The Star-Gazers Part 60

"Ah, I suppose so," replied Oldroyd. "How's the garden getting on now?"

"Garden?--the garden! Oh, yes; I had forgotten. Very well, I think; but I have been too much occupied for the past few weeks--months--weeks to attend to it myself."

"I suppose so. One has to work hard to do more than one's fellows, eh?"

Alleyne looked at him blankly.

"Yes, one has to work hard," he replied.

"I thought, perhaps, as you have been shut up so much lately, you would come and have a round with me," continued Oldroyd. "It is a splendid day."

Alleyne looked at him dreamily, as if he felt that something of the brightness of the outer day had accompanied his friend into the room, but he merely shook his head.

"Oh, nonsense, man!" cried Oldroyd, speaking with energy. "You work too hard. I am sure you do."

"I am obliged," said Alleyne gravely. "It is the only rest I have."

He seemed to be growing more animated already, and to be fully awakened to the presence of his friend, for his next words possessed more energy, when, in reply to a little more persuasion, he exclaimed,--

"Don't ask me, Oldroyd. I have, I tell you, too much to do."

It seemed useless to press him further, and the doctor felt that it would be unwise, perhaps, to say more, so he took a seat and waited for Alleyne to speak again, apparently like any idler who might have called, but really observant of him all the time.

It was a curious study the manner in which these two men bore their trouble. Each was a student in a different field, and each had sought relief in his own particular subject, with the result that the one had grown old and careworn and neglectful of self in a few weeks, while the other was only more grave and energetic than before.

It may have been that the love of one was deeper than that of the other, though that was doubtful. It rather seemed to be that while Alleyne was cut to the heart by the bitterness of the rebuff that he had met, a certain amount of resentment against one whom he looked upon as a light and trivial flirt had softened Oldroyd's blow.

But, to the latter's surprise, his friend and patient made no further remark. He sat gazing at vacancy for a few moments, and then allowed his head to rest once more upon his hand, as if about to go to sleep; but at the first movement made by Oldroyd he looked up again, and replaced the shade upon his lamp.

"Life is so short," he said, with a grave smile; "time goes so very fast, Oldroyd, I must get on. You will excuse me, I know."

"Yes, I must be getting on as well. I shall call in upon you oftener than I have lately. You will perhaps come out with me again sometimes."

"Out with you! To see your patient the poacher?"

"Oh, no," replied Oldroyd, smiling. "He is quite well again now. I have not been there these two months; but I can soon find an object for a walk."

"A walk? Yes, perhaps. We shall see. Will you close the shutters when you go. I must have darkness for such work as this."

"Yes, I'll close them," said Oldroyd quietly; and crossing the room he did what he had been requested before walking out of the observatory, leaving Alleyne absorbed once more in his thoughts, and too intent to raise his head as his visitor bade him good-day.

By accident or design, Oldroyd encountered Lucy once more in crossing the hall, bowing to her gravely, his salute being received with chilling courtesy by the young lady, who again hurried away, truth to tell, to ascend to her bedroom and cry over the unhappy way in which her life course was being turned.

"Well," said Mrs Alleyne anxiously, as she advanced to meet Oldroyd, "what do you think?"

"Exactly what I thought before I saw your son, madam. He is again setting Nature at defiance and suffering for the sin."

"And what is to be done?"

Oldroyd shook his head as he thought of the medicine that would have cured Alleyne's complaint--a remedy that appeared to be unattainable, watched as it were by a military dragon of the name of Rolph, and all the young doctor could say for the anxious mother's comfort was on leaving,--

"We must wait."

Volume 3, Chapter III.

A DISCOVERY.

"Lucy, I have something very particular to say to you," said Mrs Alleyne one morning directly after breakfast, over which she had sat very stern and cold of mien.

"Mamma!" exclaimed Lucy, flushing.

"I desire that you be perfectly frank with me. I insist upon knowing everything at once."

Lucy's pretty face fired up a deeper crimson for a few moments under this examination. Then she grew pale as she rose from her seat and stood confronting her mother.

"I do not think I quite understand you, mamma," she faltered.

"Lucy!"

The thrill of maternal indignation made the old brown silk dress once more give forth a slight electric kind of rustle as this one word was spoken, and Mrs Alleyne's eyes seemed to lance her child.

"A guilty conscience, Lucy, needs no accuser," said Mrs Alleyne, in a bitterly contemptuous tone. "You know perfectly well what I mean."

Lucy glanced half-timidly, half-wonderingly at her mother, but remained silent.

"I will not refuse you my permission to go your daily walks in future, but I must ask you to give me your word that such proceedings as have been reported to me of late shall be at an end."

Lucy opened her lips to speak, but Mrs Alleyne held up her hand.

"If you are going to say that you do not know what I mean, pray hesitate. I refer to your meetings with Captain Rolph."

Lucy's shame and dismay had been swept away by a feeling of resentment now, and, giving her little foot a pettish stamp, she exclaimed,--

"The country side is free to Captain Rolph as well as to me, mamma. I know him from meeting him at the hall. I cannot help it if he speaks to me when I am out."

"But you can help making appointments with him," retorted Mrs Alleyne.

"I never did, mamma. I declare I never did," cried Lucy with spirit.

"But you go in places where he is likely to be seen; and even if he were an eligible suitor for your hand, is this the way a child of mine should behave? Giving open countenance to the wretched t.i.ttle-tattle of this out-of-the-way place."

"And pray, who has been talking about me?" cried Lucy angrily.

"The poor people at the cottages--the servants. It is commonly known.

I spoke to Mr Oldroyd yesterday."

"And what did he dare to say?" cried Lucy, flaming up.

"He would not say anything, but from his manner it was plain to see that he knew."