When Mr Farrell's guests assembled for dinner, on their return from the
garden-party, it was at once evident that the old gentleman was in one
of his difficult moods. From the beginning he had affected to
disapprove of Mrs Thornton's extravagance in attempting to entertain on
so large a scale, while sedulously keeping himself informed as to every
detail of the preparations. The anonymous present of fruit had
furnished him with a subject for much satirical comment, as had also the
girls' endeavours to beautify the house and grounds.
Now he found a fresh grievance in the fact that dinner was delayed a few
minutes past its usual hour, and that the young people appeared
depressed, rather than elated by their experiences. Ruth's plea of a
headache was justified by her wan looks; Jack was moody, and even Victor
was for once silent and distrait. It was left to Mollie to stem the
tide, and she raised herself nobly to the effort, albeit her own heart
was none too light.
"It went off beautifully, Uncle Bernard! Shall I tell you all about it
from the beginning?" she cried, smiling at his grim visage across the
dinner-table; and when he declared his lack of interest in the whole
concern, she smiled again, and refused to be convinced. "Oh, but you
must hear, because in a kind of way it was your party, as you are the
patron, and give them all that they have... There were such crowds of
people, and they looked so gay. Old Lady Everett wore a magenta satin,
quite the most awful garment I ever beheld, and she got hot, poor dear,
and it matched her face. And such an awkward thing happened; she
brought a little basket with a few under-sized grapes, about a pound,
perhaps, and presented them to Mrs Thornton with such an air of
munificence, and then turned round and saw the table spread with all
that exquisite fruit! She was quite angry even when Mrs Thornton
explained that it also was a gift."
"Why need she have explained at all? No other woman would have thought
of doing so. Why should a clergyman's wife be expected to explain her
private affairs to any inquisitive stranger? Surely it is her own
business what she puts on her own table?" This from Jack, in a burst of
querulous impatience which brought his host's eyes upon him with an
answering flash.
"If a woman in a public position provides what is obviously unsuited to
her means, the least she can do is to offer an explanation. A
clergyman's means do not run to expensive entertainments."
"Exactly; yet he is expected to entertain, and to humble his pride to do
it in an inferior style to his neighbours. And his wife is expected to
accept paltry gifts from her neighbours which another woman in her
position would look upon as an insult, and to be thankful for the
chance. I suppose she often is thankful, poor creature, as she has not
the means of providing properly for herself."
Mr Farrell put down his knife and fork, and, leaning back in his seat,
stared fixedly in Jack's face. His thin lips worked, and his eyes
gleamed ominously.
"May I ask if you are speaking in general terms, or individually of the
clergyman's wife in my own parish?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders.
"Oh, I suppose she would be included, since her husband's income is
insufficient for her needs."
"You are aware, of course, that I am responsible for that income?"
"I suppose so--in a way, since the living is in your gift."
"And what grounds may you have for considering it insufficient?"
Jack burst into a short laugh, undeterred by the appealing glances cast
upon him by three frightened feminine listeners.
"What grounds? Why, the house is an advertisement of shabbiness; the
vicar's coat is green with age, and the poor little kiddies look as if
they had come out of the ark! Mrs Thornton has pluck enough for a
dozen, or she would never keep things going as she does; but she looks
an old woman before her time."
"Then it is your deliberate conclusion that I ought to increase the
Vicar's stipend?"
Under cover of the tablecloth a little hand stole along and laid a
gentle pressure on Jack's arm. He turned and met Mollie's eyes, grave
and appealing, with no trace of the frivolity of which he had complained
earlier in the day, and, at the sight, his irritation died a sudden
death. Mollie must indeed have forgiven him when she condescended to so
sweet an intimacy. The rush of joy which accompanied the thought put
him at once at peace with all men.
"The labourer is worthy of his hire, sir," he answered quietly. "I call
Thornton a rattling good fellow, and I should like to see him relieved
of monetary troubles. It's hard lines to expect a man to be an example
of all the virtues when he is constantly wondering how to make both ends
meet. I don't set much store on money, as you know, but I should enjoy
being in the position to do a good turn to a man like that."
Mr Farrell's sunken eyes gave forth a malicious gleam.
"You speak with feeling. Perhaps you have been enjoying a foretaste of
the experience. Surely you must be the generous Unknown who contributed
the hamper of fruit of which we have heard so much during the last few
days!"
There was a simultaneous gasp of surprise round the table, and everyone
turned to stare with curious eyes at Jack's scarlet face. Scarlet, with
an embarrassment which plainly proved the truth of the accusation; with
anger, too, and thwarted self-will. His nostrils inflated in the old
haughty manner, as he replied coldly--
"I thought we were discussing Mr Thornton's income! I fail to see what
the hamper has to do with the case."
Mr Farrell gave the short, staccato sound which did service for a
laugh.
"Your pardon! It is to me a very interesting sidelight. I am indebted
to you for stepping in to make up for my deficiencies."
"It was very kind of you, Mr Melland--very, very kind! You don't know
how much pleasure it gave. I envy you for having had such a nice
thought," said Ruth earnestly. For a wonder Mollie was silent, while
Victor shrugged his shoulders, and cried, between a sneer and a laugh--
"You are a sly dog, Melland. I had no idea that you were such a devoted
admirer of the redoubtable Mrs Thornton."
The sneer brought Jack to his bearings in a moment. Every trace of
embarrassment disappeared as he faced Victor across the table, wide-eyed
and defiant.
"It is the truth, none the less. I admire Mrs Thornton immensely. She
is a capital little woman, and fights the odds like a Spartan. This
garden-party business was a great event in her life, and she prepared
for it by a series of make-shifts. I got sick of hearing about them.
Poor little soul, why shouldn't she be able to do the thing decently
once in a while? She's been very kind to us; it was little enough to do
in return."
"Oh, well, everything is comparative. You must be pretty flush to send
about hampers of that description. I have never tasted finer fruit. I
am sorry that such generosity is beyond my means," said Victor, whereat
Jack scowled all the more.
"You would have spent as much on your lunches and teas if you had been
in town these last weeks. What is the use of money if you can't be
reckless once in a way? I am sorry that this subject has come up; but,
as it has, I must ask you all to be good enough not to speak of it to
Mrs Thornton. She would gush, and I loathe gush. The secret is my
own, not yours, so you must please respect my wishes."
Once more Ruth came to the rescue.
"Of course, we will keep your secret. We have no right to tell without
your consent," she said decisively.
Her grey eyes smiled at him across the table with a wistful sweetness.
This man, at least, was true and honest. Quick-tempered he might be,
self-willed and impatient, but one could never imagine Jack Melland
playing a double part, nor selling his soul for greed. And yet--and
yet, one glance from Victor's eyes had power to affect her as Jack
Melland's most earnest effort could never do; and Uncle Bernard, sharp-
sighted as he was, treated Jack with far less confidence and favour.
"But I was never sure of him all the time, except for those few hours
yesterday," she thought. "I _felt_ there was something behind. When
Dr Maclure spoke to me that afternoon I knew that he meant all, and
more than all, that he said; but it is not easy to make the imitation
like the real thing. The moment I heard him speak to Margot I knew the
difference--oh, such a difference! I shall never be deceived again."
She sat trifling with her fruit, unheeding the conversation around her,
yet dimly conscious that a passage-at-arms was still being carried on
between Mr Farrell and Jack; the former indulging in caustic remarks at
the young man's expense, Jack replying with more or less irritation.
A sudden gleam of excitement on Victor's face recalled her wandering
thoughts, in time to hear Jack reply quickly--
"You are quite right, I am an invalid no longer. I walked about most of
the afternoon and feel none the worse. I can manage even the stairs
with a little help. In another few days I shall be ready for work.
There will then be no need for me any longer to trespass--"
Suddenly he stopped; and though Mr Farrell sat waiting in silence for
several moments, he did not attempt to finish the sentence; for another
gentle pressure on the elbow had reminded him of the wisdom of self-
control. He sat with downcast eyes and firmly shut lips until Mr
Farrell's mocking voice broke the silence.
"Since Mr Melland has nothing more to say, it would perhaps be as well
if we made a move. I will ask you to excuse me for the rest of the
evening, as I am feeling fatigued."
He rose as he spoke and turned towards the door, but even as he did so
he staggered, and uttered an exclamation of pain. Mrs Wolff echoed the
cry and sank back in her chair helpless and unnerved; but in an instant
Victor was at his side, supporting him with a strong, steady arm.
"Send for James," he said, addressing the butler in the quiet tones of
one who knows how to keep his head in an emergency. "Let me help you
into the hall, sir; you will have more air there. Lean upon me!"
They moved slowly forward together, the bowed figure seeming momentarily
to shrink in stature, while the glimpse of cheek, as he turned towards
the door, was so ashen in colour that the girls clasped each other's
hands in dismay. Then James appeared, alert, composed, capable, a
carrying-chair was brought forward from some secret hiding-place, and
the invalid was borne upstairs to his room.
"It's one of his `turns,' miss," the butler explained to Ruth. "He used
to have them constantly, but it's the first since you came. We'll send
down for the doctor, and he'll probably stay all night. You can never
tell how things may go!"
Jack Melland limped off towards the deserted smoking-room. Five minutes
before, as he sat resolutely silent, he had determined to go to Mr
Farrell as he sat in the library that evening, and, in the quiet of a
_tete-a-tete_, announce his determination to leave the Court before the
week was out; but now, once again, circumstances conspired against him.
There was a greater question at stake than his own miserable comings or
goings, for the shadow of death hovered over the Court, and none could
tell what the morning might bring forth.