Читать книгу The House of Mammon - Fred M. White - Страница 6

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It was very pleasant to linger in the wide panelled hall by the tea-table watching Nest's slender hands as they played over the cups and silver. It was delightfully cool and pleasant after the heat of the afternoon, and the green of the trees was refreshing and grateful to the eye. Cecil Lugard lay back in his chair, smoking a cigarette and looking at Nest with the yellow sunshine on her hair. The girl's face was radiantly happy; there was a soft glow in her eyes. In the course of that afternoon ramble to the Dower House and back, Lugard had made up his mind. He had told himself more than once at Berne that if ever he was in a position to marry, this was the one girl for him. He had not spoken then for many reasons; Nest was rich, and his prospects were not encouraging. He had longed for some miracle to happen so that he might have the chance to——

And behold! the miracle had happened. He was in a position to speak now, and had met Nest directly after his good fortune had come to him. It all seemed like some favored dispensation of Providence. Surely there never was a romance like it before! He felt pretty sure of his ground, too; he knew that Nest cared for him; and Dower House would make a perfect nest for him. They sat talking confidentially for a long time. Mrs. Sairson had retired under plea of a headache, though heartache would have been a more fitting description, and it was Angela's usual custom to take the dog for a run after tea. By and bye Mrs. Sairson entered the hall with a telegram in her hand.

"I have just heard from my husband," she said. "It is very unfortunate, for he has been detained at the last minute by most important business and cannot be here to-night."

"Is that really so, mother?" Nest exclaimed. "He is not coming? How——"

She broke off abruptly, her face a delicate pink. It seemed to Cecil that he knew what was passing in her mind. If she meant anything, she was glad her father was not coming. She ought to be ashamed to admit it, but the fact remained all the same. There was no mistaking the sparkle of pleasure in her eyes. She turned awkwardly to her mother.

"I suppose he will be here some time to-morrow, Mummy?"

"It seems exceedingly doubtful, dear," Mrs. Sairson explained. "It is quite possible your father may not be here for the week-end at all. I am very sorry Mr. Lugard. If you can put up with our company for a day or two, perhaps you would not mind. You see, your business——"

"Dear Mrs. Sairson, I shall be delighted," Cecil exclaimed. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure. I'm sorry to miss my host, of course, and in any case I should have gone to the village hotel. I have quite made up my mind to take the Dower House. It is exactly what I need. Let me thank you again for your kind offer, which I am very grateful for."

Nest's eyes flashed at Cecil. She was telling him of her pleasure as plainly as words could speak. Her beaming glances set his heart beating, yet he was conscious of a certain dullness in Mrs. Sairson's manner. Why did she not want him to stay? Why was Nest so delighted to hear that her father was not coming? What was the cloud of sorrow hanging over Angela? With all its beauty and refinement and evidence of wealth, the Grange was a home of tears. So far the blight seemed to have passed over Nest's very head, but it might not be for long. It should not come at all so far as he could help, Cecil determined.

"Are you sure it is convenient?" he asked.

"Oh, I hope you don't imagine that you are in the way!" Mrs. Sairson cried. "It is a great pleasure to myself and the girls to see anybody in these days. I mean somebody.. .. You follow me, I know. I will telegraph to my husband that you are staying till Monday."

She faded from the hall as gently as she had entered, leaving a subtle sense of constraint behind.

"Your conscience troubles you," Nest smiled. "You think that perhaps you ought not to stay."

"I'm sure that I want to," Cecil replied. "But your mother——"

"Would rather you didn't? I don't really know. I am puzzled at things at times. This is a most extraordinary household. Mother is most kind and hospitable, and would be very miserable if you did not remain. There's a skeleton in every cupboard, they say; and if I blunder upon the cupboard that contains our family skeleton I shall burn it. As to my father, I am glad he is not coming. Oh! I know all about duty to one's parents. But we have never hit it together, and never shall. The longer he stays away from here the better I like him. We ought to have a real good time between now and Monday. I hope you are going to have the drawing-room in cream and gold."

"The drawing-room of the Dower House will be as you please," Cecil said. "If you like we will spend the whole of the next few days in planning it out. Only I must have a say about the dining-room and the library. I want you to scheme out the other rooms exactly as you please. You know why, Nest!"

The girl flushed and trembled, and laughed unsteadily.

"It would be delightful," she whispered. "Every girl worthy of the name loves the planning of a home. I have in my room a most delightful book with colored plates, designed by a French artist. There are plans for a house just like yours. May I fetch it for you?"

Cecil begged her to bring the volume, and she returned with it in a few minutes. Nest drew up a chair and opened the book. Cecil sat so close to her that he could catch the fragrance of her hair, could feel the warmth of her slender young body. She laid her hand upon his shoulder and he did not move.

"Now, what do you think of this?" she asked. "I should like a drawing-room like that, and a morning-room like the one on the next page. And that doesn't seem a bad scheme for a hall. Oh, Mr. Lugard, I do hope you can afford to indulge in such expenditure."

"The money is all right," Cecil said grimly. "Have no fear on that score. I am going to adopt your suggestion as to everything. I want you to feel that it is all your own."

"Only it must be a secret from the future Mrs. Lugard," Nest laughed. "It would never do for her to feel that somebody else had been consulted."

"She would not be jealous," Cecil said. "My dear Nest, don't you know why I have asked you to do this for me? Don't you know that I wanted you to feel that nothing had been done without your consent? Because I hope—it is my fervent desire—that the Dower House will be—not mine, but ours."

The red and pink flamed in the girl's cheek again. Her eyes were moist and blurred, so that the colors on the diagrams were misty. A new happiness filled her heart, and she was conscious of a sense of pride that she had never experienced before. She knew that his love was dear to her. She felt herself drawn towards him with a tender, lingering pressure.

"You are going to share it with me, darling?"

Nest looked up quickly. The glad eyes in her crimson face brimmed with happy tears. "You really and truly mean that?" she whispered.

"Of course, I mean it. My dear, you know I mean it. I believe you know that I loved you from the very first day we met. I did not tell you so at Berne, because I was not in the position to ask you to be my wife. What do you say, darling?"

Nest lifted her face and kissed him.

"What is there to say?" she asked, "except that I am the happiest girl in the world. I knew all along that you cared for me, and I understood, too, why you could not ask me to be your wife. It was very fine and very noble of you, Cecil, but it vexed me very much, because I did not care how poor you were; I did not care about anything so long as you loved me. I would have shared a cottage with you. I believe I would have married anybody to get away from a hateful life like this."

"My dearest girl," Lugard protested "surely you don't mean——"

"That I could ever think of anybody else after you," Nest sobbed. "Oh, no, no! There never was anybody else, dear. But a cloud hangs over the house and over our lives, and my father has something to do with our wretchedness. At one time Angela was as happy as I am. Her future promised to be blissful, but you know what happened. What had she done that her life should be blighted in that way? Why was she to blame? My father could have stopped the trouble had he liked. I overheard part of a conversation between my mother and him. There was something to do with money and blood and tears at the bottom of it. Cecil, you won't mind? If there is anything wrong you won't hurt me in that way?"

The tears were drenching the roses of her cheeks; her eyes were passionate and pleading. Cecil caught her to him hard and kissed her fondly, and a sunny smile broke through the tears.

"I expected you would say that," she whispered. "Cecil, let this be our secret for a little longer. I don't want even my mother to know of the engagement yet, I don't want her to cry and weep over me and prophesy evil; I don't want to flaunt my happiness before Angela. Let the secret remain."

"It shall remain as long as you like, dear," said Cecil. "I'll try to be patient. Meanwhile, we'll go on furnishing the Dower House as if we were doing it for its own sake."

Lugard sat and thought it out long after the family had retired and the house was still. He was not in the least inclined for bed. He preferred to sit up in the library, where he had been provided with cigars and cigarettes, and the other creature comforts men like. Many matters he wanted to ponder in peace and quiet.

Everything seemed to be going his way. He was rich and prosperous, had good health, and the heart of the dearest girl in the world was his. All he had asked Providence for had been granted. Yet there was something strange here, some deep-seated sorrow he had to fathom. Whatever it was, he could not see how it could possibly touch the girls. Even if the father were a convicted thief, they were none the worse. It was not like Jack Barr to throw a girl over for the sins of another, even if that other were her father. Nevertheless, Cecil felt uncomfortable as he thought of it.

He came out of the sea of speculation with a shock. Surely, he heard somebody moving about in the hall. He had promised to fasten one of the drawing-room windows, and had forgotten to do it. If there were a midnight marauder in the hall he had entered the house by that means. Cecil slipped off his shoes and crept into the hall. As he did so a figure loomed out of the darkness and gripped him by the throat. It was so quick, so utterly unexpected, that Cecil staggered back. He had some difficulty in keeping on his feet. Then his nerve returned to him, and he fought grimly and silently for the mastery. A little later the intruder was dragged into the library and flung to the floor.

"If you stir an inch," Lugard said sternly. "I'll break your neck. Try that again and I shall hand you over to the police. What are you?—Good God, it's Jack Barr!"

The man rose slowly from the floor, furious of look, white of face, dirty, dishevelled, with clothes that were little better than rags.

"Yes," he said heavily, "all that is left of your old friend, Jack Barr!"