Vain Fortune Part 10

'Those are Julia's. You see I run a line of thread around mine, so that there shall be no mistake. She is not nearly so careful as I am, and it isn't nice to find that the plants you have been tending for weeks have been spoilt by over-watering. I don't say she doesn't love them, but she forgets them.... Just look at those; they are devoured by insects. They want to be taken out and given a thorough cleansing. Even then I doubt if they would come out right,--a plant never forgives you; it is just like a human being.'

'And doesn't a human being ever forgive?'

'Oh, I didn't mean that!' she said, blushing; 'but sometimes I could cry over the poor plants which she neglects. I daresay you will think me very ridiculous, but I do cry sometimes, and sometimes I cannot resist taking them out on the sly, and giving them a thoroughly good syringing,--only you must not tell her; we have agreed not to touch each other's flowers. But I cannot bear to see the poor things dying. How do we know that they do not suffer?'

'I don't think it probable.'

'But we don't know for certain,' she said, fixing her great eyes on him.

'Do we?'

'We know nothing for certain,' he answered; and then he said, 'You and Mrs.

Bentley have lived a long time together?'

'No; not very long. About a couple of years. I was about thirteen when I came to Ashwood. I am now eighteen. Mrs. Bentley is a sort of connection.

She is very poor--that is why Mr. Burnett asked her to come and live here; besides, as I grew up I wanted a companion. She has been very good to me.

We have been very happy together--at least, as happy as one may be; for I don't think that any one is ever very happy. Have you been very happy?'

'I have not always been happy. But tell me more about Mrs. Bentley.'

'There is little more to tell. I naturally love her very much. She nursed me when I was ill--and I'm often ill; she taught me all I know; she cheered me when I was sad--when I thought my heart would break; when everybody else seemed unkind she was kind. Besides, I could not remain here without her.'

Emily lowered her eyes, and the conversation seemed to pause.

'I have arranged all that,' Hubert answered hurriedly. 'I spoke to her last night, and she has consented to remain.'

'That is very good of you.' Emily raised her eyes and looked shyly at Hubert; and then, as if doubtful of herself, she said, 'Do you like her?

I'm sure you do. Every one does. Do you not think she is very handsome?'

'I think her an exceedingly pleasant woman, and I'm sure we shall all get on very well together.'

'But don't you think her very handsome?'

'Yes; she is a handsome woman.'

Nothing more was said. Emily drew meditatively on the gravel with the point of her parasol. The gardeners looked up from their work.

'I have to go now,' she said, raising her eyes timidly, 'to feed the swans.

You would not care to go so far?'

'On the contrary, I should like it, of all things. A walk by the water on a day like this will be quite a treat.'

'Then will you wait a moment? I will go and fetch the bread.' She returned soon after with a small basket; and a large retriever, tied up in the corner of the yard, barked and lugged at his chain. 'He knows where I am going, and is afraid I shall forget him--aren't you, dear old Don? You wouldn't like to miss a walk with your mistress, would you, dear?' The dog bounded and rushed from side to side; it was with difficulty that Emily loosed him. Once free, he galloped down the drive, returning at intervals for a caress and a sniff at the basket which his mistress carried. 'There's nothing there for you, my beautiful Don!'

The drive sloped from the house down to the artificial water, pa.s.sing under some large elms; and in the twilight of the branches where the sunlight played, and the silence was tremulous with wings, Hubert felt that Emily had forgiven him. She wore the same black dress that he had admired her in the night before; her waist was confined by the same black band; but the chestnut hair seemed more beautiful beneath the black silk sunshade, leaned so gracefully, the black handle held between thumb and forefinger. And the little black figure seemed a part of the beautiful English park, now so green and fragrant in all the flower and sunlight of June, and decorated with a blue summer sky, and white clouds moving lazily over the tops of the trees. And the impression of the beautiful park was enforced by its reflection, which lay, with the mute magic of reflected things, in the still water, stirred only when, with exquisite motion of webbed feet, the swans propelled their freshness to and fro, balancing themselves in the current where they knew the bread must surely fall.

'They are waiting for me. Cannot you see their black eyes turned towards the bridge?' And she threw the bread from the basket, and the beautiful birds unbent their curved necks, devouring it voraciously under the water.

In the larger portion of this artificial lake there were two islands, thickly wooded. In the smaller, which lay behind Emily and Hubert, there was one small island covered with reeds and low bushes, and this was a favourite haunt for the waterfowl, which now came swimming forward, not daring to approach too near the dangerous swans.

'These are my friends,' said Emily. 'They will follow me to the other end, and I shall be able to feed them as we walk along the meadow.'

Don and Dandy bounded through the tall gra.s.s; sometimes foolishly giving chase to the birds that rose up out of the golden gra.s.ses, barking in mad eagerness--sometimes pursuing a hare into the distant woods. The last chase had led them far, and both dogs returned panting to walk till they recovered breath by their mistress's side; and to satisfy the retriever's affection Emily held one hand to him. Playing gently with his ears, she said--

'Did you ever see much of Mr. Burnett?'

'Not since I was a boy, ten or twelve years ago, when I was at the University. There was absolutely no reason for his doing what he did.'

'Yes; there was,' she said in a strangely decisive tone.

'May I ask----'

'I do not know if I ought to tell you. It would be better not to. You know,' she continued, speaking now with a nervous tremor in her voice, 'that I do not want you to think that I am so very disappointed. I do not know that I am disappointed at all. You have acted so generously, and it will be pleasanter to live here with you than with that old man.'

The conversation fell; but the sweet meadow seemed to induce confidences, and they were so happy in their youth and the sorcery of the sunshine.

'Five years ago I wrote to him,' said Hubert, speaking very slowly, 'asking him to lend me fifty pounds, and he refused. Since then I have not heard from him.' At the end of a long silence, the girl said--

'So long as you know that I am no longer angry with him for having disinherited me, I do not mind telling you the reason. Two months before he died he asked me to marry him, and I refused.'

They walked several yards without speaking.

'Do you not think I was right? I was only eighteen, and he was over sixty.'

'It seems to me quite shocking that he could have even contemplated such a thing.'

'But look at these poor ducks; they have followed us all the way, and I have forgotten to feed them!' Taking out all the bread that remained in the basket, Emily threw it to the ducks that had collected where the dammed-up stream that filled the lake trickled over a wooden sluice. There was a plank by which to cross the deep cutting. Hubert and Emily paused, and stood gazing at the large beech wood that swept over some rising ground.

Don had not been seen for some time, and they both shouted to him.

Presently a black ma.s.s was seen bounding through the flowers, and the panting animal once more ensconced himself by his mistress's side.

'I was very fond of Mr. Burnett,' she said, 'but I could not marry him. I could not marry any man I did not love.'

'And because you refused to marry him, he did not mention you in his will.

I never heard of such selfishness before!'

'Men are always selfish,' she said sententiously. 'But it really does not matter; things are just the same; he hasn't succeeded in altering anything--at least, not for the worse. We shall get on very well together.'

The conversation paused. Then Emily went on: 'You won't tell any one I told you? I only told you because I did not want you to think me selfish. I was afraid that after the foolish way I behaved last night you might think I hated you. Indeed, I do not. Perhaps everything has happened for the best.

I was very fond of the old man. I gave him my whole heart; no father ever had a daughter more attached; but I could not marry him. And it was the remembrance of my love for him that made me burst out crying. I do not think I realised until I saw you how cruelly I had been treated. But you won't tell any one? You won't tell Mrs. Bentley? She knows, of course; but do not tell her that I told you. I do not care that my feelings should be made a subject of discussion. You promise me?'

'I promise you.'

They had now reached the tennis-lawn. The gong sounded, and Emily said, 'That is lunch, and we shall find Julia waiting for us in the dining-room.'

It was as she said. Mrs. Bentley was standing by the sideboard, her basket of keys in her hand; she had not quite finished her housekeeping, and was giving some last instructions to the butler. Hubert noticed that the place at the head of the table was for him, and he sat down a little embarra.s.sed, to carve a chicken. So much home after so many years of homelessness seemed strange.

XI

On the third day, as soon as breakfast was over, Hubert introduced the subject of his departure. Julia waited, but as Emily did not speak, she said, 'We thought you liked the country better than town.'