Mattie:-A Stray Volume III Part 24

All things have an end; Mattie was free at last. At last the door locked, and the room she had longed for, feared, and longed for again, engulphing her. Mattie took off her bonnet, opened noiselessly the window for the air which she felt she needed, and then dropped into a chair, and looked out at the dark sky, and the bright stars that were s.h.i.+mmering up there, where all seemed peace!

The battle was not over, and Mattie was unconvinced still.

"Is it true?" she asked again; "is it ALL true!"

CHAPTER III.

HALF THE TRUTH.

Mattie, as we are already aware, had found Mr. Wesden the sole occupant of that house in Camberwell, whither the stationer had retired from the stirring business of life. He was alone, dull and dispirited; Harriet had gone to a thanksgiving festival at her favourite church, and her father, whom night-air affected now, was left to read his newspaper, or to think of old times, as his inclination might suggest.

Harriet always offered to remain at home to keep her father company, but old Wesden was not a selfish man; he offered no objection to her departure; it would do her good, and be a change for her. It had long ago suggested itself to him that there was nothing like change to keep Harriet well and all unpleasant thoughts away from her; and if it were only the mild excitement of religious change, it was better than brooding at home over events which had pa.s.sed and left marks of their ravages.

Mr. Wesden brightened up at Mattie's visit; he had put away his pipe, and was sitting with his feet on the fender and his hands on his knees, thinking of his daughter and of the chance she had lost in not marrying Maurice Hinchford, when Mattie intruded on his reverie.

The old friends--friends who had quarrelled and made it up, and become the best of friends again--sat down together and talked of the past, of what a business that was in Suffolk Street once, slow, and sure, and money-getting. Mr. Wesden was inclined to talk more in his old age, Mattie fancied, and when he drifted to the usual subject with which all topics invariably ended--his daughter--Mattie did not stop him.

She had come to find out the truth, if possible--to make sure! Next to Sidney Hinchford, stood Harriet Wesden in her regard; she remembered all that Harriet had been to her, all that impulsiveness of action combined with steadiness of love which had won Mattie towards her in the early days, and was not likely to turn her from her then.

But the truth had been hard to arrive at; Mr. Wesden spoke of Harriet's new pursuits, of her indignation at Maurice Hinchford's offer; he could tell her little more than Maurice Hinchford had done, save that there were times when his daughter seemed very dull and thoughtful.

"P'raps it's the church, Mattie," he had said; "I wish you'd come more often and talk to her, like--like you used."

"She does not think that I have neglected her--forgotten her?"

"Oh! no."

"When I meet her here, she seems very different to me--almost cold at times," said Mattie.

"Only her way, Mattie," explained the father, "she's very different to all, now. She was more like herself after Mr. Hinchford called--Lor'!

that roused her for a day or two beautifully. It was quite a treat to see her out of temper all the next day--flouting like!"

Mattie waited till half-past eight, and then took her leave, thinking that she would go home by the church-way and meet Harriet. But Harriet had gone round by the main thoroughfare, having a call to make, and so the old companions missed each other.

Mattie scarcely knew what she should have said to Harriet on meeting her, save the usual commonplace remarks; she fancied that she might have told her story of Sidney's proposal, and watched the effect--might have looked her sternly in the face, and asked if it were all true that Maurice Hinchford had a.s.serted. It depended upon circ.u.mstances what she would have confessed or a.s.serted; after all, did it matter what were Harriet Wesden's feelings, if Sidney had ceased to love Harriet and turned to Mattie Gray?

But Sidney was blind _then_, and his heart, ever full of grat.i.tude, had deceived him. Perhaps he _had_ read her secret by some means, and taken pity on her. _Pity!_--and she had told him that she scorned it! Well, true or false, right or wrong, she must wait a few days longer--for better, for worse, there was no keeping that truth back, unless it died with Sidney.

Mattie made the best of it, as usual. Hers was a mind of uncommon strength, although her slight figure and gentle face suggested to an observer the very reverse of a "strong-minded woman." The next day, she was the Mattie that deceived even her father, who had been alarmed at her yester-night. She had got over her headache, she said; she could talk of business-matters, and of going to the warehouse for fresh stock, of the customers on "the books," and of the customers--a few of them by the laws of business--who were never likely to get off them. In the morning, too, came an immense order, that staggered Mr. Gray--an order for stationery, pens, ink, and paper, &c., from Hinchford and Son, bankers.

"They've given their relation a turn--I don't think Sid would like it much," said Mr. Gray.

Mattie affected an interest in these new customers, and Mr. Gray, who admired large orders, though he was not a worldly man, trotted about the shop and rubbed his hands. The first customer who entered, and told him that it was a fine day, was a.s.sured that "Yes it was. A fine order, a very fine order indeed!"

Orders taken, delivered, and goods paid for; time making inroads into the new week; people beginning to talk of coming spring, and of the cold weather breaking up for good; Mattie waiting for the summons to Sidney Hinchford's side, and wondering why Dr. Bario was so long; the hour in which to answer Sidney approaching, and she still unresolved as to what was best and just--for others, as well as for herself!

The message came at last--by special messenger, and private cab; a das.h.i.+ng Hansom, with the Hinchford crest on the panel, drawn by a thorough-bred mare, which brought out all the horse-fanciers from the livery-stables at the corner to look at and admire.

Mattie opened Maurice Hinchford's hastily written note.

"Dear Miss Gray," it ran, "we have resolved upon the operation to-day. Sidney is prepared--calm and hopeful of the result. I never knew a fellow with so little fear in him. Bring Miss Wesden if you think fit.

"Yours very truly,

"MAURICE HINCHFORD."

Bring Miss Wesden! Mattie had never thought of that, and for the first time the woman's natural jealousy seized her. Take her rival to his side, and let _her_ comfort him, and she standing aloof and unacknowledged!--why should she do that? Thrust upon Sidney Hinchford's thoughts, at such a time, the old love; let him _see_, perhaps, Harriet Wesden's beauty and her own plain face side by side, the very instant that he stepped back, as it were, to his old self!

Then came better thoughts--thoughts more true to this high-minded stray of ours. It was light, or madness, or death; if it were a failure, and he should die, swiftly and suddenly--if till the last he had deceived her, and his true nature were to a.s.sert itself, and he express a wish--one last yearning wish to see Harriet Wesden--what could she say?--in the future how that reproach of not having done her best would crush her with remorse!

She was in the cab; she had made up her mind; there was to be no longer any hesitation.

"Drive to Myer's Street, Camberwell."

The thorough-bred mare stepped out and cleared the roadway; the shop and the little excited man at its door were in the background, and Mattie was being whirled along to Mr. Wesden's house. In a very little while, Mattie was driven to the old friend's. Mr. Wesden was gardening in his fore-court, or attempting something of the kind, with a little rake he had bought at a toy-shop; he dropped his rake, and stared over the private cab and its occupant at the up-stairs windows of the opposite residence.

"Mattie," he said, when she was at the gate, and had opened it and entered before he had recovered his astonishment, "what's the matter?

Who's cab is that?--the stationery business won't stand cabs, yet awhile, I know."

"Where is Harriet?--not out again?"

"No, in the parlour--this way."

Mattie and Mr. Wesden entered the house. Harriet was in the front parlour--the best room, which had been Mrs. Wesden's pride, and a dream of the old lady's in business days,--working busily away at a pair of crimson slippers, with large black crosses on the instep--High Church slippers, every inch of them. Not slippers for a simpering curate to receive anonymously, as a mark of esteem from a fair unknown--Harriet was above that; but good colossal slippers, for the gouty feet of her pastor and master, who could not wear tight boots in the house, and had even been known to preach in something easy.

Harriet, who had noted the arrival, was ready to receive Mattie. She ran to her and kissed her. Harriet's first impulse was a kind and loving one whenever she met Mattie first; only as the interview lengthened, did her doubts--if they could be called doubts--step in and range themselves formally beside her, and render her almost reserved. The kiss with which they parted, always savoured more of the new Harriet, than of the bright-faced beauty whom Sidney had _once_ loved, Mattie thought.

"Harriet, I want you to come with me, if you will," said Mattie.

"I am rather busy just now, Mattie," said Harriet; "where do you wish to take me?"

"To see Sidney Hinchford," was the calm reply.

"To see _whom_!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Harriet.

Before Mattie could explain, Harriet added--

"What object can you have in taking me to him?--in coming in this strange hurried manner for me? Has _he_ sent you?"

"No."

"He has no wish that I should be near him, I am sure. This is eccentric and foolish--what do you mean by it?"

Harriet's haughty gesture would have done more credit to royal blood than to old Wesden's.