It was in this wise that Osmond returned to his duty and his senses.
Hilda and Wynifred had just left Edge Combe, and returned to Mansfield Road in preparation for the wedding-day of the latter, which was to be on the first of June, when, to their delighted astonishment, arrived a letter from Cologne, from Osmond, warm, loving, and penitent, announcing that he was travelling back to them as fast as train would carry him. It is needless to describe the joy with which the sisters and Sally prepared the little house for the wanderer"s reception, carefully hiding away out of the studio any picture or study which might bring unpleasant memories in its train.
When he experienced the delight of their welcome, and the sweet surrounding atmosphere of home, he was more ready than ever to marvel at the folly which had led him, in his dark hour, to fly from such a prodigal wealth of sympathy. It seemed, after all, as if trouble had strengthened him. His total failure to bear up like a man against disappointment had taught him a lesson. The ease with which he had lapsed into a "lower range of feeling" was also serviceable in showing him his inherent weakness. Only for the next few months his heart was overshadowed by a deep misgiving. He could not banish from his conscience the idea that he ought to have warned Percivale against Mrs.
Orton. His quitting the field, as he had done, washing his hands, like Pilate, free from the guilt of destroying a just man, seemed a despicable piece of pusillanimity. Every day he feared to hear ill tidings of some sort--to learn from the Wynch-Freres, or Henry Fowler, that some unpleasantness had arisen between Elsa and her husband.
But time went on. Wynifred"s wedding-day came and went, the Percivales were in town, Elsa"s name figured at all the best receptions. She and her husband were seen everywhere together, and though, certainly, there were those who said that he looked very ill, still, the world is always p.r.o.ne to calumny. They were leaving the old house by the river, and moving into an enormous mansion in one of the fashionable squares. The decorating and furnishing of this abode was the delight of the bride"s life. Society said that she grew every day more gay and entrancing, her husband more pale and silent. He was not used to the confined life of London--to being up all night in heated rooms, in noise, glare, and crowd. Physically, it told upon him. Lady Mabel Wynch-Frere saw it, and told Elsa, she must take her husband away as soon as possible,
"Yes, poor fellow, it is unfortunate we cannot manage to get away yet, is it not?" said Elsa, brightly. "But you know what upholsterers and decorators are unless one is personally there to superintend them? It is impossible to leave town until things are rather more finished. It is that hateful house in St. James" Place that makes Leon ill, I am sure of it. He will be a different creature when we move."
Certainly no results had as yet followed from Mrs. Orton"s enmity.
Osmond grew at last to believe that all her talk had been at random, that no mystery existed, that she had done nothing, and that he was a fool to have distressed himself over an angry woman"s idle threats.
Yet there were moments,--times of deep thought and solitude, when, on pondering over what he knew of Ottilie"s character, this explanation hardly satisfied him. There was a power for evil about this woman which was undeniable--a keenness, a mental activity which were at times formidable. Was it possible that she had obtained the knowledge she sought for, and as yet held it in her bosom like a concealed weapon, waiting a favorable opportunity to strike?
CHAPTER LII.
d.u.c.h.eSS. What have they said?
BERTUCCIO. Ask never that of man.
d.u.c.h.eSS. What have they said of me?
BERTUCCIO. I cannot say.
d.u.c.h.eSS. Thou wilt not, being my enemy. Why, for shame, You should not, sir, keep silence.
BERTUCCIO. Yet I will.
d.u.c.h.eSS. I never dreamt so dark a dream as this,
BERTUCCIO. G.o.d send it no worse waking!
_Marino Faliero._
A pleasant autumn afternoon shed its mellow light over Edge Combe. The fields were golden with harvest, and the air was warm with sunshine. In the porch at Lower House, Wynifred Cranmer stood leaning against the arched doorway, her needle-work in her hands. Near her, in a capacious wicker chair, her husband was enjoying his afternoon "weed."
Very contented and serene did Claud look, in his countrified suit of rough cloth, his leggings and thick boots. The costume suited him admirably, and the healthy out-of-door life had already given a glow of red-brown to his fair complexion. His gun lay near at hand, ready for him to clean, when so disposed; but at present life seemed to offer no more perfect enjoyment than to sit still, smoke, and look at his wife"s delicate head in a setting of sunny sky and purple clematis blossom.
"Penny for your thoughts, Wyn," he remarked, after a more lengthy pause than usual; for they were, on the whole, rather a talkative pair.
"I was thinking about saucepans," said Wyn, peacefully, as she drew her needleful of silk out of the cloth and stuck in her needle with a click of her thimble.
"Saucepans, my dear girl?"
"Yes, saucepans. Where is my penny?"
"Do you think pots and pans are worth such a sum?"
"I wish they were not. It would be pleasant if we could stock our house with them at the price. No; it was Miss Willoughby"s lovely preserving-pan that filled my thoughts. We must drive into Philmouth and get one to-morrow. You are so terribly addicted to jam that I expect I shall pa.s.s my whole career in boiling and skimming fruit!"
"Yes, let us have plenty of jam," returned Claud, with interest. "Dear me, how entertaining all the little details of life are, to be sure. I don"t know when I have been more excited than when I had successfully contrived those bookshelves; and the sinking of the well in our garden kept me awake two whole nights."
"You silly boy! New brooms sweep clean," said his wife, laughing. "You will get tired of it all one day. No! I don"t believe you will! We shall always be planning some improvement, we two. Housekeeping is a great pleasure."
"To think we shall be under our own roof in a month"s time, my child,"
cried Claud, gleefully. "It sounds ungrateful to dear old Fowler, who is such a first-rate fellow; but it will be nice to be all to ourselves, won"t it?"
"Won"t it!" said Wyn, rapturously, letting fall her work, while she gazed at her husband with devotion.
"Mrs. Cranmer, come here and sit on my knee. I want to say something."
"Can"t you say it as we are?"
"It"s private and confidential."
"You must put down your pipe then. I can"t talk to you if you puff smoke in my face."
He obediently laid aside the pipe and held out his arms invitingly.
Wyn decorously took a seat, still armed with her work.
"A gardener is sure to come by in a moment," she remarked, primly.
"The entire staff of domestics may march past in procession, for aught I care. Don"t be silly," said her husband, pinching her ear.
"Well, now, what did you want to say?" asked she.
"Why, that something has upset dear old Henry. I expect it is to do with Elsa. I know he is very anxious about her. I was down at the quarries this morning, and he rode up to give me the message I gave you--that he would not be in to dinner. I thought he seemed not quite himself, and I asked him what it was. He said he would tell me later. He looked most horribly put out."
"Oh, it can"t be Elsa. Why, they are coming here in the yacht to-morrow, to spend a week at Edge Willoughby. Something connected with business, it must be."
"I don"t think so, from his manner; but we shall see. Imagine those other two honey-moonists turning up to-morrow. I wonder if they enjoyed themselves as much as you and I did?"
"They couldn"t!" cried Wyn, letting her work slip from her knee, while she took her husband"s face between her hands and caressed it. "No wedding-journey was ever like ours, or ever will be, will it?"
"I don"t quite see how it _could_," he returned, with an air of candid reflection. "Ours was jolly. We"ll have another next year, and go further afield, if we can save up enough out of our income."
"My dear silly, we shall save _heaps_! We are _rich_, I keep on telling you, but you won"t believe it. Do you remember my last month"s accounts?"
"They were absurd; but we have not tried housekeeping yet."
"And, as we are going to keep such a great deal of dinner company, our expenses will be heavy indeed."
"My dear girl, reflect! Think of the cost of your preserving-pan!"