CHAPTER II
"SIR WILLIAM – " "NO; MIDHARST."
"The day after to-morrow I must leave, Maud. I shall have to spend a day or two in London, and then I sail."
He was looking down very gravely at her.
She looked up gravely at him. "I wish you had not to go away."
"So do I, but there is no help for it. I would much rather stay in England and look after affairs here. You never can trust anyone to carry out your plans. You must see the men at work, or they must know you may at any moment see them. I have planned my own designs and decorations, and tradesmen consider it a point of honour to rob an amateur. They will not do what an amateur tells them, and they are sure to cheat him most liberally. The father of a friend of mine determined upon doing up his house himself. He was not a good man of business like me, but, like me, he knew what he wanted done. He made a rough estimate of what the job would cost him, and when it was finished he found the bills came to about three times his estimate. He got an accountant to look through the bills. The first item the accountant called the attention of my friend's father to was six white marble chimney-pieces for bedrooms at two hundred pounds each. He had told the builder to get three chimney-pieces; there were places in the house for only three of the sort. On investigation the builder stated six had been got, three having been broken after arrival. 'But,' said the accountant, 'you have not allowed anything for the old ones. What did they fetch?' 'Oh,' said the builder, 'they fell to pieces, and I broke them up.' Subsequently, when going over the newly-built house of a friend, he found two chimney-pieces, one like his old and one like his new ones. 'Where did you get these?' 'Bought them for a dead bargain. Some man, who heard I was building, sold me the old one for thirty-five, and the new one for seventy.' The visitor asked for a description of the seller. It exactly corresponded with the builder. Subsequently it came out that the new chimney-pieces had been kept buried in sand until they could be removed in a cart under a load of straw, and that the old ones had gone out covered with a layer of rubbish!"
"Do you not think, William, that if Mr. Grey would consent to look after the men, such things might be prevented?"
"Yes; I have thought of asking Mr. Grey. But he is such a busy man. He will have, I daresay, a great deal to do on account of your father's will. It would be too much to expect him to spare time for coming down here and looking after a lot of lazy workmen. In fact, it would be out of the question. As to a clerk of works, or anything of that kind, I would not dream of such a thing. They wink at scamped work for a consideration, and order things they do not want. Dear Maud, I weary you with lime-and-mortar matter."
"No, no, no; I like to hear you talk in this way. It is as if – as if – " She paused, unable for the moment to mould her thoughts into words.
"As if what, Maud?"
"As if you liked to talk to me in this way."
Her eyes were fixed on his, his on hers. For a moment neither spoke. Then he said:
"Yes, I do like to talk to you in this familiar business-way. You know we are alone now in the world; and if I don't talk freely to you, to whom else on earth am I?"
"I had a note from Mr. Grey this morning, saying he has returned, and will be here to-day. Had you not better speak to him?"
"I will. That is settled. If he hesitates, I shall not allow him to do it; but I shall try what he will say. Even if he refuses he may be able to suggest some trustworthy person he knows. You see, I have been so short a time in England, and am such an utter stranger here, I know no one."
When Grey came he found the cousins together. Some routine matters having been disposed of, Sir William asked the banker if he would take a stroll with him across the Island, as he wished to speak to him about business.
The banker would be most happy.
Arm-in-arm the two left the Castle-yard, gained the grass, and walked towards the Ferry.
"Mr. Grey," began the young man, "I leave this neighbourhood the day after to-morrow."
"I am sincerely sorry to hear you say so."
"Thank you. Now I am going to try and induce you to let me get even further into your debt – "
"Sir William, it is quite unnecessary for you to say a word with such a view. I told you to draw for any moderate sum you might require, and your cheque would be honoured – "
"I am much obliged to you; but it is not money this time."
Grey bowed. He wondered: "Has he already proposed, and is he going to talk to me about the will? This looks bad."
"You know what rogues there are in the world?"
"I should think I do. I have excellent cause to know of some kinds of rogues," Grey said. He thought: "This is becoming exciting – diverting."
The banker was in the most excellent spirits this morning. He felt like an unruly schoolboy when the holidays come. He was beyond the arm of physical punishment still, and the phase of mental torture in which he had existed for some time had yielded to his present jovial bravado. His old sense of the ridiculous had returned upon him and expelled self-consideration. While he felt profoundly the necessity for precautions, he was careless as to the means he used, and inclined to estimate nothing as more than a grim joke.
"You see," continued Sir William, "now that I am leaving, I am going to throw myself upon your indulgence and good-nature. You and I have a lot of waiting upon legal forms before we can act officially or authoritatively in the new positions we find ourselves."
"A lot of waiting upon legal forms," assented Grey; and added mentally, "Thank God!"
"But I suppose no one is going to say I am not the right man."
"You may build on that. I daresay" – with a bland humorous smile – "I daresay few have greater interest in disputing your identity (there can be no dispute of your descent) than the representatives of Miss Midharst; and I" – with a bow and deprecating wave of the long arms and white hands – "have no such intention."
"That is all right. Well, now I want to spend the most of that money you were so kind as to advance me on this place" – with a comprehensive sweep of the hand taking in the Castle and all the Island.
"Quite so. I understood that from you before. I do not think you could do better with the money, Sir William."
"I am glad you approve. I not only want your approval, but your co-operation also. Will you help me?"
"To the utmost of my ability."
"I do not intend beginning for a month or so; but as I shall then be away, I shall be unable to ensure the carrying out of my plans unless I can count on the friendly supervision, however slight, of someone who would take an interest in the work of renovation and improvement – "
"And," interrupted the banker with a cordial smile, "you wish to know if I would undertake to see your wishes carried out. Nothing in the world could give me greater pleasure. I do not think you could suggest anything I would more gladly undertake."
"Allow me to explain a little."
"I assure you no explanation is necessary."
"Excuse me, I think it is. It would be the height of impertinence in me to ask you to do anything of the kind, but – "
"But that you know I shall always be only too glad to be of any service to Sir William Midharst."
"You really overwhelm me with your goodness. I feel very much at taking such favours from one who has known me so short a time."
"When people are well met, good-feeling ripens very quickly. Do you, Sir William, believe in love at first sight?"
"Yes," said the baronet, looking up with an expression of surprise and curiosity. "Why?" he asked, in a tone of perplexity.
"Because," answered the banker, "I believe in friendship at first sight; and, if you will allow me to say so, I took a most friendly interest in you from the first moment I saw you and knew who you were."
"Indeed!" murmured the young man, in a tone of reverie. Then, with a faint smile, he added: "I certainly thought we waited a little time to understand one another."
"I have no doubt it appeared so to you; but I was impressed at the very beginning. You must remember the circumstances under which we met. I had no idea who you were, and I was then under the impression the full responsibility of Miss Midharst's guardianship lay on me. In her interest I was bound to be cautious. Believe me, my theory of friendship at first sight is quite as true as that of love at first sight."
"It may be – you may be right. I have never considered the question before. I was about to explain a few moments ago that I could not think of asking you to take any trouble in this matter, only I know you will often be here to see Miss Midharst on business, or through kindness; and I thought perhaps you would not consider it too much trouble to watch how these men get on now and then, once a fortnight or so."
"Rely upon it I shall look after them much oftener than that. You may put your mind perfectly at rest, Sir William. I have some knowledge of things of this kind; a banker meets all sorts of men as customers, and picks up all sorts of odds and ends of knowledge, so that there is scarcely a trade or profession I am not familiar with the roguish side of."
"I must extract one promise from you."
"What is it?"
"That you will not put yourself to any inconvenience in this matter."
"I promise you most unhesitatingly. A little change will do me good, and it will be a most salutary change to come down here now and then and see how things are going on."
"But you really need never come unless you want to see Miss Midharst."
"Quite so."
They separated soon afterwards.
"What luck I have had!" thought Grey, as he drove towards home. "To think of how that young man played into my hands is most amusing, quite comic. He seemed to divine that I wanted an excuse for being as much at the Castle as possible. What more ample pleas for going than that I have to confer with Miss Midharst over matters connected with her father's will, and have undertaken to overlook the works about to be started by Sir William at the Island? Stop! That thought is worth consideration."
For a few minutes he lay back in the fly perfectly still, profoundly absorbed in thought.
"It's worth doing, and I'll do it," was the concluding link in his thoughts.
"Driver!"
"Yes, sir."
"Back to the Ferry again. I have forgotten something."
"All right, sir."
When he arrived at the Castle he asked for the baronet, and found him at once.
"By the way, Sir William, a matter of no absolute importance, but still of some sentimental value to me, escaped my memory when I was a while ago saying good-bye to you, as I thought, for some months."
"And what was that?"
"You know there is no hurry about Sir Alexander's will?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, nothing need be done about it for months."
"What then?"
"You will be back in a few months, less than six?"
"Let us hope so."
"Well, I shall do nothing about the will until you come back. We can then put our heads together and see what is best for Miss Midharst's interest."
"I do not fully understand you, Mr. Grey."
"What I intend doing is this," Grey explained: "I am not bound to do anything immediately about the will. I know the will is all right. I will pay the small legacies myself and get rid of them, and when you come back you and I shall go over the whole matter. I shall prove the will and administer to the estate, and then you and I will consult as to what had best be done for Miss Midharst's interests with the money."
"But what is your object in delay?"
"Just a whim."
"I hope, Mr. Grey," said the young man, with warm indignation, "you have not for a moment fancied I do not think you fully capable in every way of acting in this matter?"
"The shadow of such a suspicion never crossed my mind, I assure you, Sir William. But cannot you understand that the position I occupy of common friend to the two who now compose the house of Midharst would make me desirous of having the advice of the head of the house on important matters, such as the disposal of Sir Alexander's fortune?"
The young man looked fixedly, searchingly, at the banker's face for a moment before he answered. When he spoke, he replied with great deliberateness:
"There may be a good deal in what you say."
"You give me your confidence. You leave me to act as your deputy while you are away. You, in a manner, place yourself in my hands; and you are content with me as the guardian of your cousin's fortune. You rely upon my integrity, upon my honour. I feel the burden I lie under. I should feel less weighed down if you will accept my proposal as a small sign of the esteem I hold you in, and of my simple faith with regard to your cousin's affairs."
The banker held out his hand. He had made his speech in his old and best manner.
The young man caught his hand swiftly, eagerly.
"Grey, I did not hope to find a man like you in you when we met first. I know what stuff you are made of now. We shall be close friends while we live."
"Sir William – "
"No; Midharst."
"Midharst, we shall."
They parted.
When Grey found himself alone once more, he whispered to the leafless trees:
"Now, Mr. Prompter, ring down the drop. That's a very pretty end of the fourth act."
CHAPTER III
THE PARTING
Sir William dined with his cousin that day. He was to say good-bye to her that evening; for, although he did not intend leaving the neighbourhood before the day after next, he had put off some business until the last hour, and had been compelled to give up his remaining day to dry detail and humdrum affairs.
It was only latterly, within the past few days – in fact, since he had come into the neighbourhood of Daneford – he had discovered dry detail and humdrum affairs. Of old details had been to him fascinating, and affairs a passion. When a new subject came to his hand he devoured it. When a novel situation presented itself, he dashed at it as impetuously as a brave soldier at a breach.
Now all was changed. When he saw the Castle first his impulse was to set men at work on it instantly. He wished to have it put in order at once; and nothing but the appearance of indecent haste deterred him from doing so. To-morrow he had to meet, among others, the people to whom he had entrusted the work, and he wished them all at the bottom of the Weeslade.
"I never knew until now I had such a taste for rural scenery. When I was away I used to think that if I got back to England I should spend all my time in London. Now the 'Warfinger Hotel,' overlooking the broad placid Weeslade, seems to me all I could desire, with now and then a visit to the Island – a stroll through its grounds and halls alone, or with Cousin Maud.
"How cool and fresh the air is around here! Coming into a place like this out of the great cities of the world is like escaping from a riotous street into a cathedral where a choir is practising hymns.
"I wonder does she sing? I know she loves pansies best of all the flowers.
"But, as I was saying, it is strange how one's most settled ideas change as one grows older. Of course, that is but natural. When I got that pony first I thought all living creatures must admire and envy me. There was only one thing I envied of those around me, and that was their privilege of standing and seeing such a splendid sight as I and my pony going past. I would freely have given all my possessions, except my pony, for the power of admiring on foot at the roadside the fine spectacle I and my mount made riding by.
"Fancy Sir Alexander not keeping a horse and groom for Maud! He didn't ride of late years, but that is no reason why she should not. She can ride; she told me so. It is too bad to think of the dark seclusion the poor girl has been kept in. I wonder how she lived. Upon my soul it was a shame! There all day long, all the year round, in this gloomy relic of the cold past, with no other change than a few hours in this sleepy place – this humdrum city of Daneford. I am surprised she did not die. It was enough to kill anyone. Fancy passing a whole lifetime away in that old place and this dull town! Monstrous!
"Of course I shouldn't mind it, as I was saying a moment ago, for I have been in the world and seen as much as I want to see. I should feel quite content to live here always. I should never care for anything better than a bed at the 'Warfinger Hotel,' and a stroll now and then about the Midharsts' old place where the Fleureys once lived, a power in the state. But Maud living here! Monstrous!
"I know what I'll do when I come back – I never thought of that before – I'll get the house in St. James's Square put in order, and she and Mrs. Grant shall go up there, and someone will bring out Maud, and she shall be the beauty of the year. All the town will talk of the lovely Miss Midharst. Then I can go and stay at Warfinger and – and see to improvements, and so on; and then if Maud wanted me she can write or telegraph. I can fill up a telegraph-form with only the word 'Come,' and she can keep it in her purse and send it off the moment she wishes to see me. I'll leave word at the telegraph-office in Daneford, that anyone bringing me that telegram in half an hour shall have a sovereign.
"I daresay I could have a wire to the Island, so there need be no delay. But it would look strange. I'll make the messenger's fee five pounds, that will be better.
"I shall keep a portmanteau always ready packed, so that there will be no delay after getting the telegram. Even supposing the telegram does not come for a week or fortnight, I may run up to London to see Maud and Mrs. Grant, and make my mind easy about them.
"While they are away I can have alterations made. I can have all the repairs and alterations done while I am in Egypt overhauled and perfected. Maud may like many things changed; and, of course, anything Maud wants to be done shall be done. Of course. Fancy Maud saying she would like something or other done, and my saying, 'No, Maud; I cannot do that!' Fancy such a thing! I wish she would ask me for something. It is so dull to have nothing to do for Maud.
"Before I knew Maud – it seems a long time, and yet it is only a few days: it is strange to think how long ago my previous life seems – how much time the past ten or a dozen days cover. I have often seen painters, when they had painted-in the solid objects of their pictures, go over parts with thin transparent colour, and, as if by magic, the ruin or the mountain that a moment ago pressed offensively forward retired into its proper place in the composition, and gathered round it mellow repose and forgetfulness. This glaze takes the heat and worry out of the picture. It gives it moist perfume and collected dignity. The few days I have spent here have acted like the glaze on the substantial background of facts in my past life. Why?
"Why? Never mind why; I am content. I like the collectedness that has come upon me. It cannot arise from the title or the estates. I am leaving all the money behind me, and for all practical purposes the title also. When I go away I shall be nothing more than a Government clerk in the foreign service. When I get there, the few Europeans I know may not have heard of Sir Alexander's death. It is not the title or the money. What has done it?
"Before I knew Maud I always fancied anyone called Maud should be young and fragile and exquisitely fair; and my Maud (she is mine, for are we not of the one house?) is young and fragile and exquisitely fair.
"Maud.
"What a musical name it is! The lips and ears never tire of it. The oftener you say it the more beautiful it seems. It is a name you must speak softly. You cannot shout it out or fancy yourself saying it angrily. Imagine for a moment my speaking angrily to my Maud!
"Speaking angrily to Maud! The mere supposition is like a blow. Maud is sanctified to me doubly, as being the last daughter of our family, and as being friendless.
"When I go away I shall leave my fortune and my title behind me. Shall I leave anything else? Yes, everything else. Maud.
"If I leave my fortune and my title and Maud behind me, what do I take with me?
"Nothing worth the carriage.
"Bounteous God, I thank Thee with all my heart, and all my soul, and all the faculties of my nature, for having given love to man, and having given me to love!"
The evening of the day Grey had visited the Island after his return from London, the two cousins sat alone in the little drawing-room after dinner.
"Maud, will you take great care of yourself while I am away?" he asked very earnestly.
She was sitting by a small ebony table in front of the fire. He reclined in an easy-chair at the opposite side of the grate.
She looked up with a childish amused smile, and answered:
"Yes; I will try and take care of myself while you are away. This is a very safe place to live in. No one can get near us without a boat, and everyone knows that a farmer's house would be better for thieves than Island Castle."
"And yet, Maud, though no man come, something very precious might be stolen by a thief while I am away." He spoke gravely, with that old far-away look in his eyes.
"And who is the thief, and what is the thing?" she asked, with a bright smile.
"Ruffian Death," he answered, for a moment overwhelmed by some dark dread and chilling foreboding.
She grew paler in her black dress; the hand resting on the table seemed whiter than life.
"But, William, I am quite well; I never felt better in all my life; and I think, considering what has lately happened, that is very wonderful." She was anxious, and looked into his face with eyes of grave solicitude.
Still he was following up the chain of his thoughts, and for the moment, unaware, he uttered them:
"There is death in every day, danger in every hour; you must encounter the danger. The way in which you meet the danger decides your relations with death. Life is a series of compromises with death. I wish I were not going away."
"So do I, indeed, William," she said earnestly. "But you must not be uneasy on my part; I am quite well, and shall keep quite well while you are away. I should be most unhappy if I thought you went away uncomfortable on my account."
The tone of the girl's voice brought him back to a consciousness of the situation. His manner changed. He looked up at her and smiled.
"Unhappy about you, Maud! Not I. You must not think that. I was talking generalities; I was not alluding to your case. You see, when a man has been a long time in a foreign country, where the speech of the people in the streets is unknown to him, and where, among the few people who speak European languages, there are only a couple for whose society he cares, he falls into one bad habit certainly, that of looking at all things in the abstract; and into another bad habit probably, that of muttering aloud to himself. I am afraid I have been treating you to a small example of both vices." He smiled brightly, and held out his hand to her.
She took the small white hand off the ebony table and placed it in his. The brown fingers closed over the white ones, and looking down at the joined hands he said:
"Like the rough brown sheath of the cocoa-nut, and the snow-white fruit within."
"What?"
"My hand round yours."
She said nothing.
He released her hand.
"You will take care of that hand, Maud, while I am away? Some time someone will value that hand more than the regalia in the Tower. It will be to him above all price. He would like to set guards over it as they set guards over the royal jewels, and yet would allow no one to act as sentinel but himself."
Such talk was new to her. She did not say anything.
"We have grown good friends in the few days we have been meeting one another?"
"Oh, yes."
"The best of friends?"
"The best of friends."
"And all the time I am away you will never cease to think of me as your best friend?"
"Never."
It almost made her cry, she could not tell why, to hear him asking such a question.
"And should you be in any need of aid or advice, you will let me know at once?"
"At once."
There was a pause during which Mrs. Grant entered the room.
The baronet got up, and sitting down beside the widow, said to both the women:
"I had a chat with Mr. Grey to-day apropos of my going, and nothing could have been nicer or more gratifying. He is, without exception, the most straightforward and honourably-minded man I have ever met. He has, Mrs. Grant, not only undertaken to keep his eye on the workmen when they come here, but he has without any hint or suggestion on my part, proposed not to do anything final with Maud's fortune until I return. And, in addition to all this, he will pay all the legacies out of his own pocket and at his own risk. Maud, I cannot say how grateful I am that you have fallen into such excellent hands. You may place yourself wholly under his direction while I am away. You need not consult me on any subject of business; you will be quite safe with him, and he has a thousand times my knowledge of business."
"Did I not tell you so?" asked Mrs. Grant of Miss Midharst.
"Yes," answered Maud softly.
"What was it?" asked the baronet, turning with a gratified smile towards the widow.
"I told dear Maud long ago that she might have full confidence in Mr. Grey," answered Mrs. Grant, with lively self-satisfaction.
"And you told her what was perfectly true. I must go now. I shall not see you again, Mrs. Grant, until I come back from Egypt. I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to know how good, how loyal Maud's two friends are – yourself and Mr. Grey."
He had shaken both Maud's hands, and kissed her lips for the first time, and shaken hands with Mrs. Grant, and was gone.
Her cousin William was gone, and she should not see him again for months. What a pity he had to go! When he was by her side, or in Daneford, she felt quite safe; nothing could harm her while he was near. When her father died she had felt alone and cold in the world. She had been susceptible to attack on all sides. She had no confidence in herself; and although Mr. Grey had done everything man could do for her, she owned no claim upon him.
But this cousin, this man of her own family, who, finding her timid and unguarded, sought the privilege of shielding her from the world and the bleak unknown lying beyond Island Castle – was a new experience, a delightful improvement on the present.
But no sooner had she learned to lean upon his reassuring strength than he must hurry away. What a pity!
Her cousin William would come back, no doubt; but Egypt was far off, very far off, and the power of his protection was reduced greatly by distance.
Why should she think she would need protection of any kind? Surely Mrs. Grant and Mr. Grey were protection enough in a quiet well-ordered place like Daneford and its neighbourhood?
Yes; but Cousin William had been more than a protector; he had been a companion as well, and there was something in his talk and manner neither Mrs. Grant nor Mr. Grey possessed. She was always content with what Mrs. Grant said, or what Mr. Grey said. Their words always exhausted the topic; but when he had spoken she felt led on to wonder what lay behind and beyond what he had said.
She had told Mrs. Grant truly he had interested her; and although he always had spoken to her as though there could be no question of the supremacy of his will over hers, she liked that.
When Mrs. Grant told her to do a certain thing, the doing of it was dry and uninteresting. When Cousin William had told her to do a thing, she always did it with the sound of his voice in her ears; or she had thought what mystery of Egypt he had before his eyes when he gave her the command; or she had tried to fathom his mind as to the manner in which he would best like to see the thing done.
But now all was cold and monotonous and dull. Really the place had got so quiet of late that she found her chief delight in her old books of Egypt, and in the geography of that country, and in following on the map the overland route he had taken to Africa.