CHAPTER VI
After leaving Teresina, Godfrey made his way back to his hotel. As hestrode along he meditated as to what he should do to help her. That thegirl was in serious trouble, he had not the least doubt; but since shewould not allow him to assist her in any form, what could he do?
He had been through a good deal that day, and by the time he reached hishotel he was quite worn out. The night porter who admitted him noticedhis haggard appearance.
"You don't look very well, sir," he said, sympathetically; "is thereanything I can do for you?"
"If you could manage to get me a brandy and soda, I should be very muchobliged," Godfrey said, as he dropped into one of the seats in the hall.
"I will do so with pleasure, sir," the man replied, and disappeared atonce in search of the refreshment, which he very soon brought back.Godfrey drank it off, and then announced his intention of proceeding atonce to bed.
"Poor little Teresina!" he said to himself as he wound up his watch;"poor little girl, it seems a shame that she should suffer so!"
Little did he guess that at that moment Teresina's troubles were over,that she would never know sorrow or poverty again.
Next morning he returned to Detwich by an early train. Though he hadonly been absent from it a little more than twenty-four hours, it seemedto him that he had been away for years.
"You look tired out, Godfrey," said his mother, as they stood togetherin the hall.
"I did not have a very good night last night," he said, "and I had ahard day's running about yesterday. That is all. You needn't worry aboutme, mother; I'm as strong as a horse."
He went on to tell his mother of his meeting with Fensden, and informedher that the latter intended coming to stay with them next day.
"That will be very nice," she said. "You will enjoy having him. I shallput him up in the south wing in order that he may be near you. Thewall-papers are more subdued there. I know, of old, how he notices thesethings."
"I don't think he will bother himself very much about wall-papers," saidGodfrey, with a laugh. "He declares that he is so tired of travellingthat the quiet of an English country house will brace him up again."
"I have no doubt it will," said the old lady: "I remember when yourfather took me to Paris for our honeymoon, the mere sound of the Frenchlanguage gave me a headache. I never hear it now without thinking ofthat time. And now tell me about Molly. Did she enjoy the play you tookher to see?"
"Immensely," he replied. "She sent her love to you, and bade me tell youthat she would be very pleased to come over to meet Fensden on Saturday.I only hope that she won't be knocked up by all this shopping."
His mother shook her head.
"I don't think you need have any fear on that score," she said. "When agirl is about to be married to the man of her heart, the collection ofher _trousseau_ becomes a labour of love. She will make a beautifulbride, worthy of my boy. I can't say more than that."
"You shouldn't say so much," said Godfrey. "If your boy were to believeall the compliments you pay him, he would become insufferably conceited.And now I must go round and see how things have been progressing in myabsence."
The following morning witnessed Molly's arrival at the Hall. It was thefirst time she had stayed there since her engagement, and in consequenceshe was received with rapturous delight by her lover. Though they hadonly been parted for a day, they seemed to have a hundred things to telleach other. There were, moreover, certain important matters to bediscussed connected with the internal arrangements of the house of whichshe was so soon to be mistress. I believe, so infatuated was the youngman that, had she expressed a desire to have the whole fabric pulleddown, and rebuilt in another fashion, he would have set about the workat once.
"You are quite sure there is nothing else you would like to have done?"he asked, when they had made the tour of inspection, and wereapproaching to the drawing-room once more.
"You have done too much already," she replied, looking affectionately ather lover. "I very much doubt if ever there was a girl so spoilt as I.You will have to make up for it by ruling me with a rod of ironafterward."
"God forbid that I should ever do that," he said seriously. "I hope Ishall always be an indulgent husband to you."
"Not too indulgent," she said. "For my own sake, you must not be. Idon't want to be like a spoilt child."
"You will never be that," he said. "To me you will always be themost----"
"Hush!" she said, holding up her finger in warning. "I think we mustmake it a rule to avoid every sort of compliment. I have had more thanis good for me already."
"I shall find it difficult to obey you, but I will try," he returned."And now come with me to the studio; I have one thing left to show you."
"What is that?"
"You must wait and see for yourself," he replied, and led the waythrough the conservatory to the room of which he had spoken. They foundthe easel covered with a cloth. This he drew aside.
"It is my present to you," he said, referring to the picture he hadrevealed, "to be hung in your own room."
"Oh, Godfrey, how good of you! What a splendid likeness!"
It was, in fact, a portrait of himself upon which he had been workinghard ever since his engagement had been announced. He had intended it asa surprise, and in the pleasure he gave her, he felt that he had beenamply repaid for the labour it had cost him.
"I shall treasure it all my life long," she said, and rewarded him in amanner that would have turned many folks green with envy.
"And now," she said, when she had gazed her full upon it, "I want you toshow me a photograph of your friend, Mr. Fensden, if you have one.Remember I have no idea what he is like."
"That can very easily be remedied," he said. "I have a photo which wastaken in Rome, and a small portrait that I painted myself."
So saying, he crossed the room to his writing-table, and, having openeda drawer, took from it a packet of cabinet photographs. They were, forthe most part, likenesses of old friends, and when he had selected oneof Victor from the number, he placed it before her.
"So that is Mr. Fensden?" she said, seating herself in what he calledhis business chair.
For some moments she studied it attentively. Then she replaced it on thewriting-table.
"Well, now that you have seen the portrait, what do you think of him?"Godfrey asked, as he turned over some canvases on the other side of theroom.
"I scarcely know what to say," she replied, slowly. "It is a refinedface, a clever one, if you like; but, if I may be allowed to say what Ithink, there is something in it, I can not tell what, that I do not careabout. I fancy the eyes are set a little too close together." Then sheadded more quickly: "I hope I have not offended you, dear. I should nothave spoken so candidly."
"Why shouldn't you?" he inquired. "Perhaps, now you speak of it, theeyes are a little too close together. But you must wait until you haveseen the man himself before you judge him. I assure you he can be acharming companion."
"I gathered as much from his photograph," she answered, taking it up andlooking at it again, "At what time does he arrive to-day?"
"In time for afternoon tea," said Godfrey. "I am going to drive in tomeet him."
Molly made a little _moue_; with the selfishness of love, she did notapprove of Godfrey leaving her, if only for so short a time. And, if thetruth be confessed, I fear she was a little jealous of the man who wasto be responsible for his absence. It is not always that a sweetheart isany too well disposed toward her lover's bachelor friends. For somereason, Fensden's photograph had prejudiced her against him. She wasresolved to be just; but she felt convinced in her own mind that shewould never be able to say that she really liked or trusted the man. Shedid not tell Godfrey this.
In accordance with the arrangements he had made, that afternoon, atabout three o'clock, Godfrey drove off to the station to meet hisfriend. He was looking forward to seeing him, if only that he might showhim how great was the difference between the sketch the other had drawnof his f
uture wife that night in the desert, and the reality. I fancy ifEngland had been searched through that day, a happier young man than themaster of Detwich would have been difficult to find. Yet, though hecould not guess it, the climax of his life was only a few hours'distant.
As he drove along, he thought of Molly and the happiness that was to behis portion in the future. Then his thoughts turned to Teresina. Whilehe had prospered in the world, she had lost what little happiness shehad ever possessed. He determined to discuss her affairs with Fensden onthe first available opportunity, when doubtless the latter would be ableto suggest a way in which he might assist her. By the time he hadarrived at this reflection, he had reached the station, and the groomwas standing at the horse's head. Having placed the reins under thepatent clip, he descended from the cart and went on to the platform. Thestation-master saluted him respectfully, and informed him that the trainhad already been signalled. Indeed, the words had scarcely left thatfunctionary's lips before a whistle was heard in the cutting, and amoment later it came into view. As the train swept past him Godfreycaught a glimpse of the man he had come to meet, gathering together histravelling things, in a first-class carriage.
"How are you, my dear old fellow?" he cried, as he turned the handle ofthe door. "You don't know how glad I am to see you! I am afraid you havehad a cold journey. Let me take some of your things."
Victor graciously permitted the other to assist him with his luggage,and then he himself descended from the carriage. They shook hands andafterward strolled in the direction of the gate. Victor was attired in amagnificent travelling ulster, and a neat deer-stalker's hat. Anorange-coloured tie peeped from the opening under his beard, and hishands were as daintily gloved as a lady's. Altogether, as he walked downthe platform, he presented as artistic a figure as Detwich had seen fora very long time.
"What have you been doing since I saw you?" Godfrey inquired as theytook their places in the dog-cart.
"Repairing the ravages of time and Continental travel," Victor replied,somewhat ambiguously. Then he added politely: "I hope Miss Devereux iswell?"
"Very well, indeed," said Godfrey, "and most anxious to see you. She hasread your poems and has seen your portrait; all she requires now is tobe introduced to the original."
"In that case I fear she will be disappointed," said Victor, with whatwas almost a sneer in his voice. "Since she is with you, I presume yourmother and sister are at the Hall. Do they look forward to the idea ofturning out?"
"They are a pair of foolish women who would do anything, or give upanything in order to make me happy," the other replied. "As a matter offact, I don't know that they altogether mind. They both prefer London,and when they return from their travels, I believe it is their intentionto take a flat and settle down somewhere in the neighbourhood ofKensington."
"While you are assimilating the bucolic virtues. Well, it's a prettypicture, and if I had fifteen thousand a year and a fine estate I mightbe tempted to do the same. As I haven't the money or the property Iremain what I am."
"And that is?"
"A trifler," Victor replied, with unusual bitterness. "One who mighthave done and who did not--who dropped the substance in an attempt tograsp the shadow."
"Nonsense," said Godfrey, who did not like to hear his friend abusehimself in this fashion. "If you are going to talk like that I shallhave to prescribe a long dose of country air."
Then, in an attempt to change the other's thoughts, he talked of theirtravels together, and of the curious characters they had met, whichlasted until they had passed through the lodge gates and were well ontheir way across the park. Even in the sombreness of winter the placelooked very beautiful, and Victor expressed himself delighted with it.
"I had no idea it was so fine," he said, as they swept round the driveand came into view of the house. "I can very well understand your likingfor a country life when you possess an estate like this. Your uncle didyou a kind action when he made you his heir."
"Nobody is more sensible of that fact than I am," Godfrey replied. "Ionly wish I could let the old fellow know how grateful I am. I oftenthink that during his lifetime he was disappointed in me because I tookto painting instead of becoming a country gentleman. I wonder what hewould say if he could see me now? I don't know what you may think, butto my mind there are times when one likes to imagine that the dead arenear us."
Victor gave a violent start, followed by a shiver.
"Good Heavens! What an idea!" he cried. Then, dropping back into his oldcynical tone, he continued: "I am afraid that if your idea were possibleour human affairs would become somewhat complicated. For my own part Iam quite content that the matter should stand as it is."
As he finished speaking they drew up before the steps and the two mendescended from the cart. The ladies were waiting in the hall to receivethem.
"How do you do, Mr. Fensden?" said Mrs. Henderson, coming forward tomeet him. "It is a long time since we have met, and you have been agreat traveller in the meantime."
"Thanks to your son," said Victor as he took her hand. "How do you do,Miss Kitty? Events advance too quickly with all of us, but they seem tohave taken giant strides with you."
"You mean that when last we met I was still on the other side of thatline which is only crossed by a girl when she performs the mysteriousoperation called 'putting her hair up,'" answered that sharp-tonguedyoung lady.
"Now, Victor," said Godfrey, when Kitty had been annihilated, "let mehave the pleasure of introducing you to Miss Devereux."
The couple bowed to each other, and Victor offered her hiscongratulations.
"And now you must come and have your tea," said Mrs. Henderson,hospitably. "You must need it, I am sure, after your long journey."
"Or perhaps you would prefer something more substantial," put inGodfrey. "I noticed that you shivered as we came up the drive."
"I really think I should," said Victor. "After the warmth of the Eastour English winters are not to be trifled with."
Godfrey led the way to the dining-room and placed the spirit-standbefore his friend.
"I don't think I have ever been so cold in my life before," said Victor,as he poured out an amount of brandy for himself that made Godfrey openhis eyes in astonishment, for he had always looked upon the other as anexceedingly temperate man.
"Now, tell me, would you prefer to see your room first?" Godfreyinquired, when the other had tossed off his refreshment, "or shall wejoin the ladies?"
"Perhaps I had better make myself presentable first," Victor answered,glancing complacently at himself in the mirror above the chimney-piece.
Godfrey accordingly led the way to the room which had been set apart forhis friend's use, and to which the latter's luggage had been conveyed.It was a pleasant apartment, looking out on what was called the Ladies'Garden, and thence across the park to a high and wooded hill. Victorwent to the window and studied the prospect.
"You have a charming home," he said, with what was almost a sigh; "youare about to marry a beautiful girl; you have wealth, success, andeverything else that can make life worth living, Godfrey. You should bea happy man."
"I am happy," Godfrey replied, "and, please God, I'll do my best to makeothers so. And that reminds me, Victor, I want to have a talk with you.Do you know that on Thursday night I met Teresina in the Strand?"
Victor had turned from the window, and was brushing his hair at thetime. As he heard what Godfrey said, the brush fell from his hand uponthe floor. As he picked it up and continued his toilet, he said insurprise:
"Teresina in London? Surely you must have been mistaken. I thought shewas still in Naples?"
"She is in London," Godfrey repeated. "I could not have been mistaken,for I spoke to her."
"At what time did you see her?"
"Just about midnight," his friend replied.
"Are you aware that the signora is dead and that Teresina is married?"
"How should I be likely to?" said Victor. "You know that I have not seenher since I bade her good-bye i
n your studio before we went abroad. Andso the pretty model is married? Well, I suppose the proper thing to sayis that one hopes that she will be happy."
"But she is not happy, far from it. Her husband as well as her mother isdead."
"I believe there are some wives who would consider that fact to be notaltogether a matter for sorrow. But what makes you think that Teresinais unhappy?"
"Because she told me so, though she would not tell me anything further.The poor girl seemed in terrible distress."
"And you gave her money, I suppose?" said Victor. "That is usually theway one soothes trouble of her kind. I hope she was grateful."
"I wish to goodness you wouldn't be so cynical," said Godfrey, almostlosing his temper. "I wanted to help her, but she would not let me.Every time I offered my assistance she implored me to leave her. Shebroke down altogether when we reached her house."
"Then you took her home?" said the other. "Do you think that was wise?"
"Why should I not have done so?"
"Well, you see," said Victor, putting his brushes back into their case,"circumstances have somewhat changed with you. Miss Devereux might notaltogether approve."
"Miss Devereux is too good and kind a girl to object to my doing what Icould to comfort an old friend in trouble."
"But when that old friend in trouble happens to be an extremelybeautiful girl the situation becomes slightly changed. However, don'tthink that I am endeavouring to interfere. And now shall we godownstairs?"
"But, confound it, Victor, you don't mean to say that you take no moreinterest in Teresina's fate than this? I thought you liked her as muchas I did."
"_Mon cher ami_," said Victor, rearranging his tie before the glass,"that is scarcely fair, either to yourself or to me. Have you forgottena little discussion we had together, and which eventually resulted inour leaving England for a time? Had you not taken such an interest inTeresina then, I doubt very much whether I should have seen Cairo orJerusalem, or a lot of other places. But still, my dear fellow, if thereis anything I can do to help your old model you may be sure I shall beonly too glad to do it."
"I knew you would," said Godfrey, placing his hand affectionately on theother's shoulder. "We must talk it over some time and see what can bedone. It will never do to let her go on as she is now."
"You have no idea, I suppose, of the origin of the trouble?"
"Not the least. She would tell me nothing. She tried to make me believethat she had plenty of work, and that she did not stand in need of anyassistance. I knew better, however."
"And where is she living?"
"In Burford Street, off the Tottenham Court Road. It is a miserableplace, mainly occupied by foreigners. The house is on the right-handside."
"Very well," said Victor. "When I go back to town I will look her up. Itwill be hard if we can't arrange something."
Then they descended the stairs together and entered the drawing-room.
"My dear Godfrey, are you aware that you will have one wife in ahundred?" said Kitty, pointing to a table on which some twenty packagesof all sizes, shapes, and descriptions were arranged.
"How so?" said Godfrey. "What new virtue have you discovered in her?"
"I have found that she can subordinate curiosity to a sense of duty,"said the young lady. "These presents arrived for you just after you leftfor the station, and yet she would not open them herself or allow me todo so until you returned. I have been consumed with a mad desire toexplore them, particularly that foreign-looking box at the end."
"Well, your curiosity shall very soon be satisfied," he said. "But wemust begin with the most important-looking packages."
"Let us pray that there are no more Apostle spoons, serviette-rings, orsilver sweet-dishes," said Molly. "We have already some two dozen ofeach."
Package after package was opened in its turn and the contents displayed.As they were for the most part presents to the bridegroom individually,they were mainly of a nature suited to his tastes: hunting flasks,silver sandwich cases, cigar and cigarette holders, and articles of asimilar description. At last they came to the curious-looking box towhich Kitty had referred. It was oblong in shape, and bore the name of aVienna firm stamped on the end. It was tied with cord, and the label wasaddressed in an uneducated handwriting to "Mr. Godfrey Henderson,Detwich Hall, Detwich, Midlandshire."
In his own mind he had no doubt that it emanated from Teresina, who, ashe was aware, had been informed as to his approaching marriage. Havinguntied the cord, he prized the lid, which was nailed down, with a daggerpaper-knife, which he took from a table close at hand. An unpleasantodour immediately permeated the room. A folded sheet of newspapercovered the contents, whatever they were, and this Godfrey removed,only to spring back with a cry of horror. In the box, _the fingerstightly interlaced, were two tiny hands_, which had been severed fromthe body, to which they had once belonged, at the wrist.