by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XXX
ANNIE IN THE TOILS.
At seven the Achesons dined. Soon after eight o'clock there came a ringto the front door, and Rupert Colchester was announced. He came inlooking brisk, smart, and handsome. He had managed, Annie could notimagine how, to get himself up well. He wore a frock-coat of the newestcut, his tie was immaculate, so were his collar and cuffs. He had ahemstitched handkerchief in his pocket with a slight scent about it. Hishair had been cut, his face was clean-shaven; he was so good-lookingthat poor, foolish Annie felt a glow at her heart when she saw him enterthe room.
Mrs. Acheson was kind to Annie's brother, and Annie's brother managed tomake himself extremely agreeable. He talked to Mrs. Acheson, but helooked at Belle.
Now Belle, although she declared that there was no one in the world shedespised like a man in his first adolescence, was disturbed by theseglances from Rupert's dark eyes. She pretended not to remark them,nevertheless she found her own short-sighted orbs meeting his again andagain. After the fourth or fifth meeting of the two pairs of eyes Rupertgot up, left his seat by Mrs. Acheson, and came over to where Belle sat.
"Do you know," he said, dropping into a chair by her side, "that youinterest me immensely?"
"Indeed," answered Belle, "I am rather surprised to hear you say so. Inever yet knew the man who wanted to look at me a second time. I know Iam extremely plain, and the fact is I glory in being so."
"It is my turn now to be surprised," said Rupert very gently; "goodlooks are a great gift. You are quite mistaken in considering yourselfplain. However, it is not your coloring, nor the size of your mouth, northe shape of your face which specially strikes me; it is the remarkabledevelopment of your forehead. I spent several of my early years inAmerica, and I remember when there meeting a man with a forehead likeyours. He was the greatest classical scholar at Harvard College, nearBoston."
Belle could not help blushing with intense gratification.
"Ah," she said, "I also have the same tastes. I passionately love theclassics."
Rupert dropped his voice. He began to talk to Belle at once aboutCicero, Socrates, Homer, and her other favorite writers of antiquity.Soon they were in the full flow of a most animated conversation. Bellespoke eagerly and well; she unfolded the riches of her really greatknowledge, and Rupert cleverly led her on. He had a smattering of Greekand Latin at his fingers' ends, but no more. He managed, however, to usehis very little knowledge to the best advantage; and Belle was soflattered by his covert glances, by his skillfully veiled compliments,by his pretended comprehension of her and her moods, that she neverguessed how shallow were his acquirements, and opened out herself moreand more.
If Annie was nice, her brother was even nicer. He was the exception thatproves the rule. After all, there always was an exception--always,always.
A faint color came into her thin cheeks. Coffee was brought in, veryfragrant, strong coffee. A servant approached Belle with a tray, but shewaved it aside.
"Not now," she said. Then she turned to Rupert. "Why will mother alwaysinsist upon spoiling a great intellectual treat with those tiresomeattentions to creature comforts. Who wants coffee at a moment likethis?"
Now Rupert, who had not been able to indulge in a good dinner, wouldhave liked a cup of fragrant coffee immensely; but he instantly took hiscue from Belle, and declined it with a wave of the hand.
"None for me," he said. "Yes, Miss Acheson, I agree with you; at amoment like the present one cannot think of sublunary matters."
"Do go on," said Belle; "So you really studied----" And then once more theconversation assumed its classical complexion.
Annie, looking on from afar, felt more and more dreadful each moment.Rupert was undoubtedly trying to be agreeable to Belle for a purpose.Annie knew her brother quite sufficiently well to be certain thatBelle's manners, her attachment to the classics, her whole style, wouldbe the very last that Rupert, in easier moments of his career, wouldhave deigned to notice.
At last, soon after ten o'clock, he took his leave. In the meantime hehad learned, not only all that Belle could tell him of her own collegelife, but also the darling hope of the future. The little wooden boxwhich contained the eighty-nine pounds odd was pointed out to Rupert.
He nodded to Annie as he left the room. She followed him into the hall.
"Well, how did I get on?" he inquired.
"I don't understand you," answered Annie; "you frighten me dreadfully."
"What a little goose you are. Well, I'm coming again. I shall cometo-morrow or next day. Be sure you follow up the impression I have madewith the fair Belle." Then he made a grimace, kissed Annie lightly onher forehead, and left the house.
She went to bed feeling intensely uncomfortable. By the first post inthe morning she received a letter. It was from Rupert, and ran asfollows:
"My Dear Annie:
"For the desperate, only desperate devices. I am desperate. I have made up my mind. The fair and delightful Miss Belle shall be my deliverer. I want you and she to meet me in the Broad Walk in Regent's Park between four and five this afternoon. I mean boldly to secure forty pounds out of her wooden box. She herself shall give it to me. While I am talking to her you must be engaged in another way. Excellent! Get the good mamma to come too. You and the mamma can walk behind, the fascinating Belle and I in front. I foretell that I can twist my fair Belle round my little finger. Help me now, Annie, as you value your brother's future. You perceive how nobly I take the matter out of your hands. Miss Belle Acheson has her sphere in life, but it is not what she thinks. It is not to open a hostel for idiotic women who think themselves learned, but to help Rupert Colchester in his hour of need.
"Your Affectionate Brother."
Annie read this letter twice. At each perusal her sense of dismay grewgreater. The worst of it was, too, that Rupert had given no address. Shecould not write in reply, or send him a telegram, or do anything to stophim. He would walk in the Broad Walk in Regent's Park that afternoon,and if Annie and Belle did not appear would go boldly to the house inNewbolt Square. Annie felt that she herself was a guest in that housemore or less on false pretenses; but that Rupert should take advantageof Mrs. Acheson's hospitality was more than the poor girl could stand.
"I must have it out with him," she said to herself; "but Belle shall notcome with me. I must go and brave him alone. Oh, I know what he willsay, and what torture I shall have to endure; for, great sins as he hascommitted, I still love him. No. I will be brave now. I won't sin againfor him. But God help me, I do not know how to bear all this awfulburden."
The poor girl looked so miserable at breakfast that Mrs. Achesonremarked it.
"My dear child," she said, "do you know that your appearance quiteconcerns me? I am certain you are not well; I am also sure that you aretroubled about something. Have you no relations, dear, except thatextremely nice-looking brother of yours?"
"I have no relations at all," replied Annie, "except Rupert. My fatherand mother lived in America, where they died. I was quite a child when Icame to England. Since then Rupert and I have been practically alone. Wewere brought up during the early years of our life by a guardian, whohas since died."
"Well, at any rate, I congratulate you on your brother, Annie," saidBelle from the far end of the room, where she was reading Socrates. "Hehas what I call a pure taste for the classics. I shall be very pleasedindeed to see him here again. Mother, don't you agree with me that Mr.Rupert Colchester is a scholarly and gentlemanly man?"
"Yes, dear Belle, I do," said Mrs. Acheson. "Now, I tell you what itis," she said, turning in a confidential way to Annie, "you and yourbrother shall see as much of each other as possible while you are withme. If you will just give me his address I will send him a line askinghim to dine with us this evening. He feels leaving you so much."
"Leaving me?" said Annie. "Did he say anything about that?"
"Yes, my dear, when he goes to India, he says, you will feel the partingterr
ibly. He has secured an excellent post in the Civil Service, and hasto start in about a fortnight. Why, what is the matter, dear Annie?" forAnnie's eyes had dropped on to her plate and her face looked like death.
"I did not know that Rupert was going to India," she said at last,raising them desperately and fixing them on Mrs. Acheson.
"Perhaps he did not like to tell you, my love. From the way he spoke Irather judged that he had only just got his appointment. Of course youmust know in the end. He feels so very full of sympathy for you, Annie."
Annie got up. She made an excuse to leave the room; she felt that shecould not contain herself another moment.
"Give me his address, dear, before you go," said Mrs. Acheson. "I thinkit might be best for me to send him a telegram. Where is he staying?"
Annie turned, stood bolt upright, and uttered as if she was charging thewords out of a cannon:
"I don't know."
"You don't know where your brother is staying? That does seem strange.But has he no permanent address?"
"Dear me, mother," said Belle from the other end of the room, "does thatmatter? A man with Mr. Colchester's extensive tastes doubtless careslittle where he lays his head at night. He is, I presume, at one of thehotels. There are many hotels in London; have you not discovered thatyet?"
"I never thought of the hotels," said Mrs. Acheson in an apologeticvoice. "He did not happen to tell you which one he was staying at, mylove?"
"No," said Annie, "he did not."
"That is a pity."
"But," continued the young girl, "I can give him your invitation. It isvery kind of you to ask him. I had a letter from him this morning askingme to meet him in Regent's Park."
"Dear, dear!" said Mrs. Acheson; "of course he wants to tell you thisnews about India. Certainly, my love, you shall go; it will be quiteconvenient. And now, what do you say to having a nice drive? I think alittle fresh air would do you good. Belle, suppose you go for a drivewith Annie? I will send round to Marchand's for a landau. You might takeher to Richmond."
"Really, mother," answered Belle in a tart and injured voice, "do yousuppose I have time for such frivolity, for a drive with no objectwhatever except to inhale the air? Do you not understand that all mylife is mapped out, that each moment is lived by rule? This morning Iintend to make a careful study of my Greek grammar, as it is myintention to write an exhaustive essay on the characteristics of theAeolic dialect, with illustrations from literature."
Mrs. Acheson sighed, and rose hastily.
"You must do as you please, Belle, of course," she said.
"Certainly, dear mother, I intend to. If Annie likes, she can stay andhelp me, for she has quite a good taste in Greek, and a nice accent; butif, on the other hand, she prefers the utter inanity of a drive, why,surely you can go with her?"
"So I will," said Mrs. Acheson; "and I believe that Annie and I willenjoy the 'inanity,' as you call it, immensely. Annie, we will go toRichmond."
"So be it," said Belle. "I do not expect to see either of you until thisevening. I am off at once to my study. The Greek dialects, classified asIonian and non-Ionian, are full of the deepest interest."
She fled from the room in a sort of whirlwind, slamming the door afterher.
Mrs. Acheson looked at Annie.
"Belle is a dear, good creature," she said in a half-hesitating way;"but still it seems a pity."
"What?" asked Annie.
"That she should be quite so devoted to the dead languages. Surelythings of living moment are much more important?"
"Well, I happen to be very fond of the classics myself," answered Annie,"so I ought not to blame Belle; but she does go to the fair with thething, does she not?"
"It seems so to me, dear; but then I am, comparatively speaking, anignorant woman. We women of the last generation had not the advantageswhich you young creatures now receive. What Belle means by the Ionianand non-Ionian dialects I am absolutely ignorant about."
"It does not matter," said Annie gently.
"I agree with you; my love, it scarcely matters much; but your palecheeks and that anxious expression in your eyes matter a great deal. IfI can be of any use to you, Annie, understand that I shall be only toopleased."
"Do you mean it?" said Annie. She went up to Mrs. Acheson. The widowheld out her hand, which Annie clasped.
"Do you really mean it?" continued Annie.
"I do, my dear child. I wish you would tell me what really troublesyou."
"I long to confide everything to you," replied Annie, "but I dare not;please don't ask me. Let me be happy while I am here, and don't be--oh,don't be too kind!"
"What does the poor child mean?" thought Mrs. Acheson. She now laid herhand on Annie's shoulder, drew her to her side, and kissed her tenderlyon her forehead.
"I am drawn to you because you are a motherless girl," she said; "andwhenever you feel that you can give me your confidence I shall be onlytoo happy to receive it, and also, Annie, my dear, to respect it. I aman old woman, and have seen much of life; perhaps I could counsel you ifyou are in any difficulty."
"No, no; it may not be," said Annie in a whisper which nearly chokedher.
"Very well; we will say no more at present. I am going now to givedirections about the carriage."
At eleven o'clock an open landau was at the door, and Mrs. Acheson andAnnie went for their drive. It was a lovely summer's day, and Regent'sPark looked its best. Long years afterward Annie Colchester rememberedthat drive. The delightful motion of the easy carriage in which she wasseated, the soft breezes on her cheeks, Mrs. Acheson's kind andintelligent conversation returned to her memory again and again. Oh, whywas life so different for her to what it was for other girls! Oh, thatshe could confide in Mrs. Acheson! But then the knowledge that this goodwoman pitied her because she imagined that she was suffering from agirlish depression, or some other equally unimportant contretemps,caused her heart to rise with wild rebellion in her breast.
"If I could tell her the truth--the truth--would not her ears tingle andher heart beat," thought Annie to herself. "Good as she is, she is notthe person to help me in a great calamity of this sort. In her quiet,sheltered, prosperous life, what can she know of sorrows like mine? Oh,Rupert, why were you and I left alone in the world, and why--why did youturn out bad, and why do I love you so much?"
The drive was over, and the time arrived when Annie was to set off tomeet Rupert in Regent's Park. She arrived at the rendezvous a minute ortwo late, and he was already waiting for her. He still wore theimmaculate frock-coat, and looked quite the handsome, smart young man ofthe world; but when he saw Annie coming to meet him alone a heavy frowncompletely altered his expression, his lips took a sarcastic and evenmalignant curve. He went up to his sister and shook her by the shoulder.
"Now, what is the meaning of this?" he said.
But Rupert's very insolence made Annie brave.
"It means," she replied, "that I do not intend to do what you ask."
"You don't? You're a nice girl to help a fellow."
"I have made up my mind," continued Annie. "I won't ever do anythingwrong to help you again."
"Oh, you won't, won't you? Then listen--heartless girl. Don't you knowthat I have you completely in my power? If I were to tell what you didat Wingfield you could be arrested on a charge of forgery. There is anugly punishment accorded by the law to such proceedings."
"You cannot frighten me, Rupert," said Annie, much to the astonishmentof that gentleman, "for I have thought the whole thing carefully over.It would be quite impossible for me to be punished and for you to goscot-free; so, for your own safety, you will keep what you know in thedark. Now, the thing for you to consider is that I do not intend to helpyou to get any money from my friends, the Achesons."
Rupert was so much astonished at Annie's tone that for a moment he didnot reply. Then, all of a sudden, he changed his tactics. He ceased tobe furious, and became, in the poor girl's opinion, far more dangerous.He drew her hand through his arm and invited her to walk
with him. Hethen proceeded to sketch a most vivid and graphic picture of his ownsufferings, the extreme danger in which he stood, and the awful disgracewhich would fall upon Annie's devoted head when the law of the land tookits course upon him.
But Annie, for some reason which she did not quite understand herself,felt strangely strong that afternoon. Perhaps it was Mrs. Acheson'skindness; perhaps it was the thought of Leslie, and what Leslie enduredthrough Annie's former ill-doing. Even Belle, with all hereccentricities, had a perceptible influence upon Annie now.
"For all these good, these dear people look upon crime as animpossibility," thought the girl. "Now, Rupert seems to take it as theordinary course of existence. There is no saying; I may get to look atthings from his standpoint if I don't take care. I dare not; I willnever yield to his entreaties."
So, though he begged of her, and implored of her, and bullied her, andflattered her, though he used all his eloquence, Annie remained firm.
It was the first time in all Rupert's experience that he found her so,and it was the first time he thoroughly respected his sister. At the endof that interview he saw that if he was to get anything out of theAchesons he must do it in his own way.
"You have astonished and pained me," he said at last. "I never thoughtyou would desert me. Even in my darkest hour I have always thought'Well, at least there is Annie.' Now my hour of gloom has truly arrived,my black hour come, and I am only able to say 'Annie has deserted me.'"
"No," answered Annie, "I have not really deserted you; but I will notconsent to drag either you or myself any lower. I dragged you low enoughwhen I gave you that last money; I have lowered myself. I shall never bethe same again. I have also injured one of the best girls in the world.I bitterly repent of the sin which I committed. I am truly sorry forpoor Leslie. Now, Rupert, you know my decision."
"Yes, it is true what I have just said: you have utterly forsaken me."
"No; for I still love you."
"Oh, don't talk humbug, Annie!" said Rupert with an angry interjection."When you utter the word 'love' at such a moment like the present youmake me actually sick."
"I will not utter it again," said Annie; "but I can still feel it.Rupert, I will not do wrong for you. On that point I am firm. Now I mustleave you. Oh, by the way, Mrs. Acheson gave me a message for you. Shewished to know if you would dine with them this evening. Of course youwill not come. Under the circumstances it would be quite impossible; butyou may as well send back a polite message."
"Say, with my compliments, that I shall be heartily pleased to acceptthe invitation," answered Rupert.
"How can you dare?"
"Will you give the message? May I not accept my own invitation, or am Ito be beholden to you?"
"Well, come if you like," said poor Annie. "I cannot quarrel with younor argue with you any longer. Come if you wish to do so; but plainlyunderstand that, if you attempt to ask Belle Acheson to lend you anymoney, I shall immediately tell the entire truth to Mrs. Acheson."
"I believe you; you are turning into a perfect little fiend. Well, atany rate expect me at dinner time."