AN UNEASY MOTHER.
When a few commonplaces had passed, George put his arm round Alice,
saying, 'Come with me; I want to have a quiet chat with you;' and led
her out of the room.
As soon as Mrs Osborne found herself alone with Nevill, she turned to
him, and smiling, said,--
'George has informed me you wish to speak with me. We shall not be
interrupted now.'
'I find myself in an exceedingly difficult position, a position in
which I have never found myself before, and in which I hardly know how
to go on.'
She bowed very slightly, and awaited what further he had to say.
'The fact is, I have been a useless, worthless man all my life, Mrs
Osborne, a wanderer over the face of the globe, never doing an honest
day's work, and not caring particularly what happened to me or the
world to-morrow. I am no longer a very young man. I begin to think of
settling down, and I have decided upon settling down in the
neighbourhood of Stratford, if you have no objection.'
'Why should I have any objection to your settling in Stratford?'
'Well, in this way. Suppose I settled in this neighbourhood, and
bought a house, and lived a quiet homely English life, and got into
such respectable society as would admit me, do you think you would
have any objection, just because I'm ugly and the son of an English
merchant, to my coming and seeing you occasionally?'
'Not the least. You must not say rude things of yourself.'
She smiled. There was no denying he was ugly; but it was unusual to
hear a man thus push his ugliness into prominence. Whatever his birth
may have been he was not ashamed to own it. And what on earth could be
better than an English merchant, except an English gentleman? And
practically he was an English gentleman. He was modest enough; and
then he might be so useful. If he would only promise to be useful it
would be an enormous advantage in the unfortunate state of things now
existing.
'I say ho rude things of myself. I know what I am. I have been about
the world long enough to have lost all false shame. I hope I have not
lost true shame with it. I am not ashamed of the business upon which I
came here to you to-day.'
Again she bowed.
'The fact is, Mrs Osborne, as you know, I met your son in London, and
as everyone who meets him must, I took a great liking to him. He was
in every way such a contrast to me; so quiet and retiring, and bashful
and good. I also had the privilege of meeting your daughter, Miss
Osborne, and I have come to you, Mrs Osborne, by her direction, to ask
you if you would have any objection to my paying my addresses to her,
with a view to my marrying her, if you are good enough to give me
permission, and she is good enough to have me. Believe me, I am not
saying what I should like to say in the matter. But I feel awkward. In
fact, I am not accustomed to making--what rubbish am I talking! Be
merciful, and take the will for the deed.'
He paused, and looked at her eagerly. His sallow face was flushed, his
eyes anxious, his hands trembling violently.
'It is a very serious question, Mr Nevill.'
'A very serious question indeed, for you, for her, for me. I am so
much impressed by the gravity of this interview that I do not feel at
all self-possessed. The excitement of the moment has quite changed my
nature.'
Mrs Osborne looked at him long, and not unkindly. 'He is sincere, at
all events,' she thought. She said:--
'George had given me to understand you would say something of this
kind to me, and he has also told me matters of detail, matters of
business which are satisfactory so far as I have heard. But in a grave
affair of this kind we ought to be very careful. It is worth being
careful about one's child, one's daughter. George has told me one
thing, to which I attach the utmost importance. He says you are of the
same faith as Kate.'
'Yes. Mrs Osborne, I desire in this matter to be perfectly candid with
you in all things. I was brought up in the church, and have never been
a member of any other religious body. But I have not been an active or
pious member. You will understand a man going about as much as I, is
not so particular about keeping up observances as if he were settled
down in a quiet English country town.'
'I understand. Although I have lived a very quiet life I can make
allowances for young men, and so long as they do not take up some
new-fangled notions, I am prepared to make allowances. Now, I think
the best thing to be done is to bring Kate home. As you say you think
of settling somewhere hereabout, we shall be glad to see you now and
then, when it pleases you to call; but you will understand I go no
further than giving you leave to call. You may renew the subject of
this conversation later on, that is, if you do not in the meantime
alter your mind.'
'How can I tell you how much obliged I am to you, dear Mrs Osborne!'
he cried, excitedly clasping his own hands, and rising to his feet.
'You don't know what you have done for me to-day. You cannot imagine
the favour you have conferred. It is above all price. I will not say
more now than that, no matter how this affair may turn out, I shall
never forget the confidence and kindness you have shown me, a mere
stranger.'
'There is a subject, Mr Nevill, on which I am exceedingly anxious, one
which has never caused me a moment's uneasiness until to-day. You may
and you may not be able to serve me in it. If you are, you can serve
me greatly. I am uneasy about George.'
'Uneasy about George, Mrs Osborne! In what way?'
'Never lived a better son or brother; but I am afraid he is in more
danger than if he was much less good. I wish you would speak to him
seriously. Try to show him the wickedness and folly and misery of
unbelief. Now if, Mr Nevill, you could only do this, you would earn
more of my gratitude than you could in any other way.'
'I have no great faith in my influence with him, but I will do my very
best. You may rely on that.'
'You will stay for dinner? We dine at six.'
'I shall be very glad if you will allow me to dine with you; but first
I'll run over to The Falcon for a moment, just to counter-order a
dinner there. I shall be back before six.'
He left the house without meeting George. He went straight to that
dreary little railway station. The day was raw and wet, and cold and
miserable, and the railway station is one of the bleakest in England.
To him the day was full of light and gaiety. When he reached the
miserable telegraph-office he smiled at the damp-looking clerk. The
damp-looking clerk did not smile at him. No man in a normal state of
mind could smile on a wet winter's day at the Stratford railway
station.
Nevill took up a telegraph form, and put down his own name boldly.
Then he wrote 'Miss Osborne, care of Mrs Barclay, Peter's Row, London,
E.C.,' with great distinctness and care, touching and retouching the
letters of her name caressingly. Then bit elaborately, and carefully
inspected, the end of his pencil. Meanwhile the damp-looking clerk
faced him with the expression of a martyr to electricity and
suppressed catarrh. Nevill's was not an ordinary case. He was
addressing his first telegram to her who now he had good reason to
think would become his future wife. It was in the nature of his
position he should feel strongly, tenderly, hopefully. But how was a
man to be strong and tender and hopeful in the presence of this damp
clerk? the knowledge that this damp clerk would read the message, and
send it over a hundred miles of damp wires to London, where it would
again be read? What should he say? For a moment he thought he would
not telegraph at all; and then he thought that would look very like
treating Kate carelessly, and surely nothing in the world was further
from his desire than to treat Kate carelessly.
'Well, he couldn't stand there all day staring at that man. The clerk
looked as if he would as soon stand there all day as not; nothing
being of any interest to him. At last Nevill resolved upon the
simplest form, words that could bring no meaning to anyone who had not
the clue. The message ran:--
'I have had a most satisfactory interview. Nothing could have been
kinder. I will write. I dine there this evening.'
As soon as this had been handed in, Nevill returned to The Falcon,
countermanded the dinner, and strolled back to Osborne's. The dinner
passed over without any incident of consequence. Mrs Osborne was
grave, and George dull. Nevill's happiness spoiled his natural free
extravagance, and Alice, who now knew what the stranger had come
about, sat lost in wonder and dismay before the proof of Kate's bad
taste.
Mother and son had a little talk about matters of a purely local
character; and in these Nevill did his utmost to join and take an
interest. Instead of relating his own adventures among pirates, or
gamblers, or bushmen, he listened to all the doings of the little
town, and all the changes the few weeks of George's absence had made
in the neighbouring families and visitors around. Nevill was charmed.
He had never known what a family circle was. He had not left school
when his own home had been broken up; and since then, he had been here
and there and everywhere, but never in a quiet, sweet, wholesome home
like this, where all was orderly and clean and respectful, and there
was no ambition or bitterness, or spite or display. It was a domestic
haven for a weary man, and already Nevill felt perfect peace
descending upon him and clothing him round, as the darkness had that
evening descended upon the silent road, the peaceful garden, and,
clothed them now in repose.
'It is delicious to think I shall, after all,' he thought, 'end my
days under an apple-tree in an English orchard. To think of shaking
off the dust of the weary world, and gathering oneself into this
pastoral Warwick, sunk in the memories of its histories and of its
great son: in an English orchard with gentle Kate, with gentle Kate!
'Oh my Kate! Who could ever have fancied I should turn out such a
lover? Love cannot beautify me, but it beautifies all the rest of the
world for me; and what need I care for my ill-looks so long as my Kate
cares for me and is at my side? Under an apple-tree in an English
garden! What a handsome fellow that Osborne is! He'll be a credit to
me as a brother, and that is more than I shall be to him. What a pair
he and Miss Gordon will make! for of course what Osborne is talking of
is only rubbish. A handsome couple, by Jove! They will make--'
'George,' said Mrs Osborne, interrupting Nevill's thoughts, 'I think
it is now time Kate came home.'
Osborne looked up at his mother as though suddenly reminded of
something he had forgotten. He then started on remembering the
occasion of Kate's visit to London, and the enormous difference in his
hopes and plans since the day he met her at the London railway
terminus.
'I have thought over the _whole_ affair,' continued Mrs Osborne, with
slight emphasis and a significant look, 'and considering the
friendship that has sprung up between--Miss Gordon and Kate, and the
kindness she has shown to Kate, the least we may do is to give her a
most cordial invitation down here, and take no refusal.'
George looked up at his mother with tears of gratitude in his eyes. He
saw the kindly intent of a mother whom he loved with all the force of
his nature, and who, of late years, ever since he had grown to be a
lad, had behaved to him more as a sympathetic friend than as a mother.
She had sought to lead rather than to drive, to take him by the hand
rather than push him by the shoulder. Here was she now, entering into
his schemes, interesting herself in making matters easy for him,
helping him towards that marriage he had set his heart and soul upon
awhile ago. Things were going right with everybody--but his wretched
self. What should he do? Whither should he turn? Where should he go?
Anyway, his reply was plain,--
'I am sure, mother, it would be a very gracious thing to do, and Kate
would be greatly pleased by it.'
'Then, you see,' said Mrs Osborne, more cordially than he had ever in
all his life heard her speak before, 'we shall be a party much the
same as you were in London; for I understand Mr Nevill will not be far
off, and Alice and I will be of the party, and we can have a few
people now and then, and we may go out occasionally.'
George tried to smile, and said, almost inarticulately,--
'You are very good, mother.'
Nevill was delighted. Why, this was as good as giving him a standing
invitation to all the parties at the house, as well as to the ordinary
hospitality! What could be more delicious than this? Nothing in the
world. To woo by day his own sweet, fair, gentle Kate in country
lanes, and then spend the evening with her at a homely hearth! What
could be more fascinating? And then the fact that Mrs Osborne spoke of
arrangements of this kind before him, made him feel she already
regarded him as a member of the family. He had prospered much better
than he had hoped in his wildest dreams.
Mrs Osborne thought, 'If I can only get George to stay here and be
under the old influence, and the influence of this girl, all may go
well, and he may lose the awful doubts and difficulties under which he
now labours.'
When the ladies had retired, the two men left the table and drew their
chairs to the fire.
'You may smoke,' said Osborne; 'no one objects to smoking here, Any of
my friends who use tobacco always smoke here.'
Nevill lit a cigar, and for a long time both men sat looking in
silence at the fire. Nevill spoke first,--
'I have got on to-day much better than I had hoped. I think it will be
all right. What do you think, George?'
'I am almost sure all will be right. I think nothing could have been
better than the way you got on,' answered Osborne, very sedately.
'I don't think I can be wrong now. I will not believe I can be wrong.
Kate would not have referred me to your mother, George, unless she was
willing to listen to me; and your mother would not have spoken as she
did at dinner, unless she had made up her mind not to refuse her
consent. What she said at dinner was more significant than anything
she said to me privately. I don't think I can fail now, do you?'
'I think--I am sure--you have no reason for fear in the matter now. I
should think it unbecoming in either Kate or my mother to go so far
and draw back without very good and strong reason.'
He crossed his legs, leaned his elbow on the table, and his head on
his hand.
'I feel certain I may count on it now. You cannot believe what a
relief it is to me. I would not go through the last week again for all
the money in the Bank of England.'
'Nor would I.'
'From the first moment I found out my feelings towards Kate until now
I have never had a peaceful hour, never a peaceful minute. By day I
had a racking doubt, half fear, half hope. I could not sit still
half-an-hour. I could not fix my mind on anything, on anyone. My mind
was not always occupied with Kate; but when I strove to compel it to
look at anything else, I had a feeling as though something must be
happening to her while my mind was away from her. Of course I should
not speak so freely to any other man; but you and I are in the same
boat, and you will appreciate what my feelings must have been.'
Osborne crossed the leg which had been under over the other, but said
no word.
'And now, George, coming to the practical, do you know any place about
here you think would suit us?'
'Not at the moment. What kind of a place would you like?'
'Well, if I am to settle in the country, I may as well have a little
bit of the country to turn in. I'd like a comfortable house with ten
or twelve acres of land. I have always had an idea of starting as a
tree-grower. You can grow trees on ten or twelve acres. I don't mean
growing timber, mind; I mean trees for planting. I have had a notion
of the whole thing in my mind for years.'
'It would not be easy to get such a place, but you might pick it up.'
'Of course we couldn't live in very good style; but we could have
rashers for breakfast, and bacon and beans for dinner, and watercress
and shrimps for tea.'
'I don't know about the shrimps hereabout. You'd often have to send
for them. We have not a well-supplied fish-market.'
'Well, say tinned beef. We couldn't afford much for that house and
land; say, four thousand, or under. Not much splendour to be got for
that; but quiet comfort, I should think.'
'You ought to be able to get a place to suit you for the money.'
'I'd like it to be thorough rural, not so near the town as this. I'd
like a house on a hill, and would not care to be more than a mile from
a good old church, where five or ten generations of simple folk have
knelt and worshipped until they were gathered into the quiet
churchyard. My dear good George, it would be such a pleasure to me,
who have been kicking about the world so long, owning nothing but my
baggage, having no being on earth more dear to me than the waiter who
last drew a cork for me, to find myself owner of a quiet English house
on the top of one of these gentle hills, overlooking a little valley
with an old-fashioned church in view, and the dearest girl in all the
world by my side, and you and your wife--'
'Yes, I can understand, I can understand,' said Osborne, very softly.
He got up, and leaning his elbows on the chimneypiece, was silent for
awhile. Something in his action and manner caused Nevill to pause. All
at once Osborne turned round, held out his hand, and said, in a firm,
clear voice,--
'Nevill, I hope you may succeed, and realise all your hopes. You are a
good, kindly fellow. I like you very much. I shall be very glad to do
anything I can for you, and to hear you speak on any subject but one.
From this, until I tell you I have removed the injunction, you must
not allude to my affairs.'