“What! you again, Woodham?”
“Yes, sir,” said the woman,
in her quiet, grave way. “The time soon
passes. Every three hours.”
“Humph! six o’clock,”
said Gartram, looking at her uneasily, as she shook
up the bottle and poured out the accustomed dose.
“Bah! Filthy! Sugar.”
There was a lump laid on the little
tray, and the big strong man took it as hurriedly
as a schoolboy.
“Shall I bring the medicine here at nine, sir?”
“No; those gentlemen will be
here smoking, perhaps. Put the next dose in
the glass, and leave it on the chimney-piece.
I’ll take it when I come in.”
“I beg your pardon, sir; but will you remember
it?”
“Of course; if I don’t,
you can remind me. I don’t want to have
to be taking stuff before visitors, do I?”
Sarah Woodham shook up the medicine,
poured out another glassful, placed it on the mantelpiece
as directed, and left the room.
Half-an-hour later, the doctor and
Glyddyr arrived together, and were received by Claude,
Gartram not being quite dressed.
Five minutes later he came down and
hurried into the study, taking out his key as he crossed
the room.
“Hallo, little lady,”
he said sharply, as he found Mary standing by the
fireplace with a wine glass in her hand; “what
are you doing here?”
“I was only looking round, uncle,”
she said quickly, “to see that everything was
left straight. You’ll have the coffee brought
in here, I suppose, after dinner?”
“Yes, of course,” he said
rashly; “but you ought to be in the drawing-room.
What are you doing with that glass?”
“It is a dirty one, uncle,”
said the girl, in a hurried manner; “I was going
to take it away.”
“You please to put it back,
and don’t meddle with things in my room.”
“I’m very sorry, uncle
dear,” she said; and replacing the glass quickly,
she hurried out of the room.
“I mustn’t forget that,”
said Gartram, as he opened the cabinet in which he
kept his cigars, and then joined his guests in the
drawing-room.
Five minutes after, dinner was announced,
and Glyddyr took in Claude, who trembled as she felt
what a quiet, respectful manner he had adopted, and
how it seemed to indicate a feeling of satisfied assurance
that, sooner or later, she would be his.
It was impossible to be quite calm
under the circumstances; but she strove hard to keep
away all such thoughts, and, in her quality of mistress
of the house, did the honours of the table admirably,
till it was time to rise and leave the gentlemen to
their wine.
“We sha’n’t sit
very long, Claude,” said Gartram; “and
after a cigar, we shall want some music.”
“Yes, papa,” said Claude
gravely; and she moved toward the door, which Glyddyr
had hurried to open, fixing his eyes upon her in a
dreamy, pleading way as she went out, and making her
catch Mary’s arm nervously as soon as they were
alone.
“Mary, dear,” she said
excitedly, “if it were not for papa’s health,
I should run away to aunt’s, and stay there.
This man seems so persistent, and his quiet way thoroughly
frightens me.”
“Sapping and mining, instead of bold assault,”
said Mary.
“Shall I ever be such a coward as to consent?”
“Bah! How do we know what
may not happen long before it is time to be obliged
to say yes.”
“Nothing seems likely to happen
to set aside my father’s wishes,” sighed
Claude.
“Ah, you don’t know.
It is the unexpected which they say always happens.
So we are to sing to-night?”
“Yes. Is anything the matter with you,
Mary, dear?”
“With me?” was the reply,
with a forced laugh. “How absurd, dear.
No, of course not; nothing. Why, Claude, you
are making your great eyes look goggles. You
don’t think I have done anything, do you?”
“I don’t think you can
be well, Mary, dear,” said Claude, taking her
hand and kissing her brow; “why, your hands are
cold and your forehead quite hot.”
“Of course they are. Haven’t we
just had dinner?”
Claude looked at her wearily, but
her cousin laughed in a quick, excited way, and crossed
to the canterbury to begin turning over the music.
“They’ll soon be here now,” she
said.
But there did not seem to be much
prospect of the gentlemen coming, for in a very few
minutes after they were left alone, Gartram passed
on the claret jug.
“Wine, gentlemen,” he
said. “Asher, you would prefer a glass
of old port?”
“Indeed, no, my dear sir; nothing
more for me. I have to ask you to excuse me
soon.”
“What!” cried Gartram.
“For about half-an-hour. A patient.”
“What a nuisance!” said Gartram.
“Must you go?”
“Without fail.”
“Then come in the study and have a cup of coffee
and a cigar first.”
“To be sure. I am with you there.”
Gartram threw open the door; they
crossed the hall and entered the study, where a shaded
lamp was burning, the window, wide open, and the soft
subdued light of the moon, as it rose slowly over the
glistening sea, flooded the room.
“What a glorious night!”
said the doctor, as he went to the table, filled a
cup with coffee, and then took a cigar and cut off
the end before looking round, and then walking to
the chimney-piece, while Glyddyr threw himself in
a chair and began to help himself.
“Give me a cup too, my dear
boy,” said Gartram, as he took a cigar.
“Doctor does not cut down my smoking yet.
No matches?”
“All right; here they are on
the chimney-piece,” said the doctor, and as
he spoke the flame of the little wax match gave his
face a peculiar aspect in the dim room. “But,
hallo! What have we here? Secret drinking.
What is this?” and, as he spoke, he took up
a glass standing on the chimney-piece.
“Secret drinking, indeed!”
grunted Gartram. “It’s your confounded
tonic, put there ready for me to take by-and-by.”
“A thousand pardons,”
said the doctor, coming forward and taking up his
coffee, while Glyddyr lay back in an easy-chair, gazing
at the dimly-seen glass upon the mantelpiece, and
smoking thoughtfully.
“You’ve no light, Glyddyr,”
said Gartram, rising and going to the chimney-piece,
where, with his back to his guests, he took up the
wine glass, but uttered an impatient ejaculation,
set it down again, and took up the match stand, which
he placed beside Glyddyr, and then tossed off his
coffee. “What do you say to finishing our
smoking out on the terrace?”
“To be sure; yes,” said
the doctor. “A most glorious night.”
He moved with his host toward the
open French window, where the two men stood for a
few moments darkening the room, and looking like two
huge silhouettes to Glyddyr, as he lay back in his
chair with his cigar half out.
Then suddenly Gartram turned and looked
at him with a peculiar smile.
“You won’t join us, I suppose?”
he said.
“I thanks if you will
excuse me,” said Glyddyr, in a faltering voice.
“Excuse you, my dear boy? of
course. Come along, Asher, the sea looks lovely
from the upper seat.”
Glyddyr’s whole manner changed,
and grew cat-like in its quick, soft movements as
the pair walked away from the window along the granite
terrace, Gartram’s boots creaking loudly as they
walked.
There was a death-like silence then
in the room, which made Glyddyr’s long-drawn,
catching breath sound strangely loud as he rose from
his seat and walked silently over the thick carpet
to stand listening by the window, his figure in turn
looking perfectly black against the moonlight; and
as he stood there, from outside there came the low
murmur of the men’s voices, and from the house,
all muffled, the music of the piano in the drawing-room.
With a quick, gliding movement Glyddyr
walked to the chimney-piece, thrusting his hand into
his breast-pocket. Then, taking up the glass,
he crossed to the window, and with a quick movement
threw its contents sharply away, the liquid breaking
up into a tiny sparkling shower in the soft yellow
moonlight, and then it was gone.
Quickly and silently Glyddyr stole
back to the chimney-piece, and replaced the glass.
There was a faint, squeaking noise, as of a cork
being removed from a phial, then the tap of glass upon
glass, a faint gurgling, and another tapping of glass
upon glass, as if his hand trembled.
A low, catching sigh followed, then
a repetition of the faint squeak of the cork, and
Glyddyr once more moved towards the window, satisfied
himself that the others were nowhere near, and then
he drew back a little, extended his arm behind him,
and hurled the little phial away with all his might.
There was the quick rustle and jerk
of clothes, then silence; then a faint sound, and
Glyddyr drew a long breath, as if of satisfaction as
he felt that all had gone as he wished, and the bottle
had shivered to atoms on the rocks far below, while
the next tide would cover the fragments, and wash
them into crevices among the granite boulders as it
destroyed all trace of the contents.
Glyddyr stood thinking for a few moments,
and then he gulped down his coffee, and went out into
the hall, which he crossed, hesitated again for a
few minutes, and then entered the drawing-room, where,
as the door closed, a low fresh murmuring arose, and
was succeeded a minute later by the sound of the piano
and Claude’s voice, which came sweet and pure
to the hall, as a portiere was drawn aside,
and the dark figure of Sarah Woodham came forward
into the light.
She stood listening by the drawing-room
door for a few minutes, and then her dress rustled
softly as she went across to the study, listened,
tapped lightly, turned the handle and entered, closing
the door after her.
The murmur of voices came from the
terrace, and the woman replaced the coffee cups on
the silver tray, and was in the act of lifting it,
gazing out through the open window the while, but
she set the tray down again, walked to the window,
listened, and then went quickly to the chimney-piece.
Then there was an ejaculation that was almost a moan
as she raised the glass, and then, after listening
intently, she held it up to the light, uttered a piteous
sigh, and crossing quickly to the tray, emptied the
contents into one of the fresh-used coffee cups, and
replaced the glass on the chimney-piece. Then
once more there was the faint squeaking of a cork
in a bottle neck, the low gurgling of fluid being
poured out, the replacing of the cork; and as the woman
glided to the table, where the coffee tray remained,
the light of the moon shone upon her dark dress and
white apron, and showed her hurried movements as she
thrust a bottle into the pocket among the folds of
her dress.
A low sigh once more escaped her lips,
and she muttered softly as she took up the tray and
left the room.
“Not more than half an hour,”
said a voice, which echoed from the terrace wall,
and there were approaching steps.
“Make all the haste you can.
I’ll have my nap while you are gone. I
say, doctor.”
“Yes,” said Asher, pausing
in the moonlight by the open window.
“Don’t disturb them in the drawing-room.”
“No, no, I understand,”
said the doctor; and he stepped softly into the room,
smiling as he went to the table, helped himself to
a cigar, bit off and spat out the end, then took up
the match stand, struck a light, and walked slowly
across the room as he lit his cigar, stopping for a
few moments puffing heavily to get it well alight before
he set down the matches in their old place.
Five minutes after, Gartram’s
creaking boots were heard as he came along the terrace,
entered the room, went straight to the chimney-piece,
tossed off the contents of the glass, and then threw
himself in an easy-chair.
“There, Master Glyddyr,”
he said; “you have the field to yourself, and
you will not mind my having a nap.”
Claude played well, and after a little
entreaty she sang an old ballad, in a sweet low voice
that would have thrilled some men, but to which Glyddyr
listened in an abstracted way, as if his attention
was more taken up by what was going on without.
After a time the urn was brought in,
and Claude was about to rise from the piano, but Glyddyr
seemed to become all at once deeply interested, and
begged so very earnestly that she stayed, a duet was
produced, and Mary Dillon, directly after the prelude,
took the first part in a voice so clear and piercing,
so birdlike in its purity and strength, that for a
few moments the visitor sat gazing at her in admiration.
But he soon became abstracted again,
and as the final notes of the combined voices rang
out, he rose with a sigh, and walked to the window,
while Claude proceeded to make the tea.
“And never said `thank you,’”
whispered Mary. “Poor young man.
He is terribly in love.”
At that moment steps were heard passing
down the stone pathway toward the gate.
“Doctor Asher gone to give some
poor creature physic,” said Mary merrily; and
Glyddyr came slowly back toward the table.
“You will take some tea, Mr Glyddyr?”
said Claude.
“I? No, thanks; I rarely
take it,” he replied. “I’m
afraid I am rather a burden upon you two ladies, and
if you will excuse me I will go and have a chat with
Mr Gartram, as he is alone.”
“I am afraid you will not find
papa very conversational,” said Claude gravely.
“He will be having his after-dinner nap.”
“Ah, well, I shall not disturb
him. I will go and have a cigar.”
He left the room in a hurried way,
and as soon as the door was closed, Mary burst into
a merry fit of laughter.
“Mary!”
“Well, I can’t help it,
Claude,” she said. “Oh, how grateful
you ought to be to me. I have saved you from
no end of love-making. Did you see how wistfully
he kept on looking at us?”
“No,” said Claude, with a sigh of relief.
“But he did, dear. Talk
about the language of the eye; you could read his
without a dictionary. It was, `do go, my dear
Miss Mary. I do want a tete-a-tete with
Claude so very, very badly.’”
“Pray be silent, Mary.”
“Yes, dear, directly.
Mute as a fish; but it was such fun to watch his pleading
looks and refuse silently all his prayers for
your sake, darling. Remember that.”
“You are always good to me, Mary.”
“You don’t half know,
my dear. Then, after a time, a change came over
the man, and he grew cross. I could see him growling
mentally, and calling me names for a little crook-backed
female Richard the Third, and once I thought he was
going to kick me out of the door, or throw me out
of the window, for being such an idiot as to stay.”
“Mary, what nonsense you do talk.”
“It is not nonsense, dear.
Uncle kept the doctor out in the garden, so that
Mr Glyddyr could come and have a sweet little chat
with you; and I ought to have left the room, of course,
but, to oblige you, I sat here like an ice, and kept
the enemy at a distance. Oh, how he must hate
me!”
“Mary, dear, pray be serious.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll be serious
enough, dear. There, I am solidity itself; I
could not be better, I’m sure, when the enemy
approaches,” she whispered, as steps were once
more heard crossing the hall.
“Shall I go, dear? Perhaps I had better
now.”
She rose from her seat and set down
her cup, but Claude laid her hand upon the thin little
arm, and motioned towards a chair.
The door opened, and Glyddyr re-entered.
“I beg your pardon,” he
said; and the matter-of-fact man of the world seemed
to have quite lost his ordinary aplomb, and
came on in a quiet, hesitating way.
“I’m afraid I was very
rude leaving you like that,” he said; “and
I did not thank you for the duet.”
“We needed no thanks, Mr Glyddyr,” said
Claude gravely.
“No, no, of course not,”
he said. “I meant to thank you. Mr
Gartram is asleep, and if you will not think me rude,
I will go and sit in the study and smoke a cigar.”
“Pray do, Mr Glyddyr,”
said Claude; and he once more left the room.
“Well, I couldn’t have
believed it, Claudie. The lion completely tamed
by love. Why, my poor darling, you’ve turned
him from a sarcastic, sharp-tongued, clever London
society man to a weak, hesitating lover.”
“For goodness’ sake, don’t
talk like that, Mary,” cried Claude; for the
picture her cousin painted seemed to her terrible.
She literally shuddered at the idea of this man really
loving her, and sat looking aghast before her, while
Glyddyr went slowly back, so excited that the perspiration
oozed from his brow, and made him unconsciously take
out his pocket handkerchief to wipe the palms of his
hands.
Upon the first occasion he had strung
himself up and walked quickly to the study determined
to carry out his plans.
“It will only be a loan,”
he told himself; “only borrowing what is to be
my own some day, and he would never miss it.”
Closing the door behind him, and merely
glancing at the easy-chair in which Gartram lay back,
with his face in the shade, and his white shirt-front
standing out of the gloom like some peculiar creature,
Glyddyr walked to the mantelpiece, looked at the glass;
then crossed to the table, and began picking and choosing
from the cigars in the box, as in a furtive way he
listened to his host’s slow, heavy breathing,
and wondered whether he was sufficiently sound for
him to attempt to get his keys.
The breathing came very regularly,
and at last, after hesitating a great deal on the
selection of a cigar, he said aloud
“Where do you get your cigars, Mr Gartram?”
No reply; only the heavy breathing.
“I said where did you get your cigars?”
said Glyddyr, still more loudly.
“He must be safe,” he
thought to himself; and to make sure he walked carelessly
to the side of the chair, and gazed full in Gartram’s
face.
“He would have winced if there
had been any pretence,” he thought. And
then, “Pooh! what a fool I am.”
He glanced at the table in whose drawer
the keys reposed, looked at the great section of the
bookcase which swung round as upon a pivot, and then
he walked quickly to the window and looked out right
and left, listening the while to the beating of the
waves upon the rocky coast far below.
“While I am hesitating,”
he thought, “I might do it. The doctor
can’t be back yet, and no one is likely to come.”
There was a step outside.
He took a couple of strides, and then
sharply threw himself into an easy-chair near the
bookcase, and lay back in almost profound darkness,
for the rays of the moon cut right across from the
window, bathing the carpet with a soft light, but
leaving beyond the well-defined line a deep shadow.
He had hardly taken his place when
there was a faint tap at the panel of the door, the
handle turned, and, silent and ghastly-looking in the
gloom, Sarah Woodham came into the room, closed the
door behind her, and walked across to Gartram’s
chair.