A PEACEFUL SUNSET
"Upon my word," Evors was saying to Beth, "I feel as nervous as an Eton
boy sent up to the head for a flogging. It is just the same sensation as
I used to enjoy in my schooldays; but I don't care what he says, I am
going to marry you whether he likes it or not, though, of course, he is
bound to like it. No one could look at that dear sweet little face of
yours without falling in love with you on the spot."
Beth demurely hoped so; she pretended an easy unconcern, though, on the
whole, she was perhaps more anxious than Evors, for the latter had
written to his father at some length explaining how matters stood, and
Lord Merton had telegraphed to say that he would be at home the following
afternoon. The afternoon had arrived in due course, and now the wheels of
his carriage might be heard at any moment. Vera and her husband were not
far off; they had promised to come in and give their moral support if it
became necessary.
"I don't see how he can possibly help liking you," Evors went on.
"Thank goodness, we shall be spared the trouble of making a long
explanation. If my father had been against the arrangement he probably
would have done something else besides telegraphing that he was coming;
but I don't care, it doesn't matter what he says, I have quite made up
my mind what to do."
"But you couldn't go against your father," Beth said, timidly.
"Oh, couldn't I? My dear girl, I have been doing nothing else all my
lifetime. I have been a most undutiful son, and I have no doubt that I
have come near to breaking my father's heart many a time, as he nearly
broke the heart of his father before him. In common fairness he will have
to admit that we Evors are all alike as young men; and, in any case, I
couldn't give you up, Beth. Just think how faithful you have been to me
all these years, when all the time it has seemed as if I had a terrible
crime on my conscience. Your father's death--"
Beth laid her little hand upon the speaker's mouth.
"Oh, hush, hush," she whispered. "I implore you never to speak of that
again. They told me, or, at least, that dreadful man told me, that you
had committed that awful deed. He gave me the most overwhelming proofs,
and when I demanded a chance to speak to you and hear from your own lips
that it was all a cruel lie, you were nowhere to be found. This, Fenwick
told me, was proof positive of your guilt. It was such a shock to me
that, for the time being, I lost my reason--at least, I did not exactly
lose my reason, but my brain just seemed to go to sleep in some strange
way. And yet, from first to last, I never believed a word that Mark
Fenwick said. There was always present the knowledge that your name would
be cleared at last, and the most gratifying part of it all is the
knowledge that there can be no scandal, no slanderous tongues to say that
there is no smoke without fire, and those wicked things that sound so
small and yet imply so much."
"Don't let us think of it. Let our minds dwell only on the happy future
that is before us. We shall be able to marry at once; then we can go and
live in the old Manor House by the park gates. The place is already
furnished, and needs very little doing up. Sooner or later you will be
mistress of this grand old home, though I hope that time may not come for
many years. It seems to me--"
But Beth was not attending. She seemed to be listening with more or less
fear to the sound of wheels crunching on the gravel outside. Evors had
hardly time to reassure her, when the door opened and Lord Merton came
in. He was a tall man of commanding presence, a little cold and
haughty-looking, though his lips indicated a genial nature, and he could
not altogether suppress the grave amusement in his eyes.
"This is an unconventional meeting," he said. "I received your letter,
Charles, and I am bound to say the contents would have astonished me
exceedingly had they been written by anybody but an Evors. But our
race has always been a law unto itself, with more or less disastrous
consequences. We have been a wild and reckless lot, but this is the
first time, so far as I know, that one of the tribe has been accused
of murder."
"It is a wicked lie," Beth burst out, passionately. She had forgotten all
her fears in her indignation. "My father was killed by the man Fenwick
and his colleagues. That has all been proved beyond a doubt!"
Lord Merton smiled down upon the flushed, indignant face. It was quite
evident that Beth had made a favorable impression upon him.
"I admire your loyalty and your pluck," he said. "My dear child, many
a woman has risked her happiness by marrying an Evors--not one of
them did so except in absolute defiance of the advice of their
friends. In every case it has been a desperate experiment, and yet, I
believe, in every case it has turned out perfectly happily. It was the
same with Charles's mother. It was the same with my mother. No Evors
ever asked permission of his sire to take unto himself a wife; no
Evors ever cared about social position. Still, at the same time, I am
glad to know that my boy has chosen a lady. When he was quite a young
man, I should not have been in the least surprised if he had come home
with a flaunting barmaid, or something exquisitely vulgar in the way
of a music hall artiste."
Beth laughed aloud. She had quite forgotten her fears now; she was
beginning rather to like this caustic old gentleman, whose cynical words
were belied by the smile in his eyes.
"I am very glad to know that you are satisfied with me," she said,
timidly: "It is good to know that."
"I suppose it would have been all the same in any case," Lord Merton
replied with a smile. "You would have married Charles and he would have
had to have earned his own living, which would have been an excellent
thing for him."
"Indeed, he wouldn't," Beth laughed. "Do you know, Lord Merton, that I am
quite a large heiress in my way. I am sure you won't mind my speaking
like this, but I feel so happy to-day that I hardly know what I am
saying. If you only knew the dread with which I have been looking forward
to meeting you--"
"Oh, they are all like that," Lord Merton laughed. "To strangers, I am
supposed to be a most terrible creature, but everybody on my estate knows
how lamentably weak I am. They all take advantage of me and bully me,
even down to the lads in the stable, and I won't disguise from you the
satisfaction I feel in the knowledge that you have money of your own. For
some considerable time past I have been severely economising with a view
to paying off some alarming mortgages on the estate, so that I should not
have been in a position to allow Charles much in the way of an income. It
will be my ambition when my time comes to hand you over the property
without a penny owing to anybody."
"May that day be a long way off, sir," Charles said, with feeling. "I
hope to assure you how I appreciate the noble manner in which you have
forgiven--"
"Say no more about it, say no more," Lord Merton said. He seemed to have
some little difficulty in the articulation of his words. "Let us shake
hands on the bargain and forget the past. I was profoundly interested in
your long letter, and I must confess to some little curiosity to see your
other friends, especially Mrs. Venner, who seems to have played so noble
a part in the story. I understand that she and her husband are down here.
I suppose you made them more or less comfortable, which must have been a
rather difficult undertaking in the circumstances. However, I have
arranged to have all the old servants back to-morrow, and it will be some
considerable time before I let the old house again. Now run away and
enjoy yourselves, and let us meet at dinner as if nothing had happened. I
don't want it to appear that there has been anything like a quarrel
between us."
So saying, Lord Merton turned and proceeded to his own room, leaving
Beth in a state of almost speechless admiration. It was so different from
anything she had expected, that she felt as if she could have cried for
pure happiness. The sun was shining outside; through the window she could
see the deer wandering in the park. It was good to know that the old dark
past was gone, and that the primrose path of happiness lay shining before
them. Presently, as they wandered out in the sunshine, Vera came on the
terrace and watched them. There was no need to tell her that the
interview with the master of the house had been a smooth one. She could
judge that by the way in which the lovers were walking side by side.
Venner came and stood by his wife's side.
"So that's all right," he said. "As far as one can judge, they have
managed to propitiate the ogre."
"What do you mean by calling a man an ogre in his own house?" the voice
of Lord Merton asked at the same moment. "For some few minutes I have
been keeping an eye on you two, but I suppose I must introduce myself,
though you will guess who I am. Mr. Venner, will you be good enough to do
me the honor of introducing me to your wife? I have heard a great deal of
her from my son. Mrs. Venner, if you will shake hands with me I shall
esteem it a great favor."
"Then you are not annoyed with us?" Vera asked. "You are not displeased
at the way we have taken possession of your house? I am afraid that
indirectly we have been the cause of a great scandal."
"Oh, don't worry yourself about that," Lord Merton, said breezily. "There
have been far worse scandals than this in great houses before now; and,
at any rate, it does not touch us. I am afraid you have been rather
inconvenienced here, and that the Grange has not upheld its reputation
for hospitality. Still, I hope it will be all right to-morrow, and I
sincerely trust that you can see your way to stay here for some little
time to come. I am going to ask my sister, Lady Glynn, to come down and
act the part of hostess. Somebody will have to introduce Beth to the
county as my future daughter-in-law."
"You are pleased with the arrangement?" Vera asked, demurely.
"Indeed, I am," Lord Merton cried. "You do not know what an eccentric lot
we are. I should not have been at all surprised if Charles had come home
with some curiosity in the way of a bride, and I am only too profoundly
grateful to find that he has made so sweet a choice. But, tell me, you
will stay here some little time--"
"I am afraid not," Venner, said regretfully. "If you will allow us to
come back a little later on, I am sure that my wife and myself will be
very pleased. I have no doubt that Evors will be impatient to claim his
bride, but I hope he will wait for a month or two at least. You see, I
have a bride of my own, though, in a way, we are old married people. I
don't know whether Charles told you anything of our story, but if you
would like to hear it--"
Lord Merton intimated that he had already done so. He expressed a hope
that Venner and his wife would return again a little later on; then,
making some excuse, he returned to the house, leaving Venner and Vera
together. For some little time they wandered across the park very
silently, for the hearts of both were full, and this was one of those
moments when words are not necessary to convey thought from one mind to
another. Presently Evors and Beth appeared in the distance and joined
the others.
"Well," Venner said with a smile, "it is some time since I saw two people
look more ridiculously happy than you two. But I am sincerely glad to
find that the ogre is only one in name. My dear Charles, your father is
quite a delightful person. I quite understood from what you told me that
we had a lot of trouble in store for us. On the contrary, he seems to be
as pleased with the course of events as we are."
"He seems to have altered so much lately," Evors said. "At any rate, he
has been particularly good to me, and I am not likely to forget it.
Behold in me a reformed character, ready to settle down to a country life
with Beth by my side--"
"Not quite, yet," Venner said, hastily. "You will have to curb your
impatience for a bit; you must not forget how Vera has suffered for the
sake of you both, and how patiently I waited for my happiness. You must
promise us that the marriage will not take place under two months, or I
give you a solemn warning that we shall not be there. Our own
honeymoon--"
"Of course Charles will promise," Beth said, indignantly. "Oh, I could
never dream of being married unless Vera were present. And, after all,
what are two months when you have a whole lifetime before you? I am sure
that Charles agrees with me."
"I don't, indeed," Evors said, candidly. "Still, I am not going to be
disagreeable, and Beth knows that she has only to look at me with those
imploring eyes of hers to get absolutely her own way."
They left it at that, and gradually drifted apart again. When Vera and
her husband returned to the Grange, the setting sun shone fully in their
faces, flinging their shadows far behind. Venner paused just for a
moment under the sombre shadow of a clump of beeches, and drew his wife
to his side.
"One moment," he said. "We have not yet decided where we are going. I
have everything in readiness in London, and I suppose that you are not
lacking in the matter of wardrobe. Don't tell me, while having
everything that woman can want in the way of dress, that you have
nothing to wear."
"I won't," Vera said, softly. "My dear boy, cannot you see how glad I
shall be to be alone with you at last? Everything is going well here, and
Beth is entirely happy. You have been very good and patient, and I will
keep you waiting no longer. If you so will it, and I think you do, let it
be tomorrow."
Venner stooped and kissed the trembling lips held up to his. Then very
silently, their hearts too full for further speech, they turned towards
the house.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Mystery of the Four Fingers, by Fred M. White