a crafty and worldly-wise woman, like mrs. north, can change her tactics as readily as the wind changes its quarters. the avowal of richard, that he was the master of dallory hall, so far as holding all power went--had been the greatest blow to her of any she had experienced in all these later years. it signed, as she perceived, the death-warrant of her own power; for she knew that she should never be allowed to rule again with an unjust and iron hand, as it had been her cruel pleasure to do. in all essential things, where it was needful to interfere, she felt that richard's will and richard's policy would henceforth outweigh her own.
madam sat in her dressing-room that night, mentally looking into the future. it was very dim and misty. the sources whence she had drawn her exorbitant supplies were gone; her power was gone. would it be worth while to remain at the hall, she questioned, under the altered circumstances. since the death of james bohun, and her short sojourn with sir nash, an idea had occasionally crossed her mind that it might be desirable to take up her residence with the baronet--if she could only accomplish it. from some cause or other she had formerly not felt at ease when with sir nash; but that was wearing off. at any rate, a home in his well-appointed establishment would be far preferable to dallory if its show and luxury could not be kept up; and all considerations gave way before madam's own selfish interest.
already madam tasted of deposed power. ellen adair was to remain at the hall, and--as richard had emphatically enjoined--was to be made welcome. madam gnashed her teeth as she thought of it. ellen adair, whom she so hated and dreaded! she lost herself in a speculation of what richard might have done had she persisted in her refusal.
but as madam sat there, a doubt slowly loomed into her mind, whether it might not, after all, be the better policy for ellen adair to be at the hall. the dread that arthur bohun might possibly renew his wish to marry her, in spite of all that had been said and done, occasionally troubled madam. in fact it had never left her. she could not make a child again of arthur and keep him at her apron-string: he was free to go where he would; no matter in what spot of the habitable globe ellen might be located, no earthly power could prevent his going to her if he wished to do so. why then, surely it was better that the girl should be under her own eye, and in her own immediate presence. madam laughed a little as she rose from her musings; she could have found it in her heart to thank richard north for bringing this about.
and so, with the morning, madam was quite prepared to be gracious to ellen adair. madam was one of those accommodating people who are ready, as we are told, to hold a candle to a certain nameless personage, if they think their interest may be served by doing it. matilda north, who knew nothing whatever of madam's special reasons for disliking miss adair--saving that she had heard her mother once scornfully speak of her as a nameless young woman, a nobody--was coldly civil to her on richard's introduction. but the sweet face, the gentle voice, the refined bearing, won even on her; and when the morning came matilda felt rather glad that the monotony of the hall was to be relieved by such an inmate, and asked her all about the death of mrs. cumberland.
and thus ellen adair became an inmate of dallory hall. but mrs. north had not bargained for a cruel perplexity that was to fall upon her ere the day was over: no less than the return of captain bohun.
it has been mentioned that sir nash was ailing. in madam's new scheme, undefined though it was at present--that of possibly taking up her residence in his house--she had judged it well to inaugurate it by trying to ingratiate herself into his favour so far as she knew how. she would have liked to make herself necessary to him. madam had heard a whisper of his going over to certain springs in germany, and as she knew she should never get taken with him there, though arthur might, she schemed a little to keep him in england. during the concluding days of her stay, sir nash had been overwhelmed with persuasions that he should come down to dallory hall, and get up his health there. to hear madam, never had so salubrious a spot been discovered on earth as dallory; its water was pure, its air a tonic in itself; for rural quiet, for simple delight, it possessed attractions never before realized saving in arcadia. sir nash, in answer to all this, had not given the least hope of trying its virtues; and madam had finally departed believing that dallory would never see him.
but on the morning after ellen adair's arrival, madam, amongst other letters, received one addressed in her son arthur's handwriting. according to her frequent habit of late--though why she had fallen into it she could not have told--she let her letters lie, unheeded, until very late in the morning. just before luncheon she opened them; arthur's the last: she never cared to hear from him. and then madam opened her eyes as well as her letter. she read, that sir nash had come to a sudden resolution to accept her hospitality for a short time, and that he and arthur would be with her that day. at this very moment of reading, they were absolutely on their road to dallory hall.
madam sat staring. could she prevent it, was her first thought. it was very undesirable that they should come. ellen adair was there; and besides, after this new and startling revelation of richard's, madam was not quite sure that she might continue to crowd the house with guests. but there was no help for it; ransack her fertile brain as she would, there seemed no possible chance of preventing the travellers' arrival. had she known where a message would reach them, she might have telegraphed that the hall was on fire, or that fever had broken out in it.
mrs. north was not the first who has had to make the best of an unlucky combination of circumstances. she gave orders to her servants to prepare for the reception of the guests: and descended to the luncheon-table with a smooth face, saying not a word. richard was out, or she might have told him: he was so busy over the reopening of those works of his, that he was now only at home night and morning. it happened, however that on this day he had occasion to come home for some deed that lay in his desk.
it was about four o'clock in the afternoon--a showery one--and richard north was quickly approaching the gates of the hall, when he saw some one approaching them more leisurely from the other side. it was mary dallory. he did not know she had returned; and his face had certainly a flush of surprise on it, as he lifted his hat to her.
"i arrived home yesterday evening," she said, smilingly. "forced into it. dear old frank wrote the most woebegone letters imaginable, saying he could not get on without me."
"did you come from sir nash bohun's?" asked richard.
"sir nash bohun's! no. what put that into your head? i was at sir nash bohun's for a few days some ages ago--weeks, at any rate, as it seems to me--but not lately. i have been with my aunt in south audley street."
"london must be lively at this time," remarked richard rather sarcastically; as if, like francis dallory, he resented her having stayed there.
"very. it is, for the tourists and people have all come back to it. i suppose you would have liked me to remain here and catch the fever. very kind of you! i was going in to see your father."
he glanced at her with a half smile, and held out his arm after passing the gates.
"i am not sure that i shall take it. you have been quite rude, mr. richard."
richard dropped it at once, begging her pardon. his air was that of a man who has received a disagreeable check. but miss dallory had only been joking; she glanced up at him, and a hot flush of vexation overspread her face. richard held it out once more, and they began talking as they went along. rain was beginning to fall, and he put up his umbrella.
he told her of mrs. cumberland's death. she had not heard of it, and expressed her sorrow. but she had had no acquaintance with mrs. cumberland, could not remember to have seen her more than once, and that was more than three years ago: and the subject passed.
"i hear you have begun business again," she said.
"well--i might answer you as green, my old timekeeper, answered me to-day. i happened to say to him, 'we have begun once more, green.' 'yes, in a sort of way, sir,' said he, gruffly. i have begun 'in a sort of way,' miss dallory."
"and what 'sort of way,' is it?"
"in as cautious and quiet a way as it is well possible for a poor man to begin," answered richard. "i have no capital, as you must be aware; or at least, as good as none."
"i dare say you could get enough of that if you wanted it. some of your friends have plenty of it, mr. richard."
"i know that. mrs. gass quarrels with me every day, because i will not take hers, and run the risk of making ducks and drakes of it. no. i prefer to feel my way; to stand or fall alone, miss dallory."
"i have heard richard north called obstinate," remarked the young lady, looking into the air.
"when he believes he is in the right. i don't think it is a bad quality, miss dallory. my dear sister bessy used to say----"
"oh! richard--what of bessy?" interrupted miss dallory, all ceremony thrown to the winds. "i never was so painfully shocked in my life as when i opened frank's letter telling me she was dead. what could have killed her?"
"it was the fever, you know," answered richard, sadly. "i shall never forget what i felt when i heard it. i was in belgium."
"it seemed very strange that she should die so quickly."
"it seems strange to me still. i have not cared to talk about her since: she was my only sister and very dear to me. rane says it was a most violent attack: and i suppose she succumbed to it quickly, without much struggle."
"that poor little cissy ketler is gone, too."
"yes."
"is ketler one of the few men who have gone back to work?"
"oh dear, no!"
the rain had ceased: but they were walking on, unconsciously, under the umbrella. by-and-by the fact was discovered, and the umbrella put down.
"who's this?" exclaimed richard. "visitors for madam, i suppose."
richard alluded to the sound of carriage-wheels behind. he and miss dallory had certainly not walked as though they were winning a wager, but they were close to the house now; and reached its door as the carriage drew up. richard stood in very amazement, when he saw its inmates--arthur, thin and sallow: and sir nash bohun.
there was a hasty greeting, a welcome, and then they all entered together. madam, matilda, and miss adair were in the drawing-room. arthur came in side by side with miss dallory; they were talking together, and a slight flush illumined his thin face. ellen, feeling shy amongst them all, remained in the background: she would not press forward: but a general change of position brought her and arthur close to each other; and she held out her hand timidly, with a rosy blush.
he turned white as death. he staggered back as though he had seen a spectre. just for a minute he was utterly unnerved; and then, some sort of presence of mind returning to him, he looked another way without further notice, and began talking again to miss dallory. but miss dallory had no longer leisure to waste on him. she had caught sight of ellen, whom she had never seen, and was wonderfully struck by her. never in her whole life had she found a face so unutterably lovely.
"mr. richard"--touching his arm, as he stood by arthur bohun--"who is that young lady?"
"ellen adair."
"is that ellen adair? what a sweet face! i never saw one so lovely. do take me to her, richard."
richard introduced them. arthur bohun, his bosom beating with shame and pain, turned to the window: a faintness was stealing over him; he was very weak still. how he loved her!--how he loved her! more; ay, ten times more, as it seemed to him, than of yore. and yet, he must only treat her with coldness; worse than if she and he were strangers. what untoward mystery could have brought her to dallory hall? he stole away, on the plea of looking for mr. north. madam, who had all her eyes about her and had been using them, followed him out.
there was a hasty colloquy. he asked why miss adair was there. madam replied by telling (for once in her life) the simple truth. she favoured him with a short history of the previous night's events that had culminated in richard's assertion of will. the girl was there, as he saw, concluded madam, and she could not help it.
"did mrs. cumberland before she died reveal to miss adair what you told me about--about her father?" inquired arthur, from between his dry and feverish lips.
"i have no means of knowing. i should think not, for the girl betrays no consciousness of it in her manner. listen, arthur," added madam, impressively laying her hand on his arm. "it is unfortunate that you are subjected to being in the same house with her; but i cannot, you perceive, send her away. all you have to do is to avoid her; never allow yourself to enter into conversation with her; never for a moment remain alone with her. you will be safe then."
"yes, it will be the only plan," he mechanically answered, as he quitted madam, and went on his way.
meanwhile ellen adair little thought what cruelty was in store for her. shocked though she had been in the first moment by arthur bohun's apparent want of recognition, it was so improbable a rudeness from him, even to a stranger, that she soon decided he had purposely not greeted her until they should be alone, or else had really not recognized her.
in crossing the hall an hour later, ellen met him face to face. he was coming out of mr. north's parlour as she was passing it. no one was about; they were quite alone.
"arthur," she softly said, smiling at him and putting out her hand.
he went red and white, and hot and cold. he lifted his hat, which he was wearing, having come in through the glass-doors, and politely murmured some words that sounded like "i beg your pardon:" but he did not attempt to touch her offered hand. and then he turned and traversed the room back to the garden.
it seemed as though she had received her death-blow. there could no longer be any doubt or misapprehension after this, as to what the future was to be. and ellen adair crept into the empty drawing-room, and leaned her aching brow against the window frame.
presently matilda north entered. the young lady had her curiosity even as her mother, and fancied some one was in sight.
"what are you looking at, miss adair?"
"nothing," answered ellen, lifting her head. and in truth she had not been looking out at all.
"ah! i see," significantly spoke miss north.
walking slowly side by side along a distant path, went captain bohun and miss dallory. matilda, acting on a hint from madam, would not lose the opportunity.
"captain bohun is losing no time, is he?"
"in what way?" inquired ellen.
"don't you know that they are engaged? he is to marry miss dallory. we had all kinds of love passages, i assure you, when he was ill at my uncle's, and she was there helping me to nurse him."
it was a wicked and gratuitous lie: there had been no "love passages" or any semblance of them. but ellen believed it.
"do you say they are engaged?" she murmured.
"of course they are. it will be a love match too, for he is very fond of her--and she of him. i think richard was once a little bit touched in that quarter; but arthur has won. sir nash is very pleased at arthur's choice; and mamma is delighted. they are both very fond of mary dallory."
and that ceremony, all but completed, only a few weeks ago in the church at eastsea!--and the ring and licence she held still!--and the deep, deep love they had owned to each other, and vowed to keep for ever--what did it all mean? ellen adair asked the question of herself in her agony. and as her heart returned the common-sense answer--fickleness: faithlessness--she felt as if a great sea were sweeping away hope and peace and happiness. the iron had entered into her soul.
