Читать книгу The House of Mammon - Fred M. White - Страница 4

II. — THE ONLY MAN.

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The ivory pallor of Mrs. Sairson's face deepened, and she raised her hand to her heart as if conscious of some physical pain there. The beauty of the place, the wide sweep of the lawns, the deer in the park, all seemed to mock her. In a sense Marlton Grange was a prison. There were times when its very grandeur oppressed and saddened her. Hitherto she could console herself that the prison was her own. Escape might be impossible; but, on the other hand, it was not possible for others to get in. And here was the intruder she had always dreaded. He came in desirable shape—in the form that all mothers who love their girls pray for—yet he filled Mrs. Sairson's soul with dread. She marked the look of pleasure in Lugard's face, the keen delight and admiration of his eyes. She saw the flush on Nest's face, the smiling curves of her lips. She began to see with a startling clearness the hidden meaning of certain incidents when they had met this young man at Berne some time ago. Like all true women, she scented the delicate flavor of romance, but the mere suggestion of it filled her heart with terror.

"Mammy, aren't you going to say something more to Mr. Lugard?" Nest asked.

A graceful phrase or two came from Mrs. Sairson's lips. It was pleasant to meet Mr. Lugard again. They had been very agreeable days at Berne. Nest often spoke of them.

Lugard smiled as he wondered whether Nest had remembered everything—had mentioned everything. He was under the impression that Mrs. Sairson had deliberately spirited her girls away. He had not connected Mr. John Sairson with his charming acquaintance at Berne; he had dismissed the chance with a smile. The name was the same, of course, but John Sairson did not suggest the proud father of a lovely daughter. He suggested nothing but money.

"Positively I had no idea I was to have this delightful surprise," Lugard said. "Quite by chance I saw that the Dower House was to let. It occurred to me as a good idea to take it. Though this used to be the family seat, I have never seen it before. I saw that a certain Mr. Sairson was the owner, and I went to see him. That is why I am here."

"Your idea is to settle in the neighborhood?" Mrs. Sairson asked.

"I think so, dear lady. I want an old house with some shooting and fishing. As a Lugard on my mother's side I am pretty sure of a welcome here. I'm not a millionaire, but I daresay I could manage to be comfortable at the Dower House."

Mrs. Sairson hoped so; indeed she could say nothing less. She could like this young man with the frank and handsome face in ordinary circumstances. But there could be no ordinary circumstances here; there could be nothing but trouble and humiliation and despair. And the worst of it was that nothing could be done. .. Nest was full of pleased associations; she chatted gaily. There were so many things to admire about the house, and Lugard admired them frankly. The view from the big west window of the drawing-room attracted him greatly.

Angela Sairson watched the pair from under the fringe of her long lashes. Her beauty was purer than that of her sister, the white, subdued sadness of her face suited the perfect profile. She had all the softness and sweetness of the nun—there was a suggestion that the world was hard for her—and her pose one of resignation. It was such a lovely face, too—a face that poets and painters would have raved over. A tender, wistful smile crossed her face as she watched Nest and her companion in the window with the sunshine on them.

"Poor mother!" she murmured. "Poor mother! Did you think you could stop it."

"And poor, poor little Nest! We would have both died to save her if we could."

"God knows, we would," Mrs. Sairson sighed. "But, perhaps, after all, we are anticipating——"

"No, we are not, mother. I saw it coming at Berne. That is why I was anxious to get away before it was too late. We might have saved Nest if Fate had not played this trick upon us. Don't interfere, mother; don't blame yourself for the inevitable."

Mrs. Sairson brushed the tears from her eyes. It seemed to her that she was drifting hopelessly. Yet it was good to hear the brightness of Nest's laughter. She was but a child, and perhaps Providence would provide a way out of the situation which threatened to become tragic. As the gong was sounded in the hall, the sun shone brightly out of doors. Cecil Lugard came forward and offered his arm with an old-fashioned grace and chivalry.

"What a lovely place this is!" he exclaimed, as he unfolded his napkin. "My mother used to tell me what a delightful room this was. The carvings exceed my expectations. I am not surprised my poor old uncle was fond of it. It was very hard times to be cheated out of the place by a scoundrel of a money-lender."

"I—I don't quite follow you," Mrs. Sairson gasped.

"Oh, that was before your time, of course," Lugard went on. "I am talking of the period before that rascal disposed of the property to Mr. Sairson. It had nothing to do with your husband, who doubtless paid a fair price for the estate. But that man, John Blaydon, the money-lender, is one of the most loathsome reptiles that was ever allowed to live. I have heard things about him that make my blood boil. Such a shameless villain, too. Well, my dear lady, he got hold of my uncle and fleeced him of everything. My lawyer says that if my uncle had not lost his nerve he could have prosecuted that scamp for conspiracy and saved everything. The unhappy man committed suicide instead—murdered, really, by John Blaydon. But I have not done with that reptile yet."

Mrs. Sairson sat white and still, while Angela listened with her eyes cast down. Only Nest looked frankly and admiringly into the face of the speaker. There was something in his set face and the determination of his square jaw that moved her to admiration.

"I like to hear a man talk like that," she cried. "You have my good wishes for your success, Mr. Lugard. If there is one creature on earth more detestable than another it is a money-lender. I could be friendly with a released convict, but with one of these wretches, never! I hope you will punish the scoundrel as he deserves."

"Oh, I am going to," Lugard said grimly. "A little time ago certain papers and documents relating to my uncle's affairs reached me anonymously. Evidently they had fallen into the hands of somebody who had cause to detest Blaydon. Another link or two and the chain will be complete. I will not rest till Blaydon stands in the dock."

Angela glanced up from her dessert plate, her black eyes gleaming against the pallor of her face.

"Pardon, me," she said, "but I'm afraid my mother is not feeling well."

Lugard paused and stammered. He blamed himself for an unobserving brute. Possibly his chatter had been too much.

Mrs. Sairson forced a smile to her lips. "I feel the heat," she murmured, "though I love the sun. It was foolish of me to sit out so long this morning. A few minutes' rest in the drawing-room will put me right. But you are not to leave the table, any of you. I shall be distressed if you worry over me."

All the same Angela rose and followed her mother in her silent, sympathetic way.

"I'm very sorry," Lugard said. "What a beautiful face your sister has—and how sad! He dark eyes positively haunt me. I don't want to be impertinent, but——"

"Angela had a disappointment," Nest explained; "an unfortunate misunderstanding. I was only 17 at the time, but I remember it perfectly. Oh, no, you must not think that Angela kept the reason to herself. She won't hear a word against the man, nor will mother. She says the affair could have had no other ending. In a sense my mother declares that she was chiefly to blame. I was very sorry, for I liked Jack Barr."

"What! Jack Barr, of the Northern Rifles?" Lugard exclaimed. "You don't mean to say——"

"Indeed I do, Mr. Lugard. Do you know him?"

"Know him! Why, he was my greatest friend at one time. Three years ago he chucked up everything to go out West. All I could get out of him was that he had had a serious trouble. But that he ever did anything mean or dishonorable, I refuse to believe."

"Of that I am certain," Nest rejoined. "I am not quite sure whether I ought to have told you this. You won't mention it to Angela, will you? No doubt you think it a pity to waste this glorious afternoon. There is a caretaker at the Dower House who will show us everything, and I hope you will take the place. We have no callers and seek none. My mother does not care for society. But it is very dull for me."

Lugard smiled down at the pretty face lifted to him. He was selfishly glad to hear this. Those deep violet eyes had never ceased to haunt him; in his day-dreams he had seen that wild-rose coloring and that hair with the threads of sunshine in it. If he were only allowed to have his way Nest should not be dull any more. The stars in their courses were fighting on her side.

"I shall be only too delighted, if I can," he said. "It is awfully good of you to feel all this interest in me. I had no idea I was going to have so happy a time. The mere pleasure of seeing you again.. .. . Do you remember that evening on the hill near Berne when we lost our way?"

Nest's eyes deepened—Lugard could never make out what their exact hue was—and a soft flush crept over her face. She did not like to confess how well she remembered.

"It was a very, very pleasant time," she admitted.

"And many more to come, I hope?" Lugard smiled. "Are you ready for our expedition?"

It was tea-time before they returned, Nest happy and gay, and full of the merriest spirits.

The adventure had been a success in every way, the house charming, and needing little in the way of repair. So far as Lugard was concerned, the tenancy was as good as settled. Nest dashed into her mother's room with the good news. They were to have a really congenial neighbor at last.

"Come over here and kiss me," Mrs. Sairson said. "My child, how happy you look! I only pray you will not allow yourself to——"

"Let me whisper to you," Nest said, with her head buried in her mother's hair. "Hold me tight and think the best of me, because there never has been and there never will be another man who—who——Now, isn't that a shameless confession for a girl to make?"

With a broken laugh Nest hurried from the room. Mrs. Sairson's lips quivered piteously.

"I can do no more," she murmured. "God's will must be done."

The House of Mammon

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