Uncle Max was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs, and took me into the drawing-room at once.
To our surprise, we found Miss Hamilton there alone. The room was only dimly lighted, and she was sitting in a large carved chair beside the fire with an open book in her lap.
I wonder if Max noticed how like a picture she looked. She was dressed very simply in a soft creamy cashmere, and her fair hair was piled up on her head in regal fashion: the smooth plaits seemed to crown her; a little knot of red berries that had been carelessly fastened against her throat was the only colour about her; but she looked more like Clytie than ever, and again I told myself that I had never seen a sweeter face.
She greeted me with gentle warmth, but she hardly looked at Max; her white lids dropped over her eyes whenever he addressed her, and when she answered him she seemed to speak in a more measured voice than usual. Max too appeared extremely nervous; instead of sitting down, he stood upon the bear-skin rug and fidgeted with some tiny Chinese ornaments on the mantelpiece. Neither of them appeared at ease: was it possible that they were not friends?
"You are not often to be found in solitude, Miss Hamilton," observed Max; and it struck me his voice was a little peculiar. "I do not think I have ever seen you sitting alone in this room before."
"No," she answered quickly, and then she went on in rather a hesitating manner: "Etta and Lady Betty have been shopping in Brighton, and they came back by a late train, and now Etta is shut up with Giles in his study. Some letters that came by this morning"s post had to be answered."
"Miss Darrell is Hamilton"s secretary, is she not?"
"She writes a good many of his letters. Giles is rather idle about correspondence, and she helps him with his business and accounts. Etta is an extremely busy person."
"Miss Hamilton used to be busy too," returned Max quietly. "I always considered you an example to our ladies. I lost one of my best workers when I lost you."
A painful colour came into Miss Hamilton"s face.
"Oh no," she protested, rather feebly. "Etta is far cleverer than I at parish work. Teaching does not make her head ache."
"Yours used not to ache last summer," persisted Uncle Max, but she did not seem to hear him. She had turned to me, and there was almost an appealing look in her beautiful eyes, as though she were begging me to talk.
"Oh, do you know, Miss Garston," she said nervously, "that Giles was very nearly sending for you last night? He was with Mrs. Blagrove"s little girl until five this morning; the poor little creature died at half-past four, and he told us that he thought half a dozen times of sending for you."
"I wish he had done so. I should have been so glad to help."
"Yes, he knew that, but he said it would have been such a shame rousing you out of your warm bed; and he had not the heart to do it. So he stopped on himself; there was really nothing to be done, but the parents were in such a miserable state that he did not like to leave them. He was so tired this afternoon that he dropped asleep instead of writing his letters: that is why Etta has to do them."
"Who is talking about Etta?" observed Miss Darrell, coming in at that moment, with a quick rustle of her silk skirt, looking as well-dressed, self-possessed, and full of a.s.surance as ever. "Why are you good people sitting in the dark? Thornton would have lighted the candles if you had rung, Gladys; but I suppose you forgot, and were dreaming over the fire as usual. Miss Garston, I suppose I ought to apologise for being late, but we are such busy people here; every moment is of value; and though Gladys asked you to come early, I never thought you would be so good as to do so. Friendly people are scarce, are they not, Mr. Cunliffe? By the bye," holding up a taper finger loaded with sparkling rings, "I have a scolding in store for you. Why did you not examine my cla.s.s as usual last Sunday?--the children tell me you never came near them."
"I had so little time that I asked Tudor to take the cla.s.ses for me," he returned quickly, but he was looking at Miss Hamilton as he spoke. "I am always sure of the children in that cla.s.s: they have been so thoroughly well taught that there is very little need for me to interfere."
"It would encourage their teachers if you were to do so," returned Miss Darrell, smiling graciously. She evidently appropriated the praise to herself, but I am sure Uncle Max was not thinking of her when he spoke.
Just then Lady Betty came into the room, followed by Mr. Tudor.
Lady Betty looked almost pretty to-night. She wore a dark ruby velveteen that exactly suited her brown skin; her fluffy hair was tolerably smooth, and she had a bright colour. She came and sat down beside me at once.
"Oh, I am so vexed that we are so late! but it was all Etta"s fault: she would look in at every shop-window, and so of course we lost the proper train."
"What does the child say?" asked Miss Darrell good-humouredly. She seemed in excellent spirits this evening; but how silent Miss Hamilton had become since her entrance! "Of course poor Etta is blamed; she always is if anything goes wrong in the house; Etta is the family scapegoat. But who was it, I wonder, who wanted another turn on the pier? Not Etta, certainly."
"Just as though those few minutes would have mattered; and I did want another look at the sea," returned Lady Betty pettishly; "but no, you preferred those stupid shops. That is why I hate to go into Brighton with you." But Miss Darrell only laughed at this flimsy display of wrath.
Just then Mr. Tudor had taken the other vacant chair beside me. "How is the village nurse?" he asked, in his bright way. I certainly liked Mr.
Tudor, he had such a pleasant, friendly way with him, and on his part he seemed always glad to see me. If I had ever talked slang, I might have said that we chummed together famously. He was a year younger than myself, and I took advantage of this to give him advice in an elder-sisterly fashion.
"You must take care that the clergy do not spoil the village nurse,"
observed Miss Darrell, who had overheard him, and this time the taper finger was uplifted against Mr. Tudor.
"Oh, there is no fear of that," he returned manfully; "Miss Garston is too sensible to allow herself to be spoiled; but it is quite right that we all should make much of her."
"We will ask Giles if he agrees with this," replied Miss Darrell, in a funny voice, and at that moment Mr. Hamilton entered the room.
I do not know why I thought he looked nicer that evening: one thing, I had never seen him in evening dress, and it suited him better than his rough tweed; he was quieter and less abrupt in manner, more dignified and less peremptory, but he certainly looked very tired.
He accosted me rather gravely, I thought, though he said that he was glad to see me at Gladwyn. His first remark after this was to complain of the lateness of the dinner.
"Parker is not very punctual this evening, Etta," he observed, looking at his watch.
"I think it was our fault, Giles," returned his cousin plaintively. "We kept Thornton such a long time in the study, and no doubt that is the cause of the delay. Parker is seldom a minute behindhand; punctuality is her chief point, as Mrs. Edmonstone told me when I engaged her. You see,"
turning to Uncle Max, "we are such a regular household that the least deviation in our nature quite throws us into confusion. I am so sorry, Giles, I am, indeed; but will you ring for Thornton, and that will remind him of his duty?"
Miss Darrell"s submissive speech evidently disarmed Mr. Hamilton, and deprived him of his Englishman"s right to grumble to his womankind: so he said, quite amiably, that they would wait for Parker"s pleasure a little longer, and then relapsed into silence.
The next moment I saw him looking at me with rather an odd expression; it was as though he were regarding a stranger whom he had not seen before; I suppose the term "taking stock" would explain my meaning.
Just then dinner was announced, and he gave me his arm.
The dining-room was very large and lofty, and was furnished in dark oak.
A circular seat with velvet cushions ran round the deep bay-window. A small oval table stood before it. Dark ruby curtains closed in the bay.
My first speech to Mr. Hamilton was to regret that he had not sent for me the previous night.
"Oh no," he said pleasantly. "I am quite glad now that your rest was not disturbed." And then he went on looking at me with the same queer expression that his face had worn before.
"Do you know, Miss Garston, your remark quite startled me? Somehow I do not seem to recognise my nurse to-night. When I came into the drawing-room just now I thought there was a strange young lady sitting by Tudor."
Of course I was curious to know what he meant; but he positively refused to enlighten me, and went on speaking about his poor little patient.
"She was an only child; but nothing could have saved her. The Blagroves are well-to-do people,--Brighton shopkeepers,--so they hardly come under the category of your patients. Miss Garston, you call yourself a servant of the poor, do you not?"
"I should not refuse to help any one who really needed it," was my reply.
"But, of course, if people can afford to hire service I should think my labour thrown away on them."
"Ah! just so. But now and then we meet with a case where hirelings can give no comfort. With the Blagroves, for example, there was nothing to be done but just to watch the child"s feeble life ebb away. A miracle only could have saved her; but all the same it was impossible to go away and leave them. They were young people, and had never seen death before."
I was surprised to hear him speak with so much feeling. And I liked that expression "servant of the poor." It sounded to me as though he had at last grasped my meaning, and that I had nothing more to fear from his sarcasm.
I wondered what had wrought such a sudden change in him, for I had only worked such a few days. Certainly it would make things far easier if I could secure him as an ally; and I began to hope that we should go on more smoothly in the future.
Mr. Hamilton was evidently a man whom it would take long to know. His was by no means a character easy to read. One would be sure to be startled by new developments and curious contradictions. I had known him only for ten days; but then we had met constantly in that short time. I had seen him hard in manner and soft in speech, cool, critical, and disparaging, at one moment satirical and provoking, the next full of thoughtfulness and readiness to help. No wonder I found it difficult to comprehend him.
When we had finished discussing the Blagroves, Mr. Hamilton turned his attention to his other guests, and tried to promote the general conversation: this left me at liberty to make my own observations.
Miss Hamilton sat at the top of the table facing her brother, and Uncle Max and Mr. Tudor were beside her; but she did not speak to either of them unless they addressed her, and her replies seemed to be very brief.
If I had been less interested in her I might have accused her of want of animation, for it is hardly playing the _role_ of a hostess to look beautiful and be chary of words and smiles.
It was impossible to attribute her silence to absence of mind, for she followed with grave attention every word that was spoken; but for some inexplicable reason she had withdrawn into herself. Uncle Max left her to herself after a time, and began to talk politics with Mr. Hamilton, and Mr. Tudor was soon compelled to follow his example.