Part 4 (2/2)

He had come to lean more and more constantly on the companions.h.i.+p of Lettice. Mrs. Campion had never been the kind of woman to whom a man looks for strength or consolation, and when she condoled with her husband he usually felt himself twice as miserable as before. Some wives have a way of making their condolences sound like reproaches; and they may be none the less loving wives for that. Mrs. Campion sincerely loved her husband, but she never thoroughly understood him.

When the boy arrived with Sydney's telegram, Lettice intercepted him at the door. She was accustomed to keep watch over everything that entered the house, and saved her father a great deal of trouble by reading his letters, and, if need be, by answering them. What he would have done without her, he was wont to aver, n.o.body could tell.

Time had dealt gently with Lettice, in spite of her anxieties, in spite of that pa.s.sionate revolt against fate which from time to time had shaken her very soul. She was nearly five-and-twenty, and she certainly looked no more then twenty-one. The sweet country air had preserved the delicate freshness of her complexion: her dark grey eyes were clear, her white brow unlined by trouble, her rippling brown hair s.h.i.+ning and abundant. Her slender hands were a little tanned--the only sign that country life had laid upon her--because she was never very careful about wearing gloves when she worked in the garden; but neither tan nor freckle ever appeared upon her face, the bloom of which was tender and refined as that of a briar-rose. The old wistful look of her sweet eyes remained unchanged, but the mouth was sadder in repose than it had been when she was a child. When she smiled, however, there could not have been a brighter face.

Notwithstanding this touch of sadness on her lips, and a faint shadow of thought on the clear fine brows, the face of Lettice was noticeable for its tranquillity. No storm of pa.s.sion had ever troubled those translucent eyes: patience sat there, patience and reflection; emotion waited its turn. One could not doubt her capabilities of feeling; but, in spite of her four-and-twenty years, the depths of her heart had never yet been stirred. She had lived a somewhat restricted life, and there was yet very much for her to experience and to learn. Who would be her teacher? For Lettice was not the woman to go ignorant of life's fullest bliss and deepest sorrow to the grave.

She looked particularly slender and youthful as she stood that day at the hall window when Sydney's telegram arrived. She had a double reason for keeping guard in the hall and glancing nervously down the carriage-drive that led from the main road to the rectory front.

Half-an-hour before, a hard-featured man had swaggered up the avenue, fired off a volley of defiance on the knocker, and demanded to see Mr.

Campion.

”What do you want?” said Lettice, who had opened the door and stood boldly facing him.

”I want to see the parson. At once, miss, if you please.”

”Perhaps I can do what is necessary, if you will tell me what your business is. You cannot see my father.”

”Oh,” said the man, with a little more respect. ”You are his daughter, are you? Well, if you can do the needful I am sure I have no objection.

Three hundred and twenty pound seventeen-and-six”--here he took out a stamped paper and showed it to Lettice. ”That's the figure, miss, and if you'll oblige with coin--cheques and promises being equally inconvenient--I don't mind waiting five minutes to accommodate a lady.”

”We have not the money in the house,” answered Lettice, who had been reading the formidable doc.u.ment, without quite understanding what it meant.

”Ah, that's a pity,” said the man. ”But I didn't expect it, so I ain't disappointed.”

”It shall be sent to you. I will see that you have it--within a week from this date--only go away now, for my father is unwell.”

”Very sorry, miss, but I can't go without the money. This business won't wait any longer. The coin or the sticks--those are my orders, and that's my notion of what is fair and right.”

”The sticks?” said Lettice faintly.

”The goods--the furniture. This paper is a bill of sale, and as the reverend gentleman doesn't find it convenient to pay, why, of course, my princ.i.p.al is bound to realize the security. Now, miss, am I to see the gentleman, or am I not?”

”Oh no,” said Lettice, ”it is useless.”

”Then what I am going to do,” said the man, ”is this. I am going to get the vans, and fetch the goods right away. I may be back this afternoon, or I may be back to-morrow morning; but you take my advice, miss. Talk it over with the old gentleman, and raise the money somehow, for it really would go against me to have to sell you up. I'm to be heard of at the 'Chequers,' miss--William Joskins, at your service.”

Then he had gone away, and left her alone, and she stood looking through the window at the dreary prospect--thinking, and thinking, and unable to see any light in the darkness.

One thing, at all events, she must do; a message must be sent to Sydney.

It would not be just, either to him or to his father, that the extent of the disaster should be any longer concealed. She had just arrived at this determination, and was turning away to write the telegram, when the messenger from the post-office made his appearance.

In five minutes all the house was astir. A visit from Sydney was a rare occurrence, and he must be treated royally, as though he were a king condescending to quarter himself on his loyal subjects--which indeed, he was. When Lettice went to tell her father the news she found him seated by the fire, pondering gloomily on what the immediate future might have in store for him; but as soon as she showed him Sydney's telegram he sprang to his feet, with straightened body and brightly s.h.i.+ning eyes. In one moment he had pa.s.sed from despondency to the height of exultation.

”Two o'clock,” he said, looking at his watch, ”and he will be here at five! Dinner must be ready for him by six; and you will take care, Lettice, that everything is prepared as you know he would like to have it. Going into Parliament, is he? Yes, I have always told you that he would. He is a born orator, child; he will serve his country brilliantly--not for place, nor for corrupt motives of any kind, but as a patriot and a Christian, to whom duty is the law of his nature.”

”Yes, papa. And you will be satisfied when he is a member of Parliament?”

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