At lunch time the Colonel remarked casually that he had walked a littleway with Miss Layard, who mentioned that she had seen them--i.e., hisson and Miss Fregelius--struggling through the gale the other night.Then he watched the effect of this shot. Morris moved his chair andlooked uncomfortable; clearly he was a most transparent sinner. But onStella it took no effect.
"As usual," reflected the Colonel, "the lady has the most control.Or perhaps he tried to kiss her and she wouldn't let him, and aconsciousness of virtue gives her strength."
After luncheon the Colonel paid a visit to Mr. Fregelius, ostensibly totalk to him about the proposed restoration of the chancel, for whichhe, as holder of the great tithes, was jointly liable with the rector, aresponsibility that, in the altered circumstances of the family, he nowfelt himself able to face. When this subject was exhausted, which didnot take long, as Mr. Fregelius refused to express any positiveopinion until he had inspected the church, the Colonel's manner grewportentously solemn.
"My dear sir," he said, "there is another matter, a somewhat graveone, upon which, for both our sakes and the sakes of those immediatelyconcerned, I feel bound to say a few words."
Mr. Fregelius, who was a timid man, looked very much alarmed. Aconviction that the "grave matter" had something to do with Stellaflashed into his mind, but all he said was:
"I am afraid I don't understand, Colonel Monk."
"No; indeed, how should you? Well, to come to the point, it has to dowith that very charming daughter of yours and my son Morris."
"I feared as much," groaned the clergyman.
"Indeed! I thought you said you did not understand."
"No, but I guessed; wherever Stella goes things seem to happen."
"Exactly; well, things have happened here. To be brief, I mean that alot of silly women have got up a scandal about them--no, scandal is toostrong a word--gossip."
"What is alleged?" asked Mr. Fregelius faintly.
"Well, that your daughter threw over that young ass, Stephen Layard,because--the story seems to me incredible, I admit--she had fallenviolently in love with Morris. Further that she and the said Morris wereseen embracing at night on the Rectory road, which I don't believe, asthe witnesses are Layard, who is prejudiced, and his sister, who is themost ill-bred, bitter, and disappointed woman in the county. Lastly,and this is no doubt true, that they are generally on terms of greatintimacy, and we all know where that leads to between a man andwoman--'Plato, thy confounded fantasies,' etc. You see, when people situp singing to each other alone till two in the morning--I don't meanthat Morris sings, he has no more voice than a crow; he does theappreciative audience--well, other people will talk, won't they?"
"I suppose so, the world being what it is," sighed Mr. Fregelius.
"Exactly; the world being what it is, and men and women what they are, amost unregenerate lot and 'au fond' very primitive, as I daresay you mayhave observed."
"What is to be done?"
"Well, under other circumstances, I should have said, Nothing at allexcept congratulate them most heartily, more especially my son. But inthis case there are reasons which make such a course impossible. As youknow, Morris is engaged to be married to my niece, Miss Porson, and itis a contract which, even if he wished it, honour would forbid him tobreak, for family as well as for personal reasons."
"Quite so, quite so; it is not to be thought of. But again I ask--Whatis to be done?"
"Is that not rather a question for you to consider? I suggest that youhad better speak to your daughter; just a hint, you know, just a hint."
"Upon my word, I'd rather not. Stella can be so--decided--at times, andwe never seem quite to understand each other. I did speak to her theother day when Mr. Layard wished to marry her, a match I was naturallyanxious for, but the results were not satisfactory."
"Still, I think you might try."
"Very well, I will try; and, Colonel Monk, I cannot tell you how grievedI am to have brought all this trouble on you."
"Not a bit," answered the Colonel cheerfully. "I am an old student ofhuman nature, and I rather enjoy it; it's like watching the puppets on astage. Only we mustn't let the comedy grow into a tragedy."
"Ah! that's what I am afraid of, some tragedy. Stella is a woman whotakes things hard, and if any affection really has sprung up----"
"----It will no doubt evaporate with the usual hysterics and morningheadache. Bless me! I have known dozens of them, and felt some myself inmy time--the headaches, I mean, not the other things. Don't be alarmedif she gets angry, Mr. Fregelius, but just appeal to her reason; shewill see the force of it afterwards."
An hour or so later the Colonel started for a walk on the beach tolook at some damage which a high tide had done to the cliff. As hewas nearing the Abbey steps on his return he saw the figure of a womanstanding quite still upon the sands. An inspection through his eyeglassrevealed that it was Stella, and instinct told him her errand.
"This is rather awkward," he thought, as he braced himself to battle,"especially as I like that girl and don't want to hurt her feelings.Hullo! Miss Fregelius, are you taking the air? You should walk, or youwill catch cold."
"No, Colonel Monk, I was waiting for you."
"Waiting for me? Me! This is indeed an honour, and one which ageappreciates."
She waved aside his two-edged badinage. "You have been speaking to myfather," she said.
Instantly the Colonel assumed a serious manner, not the most serious,such as he wore at funerals, but still one suited to a grave occasion.
"Yes, I have."
"You remember all that you said?"
"Certainly, Miss Fregelius; and I assume that for the purposes of thisconversation it need not be repeated."
She bowed her head, and replied, "I have come to explain and to tell youthree things. First, that all these stories are false except that aboutthe singing. Secondly, that whoever is responsible for them has made itimpossible that I should live in Monksland, so I am going to London toearn my own living there. And, thirdly, that I hope you will excuse myabsence from dinner as I think the more I keep to myself until we goto-morrow, the better; though I reserve to myself the right to speak toMr. Monk on this subject and to say good-bye to him."
"She _is_ taking it hard and she _is_ fond of him--deuced fond ofhim, poor girl," thought the Colonel; but aloud he said, "My dear MissFregelius, I never believed the stories. As for the principal one,common sense rebels against it. All I said to your father was thatthere appears to be a lot of talk about the place, and, under thecircumstances of my son's engagement, that he might perhaps give you afriendly hint."
"Oh! indeed; he did not put it quite like that. He gave me to understandthat you had told him--that I was--so--so much in love with Mr. Monkthat on this account I had--rejected Mr. Layard."
"Please keep walking," said the Colonel, "or you _really_ will catchcold." Then suddenly he stopped, looked her sharply in the face, muchas he had done to Eliza, and said, "Well, and are you not in love withhim?"
For a moment Stella stared at him indignantly. Then suddenly he saw ablush spread upon her face to be followed by an intense pallor, whilethe pupils of the lovely eyes enlarged themselves and grew soft. Nextinstant she put her hand to her heart, tottered on her feet, and had henot caught her would perhaps have fallen.
"I do not think I need trouble you to answer my question, which, indeed,now that I think of it, was one I had no right to put," he said as sherecovered herself.
"Oh, my God!" moaned Stella, wringing her hands; "I never knew it tillthis moment. You have brought it home to me; you, yes, you!" and sheburst out weeping.
"Here are the hysterics," thought the Colonel, "and I am afraid that theheadache will be bad to-morrow morning."
To her, however, he said very tenderly, "My dear girl, my dear girl,pray do not distress yourself. These little accidents will happen in thebest regulated hearts, and believe me, you will get over it in a monthor two."
"Accident!" she said. "It is no accident; it is
Fate!--I see it allnow--and I shall never get over it. However, that is my own affair, andI have no right to trouble you with my misfortunes."
"Oh! but you will indeed, and though you may think the advice hard, Iwill tell you the best way."
She looked up in inquiry.
"Change your mind and marry Stephen Layard. He is not at all a badfellow, and--there are obvious advantages."
This was the Colonel's first really false move, as he himself feltbefore the last word had left his lips.
"Colonel Monk," she said, "because I am unfortunate is it any reasonthat you should insult me?"
"Miss Fregelius, to my knowledge I have never insulted any woman; andcertainly I should not wish to begin with one who has just honoured mewith her confidence."
"Is it not an insult," she answered with a sort of sob, "when a womanto her shame and sorrow has confessed--what I have--to bid her consoleherself by marriage with another man?"
"Now that you put it thus, I confess that perhaps some minds might sointerpret an intention which did not exist. It seemed to me that, aftera while, in marriage you would most easily forget a trouble which my sonso unworthily has brought on you."
"Don't blame him for he does not deserve it. If anybody is to blame itis I; but in truth all those stories are false; we have neither of usdone anything."
"Do not press the point, Miss Fregelius; I believe you."
"We have neither of us done anything," she repeated; "and, what is more,if you had not interfered, I do not think that I should have found outthe truth; or, at least, not yet--till I saw him married, perhaps, whenit would have been no matter."
"When you see a man walking in his sleep you do your best to stop him,"said the Colonel.
"And so cause him to fall over the precipice and be dashed to bits. Oh!you should have let me finish my journey. Then I should have come backto the bed that I have made to lie on, and waked to find myself alone,and nobody would have been hurt except myself who caused the evil."
The Colonel could not continue this branch of the conversation. Even tohim, a hardened vessel, as he had defined himself, it was too painful.
"You said you mean to earn a living in London. How?"
"By my voice and violin, if one can sing and play with a sore heart. Ihave an old aunt, a sister of my father's, who is a music mistress, withwhom I daresay I can arrange to live, and who may be able to get me someintroductions."
"I hope that I can help you there, and I will to the best of my ability;indeed, if necessary, I will go to town and see about things. Allow meto add this, Miss Fregelius, that I think you are doing a very bravething, and, what is more, a very wise one; and I believe that beforelong we shall hear of you as the great new contralto."
She shrugged her shoulders. "It may be; I don't care. Good-bye. By theway, I wish to see Mr. Monk once more before I go; it would be betterfor us all. I suppose that you don't object to that, do you?"
"Miss Fregelius, my son is a man advancing towards middle age. It isentirely a point for you and him to decide, and I will only say that Ihave every confidence in you."
"Thank you," she answered, and turning, walked rapidly down the lonelybeach till her figure melted into the gathering gloom of the winter'snight. Once, however, when she thought that she was out of eyeshot, hesaw her stop with her face towards the vast and bitter sea, and saw alsothat she was wringing her hands in an agony of the uttermost despair.
"She looks like a ghost," said the Colonel aloud with a little shiver,"like a helpless, homeless ghost, with the world behind her and theinfinite in front, and nothing to stand on but a patch of shifting sand,wet with her own tears."
When the Colonel grew thus figurative and poetical it may be surmised byanyone who has taken the trouble to study his mixed and somewhat worldlycharacter that he was deeply moved. And he was moved; more so, indeed,than he had been since the death of his wife. Why? He would have foundit hard to explain. On the face of it, the story was of a trivial order,and in some of its aspects rather absurd. Two young people who happenedto be congenial, but one of whom was engaged, chance to be throwntogether for a couple of months in a country house. Although thereis some gossip, nothing at all occurs between them beyond a littleperfectly natural flirtation. The young man's father, hearing thegossip, speaks to the young lady in order that she may take steps toprotect herself and his son against surmise and misinterpretation.Thereupon a sudden flood of light breaks upon her soul, by which shesees that she is really attached to the young man, and being a woman ofunusual character, or perhaps absurdly averse to lying even upon sucha subject, in answer to a question admits that this is so, and that shevery properly intends to go away.
Could anything be more commonplace, more in the natural order of events?Why, then, was he moved? Oh! it was that woman's face and eyes. Old ashe might be, he felt jealous of his son; jealous to think that for himsuch a woman could wear this countenance of wonderful and thrilling woe.What was there in Morris that it should have called forth this depth ofpassion undefiled? Now, if there were no Mary--but there was a Mary, itwas folly to pursue such a line of thought.
From sympathy for Stella, which was deep and genuine, to anger withhis son proved to the Colonel an easy step. Morris was that worst ofsinners, a hypocrite. Morris, being engaged to one woman, had takenadvantage of her absence deliberately to involve the affections ofanother, or, at any rate, caused her considerable inconvenience. He waswroth with Morris, and what was more, before he grew an hour older hewould let him have a piece of his mind.
He found the sinner in his workshop, the chapel, making mathematicalcalculations, the very sight of which added to his father's indignation.The man, he reflected to himself, who under these circumstances couldindulge an abnormal talent for mathematics, especially on Sunday, mustbe a cold-blooded brute. He entered the place slamming the door behindhim; and Morris looking up noted with alarm, for he hated rows, thatthere was war in his eye.
"Won't you take a chair, father?" he said.
"No, thank you; I would rather say what I have to say standing."
"What is the matter?"
"The matter is, sir, that I find that by your attentions you have madethat poor girl, Miss Fregelius, while she was a guest in my house, theobject of slander and scandal to every ill-natured gossip in the threeparishes."
Morris's quiet, thoughtful eyes flashed in an ominous and unusualmanner.
"If you were not my father," he said, "I should ask you to change yourtone in speaking to me on such a subject; but as things are I supposethat I must submit to it, unless you choose otherwise."
"The facts, Morris," answered his father, "justify any language that Ican use."
"Did you get these facts from Stephen Layard and Miss Layard? Ah! Iguessed as much. Well, the story is a lie; I was merely arranging herhood which she could not do herself, as the wind forced her to use herhand to hold her dress down."
The thought of his own ingenuity in hitting on the right solution of thestory mollified the Colonel not a little.
"Pshaw," he said, "I knew that. Do you suppose that I believed you foolenough to kiss a girl on the open road when you had every opportunity ofkissing her at home? I know, too, that you have never kissed her at all;or, ostensibly at any rate, done anything that you shouldn't do."
"What is my offence, then?" asked Morris.
"Your offence is that you have got her talked about; that you have madeher in love with you--don't deny it; I have it from her own lips. Thatyou have driven her out of this place to earn a living in London as bestshe may, and that, being yourself an engaged man"--here once more theColonel drew a bow at a venture--"you are what is called in love withher yourself."
These two were easy victims to the skill of so experienced an archer.The shaft went home between the joints of his son's harness, and Morrissank back in his chair and turned white. Generosity, or perhaps the fearof exciting more unpleasant consequences, prevented the Colonel fromfollowing up this head of his advantage.
"
There is more, a great deal more, behind," he went on. "For instance,all this will probably come to Mary's ears."
"Certainly it will; I shall tell her of it myself."
"Which will be tantamount to breaking your engagement. May I ask if thatis your intention?"
"No; but supposing that all you say were true, and that it _was_ myintention, what then?"
"Then, sir, to my old-fashioned ideas you would be a dishonourablefellow, to cast away the woman who has only you to look to in the world,that you may put another woman who has taken your fancy in her place."
Morris bit his lip.
"Still speaking on that supposition," he replied, "would it not be moredishonourable to marry her; would it not be kinder, shameful as it maybe, to tell her all the truth and let her seek some worthier man?"
The Colonel shrugged his shoulders. "I can't split hairs," he said,"or enter on an argument of sentimental casuistry. But I tell you this,Morris, although you are my only son, and the last of our name, thatrather than do such a thing, under all the circumstances, it would bebetter that you should take a pistol and blow your brains out."
"Very probably," answered Morris, "but would you mind telling mealso what are the exact circumstances which would in your opinion soaggravate this particular case?"
"You have a copy of your uncle Porson's will in that drawer; give itme."
Morris obeyed, and his father searched for, and read the followingsentence: "In consideration of the forthcoming marriage between hisson Morris and my daughter Mary, the said testator remits all debtsand obligations that may be due to his estate by the said Richard Monk,Lieutenant Colonel, Companion of the Bath, and an executor of thiswill."
"Well," said Morris.
"Well," replied the Colonel coolly, "those debts in all amountedto 19,543 pounds. No wonder you seem astonished, but they have beenaccumulating for a score of years. There's the fact, any way, sodiscussion is no use. Now do you understand? 'In consideration of theforthcoming marriage,' remember."
"I shall be rich some day; that machine you laugh at will make me rich;already I have been approached. I might repay this money."
"Yes, and you might not; such hopes and expectations have a way ofcoming to nothing. Besides, hang it all, Morris, you know that there ismore than money in the question."
Morris hid his face in his hands for a moment; when he removed them itwas ashen. "Yes," he said, "things are unfortunate. You remember thatyou were very anxious that I should engage myself, and Mary was so goodas to accept me. Perhaps, I cannot say, I should have done better tohave waited till I felt some real impulse towards marriage. However,that is all gone by, and, father, you need not be in the least afraid;there is not the slightest fear that I shall attempt to do anything ofwhich you would disapprove."
"I was sure you wouldn't, old fellow," answered the Colonel in afriendly tone, "not when you came to think. Matters seem to have gotinto a bit of a tangle, don't they? Most unfortunate that charming younglady being brought to this house in such a fashion. Really, it lookslike a spite of what she called Fate. However, I have no doubt that itwill all straighten itself somehow. By the way, she told me that sheshould wish to see you once to say good-bye before she went. Don't bevexed with me if, should she do so, I suggest to you to be very careful.Your position will be exceedingly painful and exceedingly dangerous, andin a moment all your fine resolutions may come to nothing; though I amsure that she does not wish any such thing, poor dear. Unless she reallyseeks this interview, I think, indeed, it would be best avoided."
Morris made no answer, and the Colonel went away somewhat weary andsorrowful. For once he had seen too much of his puppet-show.
Stella Fregelius: A Tale of Three Destinies Page 21