Wild Heather

  CHAPTER XIX

  Aunt Penelope got better very quickly; having turned the corner, therewere no relapses. Whether it was my society or whether she was easierand happier in her mind, or whatever the cause, she lost her cough, shelost her weakness, and became very much the Aunt Penelope of old. Iwatched her with a kind of fearful joy. I was glad she was so muchbetter, and yet I trembled for the day, which I knew was approaching,when I must return to Hanbury Square. Aunt Penelope used to look at mewith the steadfast gaze which I had found very trying when a littlechild, but which I now appreciated for its honesty and directness. Itwas as though she were reading my very heart.

  Meanwhile, no letters of any sort arrived; not one from my father, notone from Captain Carbury. I pretended to be very glad that Vernon didnot write, but down deep in my heart of hearts I know that I was sorry;I know, too, that my heart beat quicker than usual when the postman'sknock came to the door, and I know that that same heart went down low,low in my breast, when he passed by without any missive for me.

  At last there came an evening when Aunt Penelope and I had a long talktogether. On that evening we settled the exact day when I was to returnto my father and to Lady Helen. We were able to talk over everything nowwithout any secret between us, and that fact was a great comfort to me.Once she spoke about my dear father's sin, but when she began on thatsubject I stopped her.

  "When you forgive, is it not said that you ought also to forget?"

  "What do you mean, Heather?"

  "Well, you have forgiven him, haven't you?"

  "I never said I had."

  "I think you have, and I think you must; and as you have forgiven, so,of course, you will absolutely forget."

  She made no reply for a long time. Then she rose, kissed me lightly onthe forehead, and said:

  "You are a good child, Heather, you take after your poor mother. Now goout and help Jonas with the tea."

  I went out, and it was that very day that an extraordinary thinghappened--that thing which, all of a sudden, changed my complete life.

  Jonas and I were in the kitchen; we were excellent friends. I was busybuttering some toast, which he was making at the nice, bright, littlefire. Tea had been made and it was drawing on the top of the range.There was a snowy-white cloth on the little tray, and when enoughbuttered toast had been made I was going to carry the tray into thedrawing-room, for Aunt Penelope liked me to do this, in order to saveButtons and give him more time to "look after the garden," as sheexpressed it. We were so employed, and were fairly happy, although weboth knew quite well that I must shortly take my leave, and that thelittle house would have to do without me--that Jonas would have nobodyto help him, and that Aunt Penelope would miss me every hour of the day.

  Well, as we were thus occupied, I suddenly heard someone run up thesteps which led to the front door. There were four or five steps, rathersteep ones. The person who ascended now must have been young and agile,for there was quite a ringing sound as each step was surmounted. Thenthere came a pull at the bell and a sharp, very quick "rat-tat" on thefront door.

  "Miss Heather, who can it be?" said Jonas.

  He had his toasting-fork in his hand and a great slice of tempting browntoast, which he was just finishing, on the edge of it; his round, veryblue eyes were fixed on my face. For no earthly reason that anyone cantell I felt myself changing colour, and I knew that my heart began tobeat in a very queer and excitable way.

  "What can it be?" repeated Jonas. "It's a man, by the step. I'll take apeep out by the area."

  "Oh no, Jonas, you mustn't," I said; but I might as well have spoken tothe wind. Jonas, toasting-fork, toast and all, were out of sight. Thenext minute he came tiptoeing back.

  "It's as smart a young gent as I ever laid eyes on," he said. "MissHeather, for the Lord's sake slip upstairs and put on your best'Sunday-go-to-meeting' dress and tidy your 'air, miss, it's ruffled fromdoing things in the kitchen, and take the smut off your cheek,and--there! I mustn't keep him waiting any longer. He be a bloomin' fineboy and no mistake."

  "Let me pass you, Jonas; I'll go first," I said, and in this fashion weboth left the kitchen, I rushed to my room--I wasn't above taking ahint from Jonas; soon one of my pretty frocks, which I used to wear atLady Helen's, was on once more, a white embroidered collar encircled mythroat, my hair was tidily arranged, the obnoxious smut removed, and Icame slowly downstairs. Jonas was waiting for me on the bottom step.

  "It's you he's asked for, miss--he's a captain in the harmy, no less.Carbury his name be. I 'as took in the tea, and my missus is chattingwith him as lively and pleasant as you please. You go in, miss; you'reall right now, you look like any queen. Ring if you want me, MissHeather; don't you be doing things yourself when a gent like that's inthe house. Ring and give your orders properly, same as if there wastwenty Jonases here instead of one. I'm not tired, not a bit of it; I'mreal pleased to see you looking so perky, miss."

  I put out my hand and touched his; he grasped mine in a sort of pleasedastonishment, and tears absolutely moistened his eyes.

  "Go in and prosper, miss," he said, and then he dashed downstairs.

  I entered the drawing-room.

  There was no one like Vernon. He had a trick of making friends withpeople in about two minutes and a half. It could never be said of AuntPenelope that she was a person who was brought quickly round to be cosyand confidential and friendly with anyone; it had taken me the greaterpart of my life to know the dear old lady as she really ought to beknown, and yet, here was Vernon, seated on a low chair facing the teatable, and absolutely pouring out tea for himself and Aunt Penelope! Helooked up as I entered, threw down the sugar tongs with a slightclatter, came towards me and gave my hand a squeeze.

  "She's much too weak, Heather, to be bothered making tea, so I thoughtI'd do it."

  "He is making it very nicely, Heather, my dear," said Aunt Penelope,"and I don't see why he should not go on. I'm quite interested inCaptain Carbury's stories about the army; it is so long since I have meta soldier. I assure you, Captain Carbury, in my young days I hardly evermet anyone else."

  "And a very great advantage for the army, madam," said Vernon, with thatpleasant twinkle in his eyes which would have made an Irish girl callhim "a broth of a boy" at once.

  I sat down; I found it difficult to talk. Aunt Penelope took no noticeof me; she kept up a ceaseless chatter with Vernon. He was in the bestof spirits; I never saw anything like the way he managed her. What couldhe have said to her during those very few minutes while I was changingmy dress and tidying my hair and getting that smut off my cheek?

  The tea came to an end at last, and then the dear old lady rose.

  "Heather," she said, "I am a little tired, and am going to lie down. Youcan entertain Captain Carbury. Captain, I have not the least idea whatthis dear child of mine has ordered for supper, but whatever it is Ihope you will share it with us. We should both like you to do so."

  "Thank you, I shall be delighted," he replied, and then Aunt Penelopewent out of the room. The moment she had gone Vernon looked at me and Ilooked at him.

  "Oh, you have done wrong," I said, "you know you have done wrong!"

  "Shall we have our little talk," he said, in his calmest voice, "beforeor after Buttons removes the tea-things?"

  "Oh, what do the tea-things matter?" I replied. "Let them stay. Vernon,you oughtn't to have come here."

  "Oughtn't I? But I very well think I ought. Why shouldn't a man come tosee the girl who has promised to marry him?"

  "Vernon, you know--you got my letter?"

  "I did certainly get a letter--an extraordinarily dear, sweet, patheticlittle letter. Well, my dear, I have acted on it, that's all."

  "Acted on it, Vernon! What do you mean?"

  He put his hand into his pocket and took the letter out.

  "Come and sit close to me on the sofa, Heather."

  "No, no; I can't; I daren't!"

  "But you can and dare. Do you suppose I am going to stand this sort ofthing? You are the girl
I am going to marry. Heather, what nonsense youare talking! Kiss me this minute!"

  "Vernon, you know I daren't kiss you."

  "And I know you dare and shall and will. Come, this minute--this veryminute."

  "Oh, Vernon! Oh, Vernon!"

  Before I could prevent him his arms were round me and his lips werepressed to mine. The moment I felt the touch of those lips I ceased tostruggle against his will and lay passive in his arms. My heart quieteddown, and a great peace, added to a wonderful joy, filled me.

  "Vernon, dear Vernon!"

  "Say 'darling Vernon'; that's better than dear."

  "Oh, well, if I must--darling Vernon!"

  "Say 'your very own Vernon,' whom you will marry."

  "Vernon, I can't. I will not tie you to me and to shame."

  "Of course you won't, you poor darling; but suppose--now I think this isabout the stage when the hero and heroine had best sit on the sofa, orthe heroine may perhaps faint."

  "Vernon, what are you talking about?"

  "We are quite comfortable now," he said.

  He drew me very close to him, and put his arm round my waist.

  "You little angel!" he said, "you darling! When I marry you I marry_honour_, not shame. Yes--honour, not shame. I marry the bravest girl onearth and the daughter of the bravest gentleman in His Majesty's army."

  "Vernon, what do you mean?"

  "I will tell you. Now you stay quite quiet and listen. Are you aware ofthe fact--perhaps you are not--that that dear Lady Helen, that preciousstepmother of yours, has a brother who was in the army?"

  "Has she?" I asked. "I didn't know."

  "Well, I happen to be aware of the fact. He was a good-for-nothing, ifanyone was in all the world. His name was Gideon Dalrymple. Surely yourfather has sometimes spoken to you about Colonel Dalrymple?"

  "Never," I said.

  "Well, it doesn't greatly matter; you're not likely to hear a great dealabout him in the future--he is the sort of person whose history peopleshut up; but before that time comes I--have some work to do inconnection with that same excellent officer in His Majesty's army."

  "Stop!" I said suddenly. I bent forward and looked into his eyes; my ownwere blazing with excitement, and my cheeks must have been full ofcolour.

  "Vernon, I recall a time, it comes back to me. I went unexpectedly intoa room where my father and stepmother were seated. I saw my darlingfather in a rage, one of the few rages I have seen him in since hismarriage. I heard him say to her: 'Your brother will not enter thishouse!' Can he be the same man?"

  "Beyond doubt he is. Well, now, I will tell you that when I first knewyou I also knew, as did most people who were acquainted with yourfather, something of his story. I knew that he had gone through a timeof terrible punishment; that he had been cashiered; that he was supposedto have committed a very heinous crime--in short, that he was the sortof person whom no upright soldier would speak to."

  "Yes," I said, trembling very much; "that is what one would think, thatis what I said in my letter. Only you understand, Vernon, that I am onhis side--he and I bear the same shame."

  "Little darling, not a bit of it. There's no shame for you to bear. Butlet me go on. You remember that day when I met you in Hyde Park?"

  "_The_ day?" I said.

  "_The_ day, Heather. You and I walked back to the house in HanburySquare together. You were sent out of the room. I had a long talk withyour stepmother and with your father--no matter now what was said. I wasbeside myself for a time, but I made up my mind then that whateverhappened I'd woo you and win you and get you and keep you! Somethingelse also haunted me, and that was the fact that your father, MajorGrayson, was not in the least like the sort of man I had expected him tobe. I have, Heather, I believe, the power of reading character, and ifever there was a man who had a perfectly beautiful, honourableexpression, if ever there was a man who could _not_ do the sort of thingwhich Major Grayson had been accused of doing, that man was your father.Before I left the house I was as certain of his innocence as I was of myown."

  "You darling!" I said. I stooped and kissed his hand.

  "Then I thought of you, and I said to myself: 'She's Major Grayson'sworthy daughter,' and--I gave myself up to thinking out this thing.People can go to the British Museum, Heather, and can read thenewspapers of any date, so I went there on the following morning andread up the whole of your father's trial. I read the evidence for andagainst him, and I discovered that there was a great deal of talk abouta Gideon Dalrymple--the Honourable Gideon Dalrymple, as he was called.He was mixed up in the thing. I went farther into particulars, anddiscovered that this man was the brother of Lady Helen. I sat andthought over that fact for a long time. I took it home to my rooms withme and thought it over there; I thought it over and over and over, but Icould not see daylight, only I was more and more certain that yourfather was innocent.

  "Then I got your letter, and that letter was just enough to stir me upand to make me wild, to put me into a sort of frenzy. So at last I saidto myself: 'There's nothing like bearding the lion in his den,' and oneday, quite early in the morning, I called at the house in HanburySquare. I asked to see Lady Helen Dalrymple, and as I stood at the doora boy came up with a telegram. The telegram was taken in, and I was alsoadmitted, for I gave the sort of message that would cause a woman of herdescription to see me. She was in her boudoir, and she came forward in afrenzy of distraction and grief, and said: 'What do you want? Go away! Iam in dreadful trouble; I won't see you--it's like your impertinence tocome here!'

  "'I won't keep you long,' I said. 'I want to get at once from youColonel Gideon Dalrymple's private address, for I have something of theutmost importance to talk over with him.'

  "'What?' she screamed. 'You can't see him--you can't possibly see him.He's very ill. I've just had a telegram from a nursing home where he isstaying. I am on my way to see him myself. My poor, poor brother!'

  "'Oh, then, if he is ill, of course he'll confess,' I said. 'I may aswell go with you. He has got to confess, sooner or later, and the soonerhe does it the better.'"

  "Vernon! You said _that_ to her?"

  "Yes, Heather; I said all that."

  "Oh, you had courage. But what did you mean?"

  "I knew quite well what I meant. I had gathered a few facts togetherfrom those papers, and I meant to put the screw on when I saw thevictim. Was not I working for home, and love, and wife? Was I likely tohesitate? Was I not working for a good man's honour? What else is asoldier worth if he can't make the best of such a job as I had setmyself?

  "Well, the long and short of it was this, Heather. That woman got asmeek as a mouse. I put the screw on her right away, and she was sofrightened she hardly knew what to do; so terrified was she that in lessthan ten minutes I could do anything with her, and in a quarter of anhour she and I were going in her motor-car to the home where theHonourable Gideon was lying at the point of death, owing to a freshattack of his old enemy, D.T. We both saw him together, and the moment Ilooked at his face I said to myself: 'You're the boy; you have got theugly sort of face that would be capable of doing that sort of low-down,mean thing.'

  "Afterwards I saw him alone; I put the screw on at once, but quitequietly. The doctor had said that he couldn't possibly recover, and Isaid that it would be much better for him to ease his conscience. So hedid ease it, with a vengeance. He was in such a mortal funk at thethought of dying that he told me the whole thing. It was he who forgedthe cheque and took the money, and he and Lady Helen between them gotyour father to bear the brunt of the blame--in short, to act as thescapegoat. You see, your father was half mad about Lady Helen then, andshe could do anything with him: he was badly in debt, too, and half offhis head with trouble. Your father spent ten years in penal servitude,and all for the sake of a woman who was not worth her salt. It wasarranged between them that he was to save her brother, and that shewould marry him and take his part, and give him of her enormous wealthwhen he came out of prison. It was a nicely-arranged plan, and why heever yielded to it is mor
e than I can make out; but guilty--he was neverguilty.

  "When that precious Gideon had told his story, I got in proper witnessesand had it all written down, and he put his signature to it, and I hadthat signature witnessed. After that I did not bother much about him; hedied in the night.

  "I went to Lady Helen next day, and told her what was to be expected. Isaid: 'Your husband's honour has to be cleared.' She was in an awfulfunk, but I did not care. I never saw anyone in such a state; I don'tknow what she did not promise me. She said I might marry you, andwelcome, and that she'd settle ten, or even twenty thousand pounds onyou. As if either of us would touch a farthing of her money! But in theend your father himself came to the rescue, and said that if you knew hewas innocent, and I knew he was innocent, he was accustomed to theopinion of the world, and he would be true to Lady Helen as long as helived. It was quixotic of him--much too quixotic; but there, that's howthings stand. Oh, of course, I forgot--your Aunt Penelope is to know,and we may be married as soon as ever we like--to-morrow by speciallicence, if we can't wait any longer, but anyhow as soon as possible.There, little Heather. Now, haven't I a right to kiss you? And whatnonsense you did talk in your sweet little letter, your precious letter,which I will keep, all the same, until my dying day!"

  Vernon put his arm round me, and I laid my head on his shoulder. Myfirst sensation was one of absolute peace. Oh! my light and happy heart!Oh! my father--my hero once again!