CHAPTER XXVIII
Mrs. Tropenell stood by the window of the pretty, old-fashionedsitting-room which she had now occupied for over a week, and which sheknew would be, in a special sense, her own room, after she had becameLady St. Amant.
She was already dressed for the drive home with Laura Pavely. It wasnearly twelve o'clock, and the car would be round in a few minutes. Butshe was waiting on, up here, for her son, for after breakfast Oliver hadsaid casually: "I'll come up to your room for a moment, mother--I meanbefore you start for Freshley."
She looked round the room consideringly. Nothing in it had been alteredfor something like fifty years. Above the Italian marble chimney-piecewas a good portrait, in oils, of Lord St. Amant's father, and on eitherside of the fireplace were crayon drawings of St. Amant as a little boy,and of his two sisters as little girls. Everything here epitomised theplacid, happy life of the good and fortunate woman who had been Lord St.Amant's mother.
But the pretty, old-fashioned, peaceful-looking room told also of thestrange transience of human life. With the exception of that earlyVictorian crayon drawing of the stalwart little boy, almost everythingin the nature of a relic or memento spoke of some human being long dead.
Mrs. Tropenell felt curiously at peace. There was something almostfinal about the feeling which possessed her. Up to last night she hadbeen anxious, restless, full of a secret, painful doubt as to whethershe was doing right in marrying Lord St. Amant.
But now, this morning, her doubts had gone, partly owing to a verytrifling thing, a quick perception of how well St. Amant and Oliver goton together--now. She had been alone with them at breakfast, and theyhad talked eagerly together, passing quickly from one subject toanother, with no intervals of silence. When, at last, Oliver had got up,St. Amant also had risen, and put his arm with an affectionate gestureround the younger man's shoulder, and she had caught a strange look, alook of moved gratitude, on Oliver's dark face....
She had dreaded telling her son of her resolve--but the dread had lefther, and she made up her mind to tell him this morning--not to wait, asshe had half thought of doing, till he was at home again.
St. Amant and Oliver were going to shoot this afternoon over landbelonging to little Alice Pavely. Laura had let The Chase shooting to aneighbour, and the neighbour, whose name was Buckhurst, had invited theother two to join his shooting party to-day, and to-morrow also. Oliverwas coming home to Freshley in between....
The door opened. "Mother, may I come in?"
She turned quickly, all her heart, as always, welcoming him. With alittle, unacknowledged pang she told herself that Oliver was growingolder, that he was losing the look of buoyancy that he had kept so long.But what a fine, strong, vigorous-looking man he looked!--as he stoodthere, smiling rather gravely at her.
"Oliver?" she exclaimed, suddenly making up her mind to rush herfence--it was a simile which still often occurred to her--"Oliver, mydear, I want to tell you something. I have promised Lord St. Amant tomarry him."
He looked moved and surprised--perhaps more than she had expected him tobe. But his answer came instantly: "I am glad, mother. I'm very, veryglad! I want to tell you, I've meant to tell you for some time, that Ifelt I've been very churlish in this matter of Lord St. Amant. He'salways been good to me! Very, very good. I owed him a great deal as aboy. Lately, well, mother, you must have noticed it yourself, we'vebecome really friends."
He looked swiftly round the pretty room. Till this morning he had alwaysbeen here alone with Laura, having eyes only for her. He saw now what acharming room it was--so warm, so cosy too, on this chilly, wintryDecember day.
He exclaimed: "It will be good to think of you here--wherever I maybe----"
She felt a tremor go through her. Somehow she had thought that he meantto settle down in England; he had never said anything about it, but shehad thought that that was his intention.
"Is Laura willing to spend a part of every year in Mexico, my dearest?"
He nodded, rather absently, as if the question hardly required ananswer.
She moved closer to him. "You are very happy, are you not, Oliver?" sheasked in a low voice, and looking up into his face.
And again he answered at once, almost as though he had seen the questionin her eyes before she uttered it: "Very, very happy, mother! I don'tsuppose any man has ever been happier than I have been."
Again she put an intimate, probing question, wondering at her owncourage, her own temerity, in doing so. "Laura wholly satisfies you?"she asked, allowing nothing of the doubt which was still in her heart tocreep into her voice.
"Wholly," he said, again in that strong, confident voice. "And,mother--?" he waited a moment, and then, in a voice suddenly tense withemotion, he muttered--"what she is to me, I, all unworthy though I be,am to her. Do you know what--what response means to a man?"
"I think I do," she said in a low voice.
They remained silent. She felt as if she were, for the first time, fusedin intense spiritual communion with her son.
He broke the spell. "There's something I want you to know," he said. Andthen he stopped short, and, looking away, exclaimed, "Laura shall tellyou!" The carriage gong echoed through the great house. He opened thedoor, she passed through it, and so together they walked down to thelarge, rather bare hall. There they waited a few moments in silence,till there came the sound of light footsteps--Laura running downstairs,a small fur cap on her beautiful head.
She hurried towards them, smiling, and Mrs. Tropenell turned away--atwinge of jealous pain, of which she was ashamed, in her heart--andstared into the big log fire.
She heard Oliver exclaim, in accents at once imploring and imperious:"Laura? Come over here a moment."
At last she, the mother, turned slowly round, to see, through thehalf-open door of Lord St. Amant's study, the two standing together,locked in each other's arms, Laura looking up into Oliver's face with anexpression of rapt devotion, of entire absorption, in her blue,heavy-lidded eyes. As their lips met, Mrs. Tropenell looked quicklyaway. She asked herself if this exalted passion could last, and whether,after all, Oliver were not happier now than he could ever hope to beagain?
Laura was very silent during the first half of their homeward drive, butat last she amazed Mrs. Tropenell by suddenly saying: "I want you toknow--I feel I must tell you--that Oliver and I were married, in London,ten days ago. And I think--oh, Aunt Letty, I do think that he ishappy--at last!"
She said the words very simply, and Mrs. Tropenell felt extraordinarilymoved. This then was what Oliver had wanted her to know, and man-likehad felt too--too shy to tell her.
"I am very grateful to you for what you have done," she exclaimed, andheld the younger woman's hand tightly clasped in hers for a moment.
That was all. But before they parted Laura gave his mother a messagefrom Oliver. It was quite an unimportant message, simply that on his wayhome he meant to look in at The Chase.
"You don't mind, do you?" Laura asked, a little hesitatingly. AndOliver's mother smiled.
"Of course not, my dear--I'm glad he should! Perhaps you'd like to comeback with him, and stay on for dinner?"
But Laura, reddening with one of her rather rare, vivid blushes, shookher head. "I think I ought to stay at home the first evening," she said,"and put Alice to bed. She loves my putting her to bed. I don't wantAlice ever to feel jealous."
But this time Mrs. Tropenell made no answer. Poor little Alice! It wouldbe strange indeed if the child did not feel a little jealous as timewent on--if, that is, Laura went on being, as she seemed to be, almostmystically absorbed in this wonderful, glowing thing which had come intoher life.
* * * * *
It was the afternoon of the same day, and Mrs. Tropenell, after dealingwith the various matters which had accumulated during her week'sabsence, had gone up to her room to rest before Oliver's return. Lyingon her bed, in the fast-gathering twilight, thinking over all that hadhappened, and all that was happening, to herself and to those
she loved,Mrs. Tropenell dozed off for a few moments. Then, in a long flash whichseemed to contain aeons of sensation, she went through an amazing andterrifying experience!
On the dead stillness which reigned both within and without the housethere suddenly rang out a shot. At the same moment, if not indeedbefore, her whole being seemed to be bracing itself up to endure a greatordeal. It was as if her spirit, vanquishing a base, secret, physicalterror of the unknown, was about to engage on a great adventure.
With a stifled cry she sat up, and then she realised, with a gasp ofrelief, that she had been dreaming, only dreaming--but her heart went onbeating for a long time with the excitement, the mingled terror andexaltation of spirit, she had just gone through.
At last, feeling curiously languid and shaken, she went downstairs, andhad tea in the drawing-room.
It was only a little after five; probably Oliver would not come in tilljust before it was time to dress for dinner.
The stillness of the house oppressed her. She got up, and movedrestlessly about the room. The curtains had been drawn and the fire madeup while she had been upstairs. She went across to one of the windows,and, behind the closed curtains, opened it widely. And as she opened thewindow, and stood by it, breathing in the cold, moist air, she heard thesound of branches being pushed aside across a little-used path which waseven a shorter cut to The Chase than was the beech-wood avenue.
Then Oliver was coming home earlier than Laura had thought he would?
She stepped out quickly into the open air, on to the flagged path.
She could hear quick footsteps now--but they were not Oliver'sfootsteps. It was probably a maid coming back from the village which laybeyond The Chase. But even so there crept a slight feeling of anxietyover her heart. "Who's there?" she called out.
Close out of the twilit darkness there came the instant hoarse answer:"It's Laura, Aunt Letty."
"Laura? Oh, my dear, you'll catch cold!" for Laura, without hat orcloak, was now there, before her.
"Aunt Letty? I've brought bad news--there's been an accident."
"To Oliver?" But she knew, even as she asked the question, what theanswer would be.
"Yes--Oliver. They went on too long in the twilight--he stumbled, andhis gun went off. They're bringing him home--now."
Laura was staring before her, her eyes veiled, glassy, like those of ablind woman.
"They wanted to bring him to The Chase. But there was a doctor there,and he said nothing would be of any use. So I told them to bring himhome--to you."
Both women waited in the grateful darkness, dry-eyed and still.
At last Mrs. Tropenell said uncertainly: "Come indoors, Laura."
But Laura shook her head. "No, I'd rather stay out here, if you don'tmind, Aunt Letty."
Not quite knowing what she was doing or why, Mrs. Tropenell walkedforward and opened the door into the hall. There she took down a cloak,and coming out again, she put it round Laura. And they stood therewaiting--till there broke on their ears the heavy tramp of men's feetcarrying a burden.