It may have been her husband, she thought, and trembled. The curtains up in the drawing-room were moved as by a hand; but where was Dahlias face? Dahlia knew that they were coming, and she was not on the look-out for them!a strange conflict of facts, over which Rhoda knitted her black brows, so that she looked menacing to the maid opening the door, whose Oh, if you please, Miss, came in contact with My sisterMrs., she expects me. I mean, Mrs. but no other name than Dahlia would fit itself to Rhodas mouth.
Ayrton, said the maid, and recommenced, Oh, if you please, Miss, and you are the young lady, Mrs. Ayrton is very sorry, and have left word, would you call again to-morrow, as she have made a pressing appointment, and was sure you would excuse her, but her husband was very anxious for her to go, and could not put it off, and was very sorry, but would you call again to-morrow at twelve oclock? and punctually she would be here.
The maid smiled as one who had fairly accomplished the recital of her lesson. Rhoda was stunned.
Is Mrs. Ayrton at home?Not at home? she said.
No: dont ye hear? quoth the farmer, sternly.
She had my letterdo you know? Rhoda appealed to the maid.
Oh, yes, Miss. A letter from the country.
This morning?
Yes, Miss; this morning.
And she has gone out? What time did she go out? When will she be in?
Her father plucked at her dress. Best not go making the young woman repeat herself. She says, nobodys at home to ask us in. Theres no more, then, to trouble her for.
At twelve oclock to-morrow? Rhoda faltered.
Would you, if you please, call again at twelve oclock to-morrow, and punctually she would be here, said the maid.
The farmer hung his head and turned. Rhoda followed him from the garden. She was immediately plied with queries and interjections of wonderment by Miss Wicklow, and it was not until she said: You saw him go out, didnt you?into the cab? that Rhoda awakened to a meaning in her gabble.
Was it Dahlias husband whom they had seen? And if so, why was Dahlia away from her husband? She questioned in her heart, but not for an answer, for she allowed no suspicions to live. The farmer led on with his plodding country step, burdened shoulders, and ruddy-fowled, serious face, not speaking to Rhoda, who had no desire to hear a word from him, and let him be. Mary Ann steered him and called from behind the turnings he was to take, while she speculated aloud to Rhoda upon the nature of the business that had torn Dahlia from the house so inopportunely. At last she announced that she knew what it was, but Rhoda failed to express curiosity. Mary Ann was driven to whisper something about strange things in the way of purchases. At that moment the farmer threw up his umbrella, shouting for a cab, and Rhoda ran up to him,
Oh, father, why do we want to ride?
Yes, I tell ye! said the farmer, chafing against his coat-collar.
It is an expense, when we can walk, father.
What do I care for th expense? I shall ride. He roared again for a cab, and one came that took them in; after which, the farmer, not being spoken to, became gravely placid as before. They were put down at Boynes Bank. Anthony was on the look-out, and signalled them to stand away some paces from the door. They were kept about a quarter of an hour waiting between two tides of wayfarers, which hustled them one way and another, when out, at last, came the old, broad, bent figure, with little finicking steps, and hurried past them head foremost, his arms narrowed across a bulgy breast. He stopped to make sure that they were following, beckoned with his chin, and proceeded at a mighty rate. Marvellous was his rounding of corners, his threading of obstructions, his skilful diplomacy with passengers. Presently they lost sight of him, and stood bewildered; but while they were deliberating they heard his voice. He was above them, having issued from two swinging bright doors; and he laughed and nodded, as he ran down the steps, and made signs, by which they were to understand that he was relieved of a weight.
Ive done that twenty year of my life, brother William John, he said. Eh? Perhaps you didnt guess I was worth some thousands when I got away from you just now? Let any chap try to stop me! They may just as well try to stop a railway train. Steams up, and Im off.
He laughed and wiped his forehead. Slightly vexed at the small amount of discoverable astonishment on the farmers face, he continued,
You dont think much of it. Why, there aint another man but myself Boynes Bank would trust. Theyve trusted me thirty year:why shouldnt they go on trusting me another thirty year? A good character, brother William John, goes on compound-interesting, just like good coin. Didnt you feel a sort of heat as I brushed by youeh? That was a matter of one-two-three-four Anthony watched the farmer as his voice swelled up on the heightening numbers: five-six-six thousand pounds, brother William John. People must think something of a man to trust him with that sum pretty near every day of their lives, Sundays exceptedeh? dont you think so?
He dwelt upon the immense confidence reposed in him, and the terrible temptation it would be to some men, and how they ought to thank their stars that they were never thrown in the way of such a temptation, of which he really thought nothing at allnothing! until the farmers countenance was lightened of its air of oppression, for a puzzle was dissolved in his brain. It was now manifest to him that Anthony was trusted in this extraordinary manner because the heads and managers of Boynes Bank knew the old man to be possessed of a certain very respectable sum: in all probability they held it in their coffers for safety and credited him with the amount. Nay, more; it was fair to imagine that the guileless old fellow, who conceived himself to be so deep, had let them get it all into their hands without any suspicion of their prominent object in doing so.
Mr. Fleming said, Ah, yes, surely.
He almost looked shrewd as he smiled over Anthonys hat. The healthy exercise of his wits relieved his apprehensive paternal heart; and when he mentioned that Dahlia had not been at home when he called, he at the same time sounded his hearer for excuses to be raised on her behalf, himself clumsily suggesting one or two, as to show that he was willing to swallow a very little for comfort.
Oh, of course! said Anthony, jeeringly. Out? If you catch her in, these next three or four days, youll be lucky. Ah, brother William John!
The farmer, half frightened by Anthonys dolorous shake of his head, exclaimed: Whats the matter, man?
How proud I should be if only you was in a way to bank at Boynes!
Ah! went the farmer in his turn, and he plunged his chin deep in his neckerchief.
Perhaps some of your family will, some day, brother William John.
Happen, some of my family do, brother Anthony!
Will is what I said, brother William John; if good gals, and civil, and marry decentlyeh? and he faced about to Rhoda who was walking with Miss Wicklow. What does she look so down about, my dear? Never be down. I dont mind you telling your young man, whoever he is; and Id like him to be a strapping young six-footer Ive got in my eye, who farms. What does he farm with to make farming answer now-a-days? Why, he farms with brains. Youll find that in my last weeks Journal, brother William John, and thinks I, as I conned itthe farmer ought to read that! You may tell any young man you like, my dear, that your old uncles fond of ye.
On their arrival home, Mrs. Wicklow met them with a letter in her hand. It was for Rhoda from Dahlia, saying that Dahlia was grieved to the heart to have missed her dear father and her darling sister. But her husband had insisted upon her going out to make particular purchases, and do a dozen things; and he was extremely sorry to have been obliged to take her away, but she hoped to see her dear sister and her father very, very soon. She wished she were her own mistress that she might run to them, but men when they are husbands require so much waiting on that she could never call five minutes her own. She would entreat them to call tomorrow, only she would then be moving to her new lodgings. But, oh! my dear, my blessed Rhoda! the letter concluded, do keep fast in your heart that I do love you so, and pray that we may meet soon, as I pray it every night and all day long. Beg father to stop till we meet. Things will soon be arranged. They must. Oh! oh, my Rhoda, love! how handsome you have grown. It is very well to be fair for a time, but the brunettes have the happiest lot. They last, and when we blonde ones cry or grow thin, oh! what objects we become!
There were some final affectionate words, but no further explanations.
The wrinkles again settled on the farmers mild, uncomplaining forehead.
Rhoda said: Let us wait, father.
When alone, she locked the letter against her heart, as to suck the secret meaning out of it. Thinking over it was useless; except for this one thought: how did her sister know she had grown very handsome? Perhaps the housemaid had prattled.
CHAPTER XI
Dahlia, the perplexity to her sisters heart, lay stretched at full length upon the sofa of a pleasantly furnished London drawing-room, sobbing to herself, with her handkerchief across her eyes. She had cried passion out, and sobbed now for comfort.
She lay in her rich silken dress like the wreck of a joyful creature, while the large red Winter sun rounded to evening, and threw deep-coloured beams against the wall above her head. They touched the nut-brown hair to vivid threads of fire: but she lay faceless. Utter languor and the dread of looking at her eyelids in the glass kept her prostrate.
So, the darkness closed her about; the sickly gas-lamps of the street showing her as a shrouded body.
A girl came in to spread the cloth for dinner, and went through her duties with the stolidity of the London lodging-house maidservant, poking a clogged fire to perdition, and repressing a songful spirit.
Dahlia knew well what was being done; she would have given much to have saved her nostrils from the smell of dinner; it was a great immediate evil to her sickened senses; but she had no energy to call out, nor will of any kind. The odours floated to her, and passively she combated them.
At first she was nearly vanquished; the meat smelt so acrid, the potatoes so sour; each afflicting vegetable asserted itself peculiarly; and the bread, the salt even, on the wings of her morbid fancy, came steaming about her, subtle, penetrating, thick, and hateful, like the pressure of a cloud out of which disease is shot.
Such it seemed to her, till she could have shrieked; but only a few fresh tears started down her cheeks, and she lay enduring it.
Dead silence and stillness hung over the dinner-service, when the outer door below was opened, and a light foot sprang up the stairs.
There entered a young gentleman in evening dress, with a loose black wrapper drooping from his shoulders.
He looked on the table, and then glancing at the sofa, said:
Oh, there she is! and went to the window and whistled.
After a minute of great patience, he turned his face back to the room again, and commenced tapping his foot on the carpet.
Well? he said, finding these indications of exemplary self-command unheeded. His voice was equally powerless to provoke a sign of animation. He now displaced his hat, and said, Dahlia!
She did not move.
I am here to very little purpose, then, he remarked.
A guttering fall of her bosom was perceptible.
For heavens sake, take away that handkerchief, my good child! Why have you let your dinner get cold? Here, he lifted a cover; heres roast-beef. You like itwhy dont you eat it? Thats only a small piece of the general inconsistency, I know. And why havent they put champagne on the table for you? You lose your spirits without it. If you took it when these moody fits came onbut theres no advising a woman to do anything for her own good. Dahlia, will you do me the favour to speak two or three words with me before I go? I would have dined here, but I have a man to meet me at the Club. Of what mortal service is it shamming the insensible? Youve produced the required effect, I am as uncomfortable as I need be. Absolutely!
Well, seeing that words were of no avail, he summed up expostulation and reproach in this sigh of resigned philosophy: I am going. Let me seeI have my Temple keys?yes! I am afraid that even when you are inclined to be gracious and look at me, I shall not, be visible to you for some days. I start for Lord Ellings to-morrow morning at five. I meet my father there by appointment. Im afraid we shall have to stay over Christmas. Good-bye. He paused. Good-bye, my dear.
Two or three steps nearer the door, he said, By the way, do you want anything? Money?do you happen to want any money? I will send a blank cheque tomorrow. I have sufficient for both of us. I shall tell the landlady to order your Christmas dinner. How about wine? There is champagne, I know, and bottled ale. Sherry? Ill drop a letter to my wine-merchant; I think the sherrys running dry.
Her sense of hearing was now afflicted in as gross a manner as had been her sense of smell. She could not have spoken, though her vitality had pressed for speech. It would have astonished him to hear that his solicitude concerning provender for her during his absence was not esteemed a kindness; for surely it is a kindly thing to think of it; and for whom but for one for whom he cared would he be counting the bottles to be left at her disposal, insomuch that the paucity of the bottles of sherry in the establishment distressed his mental faculties?
Well, good-bye, he said, finally. The door closed.
Had Dahlias misery been in any degree simulated, her eyes now, as well as her ears, would have taken positive assurance of his departure. But with the removal of her handkerchief, the loathsome sight of the dinner-table would have saluted her, and it had already caused her suffering enough. She chose to remain as she was, saying to herself, I am dead; and softly revelling in that corpse-like sentiment. She scarcely knew that the door had opened again.
Dahlia!
She heard her name pronounced, and more entreatingly, and closer to her.
Dahlia, my poor girl! Her hand was pressed. It gave her no shudders.
I am dead, she mentally repeated, for the touch did not run up to her heart and stir it.
Dahlia, do be reasonable! I cant leave you like this. We shall be separated for some time. And what a miserable fire youve got here! You have agreed with me that we are acting for the best. Its very hard on me I try what I can to make you comfhappy; and really, to see you leaving your dinner to get cold! Your hands are like ice. The meat wont be eatable. You know Im not my own master. Come, Dahly, my darling!
He gently put his hand to her chin, and then drew away the handkerchief.
Dahlia moaned at the exposure of her tear-stained face, she turned it languidly to the wall.
Are you ill, my dear? he asked.
Men are so considerately practical! He begged urgently to be allowed to send for a doctor.