Sprig Muslin

Chapter 15

Sir Gareth, opening his eyes on unfamiliar surroundings, wondered where he was. He appeared to be lying in an attic, which seemed very odd, though not of any great importance. He considered the matter idly, and next discovered that something was wrong with his left shoulder. He tried to bring his other hand to feel it, but found that the effort was too much for his strength. Also, which was strange, he was very tired. Decidedly something must be wrong, he thought, unperturbed, but puzzled. He turned his head on the pillow, and his eyes fell upon a slim youth, who was watching him intently from a chair by the window. The wreaths of sleep which were clinging to his brain began to drift away. He frowned. A boy in a coffeeroom, talking some nonsense about a blackened heart, and Amanda—Amanda? “Good God!” said Sir Gareth faintly, as memory came rushing back.

Hildebrand, uncertain whether he was himself, or still lightheaded, said tentatively: “Are you better, sir?”

“Hildebrand Ross,” stated Sir Gareth. “Where the devil am I?”

“Well, I don’t suppose you would know the place, sir, but pray do not be uneasy! You are quite safe.”

“Did you put a bullet into me?” enquired Sir Gareth, dreamily interested.

“Yes, I did, sir, but indeed I never meant to! Pray do not let yourself be angry with me! I mean, not yet,while you are so weak!”

“I remember telling you not to wave that pistol about,” remarked Sir Gareth, in a reminiscent voice. “What happened after that?”

“Well, I—I shot you, sir, but don’t talk about it now! The doctor says you must be perfectly quiet.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Four days, sir—and I think I had better fetch Aunt Hester!” said Hildebrand nervously.

Sir Gareth, left to make what he could of this, found it beyond his comprehension, and closed his eyes again.

When he awoke for the second time, he remembered that he had been talking to Hildebrand, and looked towards the window. But Hildebrand was no longer there. Lady Hester was seated in the Windsor chair, reading a book. Sir Gareth had thought that he was better, but he now suspected that he was delirious. There was a sandy kitten curled up in her lap, too, and he knew that kitten. Hester had nothing to do with Joseph, so probably he was still floating in a muddled dream. “Besides,” he said aloud, “she doesn’t wear a cap. How absurd!”

She looked up quickly, and rose, setting Joseph down. “Hildebrand came running to tell me that you had waked up, quite yourself again, but when I reached you, you were so soundly asleep that I almost doubted him,” she said, taking his hand, and feeling his pulse. “Oh, that is so much better! Do you feel more the thing?”

His fingers closed weakly round her hand. “But this is fantastic!” he said. “Are you sure I am not dreaming?”

“Quite sure,” she replied, smiling mistily down at him. “I daresay you may be wondering how I come to be here, but it is not at all important, and there is no need for you to tease yourself about it just now.”

He studied the offending cap frowningly. “Why do you wear that thing?”

“Well, I think I have reached the age when perhaps I should.”

“Nonsense! I wish you will take it off.”

“Should you mind very much if I don’t?” she said apologetically. “There is something so very respectable about a cap, you know.”

That made him smile. “Must you look respectable?”

“Yes, indeed I must. Now, my dear friend, I am going to call Chicklade that he may bring up the broth Mrs. Chicklade has been keeping hot for you, the instant you should wake up.”

“Who is Chicklade?”

“How stupid of me! He is the landlord, an excellent man, quite unlike his wife, who is really the most tiresome creature. I shall let him come into the room, because he has been so very obliging, and, besides that, I want him to raise you while I slip another pillow behind you. I shall warn him he must not encourage you to talk, but, in case you should say something to undo us all, will you remember that Hildebrand is your nephew?”

“Either I am dreaming, or you must have run mad suddenly,” said Sir Gareth. “Hildebrand was the name of the young idiot who shot me. That I do remember!”

“Yes, so careless of him! I daresay you will feel that you ought to give him a scold, and perhaps I should have done so, when he told me about it. But he was in such distress, and so truly repentant, that I could see it was not at all necessary. I don’t mean to dictate to you, but if you should be meaning to give him up to justice, which he quite expects, poor boy, I wish you won’t! He has been helping me to nurse you, and running all the errands with such readiness that it would be quite dreadfully ungrateful to send him to prison. Besides, it would appear very odd if you were to do so, when everyone thinks he is your nephew.

“Is that why he became my nephew?” he asked, looking amused.

“Yes, and I need scarcely tell you that it was Amanda’s notion. She said that Hildebrand held you up for a jest, and had never meant to shoot you, which, indeed, was perfectly true. I own, Amanda is very naughty, but one cannot help admiring her! She is never at a loss!”

“Where is Amanda?” he interrupted.

“She has walked over to Great Staughton with Hildebrand, to purchase some things for me there.”

“Do you mean to tell me she hasn’t run away?” he said incredulously.

“Oh, no!”

“How in the world did you contrive to keep her here?”

“Oh, I didn’t! I am sure I could not. She would not think of running away now. Besides, she is very well-satisfied to be here, for it is the tiniest village, where I shouldn’t think her grandfather would ever find her. You shall see her when you are a little stronger. Oh, I forgot to mention that she is your niece! She and Hildebrand are cousins.”

“I seem to have been acquiring an alarming number of new relatives,” he remarked.

“Yes,” she agreed. She hesitated, colouring faintly. “Which puts me in mind that I should warn you that I shall be obliged to call you Gareth while we remain in this inn. I am afraid you may not quite like it, but—”

“On the contrary!” he said, smiling. “Are you also related to me?”

“Well, yes!” she confessed. “We—we thought it best that I should be your sister. You see, I didn’t feel I could be your wife!”

“That also I remember,” he said.

Her colour deepened; she looked away, and said in a little confusion: “The thing was that when Amanda sent Hildebrand to fetch me, she told the Chicklades that I was her aunt, which, I must say, was most sensible of her. But they supposed from that that I must be your wife, and they told the doctor so. Which nearly led to our undoing, because you know how foolish I am! I blurted out that I was no such thing, and the doctor stared at me in such a way! However, Amanda instantly said that I was not your wife, but your sister, which perfectly satisfied him. I hope you are not vexed! Now I must go and call to Chicklade.”

She went away, and when she returned, a few minutes later, she was accompanied by Chicklade, who bore a small tray into the room, which he set down on the table by the bed. He then said that he was glad to see Sir Gareth looking more stout, speaking in a painstakingly lowered voice. Sir Gareth roused himself to play the part expected of him. He said: “Thank you, I’m as weak as a cat, but you will see how quickly I shall be on my feet again. I am afraid I have been a shocking charge upon you. My sister has been telling me how you have helped to nurse me.” He held out his hand. “Thank you: I am very much obliged to you! You must be heartily sick of such a troublesome guest, but really I am not to be blamed! My young fool of a nephew is the culprit.”

“Ay, sir, he is that!” Chicklade said, cautiously taking the hand in his. “Properly speaking, he ought to be given a rare dressing, but I don’t doubt it was Miss who set him on, and I’m bound to say he’s had the fright of his life. Nor I don’t grudge the trouble. If there’s aught I can do, your honour has only to mention it.”

“Then I beg you will shave me!” said Sir Gareth: passing his hand ruefully over his chin.

“Tomorrow, perhaps,” said Hester, waiting to place another pillow behind his head. “Will you lift him now, if you please? Don’t try to help yourself, Gareth; Chicklade is very strong, you will find.”

“What was your fighting weight?” asked Sir Gareth, as the landlord lowered him tenderly on to the pillows.

A slow smile spread over the broad face. “Ah, I was never reduced beyond thirteen stone eight, sir, and, of course, nowadays—well! If I might make so bold, I’d say your honour displays to advantage.”

“You will be able to enjoy many delightful talks about prize-fighting with Sir Gareth when he is a little stronger,” said Lady Hester gently.

The landlord, thus recalled to a sense of Sir Gareth’s weakness, cast an apologetic glance at her, and beat a retreat. She sat down by the bed, and offered her patient a spoonful of broth. “I hope it is good,” she said, smiling at him. “As soon as your fever began to abate, Chicklade killed one of his cockerels, so that we might have a sustaining broth ready for you. Hildebrand was disgusted, because Amanda saw its neck wrung, but I daresay she was quite right to do so. She seems to think that if she goes to the Peninsula she might be obliged to kill chickens, though I myself should rather suppose that the batman would do it for her. Poor Hildebrand is very squeamish, so naturally he was much shocked at Amanda’s wishing to learn how to wring a chicken’s neck. Do you think you could eat a morsel of toast, if I dipped it in the broth?”

“Thank you, I had liefer eat it undipped. I detest sops! Hester, I wish you will explain to me how you came to be here! Amanda had no business to ask it of you, and how you can have prevailed upon your family to consent to such a thing I can’t conceive.”

“Oh, I didn’t! They think I have gone to be with my sister Susan, because her children have the measles. Don’t look so dismayed! I never enjoyed anything half as much, I assure you. You cannot think what a relief it is to have shaken off every one of my relations! I don’t feel like myself at all, and that is a relief, too.”

“But, my dear, it is the craziest thing to have done!” he expostulated, half-laughing.

“Yes, isn’t it?” she agreed cordially. “That is what makes it so delightful, for I have never done anything crazy before. Just a little more of this broth! How pleased Amanda and Hildebrand will be when they learn that you have drunk it all up! I wonder whether they have been able to purchase any playing-cards in Great Staughton?”

Her inconsequence made him smile. “Do you wish for some?”

“Oh, no! Only that it is very dull for those children, and I thought if only they had some cards they could play games together in the evening, instead of quarrelling. Hildebrand was much inclined to think that it would be very wrong to buy cards, but I assured him you would have not the least objection.”

“I?” he said. “What made the boy think me so strait-laced?”

“Oh, he didn’t! The thing is that although he owns that we may purchase what you need with perfect propriety, he says that anything else is most improper: in fact, quite dishonest. We were obliged to steal your money, you see.”

“How very dreadful!” he murmured. “Am I left destitute?”

“No, indeed! And Hildebrand is keeping strict account of everypenny we spend. What a huge sum of money you carry on your person, Gareth! When we found that roll of bills in your pocket I thought we need have no scruples. You see, we were at a stand, because what with paying for the post-chaises, and stabling his horse, and buying the drugs we needed for you, Hildebrand was soon ruined. Amanda had a little money, but not nearly enough to pay our shot here, or the doctor; and I had nothing but what was in my purse. I do wish I were not so shatterbrained! I ought to have broken open Widmore’s strong-box, of course, but in the agitation of the moment I never thought of it.”

The tone of self-censure which she used proved too much for Sir Gareth’s gravity. He began to laugh, which caused him to feel a twinge in his shoulder sharp enough to make him wince. Lady Hester apologized, but said that she thought it did people no harm to laugh, even if it did hurt them a trifle.

It certainly seemed to do Sir Gareth no harm. The doctor, visiting him that evening, called upon Lady Hester to observe how famously he had responded to his treatment, and said that in less than no time he would be as right as a trivet; and although it was evident that it would, in fact, be some considerable while before he regained his strength, he began to improve so rapidly that on the following day Lady Hester permitted Amanda to visit him. She could only hope that he would not find her, in his present state, rather over-powering: perhaps, even, a little agitating. How great his interest in this turbulent beauty might be, she could not decide. Such intelligible utterances as he had made during his delirium had all concerned Amanda; she had been vaguely surprised that never once had she caught Clarissa’s name in his incoherent mutterings. That seemed to indicate that his mind, if not his heart, was obsessed by Amanda. The fever past, the only sign he had given of any extraordinary interest in her had been his immediate anxiety to know where she was. But Lady Hester knew that he was not the man to betray himself; and she feared that he was going to be hurt. Amazing through it might be (and to Hester it appeared incomprehensible), he had not made the smallest impression on Amanda’s heart. She liked him very well, she said he resembled all her favourite heroes of romance; and she remained unshaken in her devotion to her Brigade-Major. If Sir Gareth cherished hopes of winning her, he was doomed to disappointment; and although this would not be the tragedy that Clarissa’s death had been, it would be a hurt, and Hester would have happily immolated herself to have averted it. But there was nothing she could do. She allowed Amanda twenty minutes, and then, since Amanda had not emerged, she went up to the sickroom, to bring the session to an end.

The sight which met her eyes held her frozen on the threshold, and the thought flashed across her mind that she knew now how it felt to die. If it had lain within her power to have given Sir Gareth his heart’s desire, she would have done it; but she had not known how sharp a pain she would suffer when she saw Amanda’s face buried in his sound shoulder, and his arm about her.

He looked up, and the short agony was at an end. Never did a man more clearly signal an appeal for help than Sir Gareth at that moment. He did not look at all like a man in love; he looked extremely harassed. Then Hester perceived that Amanda was indulging in a hearty burst of tears, and the smile which held so much unexpected mischief suddenly danced in her eyes. “Good heavens, what is the matter?” she said, advancing into the room, and gently removing Amanda’s hand from about Sir Gareth’s neck. “Dear child, this is not at all the way to behave! Do, pray, stop crying!”

She raised her brows at Sir Gareth, in mute enquiry, and he said ruefully: “She is enjoying an orgy of remorse. I never dreamed that there could be anything more exhausting than Amanda in high gig, but I have discovered my error. Now, do cheer up, you little goose! It served me right for not heeding your warning that you would make me sorry.”

“Besides, she saved your life,” said Hester. “We have not liked to talk very much about the accident, but I do think you should know that if Amanda hadn’t acted with the greatest presence of mind, you would have bled to death, Gareth. And she had no one to turn to, either, because poor Hildebrand swooned from the shock, and the sight of the blood. Indeed, you are very much obliged to her.”

He was surprised, and a good deal touched, but Amanda would have none of his gratitude. She stopped crying, however, and raised her head from his shoulder. “Well, I had to do something, and, besides, it was very good practice, in case Neil should be wounded again. I didn’t mean to cry, and if only you had looked vexed when I came into the room, instead of smiling at me, and holding out your hand, I shouldn’t have.”

“It was most inconsiderate of me, and I can only beg your pardon,” he responded gravely. He watched her dry her cheeks, and then said: “Will you do something to oblige me?”

“Yes, to be sure I—at least, I might!”she said suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Write immediately to your grandfather, telling him that you are here, and in Lady Hester’s care!”

“I thought you were trying to trick me!” she exclaimed.

“My child, it must be a week since you ran away, and all that time he has been in the greatest anxiety about you! Think! You cannot wish him—”

“You are perfectly right!” she interrupted. “What a fortunate thing it is that you should have put me in mind of it, for so many things have happened that it went out of my head! Good gracious, he may have put the advertisement in the Morning Post days ago! I must find Hildebrand!”

She jumped up from her knees, and sped forth, leaving the door opened. Lady Hester went to shut it, saying, with mild curiosity: “I wonder what she wants Hildebrand to do?”

“Of all the heartless little wretches!” Sir Gareth said.

She looked rather surprised. “Oh, no, not heartless! Only she is so passionately devoted to Neil, you see, that she doesn’t care a button for anyone else.”

“Ruthless, then. Hester, can’t you prevail upon her to put that unfortunate old man out of his suspense?”

“I am afraid I can’t,” she said. “Of course, one can’t help feeling sorry for him, but I do think she should be allowed to marry Neil. Don’t tease yourself about her, Gareth! After all, she is quite safe while she remains with us.”

“You are as bad as she is,” said Sir Gareth severely.

“Yes, but not so resourceful,” she agreed. “And you are very tired, so you will have a sleep now, and no more visitors.”

There did not seem to be any more to be said. Until he was on his feet again, Sir Gareth knew that he was powerless to restore Amanda to her family; and since he was too weak to exert himself even in argument, he abandoned the struggle, and gave himself up to lazy convalescence, accepting the fantastic situation in which he found himself, and deriving a good deal of amusement from it. His adopted family cosseted him jealously, appealed to him to settle disputes, or decide knotty problems, and made his room, as he grew stronger, their headquarters. Amanda had from the outset regarded him much in the light of an uncle. Hildebrand had thought that, so far from doing the same, he would never be able to confront him without being crushed by a sense of guilt. Once Sir Gareth was himself again, it had taken much courage to enter his room. But as Hildebrand was his chief attendant, the awful moment had to be faced. He had gone in, braced to endure whatever might be in store for him. “Well nephew?” had said Sir Gareth. “And what have you to say for yourself?” He had had an abject apology all prepared but it had been cut short. “Only wait until I am on my feet again!” had said Sir Gareth. “I’ll teach you to brandish loaded pistols!”

After that, there had been no difficulty at all in looking upon Sir Gareth as an uncle. Indeed, it very soon seemed to Sir Gareth that neither Amanda nor Hildebrand remembered that he was not their uncle.

Hildebrand’s chief preoccupation was how to regain possession of his horse, but since he could not bring himself to let some heavy-handed post-boy or ostler ride Prince, and spurned indignantly a suggestion that he should hire a chaise to carry him to St. Ives, so that he could himself bring Prince to Little Staughton, there seemed to be no solution to the problem. “As though I should think of leaving you for all those hours!” he said. “Besides, only consider what it would cost, sir!” j

“What, is it low tide with us?”

“Good God, no! But you can’t think I would first shoot you, Uncle Gary, and then make you pay for me to get my horse back! And in any event, I don’t think I should go, because if I don’t keep an eye on Amanda, the lord only knows what she’ll do next!”

“Then for God’s sake do keep your eye on her!” said Sir Gareth. “What fiendish plot is she hatching now?”

“Well, you know how she disappeared yesterday, and was gone for hours?—Oh, no, Aunt Hester thought we shouldn’t tell you! I beg your pardon, Aunt Hester, but it don’t signify, because she hadn’t run away after all! Well, do you know what she did? She went to Eaton Socon in Farmer Upwood’s gig, just to discover where she could get her hands on the Morning Post!”

“But I think that was such a sensible thing to do!” said Lady Hester. “And she did discover it, too, which I’m sure I should never have done.”

“Yes, you would, ma’am! She discovered it at the receiving-office, and anyone would have known that was the place to go to!”

“Not Aunt Hester,” said Sir Gareth, his eyes quizzing her. “Who does take the Morning Post in these rural parts?”

“Oh, some old fellow, who lives near Colmworth, which is about four miles from here! He is an invalid, and never stirs out of his house, so Chicklade says. The thing is that if I don’t go for her, Amanda swears she will go herself, to ask the old man to let her look at every Morning Post he has received this week!”

“You know, I have suddenly thought of something very discouraging!” said Hester. “I shouldn’t wonder at it if they had been used for lighting the kitchen-fire! Now, that would be too bad, but exactly the sort of thing that is bound to happen!”

“If you think there is any chance that Amanda’s grandfather may have yielded, we had better send to the office of the Morning Post immediately,” said Sir Gareth. “In his place, I had rather have gone to Bow Street, but one never knows.”

“Well, do you think I should try first at this old fellow’s house, sir?” Hildebrand asked.

“By all means—if you can think of a sufficiently plausible excuse for wishing to see so many copies of his newspaper. I daresay you will be thought insane, but if you don’t regard that, why should I?”

“No, why? I shall say that I want them for you, because you are laid by the heels here, and have nothing to read.”

“I wonder why I shouldn’t have guessed that you would drag me into it?” observed Sir Gareth, in a musing tone.

Hildebrand grinned, but assured him that he need have no fear.

“I must own, Gareth,” said Hester thoughtfully, after Hildebrand had departed, “that I can’t help hoping you may be wrong about Bow Street. What shall we do, if we have Runners after us?”

“Emigrate!” he replied promptly.

She smiled, but said: “You know, it would be very exciting, but not, I think, quite comfortable, because, although we have done nothing wrong, the Runners might not perfectly understand just how it all came about. Unless, of course, Amanda is able to think of another splendid story.”

“Any story of Amanda’s will infallibly land us all in Newgate. I see nothing for it but emigration.”

“Not all of us, Gareth: only you!” she said, with a gleam of humour. “She will certainly tell them that you abducted her, because nothing will persuade her that an abduction is something quite different. Oh, well, we must just hope that there may be a notice in one of the papers! And I should think that there would be, for the grandfather must wish to get Amanda back as soon as ever he may.”

But when Hildebrand returned, later in the day, from his errand, she was found to have been wrong. Hildebrand came into Sir Gareth’s room, laden with periodicals, which he dumped on the floor, saying breathlessly: “All for you, Uncle Gary! He would have me bring them, because he says he knows you! Lord I thought we were in a fix then, but I don’t fancy any harm will come of it.”

“Oh, my God!” exclaimed Sir Gareth. “I suppose you had to tell him my name? Who is he?”

“Well, I never thought it would signify. And, in any event, everyone knows who you are, because the post-boy told Chicklade what your name was, when you were carried in, that day.”

Amanda, who was seated on the floor, scanning, and discarding, copy after copy of the Morning Post,looked up to say: “I told you you would only make a muff of it! If I had gone myself, I should have made up a very good name for Uncle Gary, only you have no ingenuity, and can think of nothing!”

“Yes!” retorted Hildebrand. “You would have said he was Lancelot du Lake, or something so silly that no one would have believed it!”

“Don’t imagine you are going to quarrel over me!” interposed Sir Gareth. “What I want to know is not what name of unequalled splendour Amanda would have bestowed on me, but what is the name of this recluse, who says he knows me?”

Amanda, uninterested, retired again into the advertisement columns of the Morning Post. Hildebrand said: “Vinehall, sir: Barnabas Vinehall.”

“Well, I should never have made up as silly a name as that!” interpolated Amanda scornfully.

“Good God!” ejaculated Sir Gareth. “I thought he was dead! You don’t mean to say he lives here?”

“Yes, but there’s no need for any of us to be in a quake, because he never goes out now: he told me so!” said Hildebrand reassuringly. “He is the fattest man I ever laid eyes on!”

“I fail to see—”

“No, but only listen, Uncle Gary! It’s dropsy!”

“Poor man!” said Hester sympathetically. “Who is he, Gareth?”

“He was a crony of my father’s. I haven’t seen him for years. Dropsy, eh? Poor old Vinehall! What did you tell him, Hildebrand?”

“Well, only that you had had an accident, and were laid up here. The mischief was that I had previously said I was your nephew, because as soon as he knew your name he said I must be Trixie’s eldest son. I didn’t know who Trixie was—”

“—so, of course,you said you were not!” put in Amanda.

“No, I did not! You are not the only person who can tell untruths!” retorted Hildebrand. “I said I was!”

“Who did you say I was?” demanded Amanda.

“Nobody. You were not mentioned,” replied Hildebrand, depressing pretension. “The only thing that put me in a fright, sir, was Mr. Vinehall’s supposing that Aunt Hester must be this Trixie. Because I had said that your sister was nursing you, and I collect that Trixie is your sister.”

“My only sister!” said Sir Gareth, covering his eyes with his hand. “What I have ever done to deserve being saddled with such a nephew as you—! Go on! Let me know the worst!”

“There is no worst! He did say that he hoped Trixie—your sister, I mean, sir—would visit him, but I made that right immediately, by saying that she might not leave you while you were ill, and that as soon as you were better she would be obliged to hurry back to her own home. Then I said that I was sure you would wait on him, as soon as you were able, which seemed to please him very much. Then he talked about your father, and at last he made his butler tie up a great bundle of papers and periodicals for you to read, and so I made my escape. Now tell me if I did wrong, sir?”

“Well!”The word burst from Amanda, sitting back on her heels in a welter of newspapers, her eyes flashing. “Would you have believed it? He has not done it! Why—why—one would almost think he did not wish to have me back!”

“Impossible!” murmured Sir Gareth.

“Of course it is impossible!” said Hester, casting a reproving glance at him. “I daresay there had not been yet time for the advertisement to be inserted. Wait a few days longer!”

“Is Hildebrand to visit Vinehall every day?” enquired Sir Gareth, “courting disaster—but far be it from me to complain!”

“No, for he said he would send his groom over with the newspaper,” said Hildebrand. “No harm can come of that, surely, sir?”

“None at all-provided he doesn’t take it into his head to come himself.”

“Oh, no fear of that!” Hildebrand said cheerfully. “He told me that he finds it hard to get about, and was only sorry that he was unable to drive over to see you.”

He had underrated Mr. Vinehall’s spirit. On the following afternoon, when both the ladies of the party were in the parlour, Amanda standing in the middle of the room, and Lady Hester kneeling at her feet to stitch up a torn flounce on her dress, a vehicle was heard to drive up. Neither paid much heed, since this was no unusual circumstance; but after a minute, Amanda, craning her neck, managed to catch a glimpse of it, and exclaimed: “Good gracious, it’s a carriage! The most oldfashioned thing! Whoever can it be?”

They were not left above a couple of minutes in suspense. Whoever it was had already entered the inn, and the arrival seemed to have thrown the Chicklades into strange confusion. A babel of voices sounded, Chicklade’s deep one sharpened by surprise, and a still deeper one wheezing an answer.

“Good God!” uttered Hester, in a panic. “Could it be Mr. Vinehall? Amanda, what are we to do? If he sees me—”

The words died on her lips, for the door had been flung open, and she heard Chicklade say: “If your honour will be pleased to step into the parlour! You’ll find Sir Gareth’s sister and niece, and very glad to see you, sir, I’ll be bound.”

Gladness was not the predominant expression in either lady’s face. Hester, hurriedly breaking off her thread, and getting up, was looking perfectly distracted; and Amanda’s eyes, fixed on the doorway, were growing rounder and rounder in astonishment.

Hildebrand had not exaggerated in his description of Mr. Vinehall. His bulk filled the aperture. He was a man in the late sixties, dressed in clothes as oldfashioned as his carriage. A stalwart footman hovered watchfully behind him, and, as soon as he was clear of the doorway, hastened to lend him the support of his arm, and to lower him on to a chair, where he sat, breathing heavily, and staring at Amanda. An appreciative smile gradually spread over his very red face, and he said: “So you are little Trixie’s girl, my dear? Well, well, you don’t resemble her greatly, but I’ve no complaint to make! I’ll wager you’ll break as many hearts as she did!” His mountainous form shook alarmingly, and a rumbling laugh appeared to convulse him. The footman patted him on the back, and after wheezing a good deal, he gasped: You don’t know who the devil I am, eh? Well, my name’s Vinehall, and I knew your mama when she was in a cradle. Gary, too. To think of his being within five miles of my place, and me having not a suspicion of it! If it hadn’t been for your brother’s coming to call on me yesterday, I daresay I should never have been a penny the wiser, for the only news I get is from the doctor, and he hasn’t been next or nigh me for ten days. Damme, I thought, when the lad was gone off, why don’t I heave myself into my carriage, and go to see Gary, since he can’t come to see me? So here I am, and not a penny the worse for it. Now, where’s your mama, my dear? I’ll warrant she’ll bless herself when she hears who’s come to wait on her!”

“She—she isn’t here, sir,” said Amanda.

“Not here? Where’s she gone off to, then? The boy told me she couldn’t leave Gary!”

“I don’t know. I mean, she never was here! It is my Aunt Hester who is nursing Uncle Gary!”

“But your brother said—”

“Oh, I expect he did not hear just what you were asking him!” said Amanda glibly. “He is very deaf, you know!”

“God bless my soul! Didn’t seem to be deaf to me!”

“No, because he very much dislikes to have it known, and so he pretends that he can hear quite well.”

“You don’t mean it! I should never have suspected it. So Trixie ain’t here after all! Who is this Aunt Hester you spoke of? One of your papa’s sisters?” He seemed to become aware of Hester, standing frozen behind Amanda, and bowed. “How de do, ma’am? You’ll excuse my getting up!”

“Yes, indeed!” Hester said faintly. “How do you do?” He frowned suddenly. “Ay, but you can’t be Gary’s sister, if you’re a Wetherby!”

“No, no! I mean, I’m not a Wetherby! That is—” Amanda, observing her flounderings, rose nobly, but disastrously, to the rescue. “She is Uncle Gary’s other sister,” she explained.

“Other sister? He ain’t got another!” said Mr. Vinehall. “Never more than three of them: Gary, poor Arthur, and Trixie! What’s the game, you little puss? Trying to humbug an old man? No, no you’ll catch cold at that!”

“Excuse me!” Hester said, unable to bear another moment of what was fast developing into an inquisition. “I will see if Sir Gareth can receive you, sir!”

With these hastily uttered words, she slipped from the room, and fled upstairs, tripping on her dress, and arriving in Sir Gareth’s room out of breath, and with her cap crooked. “Gareth!” she gasped. “The most dreadful thing! We are quite undone!”

He lowered the copy of the Quarterly,which he had been reading. “Good God, what is it?”

“Mr. Vinehall!” she said, sinking limply into a chair.

“What, here?” he demanded.

“In the parlour, talking to Amanda. He has come to see you!”

“Now we are in the basket!” said Sir Gareth, accepting the situation with maddening calm. “Has he seen you?”

“Yes, of course he has, and of course he knew I wasn’t Mrs. Wetherby! I was ready to sink, for I could think of nothing to say, and Amanda made a fatal mistake! Gareth, how can you lie there laughing?”

“My dear, I can’t help but laugh when you burst in upon me looking perfectly demented, and with that ridiculous cap over one eye! I do wish you will throw it away!”

“This is no moment to be discussing my cap!” she scolded. “Amanda told him I was your other sister!”

“Now, that is not worthy of Amanda,” he said, shaking his head. “He won’t swallow it. She must think of something better.”

“I don’t see how she can! And, depend upon it, Hildebrand will come in, having no notion that he’s very deaf, just to make matters worse!”

“Oh, is Hildebrand deaf?” he asked, interested.

“Yes—that is, no, you know very well he isn’t! Oh, dear, I ought to have said I was a Wetherby! What’s to be done now? One thing I am determined on! I won’t meet him again! What shall you tell him?”

“I can’t imagine,” he said frankly. “It will depend on what Amanda may have told him.”

“You may be obliged to tell the truth.”

“I may, but I shall do my best to avoid the necessity.”

“Yes, pray do! It is such a very complicated story, and I daresay it would quite exhaust you to have to explain it all to him.”

His lips quivered, but he replied gravely: “And then we might discover that he hadn’t believed a word of it.”

“Yes, very true! Good God, he is coming!” she cried, springing out of her chair. “I can’t and I won’t face him! I should be bound to ruin everything by saying something bird-witted—you must know I should!”

“Yes, but I own I should dearly love to hear you!” Sir Gareth said, his eyes warm with amusement.

“How can you be so unfeeling? Where can I hide?” she said, looking wildly around.

“Slip away to your own room until he has gone!” he advised.

“I can’t! The stairs are directly opposite this door! Oh, heavens, Gareth, only listen to him! How dreadful if he were to expire on the stairs! Though it would be a great stroke of good fortune for us, of course. But one cannot wish it to happen—unless, perhaps, it would be a merciful release for him, poor man! I shall have to get behind the curtain. For heaven’s sake, Gareth, think of something to say that will satisfy him!”

The little bedchamber did not boast a wardrobe, but a chintz curtain had been hung across one corner of the room. To Sir Gareth’s deep delight, Lady Hester plunged behind it, amongst his coats, just as Chicklade, who had aided the footman to push and haul Mr. Vinehall up the narrow stairs, opened the door, and announced the visitor.

Sir Gareth composed his countenance admirably, and greeted his father’s old friend with every proper expression of gratitude and pleasure. It was some moments before Mr. Vinehall, deposited in a chair beside the bed, could recover his breath. His exertions had turned the red in his cheeks to purple, but this gradually abated. He waved his solicitous attendants out of the room, and said: “Gary! Well, by Jupiter! It must be a dozen years since I saw you last! How are you, my dear boy? Not in good point, I hear. How came you to break your arm? Lord, I should have recognized you anywhere!” He barely gave Sir Gareth time to answer suitably before he was off again, dropping his voice confidentially, and saying: “I’m glad I don’t find that young lady with you, for I shouldn’t know what to say to her, upon my word I should not! I wouldn’t have put her out of countenance for the world, as I hope you know!”

“I am quite sure you would not, sir,” said Sir Gareth, feeling his way.

“Ay, but it was not a very gallant way to behave, and I could see she was put out. Well, no wonder, for there was I blundering along, and Trixie’s girl tells me she is devilish sensitive!”

“She has a great deal of sensibility,” admitted Sir Gareth cautiously.

“Ay, I daresay, and there I was, bringing home the evils of her situation to her, like a regular blubberhead! I should have known how it was as soon as that pretty chit said she was your other sister, but it never so much as crossed my mind. As soon as she was gone, Trixie’s girl told me, and, I give you my word, Gary, I was never more thunderstruck in my life! God bless my soul, I should have said your dear father was the last man on earth—why, even when he was cutting a dash in his salad days I never knew him to be in the petticoat-line! Ay, and I was as well acquainted with him as any man. I declare I can’t get over it! You acknowledge, her, I see?”

“Quite—quite privately!” said Sir Gareth, only the faintest tremor in his voice.

“Ay, very proper,” nodded Mr. Vinehall. “Was your mother aware of her existence?”

“Happily, no!”

“Just as well. She wouldn’t have liked it. Nasty shock for her, for she doted on your father. Well, well, poor George, he managed to keep it dark, and you needn’t fear I shall spread the tale about. Couldn’t, if I wanted to, for it’s seldom I see anyone these days. You’ll know how to tell the poor girl she don’t have to fear me. It’s a sad business. Taking little thing, too: got a sweet face! What you should do, Gary is to find her a respectable husband.”

“I shall do my best to, sir.”

“That’s right: you’re too like your father not to do just as you ought! But tell me, my boy, how do you go on? How is Trixie? That was a tragic thing, Arthur’s getting himself killed.”

He remained for some twenty minutes, chatting in a rambling way about old times and old acquaintances; but he had evidently been warned by Amanda that he must not stay for long with the invalid, for he soon pulled out his watch, and said that he must be off. He could not rise unassisted from his chair, but his attendant was waiting outside the door, and came in answer to his husky bellow. After grasping Sir Gareth’s hand, and adjuring him not to leave the district without coming over to see him, he went ponderously away, and was soon heard cursing Chicklade genially for some piece of clumsiness.

Lady Hester emerged from her hiding-place, her cap now wildly askew. Sir Gareth lay back against his pillows, watching her, a question behind the brimming laughter in his eyes.

“Gareth!” said Hester, in an awed voice. “You must own that Amanda is wonderful! I should never have thought of saying I was your natural sister!”

He was shaking with laughter, his hand pressed instinctively to his hurt shoulder. “No? Nor I, my dear!”

Suddenly she began to laugh too. “Oh, dear, of all the absurd situations—! I was just thinking how W-Widmore would l-look if he knew!”

The thought was too much for her. She sat down in the Windsor chair, and laughed till she cried. Mopping her streaming eyes at last, she said: “I don’t think I have ever laughed so much in all my life. But I must say, Gareth, there is one thing about this new story of Amanda’s which I cannot like!”

“Oh, no, is there?” he said unsteadily.

“Yes,” she said, sober again. “It was not well done of Amanda to make up such a tale about your father. For he was a most excellent person, and it seems quite dreadful to be slandering him! Really, Gareth, you should have denied it!”

“I assure you, he would have delighted in the story, for he was blessed with a lively sense of humour,” Sir Gareth replied. He looked at her, a glimmer in his eyes, and a smile quivering on his lips. “Do you know, Hester, in all these years I have held you in esteem and regard, yet I never knew you until we were pitchforked into this fantastic imbroglio? Certainly Amanda is wonderful! I must be eternally grateful to her!”