CHAPTER XII
A CONFIDENCE: AND SOME SPYING
Madam lay nearly flat on her back under the canopy of her great fourpostbed. Her sunken eyes followed Miss Innes curiously as she measured adose of medicine into a glass.
Approaching the bed the girl stopped, slipped an arm under the thinshoulder-blades and, lifting her patient, administered the draught.
"That's to lower your temperature," said she encouragingly. "You willfeel much better when you are less feverish."
As she rearranged the bed and rinsed the glass, she gave news of thebeloved fowls. Kitty, one of the buff Orpingtons, regardless of thetime of year, had insisted upon "going broody," and Mrs. Baxter, havingtried various cures in vain, had at last given her a "clutch" of eggs.Madam speculated sadly upon the problem of keeping the chickens alivewhen hatched.
Olwen hopefully suggested that the weather might be very different insix weeks' time.
"It won't. Not for months and months. You don't know this place. Thisaccursed place," added Madam faintly under her breath.
"Oh, don't call it that! I find it extraordinarily fascinating.Nothing else like it anywhere, is there?"
"Let's hope not. Ah, it's all very fine for you to laugh. If you hadbeen through all I have undergone----" She broke off, muttering toherself. Olwen could see that she was under the influence of fever, andspoke soothingly.
"I'm sorry. I hardly know why I laughed. Laughter comes easily to me,I think."
"You're lucky. I never had a merry nature; and, if I could have seeninto my future----"
She moved restlessly, while Olwen sat down near with her knitting.
Silence fell. How intense silence could be in that place! The thickwalls shut off each room in a solitude of its own. No sounds of dailylife arose to the listening ear; one might be isolated from everyoneelse in the world. As Olwen meditated on this the hush was broken bythe voice of Madam, who began to speak in a low, monotonous narrative.
"I was born in a palace--a mansion on Streatham Hill, standing in agreat park. My father rose from small beginnings to be one of therichest men in England. He was very ambitious for me, his only child.In the course of business he had come across Lord Caryngston, and hadbeen able to oblige his lordship pretty substantially. It was arranged,in return, that her ladyship should present me at Court and invite me toher house to meet her friends. That was how I came to know NinianGuyse. My father did not like the match, but he wanted me to be happy,and I was spoiled and wilful. I was head over ears in love. What afool! Ah, what a fool! Ninian Guyse was as deep in debt as I in love,and only wanted my fortune."
"Oh, don't say that!" cried the girl.
The wistful eyes were turned upon her face. "It's true," she saiddefiantly. "Why should I not say it? Oh, I suppose you mean I ought notto say it to you! But that will be all right, as long as you don't tellNinian." The drawn face assumed a look of deep cunning. "Not a word tomy son, or to ayah. Understand? Why not our little secrets, you andme? ... Where was I? Oh, yes, we were married, you know, and as long asmy father lived he exercised some kind of control, but, to my deepmisfortune, he died, and then there was nothing to hold my husband. Hewent from bad to worse. I would not live with him at last. The twinsand I usually lived in London and he at Danley, our Yorkshire place. Hewas an excellent jockey, and he sometimes rode his own horses. That washow he caught his death ... riding a race he felt certain of winning.He meant, if he pulled that off, to turn over a new leaf, or so he said.He just failed, and standing about afterwards he took a chill."
"And died?"
"Yes. It turned to pneumonia, and he made no sort of fight.Disappointment had beaten him down. I think he was sorry just at theend; but it was too late then, he had taken everything from me--my love,my fortune--and flung it all away. Until he was dead I had no idea howcompletely he had ruined us. It was the twins' last term at Rugby; theywere going to Oxford that autumn. When he found out how things were,Ninian said we must sell all our other houses, and the yacht and theracing stables, and come and live here. I wanted to sell this horribleplace too, but Ninian would not hear of it. So terribly masterful--justlike his father. He always was a farmer at heart; he loves the land.Wilfrid is so different----"
At the mention of the name of this beloved son the whole tone of Madam'svoice changed. Colour stole into her cheeks, a thrill into her voice."Do you see that photo on the dressing-table, in the silver frame!Bring it to me."
Olwen brought the picture to the bedside. Unless it was flattered,Wilfrid Guyse was indeed a handsome man. There was a likeness--even astrong likeness--to his twin, especially in general outline; but hishair was evidently fair and his expression wholly different. There wasno bravado, no sign of a sneer, in these clear, well-opened eyes. Thecarriage of the head was fine, with the unconscious confidence of race.
"Do you like it?" The acme of maternal pride surged beneath the quietquestion.
Olwen started. The portrait had fascinated her. "Like it? Oh, yes.There is a great likeness to his brother, is there not?"
Mrs. Guyse laughed in pure scorn. "Wait until you see them together,"said she. "Nobody would look at poor Nin while Wolf was present.Though I say it, he is all the fondest mother could desire."
"Does he come home much?" asked Olwen, with a good deal of curiosity asto the answer.
"Not so much as I could wish. He is secretary to Mr. Borrowleigh, whois in the Cabinet, you know. London is far from Guysewyke, and theywork him terribly hard, poor boy. He tried nobly to retrieve the familyfortunes when he left Oxford--went to Klondyke, starved and toiled--youwould never think it to look at him, would you? My poor darling! Itwas too much for him. He broke down and had to come home and begin allover again. However, his health is now quite restored."
"This photo was taken recently?"
"He had it done for my Christmas present."
Olwen slowly replaced the frame upon the table. When she turned roundMrs. Guyse had raised herself erect, and her face was darkly flushed.There was a disturbed look in her eyes. "I've been talking--talking,"she muttered. "Ninian said I should be sure to talk."
"Well, why not?" asked Olwen gently. "I am your secretary, and youraffairs are private to me. I am in the same position as a doctor, youknow. What you say to me is a professional secret. But I think youhave talked enough, and should lie down now."
The sick woman grasped her arm with hot fingers. "Have I said anythingto set you against Ninian or--or the place?" she asked uneasily.
Olwen was obliged to laugh. "Of course not; though it could not mattereven if you had."
"You said, didn't you--you told me you found the Pele fascinating?"
"It has a fascination, certainly."
"So have you," returned Madam most unexpectedly. Her eyes were fixedupon the girl's mirthful face and the pretty curve of her smiling mouth."I consider you decidedly fascinating. I can't think where Ninian'seyes are."
"Tastes differ, you know," was the amused reply. "As you approve, thatis all that matters, isn't it? Perhaps Mr. Guyse will forgive me forbeing unattractive when he finds I am useful."
Mrs. Guyse lay silent for a while, during which time she was presumablythinking over her indiscretions. At last--
"Wolf won't be coming here for a long time," said she in a decidedvoice; "so don't build upon seeing him, will you?"
"It's very disappointing, but I'll try to bear it," replied the girldemurely, dissembling her mirth.
After another pause--"I fear I was unwise to show you his picture. Areyou susceptible, do you think?"
"I believe not. You see, when one has to earn one's living, one has notime to be fanciful."
"I dare say"--with evident relief. "It was very different with me. Ihad been so spoilt, my father doted on me. I had everything I wanted; Ihad but to express a wish and it was gratified. That was what made thecontrast, after marriage, so dreadful to me. I had bee
n so flatteredthat I thought myself very attractive; and I was not. My husband toldme so in plain words. He said I expected too much. You are notaccustomed to flattery, are you? You would not expect too much?"
Olwen began to be alarmed at her high colour and rambling talk. "I wantyou to lie down and rest and not talk," said she coaxingly. "I think Iwill go and ask Sunia to bring your tea."
"Wait!" A thin hand was held up and beckoned. Olwen approached the bed."Bend down. I want to whisper."
Olwen stooped, a queer access of pity in her heart.
"I have been imprudent. If you repeat what I have said you will get meinto trouble; but, all the same, I am going to warn you. Ayah is hisspy--Ninian's spy. Be careful, won't you?"
The colour flamed into the girl's face. This was her second warningthat day not to trust Sunia. "I'll remember, and please to understandthat I _don't talk_," said she, as impressively as she could.
She felt uncomfortable as she took up the Barton catalogue and carriedit downstairs to point out to Mr. Guyse the lounge chair which shethought would be suitable.
He was standing upon the hearthrug as she entered the lamp-lit room;and, to her surprise, he met her with a scowl.
What does this portend? she asked herself, as she went to the tray andsat down to pour out his tea. The kettle sang on the hob, there was afragrance of hot tea-cake, and the table looked tempting with itscrystal glasses of preserve and old Jacobean silver. Ignoring hissilence, she began to talk. "I have brought the catalogue to show you.How long will it be before we can get what we order, do you know? I amwondering how you manage to collect things sent by rail."
He was sitting, at the side of the table, at right angles to her, and ashe leaned forward his sulky face was close to hers.
"I wonder," he said, "if, on the occasion when I came to fetch you fromCaryngston, I succeeded in impressing upon you the fact that I amanxious for you to have no dealings with Balmayne?"
Resenting his tone in every fibre of her, Olwen opened her mouth to say,"What concern is it of yours?" but, remembering in time her position inthe household, she replied merely, "You impressed upon me the idea thatyou and he are not on good terms."
"So you thought you would have a nice, confidential talk with him, aboutme--eh?"
"Oh! What makes you think so?" she asked calmly.
He was ready for this question. "Mrs. Baxter told me what time thedoctor arrived. I know what time he went. Sunia told me how long he wasin the sick-room."
"Was that all that Sunia told you?" she asked innocently.
He reddened. Olwen summoned all her courage and, leaning back in herchair, she looked steadily into his eyes, which gleamed in a way whichmade her think absurdly of a panther lashing his tail.
"We had better have this out," she said quietly. "If, as I suppose,Sunia was listening, and if she has repeated to you all that passedbetween the doctor and me, you must know that nothing was said of whichyou could reasonably complain. Please understand that I did not comehere to take my orders from you, and that I will not be bullied by you.If your mother has anything to complain of in my conduct she will tellme so. I know my place. I wish that you knew yours."
He sat upright, as if she had stung him, and gazed upon her as if hehardly knew how to take this.
"If you were not here," she went on, "Madam and I could get on verycomfortably together; but ever since you saw me you have been trying tomake things intolerable for me. After the way you have just spoken Ishall, of course, leave at my month. But as long as I am here, perhapsyou will let me alone."
He made a contemptuous sound. "That's just like a woman--flare up at alittle thing like that! You give notice to leave just because I got abit shirty over you and Balmayne----"
"Why, you made up your mind from the first that I shouldn't stay, didn'tyou? When you found that I am not pretty and that I won't flirt withyou----"
"By Jove! how can you say that? Why, I tried with all my might to befriends, but you wouldn't touch me with the end of a barge pole."
"You knew quite well that you were behaving in a way no girl couldstand."
He folded his arms, gazing down at the tablecloth. "I don't know anygirls. At least, none like you."
Something in his tone made her feel a little sorry for him, but shehastened to improve the occasion a little farther.
"Why can't you understand that I only want to be let alone? What do youmatter to me? From the way you talk, I suppose that Dr. Balmayne knowssomething to your discredit, and that you are afraid he might tell me.Well, what if he did? It is of no business of mine. It doesn'tinterest me. As for Madam--when I first came, I thought she disliked meas much as you do, but the last day or two she has seemedglad--pleased--to have me with her. She has begun to--to welcome me, toturn toward me, as if she--l-l-loved me. And now I must leave her, allbecause you--you----"
She could not finish. She was swallowing sobs, and, to her own vastmortification, was obliged to rise from the table and turn away to thefire so as to hide her quivering face.
She heard him push back his chair and rise too. He took a turn to theend of the room and back. Then he came near to where she stood.
"I'm a perfect brute," he said gruffly. "I say--can't we start all overagain? Do let us. I can't think why things have gone so badly. Yougot up against me somehow. I thought you were so different. I can'texplain. If I say that I'm fairly ashamed of myself, and beg your pardonwith all my heart, won't you give me another chance?"
"I don't know what you mean," said she, furtively wiping away her tears."Another chance? I never gave you a chance at all. You don't count.Why should you?"
"That's just what I mean. I want to count. Give me a chance."
She made no reply.
"I never had a sister, or perhaps I shouldn't be such a blundering foolwith girls," adventured Nin. "Look here, can't you be great enough tohand me out a free pardon? I never guessed how much I was going to hurtyour feelings just now, and if Madam is to lose you just because of mythundering folly---- Ah, well, you guessed quite right; Balmayne doesthink he knows something to my discredit, and I was anxious you shouldnot hear it from him. I wanted to keep it dark altogether. But Isuppose I'd better tell you about it myself."
"But I don't want to know. Will nothing make you see that it doesn'tmatter a bit to me----"
"You'd have listened to Balmayne----"
"He declined to say anything when he found I didn't know----"
"Ah, then he did mention it?"
"If we are talking of the same thing."
"Lily Martin, of course; the girl who was my mother's companion."
"Oh, yes, I remember. He said that your mother had rather a shatteringexperience."
"I suppose she had. Yes, it was a shock," he replied slowly. "Lookhere, dry your eyes and sit down to tea, and I'll tell you afterwards,if you'll promise not to go away at the end of your month. This placeis quite jolly in fine weather."
She sat down to table and poured fresh tea. "I have no doubt it is,"said she. "You will enjoy showing it to my successor. You shouldexplain to her, however, when offering her the post, that she is to beyour companion, and not Madam's."
"Now you're not playing fair. No good to say you forgive me and thenstab me in the back."
"I don't think I have forgiven you. At least, I haven't said so."
He looked at her with puzzled eyes. "You try living here ten years,with never a soul to speak to, and see if you don't make an ass ofyourself the first time you get the chance," he remarked presently.
She did not answer, but took up the catalogue and made a little talkabout the folding chairs depicted in the illustrations.
He gave but a divided attention and ate hardly anything. At last hepushed back his chair with determination. "Now will you please listen?"
She rose with decision. "Once for all, Mr. Guyse, I will _not_ listen.I have already told you that I don't want to hear anything at all aboutit." As she sp
oke she was moving as if to go out of the room. He rose,with panther-like swiftness, and stood between her and the door. "You'vegot to listen," he said.