Mr Gilfil's Love Story Page 8

elbow, as if to watch the game, that she might not appear to thrust herself on

  the pair of lovers. At first she was glowing with her little triumph, and felt

  the strength of pride; but her eye would steal to the opposite side of the

  fireplace, where Captain Wybrow had seated himself close to Miss Assher, and was

  leaning with his arm over the back of the chair, in the most lover-like

  position. Caterina began to feel a choking sensation. She could see, almost

  without looking, that he was taking up her arm to examine her bracelet; their

  heads were bending close together, her curls touching his cheek�now he was

  putting his lips to her hand. Caterina felt her cheeks burn�she could sit no

  longer. She got up, pretended to be gliding about in search of something, and at

  length slipped out of the room.

  Outside, she took a candle, and, hurrying along the passages and up the stairs

  to her own room, locked the door.

  'O, I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it!' the poor thing burst out aloud,

  clasping her little fingers, and pressing them back against her forehead, as if

  she wanted to break them.

  Then she walked hurriedly up and down the room.

  'And this must go on for days and days, and I must see it.'

  She looked about nervously for something to clutch. There was a muslin kerchief

  lying on the table; she took it up and tore it into shreds as she walked up and

  down, and then pressed it into hard balls in her hand.

  'And Anthony,' she thought, 'he can do this without caring for what I feel. O,

  he can forget everything: how he used to say he loved me�how he used to take my

  hand in his as we walked�how he used to stand near me in the evenings for the

  sake of looking into my eyes.'

  'Oh, it is cruel, it is cruel! ' she burst out again aloud, as all those

  love-moments in the past returned upon her. Then the tears gushed forth, she

  threw herself on her knees by the bed, and sobbed bitterly.

  She did not know how long she had been there, till she was startled by the

  prayer-bell; when, thinking Lady Cheverel might perhaps send some one to inquire

  after her, she rose, and began hastily to undress, that there might be no

  possibility of her going down again. She had hardly unfastened her hair, and

  thrown a loose gown about her, before there was a knock at the door, and Mrs

  Sharp's voice said�'Miss Tina, my lady wants to know if you're ill.'

  Caterina opened the door and said, 'Thank you, dear Mrs Sharp; I have a bad

  headache; please tell my lady I felt it come on after singing.'

  'Then, goodness me! why arn't you in bed, instead o' standing shivering there,

  fit to catch your death? Come, let me fasten up your hair and tuck you up warm.'

  'O no, thank you; I shall really be in bed very soon. Good-night, dear Sharpy;

  don't scold; I will be good, and get into bed.'

  Caterina kissed her old friend coaxingly, but Mrs Sharp was not to be 'come

  over' in that way, and insisted on seeing her former charge in bed, taking away

  the candle which the poor child had wanted to keep as a companion.

  But it was impossible to lie there long with that beating heart; and the little

  white figure was soon out of bed again, seeking relief in the very sense of

  chill and uncomfort. It was light enough for her to see about her room, for the

  moon, nearly at full, was riding high in the heavens among scattered hurrying

  clouds. Caterina drew aside the window-curtain; and, sitting with her forehead

  pressed against the cold pane, looked out on the wide stretch of park and lawn.

  How dreary the moonlight is! robbed of all its tenderness and repose by the hard

  driving wind. The trees are harassed by that tossing motion, when they would

  like to be at rest; the shivering grass makes her quake with sympathetic cold;

  and the willows by the pool, bent low and white under that invisible harshness,

  seem agitated and helpless like herself. But she loves the scene the better for

  its sadness: there is some pity in it. It is not like that hard unfeeling

  happiness of lovers, flaunting in the eyes of misery.

  She set her teeth tight against the window-frame, and the tears fell thick and

  fast. She was so thankful she could cry, for the mad passion she had felt when

  her eyes were dry frightened her. If that dreadful feeling were to come on when

  Lady Cheverel was present, she should never be able to contain herself.

  Then there was Sir Christopher�so good to her�so happy about Anthony's marriage;

  and all the while she had these wicked feelings.

  'O, I cannot help it, I cannot help it!' she said in a loud whisper between her

  sobs. 'O God, have pity upon me!'

  In this way Tina wore out the long hours of the windy moon-light, till at last,

  with weary aching limbs, she lay down in bed again, and slept from mere

  exhaustion.

  While this poor little heart was being bruised with a weight too heavy for it,

  Nature was holding on her calm inexorable way, in unmoved and terrible beauty.

  The stars were rushing in their eternal courses; the tides swelled to the level

  of the last expectant weed; the sun was making brilliant day to busy nations on

  the other side of the swift earth. The stream of human thought and deed was

  hurrying and broadening onward. The astronomer was at his telescope; the great

  ships were labouring over the waves; the toiling eagerness of commerce, the

  fierce spirit of revolution, were only ebbing in brief rest; and sleepless

  statesmen were dreading the possible crisis of the morrow. What were our little

  Tina and her trouble in this mighty torrent, rushing from one awful unknown to

  another? Lighter than the smallest centre of quivering life in the waterdrop,

  hidden and uncared for as the pulse of anguish in the breast of the tiniest bird

  that has fluttered down to its nest with the long-sought food, and has found the

  nest torn and empty.

  Chapter 6

  THE next morning, when Caterina was waked from her heavy sleep by Martha

  bringing in the warm water, the sun was shining, the wind had abated, and those

  hours of suffering in the night seemed unreal and dreamlike, in spite of weary

  limbs and aching eyes. She got up and began to dress with a strange feeling of

  insensibility, as if nothing could make her cry again; and she even felt a sort

  of longing to be down-stairs in the midst of company, that she might get rid of

  this benumbed condition by contact.

  There are few of us that are not rather ashamed of our sins and follies as we

  look out on the blessed morning sunlight, which comes to us like a bright-winged

  angel beckoning us to quit the old path of vanity that stretches its dreary

  length behind us; and Tina, little as she knew about doctrines and theories,

  seemed to herself to have been both foolish and wicked yesterday. Today she

  would try to be good; and when she knelt down to say her short prayer�the very

  form she had learned by heart when she was ten years old�she added, 'O God, help

  me to bear it! '

  That day the prayer seemed to be answered, for after some remarks on her pale

  looks at breakfast, Caterina passed the morning quietly, Miss Assher and Captain

  Wybrow being out on
a riding excursion. In the evening there was a dinner-party,

  and after Caterina had sung a little, Lady Cheverel remember ing that she was

  ailing, sent her to bed, where she soon sank into a deep sleep. Body and mind

  must renew their force to suffer as well as to enjoy.

  On the morrow, however, it was rainy, and every one must stay in-doors; so it

  was resolved that the guests should be taken over the house by Sir Christopher,

  to hear the story of the architectural alterations, the family portraits, and

  the family relics. All the party, except Mr Gilfil, were in the drawing-room

  when the proposition was made; and when Miss Assher rose to go, she looked

  towards Captain Wybrow, expecting to see him rise too; but he kept his seat near

  the fire, turning his eyes towards the newspaper which he had been holding

  unread in his hand.

  'Are you not coming, Anthony?' said Lady Cheverel, noticing Miss Assher's look

  of expectation.

  'I think not, if you'll excuse me,' he answered, rising and opening the door; 'I

  feel a little chilled this morning, and I am afraid of the cold rooms and

  draughts.'

  Miss Assher reddened, but said nothing, and passed on, Lady Cheverel

  accompanying her.

  Caterina was seated at work in the oriel window. It was the first time she and

  Anthony had been alone together, and she had thought before that he wished to

  avoid her. But now, surely, he wanted to speak to her�he wanted to say something

  kind. Presently he rose from his seat near the fire, and placed himself on the

  ottoman opposite to her.

  'Well, Tina, and how have you been all this long time?'

  Both the tone and the words were an offence to her; the tone was so different

  from the old one, the words were so cold and unmeaning. She answered, with a

  little bitterness,�

  'I think you needn't ask. It doesn't make much difference to you.'

  'Is that the kindest thing you have to say to me after my long absence?'

  'I don't know why you should expect me to say kind things.'

  Captain Wybrow was silent. He wished very much to avoid allusions to the past or

  comments on the present. And yet he wished to he well with Caterina. He would

  have liked to caress her, make her presents, and have her think him very kind to

  her. But these women are plaguy perverse! There's no bringing them to look

  rationally at anything. At last he said, 'I hoped you would think all the better

  of me, Tina, for doing as I have done, instead of bearing malice towards me. I

  hoped you would see that it is the best thing for every one�the best for your

  happiness too.'

  'O pray don't make love to Miss Assher for the sake of my happiness,' answered

  Tina.

  At this moment the door opened, and Miss Assher entered, to fetch her reticule,

  which lay on the harpsichord. She gave a keen glance at Caterina, whose face was

  flushed, and saying to Captain Wybrow with a slight sneer, 'Since you are so

  chill I wonder you like to sit in the window,' left the room again immediately.

  The lover did not appear much discomposed, but sat quiet a little longer, and

  then, seating himself on the music-stool, drew it near to Caterina, and, taking

  her hand, said, 'Come, Tina, look kindly at me, and let us be friends. I shall

  always be your friend,'

  'Thank you,' said Caterina, drawing away her hand. 'You are very generous. But

  pray move away. Miss Assher may come in again.'

  'Miss Assher be hanged!' said Anthony, feeling the fascination of old habit

  returning on him in his proximity to Caterina. He put his arm round her waist,

  and leaned his cheek down to hers. The lips couldn't help meeting after that;

  but the next moment, with heart swelling and tears rising, Caterina burst away

  from him, and rushed out of the room.

  Chapter 7

  CATERINA tore herself from Anthony with the desperate effort of one who has just

  self-recollection enough left to be conscious that the fumes of charcoal will

  master his senses unless he bursts a way for himself to the fresh air; but when

  she reached her own room, she was still too intoxicated with that momentary

  revival of old emotions, too much agitated by the sudden return of tenderness in

  her lover, to know whether pain or pleasure predominated. It was as if a miracle

  had happened in her little world of feeling, and made the future all vague - a

  dim morning haze of possibilities, instead of the sombre wintry daylight and

  clear rigid outline of painful certainty.

  She felt the need of rapid movement. She must walk out in spite of the rain.

  Happily, there was a thin place in the curtain of clouds which seemed to promise

  that now, about noon, the day had a mind to clear up. Caterina thought to

  herself,

  'I will walk to the Mosslands, and carry Mr Bates the comforter I have made for

  him, and then Lady Cheverel will not wonder so much at my going out.' At the

  hall door she found Rupert, the old bloodhound, stationed on the mat, with the

  determination that the first person who was sensible enough to take a walk that

  morning should have the honour of his approbation and society. As he thrust his

  great black and tawny head under her hand, and wagged his tail with vigorous

  eloquence, and reached the climax of his welcome by jumping up to lick her face,

  which was at a convenient licking height for him, Caterina felt quite grateful

  to the old dog for his friendliness. Animals are such agreeable friends�they ask

  no questions, they pass no criticisms.

  The 'Mosslands' was a remote part of the grounds, encircled by the little stream

  issuing from the pool; and certainly, for a wet day, Caterina could hardly have

  chosen a less suitable walk, for though the rain was abating, and presently

  ceased altogether, there was still a smart shower falling from the trees which

  arched over the greater part of her way. But she found just the desired relief

  from her feverish excitement in labouring along the wet paths with an umbrella

  that made her arm ache. This amount of exertion was to her tiny body what a

  day's hunting often was to Mr Gilfil, who at times had his fits of jealousy and

  sadness to get rid of, and wisely had recourse to nature's innocent

  opium�fatigue.

  When Caterina reached the pretty arched wooden bridge which formed the only

  entrance to the Mosslands for any but webbed feet, the sun had mastered the

  clouds, and was shining through the boughs of the tall elms that made a deep

  nest for the gardener's cottage�turning the raindrops into diamonds, and

  inviting the nasturtium flowers creeping over the porch and low-thatched roof to

  lift up their flame-coloured heads once more. The rooks were cawing with

  many-voiced monotony, apparently�by a remarkable approximation to human

  intelligence�finding great conversational resources in the change of weather.

  The mossy turf, studded with the broad blades of marsh-loving plants, told that

  Mr Bates's nest was rather damp in the best of weather; but he was of opinion

  that a little external moisture would hurt no man who was not perversely

  neglectful of that obvious and providential antidote, rum-and-water.

&nbs
p; Caterina loved this nest. Every object in it, every sound that haunted it, had

  been familiar to her from the days when she had been carried thither on Mr

  Bates's arm, making little cawing noises to imitate the rooks, clapping her

  hands at the green frogs leaping in the moist grass, and fixing grave eyes on

  the gardener's fowls cluck-clucking under their pens. And now the spot looked

  prettier to her than ever; it was so out of the way of Miss Assher, with her

  brilliant beauty, and personal claims, and small civil remarks. She thought Mr

  Bates would not be come into his dinner yet, so she would sit down and wait for

  him.

  But she was mistaken. Mr Bates was seated in his arm-chair, with his

  pocket-handkerchief thrown over his face, as the most eligible mode of passing

  away those superfluous hours hetween meals when the weather drives a man

  in-doors. Roused by the furious barking of his chained bulldog, he descried his

  little favourite approaching, and forthwith presented himself at the doorway,

  looking disproportionately tall compared with the height of his cottage. The

  bulldog, meanwhile, unbent from the severity of his official demeanour, and

  commenced a friendly interchange of ideas with Rupert.

  Mr Bates's hair was now grey, but his frame was none the less stalwart, and his

  face looked all the redder, making an artistic contrast with the deep blue of

  his cotton neckerchief, and of his linen apron twisted into a girdle round his

  waist.

  'Why, dang my boottons, Miss Tiny,' he exclaimed, 'hoo coom ye to coom oot

  dabblin' your faet laike a little Muscovy duck, sich a day as this? Not but what

  ai'm delaighted to sae ye. Here Hesther,' he called to his old humpbacked

  house-keeper, 'tek the young ledy's oombrella an' spread it oot to dray. Coom,

  coom in, Miss Tiny, an' set ye doon by the faire an' dray yer faet, an' hev

  summat warm to kape ye from ketchin' coold.'

  Mr Bates led the way, stooping under the doorplaces, into his small

  sitting-room, and, shaking the patchwork cushion in his arm-chair, moved it to

  within a good roasting distance of the blazing fire.

  'Thank you, uncle Bates' (Caterina kept up her childish epithets for her

  friends, and this was one of them); 'not quite so close to the fire, for I am

  warm with walking.'

  'Eh, but yer shoes are faine an' wet, an' ye must put up yer faet on the fender.

  Rare big faet, baint 'em?�aboot the saize of a good big spoon. I woonder ye can

  mek a shift to stan' on 'em. Now, what'll ye hev to warm yer insaide?�a drop o'

  hot elder wain, now?'

  'No, not anything to drink, thank you; it isn't very long since breakfast,' said

  Caterina, drawing out the comforter from her deep pocket. Pockets were capacious

  in those days. 'Look here, uncle Bates, here is what I came to bring you. I made

  it on purpose for you. You must wear it this winter, and give your red one to

  old Brooks.'

  'Eh, Miss Tiny, this is a beauty. An' ye made it all wi' yer little fingers for

  an old feller laike mae! I tek it very kaind on ye, an' I belave ye I'll wear

  it, and be prood on't too. These sthraipes, blue an' whaite, now, they mek it

  uncommon pritty.'

  'Yes, that will suit your complexion, you know, better than the old scarlet one.

  I know Mrs Sharp will be more in love with you than ever when she sees you in

  the new one.'

  'My complexion, ye little roogue! ye're a laughin' at me. But talkin' o'

  complexions, what a beautiful colour the bride as is to be has on her cheeks!

  Dang my boottons! she looks faine and handsome o' hossback�sits as upraight as a

  dart, wi' a figure like a statty! Misthress Sharp has promised to put me behaind

  one o' the doors when the ladies are comin' doon to dinner, so as I may sae the

  young un i' full dress, wi' all her curls an' that. Misthress Sharp says she's

  almost beautifuller nor my ledy was when she was yoong; an' I think ye'll noot

  faind man i' the counthry as'll coom up to that.'

  'Yes, Miss Assher is very handsome,' said Caterina, rather faintly, feeling the