It was the elfish baby-girl Mona who first put me on the track of
the solution of the mystery about Mr. Rayner’s room. This
ill-cared-for little creature, instead of resenting the neglect she
suffered, prized the liberties she enjoyed of roaming about
withersoever she pleased, and sitting in the flower-beds, and in the
mud at the edge of the pond, and making herself altogether the very
dirtiest little girl I had ever seen, and objected vehemently to the
least attempt at judicious restraint. The little notice she got was
neither consistent nor kind. Sarah or Jane would snatch her up,
regardless of her shrieks, to shut her up in an empty bedroom, if she
showed her grimy little face and tattered pinafore anywhere near the
house in the afternoon, when callers might come. But, if they did not
see her, they forgot her, and left her to talk and croon to herself,
and to collect piles of snails, and to such other simple occupations
in her favorite haunts until tea-time, when she generally grew hungry
of her own accord, and, returning to the house, made an entrance where
she could.
The day after the violin-playing was very wet, and, looking out of the
window during lessons with Haidee, I caught sight of her small sister
trotting along composedly without a hat in the fast-falling rain. I
jumped up and called to her; but she took no notice; so I ran to fetch
my umbrella and set off in pursuit. After a little search, I saw her
steadily toddling up a side-path among the trees which led to the
stables; and I followed softly without calling her again, as, if
irritated by pursuit, she might, I knew, plunge among the trees and
surrender only when we were both wet through.
The stables were built much higher up than the house, close to the
road, but surrounded by trees. I had never been near them before; but
now I followed Mona close underneath the walls, where she began
dancing about by herself, making hideous grimaces at two windows on
the upper story, and throwing up at them little stones and bits of
stick that she picked up, all wet and muddy, from the moist earth. I
seized and caught her up in my arms so suddenly that for the first few
moments she was too much surprised to howl; but I had scarcely turned
to take her back to the house when she recovered her powers
completely, and made the plantation ring with a most elfish yell. I
spoke to her and tried to reason with her, and told her it was all for
her good, when one of the upper windows I have mentioned was thrown
open, and Mr. Rayner appeared at it.
“Hallo, what is the matter? Kidnapping, Miss Christie?”
“Oh, Mr. Rayner, she will sit in the mud and open her mouth to catch
the rain without a hat, and it can’t be good for her!” I said
piteously.
“Never mind. It doesn’t seem to hurt her. I believe she is half a
frog,” said her father, with less tenderness than he might have shown,
I thought.
For the child was not old enough to know that it was wrong to dislike
her father, while he was quite old enough to know that it was wrong
not to be fonder of his child.
“But you will get your own feet wet, my dear child,” said he, in quite
a different tone. “Come up here and sit by the fire, while I fetch
your goloshes. You have never seen my studio. I pass half my time
painting and smoking here when it is wet and I can’t get out.” He had
a palette on his thumb and a pipe in his mouth while he spoke. “You
don’t mind the smell of turpentine or tobacco, do you?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Rayner! But I won’t come in, thank you. I am at lessons
with Haidee,” said I.
“Happy Haidee! I wish I were young enough to take lessons; and yet, if
I were, I shouldn’t be old enough to make the best use of my time,”
said he, in a low voice, with mock-modesty that made me laugh.
He was leaning a long way out of window in the rain, and I had work to
do indoors; so, without saying anything more, I returned to the house
with my prize.
It was to his studio then that Sarah had taken his violin. I had never
heard of this studio before; but I knew that Mr. Rayner was very
careful about the condition of the stables, and I could imagine that
this two-windowed upper room, with its fire, must be a very nice place
to paint in--dry, warm, and light. Could this be where Mr. Rayner
slept? No; for in that case he would hardly have asked me to come up
and look at his painting. And I should not like to think that he had
made for himself a snug warm little home here while his family slept
in the damp vapors of the marsh at the bottom of the hill. But that
would not be like Mr. Rayner, I thought, remembering the pains he had
taken to provide a nice dry room just for me, the governess. Yet I
should have liked, in the face of Mr. Reade’s tiresome suspicions, to
be sure.
That night I was so anxious to find out whether Mr. Rayner did really
sleep out of the house, as he had been accused of doing, that I had
the meanness to leave my own bedroom door wide open, as well as that
at the bottom of the turret staircase, and listen for footsteps on the
ground-floor, and the sound of a key in the garden door through which
Sarah had taken the violin. But I heard nothing, though I was awake
until long after the rest of the household must have gone to bed. And
I felt almost as much relieved as if it had been my own father proved
innocent of a mean action imputed to him.
On the following night there was a high wind, which shook and swayed
the trees and whistled round my turret, and made the door which stood
always fastened back at the top of the kitchen-stairs rattle and creak
on its hinges. At last I could bear this last sound no longer. I had
been sitting up late over a book, and I knew that the household must
be asleep, so I slipped downstairs as softly as I could. I had got to
the top of the back-staircase, and had my hand on the door, when I saw
a faint glimmer of light coming along the passage below. I heard no
sound. I drew back quickly, so quickly that my candle went out; and
then I waited, with my heart beating fast, not so much to see who it
was, as because I did not dare to move. The faint light came along
swiftly, and, when close to the foot of the stairs below me, I could
see that it was a shaded lantern, and could just distinguish the form
of a man carrying it. Was he coming upstairs? For the next few moments
I scarcely dared to breathe, and I could almost have given a cry of
joy when, by some movement of the head, I recognized Mr. Rayner. He
did not see me; he put the key in the lock, turned it, took the key
out, went through and locked it after him so quickly and so entirely
without noise that a moment afterwards I could almost have thought
that I had imagined the dim scene. It had been so utterly without
sound that, if my eyes had been closed, I should have known nothing
about it. I made the door secure with trembling fingers, and went back
to my room again, not only profoundly sorry that Mr. Reade’s surmise
was correct--for I could no longer doubt that Mr. Rayner did sleep
over the stables--but impressed with an eerie dread of the man who
could move about in the night as noiselessly and swiftly as a spirit.
When I awoke however in the fresh morning, with the wind gone down,
and the sun shining in through my east window, all unpleasant
impressions of the night before had faded away; and, when Mr. Rayner
brought into the drawing-room after dinner a portfolio full of his
sketches and panels, and was delighted with my appreciation of them--I
knew something about pictures, for my father had been a painter--I
felt that it was not for me to judge his actions, and that there must
be some good motive that I did not know for his sleeping far out of
the damp, as for everything else that he did. He proposed to paint me,
and I gave him a sitting that very afternoon in the dining-room, which
had a north light, though there was not much of it; and he said that
he must finish it next day in his studio, and, when I objected to
neglect my lessons again, he said the whole family should emigrate
thither for the morning, and then perhaps I should be satisfied.
So the next day, at eleven o’clock, he came into the schoolroom with
Mrs. Rayner, who wore her usual air of being drawn into this against
what will she had, and we all four crossed the garden to the stables,
and went up through the harness-room to the big room over the
coach-house, which looked even more comfortable than I had expected.
For the floor was polished, and there were two beautiful rugs, a
handsome tiger-skin, and a still handsomer lion-skin with the head
attached, which Haidee crept up to, drew upon her lap, and nursed all
the time we were there. At one end of the room was a partition, and
behind this partition I guessed that Mr. Rayner slept. There was a
bright fire burning in the tiled fireplace, and there were soft
easy-chairs, rather worn by constant use, but very comfortable, and
there were pictures on the walls, and there was a dark carved-oak
cabinet full of curious and beautiful things, and a writing-table; and
lastly there were the easel and a great confusion of portfolios and
half-finished sketches and studies. Altogether the room contrasted
very favorably with the mouldy-looking drawing-room. Perhaps Mrs.
Rayner thought so as she sat down, with one eager intent look round
the room, as if she had never seen it before; and then, without any
remark, she took out her knitting and worked silently, while I posed
again as I had done on the previous day, with my head on one side, and
my hands, as Mr. Rayner had placed them, clasped under my chin, while
he painted and talked.
“You like those sketches I took in Spain, Miss Christie?”
“Yes--only there are too many nasty black priests prowling about in
them.”
“Oh, you little bigot! Those black figures are just what the hot,
rather glaring Spanish scenes want, to relieve the monotony of bright
colors and sunshine. You must tolerate them from a picturesque point
of view.”
“Very well, but from no other. They remind me of the Inquisition. They
all look like Jesuits.”
“And where is the harm of looking like a Jesuit? I have a partiality
for Jesuits myself.”
“Oh, not really?”
“Really. Why not?”
“They are such sneaking, cowardly creatures, always working by
indirect, underhand means, and leaving their poor tools to bear the
storms they themselves have excited.”
“But the poor tools are fit for nothing else. It is the daring, clever
brain of the Jesuit that weaves the plot; it is on him that the chief
responsibility lies; and that his part of the work has its dangers is
proved by the persecutions and martyrdom that many of his order have
suffered. You cannot conquer everything in this world by the fists
alone; every clever man who has ever made his way--‘got on,’ as the
phrase is--is a potential Jesuit.”
“Well, then, I like the poor fellows who don’t get on, and who have
only their fists, better,” said I decisively.
Mr. Rayner looked at me with a half smile.
“Most women begin like that,” said he dryly.
Of course I felt rather indignant, as every girl does, at being
classed with “most women;” so I said no more, but only pursed up my
lips; and I saw in the white face of Mrs. Rayner, who had been
listening intently to this dialogue, a faint look of amazement at my
presumption.
After two hours’ work, Mr. Rayner called us to look at his sketch,
which represented a very lovely girl with dark gray eyes a little
larger than mine, a red-lipped mouth a little smaller, teeth a little
whiter, and a complexion a little creamier in the white parts and a
little rosier in the red; and the brown hair coiled on the top was
just a little glossier and smoother than mine ever was. It was just a
little like me all the same; and I was rather hurt when Mrs. Rayner
summoned spirit enough to say that he had flattered me, although I
knew it quite well. But Mr. Rayner said gravely that it was impossible
for a portrait to flatter a handsome woman, and Mrs. Rayner raised her
thin shoulders in a slight shrug and turned to leave the room. Haidee
rose to follow her, but paused on the threshold to give a last fond
gaze at the lion and to look round for me.
“You are an excellent model, you sit so still. It is a pleasure to
paint you for that and--for other reasons,” said he slowly and
deliberately, as, without looking up, he went on putting finishing
touches to the head. “What shall I give you as a reward for remaining
so long without blinking or yawning as all professional models do?”
“Nothing, Mr. Rayner; I like having it done. It flatters one’s vanity
to be painted; and flattery is always reward enough for a woman, they
say,” said I, laughing and following Haidee to the door.
“I shall find something more substantial than that,” said Mr. Rayner,
in a low voice, as if half to himself, looking up with a very kind
smile as I left the room.
That afternoon Haidee had just run out of the schoolroom at the
conclusion of her lessons, when Mr. Rayner came in. He held in his
hand an old and shabby little case.
“The poor painter has not forgotten his promise, if he dares to call
it a promise,” said he, with mock humility. “Now see what you have
earned by sitting still.”
He drew me to the window and opened the case, keeping his eyes fixed
upon my face as he did so. The case was lined with old and worn red
velvet, and had evidently not been made for the ornament it contained.
This was a large pendant in the form of a heart, which was a blaze of
what seemed to me the most magnificent diamonds I had ever seen. The
sight of them inspired me not with pleasure, but terror. I drew a long
breath of surprise and admiration.
“It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” said I at last, not
quite able to take in yet the fact that it was meant for me, and
hoping against hope that it was not.
“You like diamonds?” said he, in a low voice.
“They are lovely--the most beautiful of all jewels, I think,” said I,
with a break in my voice.
“Would you like to have your hair and neck and arms covered with
diamonds, like a duchess at Court?” asked he, still very quietly, but
so that I did not know whether he was speaking seriously or in jest.
I looked up and laughed with rather an effort.
“I? Oh, no! I shouldn’t care for diamonds for myself; I should look
absurd in them. Diamonds are for great ladies, not for governesses.”
“Governesses become great ladies sometimes, don’t they?” said he,
returning to his usual light tone.
“I think most of them don’t,” said I, in the same manner.
“Well, without being a great lady, a governess may wear an ornament
she has fairly earned, may she not?”
“Yes, if it has been fairly earned,” said I, trying to keep up a light
tone of talk, though my heart was beating fast.
“And so you can accept this pretty little thing as the reward of your
services to a grateful painter and a _souvenir_ of our pleasant
morning all together in the studio.”
“Oh, no--oh, no--I can’t indeed!” said I earnestly, pushing from me
gently the case he was trying to put into my hand. “Don’t be
offended--don’t be angry with me, Mr. Rayner; but the very thought of
possessing anything so valuable would be a burden to me night and
day.”
Mr. Rayner burst into a long laugh.
“Oh, you simple little creature! I did not think a London lady would
be so unsophisticated as to mistake very ordinary paste for diamonds,”
said he, with much enjoyment. “This pendant, the enormous value of
which frightens you so much, is worth about fifteen shillings. It
wasn’t even worth having a case made for it; see, I have had to put it
into an old case which once contained a brooch. No, no, my dear child,
you need not be alarmed at the mere money-value of the thing, which is
very little. It has a value in my eyes, but for a different reason.
Look here.”
He turned it over, and I saw on the back a monogram, and the date
1792.
“What are the letters of the monogram?”
I read--“R. G. D.”
“‘G. D. R.,’” corrected he--“Gervas D. Rayner--my own initials and
those of my father and grandfather before me. That this belonged to my
grandmother makes its only value. But I have plenty of relics of her;
my wife has jewels enough at the bank which she never wears; so you
are robbing nobody and pleasing one old friend--I may call myself an
old friend already, may I not?--very much by accepting this. In full
family conclave at tea, you shall hear me announce the presentation,
and then you will be satisfied, won’t you, you modest little girl?”
“But I can never wear such a thing as this, if it is only what you
call paste,” I objected.
“Wear it under your dress, and then the blaze of it will dazzle
nobody,” said Mr. Rayner, bending over me and laughing kindly at my
reluctance.
So I took it with most ungracious feelings, which I tried to hide, and
thanked him as well as I could. True to his promise, Mr. Rayner said
to his wife at tea-time--
“I have with the greatest difficulty prevailed upon this proud Miss
Christie of ours to accept as a reward of her services as model a
twopenny-halfpenny trinket, which she almost told me was not fit to
wear.”
“Oh, Mr. Rayner!”
He was putting such a different color upon my reluctance, as if I had
not thought it good enough. And there is a great deal of difference
between fifteen shillings and twopence-halfpenny. I saw Sarah, who was
in the room, look at me very sharply, as if she thought governesses
had no business to wear trinkets at all; and Mrs. Rayner did not look
pleased.
Altogether the beautiful ornament that I had admired so much, but
certainly not coveted, had brought me more annoyance than pleasure. It
procured me one more little trial that very evening. When I got
upstairs, I sat down in the arm-chair which had its back to the door,
took the case out of my pocket, and looked at the ornament. It
certainly was very splendid, and I thought, as I looked at it and made
it flash in the setting sun, that, if this were paste and worth only
fifteen shillings, it was great waste of money to buy real diamonds,
which cost so much more and looked no better. And, as I was holding it
up to the light and feeling at last a thrill of pleasure in its
possession, I heard a voice behind me say--
“So that’s the twopenny-halfpenny trinket, is it?”
Of course it was Sarah. She had come up to bring me some water, and I
had plenty in the jug. Her ironical tone and the hard little sneering
laugh with which she finished her speech were too much for my temper.
I shut up the case, and said coldly--
“Of course Mr. Rayner would not give any one a thing which really cost
only twopence-halfpenny, Sarah.”
“No, miss, not for such services as yours.”
And she said it in such a nasty tone that, when she had left the room,
I threw the case down upon the table and burst into tears.