'WHY NOT TRUST ME, MAX?'
Max looked very discomposed when he saw Miss Hamilton; he shook hands
with her gravely, and sat down without saying a word. I wondered if it
were my fancy, or if Miss Hamilton had really grown perceptibly paler
since his entrance.
'What does this mean, Uncle Max?' I asked gaily, for this sort of
oppressive silence did not suit me at all. 'I understood that you and
Mr. Tudor were dining at the Glynns' to-night.'
'Lawrence has gone without me,' he replied. 'I had a headache, and so I
sent an excuse; but, as it got better, I thought I would come up and see
how you were getting on.'
'A headache, Uncle Max!' looking at him rather anxiously, for I had never
heard him complain of any ailment before. I had been dissatisfied with
his appearance ever since I had come to Heathfield; he had looked worn
and thin for some time, but to-night he looked wretched.
'Oh, it is nothing,' he returned quickly. 'Miss Hamilton, I hardly
expected to find you here with Ursula. I thought you were all going
to the Maberleys'.'
'Etta and Giles have gone,' she replied quietly. 'I ought not to be here,
as Lady Betty is alone at Gladwyn; but Miss Garston persuaded me to
remain; but it is getting late. I must be going,' rising as she spoke.
'There is not the slightest need for you to hurry,' observed Max; 'it is
not so very late, and I will walk up with you to Gladwyn.'
'Indeed, I hope you will do nothing of the kind,' she said hurriedly.
'Miss Garston, will you please tell him that there is no need, no need
at all? indeed, I would much rather not.'
Miss Hamilton had lost all her repose of manner; she looked as nervous
and shy as any school-girl when Max announced his intention of escorting
her; and yet how could any gentleman have allowed her to go down those
dark roads alone?
Perhaps Max thought she was unreasonable, for there was a touch of satire
in his voice as he answered her:
'I certainly owe it to my conscience to see you safe home. What would
Hamilton say if I allowed you to go alone?--Ursula,' turning to me with
an odd look, 'it is a fine starlight night; suppose you put on your
hat,--a run will do you good,--and relieve Miss Hamilton's mind.'
'Yes, do come,' observed Miss Hamilton, in a relieved voice; but, as she
spoke, her lovely eyes seemed appealing to him, and begging him not to be
angry with her; but he frowned slightly, and turned aside and took up a
book. How was it those two contrived to misunderstand each other so
often? Max looked even more hurt than he had done at Gladwyn.
I was not surprised to find that when I left the room Miss Hamilton
followed me, but I was hardly prepared to hear her say in a troubled
voice,--
'Oh, how unfortunate I am! I would not have had this happen for worlds.
Etta will--oh, what am I saying?--I am afraid Mr. Cunliffe is offended
with me because I did not wish him to go home with me--but,' a little
proudly and resentfully, 'he is too old a friend to misunderstand me, so
he need not have said that.'
'I think Uncle Max is not well to-night,' I replied soothingly. 'I never
heard him speak in that tone before; he is always so careful not to hurt
people's feelings.'
'Yes, I know,' stifling a sigh; 'it is more my fault than his; he is
looking wretchedly ill; and--and I think he is a little offended with me
about other things; it is impossible to explain, and so he misjudges me.'
'Why do you not try to make things a little clearer?' I asked. 'Could you
not say a word to him as we walk home? Uncle Max is so good that I cannot
bear him to be vexed about anything, and I know he is disappointed that
you will not work in the school.'
'Yes, I know; but you do not understand,' she returned gently. 'I should
like to speak to him, if I dared, but I think my courage will fail; it is
not so easy as you think.' And then as we went downstairs she took my
arm, and I could feel that her hand was very cold. 'I wish he had not
asked you to come: it shows he is hurt with me; but all the same I should
have asked you myself.'
Uncle Max took up his felt hat directly he saw us, and followed us
silently into the entry; he did not speak as we went down the little
garden together; and as we turned into the road leading to the vicarage
it was Miss Hamilton who spoke first. She was still holding my arm,
perhaps that gave her courage, and she looked across at Max, who was
walking on my other side.
'Mr. Cunliffe, I am so sorry you were hurt with me the other night,
when Etta spoke about the schools. I am not giving up work for my own
pleasure; I loved it far too much; but there are reasons,'
I heard Max give a quick, impatient sigh in the darkness.
'So you always say, Miss Hamilton; you remember we have talked of this
before. I have thought it my duty more than once to remonstrate with you
about giving up your work, but one seems to talk in the dark; somehow you
have never given me any very definite reasons,--headaches,--well, as
though I did not know you well enough to be sure you are the last person
to think of ailments.'
'Yes, but one's friends are over-careful; but still you are right; it is
not only that. Mr. Cunliffe, I wish you would believe that I have good
and sufficient reasons for what I do, even if I cannot explain them. It
makes one unhappy to be misunderstood by one's clergyman, and,'
hesitating a moment, 'and one's friends,'
'Friends are not left so completely in the dark,' was the pointed answer.
'It is no use, Miss Hamilton. I find it impossible to understand you. I
have no right to be hurt. No, of course not, no right at all,'--and here
Max laughed unsteadily,--'but still, as a clergyman, I thought it could
not be wrong to remonstrate when my best worker deserted her post.'
There was no response to this, only Miss Hamilton's hand lay a little
heavily on my arm, as though she were tired. I though it best to be
silent. No word of mine was needed. I could tell from Max's voice and
manner how bitterly he was hurt.
But when he next spoke it was on a different subject.
'I must beg your pardon, Miss Hamilton, for having wronged you in my
thoughts about something else. I find your brother has forbidden you to
attend evening service for the present. And no doubt he is right; but
your cousin gave me to understand that you stayed away for a very
different reason.'
'What did Etta tell you?' she asked quickly. But before he could answer
a dark figure seemed to emerge rather suddenly from the roadside. Miss
Hamilton dropped my arm at once. 'Is that you, Leah? Have my brother and
Miss Darrell returned from Maplehurst?' And I detected an anxious note
in her voice.
'Yes, ma'am,' returned Leah civilly; 'and Miss Darrell seemed anxious at
your being out so late, because you would take cold, and master begged
you would wrap up and walk very fast.'
'Oh, I shall take no harm,' returned Miss Hamilton impatiently.
'Good-night, Miss Garston, and thank you for a very happy evening.
Good-night, Mr. Cunliffe, and thank you, too. There is no need to come
any farther: Leah will take care of me.' And she waved her hand and moved
away in the darkness.
'What a bugbear that woman is!' I observed, rather irritably, as we
retraced our steps in the direction of the Man and Plough, the little inn
that stood at the junction of the four roads. Everything looked dark and
eerie in the faint starlight. Our footsteps seemed to strike sharply
against the hard, white road; there was a suspicion of frost in the air.
When Max spoke, which was not for some minutes, he merely remarked that
we should have a cold Christmas, and then he asked me if I would dine
with him at the vicarage on Christmas Day. He and Mr. Tudor would be
alone.
'Christmas will be here in less than a fortnight, Ursula,' he went on,
rather absently, but I knew he was not thinking of what he was saying.
And when we reached the White Cottage he followed me into the parlour,
sat down before the fire, and stretched out his hands to the blaze, as
though he were very cold.
I stood and watched him for a moment, and then I could bear it no longer.
'Oh, Max!' I exclaimed, 'I wish you would tell me what makes you look so
wretchedly ill to-night. Even Miss Hamilton noticed it. I am sure there
is something the matter.'
'Nonsense, child! What should be the matter?' But Max turned his face
away as he spoke. 'I told you that I had a headache; but that is nothing
to make a fuss about. Mrs. Drabble shall make me a good strong cup of tea
when I get home.'
Max's manner was just a trifle testy, but I was not going to be repelled
after this fashion. On the contrary, I put my hand on his shoulder and
obliged him to look at me.
'It is not only a headache. You are unhappy about something; as though
I do not see that. Max, you know we have always been like brother and
sister, and I want you to tell me what has grieved you.'
That touched him, as I knew it would, for he had dearly loved his sister.
'I wish your mother were here now,' he returned, in a moved voice. 'I
wish poor Emmie were here: there were not many women like her. One could
have trusted her with anything.'
'I think I am to be trusted too, Max.'
'Yes, yes, you are like her, Ursula. You have got just the same quiet
way. Your voice always reminds me of hers. She was a dear, good sister
to me, more like a mother than a sister. I think if she had lived she
would have been a great comfort to me now, Ursula.'
'I know I am not so good as my mother, but I should like to be a comfort
to you in her place.'
I suppose Max's ear detected the suppressed pain in my voice, for as he
looked at me his manner changed; the old affectionate smile came to his
lips, and he put his hands lightly on me, as though to keep me near him.
'You have been a comfort to me, my dear. You and I have always understood
each other. I think you are as good as gold, Ursula.'
'Then why not trust me, Max? Why not tell me what makes you so unhappy?'
'Little she-bear,' he said, still smiling, 'you must not begin to growl
at me after this fashion, because I am somewhat hipped and want a change.
There is no need to be anxious about me. A man in my position must have
his own and other people's difficulties to bear. No, no, my dear, you
have a wise head, but you are too young to take my burdens on your
shoulders. What should you know about an old bachelor's worries?'
'An old bachelor,' I returned indignantly, 'when you know you are young
and handsome, Max! How can you talk such nonsense?'
I could see he was amused at this.
'You must not expect me to believe that; a man is no judge of his own
looks: but I never thought much about such things myself. I detest the
notion of a handsome parson. There, we will dismiss the subject of your
humble servant. I want to ask you a favour, Ursula.' And then I knew that
all my coaxing had been in vain, and that he did not mean to tell me what
troubled him and made him look so pinched and worn.
But, in spite of this preface, he kept me waiting for a long time, while
he sat silently looking into the fire and stroking his brown beard.
'Ursula,' he began at last, still gazing into the red cavern of coals, as
though he saw visions there, 'I want you and Miss Hamilton to be great
friends. I am sure that she has taken to you, and she likes few people,
and it will be very good for her to be with you.'
Max's speech took me somewhat by surprise. I had not expected him to
mention Miss Hamilton's name.
'She is not happy,' he went on, 'and she is more lonely than other
girls of her age. Miss Elizabeth is a nice bright little thing, but,
as Lawrence says, she wants ballast; she is a child compared to
Gladys,--Miss Hamilton, I mean.' And here Max stammered a little
nervously.
'No, you are right, she is not happy,' I returned quietly; 'she gives me
the impression that she has known some great trouble.'
'Every one has his troubles,' he replied evasively. 'Most people indulge
in the luxury of a private skeleton. Now I have often thought that Miss
Hamilton and her sister would have been far happier without Miss Darrell;
she has rather a peculiar temper, and I have often fancied that she has
misrepresented things. It is always difficult to understand women, even
the best of them,' with a smothered sigh, 'but I confess Miss Darrell is
rather a problem to me.'
'I am not surprised to hear you say that,' I returned quickly: 'you are
just the sort of man, Max, to be hoodwinked by any designing person. I am
less charitable than you, and women are sharper in these matters. I have
already found out that Miss Darrell makes Miss Hamilton miserable.'
'Gently, gently, Ursula,' in quite a shocked voice; 'there is no need to
put things quite so strongly: you are rather hasty, my dear. Miss Darrell
may be a little too managing, and perhaps jealous and exacting; but I
think she is very fond of her cousins.'
'Indeed!' rather drily, for I did not agree with Max in the least; he was
always ready to believe the best of every one.
'Hamilton, too, is really devoted to his sisters, but they do not
understand him. I believe Miss Hamilton is very proud of her brother, but
she does not confide in him. He has often told me, in quite a pained way,
how reserved they are with him. I believe Miss Darrell is far more his
_confidante_ than his sisters.'
'No doubt,' I returned, quite convinced in my own mind that this was the
case.
'So you must see yourself how much Miss Hamilton needs a friend,' he went
on hurriedly. 'I want you to be very good to her, Ursula; perhaps you may
think it a little strange if I say that I think it will be as much your
duty to befriend Miss Hamilton as to minister to Phoebe Locke.'
'I wonder who is speaking strongly now, Max.'
'But if it be the truth,' he pleaded, a little anxiously.
'You need not fear,' was my answer: 'if Miss Hamilton requires my
friendship, I am very willing to bestow it. I will be as good to her as
I know how to be, Max. Is it likely I should refuse the first favour you
have ever asked me?' And, as he thanked me rather gravely, I felt that he
was very much in earnest about this. He went away after this, but I think
I had succeeded in cheering him, for he looked more like himself as he
bade me good-night; but after he had gone I sat for a long time,
reflecting over our talk.
I felt perplexed and a little saddened by what had passed. Max had not
denied that he was unhappy, but he had refused to confide in me. Was his
unhappiness connected in any way with Miss Hamilton? This question
baffled me; it was impossible for me to answer it.
I could not understand his manner to her. He was perfectly kind and
gentle to her, as he was to all women, but he was also reserved and
distant; in spite of their long acquaintance, for he had visited at
Gladwyn for years, there was no familiarity between them. Miss Hamilton,
on her part, seemed to avoid him, and yet I was sure she both respected
and liked him. There was some strange barrier between them that hindered
all free communication. Max was certainly not like himself when Miss
Hamilton was present; and on her side she seemed to freeze and become
unapproachable the moment he appeared. But this was not the only thing
that perplexed me. The whole atmosphere of Gladwyn was oppressive. I had
a subtile feeling of discomfort whenever Miss Darrell was in the room;
her voice seemed to have a curious magnetic effect on one; its tuneless
vibrations seemed to irritate me; if she spoke loudly, her voice was
rather shrill and unpleasant. She knew this, and carefully modulated it.
I used to wonder over its smoothness and fluency.
And there was another thing that struck me. Mr. Hamilton seemed fond of
his step-sisters, but he treated them with reserve; the frank jokes that
pass between brothers and sisters, the pleasant raillery, the blunt
speeches, the interchange of confidential looks, were missing in the
family circle at Gladwyn. Mr. Hamilton behaved with old-fashioned
courtesy to his sisters; he was watchful over their comfort, but he was
certainly a little stiff and constrained in his manner to them: he seemed
to unbend more freely to his cousin than to them; he had scolded her
good-humouredly once or twice, after quite a brotherly fashion, and she
had taken his rebukes in a way that showed they understood each other.
I grew tired at last of trying to adjust my ideas on the subject of the
Hamilton family. I was rather provoked to find how they had begun to
absorb my interest. 'Never mind, I have promised Uncle Max to be good to
her,' was my last waking thought that night, 'and I am determined to keep
my word.' And I fell asleep, and dreamt that I was trying to save Miss
Hamilton from drowning, and that all the time Miss Darrell was standing
on the shore, laughing and pelting us with stones, and when a larger one
than usual struck me, I awoke.
I wondered if it were accident or design that brought Miss Darrell across
my path the next day. I had just left the Lockes' cottage, feeling
somewhat tired and depressed: Phoebe had been in one of her contrary
moods, and had given me a good deal of trouble, but the evil spirit had
been quieted at last, and I had taken my leave after reprimanding her
severely for her rudeness. I was just closing the garden gate, when Miss
Darrell came up to me in the dusk, holding out her hand with her tingling
little laugh.
'How odd that we should have met just here! I hardly knew you, Miss
Garston, in that long cloak, you looked so like a Sister of Charity.
I think you are very wise to adopt a uniform.'
'Thank you, but I have hardly adopted one,' I returned, folding the fur
edges of my cloak closer to me, for it was a bitterly cold evening. 'Are
you going home, Miss Darrell? because you have passed the turning that
leads to Gladwyn.'
'Oh, I do not mind a longer round,' was the careless answer. 'I am very
hardy, and a walk never hurts me. If it were Gladys, now--by the bye,
have you seen my cousin Giles to-day?'
'No,' I returned, wondering a little at her question.
'You are lucky to have escaped him,' with another laugh. 'Dear, dear,
how angry Giles was last night, to be sure, when we came home and found
Gladys out! he was far too angry to say much to her; he only asked her if
she had taken leave of her senses, and that some people--I do not know
whom he meant--ought to be ashamed of themselves.'
'Indeed!' somewhat sarcastically, for I confess this speech made me feel
rather cross. I wondered if Mr. Hamilton could really have said it. I
determined that I would ask him on the first opportunity.
'It was a very injudicious proceeding,' went on Miss Darrell smoothly.
'Gladys was to blame, of course; but still, if you remember, I told you
how delicate she was, and how we dreaded night air for her: young people
are so careless of their health, but of course, as Giles said, we thought
she would be safe with you. You see, Giles looks upon you in the
character of nurse, Miss Garston, and forgets you are young too. "Depend
upon it, they have forgotten the time," I said to him: "when two girls
are chattering their secrets to each other, they are not likely to
remember anything so sublunary." You should have seen Giles's expression
of lordly disgust when I said that.'
'I should rather have heard Mr. Hamilton's answer.'
'Don't be too sure of that,' returned Miss Darrell, in a mocking voice
that somehow recalled my dream. 'I am afraid it would not please you.
Giles is no flatterer. He said he thought you would have been far too
sensible for that sort of nonsense, but that one never knew, and that it
was not only young and pretty girls like Gladys who could be romantic,
and for all your staid looks you were not Methuselah: rather a dubious
speech, Miss Garston.'
'True!' far too dubious to be entirely palatable to my feminine pride;
but I was careful not to hint this to Miss Darrell, and she went on in
the same light jesting way.
'It is terribly hard to satisfy Giles, he is so critical; he sets
impossible standards for people, and then sneers if they do not reach
them. He had conceived rather a high opinion of you, Miss Garston. He
told me one day that he would be glad for you to be intimate with his
sisters, as they would only learn good from you, and that he hoped that
I would encourage your visits. I trust that he has not changed his
opinion since then; but Giles is so odd when people disappoint him. I
said last night that we would invite you for to-morrow, and then you
and Gladys could finish your talk; but he was as cross as possible, and
begged that I would invite no one for Thursday, as he was very busy, and
Gladys must find another opportunity for her talk. There, how I am
chattering on!--and perhaps I ought not to have said all that; but I
thought you would wonder at our want of neighbourliness, and of course we
cannot expect you to understand Giles's odd temper: it is a great pity
he has got this idea in his head.'
'What idea, Miss Darrell?'
'Dear, dear, how sharp you are! how you take me up! Of course it is only
Giles's ill temper: he cannot really think you wanting in ballast.'
'Oh, I understand now. Please go on.'
'But I have no more to say,' rather bewildered by my abruptness. 'Of
course we shall see you soon, when all this has blown over. If you like,
I will tell Giles I have seen you.'
'Please tell Mr. Hamilton nothing. I will speak to him myself.
Good-night, Miss Darrell; I am rather cold and tired after my day's work.
I do not in the least expect that Miss Hamilton has taken any harm.' And
I made my escape. I do not know what Miss Darrell thought of me, but she
walked on rather thoughtfully; as for me, I felt tingling all over with
irritation. If Mr. Hamilton had dared to imply these things of me, I
should hardly be able to keep my promise to Uncle Max, for I would
certainly decline to visit at Gladwyn.