The Yellow House Part 6

CHAPTER V

A SOUTH AMERICAN LETTER

Naturally I expected that some time that night my father would have spoken to me concerning the strange meeting at the house of the woman whom he had called Marcia. In a sense I feared what he might have to say. Already I was beginning to reckon those few hours as an epoch in my life. Never had I met any one whom in so short a time had attracted me so much. I found myself thinking of her continually, and the more I thought the more I scoffed at the idea of connecting in any way with her those things at which Lady Naselton had hinted. There seemed something almost grossly incongruous in any such idea. The more I thought of her the more resolute I became in putting all such thoughts behind me. And, apart from my judgment, which was altogether on her side, I was conscious of a vague personal attraction, almost a fascination, which had a wonderful effect on me. The manner of her life, her surroundings, that air of quiet, forcible elegance, which seemed to a.s.sert itself alike in her house, her dress, and her conversation, were a revelation to me. She was original too, obviously intellectual, a woman who held her life well within control, and lived it fearlessly and self-reliantly. I had never met any one like it before, and I longed to see more of her. My one fear was lest my father should lay some stern embargo upon my a.s.sociation with her. In that case I had made up my mind not to yield without a struggle. I would be quite sure that it was not a matter of merely prejudice before I consented to give up what promised to be the most delightful friendship I had ever known.

But, rather to my surprise, and a little to my relief, my father ignored our afternoon's adventure when I saw him again. He came in to dinner as usual, carefully dressed, and ate and drank with his customary fine care that everything of which he partook should be of the best of its kind. After he had left the table we saw no more of him. He went straight to his study, and I heard the door shut and the key turned--a sign that he was on no account to be disturbed; and though I sat in the drawing room until long after my usual time for retiring, and afterwards remained in my room till the small hours commenced to chime, his door remained locked. Yet in the morning he was down before us. He was standing at the window when I came into the breakfast room, and the clear morning light fell mercilessly on his white face, pallid and lined with the marks of his long vigil. It seemed to me that he greeted us both more quietly than usual.

During breakfast time I made a few remarks to him, but they pa.s.sed unnoticed, or elicited only a monosyllabic reply. Alice spoke of the schools, but he seemed scarcely to hear. We all became silent. As we were on the point of rising, the unusual sound of wheels outside attracted our attention. A fly was pa.s.sing slowly along the road beyond our hedge. I caught a glimpse of a woman's face inside, and half rose up.

"She is going away!" I exclaimed.

My father, too, had half risen. He made a movement as though to hurry from the room, but with an effort he restrained himself. The effect of her appearance upon him was very evident to me. His under lip was twitching, and his long, white fingers were nervously interlaced. Alice, bland and unseeing, glanced carelessly out of the window.

"It is our mysterious neighbor from the Yellow House," she remarked. "If a t.i.the of what people say about her is true we ought to rejoice that she is going away. It is a pity she is not leaving for good."

My father opened his lips as though about to speak. He changed his mind, however, and left the room. The burden of her defence remained with me.

"If I were you I would not take any notice of what people say about her," I remarked. "In all probability you will only hear a pack of lies. I had tea with her yesterday afternoon, and she seemed to me to be a very well-bred and distinguished woman."

Alice looked at me with wide-open eyes, and an expression almost of horror in her face.

"Do you mean to say that you have been to see her, that you have been inside her house, Kate?" she cried.

I nodded.

"I was caught in the rain and she asked me in," I explained, coolly. "Afterwards I liked her so much that I was glad to stay to tea when she asked me. She is a very charming woman."

Alice looked at me blankly.

"But, Kate, didn't Lady Naselton tell you about her? Surely you have heard what people say?"

I shrugged my shoulders slightly.

"Lady Naselton told me a good many things," I answered; "but I do not make a point of believing everything disagreeable which I hear about people. Do you think that charitable yourself?"

My sister's face hardened. She had all the prejudices of her type, in her case developed before their time. She was the vicar's daughter, in whose eyes the very breath of scandal was like a devastating wind. Her point of view, and consequently her judgment, seemed to me alike narrow and cruel.

"You forget your position," she said, with cold indignation. "There are other reports of that woman besides Lady Naselton's. Depend upon it there is no smoke without fire. It is most indiscreet of you to have had any communication with her."

"That," I declared, "is a matter of opinion."

"I believe that she is not a nice woman," Alice said, firmly.

"And I shall believe her to be a very nice one until I know the contrary," I answered. "I know her and you do not, and I can a.s.sure you that she is much more interesting than any of the women who have called upon us round here."

Alice was getting angry with me.

"You prefer an interesting woman to a good one," she said, warmly.

"Without going quite so far as that, I certainly think that it is unfortunate that most of the good women whom one meets are so uninteresting," I answered. "Goodness seems so satisfying--in the case of repletion. I mean--it doesn't seem to leave room for anything else."

Whereupon Alice left me in despair, and I found myself face to face with my father. He looked at me in stern disapproval. There was a distinctly marked frown on his forehead.

"You are too fond of those flighty sayings, Kate," he remarked, sternly. "Let me hear less of them."

I made no reply. There were times when I was almost afraid of my father, when a suppressed irritation of manner seemed like the thin veneer beneath which a volcano was trembling. To-day the signs were there. I made haste to change the subject.

"The letters have just come," I said, holding out a little packet to him. "There is one for you from a place I never heard of--somewhere in South America, I think."

He took them from me and glanced at the handwriting of the topmost one. Then for a short s.p.a.ce of time I saw another man before me. The calm strength of his refined, thoughtful face was transformed. Like a flash the gleam of a dark pa.s.sion lit up his brilliant eyes. His lips quivered, his fingers were clenched together. For a moment I thought he would have torn the letter into shreds unopened. With an evident effort, however, he restrained himself, and went out of the room bearing the letter in his hand.

I heard him walking about in his study all the morning. At luncheon time he had quite recovered his composure, but towards its close he made, for us, a somewhat startling announcement.

"I am going to London this afternoon," he said, quietly.

"To London?" we both echoed.

"Yes. There is a little business there which requires my personal attention."

Under the circ.u.mstances Alice was even more surprised than I was.

"But how about Mr. Hewitt?" she reminded him blandly. "We were to meet him at the schools at five o'clock this afternoon about the new ventilators."

"Mr. Hewitt must be put off until my return," my father answered. "The schools have done without them for ten years so they can go on for another week. Can I trouble you for the Worcestershire sauce, Kate?"

This was my father's method of closing the subject. Alice looked at me with perplexed face, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I was wondering whether my father would undertake a commission for me at Debenham and Freebody's.

"Shall you be going West?" I asked him.

He looked up at me and hesitated for a moment.

"My business is in the city," he said, coldly. "What do you call West?"

"Regent Street," I answered.

He considered a few moments.

"I may be near there," he said. "If so I will try to do what you require. Do not be disappointed if I should happen to forget about it, though. If it is important you had better send direct."

"I would rather you called if it wouldn't be bothering you," I told him. "There is some money to pay, and it would save my getting postal orders."

I left the room to write a note. When I came back my father had gone into his study. I followed him there, and, entering the room without knocking, found him bending over his desk.

He looked up at me and frowned.