CHAPTER XV.
Isola happened that day to leave me before the usual time, being afraidthat her father, who was not in his sweetest mood, would be angry withher. She was grieved of course at the new dissension, and thought me(her ideas were of loose texture) somewhat to blame somehow.Nevertheless she soon forgave me the crime I had not committed.
That day I could paint no more, but sat me down to meditate. Suddenly aloud ring and a louder knock echoed through the house. Quickly Mrs.Shelfer's little feet came pattering up the stairs, and her grey eyesactually seemed to come in first at the door. On the crown of her headher black cap hung, like the top of a chaise doubled back.
"Oh my good friend, look here! I was never so frightened in all mylife."
She held as far from her as she could reach a closed envelope, addressed"Miss Clara Vaughan." I tore it open and read--"Mr. Vaughan is dying,come instantly. Sent by Mrs. Fletcher."
"Telegraph, my good soul," cried Mrs. Shelfer, "Electric TelegraphCompany, all screams the wires red hot, and you must sign the message hesays. And is there any answer? And they give him eighteen pence. Ohdear, I shall never get over it. Never had such a turn since my brotherJohn went, and they tucked him up so bootiful, and I said to the clerkat Barbican--"
"Out of my way if you please. Let me sign the form, and leave me alonea minute. There is no answer."
Should I go or not? Bitterly as I disliked him, could I let him dieamong hirelings and strangers--I, his brother's daughter! A year ago Iwould have done so and thought it the judgment of God. Now I rememberedmy dear mother's death, and doubted about going only because I knew nothow he would take it. My hesitation was very brief. A cab was ordered,Giudice entrusted to Mrs. Shelfer's care, a short note left for Isola, afew things put together anyhow, and I was ready to start.
Even in this hurry a selfish terror smote me, and I cautioned Mrs.Shelfer strictly to conceal both name and destination. She had only tosay that some relative was suddenly taken ill, somewhere down in thecountry; the country being to her mind a desert marked with milestones,my description did not seem unreasonably vague.
As I stood in the passage waiting for the cab, the poor dog, who hadbeen quite flurried, and scented indefinite evil, commenced, prolonged,and would not conclude a howl of passing sadness.
"Oh, my good friend," cried Mrs. Shelfer, "let me stop the cab. Allwaste of money to go. The good gentleman, whoever he is, is as dead asa crabshell now. There was a terrier with a split ear, next door butone, when my poor brother John was ill; his name was Jack, I think, no,Tom; bless me, no, what am I thinking of, Bob--Charley knows, I daresay--"
"Well, send me his name by telegraph. Here's the cab, Mrs. Shelfer."
Heavy thumps of weary wambling feet, grating of wheels, a needless"whoa," and we open the door.
Giudice bolts first into the cab, and sitting upright with his tongueout and a sprightly pant, occupies the whole. It takes the unitedstrength, address, and authority of cabman, landlady, and myself to gethim out again. Then he coils his tail to his stomach, droops his earsand eyes, and receiving two hot tears and a kiss is sidled and deludedinto the narrow passage. The last thing I hear is a howl that winds farround the corner and beyond the square.
In an hour and a half from the delivery of the message, I was in asecond-class carriage, and we shrieked away from Paddington. The hurryand rush overcame me for a while. Soon the April evening was spreadwith shadowy gray, and we were rushing past the wooded waves ofPangbourne, and casting silver rings of steam on the many-fingeredspruce, before I could collect and feel my thoughts again. As we glidedthrough plantations and between the winding hills, with the partridgebeginning his twilight call, the pheasants come out of the coppice tofeed, and the late rook plying his dusky wings, at length the dust andcity turmoil lagged round the corner miles away, and we sparkled in thedewy freshness of the silent moon. Though all alone in the carriage, Ivainly tried for prudence' sake to creep into the cloak of sleep. Everyvein and every pore was full of gushing thrilling electric life. Thecountry, the country! the heavenly country's glory! how had I breathedand groped in the city grave so long? For every thought that dribbledthere and guttered in my brain, a hundred thousand now flow through me,not of brain, but soul. Thoughts I cannot call them, for there is novolition, neither have they sequence, impress, or seen image: only abroad stream gliding, whence and whither I know not. How can I describeto others what I cannot tell myself?
"Glost'! Glost'! change here for Chelt'm!" &c. broke my dreamingsuddenly. It was eleven at night. I had come unwrapped; the heavenlycountry and nature's tide forgot to keep me warm. Out I came upon theplatform, and dreamily began to seek my carpet-bag, for I had no heavyluggage. The moon was struggling with the gas-lights, as nature in mefought with modern life.
"Fly, Miss, fly?" the lonely porter asked.
"Yes, please," said I.
"Where for, Miss?"
"Vaughan St. Mary."--At this part of my life, I dropped the grand"Vaughan Park;" it seemed too fine for me, and I was well content to beof Conrad's class in the world.
"Oh, there's a carriage waiting at every train, if you please, Miss."
And with tenfold politeness the porter showed me across the square toone of the family hearses, which my father and I so detested. It sohappened that the driver and footman were taking some light refreshmentat the bar of a neighbouring edifice, while the horses champed theirbits and whinnied. The men came out against their will, and stared atme in the broad moonshine. I was very simply, plainly, and cheaplydressed, in deep mourning still for my darling mother; but no servant ofeven slight experience could take me, I think, for anything but a lady;little as it matters. The men were half-drunk, very surly at beingdisturbed, and inclined to form a low estimate of my dress andcarpet-bag.
"You mean to say you be Miss Vaughan, young 'ooman?" stuttered thereeling coachman, with his hands beneath his flaps and a short pipe inhis mouth, "Now I tell you plainly, there's no mistake about me mind, Ican't noway credit it. It don't seem likely, do it, Bob?"
"Likely, Jacob? Yes, like enough to a fool; but nohow creditable to thelike of us. Think I don't know now? Perhaps the young 'ooman willanswer a few questions, Jacob."
"Ah, let you alone; let you alone, Bob! Specially for young women!"
"Porter, a cab at once, if you please; or a fly I think you call ithere." Oh my London impudence!
"To be sure, Miss; the best in Gloucester directly. And,Miss"--confidentially, "if I was in your shoes, I'd walk them chapsabout their business to-morrow. How they have been carrying on here, tobe sure, ever since the six o'clock train come in. Why, in the time ofthe old Squire Vaughan--"
"Thank you, the fly, if you please."
In two minutes I was off for my father's home with mighty rattle ofglass, and many jerking noises. About three miles from Gloucester wewere passed by Jacob and Robert, who were sitting side by side anddriving furiously. Convinced at last by the porter of my genuineVaughanship, they had set off full speed to secure first audience.
At length we passed the lodge, where the gates creaked as of yore, anddear old Whitehead trembled at my voice, and so along the great avenuewhere I had studied the manners and ways of every tree, and where Tulip(Nestor among deer) came to stare at us with his grey face silver in themoonlight. Poor old friend, he knew me as well as Giudice did, but Icould not stop to talk to him. Soon as the bell was rung the broad boltof the great lock, which I was once so proud to draw, flew back withsuspicious promptitude.
Albeit he had changed the cloth too ochrously described by Sally, for asuit of gentle gray, and had drawn out his face to a most unjoviallength, and assumed an attitude of very profound respect, there he was,quite unmistakeable to observant eyes, the Bacchanalian Bob.
"And please, Miss"--after he had fussed awhile--"what train did youplease to come by? I understand that the carriage has been waitingthere all day; indeed, I saw it come back from the pa
ntry window myself,and they said in the yard the last train was in afore they come away."
"I came by the train that ought to be there at half-past ten o'clock."
"Well to be sure! That must be the very train as Samuel and Humphrysaid they waited for; but they never has much judgment, them two men.And to let you come in a common fly, Miss!"
"I saw my father's carriage at the station, and two low-looking servantsquite tipsy. Their names, however, were not Samuel and Humphry, butJacob and Robert."
Strange servants now came thronging round, with an obsequiousness solong unknown that it quite disgusted me. No familiar face among them,none whom I could bring myself to ask how my guardian was. But fromtheir servility to me I concluded that his time was short.
"Will you step into the small drawing-room, if you be so kind, Miss?There is a good fire there, Miss, and a lady waiting for you."
"Thank you. Take my things to my own little room, if you please; thatis, if you know which room was called mine."
"Tilly knows, Miss. I'll run and fetch Tilly," cried the officious Bob.
"If Matilda Jenkins is still here, let her answer my bell as long as Iremain."
And therewith I was shown into the room where the lady was expecting me.She sat with her back to the door, and I could only see that she wasrichly attired in full evening dress. There was a powerful smell ofvinegar in the room, and two pastiles were burning. As I walked roundthe table she rose with some reluctance, and I confronted Mrs. Daldy.