XX. A CUP OF TEA
After the tragic death of her husband, Lady Beltham--whose previous lifehad inclined to the austere--withdrew into almost complete retirement.The world of gaiety and fashion knew her no more. But in the world wherepoverty and suffering reign, in hospital wards and squalid streets, atall and beautiful woman might often be seen, robed all in black, withdistinguished bearing and eyes serene and grave, distributing alms andconsolation as she moved. It was Lady Beltham, kind, good and verypitiful, bent on the work of charity to which she had vowed her days.
Yet she had not allowed herself to be crushed by sorrow; after thetragedy which left her a widow, she had assumed the effective control ofher husband's property, and, helped by faithful friends, had carried onhis interests and administered his estates, spreading a halo of kindnessall around her.
To help her in the heavy correspondence entailed by all these affairs,she found three secretaries none too many. On M. Etienne Rambert'srecommendation, Therese Auvernois was now one of these, and the younggirl was perfectly happy in her new surroundings; time was helping herto forget the tragedy which had taken her grandmother from her atBeaulieu, and she enjoyed the company of the well-born, well-bredEnglish gentlewomen.
Lady Beltham was reclining on a sofa in the great hall of her house atNeuilly. It was a spacious room, furnished half as a lounge and half asan office, and Lady Beltham liked to receive people there. A largeglass-enclosed balcony commanded a view over the garden and theboulevard Richard Wallace beyond, with the Bois de Boulogne beyond thatagain. A few minutes before, a footman had brought in a table and setout tea-things, and Lady Beltham was reading while Therese and the twoyoung English girls were chattering among themselves.
The telephone bell rang and Therese answered it.
"Hullo? Yes ... yes: you want to know if you may call this evening? TheReverend--oh, yes: you have just come from Scotland? Hold on a minute."She turned to Lady Beltham. "It is Mr. William Hope, and he wants toknow if you will see him to-night. He has just come from your place inScotland."
"The dear man!" exclaimed Lady Beltham; "of course he may come," and asTherese turned lightly to convey her permission to the clergyman waitingat the other end of the line, she caught a smile on the face of one ofthe other girls. "What is the joke, Lisbeth?" she enquired.
The girl laughed brightly.
"I think the worthy parson must have smelt the tea and toast, and wantsto make up for the wretched dinner he got in the train."
"You are incorrigible," Lady Beltham replied. "Mr. Hope is above suchmaterial matters."
"Indeed he isn't, Lady Beltham," the girl persisted. "Why, only theother day he told Therese that all food deserved respect and esteemdirectly a blessing had been asked upon it, and that a badly cookedsteak was a kind of sacrilege."
"A badly cooked pheasant," Therese corrected her.
"You are both wicked little slanderers," Lady Beltham protested gently,"and don't know the blessing a good appetite is. You do, Susannah, don'tyou?"
Susannah, a pretty Irish girl, looked up from a letter she was reading,and blushed.
"Oh, Lady Beltham, I've been ever so much less hungry since Harry's shipsailed."
"I don't quite see the connection," Lady Beltham answered. "Love is goodnourishment for the soul, but not for the body. However, a good appetiteis nothing to be ashamed of, and you ought to keep your roses for yourfuture husband, and qualify in every way to be an excellent mother of afamily."
"With lots and lots of children," Lisbeth went on wickedly: "seven oreight daughters at the very least, all of whom will marry nice youngclergymen when their time comes and----"
She stopped speaking and the light chatter died away as a footmanentered and announced the Reverend William Hope, who followed himimmediately into the room, an elderly man with a full, clean-shaven faceand a comfortable portliness of figure.
Lady Beltham offered him a cordial hand.
"I am delighted you are back," she said. "Will you have a cup of teawith us?"
The parson made a general bow to the girls gathered about the table.
"I got a wretched dinner in the train," he began, but Lisbethinterrupted him.
"Don't you think this tea smells delicious?" she asked.
The parson put out his hand to take the cup she offered to him, andbowed and smiled.
"Precisely what I was going to observe, Miss Lisbeth."
Therese and Susannah turned away to hide their amusement, and LadyBeltham adroitly changed the subject. She moved towards herwriting-table.
"Mr. Hope must have much to tell me, girls, and it is getting late. Imust get to business. Did you have a good journey?"
"Quite as good as usual, Lady Beltham. The people at Scotwell Hill arevery plucky and good, but it will be a hard winter; there is snow on thehills already."
"Have the women and children had all their woollen things?"
"Oh, yes: twelve hundred garments have been distributed according to alist drawn up by the under-steward; here it is," and he handed a paperto Lady Beltham, who passed it on to Susannah.
"I will ask you to check the list," she said to the girl, and turnedagain to the clergyman. "The under-steward is a good fellow, but he is arabid politician; he may have omitted some families that are openlyradical; but I think charity should be given equally to all, for povertymakes no political distinctions."
"That is the right Christian view," the clergyman said approvingly.
"And what about the sanatorium at Glasgow?" Lady Beltham went on.
"It is very nearly finished," the good man answered. "I have got yourlawyers to cut down the contractor's accounts by something like fifteenper cent, which means a saving of nearly three hundred pounds."
"Excellent," said Lady Beltham, and she turned to Therese. "You must addthat three hundred pounds to the funds of the Scotwell Hill coalcharity," she said. "They will want all of it if the winter is going tobe a hard one," and Therese made a note of the instruction, full ofadmiration for Lady Beltham's simple generosity.
But Mr. Hope was fidgeting on his chair. He seized an opportunity whenLady Beltham, busy making notes, had turned her deep and steady eyesaway from him, to say in a low tone:
"Have I your permission just to mention--poor Lord Beltham?"
Lady Beltham started, and her face betrayed an emotion which she bravelycontrolled. Hearing the name pronounced, the three girls withdrew to thefar end of the room, where they began to talk among themselves. LadyBeltham signified her assent, and Mr. Hope began.
"You know, dear friend, this has been my first visit to Scotland sinceLord Beltham's death. I found your tenants still grievously upset by thetragedy that occurred nearly a year ago. They have got by heart all thenewspaper accounts of the mysterious circumstances attending LordBeltham's death, but those are not enough to satisfy the sympatheticcuriosity of these excellent people, and I was obliged to tell them overand over again in full detail--all we knew."
"I hope no scandal has gathered round his name," said Lady Belthamquickly.
"You need have no fear of that," the clergyman replied in the same lowtone. "The rumour that got about when the crime was first discovered,that Lord Beltham had been surprised in an intrigue and killed inrevenge, has not won acceptance. Local opinion agrees that he wasdecoyed into a trap and killed by the man Gurn, who meant to rob him,but who was either surprised or thought he was going to be, and fledbefore he had time to take the money or the jewels from the body of hisvictim. They know that the murderer has never been caught, but they alsoknow that there is a price on his head, and they all hope the police----Oh, forgive me for recalling all these painful memories!"
While he had been speaking, Lady Beltham's face had expressed almostevery shade of emotion and distress; it seemed to be drawn with pain athis concluding words. But she made an effort to control herself, andspoke resignedly.
"It cannot be helped, dear Mr. Hope. Go on."
But the clergyman changed the topic.
"
Oh, I was quite forgetting," he said more brightly. "The under-stewardhas turned out the two Tillys, quite on his own authority: you mustremember them, two brothers, blacksmiths, who drank a great deal andpaid very little, and created so much scandal in the place."
"I object to the under-steward doing any such thing without referring tome first," Lady Beltham exclaimed warmly. "Man's duty is to persuade andforgive, not to judge and punish. Kindness breeds kindness, and it ispity that wins amendment. Why should a subordinate, my under-steward,presume to do what I would not permit myself to do?"
She had sprung to her feet and was pacing excitedly about the room; shehad wholly dropped the impassive mask she habitually wore, concealingher real personality.
The three girls watched her in silence.
The door opened anew, and Silbertown came in, the major-domo of LadyBeltham's establishment at Neuilly. He brought the evening letters, andthe girls speedily took all the envelopes and newspapers from the trayand began to sort and open them, while the major-domo entered intoconversation with his mistress, and the Rev. William Hope seized theopportunity to say good night, and take his leave.
Many of the letters were merely appeals to help in money or in kind,but one long letter Lisbeth handed to Lady Beltham. She glanced at thesignature.
"Ah, here is news of M. Etienne Rambert," she exclaimed, and as Thereseinstinctively drew near, knowing that she, too, might hear something ofwhat her old friend had written, Lady Beltham put the letter into herhand. "You read it, my dear, and then you can tell me presently what hehas to say."
Therese read the letter eagerly. M. Etienne Rambert had left Paris aweek before, upon a long and important journey. The energetic old fellowwas to make a trip in Germany first, and then go from Hamburg toEngland, where he had some business to attend to on behalf of LadyBeltham, with whom he was on more confidential terms than ever. Then hemeant to sail from Southampton and spend the winter in Colombia, wherehe had important interests of his own to look after.
While Therese was reading, Lady Beltham continued her conversation withher major-domo.
"I am glad you had the park gate seen to this afternoon," she said. "Youknow how nervous I am. My childhood in Scotland was very lonely, andever since then I have had a vague terror of solitude and darkness."
The major-domo reassured her: he had no lack of self-confidence.
"There is nothing for your ladyship to be afraid of; the house isperfectly safe, and carefully guarded. Walter, the porter, is afirst-rate watch-dog and always sleeps with one eye open. And I,too----"
"Yes, I know, Silbertown," the young widow replied; "and when I givemyself time to think I am not nervous. Thank you; you can leave me now."
She turned to the three girls.
"I am tired, dears; we won't stay up any later."
Lisbeth and Susannah kissed her affectionately and went away. Thereselingered a moment, to bring a book, a Bible, and place it on a tableclose to Lady Beltham's chair. Lady Beltham laid a hand upon her head asif in blessing, and said gently:
"Good night; God bless you, dear child!"