of seeing each
other every day. A chill came across me.
"At one time," he continued, "I asked Johanna to open her home to you;
but that was when I thought you would be safer and happier in a quiet
place like hers than anywhere else. Now you are your own mistress, and
can choose your own residence. But you could not have a better home than
this. It would not be well for you, so young and friendless, to live in
a house of your own."
"No," I said, somewhat sadly.
"Dr. Senior is delighted to have you here," he went on; "you will see
very good society in this house, and that is what you should do. You
ought to see more and better people than you have yet known. Does it
seem strange to you that we have assumed a sort of authority over you
and your affairs? You do not yet know how we have been involved in
them."
"How?" I asked, looking up into his face with a growing curiosity.
"Olivia," he said, "Foster was my patient for some months, and I knew
all his affairs intimately. He had married that person--"
"Married her!" I ejaculated.
"Yes. You want to know how he could do that? Well, he produced two
papers, one a medical certificate of your death, the other a letter
purporting to be from some clergyman. He had, too, a few lines in your
own handwriting, which stated you had sent him your ring, the only
valuable thing left to you, as you had sufficient for your last
necessities. Even I believed for a few hours that you were dead. But I
must tell you all about it another time."
"Did he believe it?" I asked, in a trembling voice.
"I do not know," he answered; "I cannot tell, even now, whether he knew
them to be forgeries or not. But I have no doubt, myself, that they were
forged by Mrs. Foster's brother and his partner, Scott and Brown."
"But for what reason?" I asked again.
"What reason!" he repeated; "you were too rich a prize for them to allow
Foster to risk losing any part of his claim upon you, if he found you.
You and all you had were his property on certain defined conditions. You
do not understand our marriage laws; it is as well for you not to
understand them. Mrs. Foster gave up to me to-day all his papers, and
the letters and credentials from your trustees in Melbourne to your
bankers here. There will be very little trouble for you now. Thank God!
all your life lies clear and fair before you."
I had still many questions to ask, but my lips trembled so much that I
could not speak readily. He was himself silent, probably because he also
had so much to say. All the others were sitting a little apart from us
at a chess-table, where Dr. Senior and Miss Carey were playing, while
Dr. John sat by holding Minima in his arm, though she was gazing
wistfully across to Martin and me.
"You are tired, Olivia," said Martin, after a time, "tired and sad. Your
eyes are full of tears. I must be your doctor again for this evening,
and send you to bed at once. It is eleven o'clock already; but these
people will sit up till after midnight. You need not say good-night to
them.--Minima, come here."
She did not wait for a second word, or a louder summons; but she slipped
under Dr. John's arm, and rushed across to us, being caught by Martin
before she could throw herself upon me. He sat still, talking to her for
a few minutes, and listening to her account of our journey, and how
frightened we were at the grandeur about us. His face lit up with a
smile as his eyes fell upon me, as if for the first time he noticed how
out of keeping I was with the place. Then he led us quietly away, and
up-stairs to my bedroom-door.
"Good-night, Olivia," he said; "sleep soundly, both of you, for you are
at home. I will send one of the maids up to you."
"No, no," I cried hastily, "they despise us already."
"Ah!" he said, "to-night you are the Olivia I knew first, in Sark. In a
week's time I shall find you a fine lady."