Part 78 (1/2)
Margaret sweeps past him. She is at this moment nearly as angry with him as t.i.ta is.
CHAPTER XIX.
HOW MARGARET AND t.i.tA TREAD MANY PATHS; AND HOW FORTUNE, HAVING TURNED HER BACK ON t.i.tA, SHOWS A SMILING FRONT TO MAURICE.
It is six months later, and now fair May has come to us on young and eager feet. On young feet barely born, and with a smile so slight that one dare hardly call it suns.h.i.+ne. At this moment a little gleam of it, just strong enough to make one dream of summer, but not enough to warm one, is stealing timidly though the windows of Margaret's smaller drawing-room in Park Lane.
She had taken t.i.ta abroad almost immediately after the rupture at Oakdean, explaining to their mutual friends that it was necessary for t.i.ta's health that she should winter in the south. An explanation received face to face with delicate appreciation and warm sympathy, and much laughed over later on. Poor old Margaret! As if one didn't _know!_ As if one couldn't _see!_ That cousin, you know! He was--he really _was_ far too good-looking. And then this sudden loss of fortune! After all, these unequal marriages never _do_. Rylton plainly was tired of her, and when the money went--well, then Margaret took her off his hands. Of course Margaret was better than the cousin--more respectable. This brilliant bit of wit was received with much soft smothered mirth. But as for Rylton--he certainly had not come well out of it. A fellow should stick to his bargain, any way. He had married her for her money, and that gone, had shaken himself free. It was certainly playing it a little low down. By the way, wouldn't Mrs. Bethune be singing hymns over it all! _Such_ a downfall to her rival! There was a good deal of gossip about it, here and there.
Mrs. Chichester, who has a heart somewhere in her lean, frivolous body, had come all the way up from Devons.h.i.+re, where she was then falsely beguiling a most unlucky young curate, to see Margaret, on the latter's way through town, and express her sorrow for t.i.ta. She had honestly liked t.i.ta, and she said to Margaret many kindly things about her. So many, and so kindly indeed, that Margaret almost forgave her that reprehensible flirtation with Captain Marryatt. But then Margaret, at that time, knew nothing of the luckless curate!
The greatest surprise of all, however, came from old Miss Gower.
Popularly she had been supposed to hate t.i.ta, and resent her marriage with Rylton, who was a relative of hers; but five days after the _fiasco,_ as Randal called it, Rylton had a letter from her that somewhat startled him. It was extremely abusive, and rather involved; but the meaning of it was that he ought to be ashamed of himself, and that t.i.ta was too good for him. She wound up with a few very rude remarks directed at Mrs. Bethune, and a hope that t.i.ta would stick to her determination to cast off the tyrant--_Man_ (the capital was enormous), as personified by Maurice.
Rylton wasn't in the least annoyed by this letter; indeed, it somewhat puzzled him to find that he rather liked it, and he put it away in his private drawer, amongst the papers he cared for.
Margaret had taken t.i.ta to Rome, and thence to Constantinople. She had kept her moving about from place to place, hoping to clear her mind of all past deadly thoughts by constant change. She had a hope that by breaking off all old a.s.sociations, the girl might come to think of the past--and Maurice--in a more gentle, lenient light, and thus be prepared for a reconciliation in the future. To Margaret it seemed terrible that these two young people should be for ever apart--their lives ruined, their social position smirched.
A long separation from her own country--her own circle--might lead t.i.ta to desire a return to it--a return to her husband and her home.
Alas! not to the old home, however. She might desire a return to that with all her soul, yet nothing would come of it. It was gone!
Gone past recall! When t.i.ta's affairs were wound up, it was found that all should be sold, not only her other two houses, but the old home--the one beloved of her childhood. Oakdean came to the hammer a month ago!
Indeed, out of all her large fortune only a bare 300 a year was saved for the poor little heiress of yesterday! When t.i.ta was a.s.sured that even this small sum was honourably hers, she had insisted on her lawyers writing and offering half of it to Maurice--an offer I need hardly say refused. Maurice declined, naturally, but, unfortunately, very rudely, to touch a penny of hers.
So far t.i.ta was protected from actual poverty--poverty was much closer to Maurice at this time than to her; and, indeed, being with Margaret, who loved her from her heart, and would hear no word of her leaving her, hardly felt the change in her position. The loss of the old home--of Oakdean--had been, so far as Margaret could see, the one thing that had deeply affected her. Of Maurice she would hardly talk at all, but of Oakdean she would talk by the hour.
The wheels of law grind slowly, and it was not until last month that the actual sale of her beautiful home took place. The news came to her when she and Margaret were at Berne on their homeward way, and she had quite broken down. She had cried terribly over it night and day--so much, indeed, that Margaret, who had been astonished at her strength of mind over her loss of fortune, now began to regard her as devoid of it altogether. For days and days she fretted, eating scarcely anything, caring for nothing. It was when Margaret was almost in despair about her that she grew better, and let herself be amused by the ordinary occurrences of the day.
As for Rylton, these past six months had been the fullest of his life. Time had made him his shuttlec.o.c.k. Fortune had played with him. It had caught him when he was up in the world and flung him to the ground, and after that had seized him afresh, and sent him flying to a higher alt.i.tude than he had ever known before. As a fact, three months had not elapsed after his parting with his wife when his uncle (a comparatively young man) had died of typhoid fever, leaving him all his property.
It seemed the very irony of fate. A year ago, if he had had this money, he would not have even _seen_ t.i.ta. The marriage was an arrangement of his mother's, and now that he has got this money, of what good is it to him? His wife is gone, yet he still is wedded.
The first sense of comfort he got from his newly-acquired fortune was the thought that he could now give t.i.ta some of it.
But t.i.ta would none of it! The very fact that their cases had been so suddenly and so marvellously reversed made her the more strong in her determination to spurn any gift from him. She was now sitting on the lowest rung of Fortune's ladder, whilst he stood at the top; but, for all that, she would take nothing from him. Rylton wrote to Margaret, who scolded t.i.ta vigorously to no end; and so the matter stood. The first instalment of a very magnificent allowance was paid into t.i.ta's bank, and rested there untouched, doing no good to anybody.
”It is senseless! As his wife, you are ent.i.tled to some of his money. It is not a gift,” said Margaret angrily.
But t.i.ta had laughed, and tore his letter to Margaret in two.
”He wouldn't take my small gift,” said she, alluding to that offer of hers of the half of her tiny income. ”And now it does me _good_ to be able to refuse his big one.”
”But it isn't a gift; it is your right,” Margaret urged again; but all in vain.