Uncle Max Part 35

'Very nice, Jill; but indeed I do not want to hear any more of Miss Darrell's speeches.' And I got up hastily and opened the piano to put a stop to the conversation. Jill was always pleased when I would sing to her, but somehow my voice was not quite in order that evening.

The next day Jill surprised me very much by asking me if I knew that Miss Hamilton was going to Bournemouth for the rest of the winter.

'Mrs. Maberley has invited her, and Mr. Hamilton thinks it will do her so much good: they are going early next week. She wants to see you, Ursula; she says you have not met since Christmas. Could you go this afternoon?

Miss Darrell will be out.'

I considered for a moment, and then said yes, I would certainly go up to Gladwyn. It made me feel a little dull to think Miss Hamilton was going away; we had not exchanged a word since that Sunday evening, but I had thought of her so much since then. My patients had engrossed my time, but hardly my thoughts. Poor Elspeth was slowly dying, and I had to be constantly with her. Marshall had not yet resumed work, but he was in poor spirits from the loss of his wife, and could hardly be a comfort to the poor creature. I put off my visit to Phoebe until the evening, and walked up to Gladwyn with Jill; she and Lady Betty were going for a walk, and were to have tea with the Maberleys. I learned afterwards that Mr.

Tudor met them quite accidentally about three miles from Heathfield, and had accompanied them to Maplehurst, where he made himself so pleasant to the old lady that he was pressed to remain. Oh, Mr. Tudor, I am afraid you are not quite so artless as you look! I began to wish Aunt Philippa would soon recall Jill.

I found Miss Hamilton alone, and she seemed very glad to see me; her fair face quite flushed with pleasure when she saw me enter the drawing-room.

'I was afraid it was some stupid visitor,' she said frankly, 'when I heard the door-bell ring. Did it trouble you to come? How tired you look!

there, you shall take Giles's chair,' putting me with gentle force in a big blue-velvet chair that always stood by the fire; and then she took off my wraps and unfastened my gloves, and made me feel how glad she was to wait on me.

'You are going away,' I said, rather lugubriously, for I felt all at once how I should miss her. She looked a little better and brighter, I thought, or was it only temporary excitement?

'Yes,' she returned seriously, but not sadly, 'I think it will be better.

I am almost glad to go away, except that I shall not see you,' looking at me affectionately.

'Oh, if you wish to go,' for I was so relieved to hear her say this.

'It is not that I wish it, exactly, but that I feel it will be better: things are so uncomfortable just now, more than usual, I think. Etta seems always worrying herself and me; sometimes I fancy that she wants to get rid of me, that I am too troublesome,' with a faint smile. 'She worries about my health and want of spirits. I suppose I am rather a depressing element in the house, and, as I get rather tired of all this fuss, I think it will be better to leave it behind for a little.'

'That sounds as though you were driven away from home, Miss Hamilton.'

'Miss Hamilton!' reproachfully; 'that is naughty, Ursula. I do not call you Miss Garston.'

'Gladys, then.'

'Perhaps my restlessness is driving me away,' she returned sadly. 'I do feel so restless without my work. I never minded Etta's fussiness so much. I daresay she means it kindly, but it hara.s.ses me. I am one of those reserved people who do not find it easy to talk of their feelings, bodily or mental, except to a chosen few. You are one,--perhaps not the only one.'

'Of course not,' for she hesitated. 'You do not suppose that I laid such flattering unction to my soul?'

'Oh, but I could tell you anything,' she returned seriously. 'You seem to draw out one's thoughts while one is thinking them. Yes, I am sorry to leave you even for a few weeks; but, for many reasons, Giles is right, and the change will be good for me.'

'If you will only come back looking better and brighter I will gladly let you go.'

'I do not promise you that,' she answered quickly, 'unless you remove the pressure of a very heavy burden; but I shall be quieter and more at peace, and I am very fond of Colonel and Mrs. Maberley: they are dear people, and they spoil me dreadfully.'

'I am thankful some one spoils you, Gladys.'

She smiled at that.

'Uncle Max is still away,' I observed, after a brief silence. 'He went to Torquay to see an invalid friend, and he is still there. Mr. Tudor does not expect him back until the end of next week.'

'Yes, I know,' she returned, in a low voice; 'but we shall be at Bournemouth before then. Will you bid him good-bye for me, Ursula, and say that I hope his visit has rested and refreshed him? He was not very well, you told me.'

'No, but he is better now: he writes very cheerfully. Gladys, when you come back you will be stronger, I hope. I really do hope you will resume your work then; it will be far better for you to do so.'

'You cannot judge,' she said gently. 'I am afraid that I shall be unable to do that.' And somehow her manner closed the subject; but I was determined to make her speak on another subject.

'I want to tell you something that I think you ought to know,' I began, rather abruptly. 'Mrs. Maberley spoke to me about your brother Eric.'

'Ursula!'

'I could not let you go away and not know this: it did not seem honest.

It has troubled me a great deal. Mrs. Maberley would tell me, and she told it so nicely; and Mr. Hamilton is aware that I know, and I am afraid he is not pleased about it.'

She put up her hands to her face for a moment, with a gesture full of distress.

'I meant to tell you myself,' she said, in a stifled voice, 'but not now; not until I felt stronger.'

'And now you will not have that pain, Gladys. I think you ought to be relieved that some one else has told me.' But she shook her head.

'How do I know what they said? And Giles is aware of it, you say. Oh, Ursula, for pity's sake, tell me, has he talked to you about Eric?'

'No, no, not in the way you mean: he only said that we must not judge or misjudge other people. He seemed afraid that I should misjudge him.'

'Oh, I am thankful to know that. I could not bear to have the poor boy discussed between you two. Giles would have made you believe everything, he has such a way with him, and you would not know any better. Oh, Ursula,' in a piteous voice, 'you must not listen to them; they are all so hard on my poor darling. Faulty as he was, he was innocent of the crime laid to his charge; they have accused him falsely. Eric never took that cheque.'

I could see she was strongly agitated. Her delicate throat swelled with emotion, and she took hold of my hands and held them tightly, and her large blue-gray eyes were fixed on my face with such a beseeching expression that I could have promised to believe anything. And yet she was right. Mr. Hamilton had a way with him that influenced people strongly; he could speak with a power and authority that seemed to dominate one in spite of one's self. It has always appeared to me that we poor women are easily silenced and subjugated by a strong masculine will.

It is difficult to a.s.sert a timid individuality in the presence of a regnant force.

I answered her as gently as I could. 'Dear Gladys, you will make yourself ill. Will it give you any relief to speak out? I will listen to anything you have to say.'

She drew a deep breath, and the colour ebbed back into her face.

'Perhaps it may be a relief: I am weary of silence,--of trying to bear it alone; and other things are wearing me out. Etta is not so far wrong, after all.' And then she stopped, and looked at me wistfully, and her lips trembled. 'Ursula, you are a nurse; you go about comforting sick bodies and sick minds. If I am ill,--one must be ill sometimes,--will you promise to come and take care of me, in spite of all Etta may do or say?'

I hesitated for a moment, for it seemed to me impossible to give an unconditional promise, but she continued reproachfully, 'You cannot have the heart to refuse! I wanted to ask you this before. You would not, surely, leave me to eat out my heart in this loneliness! If you knew what it is to have Etta with one at such times! an east wind would be more merciful and comforting. I know I am expressing myself far too strongly, but all this excites me. Do promise me this, Ursula. Giles will not hinder you coming: he appreciates you thoroughly: it will only be Etta who may try to oppose you.'

Gladys was right; I had not the heart to refuse: so I gave her the required promise, and she grew calmed at once.

'Now that is settled, I can breathe more freely,' she said presently.

'I am afraid I am growing fanciful, but lately I have had such a horror of being ill. Giles would be kind, I know,--he is always kind in illness,--but he lets Etta influence him. Ursula, she influenced him and turned him against my poor boy; with all Giles's faults,--and he can be very hard and stern and unforgiving,--I am sure that of his own accord he would never have been so harsh to Eric.'

'But Mrs. Maberley told me that Miss Darrell took your brother Eric's part.'

'Yes, I know, she believes in Etta, and so does Giles; but she is not true; she has a dangerous way of implying blame when she is apparently praising a person: have you never noticed this? Giles was always more angry with Eric after Etta had been into the study to intercede for him.

If she would only have let him alone; but that is not Etta's way: she must make or mar people's lives.'

There was a concentrated bitterness in Gladys's voice, and her face grew stern.

'There was no love between them. Eric detested Etta, and on her side I know she disliked him. Eric never would tell me the reason; he was always hinting that he had found her out, and that she knew it, and that in consequence she wanted to get rid of him; but I thought it was all fancy on the poor boy's part, and I used to laugh at him. I wish I had not laughed now, for there was doubtless truth in what he said.'

'You were very fond of him, Gladys?' I asked softly, and as I spoke her face changed, and its expression grew soft and loving in a moment.

'Love him? he was everything to me: he was my twin, you know,--and so beautiful. Oh, I never saw a man's face so beautiful as his; he had such bright ways, too, and such a ringing laugh,--I wake up sometimes and fancy I hear it; and then came his whistle and light footstep springing up the stairs; but it is only a part of my dream.' She sighed, and went on: 'He was so fond of me, and used to tell me everything, and he was never cross to me, however put out and miserable he was; and I know they made him very miserable. Giles was so strict with him, and would not give him any liberty, and when Eric rebelled he was cruel to him.'