The Fortunes of the Farrells Part 35

The door closed behind Victor, and Mr Farrell turned immediately towards his eldest grand-niece, as if anxious to get through an ordeal.

"Well, Ruth, I must bid you good-bye. I trust you will have a pleasant journey, and find matters at home less serious than you antic.i.p.ate."

"Thank you, Uncle Bernard." Ruth extended a cold little hand, and stood hesitating by his side, while his sunken eyes dwelt upon the face which in feature was so like his own. "I've enjoyed the time--part of the time--more than anything else in my life! I'm sorry if I have done wrong in any way; I wanted only to please you!"

"For my own sake, or for what I could give?"

The question came sharp and abrupt, and Ruth's cheeks flamed beneath it.

She hesitated painfully, gathering courage to speak the truth.

"Oh, I know I have been mercenary! I'm sick of being poor, and I love the Court and the easy, luxurious life. I wanted the money more than anything in the world; but it's all over now, and it's partly your own fault, for you _did_ tempt me! Please forgive me before I go!"

"I forgive you, Ruth. It is quite true that I tempted you, and you are not fitted to bear temptation. But there is no need to bear enmity.

Good-bye!"

He held out his hand again--held it at a distance, and with a formality which forbade a warmer farewell; and Ruth turned away, downcast and miserable. Those words, "You are not fitted to bear temptation," seemed to denote that in his mind there still dwelt a lingering suspicion lest she might have yielded to her anxiety to look at the will, and had then lacked the courage for confession. Well, it was all over, and it was useless to protest. So perish earthly hopes!

Mr Farrell turned towards his remaining niece.

"Well, Mollie, and so you also are resolved to leave me?"

"There was only one alternative, Uncle Bernard, and you refused it. If you won't help mother, we must lose no time in getting to work. We are breaking no promise, remember. We said we would stay if she could spare us, and now the time has come when she needs to have us back."

"You believe you can find work--work which will pay--a child like you, with the plainest of educations?"

"I am sure of it. I am not going to teach, but I shall be able to do something. I should be ashamed of myself if I couldn't--a big, strong creature like me! I am sorry to go--much more sorry than you will believe! I've been very happy these few weeks."

"I know you have. I have known more than you are aware of, perhaps.

But you will not regret your departure so much, as Jack Melland is leaving at the same time. He has been your special companion, I think."

The blood flew to Mollie's cheeks under the scrutiny of the sunken eyes, and, to her consternation, spread even higher and higher, until she was crimson to the roots of her hair. She tried in vain to answer with composure, but could only stammer confusedly--

"He has been very nice. I like him the best--better than Mr Druce.

But he decided--we decided,--our reasons for leaving are absolutely independent of each other, Uncle Bernard."

"I know--I know!"

He turned aside, and remained silent for a few minutes, as if to allow her time to recover composure, then once more held out his hand in farewell.

"Well, good-bye, Mollie. We also must agree to forgive and forget!"

Mollie bent over his chair, one hand resting on each arm, the embarra.s.sment of a moment before dying a sudden death in the face of a parting which, in the nature of things, must be for ever.

"Uncle Bernard," she said softly, "if your Ned were alive, and you were in trouble, you would like him to hurry home to you, whatever it might cost! And if She were alive, and poor and distraught, you would rather he worked for her, than left her that he might fill the greatest post on earth. Judge us by that thought when you feel inclined to be hard! I know you don't like kissing people, so I am going to kiss you instead.

There! Good-bye; and G.o.d bless you!"

She turned away with tears in her eyes, but half-way to the door the sound of her own name made her pause.

"Mollie!" he cried, in a sharp, resolute voice, which sent her heart beating with sudden hope.

But, even as her eyes met his, his expression changed once more.

"No, no; it is better as it is! I have nothing to say!"

Mollie turned away sadly and walked out of the room.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

LEAVING THE COURT.

The news of the girls' sudden flight spread to the vicarage, and brought Mrs Thornton rus.h.i.+ng up to the Court, hot and panting, and almost incoherent with curiosity and dismay. When she heard of the trouble which was the cause of their departure, her best side came out, and she helped the girls in both word and deed through the last difficult hours.

It was a comfort to find someone who agreed with their decision, and was convinced that they were acting aright in returning home, even in defiance of Uncle Bernard's wishes.

"The maid cries, and Bates looks as if he would like to murder us, Mr Druce keeps out of the way and says nothing, and Jack Melland, who is so keen on taking his own way, has half a dozen compromises to suggest.

Actually he offered to go to Liverpool himself and find out if we could be of any use if we returned! It was sweet of him, but we must be of use. There is no option in the matter, and it is not reasonable to expect mother to discuss private affairs with a stranger."

"Of course not; but I love him for having suggested it. Of course, no one wants you to go, dear Ruth. It is a terrible collapse to all our bright schemes, but with such trouble at home you have no choice, and there is nothing gained by staying on for a few odd days. Better hurry back and bend all your energies to see what can be done to retrieve matters, and look forward to the day when you will return for good."

Ruth shook her head hopelessly, and for once Mollie followed her example.

"Ah, that will never be! There is no more hope. We are leaving against Uncle Bernard's wishes, and at the very worst possible time, for he is angry and upset because there is no way of finding out who opened the desk and read the draft of the will. We are all indignant at being suspected; yet it seems strange that an outsider should be so interested. It is terribly unfortunate, especially for Uncle Bernard, for he can't help feeling his confidence shaken; and yet, so far as we can see, nothing will ever be found out."

"Yes, it will all be explained some day," said Mrs Thornton solemnly.

"Don't ask me how, for I can't tell. I only know that evil deeds are the most difficult things in the world to hide, and that in the most wonderful and unexpected ways they are discovered long after hope of detection has been abandoned. It will be so in this case also. Whoever is mean and wicked enough to allow you, dear children, to bear an unjust suspicion in addition to your own trouble, will be put to the shame he deserves. As for your coming back again, I will not give up hope if you do. I can't afford to lose all my castles in the air. It is decided that one of you is to be Lady of the Manor, and put our societies out of debt, and pay for a parish nurse, and take my dear girls about when they come home, and make life a fairy tale for us all. You have raised my expectations, and I intend to go on expecting! Seriously, dears, whatever Mr Farrell may say to you just now, in the first heat of disappointment, I cannot believe he will really think less of you for giving up your own pleasure to hurry back to your mother. Mr Melland has only himself to thank if his name is struck off the list; but you were willing and anxious to stay, and are the victims of circ.u.mstances.

If I were in the squire's place I should think all the more highly of you for your unselfish devotion, and I believe he will, though he will never confess as much in words. But time will show! Meantime, my poor dears, we will think of you every day, and pray for you that you may be shown what to do, and have strength to do it. I have had my own share of money troubles, and would never try to belittle them in my own case or in the case of others. They are very hard and sordid, and far- reaching. There was a time in my life when money seemed in the background of every thought, and I could not get away from it; but I have learnt to trust instead of worrying, and that's the great lesson of life. It isn't mastered in a day; it took me years to learn, and many bitter experiences, which I hope you may be spared; but try, dears, to do your best, and leave the rest with G.o.d! Then comes the 'quiet mind'

which will keep you calm and restful through all outward troubles."

The two young, wistful faces gazed into hers, and her eyes filled with tears of pity.

"Now tell me honestly--shall I help you best by staying, or by going away at once? I have arranged to do whichever suits you best. If you need any help."

"Oh, thank you! The best help of all would be to stay and drive down to the station with us. The packing is all done--in a way! But I expect that in our haste we have left lots of things behind, for we worked together, and in such a hurry and confusion that we hardly knew what we were about. Poor Elsie has packed our new garments in the new trunks, and watered them with tears. I expect it will be months before they are opened. We shall have no use for such fineries now."

"You can never tell what may happen, but if you don't, there is no cause to grieve. They have served their day, and have given you pleasure.

Never mind if you have left some oddments behind; Elsie can send them on. I never have a visitor at the vicarage that I have not to expend my substance posting toothbrushes or sponge-bags or stray garments after their departure."

Truth to tell, Mrs Thornton was much relieved at being allowed to accompany the girls to the station.

The Vicar's wife possessed even more than her share of feminine curiosity, and was longing to discover in what fas.h.i.+on Victor Druce said good-bye to Ruth.

He was already waiting in the dining-room when she went down with the girls a few minutes later to partake of some light refreshment before starting on their long journey, and nothing could have been more un.o.btrusively sympathetic or attentive than the manner in which he waited upon them, antic.i.p.ating every want, and ministering to it with eager hands. The room itself was so s.p.a.cious that unconsciously the little party split into groups; and Mrs Thornton found herself _tete-a- tete_ with Jack Melland, obviously in the worst of humours.

"Can you do nothing? Is there nothing you can say to knock a little common-sense into those girls' heads? It's the maddest trick, rus.h.i.+ng off like this in defiance of the old man's wishes. What can they do at home--a couple of children like that? They are better out of the way.

At any rate, one of them might have stayed--Mollie, for instance--and kept things going here till she saw how things worked out. They have no right to rush off together at a moment's notice!" he cried irritably; whereat Mrs Thornton smiled involuntarily.

"Isn't it rather a case of people in gla.s.s houses, Mr Melland? You have set a bad example without half the excuse of these dear girls. It seems to me their plain duty to return to their parents when they are in trouble, so I have not attempted to dissuade them in any way."