CHAPTER XL.
THE VEILED PROPHET.
"We are ne'er like angels till our passions die."--THOMAS DEKKER.
"A heart to resolve, a head to contrive, and a hand to execute."
EDWARD GIBBON.
The evening before Waveney and Mollie returned to Cleveland Terracethere was a family gathering at the Red House. Everard Ward and his sonand Lord Ralston dined there.
Waveney had secretly hoped that Mr. Chaytor would have been invited; butAlthea, who was not aware of the girl's secret, had said, more thanonce, that no outsiders were to be admitted, and Waveney vainly tried tohide her depression. In spite of home-sickness and longings for thesociety of her twin sister, she had been very happy at the Red House.Her affection for Althea only had deepened with time, and the thoughtthat she was no longer to minister to her comfort filled her withprofound sadness.
Dereham and Erpingham had grown very dear to her, and the idea ofseparation from her kind friends made her heart heavy.
"You will often be with us," Althea said, trying to cheer her. "Do youthink Doreen and I mean to lose sight of you? No, my dear, no. 'Onceloved is always loved.' That is the Harford motto, and most certainlyyou are not losing your friends."
"No, but it will not be the same," returned Waveney, sadly. But the realcause of her depression was not the parting from her beloved Queen Bess.If she could only say good-bye to her other friend! If she could see himagain and have some look and word to treasure up in her memory! On thelast Porch House Thursday he had hardly spoken to her. It almost seemedas though he had avoided her, and certainly there had been no farewell.Most likely he would expect to see her on the following Thursday, andthen Althea would tell him that she was gone.
Waveney tried to console herself with the thought that she would see himat the wedding, for both he and his sister were to be among the guests.But when one is in love even five weeks' absence seems like an eternityin prospect. And Thorold's silent influence and unspoken affection wasalready dominating Waveney's entire nature.
It was a sultry July day, and Althea had proposed to Doreen that icesand dessert should be served in the verandah of the Porch House,overlooking the tennis lawn; and when dinner was over she led the way tothe garden. When they came in sight of the verandah, Lord Ralstonexpressed his approval with his usual frankness, but Everard looked atAlthea rather meaningly.
"It reminds me of Kitlands," he said, in a low voice. "Don't youremember you often had dessert on the terrace?" And Althea smiledassent.
"Dorrie and I are very fond of these _al fresco_ meals," she observed."I think in summer we should like to have them all in the open air."
And then, as they seated themselves in the comfortable hammock chairs,Doreen came across the grass with some letters in her hand. She hadintercepted the postman on his way to the house.
"They are mostly for me," she said, looking at the addresses. "One fromAunt Sara, and another from Laura Cameron, and Mrs. Bell's account.Yours will keep, Althea; it is only a business-looking document from Mr.Duncan. Correspondence with one's family lawyer is not particularlyinteresting," added Doreen, briskly.
"Is old Andrew Duncan still in existence?" asked Lord Ralston, casually,as he handed an ice to Mollie.
Everard looked up quickly.
"Andrew Duncan & Son, of Number Twenty-one, Lincoln's Inn? I did notknow he was your lawyer, Miss Harford."
But Noel suddenly broke in.
"Why, that is our Duncan, father!" he exclaimed, rather excitedly. "Theveiled Prophet is his client, you know. That reminds me," he went on,with a glance at his sisters, "I am going to beard the old lion in hisden, one of these days. The Veiled Prophet shall be unmasked, as sure asmy name is Noel Ward."
"Noel is speaking of the unknown benefactor who is so generouslyeducating him," explained Everard. "The silly children always speak ofhim as the Veiled Prophet----"
But here he stopped suddenly, as though he were shot. He had beenaddressing Althea, who was sitting near him; but at his first word, herpale face had become suddenly suffused with a painful flush, whichdeepened every moment. That scorching blush seemed burnt into her verysoul as she sat with downcast eyes, unable to say a word.
"Will any one have any strawberries?" asked Doreen, hastily. Althea'sconfusion filled her with compunction, and she was anxious to atone forher carelessness. She handed some to Everard as she spoke, but he wavedthem aside with some impatience.
"Good heavens! was it you, Althea?" he asked, in a tone of dismay.
Then Noel sprang from his chair.
"It is Miss Harford!" he said, loudly. "By Jove! this is a surprise!"and the boy's face grew suddenly red. "All these years we have beentalking of the Veiled Prophet, and it never entered into our heads thatit was a prophetess."
"My friend the humourist has evidently hit it," observed Moritz, airily;but he was looking keenly at Althea. "Other people can play comedies,"he said to himself; and then he twirled his moustache until it wasperfectly ferocious-looking, and fell into a reverie.
Poor Althea tried to speak, tried to rise from her chair, but two pairsof white arms kept her a prisoner. Waveney and Mollie were kneelingbeside her.
"Dear, dearest Miss Althea, was it really you?" asked Waveney, and thetears were running down her face, and Mollie was covering her hand withkisses. "How could we guess that you were Noel's unknown friend?"
"Hold your tongue, old Storm-and-Stress!" interrupted Noel, with boyishabruptness. "A fellow can't edge in a word with you women. It is for meto thank Miss Harford; it is for me----Oh, confound it all!" And hereNoel, to everybody's surprise, and his own too, suddenly bolted.
"Let me go to him!" pleaded Althea, gently.
She had not said one word, or lifted her eyes to Everard's face. As shepassed him, her dress almost brushing against him, he made no attempt todetain her. Doreen followed her; and then Moritz joined the agitatedlittle group.
"My cousin is a good woman," he said, with solemnity, as though he hadjust discovered the fact. "She has noble purposes, and has the courageto follow them out. I admire especially the _finesse_ and clevernesswith which she has elaborated and carried out her beneficent scheme. Itmight almost be compared, in its grandeur of conception, and itsmarvellous diplomacy, with another drama of human life, in which I haveplayed a part." And here Moritz looked at his young _fiancee_, and hishumour changed. "Come and take a turn with me, Mollie darling," hewhispered in the girl's ear; and then Waveney and her father were leftalone.
No one ever knew what passed between Althea and Noel in the Porch House;but, for the rest of the evening, Noel was unusually grave andthoughtful. But as Althea was about to return to the verandah, where thelad had already betaken himself, she came upon Everard. He was standingalone in the porch, and was evidently waiting for her.
It was now late, and the moon had risen, and Everard's face wasilluminated by the white light. At the sight of him, Althea's assumedcalmness vanished; but she tried to speak in the old friendly way.
"Were you looking for me, Mr. Ward?" she asked, hurriedly. "Are they allin the verandah still?"
"Yes," he returned, curtly; "but I have come to ask you a question.Althea, why have you done this; why have you heaped these coals of fireupon my head?"
Poor Althea! The avalanche had fallen, and she had nothing more to fear;never again, as she told herself, would she live through such a momentof humiliation and shame. The purity of her motives and the absence ofall self-seeking and consciousness, would make it easy to defendherself.
"Mr. Ward," she said, in her sweet, pathetic voice, "we are old friends,and to me the claims and responsibilities of friendship are very realand sacred. When your trouble came, when you lost your dear wife, Iheard from a mutual friend that you were struggling in deep waters, andthat, in spite of hard work, you found it difficult to make ends meet."
"That is true," returned Everard. "But----"
"Please let me tell you everything," she pleaded. "This mutua
l friendoften spoke to me of your twin girls, but one day he mentioned Noel. 'Heis a bright little lad,' he said, 'and very sharp and intelligent; butWard frets sadly about his education. He has no means of sending him toa good school, and he is very down about it, poor fellow!' Those werehis very words. I never forgot them. I know, from your own lips, what abright happy boyhood yours had been. You had told me so many stories ofyour Eton days, and it seemed to me so grievous that your son should berobbed of his rightful advantages."
"You forget that it was his father who was to blame for that," returnedEverard, with emotion. "My children must reap what their father sowed.When I married Dorothy, we made up our minds to renounce the good thingsof this life. Oh, I know the name of your informant, Althea; it wasCarstairs! He was a good fellow, and he was in love with my Dorothy; butwhen I carried her off, he never turned against me. I remember thatevening, and how low I was in my mind about the poor boy. But there! Iam interrupting you, and you have not finished."
"There is not much to say," replied Althea, gently. "Mr. Carstairs'account troubled me greatly. I wanted to help you, but I knew, andDoreen knew, too, that any offers of assistance would have beenindignantly refused. We Harfords are obstinate folk, Mr. Ward, and welove to get our own way, and then and there I concocted my littlescheme, and my good Mr. Duncan helped me to carry it out. But forDoreen's unlucky speech, the Veiled Prophetess would have remainedveiled." And then she tried to laugh; but the tears were in her eyes."Everard, dear old friend, you are not angry with me?" and she stretchedout her hand to him.
"Angry!" returned Everard, vehemently. "One might as soon quarrel withone's guardian angel, for Heaven knows you have been an angel ofgoodness to me and mine."
"No, I have only been your friend," returned Althea, a little sadly."But now it is your turn to be generous, and do me a little favour. Willyou let me finish my work? Noel is a dear boy, and I have grown to lovehim; he and I understand each other perfectly. It was always myintention to send him to Oxford. Mr. Ward, you will not refuse me thispleasure?"
But Everard shook his head.
"We will talk about that later on, when Noel has got his scholarship;"and something in his tone warned Althea to say no more. "She would bideher time," she said to herself; and then, after a few more gratefulwords from Everard, she made some excuse and returned to the house. Butfor some time Everard did not follow her. He lighted his cigarette, andpaced up and down the garden path.
Coals of fire, indeed! They were scorching him at this very moment. Longyears ago he had wronged this woman, and she knew it. He had inflictedon her the most deadly wound that a man can inflict. He had won herheart, and then in his fickleness he had left her; and now, in her sweetnobility, Althea had rendered him good for evil. Secretly andunsuspected, she had befriended him and his; but even now he littleguessed the extent of her benevolence, and that, in the home forworkers, many of his pictures had found a place. Althea had kept hersecret well.
"Good God!" he said, almost with a groan. "Why are men so weak and womenso faithful? I can never repay her goodness." And then he thought of hisdead wife. Dorothy had been the love of his youth; she was the mother ofhis children; he had never ceased to regret her loss, and he had alwaystold himself that no other could take her place. In his way he had beenfaithful, too, but he knew now, when it was too late, that he had builthis happiness on the wrecked hopes of another woman's heart.
The next day the girls returned to Cleveland Terrace. Althea had driventhem to the door, and then she left them. Everard was out, but as theystood in the old studio, hand in hand, Mollie's bright face clouded.
"I never thought it was quite so shabby," she said, rather dejectedly."How bare and comfortless it looks!" Probably Waveney had thought thesame, but she played the hypocrite gallantly.
"Nonsense, Mollie," she returned, energetically. "We are just spoiledand demoralized by all the comforts of the Red House. We will unpack ourboxes, and then we will put the room in order. Moritz has sent in acartload of flowers, and it will be such fun arranging them!" And thenMollie cheered up; but she had no idea, as Waveney chattered and bustledabout, that her head was as heavy as lead. It was Thursday, and thatevening Mr. Chaytor would look for her. But the place by Nora Greenwellwould be vacant.
After the first day, things were better. Lord Ralston paid them dailyvisits, and Althea and Doreen drove over constantly from the Red House.Everard was generally absent. He had not yet given up his drawingclasses. But the summer vacation would set him free. Waveney and Molliecontrived to amuse themselves; they sat in old Ranelagh Gardens withtheir work and books. Moritz often followed them there. Sometimes, whenMr. Ward had a leisure afternoon, he would organise some pleasure-trip.Once he drove them down to Richmond, and they had dinner at the "Starand Garter." And one sultry July day they went by train to Cookham, andspent the afternoon in the Quarry Woods. Indeed, Moritz was never happyunless he was contriving some new pleasure for his darling.
The wedding was fixed for the tenth of August, and on the third, Mollieand Waveney returned to the Red House. The _trousseau_ was complete, butthere were finishing touches that needed Mollie's presence.
When she tried on her wedding-dress, and Althea had flung over her headthe magnificent Brussels lace veil that was one of Lord Ralston'spresents, she and Doreen exchanged looks of admiration.
"She is almost too lovely," Althea said afterwards. "And then, she is sounconscious of her great beauty. 'I know I am pretty,' she once said tome. 'And I am so glad, for Moritz's sake.' I think I must tell Gwenthat."