The Weird Sisters: A Romance. Volume 2 of 3
"Oh, yes; she has promised. She is and has been a great and a good friend to me. I do not know what I should have done all through the last few months but for her. She has promised to stay with me as long as I like, and I know I shall like her to stay with me always."
He looked fixedly at the slender graceful figure by his side, the figure of the only woman in the world in whom he felt interest – the interest of blood. The idea that he was head of the family felt new to him. He had often tried to realise it before, but never until now did he know what it was to have any one dependent upon his protection; and the person so depending being his beautiful cousin Maud, the feeling was not only new, but sweet and purifying as well.
At length he said: "I wish I had not to go abroad; but, Maud, when I came away from Egypt I had intended to return, and left matters in such a state that my not going back would cause the greatest confusion, and I must not, because I have now become rich, treat badly the office so useful to me when I was poor. But I will be back to see that you are all right as soon as ever I can. Has your guardian, Mr. Grey, any sons?"
"No. He has no child. He never had a child."
"He is married, of course?"
"Yes, but he lost his wife in a dreadful accident that happened to a river steamboat some months ago."
"Then he is a widower?"
"Yes."
Sir William's brows fell, and he bent his eyes on the ground for a few seconds. He raised his head, and, partly closing his lids, looked dead ahead for a few seconds more.
"Your father's will was dated the 9th of June in this year. Had Mr. Grey lost his wife then?"
"No. Not, I think, for some months after. Now I remember, Mr. Grey was here at the moment the steamboat, on which his wife was, blew up. I remember now. That day we sent for Mr. Grey; Sir Alexander was raving about him and other things, and Mr. Grey was on the Island when the vessel blew up. That night father became delirious finally. I now recollect it all."
"So that your father, while in possession of his senses, did not hear Mr. Grey had lost his wife?"
"No. Does it make any difference? Cannot a widower be guardian in a will?" She dreaded to lose the protection she had been taught to rely on.
"Oh, indeed, he can. It makes not the least difference in the eyes of the law whether a man has a wife or not, as far as his appointment of guardian in a will goes. I was asking merely for information's sake. And now, Maud, I think you had better go in. It is getting dark already, and I should like to have a little conversation with your guardian – your other guardian – before I leave. By the way, at first I was puzzled to think why Sir Alexander did not leave yourself under the absolute control of Mr. Grey, but I think I guess the reason. When the will was made you were old enough to take care of yourself in all ordinary everyday matters, and his feelings would not allow a daughter of his, a daughter of this house, to be under the control of a banker. I know that your father was a little peculiar, and had no friends or associates of his own rank. He made Mr. Grey guardian of Miss Midharst's fortune, but not of Miss Midharst herself. It is my lucky chance to occupy the latter flattering position. Good-bye, now, Maud. I am staying at the "Warfinger," in Daneford. I shall come over every day of the few I am in this place to see you."
They had now arrived at the library-door. It opened slowly, and a man appeared on the threshold, and stood still as if transfixed. Neither of the others noticed the presence of the man in the doorway.
Sir William went on: "Our meeting was very formal, and our greetings were very formal too. But we are good friends now, and loyal cousins. Cousins may be more affectionate, Maud, than strangers in blood. Good-day, Maud," said he, stooping and kissing her white forehead lightly. "Good-bye; and remember to take great care of yourself, and rely on me."
She moved slowly away.
He turned briskly to the library-door, and seeing the man on the threshold, said gravely:
"Mr. Grey, I am glad to have met you, and shall feel much obliged if you will favour me with a few moments' conversation."
Without saying a word Grey re-entered the library; the baronet followed him.
CHAPTER IV
THE TWO GUARDIANS
When the two men found themselves in the library it was quite dusk outside, and a deep gloom filled the room. There was no one else in the place, and no candle or lamp illumed the dark and cavernous recesses of shadows lying here and there remote from the great window.
"I will not detain you long, Mr. Grey. Do you wish for lights?"
"Not at all, Sir William."
This man, who had come in the morning as a stranger, and whom he, Grey, promised himself he would quickly eject if he made himself unpleasant or pushed himself upon Miss Midharst after the reading of the will, was now treating him, Grey, as a guest in that house! And not only that, but he had pushed himself upon Miss Midharst, and seemed to have got on very well with her, judging from the parting which had just taken place between them. The tables were turned on him, Grey, and the less light there was to expose his discomfiture the pleasanter for him. The gold was still leading, still leading, but only by a head; and the lead was gaining, hair's-breadth by hair's-breadth, every minute.
"Suppose we sit near the window, where the most light is," said Sir William.
They both moved towards the window, and, having taken chairs, the younger man began:
"In the first place, Mr. Grey, let me thank you most cordially for all your great kindness and care shown to Miss Midharst during this troublesome time. I assure you I shall never forget the debt of gratitude I owe you for your generosity and devotedness under the trying circumstances."
"I feel greatly flattered by your approval, Sir William. I have tried in my humble way to do my duty, and if I have failed I have failed through no want of desire to do my duty by the child of – if I may be permitted to call him so – my old friend Sir Alexander Midharst."
There was a strange mixture of emotions in Grey's voice as he spoke. Sarcasm and fear mingled freely, and the young man was for a moment in doubt as to how he should proceed. Mr. Grey, now alone and in the dark, did not impress him quite so favourably as earlier in the day, when others were present, and when the man's face and figure could be seen.
The young man paused a while, and made up his mind not to inquire into the constituents of that tone if it were not repeated.
"It," he thought, "may have been accidental."
Aloud he said, "I did not come into this neighbourhood until last night, and since then every one I met seems to have done nothing but sing your praise. All the people at the "Warfinger Hotel" have spoken in unstinted terms of respect. You must not think they knew who I was, for I gave no name. I was and am greatly delighted at this, for I hope from it you and I may get on well together, out of consideration to my cousin's comfort."
"I sincerely trust we may always get on well together. I certainly will not deliberately risk losing your good opinion."
This time there was nothing unusual or disquieting in the tone. Grey had himself caught the import of his own voice in his previous reply, and felt he had made a great mistake. It was very hard though for him, Grey, a man of his position and standing, to sit there and be blandly approved of by this young man – by this young man who seemed to take his own success in all things as a foregone conclusion. He, Grey, must play his cards carefully, and above all things he must not show the direction in which it was necessary for him to force the game. But he was in the dark; and if denied the expression of his feelings to his voice, he might allow them to run riot over his face, and it was a relief to frown and scowl and sneer in silence.
"I have first of all a favour to ask you, Mr. Grey."
"I am sure, Sir William, if it is in my power to grant it, I shall be only too happy to do so." This was said in the banker's most urbane accents.
"Well, I understand that your bank has kept the Midharst account for a long time; will you be kind enough to accept the keeping of mine?"
"The Midharst has been the most important of all our accounts for a long time, and we shall feel honoured and delighted if you will favour us with yours."
There was nothing very dreadful about this. It seemed as if the young baronet would turn out as confiding and uninquisitive as the old one. So far this looked promising.
"And now," said Sir William, "will you do me another favour?"
"If," returned the banker, in a gay tone of badinage, "the second favour at all resembles the first, I think I could go on granting you such favours all the night."
This young man was not only simple and confiding, but downright amiable and sociable.
"You must not think I am extravagant when I have said what I am going to say."
"My dear Sir William, if you want any money, you draw on us, as a matter of course, for any sum you may require. That is an affair of ordinary business, not favour; and it was quite unnecessary for you to say anything about it."
Things were growing more comfortable as they got along.
"Why, I should not wonder," thought Grey, with a smile that almost developed into a laugh, – "I should not wonder if he gave away the bride."
"But the sum I require is large."
"Draw on us for it in the morning."
"I don't think you would say so if you knew the sum."
"Try us. Draw on us to-morrow."
"Twenty thousand?"
"Only? I thought the sum was a serious one! You really must not think of attaching any importance to such a matter. My dear Sir William, you can draw on us for fifty thousand without notice. If you have the least occasion for more than fifty, just tell me four days before you draw, so that there may be no chance of a disappointment to you."
Grey thought, "Clearly this young man is in debt. How lucky! When a man is in debt and wants money badly he will do – " He paused, thought of his own case, shuddered, and whispered in the innermost solitude of the desert of crime where he and his spectre dwelt, – "he will do anything – murder!"
"You must not think I am in debt. I do not owe a shilling. I never did."
"That is highly creditable in a young man of your expectations," said Grey, in a tone of high admiration. To himself he said, "I'm sorry it isn't for debts he wants the money. What can he want the money for? Nothing good, I'll swear."
"You see, Mr. Grey, I may seem abrupt to you, but I do not mean to be so."
"I assure you I cannot guess why you for a moment imagine I could find reason to think you abrupt."
"Ah, well, yes! What I said about abruptness has rather to do with what I am about to say than with anything I have yet said. I am very quick to decide upon things, and very prompt to act, and I may say without boasting that once I take a thing in hand I usually make it turn out as I wish; I like to do things that seem difficult; but I never undertake anything when I do not clearly see my way to realisation."
"Most useful, positively invaluable qualities," said Grey, in a tone of admiration; mentally he thought, "If what this man says of himself is true, my life depends upon the direction this cursed activity of his takes."
"I have to leave the country for a time. I must go back to Egypt for some months."
"Indeed!" ejaculated Grey. He could scarcely repress a cry of joy. To be rid, and rid quickly, of this dreamy energetic man was a mercy for which he did not dare to hope. "Do you leave England soon?" Grey asked in a tone of gentle sorrow.
"In a few days. Ten days at the outside, and before I leave I want the money, and to put the thing I have decided upon in trim."
"Can I be of any further assistance to you than financially?"
"Yes, I think you can, if you will be kind enough. You take a great interest in Miss Midharst?"
"Aha!" exclaimed Grey, as though he had been struck. The question of the young man caused the terrible importance of Miss Midharst to present itself suddenly to his mind. He saw at one glance the stakes he had put down, and the prize for which he was playing; and thus coming suddenly upon a bird's-eye view of his position, he received a violent shock, which forced the exclamation from him.
"What's the matter?" cried the young man, rising quickly and approaching the banker. "Are you hurt?"
"Pray excuse me. It is nothing, Sir William. Do be seated. I am very sorry for having alarmed you. Some little time ago I injured my knee – as I thought at the time, slightly; but it often gives me a single pang of most acute pain, and in crossing my legs just as you spoke that pang came, and I could not but cry out, if my life depended on not doing so. I know you will excuse me, Sir William; the pain is all gone. I think you were saying, when I so unhappily interrupted you, that you and I take a deep interest in Miss Midharst."
"You are sure you are all right?"
"Yes, quite sure."
"Did you ever hear the death-scream of a horse?"
"No, never."
"Your shout frightened me; it was like that. Well, as I was saying, we both take an interest in Miss Midharst. You know the way Sir Alexander treated this place. I heard of it, and to-day I see it."
"Yes; it is naked enough."
"Well, it is not a fit place for Miss Midharst to reside in now."
"I have been thinking, of course, of getting a suitable house for her until we are able to buy or build one."
"Oh, I don't mean anything of that kind. She is to stay here."
"Stay here! You do not know that from me, Sir William. It is not my intention. My intention was to place my own house at her disposal, and live in my town house."
"Oh, but it is all settled: she is to stay here."
"All settled! All settled, Sir William, and by whom?"
"By Miss Midharst and me."
"But – but – " Grey was trembling all over now, he knew not why – "but, Sir William, one would think Miss Midharst's guardian might have been consulted on the matter before all was settled."
"I assure you he was."
"But I pledge you my word, Sir William, this is the first I have heard of it."
"My dear Mr. Grey, there is some mistake. You surely do not imagine you are Miss Midharst's guardian?"
"Then, in the name of Heaven," cried Grey feebly, "if I am not, who is?"
"I."
"You! But the will does not mention your name!"
"Nor yours, as guardian of her person. You will take charge of Miss Midharst's fortune, as by will appointed. I will take charge of Miss Midharst herself, by position as head of the house. You did not catch the full drift of the meaning of the will. I paid particular attention to that paragraph."
"No doubt you are right, Sir William. I did not pay particular attention to that paragraph. I gathered that I was the only guardian named, and I concluded the conditions were the usual ones."
It was with the utmost difficulty Grey could prevent himself from betraying his conflicting passions. Now came personal anger against the young and determined baronet; now despair at the thought of having Maud removed from his personal custody. Sir Alexander had certainly given him to understand that he, Grey, was to be guardian to the girl; and here was he, after all he had done and risked, after he had died his hands in blood – Bah! that kind of thing would drive him mad. He must keep calm now if he did not wish to hang next month.
The young man continued: "That twenty thousand I want for putting this place to rights. I see already what I wish done to the grounds; before I leave I shall know what I want done to the building and furniture."
"By-and-by, I daresay," thought Grey, "you will find out what you want done with me."
The interview lasted little longer, and nothing of importance followed. As Grey went home that night he thought:
"He will be months away. I will be all these months here. Before he can be back she shall be mine. I know it, I feel it. I am not now very nice in the means I employ. She shall be mine before he returns by – some means or other."
CHAPTER V
THE INDEFINITE PRESENT
The morning after the funeral Mrs. Grant and Maud walked up and down one of the long, silent corridors for an hour. The evening before, when the widow and the young girl sat together in the firelight, Maud had told the other the main features of the facts in the interview between herself and Sir William. Beyond expressing a guarded and general approval of the baronet, Mrs. Grant said little. She had been too tired, and Maud too exhausted from fretting and anxiety, to allow of close inquiry or elaborate statement. Now they were less fatigued, the worst day of the bereavement had passed, and they were quietly discussing matters.
"You know, Maud, my dear, no matter how kind Sir William may be to you, it will not do for you to forget Mr. Grey," said Mrs. Grant, very gravely. "You must not think of defying him or going to law with him, or anything of that sort."
"Indeed, Mrs. Grant, I am thinking of nothing of the kind," replied the girl, looking with troubled eyes and anxious face at her only female friend.
"Because you know," continued the woman, without heeding the interruption or the appealing face – "you know very well the Greys have served the family faithfully for many years; and now the present Mr. Grey has sworn to serve you, and to take care of you, and to be good and kind to you; and I am sure he will; for though he is not such a gentleman by birth as your father or Sir William, still he's a most respectable man."
The widow had the feminine trick of taking the bit in her teeth and going straight on, no matter who pulled right or who pulled left.
"You may rely on my doing nothing of the kind. How can you think I would!" cried the girl fervently.
"Yes, but you mustn't," repeated the widow vehemently. "You must not throw over the friend of years for a man you never saw until yesterday."
"You ought not to say I am going to do anything so wicked – indeed you ought not. But remember that the man I met for the first time yesterday was my cousin, and the head of the Midharsts."
"But your father never liked him."
"My poor father never knew him."
"But he could have known him if he liked, and he didn't."
"That was prejudice."
"Maud!" cried the widow, in a tone of reproach.
The girl burst into tears.
"I did not mean to say anything disrespectful; but I can't bear to think my cousin insincere."
Mrs. Grant pressed the girl in her arms, and said:
"You must not cry; you must not weep, my love. I did not mean you had been disrespectful to your father's memory. Heaven forbid! But you must not be too hasty, and like everyone at first sight. That will never do for a young heiress who has no right guardian."
The girl ceased to weep, and said in an unsteady voice:
"But I never told you I liked him."
"You do like him, Maud; you know you do."
"How could I like him in one meeting?"
"But, Maud, you do like him, and that is why I feel so uneasy."
"Indeed I don't like him. I am afraid of him: he makes me feel smaller and helpless. I never feel helpless when Mr. Grey is near me, for he can always tell me what to do; but I feel as if I must do what my cousin says, and after only one meeting too. I was ashamed to confess this until you made me."
Her luminous candid spirit looked out of the large soft eyes into the eyes of the woman.
Mrs. Grant stole her arm round Maud's waist, and for a while both walked on in silence. At length Mrs. Grant spoke:
"I am glad to hear that."
"To hear what?" asked Maud, in a tone of abstraction.
"That you take no interest in Sir William."
"What!" with a start. The eyes of the girl were once more fixed on the eyes of the widow. "I did not say that. On the contrary, he does interest me."
Mrs. Grant looked bewildered, and glanced helplessly around her, as if seeking someone to bear out what she was about to say.
"Why, child, you told me a moment ago that you did not like him, and that he frightens you!"
"That is true, but a lion frightens me, and I can't say that I like lions; but they interest me more than a King Charlie."
Maud smiled at the bewilderment of the other.
"But, my dear," said Mrs. Grant, with a look of grave trouble in her eyes, "what you say about lions and King Charlie is all nonsense. When you have a King Charlie you play with him, and feed him out of your hand. When you have a lion, you look at him through the bars of a cage. Besides, Maud, it is absurd and romantic to think of an English baronet as a lion. Suppose he was a lion, and he got loose, what should you do?"
"Run away as fast as I could," answered the girl, with a faint laugh.
"But if he caught you?"
"Oh, if he caught me I don't think I could do much."
"There now, Maud, I told you so."
Mrs. Grant had not told Maud anything about her chance of not being able, single-handed, to defend herself against a lion. When she said, "I told you so," she had suddenly lost sight of the monarch of the forest, and come upon the mental image of the baronet of the Island, in whom this girl had admitted she took an interest, which, in the illustration afforded by the lion, proved to be full of the gravest danger.
Miss Midharst had forgotten the baronet in the allegory, and was thinking only of the lion; so that when Mrs. Grant triumphantly said, "I told you so," Maud believed Mrs. Grant was contemplating the same image as herself – that is, her own disappearance down the lion's throat. So that Maud smiled and said:
"Fortunately there are very few lions in this part of the world, and one very seldom gets loose."
"On the contrary, there are very many lions in this part of the country, and they all go about seeking whom they may devour."
Michael the servant entered, and announced, "Sir William Midharst and Mr. Grey."
"You will see Mr. Grey first, of course, Maud?" said Mrs. Grant, in a low voice.
Miss Midharst looked perplexed, and by way of reply said:
"Why?"
"Oh, you will surely see your guardian before a man you met only yesterday?"
"Don't you think it would look strange, Mrs. Grant, if I did not see my cousin before Mr. Grey?"
"Certainly not. Mr. Grey was appointed to take care of you. He has known you since you were a child, and you owe him every respect," said Mrs. Grant, speaking so low that Michael could not hear. Her manner was very earnest.
"But Sir William is my kinsman, and, Mrs. Grant, you and I are his guests in this place. You really would not have the owner of this place wait while I, his guest, received even my guardian? No; my cousin must come first. Michael, ask Sir William to walk this way."
As soon as the door closed on the servant, the girl turned to Mrs. Grant, and said: "Will you see Mr. Grey and apologise for delaying him? Please do, Mrs. Grant."
As the new owner of Island Castle entered the room he met Mrs. Grant going out.
When greetings and ordinary formalities had been disposed of, and the cousins were alone, the man spoke.
"I had an interview with Mr. Grey yesterday evening, and I am glad to say that I found him most reasonable and agreeable. I had two things to speak to him about, neither of which was likely to please him, and he behaved admirably."
"I am sure the more you meet him the more you will like him," said Maud, looking up thankfully to her cousin's face. She felt herself under a personal obligation to her cousin for his frank approval of so old and valuable a friend of her father and herself. The desire to be governed, common to all women, had suddenly sprung up in her nature when her cousin spoke to her last evening of his claims upon the guardianship of his only cousin, and she was now greatly relieved to find respect to the wishes of her father's successor did not clash with fealty to her father's only friend, one on whom she looked as having a strong claim upon her regard and attention.
Sir William did not seem to hear her words. He was standing at the window looking down on the Weeslade with dreamy inattentive eyes.
She was seated on a low chair at the other side of the window. Her eyes were timidly fixed on his face. He had come from Egypt, the land of the inexplicable Pyramids and the inscrutable Sphynx. To her this cousin William's inner life was as dark a mystery as the riddle of the Pyramids, and his face as baffling as the face of the Sphynx. Until now she had heard men speak, and had attended to their words. When he spoke now she regarded less the words than the unuttered thoughts attending upon them. The "How d'ye do?" of other men required only a straightforward answer, without thought beyond the scope of the question. The "How d'ye do?" of her cousin came to her attended by veiled figures of strange aspect, that gave the simple question a volume and depth the mightiest questions never had before.
