CHAPTER XXV
THE UNEXPECTED
On Monday the doctor took out the stitches and gave permission for Olwento sit up in a chair by the fire. Sunia having been sent away for anextra rug, he turned to his patient, and said abruptly:
"I was almost forgetting! Here is a letter for you. I went into thepost office to get your new tonic made up, and Branson said: 'Here's aletter for the young lady at the Pele, and as it's a foreign one, she'llbe glad to get it before to-morrow morning, if you're going up, sir.'"
"A foreign letter?" said Olwen wonderingly. "I wonder who is mycorrespondent abroad? I know of nobody."
"New York post-mark," said he, handing over the envelope. "Now I mustgo, for Mrs. Kay's baby is unwell, and I promised Ezra to drive onthere. Good-bye."
He had made no reference of any kind to their talk of Saturday.
Olwen held the letter hesitatingly, wondering whether she should openit. Suddenly came a determination not to allow Sunia to know she hadhad a letter. Repeatedly she had been conscious of a suspicion that allher correspondence was overhauled by the woman--and she was Ninian'sspy!
If she knew that Olwen had received a letter, she would probably searchfor it at the first opportunity. If, on the contrary, she was unawareof its arrival, she would not be anxious to learn its contents.
Although consumed with curiosity, the girl therefore hid away theforeign envelope, with the name of a hotel in New York printed on theoutside. A wonder was faintly stirring within her as to whether by anychance her correspondent could be Lily Martin? That young lady hadoriginally come from America, so Ninian had informed her. She mighthave returned thither. Were she and he still in touch with one another?Had he mentioned Olwen, and had she determined to send the new love achapter of the private history of the Guyses?
It was hard to wait in order to ascertain the truth of these excitingconjectures. Yet she forced herself to be patient until the hour atwhich the ayah went downstairs to wait at table, when she knew she wouldbe undisturbed. Then she drew forth the mysterious missive from theplace where she had concealed it, and prepared to satisfy her curiosity.
The first words upon the sheet of paper within brought the blood flowingto her face, and caused her to catch her breath with a low cry ofamazement:
"Little daughter of mine, have they allowed you to remember that youhave such a thing as a father? He doesn't feel worthy to be calledanything so holy, but he exists, and the craving for you, which he hasalways kept stowed away in a dark corner of his heart, has been latelygrowing so large that he finds he has room in his life for little else.
"My child, I am actually that which I used to declare myself in churchat the time when I didn't believe that I was anything of the kind--amiserable sinner. In my youth I must have been potentially so. Forvery many years I have been actually so. I have likewise suffered forit. Sometimes I have vague hopes that the suffering and the sin mayperhaps, when God adds up the column, balance one against the other.That is probably because of my ignorance and my egoism. God, Heknoweth.
"I have lived in such poverty and hardship that I have had to stifle thelonging I always felt for you. Now, however, things are a littlebetter. At the cost of health and a good many other things, I havescraped together enough money to bring me back to civilisation, and toprevent me from having to sponge upon the Wilsons.
"Has my daughter any memory of me, any love for me? Duty won't do. Iwant love for the few, very few remaining years--it may be only monthsthat we might spend together. Knowing what I know of your training,your upbringing, I feel it very doubtful that you can judge of meotherwise than your poor mother was able to do. And yet, in the dayswhen I had you with me--had you, and didn't know what it would be tofeel the miss of you--I used to believe that you loved me, as she, poorsoul, never did.
"When first I determined to write to you, it was my intention to waithere until I got an answer--until I knew whether there was strong enoughreason for me to make the effort of the voyage to England. But lastweek an attack of illness decided me that there is no time tolose--that, if I want to hold my child in my arms, it is now or never.
"The doctors say I shall be ready to start in a fortnight from now. Ihave booked my passage on the _Stupendous_, and am due at Liverpoolabout the tenth of March. If you can give me a welcome, come to thedocks. I shall look for you there, and if I do not see you, will driveto the Columbus Hotel. If you are not there, and have sent no message,I shall know that you repudiate the man who for so many years hasgrossly failed in his duty to you. Don't fear that I shall blame you.All the blame lies on my shoulders. I shall say, as once I said afterthe verdict in a Court House in the west of Canada, 'The sentence justpassed upon me by the court is just.' God bless you.--Your prodigalfather,
"MADOC INNES."
At the end of the letter appeared two spirited little sketches. Thefirst, entitled, "My child as I remember her," showed a little girl invery short skirts, with thin black legs and long masses of flying hair.The second, "My child as she probably is now," showed anultra-fashionable young lady, with hat of the newest tilt, carrying aparasol, yet with a something in her carriage and general aspect whichdid suggest Olwen.
These little pictures brought tears streaming from the girl's eyes. Itwas the first time she had sat up by the fire to eat her dinner, and shewas still weak. For some time she could not check her weeping, althoughits cause was chiefly delight.
All unexpectedly Fate had come to the aid of Dr. Balmayne. She wouldhave to leave the Pele now. Her father was to sail a fortnight afterthe date of his letter. Said letter had been through adventures. It hadbeen sent to Gratfield, her grandfather's old parish, thence toBramforth, thence to the Pele. He would set sail, as near as she couldcalculate, in three days' time. She could not reply to his letter, hewould be gone long before her answer could reach him. He was due toarrive at Liverpool in about ten days' time. She could just manage it.If she left without notice, she would have to forfeit her second month'ssalary. No matter. One month's salary would take her to Liverpool andenable her to stay there a night or two until the boat came in.
She surrendered herself to the joy which the thought of her fatherbrought. He had not forgotten her, he had not been heartless. She hadoften pictured him as settled in some new country, with a new wife, andother children on his knee. She had wronged him there. No one hadsupplanted her in his heart, ill-regulated though it might be. As soonas he had snatched out of the jaws of adversity enough to prevent hisbeing a burden to her family, he was coming home to claim her. Theywould be together. Delight surged up in her.
Someone to stand by her, to advise her, to fight her battles! Whatwould he think of Ninian Guyse?
It was curious that the whole affair seemed somehow different when shecontemplated it with her father in the background. How little, as afact, she knew of Ninian Guyse! Dr. Balmayne was a good adviser.
Ah! How splendid, yet how improbable it sounded, that in ten short daysshe would be in her own father's arms, his most serious object in life,recipient of his whole attention. Her future would be the one thing ofall things in the world which would interest him. How glad he would bethat she had not married Ben! She laughed out in her glee, and was solost to all sense of time and place that she very nearly allowed theayah to surprise her with the letter in her hand. A slight noise behindthe arras was the only thing which saved her.
Sunia was in silent mood that night. She put the girl to bed almostgrimly. Olwen longed to ask how the sahib had enjoyed himself with the"Kendall-folk," but refrained. Just as she was leaving her for thenight the ayah remarked, "Don't be frightened if Daff bark in the night.Sahib not come in yet."
"I'm not likely to be frightened," said Olwen sleepily; and she gave alittle laugh of childish exultation, at the thought of her news, herletter, her secret, which Sunia did not so much as suspect! ... Yet, asshe lay alone, after the woman had left her, s
he had a dull painsomewhere in her heart, for she believed that this day with the Kendallsshowed that the night in the mile-castle had brought illumination toNinian also. He had seen that he was following a will-o'-the-wisp--thatnothing could come of the friendship between them, so oddly begun. "Iwish to God I had never seen you!" ...
So he was going to erect barriers. He was going to take Rose Kendall,to prevent him from making a fool of himself with Miss Innes.
Olwen was honest, and she knew that, had he been engaged to Rose, shewould never have gone out for a day's skating with him. She had, then,hoped or expected something, in spite of all her denials.
What did it matter? She had her father now.
Next morning she sent a courteously worded note to Madam, asking herwhether she could possibly exert herself to climb the top flight ofstairs and pay her a visit, as the doctor would not let her go down, andshe had something to say.
She rose, with the ayah's help, and dressed by about twelve o'clock.Soon after she was established by the fire Madam knocked at the door andentered. Her expression gave the girl a shock. Olwen had supposed, shehardly knew why, that her adventure with Ninian would not be likely todisplease Madam very much. She had found her so _laissez-aller_, solanguid in her views, that she had not anticipated severe condemnation:more especially as on certain occasions it had seemed as if theirintimacy were being encouraged. Now she saw in a flash that she wasseriously out of favour. Madam wore the look which Olwen had seen nowand then on her face when Ninian had opposed her will, or she fearedthat he intended to do so. Her mouth was compressed, her eyes stony.
"I trust you are better," said she, standing just within the door.
Miss Innes sprang to her feet. "It is good of you to come," she beganconfusedly. "I have been wanting to see you. I don't know what youmust think of--of my imprudence. I'm sorry--oh, I am very sorry thatit--it happened."
Madam gloomed at her very stiffly. "That what happened?" shequestioned.
Olwen crimsoned. "My--accident," she said mumblingly, sinking back intoher chair. Madam's attitude had put everything in a new light. Shefelt like the veriest culprit. "Mr.--Mr. Guyse would have told you thatit was altogether unintentional----"
There was a bitter little smile. "Mr. Guyse has not been too explicit.I had perhaps better hear your account of it."
Olwen's eyes filled. She felt most unequal to a scene. "Won't--won'tyou sit down? I can see, of course, that you are much displeased withme. I--I realise now that I ought not to have gone out with Mr. Guyseas I did; but it was with your approval, Madam--indeed it was with yourapproval, as you must remember."
Madam sat down, as it were, reluctantly upon the edge of a chair. Shehad somewhat the aspect of a most unwilling visitor in someone else'shouse. "Really, Miss Innes, you have been two months in this family.Surely you cannot pretend to be ignorant of the fact that I and myapproval count for less than nothing with my son."
Olwen swallowed tears of extreme mortification. "Then you thought, allthe time, that I ought not to go, but never said so! Yet I am in yourcare, and I am not very old or very experienced. However, perhaps,there is no need to go over the thing in great detail. It shows that Iam not a suitable person for my position here, and I will relieve you ofmy presence as soon as the doctor gives me leave to travel. I think hesaid I might go on Thursday, and this is Tuesday. I--of course I canonly expect one month's pay, as I leave you without notice. I am sureit is what you would wish--that I should go at once. I amgrieved"--pride had upheld her so far, but here her humiliation brokedown her voice pitifully--"yes, indeed, I am grieved to have been sucha--such a failure. I meant to do so well!"
Madam twisted her mouth up on one side as she regarded the drying of thetearful eyes. "I don't think my son has found your society a failure,"she remarked, with meaning.
Olwen winced. Was this deserved? Had Madam all along blamed herconduct, thought her too free, been censuring beneath that apatheticmanner? Nothing whips and stings an innocent girl like the accusationof bold conduct. "You think I deserve that?" she whisperedpassionately.
"Do you deny that you have flirted with him?" asked Madam, as ifsurprised.
"Yes!" cried the girl, flaming at the injustice of the lady's attitude."I have not flirted, I declare that I have not!" ... She meant to saymore, but refrained. She would not accuse Ninian. Had he had thebaseness to represent to his mother that the advances had been hers?
"Come, come, there is no need for so much tragedy. What has happened ismost unfortunate--I conclude, at least, that you agree with me inthinking so? It was a deplorable adventure, and the fact of yourencounter with the doctor at Hazel Crag made it a great deal worse. But,fortunately, you have to deal with a young man who, perverse as he is,has nevertheless a great deal of good feeling. You need not be soapprehensive. I am authorised to let you know that my son is quiteready to marry you."
Olwen stared. Then she rose to her feet, choking. In her shame andterror she could hardly speak.
"You mean--you mean that I am compromised--that the only way out is forMr. Guyse to sacrifice himself--to marry me?" she managed to bring out.
Madam's eyes surveyed her with a fish-like gaze. "What did you expect?"she asked.
"Expect? Nothing! What should I expect? I am here as your companion,and if I have been out with Mr. Guyse, I say frankly that his companyhas been thrust upon me--that you have actually thrown us together! Ifyou have a spark of justice in you, you must admit this!"
"Well, but you bewilder me, Miss Innes. I was under the impression, asmy son certainly was, that you had an affection for him, and werewilling to marry him. Had I not supposed so, I should certainly nothave allowed you to go out for the day together. I understood that hemeant to ask you to be his wife in the course of that day. Did he not doso?"
"Certainly not. Nothing of the kind! He had no more idea of it than Ihad! I--I cannot think what you mean by talking like this! Your sonand I, owing to a quite unforeseen accident, had to remain out allnight. Nothing could be more scrupulous than the way he behaved--nothingcould be more complete than Dr. Balmayne's understanding of theposition! And even if he did not understand it--even if he did lookupon me as compromised, what does that matter to me? I am leaving thisplace on Thursday, and I hope I may never see or hear anything of any ofyou again!"
"Thank you, that shows very good feeling!" said Madam icily. "I wonderat you, indeed I do, Miss Innes. I had supposed that I came to reassureyou. I expected to find you in some mental anxiety, and was desirous tolet you know at the earliest moment that my son admitted hisresponsibility and had no desire to shirk it. This will be a blow tohim."
"Oh, I think he will get over it. I can disappear, as Miss Martin did,and you see this has only lasted such a short time, it will not make anydeep impression. As a matter of fact, I should have had to leave in anycase owing to family reasons. I heard from home yesterday, and find Iam wanted at once."
Again Madam smiled. "Like the young man at a dull house-party, you havereceived a telegram summoning you away," said she. "I happen to beaware that the post yesterday brought no letters for you."
"No, but Dr. Balmayne brought one. The chemist at the post office askedhim to take it with him when he came."
Madam changed colour violently. She could not, for a moment, controlwhat seemed like extreme annoyance. For quite an appreciable time shecould not speak, and Olwen sat contemplating the unexpected result ofher simple announcement, and saying over and over to herself, "I knewit! They have always overlooked my correspondence! What a mercy thedoctor happened to bring this one!"
Madam rose from her seat and went to the window. After a minute shefaced round, and said steadily:
"As long as you are here you are in my charge. Before allowing you toleave, I intend to write to your grandfather a full account of what hastaken place. I could not permit him to suppose me so careless of you asto let you go out all day long with my son if I had not believed thaty
ou were as good as engaged. Before receiving you back he shall be madeacquainted with all the facts."
Olwen half rose, but sank down again, and bit back the plea that rose toher lips. She felt as if she were in a trap, running round and round,seeking a way out. But there was a last appeal she meant to try. Shedid not believe that Ninian would allow her to be bullied or coerced.She could take her stand upon his sense of justice and honour.... Ah,but could she? ... Dr. Balmayne, who knew him far better than she did,thought otherwise. She trembled with a sense of her helplessness.
Madam saw that her last threat had hit the girl hard. She stoodinflexibly awaiting a reply.
Olwen threw up her chin, and spoke bravely. "I shall appeal to Mr.Guyse," she said. "I will insist upon his telling you himself that nolove-making has passed between us."
"Very good," replied Madam at once. "I, too, think that you should doas you suggest. I will not write to your grandfather until I know whatthe result of your interview will be. If you could exert yourself sofar as to come down to tea in the banqueting-hall, it would save poorayah some of the running up and down stairs which, during the past fewdays, has been almost too much for her."
This parting thrust brought the tears smarting to the girl's eyes.
Madam looked round the room with an appraising gaze, as she moved slowlytowards the door. "I don't think," said she, with a very faint smile,"that you could truly say that you have not been comfortable here."
"Oh--I--you--what am I to say?" burst forth Olwen vehemently. "I was sohappy, I was growing to love"--Madam turned swiftly--"to love the oldPele and the wild country, and my life here--and now you have spoilt itall! Nothing can ever be the same again." She grasped the arm of herchair, and leaned her brow upon her hands, almost disappearing beneaththe overweight of her tumbling hair.
"Oh, come, things are not so bad as you think," replied Madam, in adifferent tone. "If you marry Nin you would stay here always."
"Marry him because I have lost my reputation!" cried the girl wildly,lifting her tear-stained face. "You must be mad to think I am that kindof a girl!"
Madam shrugged her thin shoulders. "Well, I shall expect to see you attea time," she said, and went out.