Part 21 (1/2)
”That's my good girl!” said her father warmly; and they kissed each other with sympathetic affection.
Poor Hilary! She had need of all her courage to enable her to go through that morning's work. The servants received her orders with tears of distress and disappointment Norah came stealing out of the room with the news that Lettice had cried all night long, could not be induced to eat, and lay on her bed icy cold and trembling as if with an ague. Miss Carr was too much upset to be able to leave her bed, and Geraldine's straightforward questions were for once agonising to the listeners.
”Has Lettice been naughty?” she inquired. ”Has Mr Newcome been naughty? Will she never wear her pretty dresses? Shall I never wear my dress? What shall we do with all the presents? Shall we have to send back the cake?”
”Oh, Mouse, be quiet, for pity's sake!” cried Hilary in desperation.
”If you ask any more questions you must go to bed. It's very naughty and unkind;” at which unexpected reproof Geraldine's eyes filled with tears.
”I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Hilary; I only thought if you didn't want it, perhaps Miss Briggs's sister in Scarborough might like some cake--”
”Come along with me, Mouse, and I'll give you a swing in the garden,”
said Mr Rayner, coming to the rescue for the twentieth time. His presence was a comfort to every member of the household, and Hilary could never think of that dreadful morning without recalling the quiet, un.o.btrusive way in which he watched over her, and s.h.i.+elded her from every possible aggravation. When afternoon came, he insisted upon taking her to a quiet little coppice near the gates, so that she should not be in the house at the time of Arthur Newcome's visit; but from their seat among the trees they heard the sound of wheels as the fly turned down the drive, and knew that the dreaded interview was at hand.
”Lettice begged and prayed not to see him, father says, but he insisted that she should go down. He said it was only due to Arthur. Fancy what it must be to the poor, poor fellow, to lose her at the last moment, and to have to go back to London and explain everything to his friends--when the house is ready, and all preparations made. I feel so angry and humiliated that I can't be sorry for Lettice. She deserves all she suffers!”
Mr Rayner did not answer; and they sat in silence for five or ten minutes, at the expiration of which Hilary stole a glance at his face, and ventured a timid question.
”Are _you_ sorry?”
”Sorry for your sister? Yes--intensely sorry!”
”You think I am hard--unsympathetic?”
”I think you are hardly in a fit state to understand your own feelings to-day. It has been a great strain, and you have kept up bravely and well.”
Hilary's lip trembled, and she covered her face with her hands. ”Oh, I don't want to be hard, but it does seem so dreadful! She had a whole month to think over it--and then to bring all this misery upon him at the last moment. I feel _ashamed_! Surely, surely, it is easy to know whether one cares or not. If I were engaged--”
”Yes?”
”Oh, I don't know--I should never, never promise to marry anyone unless I loved him with my whole heart; but when I did, I'd stick to him if the whole world were against us.”
”I believe you would.” Mr Rayner hesitated at the end of these words as if he were about to say something further, but the hesitation ended in silence, and presently Hilary leapt to her feet and began to pace up and down.
”Oh, let us walk about. I can't sit still. I am too nervous. If we go along this path we shall not meet anybody, and it will pa.s.s the time. I can't bear to think of what is going on inside the house.” So for the next hour they walked up and down trying in vain to talk upon outside topics, and coming back again and again to the same painful theme. At last the sound of wheels came to their ears again. The fly could be seen wending its way down the country lane, and Hilary lost no time in running home to rejoin her father in his study.
He was standing with his arms resting upon the mantelpiece, his head buried in his hands, and when he turned to meet her, it struck the girl with a stab of pain that for the first time he looked old--an old man, tired and worn with the battle of life.
”Well?” she gasped; and he answered with a long-drawn sigh.
”Well--it is over! The most painful scene I have ever gone through in my life. He wouldn't believe me, poor fellow! Then Lettice came in.
He looked at her, and--the light died out of his face. It was very pitiful. He was brave and manly; would not blame her, or hear her blamed. I admired him more than I could have believed possible. He said very little. Stricken to the heart, poor fellow, and I could do nothing for him! He has gone back to town to stop preparations. I would have given my right hand to help him.”
”Father dear! You look so ill! It has been too much strain. What can I do for you now? Let me do something!”
”Send in Rayner to have a smoke with me. How thankful I am that he is here. He is a comfort and strength to us all!”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.