The Daughter Pays Part 26

"_The moving finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on. Nor all your piety nor wit Can lure it back to cancel half a line, Nor all your tears wash out a word of it._"

--Omar Khayyam.

Next morning, when Virginia's breakfast-tray went up, there lay upon it a fat envelope, addressed to her in pencil by Gaunt. It contained a packet of bank-notes, with the intimation that this was her first quarter's allowance of pocket-money. He added that he should expect her to keep an account of what she spent, and that her account-book should be accessible to him on demand.

He hardly knew how to describe the impulse which made him throw in that stipulation. It came primarily from a desire to gloat over the beauties of this character so suddenly revealed to him. He wanted to know what proportion of his somewhat lavish gift was spent upon herself, and how much went to the shark at Laburnum Villa.

There was another lurking idea. He could not, or, rather, would not, fling away his control over her while as yet he had no other ties with which to bind her to himself. Had he yielded to his first impulse, and thrown himself at her feet for pardon, the result could be easily forecast. She would give him a gentle, chilly forgiveness, and he would have to step back and let her go, see her pa.s.s away altogether, without any knowledge of him, ignorant of what manner of man he really was.

If he abandoned his present position entirely, he must, logically, admit that he had no more right to her than the nearest man breaking stones in the road. She would stoop to bestow forgiveness, and then depart; and it dawned upon him that, embarra.s.sing though her presence had now become, her absence would be worse. These few days of her sojourn had already wrought a subtle change in all about him. When he met Grover coming upstairs with a tray, her face wore a look of interest, of sympathy, which he had never before observed. She had taken to putting flowers about the rooms--a wholly new departure at Omberleigh. Only that morning he had caught Mrs. Wells half-way upstairs with a sheepish expression of countenance, and something concealed under her ap.r.o.n, which, on inquiry, was admitted to be kittens, the mistress having expressed a desire for their company.

After the woman had pa.s.sed, he lingered on the stairs, heard her admitted, heard the little spontaneous exclamation of pleasure which greeted the appearance of the babes. The chattering, laughing voices of Wells and Grover were blended with a faint mewing. It was all very childish, and as he went down he thought he scorned it. But if it were all to cease?

These considerations, formless and not consciously held, were, as a fact, of more weight with him than even the other aspect of the question--the scandal that would arise, the talk that must ensue, the contemptuous pity that he might receive--should his marriage experiment abruptly terminate at the end of so brief a trial. Just then he saw no way to end the present situation. He must wait and allow it to develop.

He must make further proof of the spotless integrity of his wife. She was not strong enough to face a scene as yet. He could not see clearly, his thoughts were confused. For the first time in twenty years he found himself no longer pursuing one aim with reckless disregard of everything else, but fumbling, hesitating, uncertain what to do.

He was a J.P., and this was his day for sitting on the bench. He had a long way to drive to the court. It was an important occasion, since there had been considerable disorder in Hoadlam, a large manufacturing town, and many of those implicated came from his own district. Gaunt's knowledge of law was valuable to his fellow magistrates, and he had had the previous day a note from Lord St. Aukmund congratulating him on his marriage, but begging him not to let his honeymoon prevent him from attending that day. This note Gaunt enclosed with the bank-notes to his wife, telling her that he must be away all day. He added:

_If Mrs. Ferris asks you again to go out with her, I should advise your accepting if you feel well enough._

That day was pouring wet, and he reached home so late that it seemed wrong to disturb Virginia. The next morning Hugh Caunter came for him before seven o'clock. The flooding of the meadow where the tree had fallen had become serious. Gaunt arose and went out, breakfasted with Caunter at his house, and did not get home till nearly noon. He returned by the uphill avenue which approached the house by way of the garden--that avenue down which he had plunged in the moonlight, trying to allay the disorder of his mind after reading Virginia's letter.

As he walked somewhat slowly up the road, which grew steeper as it entered the garden, he heard the sound of voices on the breeze. The morning, which had broken cloudy, had developed into a fine, warm day.

The heavy rain of yesterday had brought out the scents of the flowers, and the very earth was fragrant. On the terrace, in a lounge chair, lay Virginia, and Joey Ferris was sitting near, relating something in her loud, hearty tones, some story which brought laughter from the listening girl.

Gaunt's heart began to thump. He had not seen her since his treachery and subsequent conversion. He left the avenue and struck into a path which would bring him to where they sat. The chair in which his wife was placed had a striped awning to keep her from the sun. She therefore wore no hat. He thought her more like a patron saint--a Virgin martyr--than ever. The background might have been the canopy in some old Florentine painting, with a glimpse of flowery garden seen beyond.

He had the mortification of seeing the laughter wiped from her face as she caught sight of him.

"There is my husband," said she to Joey; and Mrs. Ferris jumped up, too eager to shower congratulations upon the bridegroom to heed the expression of either face.

She ran along the terrace to meet him, intercepted him, shook hands as with the handle of a pump, shouted her chaff upon his change of att.i.tude towards things feminine. He bore it marvellously, managing to approach nearer Virginia's chair while the storm broke over him. As soon as he could get in a word:

"You are very good," he said, "and I expect I deserve all you say. Men, after all, are only very moderately intelligent animals, you know. They have to wait until some lady takes enough interest in them to teach them these things. But forgive me a moment--I had to go out before seven this morning, and have not seen my wife. I must just ask her how she is."

He drew up a chair close to the couch, and took an unwilling hand in his. Things psychological did not, as a rule, interest him, but now he found himself wondering how it was possible to withdraw all response from a warm, living hand so that it should lie in one's own like something dead.

"How are you this morning?" he asked.

His eyes seemed to her to be imploring her to play up, not to allow Mrs. Ferris to suppose that she was scared. "Why, you can see how much better I am," she answered, responding to the unspoken desire, but withdrawing her hand from his clasp. "Here am I out here in the suns.h.i.+ne, and it is so nice. I am planning what you ought to do with this terrace garden. Mrs. Ferris is fond of gardens, too."

"Indeed!" He turned politely to Joey. "You're not satisfied with mine, either of you, that's evident," he said, with an immense effort to be friendly.

"Oh, it isn't my place to criticise," laughed Joey gaily. "But Mrs.

Gaunt has got taste. She says she has been lying at her window, the past few days, thinking what she could do here; and if it was done, you'd have the show-garden of the county!"

"If she wants it done, you may feel pretty sure it will be done," said Gaunt; and he saw the slight curl of the mouth he was watching, at what Virginia took to be a cruel bit of mockery. "I am much indebted to you, Mrs. Ferris, for coming to cheer up my girl," he went on hurriedly.

"She is doing a kind of rest-cure, you know, and it's rather hard lines, both on her and me. However, it is very necessary. She has been overtaxing her strength for months, and we must be patient until she is quite strong again."

"You're a regular trump," replied Joey with warmth. "You bet she'll pick up soon enough in this air, and with everything she wants. I am coming to fetch her in the motor this afternoon. Shall you mind if I take her home to tea? I want to show her my kiddies."

He expressed his entire willingness that they should amuse themselves as they liked, and for some minutes the talk sounded almost natural.

"Have you pressed Mrs. Ferris to stay to lunch, Virginia?" asked Gaunt after ten minutes' chat.

She lifted her eyes to his as she answered quite shortly: "No."

"But, of course, you understand that we shall insist upon your staying?" said Gaunt almost courteously to the visitor.

"Jolly nice of you, but can't be done," replied Joey. "Got my old man and the kiddies to consider. They have a kind of idea that they can't eat their food unless I'm there. I must be off at once." She stood up.

"You see, I came on foot, through the woods, and I must get back, because I have to bring round the car, and also to get my big coat.

Mind you see that your Dresden china there is well wrapped up, won't you?"

"It must be over a mile through the woods," objected Gaunt, rising.

"Let me order the cart----"

She cut him short. "Bless the man! What's a mile? I do it in ten. I'm as strong as a horse. No, you don't come with me. Stop along o' your missus. I know every step of the way."

He accompanied her to the end of the terrace, saw her run down the hill and disappear through the little gate into the woods. Then he came slowly back to where his wife lay awaiting him with lowered lids. She was softly stroking two of the kittens who lay curled into b.a.l.l.s in her lap.

He sat down again beside her. His vicinity made her quiver, but she controlled her nerves valiantly.

"Thank you for the note you sent me yesterday," she said, "and the enclosure. I do not want so large an allowance as you are giving me."

"Try it for a year," he told her. "If it is too much, you need not spend it. Save it up against a rainy day."

"_A year!_" The words escaped her unawares. It was as if she said, "_A century!_" Well, he had told her it was a life-sentence. The prospect of that future made the suns.h.i.+ne dim, and for a moment she felt as though she could not bear it.

"While we are on the subject," he went on, ignoring the faint cry, though he heard it well enough, "I mean the subject of allowances, I am wondering whether I am allowing your mother enough. Since I saw you first I have let Lissendean at a very good rent, and I have been thinking I might spare another hundred----"

"Stop!" She was quite white--even her lips lost colour. "On no account!" she gasped. "It is quite enough--more than enough! You have bought me and paid the price. It is done with. I can't talk about it."

Her pallor frightened him. "By all means, if it affects you so," he replied at once. "I certainly don't want to bother you. Sorry I blunder so badly. Let us talk of something else. How did you get downstairs this morning?"

"Hemming was very clever. He remembered that the old ladies who lived here had a carrying-chair, and he found it in the coach-house. He scrubbed it, and Grover and he carried me down quite easily."

"Here comes Hemming to say that our lunch is ready," he broke in. "I can carry you indoors."

"Oh, no, no, please!" she broke out in distaste which she could not control. "Hemming is bringing the chair. Don't trouble yourself--I can easily----"

Hemming was quite near, so Gaunt made no further protest. Grover had likewise appeared, and soon had the invalid carefully placed in the chair.

"Doctor said this morning that 'twould do her no harm to put her feet down for meals, provided she don't stand on 'em," she remarked; and the two men picked up and carried the light weight into the house.

There was little embarra.s.sment during lunch, for they were not _tete-a-tete_. Grover and Hemming seemed to be hovering about Mrs.

Gaunt all the time with little dishes specially prepared, and they did not withdraw finally until the cheese was on the table. Then, indeed, silence dropped deeply. Evidently Virginia had come to the end of her former policy. He was to have no more "prattle." She sat quite silent, sipping her prescribed champagne and eating a biscuit.

Gaunt lit a cigarette, and smoked for a few minutes without attempting conversation. Then he rose, laying the stump carefully in his plate, and came to the hearth-rug, half-way between his place and hers.