Entertaining a Stranger
'In all things
Mindful not of _herself, but bearing_ the burden
of others.'--_Longfellow._
It was Sunday evening. Agatha sat by the drawing-room window, her
Bible on her lap, and her thoughts far away from things of earth. All
the rest of the household were at church, and she was enjoying the
stillness around her. The sun was setting just behind the pine trees
in the distance, and shedding a rosy glow upon their slender stems; the
hush of night seemed to be falling on all Nature, and Agatha was so
wrapped up in her thoughts, that she did not notice the figure of a man
quietly and swiftly approaching the house. She was the more startled
when a voice broke upon the stillness; and she looked up to see a man
standing close outside the window.
'Pardon me, madam, but will you kindly allow me to enter? I wish to
have a few words with you.'
Visions of housebreakers, robbing, and perhaps murdering, if their
wishes were denied them, flitted through Agatha's perturbed mind. She
knew she was alone in the house, and beyond the reach of any help; she
also realized that all the three French windows leading out to the
verandah were open; but, nevertheless, she showed a brave front.
Without rising from her seat, she looked the intruder straight in the
face.
'Perhaps, if you will make known your errand, I will comply with your
request. You are at present a perfect stranger to me.'
Her visitor smiled. He was an elderly man, with a stoop in his
shoulders, and a rather shabby great-coat buttoned tight up under his
chin.
'My errand might startle you,' he said; 'I wish to get at something in
the study cupboard.'
Poor Agatha's heart beat loudly. 'That you cannot do without the
owner's consent,' she replied sternly, 'and he is at present abroad.'
Then with a little old-fashioned bow the stranger took off his hat.
'No, madam, he is not abroad. He is before you!'
Agatha stared at him. She saw rather kindly-looking blue eyes peering
at her through thick shaggy eyebrows; a care-worn, smooth-shaven face,
with a very broad intellectual brow, and a smile that somehow or other
disarmed her suspicions.
'Are you--are you sure?' she faltered stupidly.
'Sure that my name is Thomas Lester, and that instead of being a tramp
or burglar molesting a lonely woman, I am now respectfully soliciting
admission into my own house? Yes, madam, I assure you on the honour of
a gentleman that I am no impostor!'
Agatha rose at once. 'Then please come in, and forgive my suspicions.
I never heard of your return.'
'No,' he said, stepping inside and quietly taking a seat; 'I came back
hurriedly, and did not wish my visit here to be known. That is why I
chose to come down from London to-day, for I knew my respected brother
would be safely and piously conducting his devotions in church. Have
you made his acquaintance, Miss Dane?'
'No, he has not called upon us.'
'And you have seen nothing of my son? Do you know my story? I see by
the book that you are reading that you must be a good woman. I know
you are a brave one by my reception. May I confide in you a little?'
Agatha looked up sympathetically.
'We do know something about you,' she said; 'quite enough to make us
feel very sorry for you.'
Mr. Lester then told her again much of what she had already heard, with
additions, which drew out her sympathy still more for him. He told her
that when he reached the farm where his son had been working, he found
he had left it, saying he was going to track out his cousin, and would
never come back till he had found him.
'My journey was fruitless, and then, after making many useless
inquiries, I fancied he might have returned home, as my last letter to
him had urged him to be home again without fail before this summer
would be over. So I came back, and find from my agents in London that
he must be still abroad. My journey out there was a failure; both lads
are swallowed up in the Australian bush, but I don't believe they are
dead, and I am convinced that Alick will never come back without
tidings of his cousin. Their affection for each other was absurd,
preposterous, and utterly out of place.'
He paused, and Agatha asked anxiously:---
'Are you going back to Australia again?'
'I don't know.'
'Perhaps you wish to return here?'
'Not at all. I never will, until things are on a different footing
between myself and my brother. He has insulted me openly in this
neighbourhood; even daring to hint that I have plotted to get rid of
his son! No, I came to get something I want out of my locked cupboard.
I conclude you will have no objection to my doing this?'
'Certainly not'; and Agatha rose and led him to the study. She left
him there, but as she turned away she heard him quietly lock the door
behind her; and again she felt a nervous thrill run through her, as she
wondered if he were an impostor after all.
Half an hour later he came back to her in the drawing-room.
'I am going to do a foolish thing,' he said; 'I cannot tell what impels
me to do it, but the very thing I was going to take away I am
deliberately going to leave here with you.'
'I would rather you took it away, whatever it is,' Agatha said hastily.
'It will not be in your way. I see you are careful tenants, and as
long as you keep my wishes respected about that locked cupboard, it
will be safe; far safer than if I carried it about with me, as I
thought of doing. If you wish to correspond with me at any time, my
agents in London will forward anything to me. I will give you their
card. One thing I am going to leave with you, and this shows the
confidence I place in you. It is the secret of opening that cupboard.
I have sealed the directions up in this envelope; and I want you to
give me your solemn promise that you will keep it as I give it to you,
in trust for my son. When he returns, he will be sure to find his way
down here. Be kind to him, and give him the envelope. I have never
confided to him the secret of the cupboard, and I wish him to open it
as soon as he arrives. It is most important he should.
'You may wonder at my trusting a comparative stranger with such a
charge, but I am a good reader of faces, and I do not think you will
fail me. Promise me you will keep this envelope from the knowledge of
any one, even from your sisters; and promise me you will do what I
desire about it!'
But,' objected Agatha, 'we may not live here always. If we leave
before your son returns----'
'My son is bound to come back before the end of this year, if he is
alive.'
'Then will he wish to come and live here?'
'No. Neither my son nor I will ever live here again, I fancy.'
'Then where will you be when your son returns?'
'I do not know. In my grave, perhaps. I have told you my agents'
address.'
So, after a little hesitation and a great deal of wonder, Agatha gave
him her promise to act as he wished. Seeing he looked tired and worn,
she asked him if he would have any refreshment, but he refused.
'You need not make my visit known throughout the neighbourhood,' he
said, standing up and buttoning up his coat; then glancing at her
Bible, which lay open on the table by her side, he added rather
sarcastically:
'If you want a Bible study, Miss Dane, discover the answer to a
proposition made in the Book of Jeremiah. I believe it's in the first
verse of the twelfth chapter. You see I know my Bible well.'
'And so do I,' said Agatha, smiling, 'though not so well as I ought.
And I can tell you that the same proposition troubled David; but he
solved it in the sanctuary.'
'Is that a hint to me?' said Mr. Lester, a little taken aback by her
quick reply.
'No; though don't you think it a pity to hold aloof from God's worship
on the day set apart for it? Even the heathen are more respectful to
their false gods.'
'I did not expect to receive a sermon here,' he responded, with a
little dry smile.
'No, and I would not presume to give it,' said Agatha, smiling in her
turn. 'And don't be surprised that I knew your verse in Jeremiah so
well. I came across it the other day, and thought it fitted in well
with a favourite Psalm of ours, the thirty-seventh. We have had an
experience something like yours, and it would make one bitter
sometimes, if one did not remember that our circumstances are being
shaped by God Himself.'
Mr. Lester said nothing, but held out his hand, and Agatha took it,
feeling strangely drawn to him. They shook hands, and then, as Mr.
Lester stepped out into the verandah, he turned.
'Remember your promise, and offer a prayer sometimes for a disappointed
old man who fears he won't live to see his hopes fulfilled.'
He disappeared in the fast-falling twilight, and Agatha sat in her
chair, gazing before her as if in a dream. Her sisters found her
strangely preoccupied when they returned; but when they were enjoying a
cold supper together, and the maids were out of the room, she told them
of her strange visitor, begging them to say nothing of it to any one,
and purposely omitting to tell them of the envelope entrusted to her.
'Are you perfectly certain he was genuine?' said Gwen anxiously. 'It
was a very risky thing to let him have sole possession of the study!
Why did you not offer to stay in the room with him?'
'How could I? He locked himself in!'
'Worse and worse! He might have been taking impressions of the locks,
and will break into the house another night by the study window!'
Agatha shook her head with a confident smile. 'He was a gentleman, and
had a true face; I am not at all afraid of him.'
'It is quite an adventure,' said Clare, flushing up with excitement.
'Now, what do you think he wanted to get at in the cupboard? Is it a
treasure store, or does it hide some ghastly secret? I really think I
should have peeped through the key-hole, and seen how he opened it. It
would have been such an opportunity.'
'Did you dismiss him with a tract?' asked Gwen mockingly.
'No, I had not one by me,' said Agatha simply. 'I feel very sorry for
him. He is in great trouble about his son.'
'And you are sure he does not want to come back and turn us out? It
would be very awkward if he did.'
'He seemed quite certain on that point.'
Gwen heaved a sigh of relief. 'I think I will tell you what I purpose
doing, she said rather solemnly; 'or shall I put it off till to-morrow?'
'"'Tis the Sabbath,"' quoted Elfie, mimicking old Deb Howitt's tones.
'If it is anything startling, I would rather you kept it till
to-morrow,' said Agatha; 'I have had quite enough to startle me
already.'
'Oh, very well,' responded Gwen unconcernedly; 'my news will keep.'
But she was disappointed that no one seemed curious enough to press her
for more information, and the next day, after working hard all the
morning in the garden, went off to see the Howitts in the afternoon.
Gwen had taken a real liking to the sisters, and would often drop in
upon Patty, and have a cup of tea with her when her sister was away.
It was a warm day, and she was glad to reach the cottage, with its
shady orchard round it, after the blazing meadows she had crossed.
Under an old apple-tree, on a low stool, she found Patty sitting,
knitting furiously away at a grey worsted stocking, and muttering to
herself as she did so.
'What is the matter?' Gwen asked gaily, as she took a seat on the grass
by her side; 'you look quite agitated!'
''Tis one of our bad days,' said Patty, looking up and shaking her head
dolefully. ''Tis generally the wash-tub that does it, and Monday is
our washing day. I did mean to be careful that my lips didn't offend,
but 'tis no good when she's of an argumentative turn! Yes, miss, she's
locked me out, and I hope she's enjoyin' herself, for on Mondays I
always bakes a cake for tea. Deb never did have a light hand for such
things, and she's a-messin' in there with my flour bin, and pilin' tons
of coal on the fire, for I've been watchin' the smoke, and I can tell,
and if I'm kept out here till dark, I'll maintain a promised wife comes
before a sister!'
'Is that the discussion?' asked Gwen, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
'Now let me put it to you, miss, and she'd no business to begin it over
the wash-tub, for it wants a cool head and a quiet mind to tackle such
things. She was tellin' me of a case that was told her up at
Thornicroft Manor, which is three mile the other side of Brambleton;
and the housekeeper knew the parties concerned, being first cousin once
removed to the young man. He was engaged to be married to an orphan
girl, a-tryin' to earn her livin' by dressmakin', but makin' a very
poor thing out of it. And they had kept company for six years, and
then his mother died and left his only sister on his hands. But mind
you, miss, they were a-goin' to be married, and had fixed the day
before his mother took ill, and then what does the young fellow do but
break it all off with his girl, sayin' he was only able to keep one
woman, and that would have to be his sister! Now what do you think,
miss? I say it was a cryin' shame of him, and Deb, she will have he
did right, for his sister was delicate, and flesh and blood come first,
she says. We argued it up and down, and she cried him up, and I cried
him down, and we gets hotter and hotter. We couldn't keep off it after
we left the wash-tubs and was a-havin' a bit of dinner; but I sticks to
it that a promised wife comes first, and then, with a shove, I found
myself out of doors, and the key locked behind me!'
Gwen laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. Old Patty's intense
interest in the unknown young couple, and her warm partisanship for the
little dressmaker, together with her tragic tone and injured demeanour,
were too much for her gravity.
'You are two foolish old women,' she said at last. 'I suppose it is
love of your own opinions, and not the fate of these strangers, that
makes you so combative. Which of you has the stronger will?'
'Ay, we're wonderful alike in temper, more's the pity, but I consider
myself a fitter judge of right and wrong than Deb, who goes about and
hears so much that it's all hearin' and no meditatin', whiles I sit
here, and has the time and opportoonity to weigh the matters in and
out, without the clack of many tongues to confuse my brain and make me
say a man is a saint when he is a fool, not to say a sinner!'
Nothing that Gwen could say would calm the old woman, and when she went
up to the cottage door, Deb remained conveniently deaf to all her
knocks. She came home, and gave a graphic description of the quarrel
to her sisters; but when their obstinacy was being condemned, Agatha
said in her quiet way:
'Well, Gwen, you ought to have sympathy with them, for if any one ever
goes against you, I am sure you feel as they do.'
'You mean I am fond of my own way and opinions, and won't bear
contradiction! Oh, Agatha, how you love to preach to us all! I won't
say you are mistaken, for I am not going to get up an argument, and I
want you all to be especially agreeable while I lay a plan of mine
before you.'
'Now for it,' murmured Clare; and both Agatha and Elfie leant back in
their chairs, the one in anxious, the other in amused anticipation of
what might follow.