CHAPTER XVI
Bringing Bad Tidings
'A man should never be ashamed to own he has been in the wrong, whichis but saying, in other words, that he is wiser to-day than he wasyesterday.'--_Pope._
It was towards the end of February that old Nannie sat by her fire inthe peaceful almshouse in which she had taken shelter. Rain wasfalling fast, and when she heard a knock at her door, she hardly turnedin her chair, for she thought it could be only one of her neighbourscome for a chat.
When the new-comer came silently forward and stood in front of her,Nannie looked up with a gasp and a cry.
'Miss Gwen! My dear Miss Gwen, is it you? Where do you come from?And oh, how ill you look!'
Gwen bent over the old woman and kissed her; then she took a seat byher and gave a hard little laugh.
'Oh no, I am not ill. I wish I could be--at least, I am almost cowardenough to wish it. I only landed early this morning in the LondonDocks. I have come from California, Nannie. Aren't you glad to seeme?'
Gwen was clad in a plain dark blue serge and sailor hat, but somehowhad not her habitual neat appearance. Her face was wan and white, sheseemed to have aged ten years, and her once sparkling eyes were now dimand worn-looking.
'Just off a voyage,' murmured Nannie, putting on her spectacles andpeering anxiously into her face. 'Ay, my dear, surely them foreignparts don't bring such change and misery to all the folks who ventureout?'
Gwen laughed again.
'Every one, I hope, has not had my experience,' she said. 'If I mayquote from your favourite book, Nannie, I can say truly, "I went outfull, and have been brought home again empty!"'
'"The Lord hath brought me home again empty,"' corrected Nannie.
Then Gwen leant forward, and taking Nannie's two hands in hers, shesaid in a hard, strained voice:
'Nannie, I have come to you because I am desperate, and I thoughtperhaps you would give me courage to face them at home. I have neverhad such a hard task set me in my life; but I deserve it, and I am notgoing to flinch from my duty. I have ruined four people's lives, myown included!'
She strangled a dry sob in her throat, then went on,--grasping thewithered hands in hers, as a drowning man might a rope,--'Nannie, doyou remember my verse you gave me this time last year?'
'Ay, Miss Gwen, my dear, surely, and many's the prayer I've offered upat the throne of grace for you! "Commit thy way unto the Lord, trustalso in Him, and He shall bring it to pass!" Maybe you've come to theend of your own ways by this time--will that be it?'
'Judgment has come on me. I was so sure, so certain of my plans. Ifrustrated every difficulty, I forced some against their will to assistme in carrying them out; and yet all this last year your verse hashaunted me. I was determined to be independent of God. I was soself-assured, and my pride and spirit carried me through all, that Ilaughed at the idea of failure; and then when the blow fell, it crushedevery atom of self-confidence and spirit out of me! I am a poor,miserable, broken-down creature, Nannie; what can you say to help me?'
Nannie gently withdrew her hands, and leaning forward, placed them onGwen's shoulders. Then in a tender, solemn tone she said, '"Blessedare the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven!"'
There was dead silence for a few moments, and then Gwen bowed her headin her old nurse's lap, and tears came thick and fast.
Nannie let her cry on, but her lips moved in prayer. 'Dear Lord, Thouhast smitten to heal; Thou hast broken to mend; let her meet with Theenow, and get Thy blessing!'
'I have never shed a tear until now,' uttered Gwen at last, looking upat Nannie with almost a pathetic look in her tear-dimmed eyes. 'I feltmy trouble was too great for tears. I was turning to stone until I sawyou. Oh, Nannie, if you knew all, you would be sorry for me!'
Will you be telling it to me, Miss Gwen?'
'Yes, indeed I will.'
Gwen gave a rough sketch of her life for the first month with herbrother. She told of the bitter blow it was to find him about to bemarried; and then told Nannie of Mr. Montmorency's arrival, and thepressure put upon her brother to sell his farm, and join him in hisquest for gold.
'I gave him no rest, Nannie, until he promised to do as I wanted. Ieven went to the girl he was going to marry, and coaxed and entreatedher to add her persuasions to mine. She was bitterly disappointed,poor little thing, at their marriage being postponed, but she wasthoroughly unselfish, and only thought of Walter's good. Mr.Montmorency worked hard too. He wanted more capital, and said Waltermust do his share in getting it, if he was to be a partner, so I workedwith all my might and main to get it for him. I persuaded Meta Setonto invest a legacy of hers in the scheme; I wrote home and implored allthe others to invest in it too. I put all the money I had myself init, and then when all was done, and I had broken up Walter's home, Isat down in complacency and waited for the success that was sure tofollow. I can't tell you when the first doubts of the whole thingcrept into my mind. I only know the last four months have been ones oftorturing suspense and uncertainty. I wonder I have not come homegrey-headed. The crash came six weeks or so ago. Mr. Montmorency,after ruining himself, my brother, and hundreds of others, decamped,and has not been heard of since. It was simply a mad speculation seton foot by a clever man with little capital of his own. Walter isruined; he has crept back to his own part of the country, and has tobegin life all over again; his hopes of a married life and a happy homehave been dashed to the ground. Meta's father is so enraged at hisdaughter's legacy being lost, that he has forbidden Walter the house,and his bride as well as his farm has been taken from him. I wonder hedid not curse me, as he came to see me off in the steamer; but hisface--the hopelessness and despair written there--was quite enough forme. And now I am going back to break to Clare and Elfie that they aswell as myself are absolute beggars. Agatha was the only wise oneamongst us. She refused to trust Mr. Montmorency with one farthing ofher money.'
'Ay, my dear, it's terrible--terrible for you; but loss of money is notruin. You have health and strength and youth to sustain you, andthough the cloud has been dark, it will have a silver lining!'
'How can I tell them!' cried Gwen; and her face grew set and hard, asshe stood up, and dashed the tear-drops from her eyelashes. 'They haveno idea I am returning home, or what has happened. I have been to ourlawyer before I came to you, and though he has heard bad reports of Mr.Montmorency, he has never said a word to them. Do you realize I havebeggared our whole family, Nannie? Poor Clare has had trouble enoughof her own, without this in addition; and Elfie, who has never had acare or thought, how will she take it? I wish--I wish I were dead!'
'Hush, hush, my dear!' said Nannie, almost sternly. 'That would be acoward's wish, and you are not that! If you learn the lesson the Lordwould have you learn, you may yet live to find that this big troublehas been the biggest blessing in your life.'
'Do you think if I had been like Agatha, who prays even if she goesshopping that she may spend the money properly, and if I had committedmy plans to God, this would have happened, Nannie?'
'No, I don't think it would,' was Nannie's grave reply.
Then there was silence, which Nannie broke by begging Gwen to have somerefreshment.
'No, thank you, Nannie, I must be going. I wish I had done with life,and was in an almshouse with you. It would be so easy to be all thatone ought to be. Good-bye, you old dear. Pray for me, for I have adreadful time before me, and I don't see how on earth we are to live.I shall have to earn money somehow at once. Perhaps I shall go intoservice--that is the fashion now. Ladies are becoming servants to theclass who used to be in service. Give me your blessing and let me go!'
Gwen was talking fast and lightly to hide her emotion, but old Nannietook hold of her hands and looked up at her very solemnly.
'My dear Miss Gwen, you have heard God's voice speaking to you manytimes since you were a little girl. You are hearing it again now. Areyou going to close your ear to it? If your pride and self-confidenc
eis crumbled to dust, 'tis the opportunity to confess it to Him whohates a proud look, and says the humble shall be exalted. Take yourbitterness of soul to the Saviour, and He will heal and comfort you.Promise me you will listen to His voice!'
'You're a saint, Nannie; I promise you I will pray, if I have neverdone so before. Good-bye.'
She went out into the pouring rain, found her way back to the station,and an hour after was at Waterloo Station starting for Brambleton. Shewas just getting into the carriage when some one accosted her. It wasClement Arkwright, who had travelled out to California with her. Helooked unfeignedly pleased to see her.
'Just come home again, Miss Dane? How did you like California?'
Gwen hardly knew how to answer him. A rush of memories came over her.The time on board ship when she had so systematically avoided him, andcultivated with assiduity the one who had ruined her, stood up beforeher with awful distinctness. But she pulled herself together, andtried to speak unconcernedly.
'I am glad to be back again.'
'How is your brother? I hope the report I heard was not true, that hehad joined Alf Montmorency in his search for gold?'
Gwen was in the carriage now, and the train was just starting. Shespoke on the impulse of the moment, and Clement Arkwright never forgotthe look of despairing hopelessness on her face as she held out herhand to him.
'Good-bye--we are off. You told me once that I would bring disasterupon myself by my obstinate wilfulness. I have done so. You warned meon the steamer against Mr. Montmorency. But I would not listen, and hehas ruined the whole lot of us.'
The train steamed out of the station, and Clement Arkwright turned awaywith a grave, thoughtful face.
'Poor Gwen! Yet it will be the making of her, if she can once be gotto confess that her judgment is not infallible. I should like to gethold of that scoundrel!'
It was about five o'clock when Gwen reached Brambleton. She left herluggage at the station, and tramped through the driving rain and windwith fierce indifference, arriving at Jasmine Cottage with drenchedgarments, and weary, footsore feet.
The lamps were lighted in the drawing-room, and the shutters were notclosed. Gwen stepped quietly up to the window and looked in. It was acosy, cheerful scene. Agatha was sitting with a smile on her face by abright fire, knitting in hand. Clare was reading aloud on the oppositeside of the fireplace, and Elfie in her favourite position on the lowfender-stool, tempting a grey Persian kitten to perform acrobaticalantics with Agatha's ball of wool.
'How changed will be the scene a few minutes later!' thought Gwenbitterly, and she knocked sharply at the door. It was opened by a maidwho had superseded Jane, and who looked suspiciously at the drenchedfigure.
'You have mistaken this for the vicarage,' she said superciliously.'If you want shelter or food, you will get it there!'
Gwen swung her aside with a quick impatient laugh, and opened thedrawing-room door. In another moment, with cries of astonishment anddelight, her sisters were caressing and welcoming her; but she pushedthem away from her.
'Let me tell you how I come back first,' she said sharply. 'You willnot give me such a hearty welcome when you know. I have ruined Walter;the gold company has been a big swindle, and every penny of our moneyhas all gone. Now what do you say to me?'
'Never mind the money now,' said Agatha, who was never discomposed.'Come upstairs to bed at once, you are wet through. How could you walkthrough such a storm! Not another word till you have had something toeat. Come along--you are dead beat.'
She led her away, motioning to Clare and Elfie not to follow, and theystood looking at each other with dazed, bewildered eyes.
'Does she mean it? Is it really true?' exclaimed Elfie, 'Oh, how illshe looks!'
'What a dreadful thing for Walter!' was Clare's response; and then thefull force of Gwen's words dawned upon them.
'Whatever shall we do? Agatha's hundred pounds will not keep four ofus!'
When Agatha returned to the room, nearly an hour later, she found ananxious consultation going on by the fire. Her face was just as placidas usual, though a shade graver.
'I have left her to sleep,' she said; 'it is the best thing for her.She seems quite worn out, and I think it is best for none of us to gonear her till the morning.'
'Is it really true what she says?'
'I am afraid so. I would not let her give me details. She is sofilled with remorse at having persuaded you to invest your money so,that I saw she was working herself into a perfect fever over it, and Istopped her at once. I am thankful she is home again. I have beenvery uneasy about her lately.'
'I never thought you were uneasy about anything,' said Clare, trying tosmile.
'We are planning what we can do to earn our livelihood, Agatha,' saidElfie. 'Have you any idea to give us?'
'We will not go into that to-night,' was Agatha's quiet response.'This house is our own, and so is the furniture. We have sufficientfor the present. When Gwen has got over the fatigue of her journey, wewill have a talk together about ways and means.'
Just before going to her own room for the night, Agatha stepped quietlyinto Gwen's room.
She found her lying wide awake staring at the flickering fire with ahard set face, and determined lips. Agatha came up and put her hand onher forehead.
'You are feverish,' she said. 'Are you comfortable? Do you not feelsleepy?'
'Would you?' was the quick retort.
'I am sure I should, after the journey you have had. Oh, Gwen dear,don't look so! There are worse losses than money. Don't reproachyourself too much.' And Agatha was so touched by the hopeless miseryin her sister's face that tears filled her eyes.
Gwen looked at her, and her face began to soften.
'You're a good old thing, Agatha. I wish I were more like you. Youwill need all your faith and prayer now, and so will the others.Good-night.'
She turned her face away, and with a kiss and an unspoken prayer,Agatha left her.