THE SERMON.
By the time Lovel and his oddly-chosen companion had passed out of
sight, Iris regained her composure and returned to the house. She said
nothing to Milly, who was now playing waltzes on the jingling piano,
and did not even re-enter the drawing room. It was quite useless to
expostulate further with the spoilt beauty; so Iris went back to help
Eliza in the kitchen, and to see after the dinner. Nevertheless, she
thought a great deal about Milly's flirtation with Lovel; and, since
she could do nothing with the girl, wondered if it would be wise to
inform Dr. Lester of the situation.
It must be clearly understood that Iris did not wish Milly to marry
the Squire of Barnstead. She was in love with him herself, and would
have dearly liked to become his wife. The mysticism of the man
attracted her in no small degree, and she sympathised with his
aspirations and religious views. It was clear to the most unobservant
that Milly would not make him a good wife; and nothing would have
pleased Iris better than that something should occur to interrupt the
marriage. But she was resolved that the obstacle should not be placed
in the way by her, lest it should be said that she was scheming to
obtain Herne for herself. Rather than she should be accused of such
selfishness, Iris was determined to bring about the marriage by every
means in her power. The one danger likely to prevent the match was the
flirtation of Milly with Lovel; and Iris decided to tell Dr. Lester of
this danger, so that Milly should meet her lover no more. The father
alone could save his daughter from jeopardising her future.
Unfortunately, Dr. Lester returned from Marborough more or less
intoxicated, and after a pretence of eating retired to his bedroom to
sleep off his potations. It was quite useless to appeal to Philip
drunk, as Iris knew well; therefore she was obliged to wait till next
morning, when there might be some chance of getting Philip sober to
take a sensible view of the matter. Milly took no notice of her
father's condition, being well used to his debauches, but spent the
evening in trimming a hat which she designed to wear to church the
next day. Iris sat in the same room, employed with needlework; and
took the opportunity of informing Milly what she intended to do. There
was nothing secretive about Miss Link; she was an open enemy, and not
a snake in the grass; moreover, she hoped by warning Milly of her
decision to make her promise to renounce the Lovel flirtation.
"Milly," she said, as they worked rapidly, "have you thought of what I
said to you this afternoon?"
"About what?" asked the other carelessly.
"About Mr. Lovel. Will you promise to stop flirting with him?"
"No, I won't!" said Milly flatly; "he amuses me, and I intend to meet
him and talk to him as much as I like. If you choose you can tell
Darcy."
"You know I shan't do that," replied Iris quietly, "and that you are
safe in giving me the permission. But I'll tell your father."
"Pooh! What does that matter? He won't speak to Darcy: he's too
anxious for me to marry the man; I told you that this afternoon."
"He will be very angry," cried Iris in despair.
"Let him be angry!" returned the dutiful daughter; "he can't kill me!"
"O Milly! Milly! Why can't you behave in a more honourable manner? If
you love Mr. Lovel, break off the match with Mr. Herne."
"And let you have your chance!" sneered Milly, tossing her head. "No,
thank you, dear."
"Then stop flirting with Mr. Lovel and be true to your future
husband."
Milly laughed, shook her head, and busied herself with threading a
needle. "My future husband," said she slowly; "h'm! perhaps I won't
marry him after all."
"Then you intend to accept Mr. Lovel?"
"No, I intend to do nothing. But Gran Jimboy read my hand this
afternoon, and she prophesied that I should marry neither."
"What do you mean?" asked Iris sharply. "Have you a third admirer?"
"According to gran I have," said Milly with a shiver; "the third
admirer is Death, my dear. I am to be--murdered!"
Iris rose so quickly that her work rolled on to the floor. She looked
at Milly in a scared sort of way. "Are you out of your mind?" she said
nervously.
"No; I'm only telling you what Gran Jimboy read in my hand. But I
don't believe in palmistry; do you, Iris?"
"No, I don't," said Miss Link contemptuously. "You ought to be ashamed
of yourself, letting Gran Jimboy play on your fears. Did she say you
would die?"
"Yes; that I should be murdered. Ugh!" and Milly shivered again.
"You don't believe such rubbish?"
Miss Lester jumped up and threw the hat she had been trimming on the
sofa. "I don't know," she said, pacing to and fro. "Sometimes I do;
sometimes I don't. I wish you would not talk of death! I hate it!"
Then, after a pause, "I'm going to bed," said she.
Iris arrested her at the door. "Milly, do be sensible, and give up
these wild ideas."
"Mr. Lovel, I suppose?"
"Yes; don't flirt with him any more, and I'll not tell Dr. Lester."
"You can do as you please!" returned Milly loftily. "I'm doing no
harm, and I'll talk to Lucas as much as I please!"
"Lucas! You call him by his first name?"
"When I wish to be nice, I do," replied the girl provokingly; "and he
calls me by mine."
"Milly, you are ruining your life!" said Iris in despair.
"Ah, well; what of it? It's going to be a short one--according to
Gran Jimboy," and before her sister could make a further remark Milly
ran out of the room, with a nervous laugh. Iris resumed her seat, and
again devoted herself to work, but her thoughts were busy with the
ill-disciplined mind of her companion.
Whether it was Milly's attitude towards Herne, or her conduct with
Lovel, or her revelation of the gipsy's prophecy, Iris did not know;
but she felt a premonition of evil, and wondered what she could do to
prevent the occurrence of ill. There was no thought of self in the
desire, for she was genuinely sorry for the fool's paradise in which
Lovel was living. Doubtless he thought that Milly would break with
Herne to marry him; but Iris was assured that her sister was too fond
of money and luxury to do so. Milly had no idea of morality, or right
or wrong, and was quite content to flirt with one man and go to the
altar with the other, without caring for the consequences. Yet in the
complication she had made there lay the elements of tragedy; and Iris
wondered if the gipsy had been clever enough to guess this, and had
prophesied death and danger merely on the possibility of such result.
She was beginning to feel alarmed at the entanglement, and resolved to
put matters straight if she could. Failing the authority of Lester
over his reckless daughter, which was merely nominal, it yet remained
that an explanation and an appeal to Lovel might induce him to
withdraw from the fascinations of Milly, and leave the village. Then
the marriage with Herne might be pressed on, and under his good
influence and care Milly might be sheltered from the dangers of life
which were created by her love of admiration. This was the only course
to pursue, and Iris decided to take it.
"I'll see Mr. Lovel to-morrow," she said when retiring to bed, "and
appeal to his better nature to go away. Darcy is so much in love with
her that it would break his heart to lose her. Milly must marry him,
and do her best to make him happy. I can do nothing less to show
my love for him. Ah! he does not guess how I worship him! If he
did--alas! alas!" Here Iris broke off her meditations, and
extinguished the light. Then, in the silence and darkness, she wept
quietly over her unreturned love and aching heart. Truly, to a woman,
the burden of unrequited affection is heavy to bear.
Early on Sunday morning Milly received a letter from Darcy, stating
that he would return the next day, as he had concluded his business.
The information gave her no pleasure, as it meant that she would have
to submit to be bored in his company, and would not be able to see
Lucas as often as heretofore. Yet the receipt of the letter gave her
the assurance that she could safely keep her appointment with Lovel,
without being found out; and her hitherto wavering decision was fixed
from that moment. This intention was unknown to Iris else she might
have prevented the meeting.
Milly did not go to church in the morning, but Iris attended at St.
Dunstan's, less for the service than because she desired to see Lovel.
Dr. Lester had been as cross as a bear--the usual result of his weekly
visit to Marborough--and Iris had not dared to complain about Milly,
lest it should raise a domestic storm. The doctor kept to his own
room, Milly amused herself with a novel, and Iris went to church to
see Lovel. He was not present, however, and as she could not call on
him at the Herne Arms, she was obliged to return home disappointed;
and decided to delay her appeal till the next day. The delay was
fatal.
As usual, Milly idled through the long summer hours in a discontented
fashion, keeping out of her father's way as much as possible. She saw
from his conduct that Iris had not fulfilled her threat of informing
him of her vagaries, and said as much.
"No," replied Iris coldly; "I have not complained to your father, as
he has no authority over you. It would be useless."
"I'm glad you see that, dear," rejoined Milly cordially. "I suppose
you intend to speak to Darcy and get me a lecture?"
"I have told you twice that I do not intend to speak to Mr. Herne. No;
it is my intention to ask Mr. Lovel to leave the village."
"Pooh! He won't do that while I'm here.
"If he is an honorable man he will."
Milly shrugged her shoulders. "All I know is that he is a very nice
fellow," she said; "if you want honor and priggishness, go to Darcy."
Iris was too disgusted to reply to this remark, and went to her room
in silence to prepare for evening service. Fearing lest Lovel should
speak with Milly on the way to church, she insisted that the girl
should come with her. Assured that the appointment would be kept in
the Winding Lane, Milly agreed to this readily enough, as she did not
wish to rouse the suspicion of Iris, whom she regarded in the light of
a marplot. So, to church the sisters--as they may be called--went in
the most amiable fashion, and presented an affectionate exterior for
the benefit of the Barnstead gossips.
St. Dunstan's was quite full, for Mr. Chaskin was the preacher, and
his sermons were always worth hearing. He was a tall, well-built man,
with an earnest, clean-shaven face; and as he walked in at the tail of
the choir-boys a suspicion of his former military vocation could be
seen in the swing of his stride. With certain alterations consequent
on the Reformation, he had exchanged the sword for the cowl, like some
warrior of mediaeval times. He was as earnest a clergyman as he had
been a soldier; and had won golden opinions from one and all since his
arrival at Barnstead.
During the earlier part of the service Milly, according to custom,
looked round the church, and prayed with the lips rather than the
heart. In the almost conventual gloom--for the summer twilight
filtered but dimly through the stained-glass of the windows--she noted
her friends and acquaintances, and particularly her lover. He was
seated in a distant aisle near a pillar, but could see her plainly
enough, and several times during the service they exchanged glances.
Miss Clyde was there, in the company of Mrs. Drass, but being near the
front of the building, they could not see Lucas. Had they been placed
so as to observe him, Milly would have been more discreet in her
glances; but, feeling safe from observation, she indulged in as many
as she pleased. If Iris noted her looks, she made no sign; for she
looked at her prayer-book constantly.
Shortly Milly's glances alighted on a strange lady, who was staring at
her steadily. She was a brilliant-looking brunette, not very tall (as
Milly could see when she stood up), and dressed in the height of
fashion. Miss Lester wondered who she could be, and why she stared at
her so hard. After a time she returned the gaze, and the eyes of the
two met. At once the strange lady removed her eyes, and glanced at
Lucas; then looked back to Milly in the most meaning manner. Indignant
and bewildered by this pantomime, Milly grew crimson, and tried to
keep her attention on the music; but whenever she looked up the lady
was glancing in the same way from her to Lucas and back again. Lovel
himself did not see the stranger--at all events, Milly did not think
so; but Mrs. Drass had her eyes on the brunette, and was doubtless
alive with curiosity.
When Mr. Chaskin gave out the text, Milly forgot the strange lady; she
forgot Lucas, and Darcy, and everyone else. The only person she
remembered was Gran Jimboy, for the text was "One shall be taken, the
other left," which was the exact expression used by the gipsy at the
time of the hand-reading on the previous day. Milly face grew pallid
with nervous fear, her heart beat rapidly, and she felt that the
atmosphere was too close to breathe. There seemed to be something
ominous in the coincidence of the gipsy's speech and the text; and she
felt that something was wrong; also, the looks of the strange lady
embarrassed her. So, on the impulse of the moment, she rose from her
seat and left the church with all speed.