Chapter XXIII: Twilight Talks

AUNT PATTY was as much astonished as I was to see Professor Faulkner calmly walking in the garden as if he had never been away. But before she had time to express her amazement Paulina caught sight of us and shouted gaily:

"Ah, Mrs. Lucas, here is a surprise for you! The truant professor has turned up at last!"

As she and her companion came smilingly to meet us, Paulina looked little prepared to meet misfortune. She was in the brightest mood, and began at once to rally her father on arriving before he was expected and disappointing Miss Cottrell, who had driven into Chelmsford to meet the train by which he usually returned. But I was only vaguely conscious of what Pollie was saying and had no thought at that moment for Mr. Dicks's painful position. The sight of Alan Faulkner threw me into a state of nervous tremor which made me feel positively ill. My heart throbbed painfully, my limbs trembled beneath me, and I felt an absurd longing to run away and hide somewhere.

"You will forgive me for presenting myself in this unexpected fashion?" Alan Faulkner was saying as he shook hands with my aunt. "I found myself free to travel south sooner than I had hoped, and, though I did write, my letter must have missed the post; at any rate, I have arrived before it."

"It is doubtless lying in the Chelmsford post-office," said Aunt Patty; "no one has been there to get letters this afternoon; but it does not matter in the least, Mr. Faulkner—I am only too glad to see you. Your room is quite ready for you, is it not, Nan?"

"Oh, yes," I responded in a high, clear voice, that surprised myself. "'Aye ready' is our motto at 'Gay Bowers.' How are you, Mr. Faulkner?"

I purposely made my greeting as cool and careless as possible; but he shook hands with me very heartily, and there was a look in his eyes that arrested mine and held them fascinated for a long moment. That look assured me that all his old friendliness had revived, and I read more in it—something that I could not well define. My gaze dropped beneath his and I turned quickly away; but my heaviness of heart was gone.

"You look very tired, poppa," I heard Paulina say. "That wretched business has given you a headache, I know. Why would you go to town to-day? I don't believe your going made a bit of difference to the business after all."

"You are right, Pollie," her father replied in a melancholy tone; "it certainly did not."

"Ah! I knew it!" said Paulina triumphantly. "I told you so, if you remember, but you would not listen to me."

"However mistaken your father has been, my dear, you must not scold him now," interposed Aunt Patty, "he is too tired. The City of London is not a desirable place on a broiling summer day. Let him rest in peace till he has had his dinner—it should be ready in less than half-an-hour. You will be glad of it, too, Mr. Faulkner."

"Oh, as for that," he replied, "I came up from Scotland by the night train, and so had time for a comfortable luncheon ere I left town. Moreover, Miss Dicks has refreshed me since my arrival with a cup of tea, of which I was very glad after walking from the station."

I looked at Paulina. Her eyes were smiling with mischief as she glanced at me.

"By the by," continued Alan Faulkner, turning to Mr. Dicks, "you must have come by the same train as I. Where did you get to that I saw nothing of you?"

Mr. Dicks's colour rose as he answered with some confusion that he "guessed" he was in the back of the train, and he had loitered in the fields on the way home. The next moment a diversion was created by the arrival of the wagonette, with Miss Cottrell sitting within, forlorn and agitated. Her surprise and excitement when she perceived that her betrothed had arrived before her was ludicrous. Descending hastily from the vehicle, she overwhelmed him with more questions than he could possibly answer.

I saw Alan Faulkner's eyes gleam with amusement as he watched them, and I felt sure that Paulina had told him of the relationship into which these two had entered. Poor Miss Cottrell! How would she bear the disappointment which fate had in store for her? I tried to feel as sorry for her as I should, but my heart was dancing with joy as I ran upstairs. What selfish wretches we are! How little we feel the sorrows of others when our own happiness seems secure!

"Nan," cried Paulina, thrusting her head just inside my door and looking the incarnation of mischief, "I had such a nice talk with the Professor before you came home. Only think of my having to entertain him for more than an hour! But we neither of us found the time long, I can assure you."

I laughed and said I thought it a pity we had not stayed away a little longer. I knew Paulina too well by this time for her attempt at teasing me to have the least effect. I tried to sober myself by thinking of the bad news Paulina must soon learn and how hard it would be for her to face poverty; but I could not feel sad as I arranged my hair in the most becoming way I knew and put on my prettiest blouse. Verily girls are callous mortals.

No one watching the party that gathered round the table a little later could have suspected that there was trouble in the air. Mr. Dicks was certainly more quiet than usual, but his daughter and his fiancé talked so much that his silence was not remarked. Miss Cottrell had recovered from her perturbation, and she made us laugh by a vivid and droll description of her various misgivings and emotions when she discovered that the train had not brought Josiah Dicks.

Alan Faulkner did not say a great deal, but all that he said was worth hearing, and he evinced such genuine satisfaction at being amongst us once more—"at home," as he once expressed it to Aunt Patty's great delight—that we all felt complimented.

When we rose from the table we all with one consent strolled into the garden. It was not yet dusk, but the days were already shortening and there was not sufficient light to make it worth while to begin a game. Mr. Dicks, with his head thrust back and his hands in the pockets of his coat, stalked off gloomily alone towards the apple trees. Miss Cottrell, evidently surprised that she had received no invitation to join him, stood hesitating on the edge of the lawn. After glancing with a timid air, first to the right and then to the left, to see if any one were observing her, she presently strolled after him.

"I am going for a walk," said Paulina, opening the side gate which led into the meadow across which lay the field path to Greentree Park. "Come, Nan. Oh, do you want to come too, Professor Faulkner?"

"If I may be permitted!" he said.

"Oh, well, we'll try to put up with you," was her rejoinder.

And we walked slowly along the narrow path beside the hedge. The grass was long and damp and the path was barely wide enough for two, so Mr. Faulkner had to walk behind us. But we only proceeded thus to the end of the field, for there Paulina suddenly remembered that she had forgotten something that she must say to Mrs. Lucas without more delay.

"It won't take me long to run back," she said; "if you two walk on slowly, I dare say I shall overtake you by and by."

I proposed that we should turn back too; but it appeared that Mr. Faulkner wanted to take a look into the park. He had not seen it since the garden party was in contemplation, he said; and the reference brought the blood into my cheeks.

So we strolled on along the quiet path, and he began telling me about his future prospects. He had been summoned to Edinburgh to fill the place of a friend, a college professor who was laid aside by illness. He had remained there till the term ended. Meanwhile the former professor had resigned his chair, finding that his health would not permit him to continue to perform its duties, and Alan Faulkner had learned on good authority that the post would probably be offered to himself.

"Will you take it?" I asked.

"I think so—indeed, I should be thankful to accept it," he said. "The work is just what I love. It would be a grand opportunity for me. And in Edinburgh, too! Ah, Miss Nan, you do not know what the very name of Edinburgh means to a Scotsman."

"I can imagine that it is very dear," I said, conscious as I spoke of a curious, heartsick sensation of being left out in the cold. He had seemed so happy with us at "Gay Bowers." Had he all the while been yearning for Scotland?

"You will soon be leaving us then, I suppose?" was my next remark.

"Not until the autumn," he said. "You may be sure I shall be in no hurry to quit 'Gay Bowers.' I have been so happy there. It has been more of a home to me than any place since I lost my mother."

"But you like Edinburgh better?"

He laughed as he replied:

"Indeed, I do not. Edinburgh is dear to me for its beauty and its associations; but I never had a home there. I studied there for a while before I went to Cambridge."

After that we walked on for some moments in silence. There were so many things I had wanted to say to Alan Faulkner, yet, now I had the opportunity, I felt tongue-tied. I stole a glance at him, and he looked so grave that I began to wonder what he could be thinking about. Then I conceived the idea that I was boring him, and almost wished that Paulina would come back. But presently, he startled me by saying:

"Miss Nan, I have a confession to make, and I want to ask your forgiveness."

"My forgiveness?" I repeated.

"Yes, for I wronged you grievously in my thoughts that day when I presumed to warn you, forsooth, against the fascinations of Ralph Marshman."

"Ah, yes, you did!" I cried eagerly. "It hurt me not a little that you should think he was anything to me."

"I can't forgive myself for being so foolish," he said. "Now that Miss Dicks has enlightened me a little, I see what a stupid blunderer I was. No wonder you were angry with me."

"Oh, Paulina!" I said inwardly. "So this is the result of your long and interesting talk!"

Aloud I said, "It was unreasonable of me to be angry. No doubt it was easy for you to make such a mistake."

"Well, there is some excuse for me," he said, "for when I overtook Marshman that night, after he scrambled over the wall in front of us, and demanded an explanation of his extraordinary conduct, he confessed to me jestingly that he was smitten with Mrs. Lucas's pretty niece, and had committed the trespass with the hope of getting a private talk with her."

"How could he say that? Agneta is not Aunt Patty's niece," I exclaimed, forgetting how much I was revealing.

"Just so," he said with a smile. "Now you see how I was misled; and when you reproached me so indignantly with misjudging another, I never doubted that he had completely beguiled you."

"Oh, but you could not have thought that I blamed you for misjudging him," I protested. "Of course, I was indignant at your deeming me likely to be attracted by such a man."

"But I did think that," he said. "I confess to the most crass stupidity, and I humbly beg your forgiveness. It may soften your just resentment to know that I have not gone unpunished. I have suffered intensely from that mistake. It threw a shadow over all my life."

"And when you saw me on the platform at Liverpool Street on that afternoon when I ought to have been at the garden party—what did you think then?" I demanded. "Some dreadful thing, of course."

"Don't ask me! I imagined that you had come to meet Marshman. I had seen him there—I was watching him, indeed. To tell you the truth, I went up to town that day on purpose to get information concerning him, for I meant to save you from deception if it were possible."

"How could you imagine such things!" I cried. "Oh, I don't think I can forgive you."

Then we both laughed; but the next moment he was holding both my hands in his and speaking with great seriousness. I cannot write what he said, though the words are for ever engraved on my heart. They were to the effect that he had suffered so much in thinking me foolish and deluded, because I had become so dear to him, and he had set me in his heart far above every other woman he had ever known.

The memory of that evening will ever be sacred to me. I cannot dwell upon it here. I will only say that when at last we walked back to "Gay Bowers" we were two of the happiest people upon earth. The mists of doubt that had gathered between us were for ever gone, and in their place had come the most perfect understanding. I had promised Alan Faulkner that some day, if my parents gave their consent, I would be his wife.

For the present we guarded the secret of our happiness; but I think Paulina guessed what had come about. She fairly hugged me when we said "good-night," and her manner was so gleeful that it was plain she knew nothing yet of the cloud that overhung her future.

Alone in my room, I did not feel in the least inclined to sleep. Aunt Patty had hurried us upstairs under the impression that every one was very tired. I stepped into my favourite nook on the top of the porch, and, sitting down, gave myself up to the delight of recalling all that had passed between me and Alan. It was pleasant to sit there, for the air was deliciously cool, and sweet with the perfume of flowers. Below, the garden lay fair in the moonlight. At some distance, moving to and fro on the path that ran beneath the boundary wall, were two figures which I knew to be those of Alan and Colonel Hyde, enjoying a smoke before they retired to rest. All was quiet about me when, presently, I was aware of voices coming from the shelter of the porch, above which I sat.

"So, Kate," said the high, nasal accents of Josiah Dicks, "you don't mean to give me up because I've lost my money? I fear you're deciding too hastily, my dear. You must take time to consider what it means. It's not easy being poor."

"I know it will be hard for you and Paulina; but I'm not afraid for myself, and I need no time to make up my mind," said the voice of Miss Cottrell. "I've got enough to live on, and it's all invested on good security. It will be a tight fit for three, but we'll make it do somehow till better times come."

"No, no, Kate," protested Mr. Dicks, "I really can't consent to that. What's yours is your own. I ain't going to sponge on you, if I know it. I meant to give you a happy, comfortable life by making you my wife. I wouldn't have minded spending any money on you; but now I can't give you the kind of home you'd like, and you had best let me go. Josiah Dicks is no catch for any woman now."

"That's how you look at it, but I think differently, and I mean to hold you to your promise to marry me," replied Miss Cottrell. "Now, listen to me, Josiah. I'll own that the thought of your wealth was agreeable to me. I have always made too much of money and position. I liked the idea of having a smart house and smart clothes, and driving in a smart buggy, and all the rest of the things you described; but I did not agree to be your wife just for that. I have been a lonely woman for some years now, and I liked the idea of having a good man for my husband. I wanted some one to love and care for, and I meant to be a good wife to you, and as much of a mother to Paulina as she would let me be. It is a small thing to mention, but I love you, Josiah. I am yours, and all I have is yours, if only you will take it."

"Kate, Kate, you must not talk like that!" exclaimed Mr. Dicks in tones that seemed tremulous with emotion. "You make me ashamed of myself, you do indeed. The truth is, I don't deserve to be loved like that. I'm not a good man. There's been ugly bits in my history I would not choose for you to know. I am puzzled what you can see to care for in me. I'll allow I thought 'twas my money drew you. Well, if anything can make a man good it is to be loved by such a woman as you, and, if you will stick to me, I'll try my hardest to make it worth your while. Josiah Dicks is ready to begin the world again, and, please God, he'll win his way up yet!"

But I heard no more. I sprang from my seat and hastened inside my room, ashamed of myself for having even for so short a time played the part of an eavesdropper. Miss Cottrell's natural eloquence was too enthralling, and my heart at that hour was quick to sympathise with the feeling that moved her. But I should never have believed it of her! How easy it Is to misjudge others! Miss Cottrell's faults were on the surface; beneath were sterling qualities of heart and mind. I found myself wondering whether it was not worth while for Josiah Dicks to lose his wealth in order to discover the treasure he possessed in this woman's love.