"You need not fear," was my answer: "if Miss Hamilton requires my friendship, I am very willing to bestow it. I will be as good to her as I know how to be, Max. Is it likely I should refuse the first favour you have ever asked me?" And, as he thanked me rather gravely, I felt that he was very much in earnest about this. He went away after this, but I think I had succeeded in cheering him, for he looked more like himself as he bade me good-night; but after he had gone I sat for a long time, reflecting over our talk.
I felt perplexed and a little saddened by what had pa.s.sed. Max had not denied that he was unhappy, but he had refused to confide in me. Was his unhappiness connected in any way with Miss Hamilton? This question baffled me; it was impossible for me to answer it.
I could not understand his manner to her. He was perfectly kind and gentle to her, as he was to all women, but he was also reserved and distant; in spite of their long acquaintance, for he had visited at Gladwyn for years, there was no familiarity between them. Miss Hamilton, on her part, seemed to avoid him, and yet I was sure she both respected and liked him. There was some strange barrier between them that hindered all free communication. Max was certainly not like himself when Miss Hamilton was present; and on her side she seemed to freeze and become unapproachable the moment he appeared. But this was not the only thing that perplexed me. The whole atmosphere of Gladwyn was oppressive. I had a subtile feeling of discomfort whenever Miss Darrell was in the room; her voice seemed to have a curious magnetic effect on one; its tuneless vibrations seemed to irritate me; if she spoke loudly, her voice was rather shrill and unpleasant. She knew this, and carefully modulated it.
I used to wonder over its smoothness and fluency.
And there was another thing that struck me. Mr. Hamilton seemed fond of his step-sisters, but he treated them with reserve; the frank jokes that pa.s.s between brothers and sisters, the pleasant raillery, the blunt speeches, the interchange of confidential looks, were missing in the family circle at Gladwyn. Mr. Hamilton behaved with old-fashioned courtesy to his sisters; he was watchful over their comfort, but he was certainly a little stiff and constrained in his manner to them: he seemed to unbend more freely to his cousin than to them; he had scolded her good-humouredly once or twice, after quite a brotherly fashion, and she had taken his rebukes in a way that showed they understood each other.
I grew tired at last of trying to adjust my ideas on the subject of the Hamilton family. I was rather provoked to find how they had begun to absorb my interest. "Never mind, I have promised Uncle Max to be good to her," was my last waking thought that night, "and I am determined to keep my word." And I fell asleep, and dreamt that I was trying to save Miss Hamilton from drowning, and that all the time Miss Darrell was standing on the sh.o.r.e, laughing and pelting us with stones, and when a larger one than usual struck me, I awoke.
I wondered if it were accident or design that brought Miss Darrell across my path the next day. I had just left the Lockes" cottage, feeling somewhat tired and depressed: Phoebe had been in one of her contrary moods, and had given me a good deal of trouble, but the evil spirit had been quieted at last, and I had taken my leave after reprimanding her severely for her rudeness. I was just closing the garden gate, when Miss Darrell came up to me in the dusk, holding out her hand with her tingling little laugh.
"How odd that we should have met just here! I hardly knew you, Miss Garston, in that long cloak, you looked so like a Sister of Charity.
I think you are very wise to adopt a uniform."
"Thank you, but I have hardly adopted one," I returned, folding the fur edges of my cloak closer to me, for it was a bitterly cold evening. "Are you going home, Miss Darrell? because you have pa.s.sed the turning that leads to Gladwyn."
"Oh, I do not mind a longer round," was the careless answer. "I am very hardy, and a walk never hurts me. If it were Gladys, now--by the bye, have you seen my cousin Giles to-day?"
"No," I returned, wondering a little at her question.
"You are lucky to have escaped him," with another laugh. "Dear, dear, how angry Giles was last night, to be sure, when we came home and found Gladys out! he was far too angry to say much to her; he only asked her if she had taken leave of her senses, and that some people--I do not know whom he meant--ought to be ashamed of themselves."
"Indeed!" somewhat sarcastically, for I confess this speech made me feel rather cross. I wondered if Mr. Hamilton could really have said it. I determined that I would ask him on the first opportunity.
"It was a very injudicious proceeding," went on Miss Darrell smoothly.
"Gladys was to blame, of course; but still, if you remember, I told you how delicate she was, and how we dreaded night air for her: young people are so careless of their health, but of course, as Giles said, we thought she would be safe with you. You see, Giles looks upon you in the character of nurse, Miss Garston, and forgets you are young too. "Depend upon it, they have forgotten the time," I said to him: "when two girls are chattering their secrets to each other, they are not likely to remember anything so sublunary." You should have seen Giles"s expression of lordly disgust when I said that."
"I should rather have heard Mr. Hamilton"s answer."
"Don"t be too sure of that," returned Miss Darrell, in a mocking voice that somehow recalled my dream. "I am afraid it would not please you.
Giles is no flatterer. He said he thought you would have been far too sensible for that sort of nonsense, but that one never knew, and that it was not only young and pretty girls like Gladys who could be romantic, and for all your staid looks you were not Methuselah: rather a dubious speech, Miss Garston."
"True!" far too dubious to be entirely palatable to my feminine pride; but I was careful not to hint this to Miss Darrell, and she went on in the same light jesting way.
"It is terribly hard to satisfy Giles, he is so critical; he sets impossible standards for people, and then sneers if they do not reach them. He had conceived rather a high opinion of you, Miss Garston. He told me one day that he would be glad for you to be intimate with his sisters, as they would only learn good from you, and that he hoped that I would encourage your visits. I trust that he has not changed his opinion since then; but Giles is so odd when people disappoint him. I said last night that we would invite you for to-morrow, and then you and Gladys could finish your talk; but he was as cross as possible, and begged that I would invite no one for Thursday, as he was very busy, and Gladys must find another opportunity for her talk. There, how I am chattering on!--and perhaps I ought not to have said all that; but I thought you would wonder at our want of neighbourliness, and of course we cannot expect you to understand Giles"s odd temper: it is a great pity he has got this idea in his head."
"What idea, Miss Darrell?"
"Dear, dear, how sharp you are! how you take me up! Of course it is only Giles"s ill temper: he cannot really think you wanting in ballast."
"Oh, I understand now. Please go on."
"But I have no more to say," rather bewildered by my abruptness. "Of course we shall see you soon, when all this has blown over. If you like, I will tell Giles I have seen you."
"Please tell Mr. Hamilton nothing. I will speak to him myself.
Good-night, Miss Darrell; I am rather cold and tired after my day"s work.
I do not in the least expect that Miss Hamilton has taken any harm." And I made my escape. I do not know what Miss Darrell thought of me, but she walked on rather thoughtfully; as for me, I felt tingling all over with irritation. If Mr. Hamilton had dared to imply these things of me, I should hardly be able to keep my promise to Uncle Max, for I would certainly decline to visit at Gladwyn.
CHAPTER XVIII
MISS HAMILTON"S LITTLE SCHOLAR
Miss Darrell"s innuendoes were not to be borne with any degree of patience. Mr. Hamilton"s opinion might be nothing to me,--how often I repeated that!--but all the same I owed it to my dignity to seek an explanation with him.
The opportunity came the very next day.
He called to speak to me about a new patient, a little cripple boy who had broken his arm; the father was a labourer, and there were ten children, and the mother took in washing. "Poor Robin has not much chance of good nursing," he went on; "Mrs. Bell is not a bad mother, as mothers go, but she is overworked and overburdened; she has a good bit of difficulty in keeping her husband out of the alehouse. Good heavens! what lives these women lead! it is to be hoped that it will be made up to them in another world: no washing-tubs and ale-houses there, no bruised bodies and souls, eh, Miss Garston?"
Mr. Hamilton was talking in his usual fashion; he had taken the arm-chair I had offered him, and seemed in no hurry to leave it, although his dinner-hour was approaching. When he had given me full directions about Robin, and I had promised to go to him directly after my breakfast the next morning, I said to him in quite a careless manner that I hoped Miss Hamilton was well and had sustained no ill effects from her visit to me.
"Oh no: she is better than usual. I think you roused her and did her good. Gladys mopes too much at home. All the same," in a tolerant tone, "you ought not to have kept her so late; as Etta very wisely remarked, it was no good for her to stay in on Sundays and remain out a couple of hours later another night; you see, Gladys takes cold so easily."
"I hear you were very much inclined to blame the village nurse, Mr.
Hamilton."
"Who?--I?" looking at me in a little surprise. "I do not remember that I said anything very dreadful. Etta was in a fuss, as usual; you managing women like to make a fuss sometimes: she sent off Leah, and wanted me to lecture Gladys for her imprudence; but I was not inclined to be bothered, and said it was Gladys"s affair if she chose to make herself ill, but all the same she ought to be ashamed of such skittishness at her age. I don"t believe Gladys knew I was joking; that is the worst of her, she never sees a joke; Etta does, though, for she burst out laughing when my lady walked off to bed in rather a dignified manner. I hope you are not easily offended too, Miss Garston?"
"Oh dear, no," I returned coolly, "only I should be sorry if you had in any way changed your opinion of my steadiness. Miss Darrell hinted that you were vexed with me for keeping your sister, and thought that I was to blame."
Mr. Hamilton looked so bewildered at this that I exonerated him from that moment.
"What nonsense has that girl been talking?" he said, rather irritated.
"I always tell her that tongue of hers will lead her into trouble; I know she talked plenty of rubbish that night. When she said it was a pity that you and Gladys were always chattering secrets, I told her that though you were not a Methuselah, you were hardly the sort of person to indulge in that sort of sentimentality, that I could answer for your good sense in that, and that Etta need not be so hard on a pretty young girl like Gladys. That was not accusing you of want of steadiness."
"No, thank you. I am so glad that I know what you really said."
"Indeed, I was not aware that my good or bad opinion mattered to Miss Garston: you have certainly never given me the impression that you mind very much what I say or think."
Was Mr. Hamilton cross? He looked quite moody all at once; his face wore that hard disagreeable look that I so disliked. He had been so pleasant in his manners ever since that evening at Gladwyn that I was rather sorry that this agreeable state of things should be disturbed. He was evidently not to blame for Miss Darrell"s misrepresentations, so I hastened with much policy to throw oil on the troubled waters.
"I do not know why you should say that. It ought not to be a matter of indifference what people think of us."
"Ought it not? Would you like to know my opinion of you after nearly a month of acquaintance? Let me warn you, I have entirely changed my opinion since our stormy interview in Cunliffe"s study."
I do not know what there was in Mr. Hamilton"s look and manner that made me say hastily,--
"Oh no, I would rather not know, and I hope you will not tell me. I am quite sure you do not misconstrue my motives now."
"You may be quite sure of that," rather grimly, as though my last speech displeased him. "It is difficult not to think you older than you are, you are so terribly sensible and matter-of-fact. How can Gladys get on with you, I wonder? Do you put a moral extinguisher on all her romance?"
"I am not quite so matter-of-fact as you make out, Mr. Hamilton."
He shot an odd sort of glance at me. "When you sing, one can believe that; there is nothing prosaic in a nestful of larks. Poor Phoebe, I do believe you are doing her good: she looks far more human already. By the bye, when are you coming to sing to us again? I told Etta that I was engaged on Thursday, and she declared it was our only free day until Christmas."