Miss Merivale's Mistake Part 12

"And if you and Rosie had not come to the flat that afternoon, you might never have heard of her. How strangely things come about, don't they, dear Miss Merivale?"

"I am very glad we came," Miss Merivale answered. "What colour shall I use for this leaf, my dear? My eyes are not what they used to be, and I like to take advice."

Pauline bent forward to look, and patiently discussed the question; but she spoke of Rhoda again directly it was decided. "But something still more strange might have happened, Miss Merivale," she went on lightly.

"Suppose Miss Sampson had been your own niece? She might have been. People who are supposed to be lost in the bush aren't always lost, and--Oh, Miss Merivale, what have I said?"

Miss Merivale had dropped her work, and was staring at Pauline with wide-open, terrified eyes. She made no effort to answer her. She was incapable of speech.

"What have I said?" repeated Pauline. She got up and came close to Miss Merivale, kneeling down beside her. "You are angry with me. I have hurt you. Is it possible that Rhoda is your niece, and that you do not want her to know it? But you must trust me. Please trust me, Miss Merivale."

Miss Merivale put her hand up to her eyes. She spoke in a stunned voice.

Pauline's words had suddenly torn away the veil which had hidden the meaning of her own conduct from her.

"Yes, Rhoda is my niece," she said. "She is my sister Lydia's little girl.

What made you guess it?"

Pauline was slightly taken aback at this speech of Miss Merivale's. She had not expected her to admit the truth so readily. "Miss Merivale, you must trust me," she said in a low, eager voice. "I understand exactly why you want it to be a secret. No one shall ever know from me."

Miss Merivale pushed her chair back, freeing herself from the touch of Pauline's hands. A shock of repulsion had gone through her.

"It will be no secret after to-day," she said in the same stunned, heavy voice. "I shall tell Tom this afternoon. I ought to have told him before."

Tom came home late in the afternoon. He expected to find that his aunt and the girls had all gone to Bingley woods, and he only went to the house to change his riding boots before going to meet them. He pa.s.sed through the archway in the yew hedge, marking with tender, happy eyes the exact spot where Rhoda had stood that morning while they talked together. His feet lingered a little as he went down the turf path to the house. Everything in the garden spoke to him of Rhoda, and it was in the garden he had seen her first.

He went through the open window of the library and across the hall. As he reached the foot of the stairs he was surprised to hear his aunt's voice.

She was standing at the drawing-room door, with her hand resting heavily on the jamb. It was with difficulty she had crossed the room to call him on hearing his step. Her limbs were trembling under her.

"I thought you had all gone to Bingley woods," Tom exclaimed. "Have the others gone?"

"Yes; I would not let them stay at home. I was feeling too tired to go."

"You caught cold yesterday in the porch," Tom said in a playful scolding voice. "You do want a lot of looking after, Aunt Lucy. Have you a fire?

The wind is keen, though the sun is so bright. Here, let me make a better fire than this."

He knelt down on the rug, stirring the logs into a cheerful blaze. Miss Merivale sank down on the sofa and watched him in silence. If Tom had looked attentively at her, he would have seen that her face was grey with pain. She had spent some bitter hours since Pauline had spoken to her that morning. Though she had done it for Tom's sake, she feared that he would find it very hard to forgive her. And looking back over the last few weeks, she found it almost impossible to understand how she could have been happy for a moment while keeping such a secret from him.

The knowledge that Pauline shared the secret had been like a light brought into a dark room. Her shock of repulsion at Pauline's eagerness to convince her that she would be silent had been followed by the sad reflection that she had no right to blame Pauline for being willing to do what she herself had done for a month past.

"There, that is better," Tom said, getting up. "Let me draw your sofa close up to the fire. Where is your knitting, Aunt Lucy? I know you can't have your afternoon nap without it."

But Miss Merivale did not laugh at the old joke that she pretended to be knitting when she was really fast asleep. "Tom, sit down," she said. "I want to speak to you."

Tom hesitated. She had spoken in so low a tone he had not noticed how her voice trembled. "I thought I would go to meet them, Aunt Lucy. They will be coming back by this time."

"Sit down," she repeated more urgently. "I want to speak to you. I must tell you before they come home."

He was thoroughly startled now. "Has anything happened?" he said. "What is it?" He drew a chair close to her and sat down, his square, honest face full of concern. "What is it, Aunt Lucy?"

She turned away from him. It was more difficult to speak than she had expected, though she had known it would be very difficult. "Tom, it is about Rhoda," she said in a choked voice.

He straightened himself in his chair. "About Rhoda?" he echoed. She heard the challenge in his grave voice.

"Yes, about Rhoda. I want to tell you why I asked her here. You know that I love her, Tom. You know how happy it has made me to see that you"--

"Dear Aunt Lucy, I was sure you had guessed," Tom said in an eager voice.

"And"--

"Tom, wait," she said breathlessly. "You don't understand me yet. Has it never struck you as strange that I should have asked Rhoda to live here, that I should have treated her as a child of my own?"

No, Tom was not able to say that he had thought it strange. Rhoda being Rhoda, it had seemed to him most natural that his aunt should have loved her at first sight, just as he had done. But his voice was anxious as he answered, "Aunt Lucy, I don't understand in the least what you are driving at. What is it you want to tell me?"

She turned towards him, clasping her hands together. "Tom, Rhoda is Lydia's little girl. She is my own niece. I have known it ever since the first day she came to see me."

He stared at her, not comprehending. "How can she be Cousin Lydia's child?" he asked. "She would have known you were her aunt."

"She does not. She knows nothing. But, Tom, she is Lydia's daughter. I know it. I have known it all these weeks."

"But why"--he began, and then stopped, a dark flush rising in his face. He knew why his aunt had been silent.

"Tom, at first I tried to persuade myself I was mistaken," she faltered.

"And then, when I saw"--

He made a quick gesture that was full of pain. The flush in his face had faded, leaving it very white. "Aunt Lucy, do not speak of that," he said, turning his face aside.

{Ill.u.s.tration: HE STARED AT HER, NOT COMPREHENDING.}

She drew closer to him, putting her hand on his arm. "Tom, what do you mean?"

"Don't you see?" he returned, just glancing at her and then looking away again. "You have made it impossible, Aunt Lucy. I could never ask her to marry me now."

The bitterness in his voice overwhelmed her. "Tom, you don't suppose she would believe that you--Oh, what have I done? Tom, you will never forgive me!"

At the sound of the quick sob that choked her voice he turned quickly to her. "Aunt Lucy, do not talk like that. What is done can't be undone. But let me understand. What proofs have you that Rhoda is your niece? You must write to Mr. Thomson and tell him all you know. But he will want proofs."

He spoke so quietly, she took courage. And she was able to speak fully to him. He listened with grave intentness, asking a question now and then.

"We must write to this Mr. Harding," he said, when she had finished. "Mrs.

M'Alister will be sure to know his address. Shall I go up and see Mr.

Thomson for you to-morrow, Aunt Lucy? I think the first step is to tell him."

"And Rhoda, Tom?"

"Wait till I have seen Thomson. Though there seems no room for doubt. Aunt Lucy, I wish you had told me at first."

How she wished it she tried to tell him, but her tears prevented her. She sobbed hysterically, while he did his best to soothe her, forgetting his own pain at the sight of hers. When she could speak, her first words were of Rhoda.

"Tom, you won't let this come between you? Tom dear, I know she loves you."