The Admiral says 'good-night' to the last of his guests; then he turns
to his daughter, who is evidently preparing for a speedy retreat.
'Don't run away yet, Laura; we keep early hours at Government House,
but it is not very late yet.'
Rather reluctantly, Mrs Best obeys. She knows perfectly well why her
father wishes her to remain, and she shrewdly suspects what subject
of conversation he is likely to introduce. Now that she has had her
triumph, by carrying out a pet plan with regard to Katie, that very
success makes her uneasy, for she knows she will be called to account.
However, she resolves to be brave, and at once leads the way to the
music-room. The servants have already put out most of the lights, but
here the wax-candles are throwing lustre over scattered music and
deserted seats. Laura gathers up some of the songs, wondering when
her father will begin, and how the attack will open. She knows it is
coming, for he is restlessly pacing to and fro the room with that
quarter-deck march of his, that betokens an uneasy mind.
'Why were the Greys not here this evening, Laura?'
She smooths out the leaves of an Italian duet, lays it on the
music-stand, and replies with apparent indifference: 'Because they were
not invited, papa.'
'Why not? I gave you the list, and I'm certain their names were down.
Why did you omit them?'
'Is it always necessary to invite the same people over and over again?
The Greys have been at every party that has taken place since I came
here to stay.'
'Had you any _particular_ reason for leaving them out, Laura?' asks the
Admiral, turning round quickly, as he notes his daughter's slightly
scornful tone of voice.
For a moment Mrs Best is undecided. Perhaps a slight meaningless excuse
will do. But only for a passing second does she think thus. Her frank
loyal nature asserts itself, and she says in a quick earnest manner,
with her eyes a little lowered, her cheeks a little flushed: 'I had a
good reason, papa. Kate Grey makes herself far too much at home here.
One would imagine she has some special privilege in this house.'
'Well, and I am always glad to see her.'
'She knows that, and presumes on the knowledge. People seeing her so
much at home at Government House, are beginning to talk in a most
unpleasant manner.'
'What do they say, Laura?'
'They say you mean to make her your second wife. O papa, surely,
_surely_ you will never do that! A girl so selfish, so ambitious, so
fond of admiration, so, so'----
'Stop, Laura! The category of faults you lay to poor Katie's charge is
surely long enough. So people say I mean to make her my second wife, do
they?'
A flush passes over the Admiral's face, and mounts to his brow. A
quick throb rises at his heart, as for the first time he hears Katie's
name coupled with his own. Till this moment, his thoughts about her
have been vague and unsettled. He admires her very much--more than any
other lady he knows; but the idea of making her an offer of marriage
has never seriously entered his head. But now, his daughter's very
cautions, her very reports of the world's gossip, shadow forth to
him that a marriage between him and Miss Grey may not be so very
preposterous after all, not such utter madness as he himself would have
called it a few months ago.
Laura, seated on a music-stool, her hands clasped before her, and her
eyes fixed on her father's face, reads its meaning at once; and as a
brave, a loving, and a fearless daughter, she will not shrink from the
duty she believes is required of her now. 'Dear papa,' she exclaims,
'let me entreat you not to risk your future happiness! Kate Grey would
never make you a good wife. She cares far too much for herself ever to
study the true interests of any other person.'
'Why are you so bitter against Miss Grey?'
'I am not bitter. I only tell the real sad truth. Don't let her come
to rule in your house; don't let her rob me of my father's love.'
Sir Herbert draws near his daughter, and looks tenderly down at her
flushed face and moistened eyes. 'Be reasonable, my child! No one can
ever rob you of my love; but' (here he pauses, as though hesitating how
to word his meaning--adding composedly enough) 'should I ever marry
Miss Grey or any other lady, you must not be prejudiced against my
choice, Laura. My marriage can never injure you in the least. Remember,
your poor mother's fortune was all settled on you before you married
Robert Best.'
'I am not thinking of money, papa. Mere money considerations do not
influence me in the least.'
'Possibly not. But let me allude to the subject once more while we are
talking. Robert has left you mistress of his fine estate. You have
duties and responsibilities that separate you almost entirely from me
now. Is not that the case?'
'Yes. I wish I could be more with you.'
'You cannot, Laura, without neglecting your own interests. Therefore
I am at times lonely--very lonely in the midst of surrounding society
and occupation. My house needs a head. My heart yearns sometimes for
congenial companionship. Don't grudge me happiness, Laura, if I can see
my way towards gaining it.'
'I hope and pray every possible happiness may be yours, papa; but don't
look to Katie Grey for such a thing. She would marry any one to obtain
position and wealth.'
Sir Herbert turns away, and walks to the end of the room; but he soon
comes back again, and sees his daughter watching him with eyes that are
misty and tearful.
'I am thinking of my own precious mother. Oh, how different she was
from this girl! Miss Grey is all unworthy to take her place.'
In her earnestness, Mrs Best has risen from the music-stool, and stands
before her father with great tears coursing down her cheeks. She raises
her clasped hands to him in the most imploring of all attitudes. The
snowy crispy dress with its white folds gives her a shadowy, almost
ghost-like look; and as her pathetic entreating face turns to the
Admiral, it almost seems to him as though the soul of her mother is
appealing to him through Laura's eyes. Never has the likeness struck
him so much. It is as though his beloved Bess had come from the grave
to bid him beware.
The daughter sees the impression she has made, and like many another,
presumes too much on her success, and goes a step too far. Had she
stopped at this point, perhaps her father would have given her the
promise she requires, that he will not marry Kate Grey. But Laura wipes
away her tears, and exclaims: 'You are coming round to my views, papa!
You are beginning to see how unfit this Katie is to be your wife. Miss
Grimshaw quite agrees with me about her true character.'
Sir Herbert steps back--draws himself up to his full height. 'And what
in the world does Miss Grimshaw know about the matter?'
'She has great powers of discernment. Indeed it was she who first
raised my suspicions, and set me to watch Katie's manœuvres.'
'Very kind of her! I ought to be particularly grateful for her
surveillance!'
A cloud gathers on the Admiral's brow; but Laura, unwarned, goes on:
'Adelaide Grimshaw is _all_ kindness. O papa, I wish you would fix on
_her_! She would fill the position of mistress to your household with
tact and taste, and would make you an excellent wife.'
'Thank you for your suggestion, Laura; but be assured if ever I do
marry, Miss Grimshaw will not be my choice.'
He shudders as memory recalls to his mind the lank figure of the very
elderly lady his daughter commends to his notice. He recalls the faded
face, the thin wiry curls, the lymphatic eyes, the bleating plausible
voice, with which, in the calmest manner, she is wont to gossip over
the frailties of her neighbours, and pass hard judgments on those who
are younger and more attractive than herself. Then his thoughts revert
to Katherine Grey. Whatever her faults may be, fortunately they are
all the very opposite of Miss Grimshaw's: mind and body are altogether
formed in a very different mould. After this, the conversation comes
to a close, and father and daughter separate--she to lament over the
Admiral's infatuation; he to wander for an hour or two more through the
dimly lighted empty suite of rooms.
Laura's words have moved him strangely. His pulse quickens as he
remembers that what has been to him a half-formed purpose, a whispered
secret, is already the town's talk, and that everybody is watching to
see what will come next.
Has Katie herself heard of these reports, and begun to trace out the
shadow of possible coming events? Would she be very much surprised if
he tried to give these airy rumours a solid foundation?
Such is the train of thought which floats through Sir Herbert's mind
long after the great house is closed for the night, and left apparently
to sleep and silence. He hears the measured tramp of the sentry on the
cold damp pavement outside; the distant sound of the ships' bells in
the harbour, as it is borne in by the wintry blast; and the musical
peals from the church steeples that chime the small morning hours;
but the question still rings its changes in his mind and finds no
satisfactory answer.