THE VISITOR
"I do hope as I don't intrude," said Mrs. Wright, passing her
handkerchief over her shining forehead. "I didn't mean to take the
liberty of calling, Mrs. Bolton, but your husband met my Tom the other
day, and something he let fall made me think p'raps you'd be finding it
a bit lonely; so I thought I'd come up on the chance."
"It was very kind of you," Maud said.
She sat with her visitor in the little dark front room in which Jake
kept his business books, his whips, and all the paraphernalia of his
calling. It was a bare, office-like apartment, and reeked horribly of
Jake's tobacco; but Bunny was lying in the parlour and he had
strenuously set his face against admitting the worthy Mrs. Wright there.
It was extremely cold, and Maud felt pinched and inhospitable. The
grate was full of shavings, the whole place was cheerless and forlorn.
It was a room that she scarcely ever entered, regarding it in fact more
as Jake's office than an alternative sitting-room.
Mrs. Wright, however, stout, red, comfortable, did not feel the cold.
She sat with her umbrella propped against her chair and regarded her
stiff young hostess with much geniality on her homely face.
"You do look like a princess in a cottage, my dear, if you'll allow me
to say so," she said. "And how are you getting on? I hope Jake's a
good husband to you. I feel sure he would be. He's such an honest
fellow. I often says to Tom, 'Give me a plain honest man like Jake
Bolton,' I says; 'he's a man in a thousand.' I'm sure you think so
yourself, Mrs. Bolton."
Maud, not knowing quite what to say, replied with reserve that she had
no doubt he was. She was wondering if she could possibly offer Mrs.
Wright tea in that dreadful little room of Jake's and if she would ever
get rid of her if she didn't.
Mrs. Wright, serenely unconscious of the troublous question vexing her
soul, went comfortably on. "I've often thought that if it had pleased
the Almighty to send me a daughter, Jake's just the man I would have
chosen for her. I like them eyes of his. They're so straight. But mind
you, I think he has a temper of his own. Mayhap you've never met with
it yet?"
She looked at Maud slyly out of merry little slits of eyes, and chuckled
at the flush that rose in the girl's face.
"He certainly never loses it in my presence," Maud said stiffly.
Mrs. Wright's chuckle became a laugh. "Lor', my dear, you needn't be
shy with me. He worships you; now, don't he? I saw that the first time
I laid eyes on you. That was when you was waiting for him to come and
take you in to supper, and my Tom came first. I said to myself then,
'Ah, Jake, young man, it's plain to see where your fancy lies.' And I
laughed to myself," said Mrs. Wright, still chuckling. "For I couldn't
help thinking he was ambitious to lift his eyes to a real lady. Not
that in my opinion a man who is a man isn't good enough for any woman,
and I'm sure you think the same. And then, you know, he's that fond of
children, is Jake. The wonder to my mind is not that he's married now,
but that he stayed single so long."
"He is very fond of my young brother," Maud observed.
"Ah! Is he now? The poor little lad is a cripple, isn't he? Many's
the time I've watched you go by my shop-window. It's the wool shop at
the corner of East Street with one window that looks over the sea. I
used to wish you'd drop in to buy something, my dear; but you never did.
P'raps now you'll manage to find your way round there some day."
"Thank you," Maud said. "But I so seldom go anywhere. My brother takes
up all my time."
Mrs. Wright's rubicund face took a look of disappointment, but she still
smiled; it was a face that lent itself to smiles. "It isn't to be
expected that he'd want to come," she said. "But I'd be very pleased to
see you both any time. What a good sister you are to him, my dear! I
hope as he appreciates you."
Maud's heart smote her suddenly. She realized that she had been
ungracious. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Wright," she said, with more of
cordiality than she had yet shown. "I will try to run in some day."
Mrs. Wright looked enchanted on the instant. "My dear, I'd be
delighted! Come any time of day, just when it suits you! Tom and me,
we live alone now. He's such a good son. He keeps a hair-dresser's
saloon, you know, at the side of the shop. That's how we come to know
Mr. Bolton. He comes as regular as possible every third week to have
his hair cut. Such a head of hair it is--hair such as a woman would
give her eyes for. It's to be hoped he'll get a little daughter some
day, as'll take after him. Your eyes and his hair--wouldn't she be a
picture!"
Maud's geniality passed like a light extinguished. She became
statuesque. "How soon the light goes!" she said, with a glance towards
the darkening window.
"Yes; don't it?" said Mrs. Wright.
There fell a silence most unusual with Mrs. Wright. With an effort Maud
dispelled it.
"We are very much interested in the horses. You heard of the Mascot's
victory at Graydown?"
Mrs. Wright came out of her silence, shook herself together, as it were,
and smiled again. "Now, isn't that nice for Jake? He's that wrapped up
in the animals, and to have you interested in 'em too! Now I should be
jealous of 'em if it was me!"
It was at this point that Jake himself threw open the door and entered,
stopping short within the room in surprise to find it occupied.
Mrs. Wright laughed aloud. "There, now! You didn't expect to find me
in possession, did you? How de do, Jake? What's happened to your
head?"
Jake advanced with extended hand. "Hullo, it's Mother Wright!" he said,
and to Maud's amazement stooped and kissed her. "If this isn't a real
pleasure! But what are you doing in here? My head made a hole in the
road coming home from the races the other night, and it is still too
sore a subject for discussion."
"Now--now, Jake!" protested Mrs. Wright.
"Fact!" he assured her, with the candid smile that Maud had seen but
little of late. "But now what are you doing in here, I want to know?
This place is like a vault. Come along into the parlour and have some
tea!"
He had not so much as glanced at Maud; she spoke suddenly, with nervous
haste. "Bunny is in the parlour, Jake. He may be dozing."
"We'll soon wake him up," said Jake,
He drew Mrs. Wright's tightly-gloved hand through his arm and turned to
the door. But she held him back, laughing.
"Jake! Jake! You've forgotten something."
"What's that?" said Jake.
She told him amid many fat chuckles. "Why, you've kissed me, and you
haven't kissed your wife. Come, now, that's not right, and you but just
married. I know you're wanting to, so don't be shy! I've been a bride
myself, and I know all about it."
She would have withdrawn her hand from Jake's arm, but he would not
suffer it.
"No, no!" he said, with a careless laugh. "We don't do our kissing in
public. Guess it isn't a genial enough atmosphere either. Come along,
Mother! You'll perish in here."
He led her from the room, still without glancing in Maud's direction,
and drew her along the narrow passage to the door of the parlour.
Maud followed with a stateliness that veiled a burning embarrassment.
She listened for Bunny's voice at the opening of the door, and instantly
heard it raised in cracked remonstrance.
"Here, I say! Don't bring anyone in here! Oh, it's you, Jake! I
thought it was Maud. I thought----"
His voice suddenly ended in what she felt to be the silence of disgust,
and Jake's accents very measured, very determined, took up the tale.
"This is my young brother-in-law, Mrs. Wright, Sir Bernard Brian,
commonly called Bunny. Well, Bunny, my lad, I've brought you a visitor
to tea."
Bunny growled an inarticulate response, and Mrs. Wright covered all
deficiencies with her cheery chuckle.
"So nice to see you so cosy and comfortable, my dear. I hope as I'm not
intruding too much. Do you know, Jake, I don't think I'd better stop to
tea? It's getting dark, and Tom'll be wondering."
"Let him wonder!" said Jake. "I'll see you home all in good time. You
know you always have tea when you come to see me. It's seldom enough
you come too. Maud," for the first time he addressed her directly, and
in his voice was a new note of authority such as she had never heard
before, "order the tea, will you? We will have it at once."
It was a distinct command. Maud's delicate neck stiffened
instinctively. She crossed the room in silence, and rang the bell.
The summons was answered with unusual promptitude by Mrs. Lovelace, who
entered with the supper-cloth on her arm and was greeted by the visitor
with much joviality.
"How is it I never see you round our way, Sarah? Have you quite
forgotten your old friends?"
"Not at all, Mrs. Wright, ma'am," said Mrs. Lovelace, dexterously
flinging her cloth over the table. "But I've been a bit busy, you see,
what with one thing and another, and me time's been occupied."
"What on earth are you spreading that cloth for?" here broke in Bunny,
in irritable astonishment. "We never have that for tea."
Mrs. Lovelace looked at him with dignity and hitched one shoulder. "We
always has a good spread when Mrs. Wright comes to see the master," she
said, in a tone that conveyed a distinct reproof for ill-timed
interference.
Bunny subsided into sullen silence, and Mrs. Wright laughed again. "I
remember as it always used to be a heavy tea," she said. "But I don't
suppose a young gentleman like you would know what such things mean.
Now, I do hope you won't put yourself out on my account, Mrs. Bolton.
It's true I'm not accustomed to drawing-room meals, never had tea on my
lap in my life. But there, you might say as I haven't got much lap left
to have it on. Is that sardines you've got there, Sarah? Ah, you always
remember my pet weakness. Well, Jake, my dear, I haven't congratulated
you yet on your marriage. I hope it's going to be a very prosperous
one. I don't doubt as you've got a wife to be proud of, and I hope
you'll pull together well and make each other happy and comfortable; and
may you have your heart's desire, Jake, which--if I know you
properly--isn't very far to seek!"
"That's real kind of you, Mother," said Jake sombrely.
He had seated himself near Bunny whose brows were drawn in an ominous
scowl.
In spite of the fire that roared up the chimney, the atmosphere was very
far from being a genial one. Jake's eyes, compellingly bright, were
fixed upon Maud, who though burningly conscious of his regard refused
persistently to raise her own. She was bitterly resentful of Jake's
attitude. It placed her in an intolerable position from which she felt
herself powerless to break free. She had no desire to treat this
impossible old woman churlishly, but somehow Jake forced her to a more
acute realization of the great gulf that stretched between them. She
could not even pretend to be cordial in his presence. She sat
tongue-tied. Mrs. Wright, however, chatted on with the utmost
complacence. She was plainly quite at her ease with Jake and she kept
the conversation going without an effort, despite Maud's obvious
embarrassment and Bunny's evident impatience.
She made a hearty meal, urged on by Jake who presently bestowed the
whole of his attention upon her, seeming to dismiss his wife and
brother-in-law from his mind.
"I really must be going," she declared at length, having detailed all
the local gossip she could think of for his delectation. "You shouldn't
encourage me so, Jake. I'm sure you'll all be tired out."
"I reckon you're just the most welcome visitor that ever darkens my
doors," said Jake, rising with her. "Now, you're not to hurry. I'm
going to tell them to put the horse in."
"No, no, Jake, my dear, don't you! I'd sooner walk. I would indeed. It
does me good, and it's too cold to-night for driving. No, and I'm not
going to let you see me home either. I'd know the way blindfold, and
I'm not that nervous. Oh, there now! What's this?"
Mrs. Lovelace had just thrown open the door with some pomp. She
entered, bearing an enormous bunch of violets which she proceeded to
present to Maud with the ceremonious announcement: "Lord Saltash's
compliments, ma'am, and will you do him the honour to accept these?"
"Oh my! How lovely!" cried Mrs. Wright.
Maud said nothing. She took the violets and held them up to her face.
Jake glanced at her momentarily, and thence to Mrs. Lovelace who had
come forward to help Mrs. Wright into her cloak.
"Is Lord Saltash at the door?" he asked.
Mrs. Lovelace gave a start, as if something in the query surprised her.
"No sir, the flowers was brought by a groom," she said.
Jake said no more, but something in his silence sent the ever-ready
colour flooding Maud's face and neck. She bent a little lower over the
violets, saying no word.
Mrs. Wright came clumsily into the breach. "But aren't they lovely, to
be sure? Never did I see such beauties. And the scent of 'em, why, the
room is full of it! Isn't that kind of Lord Saltash now?"
"They have a great quantity at the Castle," Maud said in muffled tones.
She held the flowers for Mrs. Wright to smell, and at the same moment
Jake reached forth and took them from her outstretched hand.
"You take 'em if you like 'em, Mother. We get more of 'em than we
want," he said, in leisurely tones, and thrust the bouquet forthwith
into her astonished grasp.
"Oh, my dear!" cried Mrs. Wright, between dismay and delight. "But--but
they was a present to Mrs. Bolton. I couldn't really! No, that I
couldn't!"
"Take 'em!" Jake said. He was smiling a smile of deadly determination
and his leisurely utterance held something of a fateful quality that
induced Mrs. Wright to hush her remonstrances and turn appealingly to
Maud.
The latter was standing erect and still with eyes of burning blue fixed
steadily upon emptiness. She made no response whatever to her visitor's
unspoken appeal, it seemed that she did not even see it.
"It's all right, Mother," smiled Jake. "You take 'em home and enjoy
'em. As a matter of fact, Maud and I are getting a bit fed up with 'em
ourselves. Yes, I'm going to see you home. I'd rather."
"And I'd rather not, Jake," Mrs. Wright asserted with sudden decision.
An odd expression of sternness had come into her jolly countenance. It
sat very strangely there. She came close to Maud, and as the girl
extended a stiff hand in farewell she took it and pressed the flowers
into it. "They're not Jake's to give," she said, "and I'm not going to
deprive you of 'em. Thank you kindly for a very good tea, Mrs. Bolton,
my dear. And now I'll wish you good-bye. If there's ever anything as I
can do for you, you must let me know."
The words, the tone, were full of kindly comprehension, a sympathy too
subtle for outward expression. Maud looked into eyes of shining
friendliness, and as if a sudden shaft of sunlight had caught her heart,
her bitterness melted into something that was near akin to gratitude.
She held up the violets with a smile. "Wait a moment!" she said. "I
would like you to have some of them."
She untied them with the words, divided the great bunch, and gave back a
generous half into Mrs. Wright's plump hand.
"Now, that's very good of you, dear," said Mrs. Wright. "I shall just
treasure them violets. They'll make me think of you whenever I look at
'em. They're just the colour of your eyes. Good-bye, and thank you
most kindly."
It was then that Maud did a thing that amazed herself, impelled thereto
by that subtle sympathy which she had so little expected to meet. She
bent her stately neck and kissed the red, smiling face uplifted in such
honest admiration to hers. "Good-bye, Mrs. Wright," she said. "And
thank you for coming. I shall try to come and see you one day--when I
can make time."
"Any time, dear, any time!" beamed Mrs. Wright. "Drop in just whenever
you feel inclined! I'm most always there." She gave her a hearty hug
with the words, and then, as if afraid that this demonstration had been
too ardent, she turned and trotted to the door.
"Good-bye, Jake! Good-bye! There, now, I've forgotten Sir Brian. You
must excuse me for being so stupid."
"Oh, don't trouble!" said Bunny, with ironical courtesy. "Pray don't
come back on my account!"
She looked back at him from the threshold, a very motherly compassion on
her jolly face.
"Poor little lad!" she murmured pityingly. "How sadly he looks, to be
sure! Good-bye, then, Sir Brian! I won't come back. Now, Jake, I'll
let you see me to the door-step--no further. The moon's up, and Tom'll
be sure to come and meet me." She started down the passage with Jake
behind her, her voice dwindling as she went. "I'm so glad as I've seen
your princess, Jake. I think she's lovely. Mind you're very good to
her! She's high born, you know, Jake, my boy; better-class than you and
me. I never see anyone so proud and so dainty. You be kind to her, my
lad, and see you treat her like the lady she is!"
Jake's reply, if he made one, was inaudible.
"Common old hag!" growled Bunny from his sofa.
Maud said nothing at all. Her face was hidden in her violets, and she
was as one who heard not.