CHAPTER IV
BETWEEN THE LIGHTS
The day Henry Walter Grey bade good-bye to the young baronet he went home to the Manor House in the best spirits.
That latest stroke of his had proved marvellously successful. In fact, the result completely astonished him. Sir William had been civil, polite, conciliatory to him up to that last interview. During it the young man had thrown aside all reserve and rushed into his arms with enthusiasm. This young man, of whom he had stood in dread a few days ago, had been not only neutralised, but converted into a friend.
And at what cost? The voluntary promise that he, Grey, would take no steps about the will until the return of the head of the house. What a transcendent joke! There was nothing like it on the stage. Nothing approaching it. He had won the young man by undertaking not to invest money already stolen and made away with!
And how had he done it? Not by worrying and sneaking and shivering and anticipating all kinds of evils; not by thinking and attending to his own fears and hopes connected with matters which had been done and could not be undone. No; but by thinking of what other people might do adverse to him, and trying to out-manœuvre them. The general who, upon hearing the enemy is advancing, does nothing but contemplate the horrors of defeat, will inevitably be defeated. It is with matters of business as with a general in the field – to provide against nothing but defeat is to ensure defeat and final disaster. To dread a disease is to open the door for its reception.
Away then for ever with doubts and fears! He was still a player in the game. It was a game of skill, and he must win. The way to win is never to think of yourself or of the result of winning or losing, but to concentrate every human faculty upon the game itself, and the plans for effecting the defeat of your opponents.
And now how did his great game stand? Let him see.
Sir William Midharst would be away in Egypt some while, some months, say three to four months, during which time it was necessary to win, by any means he could employ, this girl Maud. He was the guardian of her fortune and the superintendent of works about to be carried on at the Castle. This gave him not an excuse so much as a command to be frequently there. Thus he should have excellent opportunities of pressing his suit. He was to consult Miss Midharst upon alterations, et cetera; and that supplied the means of obtaining frequent and long interviews with her in which they should often be alone. Good, very good!
He felt strong and healthy and capable. His illness had cleared away the confusion which had been gathering round him; he slept better of nights, and awoke cheerful.
He knew he should be able to interest Maud, and to interest a woman is to win her. Those solemn, lank, poetical men, like the new baronet, took such a time to make up their minds, that a man of sanguine temperament like himself won a woman before one like Sir William determined on the first sigh. Girls don't like sighs; they prefer laughter. Good!
The Bank was all right now, and when he had married Maud there was no one to come and pry into matters. Every one would think by his marriage with her he had acquired upwards of half a million; and for a man in his position to have the reputation of riches is almost as good as to have riches. Splendid!
He had provided against injury arising out of that sale of the lease and furniture and annuity. He had not been in a position to resist his mother. He knew that, having made up her mind to sell, she would sell, no matter what it cost her feelings. She would threaten to denounce him rather than be baulked in doing what he supposed she intended with the money. He did not think she would have gone the length of denouncing him. She had done worse. She had shown herself indifferent to anything he might have to say. She could not know but that letter of his told her he had paid back all the money, or that it contained a plea for a short respite. She had not cared what happened to him; and he – he had taken means to protect himself. He did not feel angry with her in the least. He had simply cut her off from his mind. There was no such person any longer. That returned letter informed him of her death. Those documents he had signed for her were announcements of her decease. That auction bell would ring for the interment of the past and the future which had of late given him trouble. With her went everything he loved. He was alone now, face to face with his fate, and free from any unmanning influence or depressing considerations. This was best of all!
As to the other and greater danger, that was scarcely worth counting. So far there had not been the shadow of menace. Farleg had, no doubt, got out of the country, and was now settled with his wife somewhere out West. No reason existed for supposing Farleg would betray him; for he had taken hush-money, and no reward had been offered, as nothing had been suspected. No; he need not fear that source. Only one thing remained to be done. He had shaken off those superstitious terrors which had haunted him for a while. He was still menaced by the cancelled pages in London; that was the only danger ahead. All his energy for the future should be directed towards avoiding the consequences of his theft.
The day Sir William left Daneford Grey spent at the Bank. His private correspondence and such account-books as he himself kept, to which no one but himself had access, were in arrears, and had to be brought up to the current day. He had to give a long audience to Mr. Aldridge, and several merchants wanted to see him, so that the hours were fully occupied, and when he got home he felt tired; it was dark, and he resolved not to go to the Island until the early part of the next afternoon.
When next day he got to the Castle, he found Mrs. Grant in the great hall about to go out.
"I am lucky to meet you, Mrs. Grant. If you are not in a great hurry I should like a few words with you."
"Certainly, Mr. Grey; I shall be most happy. I am going to town for a few things Miss Midharst and myself want. I have not been out since poor Sir Alexander's death; but I'm in no hurry."
They were now in the open air.
"I hope Miss Midharst is quite well?"
"Quite well, thank you."
"And not pining after her handsome cousin?" with a gay smile.
"Handsome! Do you too think him handsome?"
"Yes. But who else thinks him good-looking?" with a still brighter smile.
"Miss Midharst says he is one of the handsomest men she ever saw."
"Upon my word I am inclined to believe with her." This was accompanied by the brightest smile of all. "It is useful to know what she thinks of her cousin's appearance," thought Grey gravely.
"Well, Mr. Grey, I can see nothing handsome about him. I like an Englishman to look like an Englishman; but I forgive him his looks because of his good behaviour. Nothing could have been better than his conduct from first to last. He makes Miss Midharst stay here; he promises to do up the Castle and grounds; and last of all, Mr. Grey, he speaks of you before he goes away in words which do him credit."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. Nothing could have been more manly than the way he spoke his mind to Miss Midharst and myself about you the other evening, the last day you were here. I don't think he liked you at first; but he made up for that at last. Nothing could be better than what he said."
"I am glad to find he does not misunderstand me." These were two useful and significant facts: that Maud thought her cousin good-looking, and that her cousin had been favourably impressed by him. "Mrs. Grant," he said, after a pause, "you said you were going to town to buy some things for yourself and Miss Midharst."
"Yes."
"Will you have the goodness to put this parcel in your purse? It is what you are entitled to under the will of Sir Alexander."
He held out his hand to her with a bundle of notes.
"I really don't want it now, Mr. Grey," she said, remembering what Sir William had told her.
They had already reached the Ferry-slip. He held out his hand to her. She held out the notes to him. He smiled, shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and said:
"Give me your hand only. I want to help you into the boat. Put that bundle in your pocket. I hope you do not think I want it."
He handed her into the boat, raised his hat, and, when the ferryman had pulled a dozen strokes from the slip, raised his hat again and turned towards the Castle.
As he walked he thought: "That is not the worst investment I ever made. Prompt payment and attention go a long way with women who are no longer young. Now for a woman who is young and charming."
"What an agreeable man Sir William is!" said Grey, when he had been some time seated with Maud. "So affable, good-natured, and amusing. He is one of the most pleasant young men I ever met."
"I am glad you like him," said Maud, a little surprised.
"Like him! Of course I do. He is a man after my own heart. So open-minded and full of go, of animal spirits. You very seldom find a man who has been long out of Europe retain his animal spirits. The inhabitants of Asia and Africa are always afraid of sunstroke or snakes, tigers or tyrants. In the tropics no one ever makes a joke. Life is always serious there. Who ever heard of an Eastern Joe Miller? No; they have proverbs and poetry, but no jokes. When you are always expecting to find a snake coiled round the leg of the table, or an official waiting outside the door with a drawn sword to cut off your head, you are afraid to laugh. Now what I admire most in Sir William is that, although he has been long in Africa, he has kept his animal spirits unimpaired. Isn't it a great blessing?"
"Yes," answered Maud, in amazement.
"I know it is not what very straitlaced people would like, but the views he holds of all serious things are most diverting. I am very sorry I had to go away while he was here. It is such a privilege to meet a man like him – a man of the world who knows everything, and can laugh at the weaknesses and follies of the world, under which heads of weaknesses and follies he classes much of what smug respectability calls the Generous and Noble Aspirations of Men. I will not say I hold his views, but I hold my sides when he tells them. Did you hear any of his stories?"
"No, Mr. Grey," answered Maud, ready to cry. Was there really this other, this light and frivolous side to her cousin's character? She could hardly believe it. Yet here was Mr. Grey telling her about it, and no one could think of doubting Mr. Grey's word.
"Ah! Quite so. Yes. It is likely he thought you might not care for them. They might seem profane to you. I have been most unwise. I felt sure he had told them to you. He might be displeased with me if he knew I had mentioned them to you. Will you promise not to allude to them when you speak or write to him? I daresay he will write to you, and you will write to him."
"He promised to write, and I promised to write to him."
What a revelation was in the banker's words! Could it be her cousin had two sides? If it was so, where did the insincerity end? This was a miserable discovery after she had lifted him up in her mind as a perfect model of what a man should be.
"Of course you will write to your guardian and your only cousin; but mind you are not to say anything about what I have been saying to you. I should not mind speaking of it to him in your presence, but a thing of that kind in black and white looks very bad. Have you heard from him yet?"
"Yes; I got a note saying he was about to set off. It was written yesterday."
Her face looked wan and weary. It was disenchanting to hear all this of Cousin William. How could it be?
"A bad sign. A very bad sign," thought the banker. "But we must be a match for him. We must be a match for him. No precaution shall be neglected." Then he said aloud: "I shall be very often at the Castle now; for not only shall I have to come and see you, but I am also to look after the workmen for Sir William, so that I fear you will have to make up your mind to endure a great deal of me."
"I shall be very glad to see you every day. But I think you are doing too much for me – for us."
"Miss Midharst, you must understand once for all that there is absolutely nothing in my power I am not anxious to do for you personally."
He said this with great emphasis and precision, raising his right hand slightly towards the ceiling while he spoke, as though calling Heaven to witness his words.
She did not know what to say. There was an earnestness in his manner forbidding commonplace thanks.
His face suddenly lightened.
"I was about to say that either I or a messenger from the Bank will be here every day, and whoever comes can take any orders you and Mrs. Grant may have for town. This will save Michael's going in so often. I will get you a letter-bag. You shall keep one key and I the other, so there will be no danger of letters getting lost. In old times Michael was, of course, as safe as the post; but now we shall have comparative strangers – clerks and so on – whose honesty has not been so well tried as Michael's."
Soon he took his leave. Next day he did not call, but a clerk came with a letter-bag and a key. There was nothing in the bag. Miss Midharst had no letters. One from Mrs. Grant went back to town. That was all.
When the clerk got to the Bank, he handed the bag to the banker. The banker opened it, glanced at the one letter it contained, smiled, put Mrs. Grant's among his own letters for post, and whispered to himself: "Everything is fair in love and war. If this had been Maud's, I should have had just one peep."
Now he began to visit the Castle almost daily. The men had not yet been set to work, but already the furniture makers and upholsterers were busy in the work-shops. Hangings had been ordered at Paris; designers were carrying out plans for restoring the great banqueting-hall to its olden splendour; brass-founders were casting fittings; and gardeners had inspected the grounds with a view to ascertaining their capabilities.
At first Grey made it a point not to see Maud every time he called. By the end of a month he was at the Island six days out of the seven, and never left without seeing her.
During that month she had twice written to her cousin. He had carried the letters from her to the Bank, and there opened and read them. He closed them and sent them on. There had been nothing particular in either, beyond copious praise of Grey's great kindness to her, and his ceaseless attention to the business of her cousin.
So far all went well. He continued in good spirits, and the people of Daneford said he had never looked better or seemed gayer.
His mother's place had been sold out, and she had gone he knew not whither.
"That is all the better," he thought. "The stage is clearer, and nothing remains to distract my attention from the main thing."
He had been very cautious in his interviews with Maud. He had said or done nothing which could give her a hint of his aim. He had been good-humouredly and sedulously careful to do all she wished as she wished it done. He had taken her and Mrs. Grant for drives in quiet country places, where the freshness of their mourning would be free from observation and remark. On these occasions, although Maud occupied the seat of honour, he was more attentive to her companion.
But the time for winning had a limit, and at the end of the first month he gradually changed his manner.
When they met he gazed into her eyes longer and with more interest than of yore. He pressed her hand more warmly, and retained it longer. His voice, when he spoke to her, was lower and softer. His solicitude for her health gained daily, and when they walked out into the grounds together, he chose for her the easiest ways, and showed his anxiety that her feet should not touch the wet grass, or the ragged brambles her face or figure.
He prolonged his visits. He always found an excuse for getting her out into the grounds, or into some room where for a time they might be alone. When parting from her, he would say, if no one was by:
"I am sorry I must leave now. I am sorry I am obliged to go back to Daneford and that lonely Manor. I wish I could stay here."
And she would say:
"I am sure, if you will stay, Mrs. Grant will make you comfortable. But you lose too much time for us."
He would answer:
"No. Oh no, dear Miss Midharst. The only pleasant time I have now is when I am here, in your society, trying to make this place better for you."
Then he would say good-bye impressively, and move off with a dejected look, and turn round, when he had taken a few paces, and wave his hand to her in a way that said: "Do not grieve because I am sad. I am nobody."
This manner set the girl pondering, and she said to the widow one day:
"Mrs. Grant, I think living all alone in that house, where his wife was once, is bad for Mr. Grey."
"There is no doubt of it, my child. It will kill him, I am sure. He ought to marry again soon."
"Marry again soon!" cried the girl in surprise. The idea that he might marry again had never suggested itself to her mind, and it seemed very wonderful.
"Yes, my dear. He's a young man. A much younger man than many men of thirty."
"I know he is very amusing, but I had never before thought of Mr. Grey marrying again."
To Maud the idea was not only novel, but a little shocking at first. She had been in the habit of classing him with her father. Now for the first time she had come to think of him as a man who was not only not nearly so old as her father, but relatively young.
All at once the recent change in his manner towards her struck her, and, little as had been her experience of the world, or her knowledge of its ways, she could not but see a desire on Mr. Grey's part to be particularly agreeable to her. This, coupled with the fact that she could no longer regard him as a man the events of whose life were merely awaiting the final audit to be posted into the eternal ledger, made her feel an awakened interest in him. He was a new man, an individuality hitherto unexplored.
Another thing struck her at the same time.
Her cousin, whom she had taken as a grave, serious-minded, chivalric soul, turned out to have two sides to his character. When not with her, he could be light, trivial, profane.
The banker also had two sides to his character. He was robust, honest, jovial, in general. But at home sorrow and loneliness were eating him away in the house where once he had been happy with the wife so suddenly taken from his side.
What a strange discovery! Were all men who were not as old as her father double-sided like these? She should not like to ask even Mrs. Grant that question. Then what a contrast did these two men afford: the one assuming or wearing naturally towards her the manner of earnest collectedness, while towards others he showed questionable levity; the other showing her a steady brightness, while in reality his heart was consumed by a great sorrow! Were all men like these? How wonderful it seemed!
The contrast revealed to her by these two men first aroused Maud Midharst to perceive men's minds and ways differed widely from the minds and ways of women. Of old she had known men were stronger than women, had greater capacity for affairs, more knowledge of the world and more wisdom. Until now she had never reached the fact that there were in the minds of men faculties differing from those of women, not only in quality and intensity, but also in kind. Instantly her wonder at the superiority of men left her. She no longer felt astonished at disparity between mental faculties common to men and women. She suddenly awakened to a curiosity never felt before. She was now interested in all things which enabled her to discover where the thoughts of men differed from the thoughts of women.
When she had heard her cousin speak on the day her father was buried, she had felt surprise and interest. What he said had given her a pleasant shock. Now she had gone a post farther on the great road of life. She had learned to speculate.