it had seldom fallen to the lot of james dugdale to experience more painful mental disquietude than that in which he passed the interval between the receipt of hayes meredith's letter and the arrival of his friend, accompanied by his son, at chayleigh. mr. carteret, always unobservant, did not notice the preoccupation of james's manner, and james had decided, within a few minutes after he had read the communication which had so disturbed him, that he would not mention the matter to the old gentleman at all, if concealment were practicable--certainly not before it should become indispensable, if it should ever prove to be so.
an unpleasant communication to be made to margaret! what could it be? the vain question whose solution was so near, and yet appeared to him so distant, in his impatience repeated itself perpetually in every waking hour, and he would frequently start from his sleep, roused by a terrible sense of undefined trouble impending over the woman who never ceased to occupy the chief place in his thoughts. the problem took every imaginable shape in his mind. the little knowledge he had of the circumstances of margaret's life in australia left him scope for all kinds of conjectures, and did not impose superior probability on any. was there a secret reason beyond, more pressing than her natural, easily explicable shrinking from the revival of pain and humiliation, which kept margaret so absolutely and resolutely silent concerning the years of her suffering and exile? was there something which she knew and dreaded, which might come to light at any time, which was soon to come to light now, in the background of her memory? was there some transaction of hungerford's, involving disgraceful consequences, which had been dragged into publicity, in which she, too, must be involved, as well as the dead man's worthless memory? this might be the case; it might be debts, swindling, anything; and the brilliant and happy marriage she had made, might be destined to be clouded over by the shadow of her former life.
james dugdale suffered very keenly during the few days in which he pondered upon these things. he tortured himself with apprehension, and knew that, to a certain extent, it must be groundless. the only real, serious injury which could come out of the dark storehouse of the past, into the present life of fitzwilliam baldwin's wife, must be one of a nature to interfere with her relations towards her husband. she could afford to defy every other kind of harm. she was raised far above the influence of all material evil, and removed from the sphere in which the doings of people like hungerford and his associates were ever heard of. her marriage bucklered her no less against present than past evil; on all sides but one. when james weighed calmly the matter of which he never ceased to think, he called in "the succours of thought" to the discomfiture of "fear," which in its vague has greater torment than in its most defined shape, and drew upon their resources largely. margaret had indeed been reticent with him, with her father, with haldane, even, he felt persuaded, with her sister-in-law lady davyntry; but had she been equally reticent with baldwin? he thought she had not; he hoped, he believed she had not; that the confidence existing between her and her husband was as perfect as their mutual love, and that, however strictly she might have maintained a silence, which baldwin would have been the last man in the world to induce or wish her to break, up to the period of her marriage, he did not doubt that margaret's husband was now in possession of all the facts of her past life, so that no painful intelligence could find him more or less unprepared than his wife to meet it.
it needed the frequent repetition of this belief to himself, the frequent repetition of the grounds on which it was founded, to enable james dugdale to subdue the apprehensions inspired by hayes meredith's letter. his delicate health, his nervous susceptibility, the almost feminine sensitiveness of his temperament, made suspense, anxiety, and apprehension peculiarly trying to him; and the servants at chayleigh, keener observers than their master, quickly found out that something was wrong with mr. dugdale, and that the arrival of the two gentlemen from foreign parts, for whose reception preparations were being duly made, would not be a cause of unalloyed pleasure to him.
the urgency of meredith's request, that there might be no delay in a meeting between himself and margaret, gave james much uneasiness, because, in addition to the general vagueness of the matter, he did not in this particular instance know what to do. hayes meredith did not wish her to be alarmed (which looked as if he believed her to be ignorant of the unpleasant intelligence to which he alluded, as if he contemplated the necessity of its being broken to her with caution), but he laid stress on the necessity of an immediate meeting. how was this to be accomplished? meredith had not thought of such a contingency as that which actually existed. he had supposed it probable mr. and mrs. baldwin would be in scotland when his letter should reach james dugdale, which must create a delay of a few days indeed, but he had not contemplated their absence at such a distance as must imply the postponement of a meeting for weeks.
james did not know what to do. to summon margaret and mr. baldwin to return at once, without any clue to the meaning of the communication awaiting them, would be to alarm them to an extent, which, under any circumstances within the reach of his imagination, must be unnecessary; and from the possible responsibility involved in not procuring their return he naturally shrank. he could not communicate with meredith, whose letter bore no address but "liverpool;" there was nothing for it but the painful process of patience.
mr. carteret talked of margaret more than usual in the interval between the arrival of meredith's letter and the day on which he was expected at chayleigh; the association of ideas made him garrulous, and he expatiated largely to james upon the pleasure which mr. meredith would feel on seeing his protégée of the bad old times so differently circumstanced, and the splendid hospitality with which he would certainly be entertained at the deane. baldwin would return sooner than he had intended, no doubt, in consequence of mr. meredith's visit to england.
when mr. carteret expressed his opinion, apparently oblivious of the fact that the state of margaret's health rendered her remaining abroad peculiarly desirable, james heard him with a sense of partial relief. it would be much gained, let the unpleasant business before them be what it might, if mr. carteret could be kept from alarm or pain in connection with it. if he could be brought to regard the sudden return of margaret as a natural event, considering his placid nature and secluded habits, it might be readily practicable to secure him from all knowledge of what had occurred.
there was strong anticipative consolation for james dugdale in this reflection. reason with himself as he would, strive against it as he might, there was a presentiment of evil upon james's heart, a thrill of dread of the interruption of that happiness in which he found such pure and disinterested delight, and he dared not think of such a dread extending itself to the old man, who had built such an edifice of pride and contentment on his daughter's fortunes, and would have so little strength to bear, not alone its crumbling, but any shock to its stability.
"let it be what it may, i think it can be hidden from him," said james dugdale, as he bade mr. carteret good-night for the last time before all his suspense should be resolved into certainty.
that particular aspect of nature, to which the complacent epithets "good old english" have been most frequently applied by poets and novelists, presented itself at chayleigh, in perfection, on the day of hayes meredith's arrival. "our english summer" has become rather mythical in this generation, and the most bearable kind of cold weather, keen, bright, frosty, kindly (to those who can afford ubiquitous fires and double windows), occurs in miserably small proportion to the dull, damp, despairing; winter of fogs and rain. it was not so between twenty and thirty years ago, however, and the eyes of the long-expatriated englishman were refreshed, and those of his colonial-born son astonished, by the beauty and novelty of the scenery through which they passed on their journey southwards.
chayleigh was one of those places which look particularly beautiful in winter. it boasted splendid evergreens, and grassy slopes carefully kept, and the holly trees, freshly glistening after a fall of snow, which had just disappeared, were grouped about the low picturesque house like ideal trees in a fancy sketch of the proper home of christmas. it was difficult to realise that the only dwellers in the pleasant house, from whose long low windows innumerable lights twinkled brightly, were two men, the one old in years, and older still in his quiet ways, in his deadness of sympathy with the outer world, the other declining also in years, and carrying, in a frail and suffering body, a heart quite purged of self, but heavy-laden with trouble for one far dearer than self had ever been to him.
fair women and bright children should have tenanted such a home as that to which mr. carteret, a little later than the hour at which they were expected, bade hayes meredith and his son a hearty if somewhat old-fashioned welcome.
when the post-chaise which brought the travellers stopped, james dugdale met his old friend as he stepped out, and the two looked at each other with the contending feelings of pain and pleasure which such a meeting was calculated to produce. time had so altered each that the other would not have recognised him, had their meeting been a chance one; but when, a little later, they regarded each other more closely, many familiar looks and expressions, turns of feature and of phrase, made themselves observed in both, which restored the old feeling of familiarity.
then james dugdale saw the strong, frank, hopeful young man, with his vivacious black eyes, and his strong limbs, his cheery laugh, and his jovial self-reliant temper once more, and found all those qualities again in the world-taught, and the world-sobered, but not world-worn man whose gray hair was the only physical mark of time set upon him.
then hayes meredith saw the pale, stooped student, with form awry and spiritual sensitive face, bearing upon it the inexplicable painful expression which malformation gives,--the keen intelligence, the sadly strong faculty of suffering--the equally keen affections and firm will. time had set many a mark upon james. he had had rich brown curls, the only gift of youth dealt lavishly to him by nature, but they were gone now, and his hair was thin and gray, and the lines in his face were more numerous and deeper than might have been fitting at twenty additional years. but hayes meredith saw that same face under the lines, and in a wonderfully short time he found himself saying to himself--"i should feel as if we were boys together again, only that dugdale, poor fellow, never was a boy."
"is mrs. baldwin here?" was meredith's first question to his friend, after the undemonstrative english greeting, which said so little and meant so much.
"no, she is abroad."
"how unfortunate!"
"what is the matter? is anything very wrong?"
"no, no, we'll put it right--but we cannot talk of it now. when can i have some time with you quite alone?"
"to-night, if you are not too tired," returned james, who was intensely impatient to hear what had to be told, but to whose sensitive nerves the strong, steady, almost unconcerned manner of his friend conveyed some little assurance.
"to-night, then."
there was no farther private conversation between the two. hayes meredith devoted himself to mr. carteret, whose placid character afforded him considerable amusement, in its contrast with those of the bustling and energetic companions of his ordinary life. to mr. carteret, hayes meredith was an altogether new and delightful trouvaille. that he came from a new world, of infinite interest and importance to england; that he could tell of his own personal experience, particulars of the great events, political, commercial, and social, to which colonial enterprise had given rise; that, as a member of a strange community, with all the interest of a foreign land, and all the sympathy of fellowship of race attaching to them, mr. carteret knew, if he had cared to think about it, and he might perhaps, merely as an intellectual exercise, have comprehended, that there was something remarkable about his guest in that aspect. but he did not care about it in the least. the political, social, and commercial life of either this half of the world or the other half was a matter of entire indifference to him. he was eminently desirous to ascertain, as soon as politeness warranted the inquiry, whether mr. meredith had brought to england the "specimens" which james dugdale had bespoken, and that point satisfactorily disposed of, and an early hour on the following day appointed for their disinterment from the general mass of luggage, he turned the conversation without delay on the cranial peculiarities of "black fellows," the number of species into which the marsupial genus may be divided, and the properties of the turpentine tree. on all these matters hayes meredith sustained a very creditable examination, and during its course rapidly arrived at a very kindly feeling towards his gentle and eccentric but eminently kind-hearted entertainer. there was a curious occult sympathy between the minds of james dugdale and hayes meredith, as the latter thought:
"if it could be hidden from the poor old gentleman, and i really see no reason why he should ever know it, what a good thing it will be!"
mr. carteret had taken an early opportunity of expressing, not ungracefully, his sense of the kindness which his daughter had received at the hands of mr. meredith and his family, and his regret that she was not then at chayleigh to welcome him. the embarrassment with which his guest received his courteous observations, and the little allusion which he afterwards made to margaret, though it would have been natural that she should have been the prevailing subject of their conversation, did not strike mr. carteret in the least, though james dugdale perceived it plainly and painfully, and it rendered the task which he had set himself--that of entertaining robert meredith--anything but easy. the mere notion of such a possibility as taking any notice of a boy, after having once shaken hands with him, and told him he was very happy to see him, and hoped he would make himself quite at home at chayleigh, would never have occurred to mr. carteret. about boys, as boys, he knew very little indeed; but if the word aversion could ever be used with propriety in describing a sentiment entertained by mr. carteret, he might be said to regard them with aversion. they made noises, they opened doors unnecessarily often, and they never shut them; they trod on people's feet, and tore people's dresses; they did not wash their hands with decent frequency; and once a terrible specimen of the genus, having been admitted to a view of his precious case of cape butterflies, thrust his plebeian and intrusive elbow through the glass. this was final.
"i don't like boys," said mr. carteret; "i don't understand them. keep them away from me, please."
he had listened with a mild shudder to haldane's praises of that "wonderfully clever child," the eldest miss crofton's "little brother;" and had turned a desperately deaf ear to all hints that an invitation for the urchin to inspect the wonders of the "collection" might be regarded by the crofton family as an attention.
"wonderfully clever, is he?" said mr. carteret musingly; "what a nuisance he must be!"
haldane did not mention the talented creature again, and no boy had ever troubled mr. carteret from that hour until now. he had the satisfaction of knowing, when his prompt invitation was extended to james dugdale's friends, that robert meredith was a big boy--not an objectionable child, with precocious ideas, prying eyes, and fingers addicted to mischief--had it been otherwise, his patience and hospitality would have been sorely tried.
"you will see to the young gentleman, foster," he had said to his confidential servant; "i daresay he will like a good deal to eat and drink, and you can see that he does not wear strong boots in the house, and--ah--hem, foster, you can make him understand--politely, you know--that people in general don't go into my rooms. you understand, foster?"
"o yes, sir; i understand," said foster, in a tone which to mr. carteret's sensitive ears implied an almost unfeeling indifference, but foster acted on the hint for all that, and the result was remarkable.
mr. carteret never once had reason to complain of robert meredith. the boy never vexed or worried him; he seemed to have an intuitive comprehension of his feelings and prejudices, of his harmless little oddities, and in a silent, distant kind of way--for though a wonderful exception, robert was still a boy, and therefore to be avoided--mr. carteret actually came to like him. in which particular he formed an exception to the entire household as then assembled at chayleigh, and even when it received the accession of mr. baldwin, margaret, and their little daughter. no one else in the house liked robert meredith.
the preoccupation of james dugdale's mind, the anxiety and suspense of some days, which grew stronger and less endurable now when a few hours only divided him from learning, with absolute certainty, the evil tidings which hayes meredith had to communicate, rendered his friend's son and his affairs objects of very secondary interest to him. when he thought of the business which had induced meredith to undertake such a voyage to england, such an absence from home, he roused himself to remember the keen interest he had taken in the father's projects for, and on account of, the son. but he could only remember it; he could not feel it again. when he should know the worst, when he and meredith should have had their private talk that night, then things would resume their proper proportion, then he should be able to fulfil all his friend's behests, with the aid of his hand and his heart alike. but now, only the face of margaret, pale, wan, stern, with the youth and bloom gone from it, as he had seen her when she first came home; only the face of margaret, transfigured in the light of love and joy, of pride and pleasure, as he had seen her last, held his attention. her form seemed to flit before him in the air. the sound of her voice mingled, to his fancy, with all other sounds. the effort to control his feelings, and bide his time, almost surpassed his strength. afterwards, when he recalled that day, and tried to remember his impressions of robert meredith, james recollected him as a quiet, gentlemanly, self-possessed boy, with a handsome face, a good figure, and an intelligent expression--a little shy, perhaps, but james did not see that until afterwards. a boy without the objectionable habits of boys, but also without the frankness which beseems boyhood. a boy who watched mr. carteret's conversation with his father, and rapidly perceived that gentleman's harmless eccentricities, and who, when he found that a total absence of observation was one of them, marked each fresh exhibition of them with a contemptuous sneer, which would not have been out of place on the countenance of a full-grown demon. he had a good deal of the early-reached decision in opinion and in manner which is a feature in most young colonials, but he was not unpleasantly "bumptious;" and james dugdale, had his mind been free to permit him to find pleasure in anything, would have enjoyed making the acquaintance of his old friend's son.
at length the two men found themselves alone in james dugdale's room.
"our consultation is likely to be a long one, dugdale," said meredith, as he seated himself close by the fire. "is there any danger of our being interrupted or overheard?"
"none whatever," james answered. he felt unable to speak, to ask a question, now that the time had come.
meredith looked at him compassionately, but shrugged his shoulders at the same time, imperceptibly. he understood his friend's sensitiveness; his weakness he could not understand. "i may as well tell you at once," he said, "about this bad business." he took a paper from a pocket-book as he spoke. "tell me the exact date of mr. baldwin's marriage."
james named it without adding a word. then meredith handed him the paper he held, and james, having read it hastily, looked up at him with a pale horrified face.
