Speedwell

Chapter I

In the house of one of the great London doctors, at eleven o'clock on a cold, cheerless day in April, several people were waiting. The room where they sat was large and ugly. A few pictures hung on the walls, one of which was an excellent portrait of the doctor. The artist had caught his expression, and there was an amused twinkle in his eyes as he appeared to be looking down at his patients assembled there. On the chimney-piece stood a clock with the Brazen Serpent in the Wilderness over it, and a long inscription underneath, saying I SPEEDWELL 2 it had been presented in grateful recognition of the doctor's services in some time of great illness. Flardly anyone read it to the end. They knew he was clever, and had done wonders in curing people. For that very reason they had come to consult him, and each person was far too preoccupied with his or her own symptoms to care about a universal plague that had happened years ago.

Some were trying to be interested in perusing the papers and illustrated magazines strewn over the table. Each time the door opened they all anxiously looked round to see if their turn had come. This morning it seemed more and more came, and none went out. The servant, as he showed each fresh person in, did it with a triumphant air, as if he enjoyed their disappointment. It was getting quite odd, and some whispering began amongst those who knew each other as to what the reason could be. The mystery was soon solved, for a brougham dashed up to the door, and those near the windows could see through the coloured glass that the doctor himself had just arrived. SPEEDWELL 3 ' I thought so !' said a man to his delicate looking wife ; ' he's been called away to some case early, and is only just back ; but we were first, so he'll see you now, dear.' A lady sitting at the table remarked she'd been waiting more than an hour, and ' was not strong.' She turned appealingly to those around for sympathy, but they only stared at her for a second and resumed their reading without a word.

She had a curly-headed boy, about four years old, who had been patiently looking at pictures near his mother, but now he became restless and wriggled himself off his chair. Near by sat a fat old lady with an ear-trumpet, the long india rubber tube of which hung loosely over her arm. The child gently took hold of it, and said in a clear, high-pitched voice, looking up at her with his large blue eyes : ' Is that your skipping-rope ?' The mother clawed him back ; but most people smiled, for no one looked less like skipping than this old lady did. She smiled, too, and nodded at the child, not the least having heard his question. The servant now beckoned to the man SPEEDWELL 4 with his delicate wife ; at the same time there entered a fair-haired little woman with dark eyes and a wonderfully sweet expression.

She had brought a book with her, and was just going to take a seat by the fire, when a middle-aged lady advanced from the corner of the room to greet her. ' Miss Shirley, you here !' exclaimed the former in surprise. ' I thought you never felt ill, and despised doctors ?' ' This is fortunate, dear Eleanor,' said the older lady in a whisper, not heeding this remark ; ' I was going to write to-day. I want to persuade you to come and stay three weeks with me at Iver. It will do you good, for you are doing far too much, slaving away in that Westminster slum. You ought to have a holiday, and I want your society, so do come.' ' You are too kind ! I should like of all things to be with you quietly in the country before I begin my plunge into the dissipated world and take Frida out in May.' ' Your niece is coming to live with you, I hear.

That will, no doubt, be a great pleasure to you.' SPEEDWELL 5 The two friends conversed for a few minutes in a whisper, and then Miss Shirley was called away to see the doctor, and the other was soon engrossed in her book. Eleanor Vivian had been a widow many years, and was now past thirty, but both in face and figure looked ten years younger than she was. She read for nearly an hour, and then for the first time began to look round the room and wonder if she would be the last. There was no one left except a tall good-looking young man with dark hair, leaning on his umbrella staring absently before him on the carpet, and a young girl in black at the other end of the room. Again the door opened, the servant signed to the girl to come away, whilst an elderly lady with gray hair came in and sank into the chair next to the man.

She could not speak ; her face was contorted with the effort of restraining her tears ; it was piteous to see her grief. The man took hold of her hand in both his, and said tenderly : ' He's told you very bad news, darling mother, I can see. I am so sorry ; what is the matter with her ?' SPEEDWELL 6 After a minute or two of wrestling with her emotion, she said : ' It's the same as your aunt Carry had.' ' I feared so,' he said, and looked into her face with infinite concern and pity. ' There's no immediate danger ; it may be years ' And then she quite broke down, and hid her face in her handkerchief. Her son bent over her and whispered some thing, and then left to call a cab. Eleanor Vivian, who was tenderness and sympathy itself, felt so grieved for her. She longed to go near and say, ' I, too, have suffered.

I, too, know what it is suddenly to be told there's no hope — it is an illness ending in death. 1 had a brother, and, oh, how I loved him !' But how could she say this to an utter stranger? No, it would pro bably only annoy. Yet had this sorrow been that of a poor orange-woman in the street, crying her eyes out thus, she would not have hesitated to grasp her hand and say all this to her, and it would have com forted. Why did it make such a difference just because they were both ladies ? Eleanor had no time to think it all out, SPEEDWELL 7 for she was now called away hastily, but as she entered the doctor's inner chamber her eyes were full of tears. He saw it at once. ' What is the matter, Mrs. Vivian ?' he asked. ' Oh, nothing — only that lady who left you just now is so unhappy.' 'Ah, poor thing, yes!

Mrs. Cameron. Came to ask about her sister — a very sad case. But now let me look at you ; turn to the light. Why, you look younger every time I see you, Mrs. Vivian ! But you're tired to-day ; you've been doing too much again. You need not tell me, I know it. You want a tonic and country air. Let me see, it was ten days ago I saw you last. I hope you remember what I said ?' and while he wrote a prescription he asked, ' What did I say ?' She smiled. ' That my heart was not very strong, but quite good enough for all ordinary purposes of life.' He shook his head. ' There's nothing wrong about you, but you must not overtax your strength. Now SPEEDWELL 8 go into the country at once, that's my advice,' and he folded and handed her the prescription, and continued : 'Just now I saw your friend Miss Shirley; how pleasant she is !

One of those people whose heart and mind never grow old. I am so sorry I cannot get away at Whitsuntide to pay her a visit, as she kindly asked me to, but it's quite impossible.' He opened the door for her to go, and as he did so his keen eyes swept over her whole little figure once more before he closed it again, saying to himself : ' I always wonder why that pretty little woman has not married again.' She had not married again for two reasons. Her first venture had been very miserable, therefore she was quite resolved to consider marriage was a mistake. Then, she had never come across any man who had made her change her mind. Two men had admired and made up to her ; one had proposed and been refused, the other soon became aware of her indifference, and never asked her. Yet she was capable of very deep devotion SPEED WELL 9 and love, but had spent it all on her relations and friends, who in return were devoted to her.

She was of an impulsive, impression able, and sentimental nature. Very sensitive, she felt acutely sorrow or happiness, even in things that to most people appeared trifles. As a girl, before she had experienced any sorrow, this temperament had prevented her ever feeling that exuberance of spirits and joyousness in existing which is natural in healthy youth. A few days after seeing the doctor she went to pay her promised visit to Miss Shirley, in Buckinghamshire. She found her quite alone, in a large vaulted hall panelled with oak. It was a charming old-fashioned room, with three large windows, looking on to the garden terraces, with clipped yew hedges that set off the beds of brilliant tulips in front of them. There are houses that as you enter give at a glance a clear impression of the inner life of its occupants.

The very atmosphere in some cases seems full of affectionate welcome and peace, giving the feeling at once that one will be the better for being in such surroundings. SPEEDWELL 10 On other occasions, on the contrary, there is an overwhelming presentiment that fussy dis content and quarrels are common in the house, and that however much it may be disguised in company, it does exist, and underlies all the attempts at gaiety and wel come, ready to crop up in a moment and make life miserable. Iver Manor, however, was one of the first kind of dwellings described. Miss Shirley was of a genial and happy disposition herself, and she had always managed to live har moniously with those around her, and to make the days pass pleasantly for them and for herself. Unlike her younger friend, she was very matter-of-fact, had no illusions, and took things as they came.

She always saw people and things just as they were, but no better, and thus had few disappointments. ' How nice it is having you all to myself!' said Eleanor, as she embraced Miss Shirley on arriving. ' No company for you to enter tain. You will have to talk to me and read to me in the evening, as you did so charm ingly last year.' ' Yes, it will be pleasant, dear Eleanor, to SPEEDWELL 11 be alone together for a time ; but in ten days I expect a few people here for Whitsun tide.' The time they were alone slipped away very quickly ; there were Miss Shirley's alms houses to visit, besides an orphanage close by ; also a school treat and a penny reading — or, rather, a penny concert — in which Eleanor was to take part. She liked nothing better than helping Miss Shirley in all these village concerns.

She had great experience in such matters, and always put her whole soul into whatever she was doing for the time. But on days when Miss Shirley was occu pied with household matters, she would go and sit alone reading in the library, or else wander about the garden. There was a favourite seat of hers near a sundial, backed by a high yew hedge. From this spot, on very clear days, one could see Windsor Castle in the far distance. Once whilst sitting here she almost wished she had settled to live in the country, and had not bought a London house. It was such a charming, peaceful life here, with SPEEDWELL 12 plenty of occupation amongst the poor ; but in good pure air, not in the unwholesome courts and alleys where she visited when in London. Then she thrust the thought away from her as selfish.

She remembered her resolve to take out her orphan niece Elfrida Trevor this summer, and for this a London house was a necessity. She also recalled the different poor people in Westminster that she knew intimately and was interested in. How they would miss her if she gave it all up and went to the country ! No ; while she was young she would go on as she had done hitherto. By-and-by, perhaps, when Frida married, and she herself had grown to Miss Shirley's age, she would take life more easily, and live in a small house in the country. For the present, at any rate, she would enjoy these days of comparative idleness thoroughly ; and she leant back on the garden-seat in a long day-dream, looking under a row of elms in front of her, right away over the woods and fields to the hazy castle that rose in the blue distance.

In some ways it was happier for her to be with a friend like Miss Shirley, unmarried, SPEEDWELL 13 yet cheerful and perfectly contented, than to be with her sister, Lady Frome, with whom she stayed part of the year in Wiltshire. There she saw continually before her eyes such perfect wedded happiness — Sir Gerald and her sister were all in all to each other ; and though hers was so unselfish a nature that she was incapable of feeling envy, yet sometimes thoughts of what might have been for herself arose before her mind — that is, what might have been had she married a man who had loved her as her sister was loved. Then, at least, the seven years of her married life would have been bliss, though of short duration. Oh, how hard it w-as that she should never have known such love and devotion !

There was a print of some modern picture called ' Golden Hours ' that hung in Miss Shirley's boudoir. She had once stood looking at it for some minutes. It represented a young woman sitting at the piano, and a man resting his arms on the instrument in rapt attention. It was evident by the expression on his face that he was both taking in the music and all the purity and beauty of the woman's soul revealed in it. ' Golden hours, SPEEDWELL 14 indeed !' she thought, ' wherein two souls — harmony and love — were united in one.' But such hours would never be hers ; and she turned away from the picture, and avoided looking towards it again. On the afternoon of the day before Whit- Sunday, when Miss Shirley's guests were to arrive, Eleanor and she had been busy rearranging the pretty hall, which was always used as the sitting-room in the day-time until after dinner, when they sat in the drawing room, as it was more easily lighted, not being panelled with oak.

Miss Shirley declared the furniture in the hall had got into an old-maidish groove, not at all suitable to the people expected. There should be many more comfortable corners to sit in. She stood looking at the result of their labours, and then exclaimed : ' Don't put that little buhl table there, Eleanor, for Blanche Freke will come sailing through that door with her long train, dressed for dinner, and is sure to upset it.' They both walked to the other end of the room to have another view. SPEEDWELL ■5 ' See, Eleanor dear, how you've helped me. The room looks quite different, and very much better. Come !' she added, ' let us go and sit in the porch till they arrive ; it will be sheltered there, and it's not cold this afternoon.' So saying, she opened the door leading into the porch, and lifted the fishing-net, hung curtain-wise to keep the tame doves out, so that it should not intercept their view of the garden.

They were both glad to sit and rest here in the sunshine, looking out on the beds of wallflowers and hyacinths that scented the air all around them. Presently Eleanor asked : ' Is Lady Blanche the same attractive woman she was? I've not seen her since her marriage.' ' She s always the same affected, insincere woman, and nothing changes about her ex cept the colour of her hair. That, I own, really startles my old - fashioned notions. Once it was dark brown, almost black.' ' Was it ? I never remember her hair, except as fairish, with perhaps a red tinge.' ' No ; because when you married and went SPEEDWELL 16 to India, I remember, she was in the school room, a tall, pale, dark-haired girl, with nothing very attractive about her except her brown eyes and her voice. I'm afraid she bullies her step-daughter a good deal.' There was a bell that rung violently. 'Already!

Who can it be?' asked Eleanor. ' Perhaps Mr. Nation, my friend whom I have often talked to you about ; but let us wait, he will come, and it is so enjoyable sitting here.' So saying, Miss Shirley pulled out another straw chair towards them. ' We need not go in till the others come.' Two men came through the door behind them. One was almost still a boy, Miss Shirley's nephew, Frank Ward, and the other a tall clergyman of forty-three, with preternaturally gray hair, but good-looking, with smooth face and dark eyebrows. ' I picked up Nation on the road, Aunt Mary ; he was walking.' When Mr. Nation had been introduced to Eleanor, he turned to Miss Shirley and said : ' I had a note from your Vicar, Dowden ; SPEEDWELL 17 he has asked me to preach to-morrow. He has lost his voice suddenly, and I walked round by his house to assure him I would do so with pleasure.

As you have asked me kindly for Whitsuntide, I told him I should be quite handy.' 'Mr. Dowden lost his voice!' exclaimed Miss Shirley, astonished. 'Why, only two days ago he was singing a duet w7ith Mrs. Vivian at the penny reading.' ' What was the name of your song ?' asked Ward of Eleanor. ' " Two little dicky-birds," a child's song,' she answered, laughing. ' And now he croaks like a raven,' laughed Ward. Miss Shirley said, ' I'm sorry ; I had hoped, Mr. Nation, you were going to have a real holiday.' They sat talking for a short time, and then, as the door-bell sounded again, Miss Shirley led them into the hall for tea. At the same time the servant announced Colonel and Lady Blanche and Miss Freke, and Miss Chuckle, Captain Temple, and Mr. Cameron. SPEEDWELL Lady Blanche came forward in a long mauve cloak, with both hands extended. ' How kind of you, dear Miss Shirley, to send the carriage to meet us ! we've had a delightful drive.' There was something in her manner as she thus entered the room that reminded one of the stage, and gave one an instinctive wish to clap and applaud her appearance.

She wore a feathered hat with a spotted veil, which she kept down all the time. Her pale cheeks she had left long ago in the school room, for nothing could be more brilliant than her colouring now. She shook hands with Eleanor with the sweetest smile, which, however, came and vanished in a moment. When her face was in repose there was rather a hard and malevolent expression round the corners of her mouth. Mr. Cameron was the only stranger to Eleanor, but when he came to the tea-table she recognised him at once as the young man whom she had seen in the doctor's waiting-room trying to comfort his mother. He was introduced to her, but he evidently was SPEEDWELL 19 not aware he had met her before. He seemed even younger to her than that day, for he was much more cheerful, and soon he and Ward were laughing together like old friends.

Then Eleanor heard Lady Blanche, in her peculiar velvety voice, asking after his aunt. A very sad expression came over his face as he answered : ' Thanks, she's rather better ; my mother has taken her home to Glenalvie.' He was a Highlander, and this was just perceptible by his pronunciation of certain words ; but it was rather pretty than other wise. Soon there was quite a buzz of conversation, accompanied by a comfortable clatter of cups and spoons, as they all sat round their genial hostess at the tea-table. After a time the men strolled out into the garden, led by Ward. Miss Shirley offered to show Lady Blanche and the girls up to their rooms, but turned to Eleanor before she did so, and said : ' I'm expecting one more man — Mr. Raw linson ; do talk to him if he comes while I'm away.' Then she whispered, ' I forgot the SPEEDWELL 20 whisky for Charlie Freke — must run down to the cellar again ; I shan't be long.' ' What sort of a man ?

Tell me, that I may know what to talk about,' asked Eleanor, laughing. ' Oh, well, attache at Rome, quite young, twenty-five ; his poor mother was a great friend of mine. You'll see he's got plenty to say,' she answered hurriedly, and, pulling out a huge key from a drawer in her bureau and thrusting it into her pocket, followed Lady Blanche, whose voice could be heard on the stairs in ecstasies over some Dresden china there was in a bracket. Eleanor went towards the windows and saw the men still standing on the terrace, smoking and talking, all except Mr. Nation, who was walking towards the American garden — going to inspect the new bee hives, she guessed. She thought he seemed rather pleasant, and perhaps so was Mr. Cameron also ; otherwise, she mused, as she turned away from the window, she should not have much in common with Miss Shirley's guests.

Maria Chuckle she had known in Wiltshire, and did not care for ; SPEEDWELL 21 Lady Blanche, however, sang well — that would amply make up for any slight feeling of antipathy she felt towards her. She took up a newspaper, and sat down in one of the corners she and Miss Shirley had so carefully arranged before. Presently the servant showed in Mr. Rawlinson ; she rose at once to shake hands and explain that Miss Shirley would return directly. Without being good-looking, he had a very interesting countenance, gray eyes full of changing light, auburn hair, and pointed beard, and in appearance was about thirty. He began talking at once in a peculiarly melo dious voice about the beauty of the country round Iver, and asked her how long she had been there, and what she thought of the garden, and did she admire the view from near the sundial ?

When she told him it was her favourite seat, he said : ' I don't wonder ; it's a charming spot ; if one could write poetry, one's inspiration would come there, I think. It is not only ail one can see, but the sound of the little splash ing fountain behind the yew hedge, and the church bells when they peal, to say nothing SPEEDWELL 22 of the wild birds singing, and the cooing of Miss Shirley's doves, that make it perfectly delightful to sit there on a summer's day.' ' Perhaps you have written poetry ?' she asked with a smile. ' Not I ; but I've sat there many times reading all I could get hold of, one summer when I had a fever and Miss Shirley kindly asked me here to recruit.' Then he asked her which poet she liked best, and they discussed some of the new books, and from them they had just begun to speak about Miss Shirley's library, when that lady returned.

Rawlinson rose quickly from the low chair he had been sitting on, and greeted her by saying : ' I am so glad to see you again, Miss Shirley ! I thought it so kind of you to ask me immediately on my return to England, and I assure you on my arrival here just now, as the tapestry curtain of the front-door was drawn aside, I felt quite a flood of happy memories gush out to welcome me, and fill me with anticipation of the delightful days I know are in store for me here.' SPEEDWELL 23 The charm of his manner and voice added greatly to the pleasant things he said. The ribbons in Miss Shirley's cap almost fluttered with pleasure as, with beaming face, she said : ' Well, I hope, my young friend, you will not be disappointed. How well and strong you're looking now !' Then she added, laughing, ' And you have not lost the power of saying pretty things to old ladies !

Do you remember how I used to tease you about that ?' ' I only remember your kindness to me when a wretchedly seedy youth, and how pleasant you were each evening reading and talking to me.' Eleanor had slipped away as the dressing bell rang, and now he asked : ' Who was the young lady who received me ?' ' Mrs. Vivian, a widow,' she answered ; ' and now you must dress for dinner ; you know your way — the same little chocolate room.' 'Ah,' he laughed, 'that dear little cham ber, with the Greuze over the chimney-piece, and the Japanese idol in the corner!' SPEEDWELL 24 ' What a memory you have !' ' Yes, for everything at Iver.' Rawlinson had lost his father soon after his birth. Being an only child, his mother had loved him intensely, but, like the intellectual and wise woman she was, had never spoilt him.

Until her death, in his twenty second year, they had been constant com panions during the intervals when he was not at school. Their tastes and interests being the same, always talking openly to each other on most subjects, the confidence between them had been so complete that she had been more like an elder sister to him. Never selfish or jealous in her affection, she had encouraged and welcomed to their house his boyish companions as well as her older friends ; thus his character had been early formed, and he was popular both with men and women. From the fact of his mother having been so charming a person, he was somewhat fastidious, and much preferred older women to the ordinary young lady, who generally bored him immensely.

Chapter II

At breakfast next day, after everyone had discussed whether they should get to church dry7, as there were showers with but short intervals of sunshine, Captain Temple remarked : ' You're going to preach, Nation, I hear. We are sure to catch it pretty hot, eh ? Have some of these devilled kidneys to begin with — now do !' ' I have heard such an excellent man at St. Fillen's, in Murray Square,' remarked Cameron to Eleanor. ' High Church or Low ?' she asked ' Oh, medium ; but in preaching he's a regular scorcher, I can assure you.' Mr. Nation laughed quietly. [»5 ] SPEEDWELL • I can't promise to please you and Temple, but I'll do my best.' Rawlinson asked Eleanor if she knew there was a short cut to church through the farm yard and a field. ' No,' she said ; 'I've always gone through the lodge and on the road.' ' You won't care to go over the grass, because of sitting in church in damp things ; but if you don't mind, we might return that way.

There's a pretty view, and also rather a fine old oak, that's worth seeing.' ' I shall like that very much,' she said. ' Oh yes, do let us return that way,' said Lady Blanche. ' 1 know it well ; there's a charming thatched cottage, I remember, near the stile at the foot of the hill.' The weather was kind, and they got to church dry, walking through Miss Shirley's lovely garden past the clipped yew hedges, and beds full of spring flowers in the height of their beauty, out by the lodge, down a long narrow lane between high hedges, then across a village green to a little ideal country church with a spire, among elms and oaks in the valley. SPEEDWELL 27 The church inside was pretty and simple, and so was the service and the singing. Then Mr. Nation mounted the pulpit, and gave out the text. No one listened to it, except perhaps Miss Shirley.

Lady Blanche was leaning back in the pew trying to get her head out of the sun's rays. Colonel Freke shut his eyes either because of the strong light or to listen better. Captain Temple had a tickling in his throat, and his whole attention was taken up with the almost impossible task of coughing silently7. Eleanor Vivian was thinking still of the lrymn, ' I heard the voice of Jesus say,' that had just been sung, and she wan dered long and far away in her thoughts to another church in Wiltshire, where last she had heard it sung by her four pretty nieces, and she was seeing them now in her mind's eye as they had then stood, four little girls dressed alike, with happy, innocent faces, knowing yet nothing of the weariness of which they sang. She might have dreamt on thus through the whole sermon, had it not been that sud denly she was conscious of Rawlinson's eyes SPEED WELL resting upon her.