CHAPTER XXVII.
THE LIGHTS WERE DIM.
Early on that very morning Miss Hart tapped at Mrs. Bell's door. Thatgood lady was not fully dressed, but she appeared in a voluminousmorning robe to answer her young visitor's summons.
"I am going away, Mrs. Bell," said Miss Hart.
"Oh, my dear!" Mrs. Bell's full-moon face turned absolutely pale. "Goingaway, my love!" she said. She thought of her private hoard, not nearlylarge enough, and her voice became absolutely pathetic. "Going away,Miss Hart? I'm truly grieved to hear it. And haven't I made youcomfortable enough, my poor dear?"
"Oh, you misunderstand me, Mrs. Bell. I am going away, but only for alittle--just for a day or two. I don't know exactly when I shall beback, but probably in a day or two. I am going by the early train, and Itapped at your door to say good-bye."
Then Mrs. Bell in her delight and joy kissed Miss Hart, who soonafterwards left the house.
She walked to the station, the hour was early, and there was no specialperson about. She took a first-class ticket to a small town about thirtymiles away, and immediately afterwards her train came up.
During the greater part of her journey Miss Hart had the compartment toherself. By-and-bye fellow-passengers got in, who almost started back atthe sight of the pale face of the girl, who sat with her veil thrownback, looking straight out of the open window.
There was a strange expression on her face; her brows were slightlydrawn together, and the curves of her lips had a, weary and patheticdroop. She had taken off her gloves, and now and then she clasped herslender white hands together with a nervous, passionate tension. Thenthe look in her eyes became almost ugly, and her fellow passengers wereuncomfortable as they watched her.
At the little country town of West Brockley, Miss Hart alighted. She hadbrought all her luggage in a small handbag, and now she walked to herdestination. It was in the outskirts of the little town, and amongst arow of poor houses. She stopped at one of these, and entered by the opendoor. A woman met her in the passage.
"Is Mr. Hart within?"
"I don't know, madam, I'll inquire."
"No, don't do that. I'll go to him myself. He's at the top of the house,of course, as usual?"
"Why, as usual, madam? Mr. Hart has never been my lodger before."
"I know his ways. He invariably seeks the top."
"From no prejudice, madam. He seems a very quiet gentleman."
"Exactly. Treasure him, he is a valuable lodger. Now let me pass,please. I am going to seek him."
"Perhaps I had better tell him first, young lady."
"I am his grandchild. It is all right. Let me pass."
She brushed the woman aside, and flew lightly up the stairs. She knockedat the door of the top attic, but followed her knock into the roombefore any one had made response from within.
Old Hart was, as usual, messing over some cooking. He stopped it when hesaw Josephine, and an iron spoon which he held in his hand clatterednoisily to the floor.
"Now, Nina, what is the matter?"
"I am going to spend the day with you, Granddad, and probably the nightas well. You can give me a bed in a corner of this delightfulsitting-room. Is that breakfast? I wish you would serve it up; I amstarving."
"It's a very good breakfast, little Nina. Fried rabbit, done after a newmethod. Bacon and eggs to follow, with a sauce of port wine. Olives andsour claret for dessert. I know your taste, witch."
"I love olives," said Nina. "Sit at the table, Grand-dad, and let usbegin. By the way, when did you shave last?"
"Ha--ha, who have I to shave for now, my pretty Nina? Nobody cares forthe old man, nobody looks at him with eyes of admiration. Why should hewaste his money and his time over the barbarous rite of shaving? Naturehas her way with the old man now, sweet witch."
"Nature doesn't improve you, Grand-dad. You require the refining touchesof art. Your beard is unkempt, your hair too long. You shall visit thebarber after we have concluded our meal. It is distressing to mankind ingeneral to behold a spectacle like you. You owe a duty to the world atlarge. You must visit the barber."
"Chut--chut! What a witch it is! Why didn't it stay at home, and notworry the old man?"
"Serve up the breakfast, Grand-dad, and believe in the salutary natureof your granddaughter's visitations."
The two sat down to their meal, and both ate for a time in unbrokensilence. After his third glass of sour claret, the old man spoke:
"How are you, Nina? You don't look up to much?"
"Would you be up to much if a fever consumed you day and night? Feel myhand, Grand-dad."
The old man gripped the slender fingers, then flung them away.
"Good God! they burn!" he said. "Don't touch me, witch. You may havecontracted something catching."
"No, nothing that the old man can catch. Now, let us be pleasant, andenjoy the day together."
"We can't. I am going to move to-day."
"You must stay here to-day; you can move tomorrow."
"Witch, how you order me. I won't be ordered. I shall move to-day."
"You have no idea of moving, either to-day or to-morrow. Don't talknonsense. You have had your breakfast. I will wash the things up. Go andvisit the barber."
The old man muttered and mumbled. Finally he tied a large crimson scarfin a loose knot round his throat, shoved a soft felt hat on his head,and donning a greasy and very old brown velvet cloak, he prepared to goout.
"It's a rare nuisance," he said; "I meant to try some Chinese cookingfor dinner; something with a subtle aroma, delicate, and hard to obtain.You boil the leeks for so many hours, and catch the essence in adistiller. Bah! you care nothing for eating, witch."
"I like some of your dishes very well, Granddad, but I prefercleanliness to luxury. Now, go out and get shaved."
"It will cost me sixpence."
"Sixpence well spent. Don't talk any more; go!"
He blew her a kiss, half of derision, half of pride, and shambleddownstairs. A crowd of little boys followed him up the street; somepulled his cloak, some mocked him openly. He neither felt the pulls norheard the words. He was absorbed in the thought of that deliciousChinese dinner which he could not now partake of to-day.
As soon as he was gone, Nina, too, ran downstairs. She went to achemist's, and boldly asked for a small quantity of a certain drug.
"Have you a prescription?" the man inquired.
"No, but I understand the right proportions to take. Why do youhesitate? I am not asking for poison."
The man stared hard at the bright, queer face of his customer.
"The drug is not poison," he slowly repeated, "but taken in too largequantities it can inflict an injury. I will give it to you, but you mustenter your name and address in this book."
Josephine laughed lightly, entered old Hart's address in the book, paidfor her medicine, and departed. As soon as she got home she took out ofa cupboard a decanter which contained a small portion of a very brightand clear wine. She mixed a little of the powder with the wine. Itdissolved instantly, and did not disturb the rare amber of the liquid.The rest of the powder Nina threw into the fire, burning both paper andstring.
When Hart came back, shaven and neat, his hair shortened, his longsnow-white beard trimmed, he looked what he was--a strikingly handsomeman. His grand-daughter possessed his regular features, but, althoughher eyes were as bright as his, they were not dark. She had blackeyelashes and black brows, but the eyes themselves were peculiarlylight.
Nina was in an excellent humor now. She helped her grandfather with hiscooking, and by-and-by, as the day wore on, she tempted him to come fora stroll with her. She spoke very little of her present life, nor did hequestion her. He had a certain fondness for his grandchild, but it neverrose to the extent of a genuine interest in her concerns. Of late shehad been to him a valuable chattel--a trump-card, by which he couldextract the good things of life out of another. With Nina he waspowerful, without her he was a helpless and penniless old man. But hedid not love Nin
a because of this. He was proud of her for what shebrought him, proud of her because if he was lowly born she was not. Buthe loved her, after the slight fashion with which alone he could bestowlove, because, notwithstanding that good birth, she also belonged tohim--she was bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh. The ties of bloodwere strong with him, and because of these ties he loved her after hisfashion.
The two came home presently and partook of supper together. Nina boughtsome figs and peaches, and they had quite a dainty meal. Nina herselfprepared the board, and she put the decanter with the amber wine closeto the old man. He ate and drank. He said the wine was good, and hehelped himself twice to the sparkling contents of the decanter. "I feelin spirits to-night, Nina," he said, looking at his grandchild.
"Have a little more wine, Grand-dad," she said, in retort.
In spite of all her efforts, her voice had an anxious ring in it as shespoke. He looked at her keenly. He was as suspicious as man could be. Hehalf-stretched out his hand to seize the decanter, then with a sly smilehe replaced the stopper in the neck of the bottle.
"No, no, witch," he said. "This wine is rare and precious. It raises thespirit and warms the heart. I have not much more wine from so rare avintage, and I'll keep what's in the bottle for another night, when you,pretty Nina, are far away, and the spirits of the old man fail him."
"Do," she said. "Keep the precious wine, you don't need it to-night."
Then she handed him his pipe, and after a time he became drowsy and wentto bed.
Hart's bedroom was a small attic inside the larger one. He shut thedoor, looked round for the key, for he generally locked himself in,could not find it, and then, being very drowsy, undressed and went tobed.
Nina was to sleep on the sofa in the sitting-room. She lay down, took anovel out of her pocket, and tried to read. Her heart was beating hard,and that burning fever of unrest and longing which was consuming hervery life, kept coursing madly through her veins.
"The fever is my wine," she muttered. "At first it supplies falsestrength, false cheer, false hope. Afterwards--afterwards--" a queerlook came into her strange face--"I too, shall rest and sleep."
Profound stillness reigned in the next room. Nina softly rose, and goingto the sideboard took out the decanter of wine, opened a window, andemptied it into the area below. She washed the decanter afterwards andthen put it back into the sideboard.
There was not a sound in the inner room. Candle in hand, she opened thedoor and went in. She put the candle on the mantelpiece, and then goingto the bed, bent over it and looked at the sleeper.
"Poor Grand-dad!" said the girl. She stooped and kissed the old man'sforehead. "You have been good to me after your lights--it was not yourfault that those lights were dim. Had you been an educated man,Grand-dad, you'd have educated me; and had you been a good man, you'dhave taught me goodness; and a kind man, you'd have guarded your poorNina. Was it your fault that you were ignorant--and wanting ingoodness--and lacking in kindness? You did your best--, after yourlights."
Then she stooped and kissed him again. He was heavy from the drug shehad put into the wine, and did not stir. She slipped her hand softlyunder his pillow.
"Poor old man, I am taking away your trump-card," she said. She drew athick letter, yellow with age, from under the pillow, put it into herpocket, and taking up the candle left the room.