The Red Derelict Part 32

"_Very_ likely to be, if you don't first ascertain whether there's a journeyman painter up it with a paint pot--not otherwise."

Then they both laughed--for Wagram the first laugh he had indulged in since the bolt had fallen. Well, he could still laugh; yet but now it had seemed to him that he never would laugh again.

"But--you'll admit there are people who can tell you strange--and even startling--things about yourself that they can't possibly have got at by any ordinary means."

"I'll admit nothing of the kind. I know the old stock business--I have had it thrown at me too often. Some fool--usually some feminine fool-- goes to one of these impostors--not the hedge-side type of fraud but the fashionable ditto--and pays down her guineas to be told such and such.

She is told such and such, and it amazes her. Then, in retailing it, she invariably ends up with: 'But, how do you account for it?' I always answer I can't account for it, any more than I can account for how the clever card conjurer takes ace and king and queen out of the top of the head of the baldest man in the audience; but he does it, and n.o.body dreams of a.s.sociating the supernatural with the process. It's the same thing here. It's part of the system to find out things; and they do it.

If you were let into the secret you'd probably laugh at the simplicity with which it's done. No; really, I've no patience with that sort of absurdity; it's too childish."

"Looked at in that light it is. You do put things straight, Mr Wagram."

"Well, but--isn't it so? I have even heard people attribute that sort of quackery to satanic influence, which has almost struck me, if one may say so, as insulting to the intelligence of the devil. But it is getting rather dusk. You will want your lamp before you get home. Is it in good lighting order?"

If a momentary temptation beset Delia to pretend it was not, so as to afford a pretext for accompanying him to the house, which was not very far distant, she heroically stifled it; so between them they lighted the lamp.

"Good-bye, Mr Wagram. Thanks so much. I promise you I won't dabble in the black art again," she said as they shook hands; and mounting she skimmed away down the now shadowy road, going over in her mind every word, every tone of the, in hard fact, utterly unmomentous interview.

And he, striking into a woodland path on the other side, continued his walk in the deepening gloom, to the accompaniment of the ghostly hooting of owls. It was strange that he should have fallen in with this girl just then, and in his then frame of mind it seemed to him that her glance and tone and demeanour were very sweet, very soothing, very sympathetic. And then--he ceased to give her another thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

"REQUIEM AETERNAM..."

Though beloved by their tenantry and dependents the Wagrams were not exactly popular with the county--as spelt with a capital C. This saw reason, or thought it did, to regard them as exclusive and eccentric.

To begin with, they seldom entertained, and then not on anything like the scale it was reckoned they ought. A few shooting parties in the season, and those mostly men, though such of the latter as owned wives and daughters brought them; or an occasional gathering, such as we have seen, mainly of ecclesiastical interest. It was a crying shame, declared the county, that a splendid place like Hilversea Court should be thrown away on two solemn old widowers; and it was the duty of one of them--Wagram at any rate--to marry again. But Wagram showed not the slightest inclination to do anything of the kind.

Not through lack of opportunity--inducement. He was angled for, more or less deftly--not always with a mercenary motive; but, though courteous and considerate to the aspiring fair, by no art or wile could he be drawn any further--no, not even into the faintest shadow of a flirtation. It was exasperating, but there was no help for it, so he had been given up as hopeless. He might have recognised the duty but for the existence of his son. Hilversea would have its heir after him-- that was sufficient.

He was eccentric, estimated his acquaintances, in that he worked hard at matters that most people leave to an agent; but this was a duty, he held--a sacred trust--to look into things personally; the result we have referred to elsewhere. As for entertaining, well, neither he nor the old Squire cared much about it. On the other hand, they were careful that many a day's sport, with gun or rod--but mostly the latter--should come in the way of not a few who seldom had an opportunity of enjoying such.

But now of late there had befallen that which caused the county aforesaid to rub its eyes, and this was the manner in which the Wagrams seemed to have "taken up" Delia Calmour. It was not surprised that a brazen, impudent baggage like that should have pushed herself upon them on the strength of the gnu incident, the marvel was that she should have succeeded--have succeeded in getting round not only Wagram but the old Squire as well, and the county resented it. Once when she was at Hilversea some callers, of course, of her own s.e.x, took an opportunity of testifying their disapproval by being markedly rude to the girl.

This Wagram had noticed, and had there and then paid her extra attention by way of protest. And Haldane too--he who thought the whole world was hardly good enough to have the honour of containing that girl of his, and yet he allowed her to a.s.sociate with a daughter of tippling, disreputable old Calmour! What next, and what next!

But if the Wagrams were eccentric they could afford to be, and that for a dual reason: in the first place, they were "big" enough; in the next, they cared literally and absolutely not one straw for the opinion of the county. If a given line commended itself to their approbation they took it, completely regardless of what the county or anybody else might choose to say or think--and this held equally good of father and son-- which was as well, for, as time went by, on this matter it "said"

plenty.

A wafting of it reached Wagram one day, at the mouth of Clytie's _quondam_ victim--"Vance's eldest fool," as the old Squire had, with cynical apt.i.tude, defined that much plucked youth.

"Take a tip from me, Wagram," remarked the latter one day. "You're making a mistake having too much to do with that lot. They're dangerous, and you'll have to pay up smartly for your fun one of these days."

The other did not retort that the speaker had reason to be an authority on the point, nor did he get angry; he only answered:

"I don't like that kind of remark, Vance. I suppose because I'm not in the habit of taking anybody's 'tips' I always take my own line. Sounds conceited, perhaps, but it's true."

"Oh, I didn't mean anything, Wagram," was the reply, given rather shamefacedly.

But the time had now come when this reputation for reticence, for eccentricity, stood Wagram in good stead. If he had become graver, more aloof than ever under the influence of this new and overwhelming blow, his surroundings hardly noticed it. In anybody else it would have been at once remarked on; in him it was a mere development of his former and normal demeanour. One or two opined that he contemplated entering a monastery, but the general run gave the matter no further thought; and, the very vaguest, faintest inkling of the real state of things struck n.o.body at all.

There was one, however, whose quick woman's wit had not been slow to arrive at the fact that something had gone wrong--in some absolutely not-to-be-guessed-at and unaccountable way, but still gone wrong--and that was Delia herself. The county need not bother its opaque head any further as to how and why the Wagrams had "taken her up," for the said Wagrams seemed to have dropped her with equal capriciousness. And the girl herself?

No more of these pleasant informal invites to Hilversea when she cycled over to the chapel services on Sundays or other days. Wagram and the old Squire were as courteous and kindly in their bearing as ever, but-- there it ended; and, strange to say, remembering her upbringing, or want of it rather, this daughter of tippling, disreputable old Calmour did not, even in her heart of hearts, feel hurt or resentful. For, as we have said, by some quick-witted instinct of her own she realised that some great trouble, secret and, therefore, infinitely the greater, was sapping the peace of this house, to the members of which she looked up with a feeling little short of adoration. She saw this, but n.o.body else did as yet.

Delia had carried out the intention we heard her express to Wagram on the occasion of one of those visits which had const.i.tuted the bright days of her life. She had placed herself under the instruction of the old priest in Ba.s.singham whose German nationality had first aroused her insular disapproval, and had been received into the Catholic Church; but in the result she had learned that a love of beautiful music and imposing and picturesque ceremonies was not the be-all and end-all of the matter by a long way; wherefore the change had put the coping-stone to the refining process which had been going on unconsciously within her, and the former undisciplined and inconsequent daughter of rackety, happy-go-lucky Siege House had become a self-contained and self-disciplined woman. As to this something of a test was put upon her when one day, on one of the rare occasions now when she had an opportunity of talking confidentially with Wagram, the latter remarked:

"Talking of 'duties,' Miss Calmour, I wonder if you will resent what I am going to say? It seems ungracious after the great help you have given us here from time to time--musically, I mean. Well, then, you have a beautiful voice and great musical talent. Now, don't you think you ought to turn that to account nearer home? The mission at Ba.s.singham is a poor one. With your talents, if you threw yourself into helping to improve its choir, and musical arrangements generally, what a difference that might work in rendering it more attractive to outside people as well as to those within. Of course, music like many other accessories, is a mere spiritual luxury, not an essential, but it is often a powerful factor in the first instance, in attracting those without, and therefore, like any lawful agency in that direction, by no means to be despised. How if this is a talent entrusted to you to be turned to account? But there--I have no const.i.tuted right to set myself up as your adviser, and I suppose you are only setting me down as a solemn old bore intent on preaching you a sermon," he concluded, with a smile--a sad one, she decided to herself, as his somewhat rare smiles were in these days.

The natural human in Delia was represented by a feeling of blank dismay.

Those rides over to Hilversea, and her part in the musical arrangements of its exquisite chapel, had been to her as something to live for. And now even this was to be denied her. But the self-discipline had become an accomplished fact.

"I am setting you down as nothing of the sort, Mr Wagram," she answered steadily, "nor do I know anybody in this world more competent to advise me or anyone else. Yes; you are right; I will follow your advice. But I may come up to Hilversea, and help occasionally when I am not wanted in Ba.s.singham, mayn't I?"

"My dear child, of course; we are only too glad. You know, I was not putting it to you in your own personal interest. In such a matter nothing personal comes in, or ought to. But there--I seem to be preaching again."

The step Delia had taken involved upon her far less of a trial from those among whom she moved than she had expected. Old Calmour had been nasty and jeering on the subject, and in his cups had been wont to make exceedingly objectionable remarks and vulgar insinuations; but such to the girl were as mere pin-p.r.i.c.ks now. Moreover, Clytie had on every occasion quelled, not to say flattened, him with all her serene but effective decisiveness; and the egregious Bob was in a state of complete subjection, as we have shown. To Clytie herself the whole thing was a matter of entire satisfaction, for she regarded it as a step, and a very important one, in the direction of furthering her own darling scheme; which scheme, by the way, did not seem to progress with the rapidity she would have wished.

"You must force the pace Delia," she said. "The thing's hanging a little more than I like. You've got a first-rate cut in, and you ought to be able to capture the trick. Force the pace a little more; you're not making the most of your opportunities."

"You're wasting a deal of capacity for intrigue, Clytie," was the answer. "There's nothing 'hanging,' no pace to force, and no trick to capture, as I've told you before."

The other looked at her, shook her pretty head, and--being at times inclined towards vulgarity--winked.

And then upon Hilversea and its surroundings and dependents fell another bolt--swift, sudden, consternating. The old Squire was dead.

He had pa.s.sed away in his sleep, peacefully and painlessly, for the expression of his fine old face was absolutely placid and almost smiling; and from Wagram downwards the bolt shot hard and grievous through many a heart. Not only of those belonging to the immediate neighbourhood did this hold, for in the crowd which thronged the approaches to the chapel what time the solemn High Ma.s.s of _Requiem_-- sung by the dead man's lifelong friend, Monsignor Culham--was proceeding, not a few strange faces might have been discerned; faces of those whom Grantley Wagram and his son had benefited--in some instances even to the saving of life, where, but for such benefit, the means of preserving life by affording the requisite conditions would have been lacking.

Very different, too, to the _cortege_ which we saw issue from these doors a few months back is this which now comes forth to lay the dead man in his last resting-place in the little consecrated graveyard beneath the east window of the chapel, but no less solemn. The glow and splendour of light and colour, the mellow flooding of the summer sunshine are no longer here, and the gurgling song of full-throated thrushes is hushed. Instead, the frost and stillness of a winter noon, and an occasional sob as the coffin is lowered into the grave, while the chant of the _Benedictus_ rolls forth mournful and grand upon the crisp air, so still that the lights borne on each side of the great crucifix burn with scarce a flicker, and the celebrant, vested in a black and silver cope of some richness, sprinkles--for the last time with holy water the remains of Grantley Wagram, now laid to his final rest.

"Requiem aeternam dona, ei Domine, Et lux perpetua luceat ei.

"Anima ejus, et animae omnium fidelium defunctorum per misericordiam Dei requiescant in pace."

The words find echo in many a heart as the sad solemnity ends. The crowd melts away, the mourners withdraw--all save one, who stands motionless, with bowed head, looking down into the closing grave--and that one the dead man's son.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

THE RED DERELICT.

"What would happen if we went ash.o.r.e here? Why, we'd very likely be eaten."

"Eaten! Oh, captain, you can't really mean that. In these days too!"

"But I do mean it. Yonder's a pretty bad coast. As for 'in these days,' we haven't yet captured quite all the earth, only the greater part of it. There are still some rum places left."

"Oh!" And the inquiring lady pa.s.senger stared, round-eyed, to eastward, where, however, no sign of any coast was visible, nor yet in any other quarter.

The steamship _Baleka_ was shearing her way through the smooth satiny folds of the tropical swell, and the light breeze which stirred the surface combined with the air the ship was making to render life quite tolerable beneath the grateful shade of the awnings. Otherwise it was hot--unequivocably hot; and where the glisten of bra.s.swork was exposed to the overhead noonday sun the inadvertent contact of the bare hand with the said bra.s.swork was sufficient to make the owner jump. So completely alone on this sh.o.r.eless sea was the steamer that the plumes of smoke from her great white funnels seemed as though they had no business to taint this free, pure air with their black abominations-- seemed, in fact, an outrage on the blue and golden solitude. Yet the said solitude was by no means devoid of life. Flying-fish skimming above the liquid plain singly or in flights like silvery birds, or a school of porpoises keeping pace with the ship for miles in graceful leaps, as their sportive way is, const.i.tuted only hints as to the teeming life of the waters in common with the earth and air; or here and there a triangular fin moving dark and oily above the surface in scarcely perceptible glide. The sight started the inquiring lady pa.s.senger off afresh.