Читать книгу The Case of Mrs. Ruhmkorff's Will - Percy Andreae - Страница 8

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My report to Dr. Crackenthorpe on the occurrence of Sunday afternoon filled that worthy gentleman with great concern. But he upheld Mr. Coxton's view that it would be wise, under the circumstances, to conceal the fact from Mrs. Cunninghame. To Clive himself he delivered a grave lecture upon the duties of human beings in general, and only sons in particular, which gave that excitable young gentleman, as he himself expressed it, 'fits,' and produced a war of words between the two, in which the good old doctor got so manifestly the worst of it that I had to withdraw from the scene to avoid aggravating his discomfiture by the laughter which Clive Cunninghame's droll repartee provoked in me.

"The confounded old idiot!" my patient exclaimed, still fuming, when the doctor had left the room. "You would think I had broken my leg for the mere pleasure of the thing. Hang him and all his tommyrot! Because he had a hand in bringing me into the world, he supposes I'm in duty bound to swallow his moral pills as long as I'm in it. Nurse," he added, with solemn emphasis, "if I ever commit a murder, my victim will be a goody-goody man. Mark my words."

A minute after he had forgotten his anger and was entertaining me with an account of a foolish boy's trick which he had once played on the old doctor, for whom, I believe, he really had a warm corner in his heart, in spite of his irritability towards him.

It would be difficult for me to describe the bewildering effect which Clive Cunninghame's apparently mirthful disposition produced upon me. While, on the one hand, it lulled to rest the anxiety I felt as to what he might do next, it rendered his case so mysterious to me that it seemed to baffle all hope of solution. And the mystery of it all grew deeper to me the more familiar I became with the everyday life of the little circle at Glen Elc.

In spite of the slight check which Mr. Cunninghame's progress towards recovery had received in consequence of the mad freak I have described in the previous chapter, his convalescence proved a remarkably rapid one, and within two weeks of that strange occurrence he was already in a condition to be wheeled in and out of the house on a perambulating chair. He now passed the greater part of the day in the open air, a circumstance which proved a source of some embarrassment to me, for it was infinitely more difficult to exercise that watchfulness over him which I felt was so needful under these conditions than it had been during his confinement indoors. I think he noticed my anxiety to keep within hearing distance, if not actually within sight, of him, for he more than once hinted that he considered my attendance upon him in the open air superfluous, and on one occasion jokingly remarked that any one seeing us day after day thus seated within a dozen yards' distance of one another might be liable to take us for a lunatic and his keeper. It was the second time he had made reference to me in this way as his keeper, and I retorted by observing that, after the experience I had undergone with him, he could scarcely wonder if I felt the necessity of keeping a close watch upon him.

He looked me full in the face for an instant without answering, then merely turned aside with the remark, "Well, you're a gem of a nurse, I must say," and said no more.

There was one, however, who not only noticed my reluctance to quit my patient's side, but who unmistakably resented it. This was Belle Staunton. Following the instructions of Dr. Crackenthorpe, and in a certain measure also the half-expressed desire of Mrs. Cunninghame, I had thought it my duty to discountenance, as far as lay in my power, anything in the nature of a lengthy interview between Clive Cunninghame and Miss Staunton. I had succeeded so far, no doubt, but I fear only at the sacrifice of the latter's friendship. Whether she had noticed my purpose, which I hardly believe, for I acted on all occasions with the greatest possible discretion, or whether she had conceived a spontaneous dislike of my humble person, it is certain that my entrance into Mr. Cunninghame's room would at all times be the signal for her immediate withdrawal. Since my arrival at Glen Elc she had not addressed a dozen words to me, and if it chanced that I met her about the house, she would merely respond to my greeting with a haughty inclination of her head and pass on without bestowing the slightest notice upon me.

Notwithstanding, I cannot say that I disliked her. She was strikingly beautiful, and there was a certain loftiness of bearing about her that impressed me in spite of myself. From the little I saw of her I should have judged her to be somewhat self-willed, but scarcely strong in actual character. She was passionately addicted to dress and finery, and the comforts and pleasures of life were, I think, more in her thoughts than one likes to observe in one of her age and position. Possibly this opinion of mine was coloured by what I had learned of her history and circumstances. But it proved to be in the main correct, as the reader will acknowledge as he proceeds.

One afternoon early in July I was sitting under a cluster of trees in the grounds of Glen Elc at a little distance from Mr. Cunninghame, who had had his couch wheeled into a kind of bower on the border of the big lawn, when he called to me, and requested me to fetch him a certain novel, the exact position of which on the library shelves he was careful to explain to me. Though I was loth to leave him alone, it was a request I could find no excuse to refuse, so I complied without further demur. As I crossed the lawn towards the house, I saw through the trees which girdled the lawn on one side the figure of Miss Staunton passing along the walk that led to the bower where Mr. Cunninghame lay. The circumstance made no particular impression upon me at the moment, though I afterwards concluded that Mr. Cunninghame had seen her approaching, and had used this means to rid himself of my presence for a while.

It took me some time to find the book I was sent for, and it must have been fully ten minutes before I issued from the house again. When I had arrived within about twenty yards of the bower, I heard the voices of Clive Cunninghame and Miss Staunton raised in what appeared to me to be an angry altercation, and, being reluctant to burst in upon them under such circumstances, I stopped and turned aside with the intention of proceeding to the spot where I had been sitting before, and where I could make my presence known to them without appearing to intrude upon their privacy.

As I did so I caught the following words, spoken by Mr. Cunninghame in a loud and petulant tone:

"I tell you, Belle, it's all a forlorn hope, and you had better give in with a good grace. Coxton will no more think of changing his mind than he will of flying; and by all that's honourable you ought to bring the matter to a finish."

Thereupon came some reply from Miss Staunton, which was inaudible to me, and was followed by a passionate outburst on Clive's part.

"You've heard what I have said," he exclaimed, "and it's my ultimatum, Belle. You have no right to fool a fellow like this. I ought never to have submitted to it. Call it cruel, if you like, or what not else, you won't alter my decision. I've been weak too long—damned weak, by Jove! and I won't stand it any longer, not for any man or woman alive."

There was a brief pause, and then Belle Staunton spoke in an agitated tone.

"Is this, then, the outcome of your promises? You dare to threaten me?"

"Threaten you?" exclaimed Clive, evidently half-rising from the lounge in his excitement. "Why, yes, I'll do anything in the world to bring you to a sense of your folly. Can't you see that this infatuation is unworthy of a girl with a spark of self-respect? Belle, on my word of honour, I'll cut my throat if you don't make an end of this."

What Miss Staunton answered, or whether she answered at all, I cannot say. I only heard a sound like a stifled sob, then a rustling of female garments, and a moment afterwards Belle hurried past me up the path towards the house. Her dress almost brushed my own as she swept by. But she had covered her face with her hands, and I do not think she noticed me.

When I stepped up to Mr. Cunninghame, he had thrown himself back full length upon his lounge, and lay staring with flushed face and knitted brows up at the sky above him. He bestowed no notice either upon me or upon the book which I placed at his side; and seeing that he was in no mood to be talked to, I withdrew silently to my seat near by, and resumed the occupation he had interrupted me in a quarter of an hour before.

What I had heard gave me much food for earnest thought. The impression I had harboured all along, that Clive Cunninghame's behaviour towards Miss Staunton was anything but that of a courting lover, appeared here to be confirmed in the most striking manner. Indeed, if I interpreted the scene I had just partially witnessed aright, it seemed to be rather Belle Staunton herself who occupied the position of the pleading party. And I confess that this circumstance filled me with mingled feelings of indignation and pity: with indignation against the man, without whose fault I felt certain she could never have fallen to such a level; for could anyone suppose that a girl of Belle Staunton's character and attractions would so far forget her womanly dignity as to plead with one whom she loved, unless he had given her cause to believe that her affection was returned? with pity for the girl; for how much must she not have endured before she could bring herself to stoop to such expedients?

One thing now appeared to me to be certain, and that was that Miss Staunton did not love Richard Coxton. Whether she had bestowed her affections on Clive Cunninghame, perhaps after having first rejected him, was a question upon which I was only left to conjecture. I received a certain light on the subject, however, shortly afterwards, which, while it left the main point that interested me unexplained—I refer to Mr. Cunninghame's affliction—again altered my view of the case in many respects very materially.