CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
A BREAK-UP AT BASSINGHAM.
We have hinted that Wagram's departure on his self-imposed quest hadtaken place quite quietly; nevertheless, after it he was very greatlymissed, by none more so, perhaps, than the Haldanes. To Haldane,indeed, he had confided some inkling of his strange mission--not thewhole of it--but had bound him to secrecy: for the benefit of theneighbourhood at large, certain family and business matters hadnecessitated the undertaking, and with this the neighbourhood mustperforce rest content. Then, as time wore on, and nearly each few andfar between letter, instead of announcing the wanderer's early return,only notified a fresh start farther afield and in a contrary direction,Haldane grew puzzled.
"Confound the fellow! Why the deuce can't he come back instead ofwasting time and energy over some wild-goose chase?" he would say onsuch occasions. "It isn't that he's fond of travel, and all that sortof thing. I believe at bottom he hates it."
"I'm sure he does, father," chimed in Yvonne. "Every day away fromHilversea is a day not lived, according to him. And the place looks sodismal all shut up. I vote we go away for a change ourselves."
"Wrong time, Sunbeam. The weather's exceptionally beastly abroad, fromwhat the papers say. And the Continent in vile weather is--well, unfitfor publication."
"I'd have liked to take Delia Calmour with us," went on the girl."She's so companionable and intelligent, and takes such interest ineverything; never talks the silly idiotic bosh most girls do. She'dhave enjoyed it so much, too."
"Poor girl!" said Haldane. "It's a thousand pities she's soconfoundedly handicapped. She'll never get a show now on the strengthof those awful relatives. Yes; it's a thousand pities."
In saying that the absent Squire of Hilversea was missed by none morethan by the Haldanes we should have recorded an exception, and it wasnamed Delia Calmour. To her it seemed that the light of day had goneout. And yet, why? It had been seldom enough she had seen him of latebefore his departure; and even on such occasions, a little ordinaryconversation in his quiet genial way. That was all. And yet--and yet--the girl would cheerfully have yielded up life itself to have heard oncemore the sound of his voice in just one of those ordinary conversations.To such a pass had things come.
But she kept her own counsel heroically. Never by word or look did shebetray herself. Even Clytie was puzzled. She had read through her upto a certain point, but had failed to credit her sister with thesecretiveness and self-control to the highest point of which the latterhad nearly attained. So she was puzzled.
To her dying day Delia would never forget the announcement of thatdeparture. It had been made to her one Sunday when she had cycled overto Hilversea by Wagram himself, in his pleasant easy manner, and she hadreceived it with a frank natural regret, that came from her well. Notall at once did she realise that she had received a blow between theeyes.
"Be missed?" he had repeated, echoing her words. "Well, I am selfishenough to hope I shall be missed a little. One thing is certain: Isha'n't stop away any longer than I can help. I'm not going for fun,anyhow."
Then he had invited her in for lunch. The Haldanes were there, andFather Gayle, and on this occasion four or five other people; in fact,it was a sort of "send-off" affair, for he was to start early on thefollowing morning.
"I shan't stay away any longer than I can help," had been the words,uttered in an easy natural way. Yet he who uttered them knew that inthe event of his quest proving successful he would stay away--for ever.But there he sat, chatting with his guests easily, smilingly, as thoughhis very heart were not half broken over the thought of what was aboutto pass away from him and his for ever. And the girl? She too waschatting, outwardly light-hearted, with her immediate neighbours, orjoining in the general conversation, and the while she, too, in herinnermost heart was thinking what an awful blank this man's departurewould leave in her life; in it, moreover, as long as it should last.Here was an instance of the extraordinary freaks which may run throughlife's tragedies. Who would have thought of the ghastly canker whichlay behind Wagram's easy gaiety? Who would have guessed at the yearningache which underlay Delia Calmour's ready conversational flow?
"Who is that Miss Calmour?" one of the guests had remarked to Yvonneafter they had left the table. "Such a pretty girl, and talks so welland brightly. So nice-mannered and refined. Does she belong to thisneighbourhood?"
And Yvonne had replied evasively, though not seeming to do so, that shedid, and that she was all the other had said; that the dear old Squirehad taken to her wonderfully shortly before his death, and that sheherself had grown very fond of her. Then she let drop that Delia was arecent convert, which at once prepossessed the inquirer in her favour,as she intended it should.
The acquaintance of the two girls had grown into friendship, thenintimacy, the difference between their ages and bringing upnotwithstanding. It had still further brought out all that was good inDelia; and what was good in the eldest daughter of disreputable,tippling old Calmour was, strange to say, very good indeed; and, as isnot infrequently the case, a certain amount of knowledge of the seamierside of life rendered her all the more safe and useful a companion tothe younger girl, every day of whose existence had been spent insunshine. She had the tact not to push her standpoint unduly--indeed,more than once Yvonne wanted to half quarrel with her because she wouldhardly ever come over to see them without a distinct invitation. Butwhen she did come she always entered so thoroughly into the child'sstudies and pursuits--painting or music, or whatever it might be,especially the latter, and the organ in the chapel at Hilverseaunderwent a good deal of work in those days, for the girls would delightto cycle over, and enjoy a long quiet practice all to themselves.Frequently Haldane would make the third of the party, for he had a finevoice, and was fond of music.
Then Wagram had gone, announcing his departure suddenly; and the onlymitigating gleam of sunshine which flashed into Delia's life was onoccasions when she was over at the Haldanes and they talked about him.This they did pretty frequently, and the burden of their remarks oughtto have rendered the absent man uncomfortably conceited could he haveheard them.
The two boys, too, when home for the holidays, for Gerard always spenthis at Haldane's now his home was shut up, took to her wonderfully. Shewould enter into all their interests and school experiences as thoughshe were an elder sister, and was full of life and fun when and whereverthey were concerned.
"That Miss Calmour _is_ a jolly girl, Yvonne," Gerard would pronounce."No humbug or bosh about her. No; and she never lectures us either, assome people do. I say, get her here a lot before we go back; she's noend fun."
And Reggie would duly second the proposal. Delia had, in fact, won boththeir hearts, but the one nearest to her own was Gerard. She would,too, subtly get him to talk about his father, but not too often.
"You know, Miss Calmour," he said on one occasion, "people don't halfunderstand the pater. They think him no end cold and stand-offish andall that, but I can tell you he isn't. Why, what d'you think? I wasasked once if I weren't awfully afraid of him. Fancy that! Did youever hear such bosh?"
"Bosh, indeed, Gerard."
"Rather. They seem to think that because he isn't always talking at thetop of his voice, and laying down the law, and all that sort of thing,that he's stiff and starched. Is he, though! I can tell you there's noone I can more jolly well get on with--and would rather be with--noteven among any of the fellows at school. I wish he'd come back, don'tyou?"
"Of course. I should think everybody who knew Mr Wagram would wishthat. You miss him a lot, then?"
"Rather. I'm having a ripping time here, of course--always do have--butI miss the dear old pater no end. I don't see any too much of him as itis." And the boy had turned away his head to hide the tears that hadwelled to his eyes.
It was all Delia could do to keep herself from following suit, but shedid, with an effort.
"Your father is one of the best and noblest men that ever lived
,Gerard," she answered. "It is a privilege to have known him."
There were times when she would take herself to task. What right hadshe to indulge in such feelings? Ought she not rather to crush them?Yet why? Their influence upon her was wholly for good, never for evil.Were her days dark--what would he have had her do? This she thought sheknew, and did it accordingly. He had known dark days himself, she hadgathered in course of some of their conversations, very dark days, yetlook at him now--a man ideally perfect in her adoring estimation. Yes;it was good for her this obsession--doubly good. If she had passedthrough the fire it was a refining one.
And, strange to say, the helping hand of the absent man seemed stretchedover her still. From several quarters came in orders for newspaper workakin to her illustrated venture at Hilversea Court, for articlesdescriptive of country life and scenery. Clytie, too, found herselfreceiving almost more typing orders than she could execute. The jointincome of Siege House was beginning to look up.
"By Jove, but Wagram is a good chap!" exclaimed Clytie one day withcharacteristic outspokenness. "This is all his doing, of course. Itell you what it is, Delia, if you don't bring off my scheme within areasonable time of his return I'm blest if I don't cut in myself."
"Why do you think it's his doing, Clytie?" had been the answer, ignoringthe last threat.
"It wasn't for nothing he came down here pumping us that day. Well, heis one in a good many thousands, as I shall tell him some day when he'smy bro--"
"Oh, shut up, Clytie. You know I hate that sort of chaff," interruptedDelia testily, for the remark jarred upon her hideously.
"Right oh!" cried the other, with a good-humoured laugh. "Keep yourhair on, dear. You can, too, for it's all your own, and a jolly goodlot of it too--that's where you dark ones score over us--though I don'tcome far behind. Let's shut up shop now and go for a bike ride. Weshall skim over these frost-bound roads; only we'll get jolly red noses.We can ride to Fulkston, and back through Hilversea--and adore theempty Court in the distance," she added slyly.
They made an attractive pair as they skimmed along, both sittinggracefully and well; the serene classical features of the one, and themore rich and sparkling brunette beauty of the other, together with thewell-formed, graceful figures of both, constituted a picture whichcaused more than one male head to come round in admiration as its ownerhalf halted.
"The Calmour girls! oh yes, pretty--devilish pretty--but--" constitutingthe comment, either uttered or thought. But the fourteen-mile ride out,and rather more back, added to the glow of health which mantled eachvery attractive face.
"There's the old Court, all shut up," commented Clytie as the pile roseclear against its background of now naked trees in the bright frostymoonlight. "What a sin to own a place like that and leave it shut up.I wouldn't."
"Wouldn't you! You'd vote it slow in a month, and start off for town,if I know anything of you," answered Delia, starting out of a brownstudy; for they were just passing the very point in the road whereWagram had surprised her while having her fortune told by the gipsy. Alittle farther, and they came to the scene of the gnu incident. Therewas the white gate gleaming in the moonlight; but the slumbrous wealthof foliage had given place to bare boughs, forming a frosted networkagainst the winter sky. And with that day there came back to heranother--a golden, glowing August day--that Sunday, the last long day ofinterrupted sunshine--when they had surprised the mysterious strangerand trespasser. Somehow from that day the rising of the cloud hadseemed to date, but of this she said nothing to Clytie.
On arrival home they were met by Bob, looking more than scared.
"About time you came," he grunted. "Don't know what's up with the oldman."
"Oh dear. The usual thing," said Delia, not scornful now, for she hadundergone something of a change in every way.
"No, it isn't," returned Bob quickly. "He's not `fresh' this time, buthe's devilish queer."
Old Calmour was lying on the sofa, breathing stertorously, and looking,as Bob had said, "devilish queer."
"Get on your bike, Bob, and go and fetch Thorpe," commanded Clytie thecapable, at the same time loosening her father's shirt collar.
"Can't; it's punctured."
"Take mine, then. Only--go."
"Good Lord, Clytie! But it's not serious, eh?"
"Go--d'you hear, you jackass," she repeated, with a stamp of the foot."And bring him back with you. None of his--`look round directly.'Bring him back with you."
The old man lay, staring up at them, his red and bloated face showing nosign of recognition; and on the prompt arrival of the doctor they werenot long in learning that it never would again, for in less than an hourold Calmour was dead. Stroke, greatly accelerated by intemperatehabits, was the medical verdict.
"What's to be done now, Delia?" remarked Clytie a day or two after thefuneral, while she and her sister were holding a serious council ofwar--or rather of ways and means. "What the very devil is to be done?We can't go on running Siege House at our rates of pay, and the poor olddad didn't leave a cent."
This was a fact. The sale of the furniture would not put them in fundsto any great extent. Old Calmour's pension had died with him, and therewere three boys to keep at school. Well, this, of course, was out ofthe question. Bob would have to live on the by no means princely salaryhe received from Pownall and Skreet, and very blue did the said Bob lookover the prospect. One thing was certain: the household would have tobe broken up.
The funeral, as may be imagined, had not been largely attended; in fact,except the dead man's family, hardly anybody had been present One ofthese exceptions had been Haldane, and the circumstances had appealed tothe girls with a very real sense of appreciation.
"I expect he turned up on your account, Delia," Clytie had remarked."But it was brickish of him, all the same. By the way, I supposethere's a sort of freemasonry among your people. If you hadn't joinedthem he wouldn't have shown up."
"I don't know about that; it may have been on account of ouracquaintance. But it was just the sort of thing Mr Haldane would do,"answered Delia.
Incidentally, we may remark that, whatever the motive, it was not thelast thing that Haldane did for this unfortunate family, now reduced toreal straits, after it had been decided to give up Bassingham and removeto the metropolis--that universal, and frequently illusory, refuge forthose who "have their way to make."