The Shadow of Ashlydyat Part 77

To her astonishment, George was not in bed. Two o'clock!--and he had said that he should soon follow her! A vague feeling of alarm stole over Maria.

All sorts of improbable suggestions crowded on her imagination.

Imaginations, you know, are more fantastic in the dark, still night, than in the busy day. Had he been taken ill? Had he fallen asleep at his work? Could he--could he have set the books and himself on fire? Had a crown been offered to Maria, she could not have remained tranquil a moment longer.

Slightly dressing herself, she threw on a warm dressing-gown, and stole down the stairs. Pa.s.sing through the door that divided the dwelling from the Bank, she softly turned the handle of George's room, and opened it.

Secure in the house being at rest, he had not locked the doors against interruption.

The tables seemed strewed with books, but George was not then occupied with them. He was sitting in a chair apart, buried, as it appeared--in thought, his hands and his head alike drooping listlessly. He started up at Maria's entrance.

"I grew alarmed, George," she said, trying to explain her appearance. "I awoke suddenly, and finding you had not come up, I grew frightened, thinking you might be ill. It is two o'clock!"

"What made you come down out of your warm bed?" reiterated George.

"You'll catch your death."

"I was frightened, I say. Will you not come up now?"

"I am coming directly," replied George. "Go back at once. You'll be sure to take cold."

Maria turned to obey. Somehow the dark pa.s.sages struck on her with a nervous dread. She shrank into the room again.

"I don't care to go up alone," she cried. "I have no light."

"How foolish!" he exclaimed. "I declare Meta would be braver!"

Some nervous feeling did certainly appear to be upon her, for she burst into tears. George's tone--a tone of irritation, it had been--was exchanged for one of soothing tenderness, as he bent over her. "What is the matter with you to-night, Maria? I'll light you up."

"I don't know what is the matter with me," she answered, suppressing her sobs. "I have not felt in good spirits of late. George, sometimes I think you are not well. You are a great deal changed in your manner to me. Have I--have I displeased you in any way?"

"_You_ displeased me! No, my darling."

He spoke with impulsive fondness. Well had it been for George G.o.dolphin had no heavier care been upon him than any little displeasure his wife could give him. The thought occurred to him with strange bitterness.

"I'll light you up, Maria," he repeated. "I shall not be long after you."

And, taking the heavy lamp from the table, he carried it to the outer pa.s.sage, and held it while she went up the stairs. Then he returned to the room and to his work--whatever that work might be.

Vain work! vain, delusive, useless work! As you will soon find, Mr.

George G.o.dolphin.

Morning came. Whether gnawing care or hopeful joy may lie in the heart's inner dwelling-place, people generally meet at their breakfast-tables as usual.

George G.o.dolphin sat at breakfast with his wife. Maria was in high spirits: her indisposition of the previous evening had pa.s.sed away. She was telling George an anecdote of Meta, as she poured out the coffee, some little _ruse_ the young lady had exercised, to come over Margery; and Maria laughed heartily as she told it. George laughed in echo: as merrily as his wife. There must have been two George G.o.dolphins surely at that moment! The outer, presented to the world, gay, smiling, and careless; the inner, kept for his own private and especial delectation, grim, dark, and ghastly.

Breakfast was nearly over, when there was heard a clattering of little feet, the door burst open, and Miss Meta appeared in a triumphant shout of laughter. She had eluded Margery's vigilance, and eloped from the nursery. Margery speedily followed, scolding loudly, her hands stretched forth to seize the runaway. But Meta had bounded to her papa, and found a refuge.

George caught her up on his knee: his hair--the same shade once, but somewhat darker now--mixing with the light golden locks of the child, as he took from her kiss after kiss. To say that George G.o.dolphin was pa.s.sionately fond of his child would not be speaking too strongly: few fathers can love a child more ardently than George loved Meta. A pretty little lovable thing she was! Look at her on George's knee! her dainty white frock, its sleeves tied up with blue, her pretty socks and shoes, her sunny face, surrounded by its shower of curls. Margery scolded in the doorway, but Miss Meta, little heeding, was casting her inquisitive eyes on the breakfast-table, to see what there might be especially nice upon it.

"If you'd just please to punish her once for it, sir, she wouldn't do it, maybe, in future!" grumbled Margery. "Naughty girl!"

"I think I must," said George. "Shall I whip you, Meta?"

Meta shouted out a joyous little laugh in answer, turned her face round, and clung to him lovingly. She knew what his "whippings" meant.

"But if Margery says so?"

"Margery n.o.body," responded Meta, bustling her face round to the table again. "Mamma, may I have some of that?"

Maria hesitated. "That" was some tempting-looking breakfast-dish, very good, no doubt, for George, but very rich for Meta. George, however, drew it towards him, and cut her a little, claiming for his reward as many kisses as Meta's impatience would accord him. Margery went off in a temper.

"No wonder the child despises her bread and milk in the morning! If I had fed _you_ upon those spiced things, Mr. George, when you were a child, I wonder whether you'd have grown into the strong man you are!"

"Into a stronger," called out George. He as much liked to give a word of teasing now and then to Margery as he had in the old days she referred to. Margery retorted with some answer, which he did not hear, and George laughed. Laughed loud and merrily, and again bent his face to Meta's.

But he could not remain all day long in that scene of peace. Oh, if we only could! those who have to go out to battle with the daily world. If there were only a means of closing the door on the woes that turn a man's hair white before its time!

George took Meta a triumphal ride round the room on his shoulder, and then, having extorted his payment, put her down by Maria. Going into the Bank to his day's work. His day's work! rather an embarra.s.sing one, that day, Mr. George G.o.dolphin!

Taking the keys of the strong-room from the cupboard, also certain other keys, as he had done once before within the knowledge of the reader, he proceeded to the strong-room, opened a certain safe in it, and took out the box inscribed "Lord Averil." This he also opened, and examined its contents. Mr. George G.o.dolphin was searching for certain bonds: or, making believe to search for them. Having satisfied himself that they were not there, he returned the box to its place, made all safe again, went back, and sat down to open the morning letters. Presently he called to a clerk.

"Has Mr. Hurde come?"

"Yes, sir."

"Desire him to step here."

The old clerk came, in obedience to the summons, taking off his spectacles as he entered to rub one of their gla.s.ses, which had got misty. George leaned his elbow on the table, and, resting his chin upon his hand, looked him full in the face.

"Hurde," said he, plunging midway into his communication, which he made in a lone tone, "those bonds of Lord Averil's are missing."

The clerk paused, as if scarcely understanding. "How do you mean, sir?

Missing in what way?"

"I can't find them," replied George.

"They are in Lord Averil's box in the strong-room, sir, with his other papers."

"But they are not there," replied George. "I have searched the papers through this morning. Hurde, we have had some roguery at work."

Another pause, devoted by Mr. Hurde to revolving the communication.

"Roguery!" he slowly repeated. "Have you missed anything else, Mr.

George?"

"No. I have not looked."

"Oh, sir, there's no fear of anything being wrong," resumed the old clerk, his good sense repudiating the notion. "Mr. G.o.dolphin must have moved them."

"That's just what I thought until last night," said George. "The fact is, Lord Averil asked me for these bonds some little time ago, while my brother was in London. I opened the box, and, not seeing them there, came to the conclusion that Mr. G.o.dolphin had moved them. Lord Averil said it was of no consequence then, and departed for London: and the thing slipped from my memory. When you spoke to me about it last evening, of course I felt vexed to have forgotten it, and I put off Lord Averil with the best excuse I could."