CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
A FATEFUL DECISION.
It was all decided. The interview with Uncle Bernard was over, the lastfarewells spoken, and the boxes packed in readiness to go to thestation. In less than an hour the Court and its inhabitants would be athing of the past.
Out of consideration for Mr Farrell's health, the girls had decided notto tell him of their bad news until the morning.
"He has had enough excitement for one day," Mollie said; "let him bequiet to-night. To-morrow morning we will send up mother's letter forhim to read, and ask to see him as soon as possible after breakfast.That will give him time to think over the situation and decide what todo. He must guess that we will want to return home, but if he wishes tokeep us he can easily do so. Oh, to think that with a few strokes ofthe pen he could make us all happy again! I don't know how much moneythe pater needs, but it would probably be the tiniest sum out of UncleBernard's great fortune. Suppose he offered to send a cheque--supposehe gave us a cheque to send, and all was peace and joy again! Hecould--he might--oh, surely he _will_! What is the use of being rich ifone can't help people in trouble?"
But Ruth sighed and shook her head.
"Rich people have not much patience with failures, and the poor oldpater has not the gift of success. I am afraid Uncle Bernard will bemore inclined to blame than to help." And as events proved she wasright.
Mr Farrell sent word that he would be at liberty at ten o'clock in thesitting-room adjoining his bedroom, and the first few minutes of theinterview proved that his attitude towards the family trouble was one ofscornful impatience rather than sympathy. He was apparently quiteunprepared for the girls, determination, and would not at first believein its sincerity.
"You are surely joking," he said scathingly. "If your parents are insuch straits as you describe, how do you propose to help them by givingthem two more people to keep and feed? It appears to me that your roomwould be more valuable than your company."
Ruth flushed painfully.
"We hope to be able to help, not to hinder. When a child like Trix hasalready found work, we ought not to lag behind. It would be impossibleto go on living in the lap of luxury, wearing fine clothes, eating finemeals, being waited upon hand and foot, while our own people are inactual need."
"Unless--" interrupted Mollie, and then stopped short, while Mr Farrellturned sharply towards her.
"Unless what? Finish your sentence, if you please."
"Unless you will help them for us!" gasped Mollie, crimson, but daring."It would be so easy for you to lend the pater what he needs, and hewould promise to pay you back--we would all promise! We would worknight and day until it was made up."
Mr Farrell smiled sardonically.
"At last! I knew it must come. It would not be Mollie if she had anyscruples about asking for what she wanted. No, my dear, I never lend.It is against my principles to throw good money after bad. At the riskof appearing a monster of cruelty, I must refuse to interfere in yourstepfather's affairs. There are still six weeks of your visit here torun, and I shall be pleased to relieve him of your support for thattime; otherwise--"
"We are much obliged, but we have decided to go home. You wished to beable to judge our characters, and you have had enough time to do so,with very unsatisfactory results, if we are to judge from yesterday'sconversation!" cried Ruth, with a sudden burst of indignation. "If youcan believe us capable of prying into your desk, you will surely not besorry to get rid of us altogether!"
The old man looked at her long and thoughtfully.
"Yes," he said quietly, "it's a pity--a very great pity--that the twothings should have happened together. It is as unsatisfactory to me asto you that you should leave before the culprit has been discovered.But it is useless now to argue the point if your minds are already madeup. Taking everything into consideration--the peculiar circumstanceswith regard to my will, your original acceptance of my invitation--do Istill understand that you wish to leave me to-day?"
"It is our duty to go home. Yes, we have quite decided," said Ruth.
The old man's eyes turned towards the younger girl.
"And you, Mollie?"
"Yes, uncle; I'm sorry, but we can't leave mother alone just now."
Mr Farrell sat silent, his eyebrows lowered, his head hanging forwardon his chest, so that it was difficult to see the expression of hisface; but the pose of the figure suggested weariness and disappointment.Suddenly he stretched out his hand and touched an electric bell. Aservant appeared almost immediately, and was asked a hasty question--
"Is Mr Druce still in the house?"
"I believe so, sir. He was in the morning-room a few minutes ago."
"Go down and tell him that I should be obliged if he would come up hereat once."
The girls exchanged puzzled glances as the servant departed on hiserrand; but they did not dare to speak, and, as Mr Farrell relapsedinto his former downcast attitude, the silence was broken only by thesound of Victor's approaching footsteps. He entered the room confidentand smiling, but drew up with a start of surprise at seeing the twogirls. He was evidently disappointed at their presence, and vaguelyuneasy; but after the first involuntary movement his features quicklyresumed their mask-like calm.
"You sent for me, sir. Is there anything I can do?"
Mr Farrell raised his head and looked at him thoughtfully. It wasseldom indeed that he allowed himself to show any sign of interest inhis young companions, so that this steady scrutiny was the moreremarkable. Even Victor's composure suffered beneath it, for a tinge ofcolour crept into his pale cheeks, and he moved uneasily to and fro.
"What is it, sir?" he repeated. "I hope nothing fresh has happened todistress you."
"Thank you, Druce. My plans have been still further upset this morning,as, owing to news received from home, my nieces have decided to leavethe Court at once. That means that three out of the four whom Iselected for my experiment have, of their own accord, refused to carryout the conditions. Under these circumstances, I think it is only rightto offer to release you from your promise, if you prefer to return homeat the same time. Everything will be changed, and you may not care tostay on with only myself as a companion."
Victor's eyelids dropped, and a quiver of emotion passed over his face.Ruth saw it, and, with a sinking heart, realised that it resembledexultation rather than grief. He was silent for a moment, but when hespoke nothing could well have been more dignified and natural than wordsand manner--
"If it will inconvenience you in any way to entertain me alone, I am, ofcourse, perfectly ready to leave; but if you give me the choice--if itis left to me to decide, sir--I should prefer to keep my promise, andstay for the remainder of the time. I might perhaps be of some help toyou when you are alone."
The strained expression on Mr Farrell's face gave place to one ofunmistakable satisfaction.
"That is good!" he replied heartily. "I am glad to find that you atleast have some appreciation of the nature of a bargain. It will belonely for you, but I am the more obliged for your decision. I won'tkeep you any longer just now, as we shall have other opportunities ofconversation, and I have my adieux to make."
The door closed behind Victor, and Mr Farrell turned immediatelytowards his eldest grand-niece, as if anxious to get through an ordeal.
"Well, Ruth, I must bid you good-bye. I trust you will have a pleasantjourney, and find matters at home less serious than you anticipate."
"Thank you, Uncle Bernard." Ruth extended a cold little hand, and stoodhesitating by his side, while his sunken eyes dwelt upon the face whichin feature was so like his own. "I've enjoyed the time--part of thetime--more than anything else in my life! I'm sorry if I have donewrong in any way; I wanted only to please you!"
"For my own sake, or for what I could give?"
The question came sharp and abrupt, and Ruth's cheeks flamed beneath it.She hesitated painfully, gathering courage to speak the truth.
"Oh, I know I have been
mercenary! I'm sick of being poor, and I lovethe Court and the easy, luxurious life. I wanted the money more thananything in the world; but it's all over now, and it's partly your ownfault, for you _did_ tempt me! Please forgive me before I go!"
"I forgive you, Ruth. It is quite true that I tempted you, and you arenot fitted to bear temptation. But there is no need to bear enmity.Good-bye!"
He held out his hand again--held it at a distance, and with a formalitywhich forbade a warmer farewell; and Ruth turned away, downcast andmiserable. Those words, "You are not fitted to bear temptation," seemedto denote that in his mind there still dwelt a lingering suspicion lestshe might have yielded to her anxiety to look at the will, and had thenlacked the courage for confession. Well, it was all over, and it wasuseless to protest. So perish earthly hopes!
Mr Farrell turned towards his remaining niece.
"Well, Mollie, and so you also are resolved to leave me?"
"There was only one alternative, Uncle Bernard, and you refused it. Ifyou won't help mother, we must lose no time in getting to work. We arebreaking no promise, remember. We said we would stay if she could spareus, and now the time has come when she needs to have us back."
"You believe you can find work--work which will pay--a child like you,with the plainest of educations?"
"I am sure of it. I am not going to teach, but I shall be able to dosomething. I should be ashamed of myself if I couldn't--a big, strongcreature like me! I am sorry to go--much more sorry than you willbelieve! I've been very happy these few weeks."
"I know you have. I have known more than you are aware of, perhaps.But you will not regret your departure so much, as Jack Melland isleaving at the same time. He has been your special companion, I think."
The blood flew to Mollie's cheeks under the scrutiny of the sunken eyes,and, to her consternation, spread even higher and higher, until she wascrimson to the roots of her hair. She tried in vain to answer withcomposure, but could only stammer confusedly--
"He has been very nice. I like him the best--better than Mr Druce.But he decided--we decided,--our reasons for leaving are absolutelyindependent of each other, Uncle Bernard."
"I know--I know!"
He turned aside, and remained silent for a few minutes, as if to allowher time to recover composure, then once more held out his hand infarewell.
"Well, good-bye, Mollie. We also must agree to forgive and forget!"
Mollie bent over his chair, one hand resting on each arm, theembarrassment of a moment before dying a sudden death in the face of aparting which, in the nature of things, must be for ever.
"Uncle Bernard," she said softly, "if your Ned were alive, and you werein trouble, you would like him to hurry home to you, whatever it mightcost! And if She were alive, and poor and distraught, you would ratherhe worked for her, than left her that he might fill the greatest post onearth. Judge us by that thought when you feel inclined to be hard! Iknow you don't like kissing people, so I am going to kiss you instead.There! Good-bye; and God bless you!"
She turned away with tears in her eyes, but half-way to the door thesound of her own name made her pause.
"Mollie!" he cried, in a sharp, resolute voice, which sent her heartbeating with sudden hope.
But, even as her eyes met his, his expression changed once more.
"No, no; it is better as it is! I have nothing to say!"
Mollie turned away sadly and walked out of the room.