The Shadow of Ashlydyat Part 131

He felt greatly shocked. In his own mind, he, as many others, had a.s.sociated Maria with her husband, in regard to the summer's work, in a lofty, scornful sort of way: but it did shock him to hear that she was in fear of death. It is most wonderful how our feelings towards others soften when we find that they and their shortcomings are about to be taken from us to a more merciful Judge.

"But what is the matter with her, Margery?" Mr. Crosse asked; for it happened that he had not heard the ominous rumours that were beginning to circulate in Prior's Ash.

"_I_ don't know what's the matter with her," returned Margery. "I don't believe old Snow knows, either. I suppose the worry and misfortunes have been too much for her; as they were for somebody else. Mr. G.o.dolphin is in his grave, and now she's going to hers."

Mr. Crosse walked mechanically by the side of Margery down the lane. It was not his road, and perhaps he was unconscious that he took it; he walked by her side, listening.

"He'll have to go by himself now--and me to have been getting up all my cotton gowns for the start! Serve him right! for ever thinking of taking out that dear little lamb amid elephants and savages!"

Mr. Crosse was perfectly aware that Margery alluded to her master--his own _bete noire_ since the explosion. But he did not choose to descant upon his gracelessness to Margery. "Can nothing be done for Mrs. George G.o.dolphin?" he asked.

"I expect not, sir. There's nothing the matter with her that can be laid hold of," resentfully spoke Margery; "no malady to treat. Snow says he can't do anything, and he brought Dr. Beale in the other day: and it seems he can't do nothing, either."

Meta had reached the gate, flung it open in obedience to orders, and now came running back. Mr. Crosse took her hand and went on with her. Was he purposing to pay a visit to George G.o.dolphin's wife? It seemed so.

It was quite dusk when they entered. Maria was lying on the sofa, with a warm woollen wrapper drawn over her. There was no light in the room except that given out by the fire, but its blaze fell directly on her face. Mr. Crosse stood and looked at it, shocked at its ravages; at the tale it told. All kinds of unpleasant p.r.i.c.ks were sending their darts through his conscience. He had been holding himself aloof in his a.s.sumed superiority, his haughty condemnation, while she had been going to the grave with her breaking heart.

Had she wanted things that money could procure? had she wanted _food_?

Mr. Crosse actually began to ask himself the question, as the wan aspect of the white face grew and grew upon him: and in the moment he quite loathed the thought of his well-stored coffers. He remembered what a good, loving gentlewoman this wife of George G.o.dolphin's had always been, this dutiful daughter of All Souls' pastor: and for the first time Mr. Crosse began to separate her from her husband's misdoings, to awaken to the conviction that the burden and sorrow laid upon her had been enough to bear, without the world meting out its harsh measure of blame by way of increase.

He sat down quite humbly, saying "hush" to Meta. Maria had dropped into one of those delirious sleeps: they came on more frequently now, and would visit her at the twilight hour of the evening as well as at night: and the noise of their entrance had failed to arouse her. Margery, however, came bustling in.

"It's Mr. Crosse, ma'am."

Maria, a faint hectic of surprise coming into her cheeks, sat up and let him take her hand. "I am glad to have the opportunity of seeing you once again," she said.

"Why did you not send and tell me how ill you were?" burst forth Mr.

Crosse, forgetting how exceedingly ill such a procedure would have accorded with his own line of holding aloof in condemning superiority.

She shook her head. "I might, had things been as they used to be. But people do not care to come near me now."

"I am going in the s.h.i.+p, Mr. Crosse. I am going to ride upon an elephant and to have parrots."

He laid his hand kindly upon the chattering child: but he turned to Maria, his voice dropping to a whisper. "What shall you do with her?

Shall you send her out without you?"

The question struck upon the one chord of her heart that for the last day or two, since her own hopeless state grew more palpable, had been strung to the utmost tension. What was to become of Meta--of the cherished child whom she must leave behind her? Her face grew moist, her bosom heaved, and she suddenly pressed her hands upon it as if they could still its wild and painful beating. Mr. Crosse, blaming himself for asking it, blaming himself for many other things, took her hands within his, and said he would come and see her in the morning: she seemed so fatigued then.

But, low as the question had been put, Miss Meta heard it; heard it and understood its purport. She entwined her pretty arms within her mamma's dress as Mr. Crosse went out, and raised her wondering eyes.

"What did he mean? You are coming too, mamma!"

She drew the little upturned face close to hers, she laid her white cheek upon the golden hair. The very excess of pain that was rending her aching heart caused her to speak with unnatural stillness. Not that she could speak at first: a minute or two had to be given to mastering her emotion.

"I am afraid not, Meta. I think G.o.d is going to take me."

The child made no reply. Her earnest eyes were kept wide open with the same wondering stare. "What will papa do?" she presently asked.

Maria hastily pa.s.sed her hand across her brow, as if that recalled another phase of the pain. Meta's little heart began to swell, and the tears burst forth.

"Don't go, mamma! Don't go away from papa and Meta! I shall be afraid of the elephants without you."

She pressed the child closer and closer to her beating heart. Oh the pain, the pain!--the pain of the parting that was so soon to come!

They were interrupted by a noise at the gate. A carriage had bowled down the lane and drawn up at it, almost with the commotion that used to attend the das.h.i.+ng visits to the Bank of Mrs. Charlotte Pain. A more sober equipage this, however, with its mourning appointments, although it bore a coronet on its panels. The footman opened the door, and one lady stepped out of it.

"It is Aunt Cecil," called out Meta.

She rubbed the tears from her pretty cheeks, her grief forgotten, child-like, in the new excitement, and flew out to meet Lady Averil.

Maria, trying to look her best, rose from the sofa and tottered forward to receive her. Meta was pounced upon by Margery and carried off to have her tumbled hair smoothed; and Lady Averil came in alone.

She threw back her c.r.a.pe veil to kiss Maria. She had come down from Ashlydyat on purpose to tell her the news of the bones being found: there could be little doubt that they were those of the ill-fated Richard de Commins, which had been so fruitlessly searched for: and Lady Averil was full of excitement. Perhaps it was natural that she should be so, being a G.o.dolphin.

"It is most strange that they should be found just now," she cried; "at the very time that the Dark Plain is being done away with. You know, Maria, the tradition always ran that so long as the bones remained unfound, the Dark Plain would retain the appearance of a graveyard. Is it not a singular coincidence--that they should be discovered just at the moment that the Plain is being dug up? Were Janet here, she would say how startlingly all the old superst.i.tion is being worked out."

"I think one thing especially strange--that they should not have been found before," observed Maria. "Have they not been searched for often?"

"I believe so," replied Cecil. "But they were found under the archway; immediately beneath it: and I fancy they had always been searched for in the Dark Plain. When papa had the gorse-bushes rooted up they were looked for then in all parts of the Dark Plain, but not under the archway."

"How came Lord Averil to think of looking under the archway?" asked Maria.

"He did not think of it. They have been found unexpectedly, without being searched for. The archway is taken down, and the men were digging the foundation for the new summer-house, when they came upon them. The grounds of Ashlydyat have been like a fair all the afternoon with people coming up to see and hear," added Cecil. "Lord Averil is going to consult Mr. Hastings about giving them Christian burial."

"It does seem strange," murmured Maria. "Have you written to tell Janet?"

"No, I shall write to her to-morrow. I hastened down to you. Bessy came over from the Folly, but Lady G.o.dolphin would not come. She said she had heard enough in her life of the superst.i.tion of Ashlydyat. She never liked it, you know, Maria; never believed in it."

"Yes, I know," Maria answered. "It used to anger her when it was spoken of. As it angered papa."

"As George used to pretend that it angered him. I think it was only pretence, though. Poor Thomas, never. If he did not openly accord it belief, he never ridiculed it. How are your preparations getting on Maria?"

Maria was crossing the room with feeble steps to stir the fire into a blaze. As the light burst forth, she turned her face to Lady Averil with a sort of apology.

"I do not know what Margery is about that she does not bring in the lamp. I am receiving you very badly, Cecil."

Cecil smiled. "I think our topic, the Ashlydyat superst.i.tion, is better discussed in such light as this, than in the full glare of lamp-light."

But as Lady Averil spoke she was looking earnestly at Maria. The blaze had lighted up her wan face, and Cecil was struck aghast at its aspect.

_Was_ it real?--or was it only the effect of the firelight? Lady Averil had not heard of the ominous fears that were ripening, and hoped it was the latter.

"Maria! are you looking worse this evening? Or is the light deceiving me?"

"I dare say I am looking worse. I am worse. I am very ill, Cecil."

"You do not look fit to embark on this voyage."

Maria simply shook her head. She was sitting now in an old-fas.h.i.+oned arm-chair, one white hand lying on her black dress, the other supporting her chin, while the firelight played on her wasted features.