The Daughter Pays Part 56

She broke in eagerly. "So have you! How odd! You are quite, quite different from what you used to be. Ever so much nicer!"

"You won't leave off loving me because I am no longer morose and miserable?"

"No, for I am vain enough to believe that, if I ceased to love you, you might again become morose and miserable."

"What have you done to me, Virgie?" he whispered vehemently.

"Turned the Beast into a Prince, that's all," she laughed, her cheek close-pressed to his.

Mrs. Mynors was hopelessly bored. Worthing without Gerald or Virgie was simply too dull a hole. It needed but the news of Gerald's accident to make her feel that her sojourn by the southern sh.o.r.e was unendurable.

Here was Virgie, her beloved child, who had travelled in a totally unfit state of health for a journey, and must now be very ill, since no word had come from her for three days! And here was Gerald, laid up close by, at the Ferrises, longing for some one to cheer him and talk to him in a congenial fashion.

If she travelled to Derbyshire she could gratify her maternal anxiety and her wish to see poor dear Gerald, both at the same time. It struck her as the best plan not to announce her forthcoming arrival. Gaunt was an unspeakable brute, a thorough boor, and would refuse to receive her if she gave him half a chance. But if she arrived _a l'improviste_, with the plea of irresistible maternal solicitude, he could not have his door shut in her face. Besides, such a move would put an end, once and for all, to his intolerable att.i.tude towards herself.

Virgie, by flying in the face of her mother's wishes and going back to him, had, of course, settled her own fate. She had insisted upon returning, and now she must stay. It would be a pretty state of affairs indeed if it should get about that Gaunt declined to receive his mother-in-law. Seeing that for her to exist upon the pittance provided was out of the question, she must spend about three months in every year at Omberleigh; and this was most evidently the moment to make a definite coup and show Osbert that she meant to stand no nonsense. To have her in the house would give her poor child courage to stand up to the tyrant. She would soon mend his manners for him, if she once found herself established under his roof.

It was a wild, cold, stormy afternoon when she alighted at the station; and upon learning the distance to the house and the price demanded by the fly-driver for the journey, she rather regretted her decision to come unannounced. However, there was no help for it, so she and her luggage were placed in and upon the vehicle, and they trundled off in the fast-falling, gusty rain.

Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt, since the acquisition of the car, had made use of Derby as their point of departure. Thus, at the local station, n.o.body was able to tell Mrs. Mynors that they were away.

She thought she had never seen more desolate country than that which they presently traversed. It seemed to her that they had driven for hours when at last they came to a lodge and a drive gate, blocked by a great cart full of bricks.

A young man in riding clothes was standing by the roadside and addressing vigorous reproof to the driver of the cart, who had knocked against the gate-post with his wheel. This young man stared in mute astonishment at sight of the carriage from the station, and the lady with two or three large trunks. He said nothing, however, and after some delay they pa.s.sed through and on, along the now almost pitch-dark avenue.

In the centre of the gravel sweep was a place where they were mixing mortar. The men were just striking work for the day, and upon the front doorsteps sacking had been laid down. Within was a scene of the utmost confusion--partially stripped walls, canvas-covered floor, heaps of boards, tubs and trestles.

"Good gracious!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the visitor in horror. "Is this what my child is called upon to put up with?"

The driver descended and rang a jangling peal upon the bell. After some delay, Hemming, in a linen coat, with a green baize ap.r.o.n, came in astonishment to the door.

"Is Mrs. Gaunt at home?" demanded the lady regally.

"No, ma'am, she is not."

"Mr. Gaunt, then?"

"No, ma'am; they are both away--and likely to be for some time to come."

"Away? Do you mean that they will not be home any time to-day?"

"Not for some weeks, ma'am, as I understood. They talk of being home for Christmas," said Hemming mildly, gazing with apprehension at the driver, who showed signs of being about to unload the trunks.

"You must be misinforming me. I am Mrs. Gaunt's mother. Had they been leaving home, I should certainly have been made aware of their plans. I insist upon coming in. I believe that Mr. Gaunt has given you instructions to say they are not at home to visitors, but that will not apply to me."

"I a.s.sure you, ma'am, that Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt left on Monday for the continong--what part I do not as yet know."

"Did Mrs. Gaunt take Grover with her?"

"She did not, ma'am. Perhaps you would like to see Miss Grover?"

"Send her to me at once," was the reply, while the speaker's heart swelled with resentment. He had taken Virgie away, somewhere out of reach, out of touch with those who loved her! What might she not be enduring?

Grover presently came along the dismantled hall. She wore an expression of complacency which made Mrs. Mynors feel ready to strike the woman.

"I come here," she began, "to see how my poor daughter is, and I find she has been hurried away, n.o.body knows where. What information can you give me?"

Grover wiped her hands upon her ap.r.o.n doubtfully. Evidently she had been engaged upon the work of packing up the house ready for the onslaught of the British workman.

"Dear me, ma'am, what a pity you didn't send a wire to say you was coming! I could have saved you the trouble," said Grover. "Mrs. Gaunt is very well indeed, and Mr. Gaunt and she is gone off upon their honeymoon, ma'am. I daresay they'll be away a couple of months."

"I suppose I may at least claim shelter for the night in my daughter's house?" demanded Mrs. Mynors with a voice which shook with mortification.

"Well, ma'am, I don't hardly know where we could put you," was the meek reply. "The whole house is upset, for it is to be redecorated from top to bottom. I do really think, ma'am, that you would be more comfortable at the station hotel. We are all upside down, as you can see." She turned to the butler. "Hemming," said she, "wouldn't it be better if you was to pay the driver and let him go? Then we can give Mrs. Mynors a cup of tea, as I know Mrs. Gaunt would wish, and send her down to Derby in the car, to catch the late express to town. Wouldn't that be best, ma'am?" As Mrs. Mynors hesitated, she added: "There's but one room in the house fit for you to sit down in, and that is Mrs. Gaunt's boodwor. I have been so busy helping above stairs, I haven't had a minute yet to pack it up. This way, ma'am."

Feeling that opposition was useless, Mrs. Mynors picked her dainty way along the hall, while Hemming paid off the fly-driver and lifted the trunks into the entrance, out of the rain. Grover, as she went, kept up a running fire of information.

"A dark pa.s.sage, ma'am, but you will see a great difference when the alterations are made. A window is to be knocked through here, and the bushes outside cleared away, and a bit of a Dutch garden put in, so Mrs. Gaunt tells me. This is her own room, ma'am, that Mr. Gaunt had done up for a surprise for her when she come home. She was pleased, too. I never see her so delighted, pretty dear."

Mrs. Mynors walked in. The last ray of sunshine slanted over the wide landscape without, and gilded the delicate colouring of the room. She stood there, noting every detail.

"I wish you could have seen her, ma'am, the night before they started off," purred Grover. "Lady St. Aukmund, she give a dinner-party in her honour, and Mr. Gaunt had had all the family jools re-set. She wore white satin, ma'am, and with the diamonds and all she did look a perfect picture. We heard afterwards as all the county was talking about her. Mr. Gaunt, it's pretty to see how proud he is of her. But it is but natural they should want to be by themselves a bit at first.

Everybody is talking about Mr. Gaunt's courage, the way he went down the mine after that young Mr. Rosenberg! There! It was a fine deed, wasn't it, ma'am? Sit down, I will bring you some tea directly."

She left the room, and Virginia's mother, her mouth set in hard lines, stood gazing about her. She thought of Osbert as she first remembered him, in his impetuous youth. What magic wand had touched him now, raising up love and youth from their ashes? Was he indeed lavishing upon Virgie--Virgie, her little girl, her willing drudge, to whom she had deputed all disagreeable duties--the torrent of devotion which she might once have had?

Very sincerely at that moment did she repent her own inconstancy. Had she had the courage to stick to Osbert, her fidelity would have been rewarded quite soon. He was not as rich a man as Bernard had been when first they married--at least, she supposed not. Yet she knew that with him for a husband she would never have been suffered to dissipate a fortune. His strong hand would have been over her. She would have been governed instead of governing.

She stood in the window and turned her eyes upon the delicate statue of Love. Idly she read the inscription around its base. Then her eye caught a little bra.s.s plate affixed to the black marble shaft near the top.

_O.G. V.O. JUNE 30th, 19--_

It was the date of their first meeting.

She was still contemplating this, in profound reflection, when Grover came back with the tea.

"You must excuse deficiencies, ma'am. Hemming have locked up pretty near all the silver; with so many workmen about you need eyes in the back of your head. Was you looking at the statue, ma'am? Mr. Gaunt had it made, so Mrs. Gaunt tells me, to commemorate their first meeting. As I daresay you know, ma'am, it was love at first sight with him. And who can wonder? Well, he deserves to be happy, doesn't he? For he risked all his future, and hers, to save that young man. They say he was as near dead as anybody could be, to come back at all; but Mrs. Gaunt, she wouldn't let them give up.

"She sat there, so Ransom tells me, holding his head, nursing him in her arms as she sat on the gra.s.s, and calling to him, so pitiful, there was hardly a dry eye, ma'am, for every one thought she was speaking to a dead man. Then, when his eyelids flickered, it seemed like a miracle.

So at last he opens his eyes, and, 'Do you know me?' she says. And he answers very low, but you could hear it all right: '_My wife!_' he says.

"Just fancy, ma'am! And with that she broke down, and cried till they couldn't stop her, with the sudden relief. More than two hours she had been crouching there, cramped up on the ground."

Mrs. Mynors was too interested even to feign indifference. She made Grover give her all the details of the expedition, and relate exactly what had taken place. Grover was more than willing, and the tale lost nothing in the telling.

"Like a pair of children, they was," she concluded, "when they started off on their travels. Him laughing and talking like a boy going home for the holidays. Making their escape, they called it, for of course the whole countryside was buzzing with the story of what he had done, and the carriages and cars came up the drive so fast, Hemming was to and fro the whole day taking in cards, telling them that Mr. Gaunt was not feeling quite equal to seeing visitors, when all the time he was upstairs with her, packing their things for the escape!