"Hadn't we better begin breakfast. Mr Hampton?" said Gertrude.
"Oh, don't hurry, my dear. Mr Hampton is not going to town by the
early train. What a lovely morning! Perhaps he has gone for a walk."
The ladies walked to the window and Mr Hampton turned his newspaper and
coughed loudly, as he glanced at the breakfast-table, afterwards making
a wry face as he felt sundry twinges suggestive of Nature's demands for
food.
A quarter of an hour slipped by, and then the old housekeeper, who kept
to the same simple old fashion adopted by her late master, whose
household had consisted of Denton, a housemaid, cook, and gardener,
entered the dining-room.
"Shall I bring up the ham, Miss Gertrude?"
"Perhaps you had better go and knock at Mr Harrington's door. He may
have dropped asleep again."
The old woman went out, and at the end of five minutes she came back,
looking pale and scared.
"I--I can't make him hear, miss," she said. "Do you think he is ill?"
"Gone for a walk," said the old lawyer sharply.
"I--I don't think he has gone out, sir," faltered the old lady.
"Perhaps you wouldn't mind going up to his room."
"And be told to mind my own business--eh? Thanks; no."
He gave the newspaper a vicious shake, and a blow in the middle to
double it up for a fresh reading.
"Shall I go up, Gertrude, my dear?" said Mrs Hampton.
"If you would not mind. He may, perhaps, be a little unwell."
"To be sure, my dear. I'll go."
The lawyer's wife left the room, and without a moment's hesitation
walked along the passage to the study, entered and looked round.
"Yes," she said to herself, as she took up the whiskey decanter, and
held it at arm's length. "How temperate and self-denying we are.
Essence of sick headache, and he has drunk every drop."
To give colour to Mrs Hampton's theory, besides the empty condition of
the decanter, a peculiar odour of spirits filled the room, causing the
old lady's nostrils to dilate, and the corners of her lips to go down as
she hurried out.
"And they hardly ever will open a window," she muttered, as she stood in
the hall, hesitating. "But I said I would go up," she continued, and
ascending quickly she paused before the door of the bedroom she sought.
"Mr Harrington!" she cried, as she gave a few sharp raps with her bony
knuckles.
No answer.
"Mr Harrington!"
The taps were louder, but there was no reply.
"I thought as much," she muttered. "Broken out again, and in a regular
drunkard's sleep. No; it's an insult to sober people's rest to call it
sleep--stupor. Oh, my poor girl, my poor girl! If I could only save
you from being this dreadful man's wife."
"Mr Harrington!" she cried again, after a pause; but all was still.
Then the taps she had previously given upon the door became heavy
thumps. "Mr Harrington, are you coming down to breakfast?"
"Is anything the matter, ma'am?" said the old housekeeper coming slowly
up the stairs.
"Yes, Mrs Denton; no, Mrs Denton; yes, Mrs Denton. I mean nothing
serious, but it's very dreadful."
The old housekeeper shook her head; and the tears stood in her eyes as
she walked to the end of the wide passage, and descended to the embayed
window looking upon the garden, where she used her apron to flick off
some white powdery dust from the sill.
"Yes, ma'am," she said, "it is very dreadful. I know what you mean.
Poor dear master liked his two or three glasses of port after his
dinner, but that was all. Unless any one was ill you never saw a drop
of spirits about the place, while now it's brandy and whiskey, and soda
and seltzer, as is a pair of shams, not to make the spirits weaker, but
to coax people on to drink more."
"You think the same as I do then, Denton?" whispered Mrs Hampton.
"It don't take any thinking, ma'am. Look at his nose and his cheeks.
People don't have those public-house signs on their fronts without going
very often into the cellar. Oh, my dear ma'am; you're a woman--I mean a
lady."
"Only a woman like yourself, Denton."
"Then don't--pray don't stand by with your hands crossed and see that
poor darling child sold into such a bondage as this."
"What do you mean, Denton?"
"Well, there, ma'am, if you're offended, you must be, but I shall speak
the honest truth."
"Go on, Denton."
"I mean letting poor Miss Gertrude be married to such a man as Master
George."
"What am I to do, Denton?"
"I don't know, ma'am. I've been down upon my bended knees to her, but
she turns away. She don't like him--that's the wonder of it--and yet
she will have him."
"Yes, Denton; that's the wonder of it. She's little and weak, and yet
she's stronger than all of us put together with poor old Mr
Harrington's wishes at her back."
"But you, ma'am--she believes in and likes you. Many a time she's come
to me, years ago, and told me how you've scolded and found fault with
her about her manners, and when I've said you were very cantankerous--"
"Oh, you said that of me, did you, Denton?"
"Yes, ma'am, to speak the truth, I have said so; but she always spoke up
for you, and said you talked to her like a mother."
"Yes, Denton; I tried to."
"Then," cried the old woman fiercely, "why don't you talk to her like a
mother now, and save the poor child from such a terrible fate."
"You think it will be a terrible fate, Denton?"
"Do you believe in young men who can't keep from the drink now, and who
make the poor old house smell of whiskey from top to bottom, mending
because they've got pretty young wives?"
"I want to be charitable, Denton."
"Then prove it, ma'am, by saving my poor dear young lady from being the
wife of a sot."
"Is anything the matter, Mrs Hampton?" said Gertrude.
"No, my dear, only that wicked, idle man is so fast asleep that we
cannot wake him."
"Never mind," said the old lawyer, who had followed Gertrude out into
the hall. "Better let him have his sleep out. Come, my dear, and have
pity on me."
"Yes, Mr Hampton, we will not wait any longer. Denton, pray see that
some fresh breakfast is ready on a tray, to bring up directly your
master comes down."
"Yes, miss, I will," said the old woman; and then in an undertone to
Mrs Hampton, as the old lawyer said something to Gertrude: "Do, do,
pray, ma'am, try and stop it. I'd sooner help to lay the poor dear out
for her last sleep than help to dress her to go to church with Master
George."
Mrs Hampton went down the flight of stairs to the breakfast-table,
looking exceedingly comic.
Hers was a peculiar face at the best of times; and now it was at its
worst, for her spirit was greatly troubled on Gertrude's behalf, and she
was trying to smile and look cheerful.
Her husband saw it and made matters worse.
"Gertrude, my dear," he said in a whisper his wife could hear, "for
goodness' sake give her a cup of tea; she's bubbling over with acidity."
"No, I am not, Hampton, and don't be absurd."
"Certainly not, my dear. Excuse me, Miss Gertie, may I begin?"
He was already placing a slice of ham upon his plate with a delicately
cooked egg reposing in its midst, but he recollected himself and passed
it across to his wife.
"Thanks, no," she said with quite a hoarse croak. "Dry toast."
Gertrude was of the same way of thinking. Only the lawyer made a hearty
breakfast hastily, and then started for town.
"No, no, don't you ladies move," he said. "Finish your breakfasts.
Apologise to George Harrington for me. Back in good time."
He did not realise that the other occupants of the breakfast-table had
been forcing themselves to swallow a few morsels, so as to keep up
appearances; and as the door closed their eyes met, and Gertrude could
contain herself no longer, but burst into a passion of tears.
"Hush, hush, my darling?" whispered Mrs Hampton, taking her to her
breast. "Don't take on about it. There, there, there; I want to play a
mother's part to you, and I'm only a clumsy imitation; but, indeed,
Gertie, I want to advise you for the best."
"Yes, I know you do," whispered the poor girl, as she struggled hard to
be composed. "But tell me you don't think there is any reason for
George being so late."
For answer Mrs Hampton kissed her on the brow.
"You do not speak. It is cruel of you to be silent."
"Do you wish me to speak out?"
"Yes, even if I do not agree with you," cried Gertrude, flushing up as
if ready to defend her betrothed.
"Then, my dear, I do."
"Tell me--what?"
"I am George Harrington's guest, Gertrude; then I am the trusty friend
of the girl I have known and loved ever since she was a child."
"Yes, yes, indeed you are; I know that; only you are so bitter against
George."
"Gertie, my dear," said the old lady, leading her to the couch and
sitting down with old Harrington's face seeming to smile down upon them,
"if I feel bitter against George Harrington it is from love for you."
"Yes, yes; but try not to be unjust. Think of the life he has been
forced to lead."
"I can think only of my little girl's life that she will have to lead."
"Why do you speak like this?" panted Gertrude, who looked like some
frightened bird, ready to struggle to escape.
"I may be hard and unjust, my child, but I judge by what I see."
"See! What have you seen this morning?"
"I have been in the study. It smells as a room does where men have
passed the night drinking."
"But after the change--after the promises."
"The whiskey decanter was empty. I know it was full yesterday morning,
for I saw Mrs Denton carry it in."
"Ah!" sighed Gertrude.
"And this morning the man you have promised to marry is lying in a
drunken sleep."
"You do not know that," cried Gertrude excitedly.
"I know enough to make me say once more--Gertrude, I am a childless old
woman, and I love you as Mr Hampton loves you in his peculiar way,
which is a good deal like mine--rough and clumsy, but very honest and
true."
"Dearest Mrs Hampton!" cried Gertrude, throwing her arms about the old
lady's neck; "as if I did not know how good, and kind, and loving you
have always been."
"Then listen to me once more, my darling, before it is too late. I do
not look like the sort of woman who can talk about love, but I can, and
I know what love is."
"Yes, yes, of course," faltered Gertrude.
"And I know that you do not love George Harrington."
A pause.
"And George Harrington does not love you."
"He told me he did--very dearly, Mrs Hampton, and if--if--I do not love
him as I ought to do, I shall try so very, very hard to make him a true
and loving wife."
"Trying is no use, my dear. Love comes and goes of itself. You may
make yourself friends with any one, but you cannot make yourself love."
"Not when he loves me?" cried Gertrude.
"So much, my child, that only a short time before he is married to you,
he goes and plays the swine."
"Mrs Hampton!" cried Gertrude indignantly.
"Very well, then, my dear, I will not speak like that. It is too blunt
and strong. He goes then--after promising everybody, and in
disobedience to Doctor Lawrence's orders, and quite soon after a
dangerous attack of _delirium tremens_, brought on by drink--and takes
that which has compelled him to keep his bed this morning."
"But he may be ill, Mrs Hampton."
"He is ill, my dear, and with an illness which brings on a craving he
cannot control."
"Oh?" sighed Gertrude, covering her face with her hands.
"He madly goes and makes himself the slave of a terrible master, who
will ruin health, and pocket--destroy him utterly."
"You are too severe, Mrs Hampton," faltered Gertrude.
"Not a bit, my dear."
"He said he would not take more than Mr Hampton might, or you."
"That will not do, my dear," said the old lady calmly. "My husband
treats wine and spirits as his slaves, and makes them obey him. I do
the same. George Harrington sets what the teetotallers call the great
God Alcohol up on a pedestal, and grovels before it in his insane
worship."
"But he is growing so much better, Mrs Hampton."
"No, my dear. He is only professing to do so. He is the slave and he
will go lower and lower. I say then, even with the great wealth he has
inherited, is this man the suitable partner of your future?"
"I want to defend him," sighed Gertrude to herself, "but she masters
me--she masters me."
"Then listen to me, my dear, before it is too late. Do one of two
things--come to us, where you shall be as our child, or, if you prefer
it, set up a little simple home of your own, with poor old Denton, who
would gladly accept this plan; you will not be well off, but you will be
happy--yes, I say happy," cried the old lady, looking up defiantly at
the portrait, which had caught her eye, and seemed to be gazing
searchingly at her. "Ah, you may look, but you are only canvas and
paint; and if you were alive you would not throw this poor child into
the arms of a drunken man."
"Mrs Hampton, what are you saying?" cried Gertrude, looking up and
shivering, as she realised that the old lady was addressing the picture
on the wall.
"The plain, honest, simple truth, my dear. Come, come, be advised by
me."
"No, no; it is impossible," murmured Gertrude.
"Not a bit of it, my child. Think of your future. He will not reform."
"He will--he will."
"He will not. He can't. He hasn't it in him. Gertie, my dear, you may
fight for him, but he is a shifty bad man, and I don't believe in him a
bit."
"This is too cruel."
"It is kindness though it gives you pain, my dear. Some men might
repent and alter, but I have studied George Harrington from the day he
came to the house, and I cannot find the stuff in him to make a better
man."
"I should make him a better man, Mrs Hampton," said Gertrude proudly.
"You would worry yourself into your grave, Gertrude, and if you marry
him, I shall order my mourning at once, for you do not, and never will
love him."
"Now you are laughing at me," said Gertrude, brightening up, and taking
the old lady's withered hands in her soft, plump little palms. "It is
impossible to follow out your proposal, and I shall marry George
Harrington for my dear uncle's sake."
"And be a wretched woman for life."
"No, Mrs Hampton; even at the worst, I shall have the happy
consciousness of having done my duty; but there will be no worse. I
shall win."
Mrs Hampton shook her head.
"Yes," repeated Gertrude; "I shall win, and bring him to the right way.
He cannot refuse to listen to me. Surely a weak trusting woman has
power over even the strongest man."
"In novels, and poems, and plays, my dear, more than in real life, I am
afraid," said Mrs Hampton, with a sigh of resignation; "but remember
this, my dear, when in the future you recall all I have said--No, no,
no, my darling; I can't stoop to talk to you like that. Gertie, my
child, I am very sorry, but I am going to help you carry out your noble
resolve with all my heart."
"Mrs Hampton?" cried Gertrude joyously.
"Yes, my dear; and if women can win, we'll make a hero of George
Harrington--good Heavens! what's that?"
The two women started from the sofa, and gazed in a startled way toward
the hall.