CHAPTER X.
RETURNING to his office, Mr. Troy discovered, among the correspondencethat was waiting for him, a letter from the very person whose welfarewas still the uppermost subject in his mind. Isabel Miller wrote inthese terms:
"Dear Sir--My aunt, Miss Pink, is very desirous of consulting youprofessionally at the earliest opportunity. Although South Morden iswithin little more than half an hour's railway ride from London, MissPink does not presume to ask you to visit her, being well aware of thevalue of your time. Will you, therefore, be so kind as to let me knowwhen it will be convenient to you to receive my aunt at your office inLondon? Believe me, dear sir, respectfully yours, ISABEL MILLER.P.S.--I am further instructed to say that the regrettable event at LadyLydiard's house is the proposed subject of the consultation. The Lawn,South Morden. Thursday."
Mr. Troy smiled as he read the letter. "Too formal for a young girl!" hesaid to himself. "Every word of it has been dictated by Miss Pink."He was not long in deciding what course he should take. There was apressing necessity for cautioning Isabel, and here was his opportunity.He sent for his head clerk, and looked at his list of engagements forthe day. There was nothing set down in the book which the clerk wasnot quite as well able to do as the master. Mr. Troy consulted hisrailway-guide, ordered his cab, and caught the next train to South Morden.
South Morden was then (and remains to this day) one of those primitiveagricultural villages, passed over by the march of modern progress,which are still to be found in the near neighborhood of London. Only theslow trains stopped at the station and there was so little to do thatthe station-master and his porter grew flowers on the embankment, andtrained creepers over the waiting-room window. Turning your back on therailway, and walking along the one street of South Morden, you foundyourself in the old England of two centuries since. Gabled cottages,with fast-closed windows; pigs and poultry in quiet possession of theroad; the venerable church surrounded by its shady burial-ground; thegrocer's shop which sold everything, and the butcher's shop which soldnothing; the scarce inhabitants who liked a good look at a stranger, andthe unwashed children who were pictures of dirty health; the clash ofthe iron-chained bucket in the public well, and the thump of the fallingnine-pins in the skittle-ground behind the public-house; the horse-pondon the one bit of open ground, and the old elm-tree with the wooden seatround it on the other--these were some of the objects that you saw, andsome of the noises that you heard in South Morden, as you passed fromone end of the village to the other.
About half a mile beyond the last of the old cottages, modern Englandmet you again under the form of a row of little villas, set up by anadventurous London builder who had bought the land a bargain. Each villastood in its own little garden, and looked across a stony road at themeadow lands and softly-rising wooded hills beyond. Each villa faced youin the sunshine with the horrid glare of new red brick, and forced itsnonsensical name on your attention, traced in bright paint on the postsof its entrance gate. Consulting the posts as he advanced, Mr. Troyarrived in due course of time at the villa called The Lawn, whichderived its name apparently from a circular patch of grass in front ofthe house. The gate resisting his efforts to open it, he rang the bell.
Admitted by a trim, clean, shy little maid-servant, Mr. Troy lookedabout him in amazement. Turn which way he might, he found himselfsilently confronted by posted and painted instructions to visitors,which forbade him to do this, and commanded him to do that, at everystep of his progress from the gate to the house. On the side of the lawna label informed him that he was not to walk on the grass. On the otherside a painted hand pointed along a boundary-wall to an inscriptionwhich warned him to go that way if he had business in the kitchen. Onthe gravel walk at the foot of the housesteps words, neatly traced inlittle white shells, reminded him not to "forget the scraper". On thedoorstep he was informed, in letters of lead, that he was "Welcome!"On the mat in the passage bristly black words burst on his attention,commanding him to "wipe his shoes." Even the hat-stand in the hall wasnot allowed to speak for itself; it had "Hats and Cloaks" inscribed onit, and it issued its directions imperatively in the matter of your wetumbrella--"Put it here!"
Giving the trim little servant his card, Mr. Troy was introduced to areception-room on the lower floor. Before he had time to look round himthe door was opened again from without, and Isabel stole into the roomon tiptoe. She looked worn and anxious. When she shook hands with theold lawyer the charming smile that he remembered so well was gone.
"Don't say you have seen me," she whispered. "I am not to come into theroom till my aunt sends for me. Tell me two things before I run awayagain. How is Lady Lydiard? And have you discovered the thief?"
"Lady Lydiard was well when I last saw her; and we have not yetsucceeded in discovering the thief." Having answered the questions inthose terms, Mr. Troy decided on cautioning Isabel on the subject ofthe steward while he had the chance. "One question on my side," he said,holding her back from the door by the arm. "Do you expect Moody to visityou here?"
"I am _sure_ he will visit me," Isabel answered warmly. "He has promisedto come here at my request. I never knew what a kind heart Robert Moodyhad till this misfortune fell on me. My aunt, who is not easily takenwith strangers, respects and admires him. I can't tell you how good hewas to me on the journey here--and how kindly, how nobly, he spoke tome when we parted." She paused, and turned her head away. The tears wererising in her eyes. "In my situation," she said faintly, "kindness isvery keenly felt. Don't notice me, Mr. Troy."
The lawyer waited a moment to let her recover herself.
"I agree entirely, my dear, in your opinion of Moody," he said. "At thesame time, I think it right to warn you that his zeal in your servicemay possibly outrun his discretion. He may feel too confidently aboutpenetrating the mystery of the missing money; and, unless you are onyour guard, he may raise false hopes in you when you next see him.Listen to any advice that he may give you, by all means. But, before youdecide on being guided by his opinion, consult my older experience,and hear what I have to say on the subject. Don't suppose that I amattempting to make you distrust this good friend," he added, noticingthe look of uneasy surprise which Isabel fixed on him. "No such idea isin my mind. I only warn you that Moody's eagerness to be of service toyou may mislead him. You understand me."
"Yes, sir," replied Isabel coldly; "I understand you. Please let me gonow. My aunt will be down directly; and she must not find me here." Shecurtseyed with distant respect, and left the room.
"So much for trying to put two ideas together into a girl's mind!"thought Mr. Troy, when he was alone again. "The little fool evidentlythinks I am jealous of Moody's place in her estimation. Well! I havedone my duty--and I can do no more."
He looked round the room. Not a chair was out of its place, not a speckof dust was to be seen. The brightly-perfect polish of the table madeyour eyes ache; the ornaments on it looked as if they had never beentouched by mortal hand; the piano was an object for distant admiration,not an instrument to be played on; the carpet made Mr. Troy looknervously at the soles of his shoes; and the sofa (protected by layersof white crochet-work) said as plainly as if in words, "Sit on me if youdare!" Mr. Troy retreated to a bookcase at the further end of the room.The books fitted the shelves to such absolute perfection that he hadsome difficulty in taking one of them out. When he had succeeded, hefound himself in possession of a volume of the History of England. Onthe fly-leaf he encountered another written warning:--"This book belongsto Miss Pink's Academy for Young Ladies, and is not to be removed fromthe library." The date, which was added, referred to a period of tenyears since. Miss Pink now stood revealed as a retired schoolmistress,and Mr. Troy began to understand some of the characteristicpeculiarities of that lady's establishment which had puzzled him up tothe present time.
He had just succeeded in putting the book back again when the dooropened once more, and Isabel's aunt entered the room.
If Miss Pink could, by any possible conjuncture of circumstances, havedisappea
red mysteriously from her house and her friends, the policewould have found the greatest difficulty in composing the necessarydescription of the missing lady. The acutest observer could havediscovered nothing that was noticeable or characteristic in her personalappearance. The pen of the present writer portrays her in despair by aseries of negatives. She was not young, she was not old; she was neithertall nor short, nor stout nor thin; nobody could call her featuresattractive, and nobody could call them ugly; there was nothing in hervoice, her expression, her manner, or her dress that differed in anyappreciable degree from the voice, expression, manner, and dress offive hundred thousand other single ladies of her age and position inthe world. If you had asked her to describe herself, she would haveanswered, "I am a gentlewoman"; and if you had further inquired whichof her numerous accomplishments took highest rank in her own esteem, shewould have replied, "My powers of conversation." For the rest, she wasMiss Pink, of South Morden; and, when that has been said, all has beensaid.
"Pray be seated, sir. We have had a beautiful day, after thelong-continued wet weather. I am told that the season is veryunfavorable for wall-fruit. May I offer you some refreshment afteryour journey?" In these terms and in the smoothest of voices, Miss Pinkopened the interview.
Mr. Troy made a polite reply, and added a few strictly conventionalremarks on the beauty of the neighborhood. Not even a lawyer could sitin Miss Pink's presence, and hear Miss Pink's conversation, withoutfeeling himself called upon (in the nursery phrase) to "be on his bestbehavior".
"It is extremely kind of you, Mr. Troy, to favor me with this visit,"Miss Pink resumed. "I am well aware that the time of professionalgentlemen is of especial value to them; and I will therefore ask youto excuse me if I proceed abruptly to the subject on which I desire toconsult your experience."
Here the lady modestly smoothed out her dress over her knees, and thelawyer made a bow. Miss Pink's highly-trained conversation had perhapsone fault--it was not, strictly speaking, conversation at all. In itseffect on her hearers it rather resembled the contents of a fluentlyconventional letter, read aloud.
"The circumstances under which my niece Isabel has left Lady Lydiard'shouse," Miss Pink proceeded, "are so indescribably painful--I will gofurther, I will say so deeply humiliating--that I have forbidden her torefer to them again in my presence, or to mention them in the futureto any living creature besides myself. You are acquainted with thosecircumstances, Mr. Troy; and you will understand my indignation when Ifirst learnt that my sister's child had been suspected of theft. Ihave not the honor of being acquainted with Lady Lydiard. She is nota Countess, I believe? Just so! Her husband was only a Baron. I am notacquainted with Lady Lydiard; and I will not trust myself to say what Ithink of her conduct to my niece."
"Pardon me, madam," Mr. Troy interposed. "Before you say any more aboutLady Lydiard, I really must beg leave to observe--"
"Pardon _me_," Miss Pink rejoined. "I never form a hasty judgment. LadyLydiard's conduct is beyond the reach of any defense, no matter howingenious it may be. You may not be aware, sir, that in receiving myniece under her roof her Ladyship was receiving a gentlewoman by birthas well as by education. My late lamented sister was the daughter of aclergyman of the Church of England. I need hardly remind you that,as such, she was a born lady. Under favoring circumstances, Isabel'smaternal grandfather might have been Archbishop of Canterbury, and havetaken precedence of the whole House of Peers, the Princes of the bloodRoyal alone excepted. I am not prepared to say that my niece is equallywell connected on her father's side. My sister surprised--I will not addshocked--us when she married a chemist. At the same time, a chemistis not a tradesman. He is a gentleman at one end of the profession ofMedicine, and a titled physician is a gentleman at the other end. Thatis all. In inviting Isabel to reside with her, Lady Lydiard, I repeat,was bound to remember that she was associating herself with a younggentlewoman. She has _not_ remembered this, which is one insult; and shehas suspected my niece of theft, which is another."
Miss Pink paused to take breath. Mr. Troy made a second attempt to get ahearing.
"Will you kindly permit me, madam, to say a few words?"
"No!" said Miss Pink, asserting the most immovable obstinacy underthe blandest politeness of manner. "Your time, Mr. Troy, is really toovaluable! Not even your trained intellect can excuse conduct which ismanifestly _in_excusable on the face of it. Now you know my opinion ofLady Lydiard, you will not be surprised to hear that I decline to trusther Ladyship. She may, or she may not, cause the necessary inquiriesto be made for the vindication of my niece's character. In a matter soserious as this--I may say, in a duty which I owe to the memories ofmy sister and my parents--I will not leave the responsibility to LadyLydiard. I will take it on myself. Let me add that I am able to pay thenecessary expenses. The earlier years of my life, Mr. Troy, have beenpassed in the tuition of young ladies. I have been happy in meriting theconfidence of parents; and I have been strict in observing the goldenrules of economy. On my retirement, I have been able to invest a modest,a very modest, little fortune in the Funds. A portion of it is at theservice of my niece for the recovery of her good name; and I desire toplace the necessary investigation confidentially in your hands. You areacquainted with the case, and the case naturally goes to you. I couldnot prevail on myself--I really could not prevail on myself--to mentionit to a stranger. That is the business on which I wished to consult you.Please say nothing more about Lady Lydiard--the subject is inexpressiblydisagreeable to me. I will only trespass on your kindness to tell me ifI have succeeded in making myself understood."
Miss Pink leaned back in her chair, at the exact angle permitted by thelaws of propriety; rested her left elbow on the palm of her right hand,and lightly supported her cheek with her forefinger and thumb. In thisposition she waited Mr. Troy's answer--the living picture of humanobstinacy in its most respectable form.
If Mr. Troy had not been a lawyer--in other words, if he had not beenprofessionally capable of persisting in his own course, in the face ofevery conceivable difficulty and discouragement--Miss Pink might haveremained in undisturbed possession of her own opinions. As it was, Mr.Troy had got his hearing at last; and no matter how obstinately shemight close her eyes to it, Miss Pink was now destined to have the otherside of the case presented to her view.
"I am sincerely obliged to you, madam, for the expression of yourconfidence in me," Mr. Troy began; "at the same time, I must beg you toexcuse me if I decline to accept your proposal."
Miss Pink had not expected to receive such an answer as this. Thelawyer's brief refusal surprised and annoyed her.
"Why do you decline to assist me?" she asked.
"Because," answered Mr. Troy, "my services are already engaged, in MissIsabel's interest, by a client whom I have served for more than twentyyears. My client is--"
Miss Pink anticipated the coming disclosure. "You need not troubleyourself, sir, to mention your client's name," she said.
"My client," persisted Mr. Troy, "loves Miss Isabel dearly."
"That is a matter of opinion," Miss Pink interposed.
"And believes in Miss Isabel's innocence," proceeded the irrepressiblelawyer, "as firmly as you believe in it yourself."
Miss Pink (being human) had a temper; and Mr. Troy had found his way toit.
"If Lady Lydiard believes in my niece's innocence," said Miss Pink,suddenly sitting bolt upright in her chair, "why has my niece beencompelled, in justice to herself, to leave Lady Lydiard's house?"
"You will admit, madam," Mr. Troy answered cautiously, "that we are allof us liable, in this wicked world, to be the victims of appearances.Your niece is a victim--an innocent victim. She wisely withdraws fromLady Lydiard's house until appearances are proved to be false and herposition is cleared up."
Miss Pink had her reply ready. "That is simply acknowledging, in otherwords, that my niece is suspected. I am only a woman, Mr. Troy--but itis not quite so easy to mislead me as you seem to suppose."
Mr. Troy's temper was admirably tr
ained. But it began to acknowledgethat Miss Pink's powers of irritation could sting to some purpose.
"No intention of misleading you, madam, has ever crossed my mind," herejoined warmly. "As for your niece, I can tell you this. In all myexperience of Lady Lydiard, I never saw her so distressed as she waswhen Miss Isabel left the house!"
"Indeed!" said Miss Pink, with an incredulous smile. "In my rank oflife, when we feel distressed about a person, we do our best to comfortthat person by a kind letter or an early visit. But then I am not a ladyof title."
"Lady Lydiard engaged herself to call on Miss Isabel in my hearing,"said Mr. Troy. "Lady Lydiard is the most generous woman living!"
"Lady Lydiard is here!" cried a joyful voice on the other side of thedoor.
At the same moment, Isabel burst into the room in a state of excitementwhich actually ignored the formidable presence of Miss Pink. "I beg yourpardon, aunt! I was upstairs at the window, and I saw the carriagestop at the gate. And Tommie has come, too! The darling saw me at thewindow!" cried the poor girl, her eyes sparkling with delight as aperfect explosion of barking made itself heard over the tramp of horses'feet and the crash of carriage wheels outside.
Miss Pink rose slowly, with a dignity that looked capable of adequatelyreceiving--not one noble lady only, but the whole peerage of England.
"Control yourself, dear Isabel," she said. "No well-bred young ladypermits herself to become unduly excited. Stand by my side--a littlebehind me."
Isabel obeyed. Mr. Troy kept his place, and privately enjoyed histriumph over Miss Pink. If Lady Lydiard had been actually in league withhim, she could not have chosen a more opportune time for her visit. Amomentary interval passed. The carriage drew up at the door; the horsestrampled on the gravel; the bell rung madly; the uproar of Tommie,released from the carriage and clamoring to be let in, redoubled itsfury. Never before had such an unruly burst of noises invaded thetranquility of Miss Pink's villa!