Meg's Friend Part 28

"I was sorry I said that," replied Meg. "I have missed you. I did not think you would obey me so implicitly."

"Not after such a definite command!" Eh? exclaimed the solicitor, jerking his head on one side and surveying her with his superficially smiling glance. "Well, now, what news of yourself, little lady?" he continued, leading her to a chair and sitting down beside her.

"I have pa.s.sed my examination," said Meg. "I am now at the head of the school."

Mr. Fullbloom put his hand on his heart and bowed.

"A modern Aspasia!" he replied as Meg paused, and seemed to hesitate.

"Come," he went on, "when is our tiff to begin? I must have my tiff about the great Unknown."

"No," said Meg gently, "we shall have no more tiffs. I have made up my mind I will ask no more questions; and if possible, I shall cease wondering concerning myself. Whoever my benefactor may be, I am grateful to him--grateful from my heart. I wish I could prove my grat.i.tude to him. I wish it so much that I cannot but think it will be granted to me to do so some day."

"Perhaps it will--and sooner than you think," exclaimed Mr. Fullbloom.

"Ha! ha!" he went on tantalizingly, the flicker of mischief alight in his eyes as Meg looked up inquiringly. "You have just been saying you would not wonder any more.

"You would not be curious. Ha! ha! Mrs. Blue Beard, you would pry into any forbidden closet--you know you would--to find out that secret."

"No," repeated Meg, "I will not be curious any more. There must be some reason--some reason that I ought to respect. You will, I know, tell my kind friend, who he or she may be, that I am grateful; also, that I have taken a great resolve."

"Indeed!" said Fullbloom with evident enjoyment. "May I ask what it is?"

"I will not be dependent any longer. I am going to earn my own livelihood," replied Meg.

"How valorous we are, all of a sudden!" said Mr. Fullbloom, chuckling as if immensely tickled by the idea of Meg earning her livelihood.

"No, not all of a sudden!" said Meg with energy. "I have long thought of it. My wishes, my dreams have long been to be independent; to be no longer a pensioner on the bounty of one whose very name is unknown to me. I am going to be a governess. Miss Reeves has heard of a situation, the duties of which she thinks I am fitted to undertake--to teach three little girls in the country. The salary is thirty pounds. I won't be dependent any longer," repeated Meg with concentration.

"Miss Reeves and the three little girls go to Jericho!" cried Mr.

Fullbloom. Then taking Meg's two hands in his paternal grasp, "My dear child," he said, "you have long wished to know your benefactor's name.

To-morrow you will know it. You will not only know it, but you will be on a visit to him. He sends me to invite you down to stay at his place in the country."

"To-morrow!" repeated Meg. "On a visit to him! Who, then, is he?"

"Ha! ha!" cried Mr. Fullbloom gleefully. "All that fine a.s.sumption of having laid curiosity aside, where is it? No, no, no; not till to-morrow will you know anything about it."

"But where am I to go? Who am I to ask for?" cried Meg.

"Listen, my dear," explained Mr. Fullbloom, giving an occasional emphasis to his words by a pressure of Meg's hands. "You are to go to London first, then to the station of the North-Western Railway. Miss Reeves will go with you thus far; she will take a first-cla.s.s ticket for you. You must take the train that leaves London at a quarter to three. I will be at Greywolds Station to meet you at half-past five. It takes over three hours to get to Greywolds."

Meg felt a sudden recoil as she realized how near she was to the meeting she had dreamed of so long.

"Don't trouble your little head about money. All that is settled. Miss Reeves will make the necessary preparations. You have nothing to do but attend to the farewells. I must be off now. I am going to Greywolds to-night. I have an appointment with your mysterious patron."

Mr. Fullbloom's eyes were br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with elvish laughter, as with another pressure of Meg's two hands he turned away. He left her standing silent and chill, under the impression of that sudden revulsion of feeling.

CHAPTER XX.

ARRIVAL.

Past stretches of meadowland and woodland, past undulating fields sleeping peacefully in the suns.h.i.+ne, past busy towns and reposeful hamlets sped the train bearing Meg to her unknown guardian's home. The solitude of the empty carriage oppressed her. The flurry of the farewells and the pain of sundered a.s.sociations increased the timidity of her spirit, as she realized more vividly that she was hurrying she knew not whither to meet she knew not whom.

Meg had not yet recovered from the recoil she had experienced on hearing that she was so soon to meet her mysterious benefactor. As every moment lengthened the s.p.a.ce that parted her from surroundings which, if not altogether sympathetic, had yet the sweetness of familiarity, the unknown future presented itself to her invested with a touch of fear.

She combated this mood. Was she not hastening toward the human being who had shown solicitude toward her in her forlornness?

She felt almost sure that her protector would prove to be the stern stranger whom she had twice seen in her childhood, and yet there would drift up to her mind the possibility that Mr. Standish might turn out to be this unknown friend.

"I hope not," Meg said to herself, sudden shame overcoming her at the possibility of meeting so soon, and of owing so much to one upon whose personality her thoughts had dwelt so long. "I was a foolish sprite of a child when I cared for him. I am a young woman now," she murmured.

When she stepped out on the platform of the wayside station of Greywolds she looked about. Mr. Fullbloom was not there. No one appeared to be waiting for her. A farmer's cart and a private carriage were drawn up on the other side of the paling that separated the country station from the roadside. The single pa.s.senger who had alighted besides herself from the train got into the carriage and drove off; the cart after depositing a load of metal casks jogged away. Meg felt bewildered. If Mr. Fullbloom did not come for her, what was she to do? She had no money with which to pay her fare back. She did not know the name of the place to which to direct the porter to take her luggage after she had identified her modest trunk. The old sense of isolation so familiar to her in her schooldays paralyzed Meg, and her eyelids smarted, as if she were about to cry.

Suddenly a carriage drove up, the gate of the station was pushed open, and the dandified figure of Mr. Fullbloom came gayly forward.

"So, you have found your way," he said airily.

"I was afraid you had forgotten your appointment," Meg answered with dignity.

"I always a.s.sociate this train and ladies with unpunctuality," the solicitor replied with unruffled equanimity.

Offering Meg his arm he led her out. Nervousness conquered every other feeling, even curiosity. She asked no questions as she perceived a carriage with two horses and liveried servants awaiting her. She stepped inside, sank back into the cus.h.i.+oned seat, with Mr. Fullbloom by her side. As she felt herself bowled along she gave a little gasp.

The solicitor was very chatty. He inquired after her journey. He asked details of the parting with schoolfellows. He pointed out pretty bits in the landscape. Meg could not follow what he said; a longing for silence was upon her. She wished with all her heart her companion would hold his tongue and let her think and realize.

Presently the carriage drove through gates, thrown open to let it pa.s.s in. The way lay under an avenue of trees. A park stretched to right and left. As Meg looked round she felt sure this stately domain could not belong to William Standish.

"This is Greywolds Manor," said Mr. Fullbloom with a chuckle, pointing to a solid gray pile flanked with turrets at either end. "What do you think of your new home?"

Meg did not answer. Now that she knew for certain it was not the friend of her childhood who would welcome her when she alighted she was aware of an inconsistent disappointment. There came a sudden chill in the air.

The owner of this lordly place would not understand her. Everything seemed gigantic, repellent. The trees threw too much shadow, the suns.h.i.+ne was too bright, the ma.s.sive house too large for homeliness.

"Sir Malcolm Loftdale is the proprietor of this place. Now the mystery is out. You know the name of your benefactor," chuckled Mr. Fullbloom, the signals of mischievous enjoyment alight in his eyes.

The carriage had drawn up before the door of the mansion. Meg descended; she was aware of a discreet-looking elderly man helping to gather together her loose traps, of a respectable-looking dame in an impressive black silk gown coming forward to meet her.

"This is Mrs. Jarvis, Sir Malcolm's trusty housekeeper. I cannot leave you in better hands. Good-by, my dear," said Mr. Fullbloom. Kissing his finger tips and spreading them in the air, he disappeared through a side door.

Meg followed the housekeeper up a softly-carpeted staircase, fragrant with the perfume of flowers. She was vaguely aware of statues in niches, of limpid pictures dreaming on the walls. A knight of old entering an enchanted castle could not have felt more strange and bewildered, or could not have summoned more desperate courage than did Meg as she moved up that grand staircase.

She was ushered into a pretty bedroom, hexagon shaped. Through the windows looking out on the park at different angles poured the mellow light of the late afternoon. Meg, at the request of a trim maid in a dark gown and dainty muslin cap and ap.r.o.n, gave up the key of her trunk, painfully realizing as she did so the slenderness and shabbiness of the wardrobe that would be exposed to this smart young woman's gaze. With brusque shyness she answered the housekeeper's bland expressions of hospitality and exhortations to rest. In a trice the deft-handed, nimble-footed attendant had disposed of the modest stock of wearing apparel in wardrobes and drawers, and arranged on the tables the books, desk, and cheap knickknacks--parting presents from some of Meg's school friends; after which she disappeared with the housekeeper, to return after a few moments carrying a delicate porcelain and silver five o'clock solitaire tea-service, which she deposited on a table by Meg's side. Then the trim attendant, in tones as respectful as if Meg's belongings had revealed her to be a d.u.c.h.ess, asked if she could do anything more for Miss Beecham. On receiving a timorous negative she announced that dinner was served at seven-thirty; that the dressing bell would sound at seven. Could she help Miss Beecham to dress? "No, thank you," replied Meg hastily; "I am accustomed to dress myself."

With a sense of relief Meg heard the door close, and reflected that probably until dinner-time she would be left alone.

She poured herself out a cup of tea and looked round the room. It was a charming little chamber. Its shape showed that it was placed in a tower.

On all sides she was surrounded by sky and trees. After awhile she set about making a journey of discovery. One of the windows was over the mantelpiece; she tried to find how the flue of the chimney went to allow of this quaint arrangement. A bookcase stood in a corner; its shelves held a delightful selection of books. A water-color drawing representing a stormy sea, another of a peaceful and Arcadian scene, hung on the walls. Two miniatures--one of Queen Elizabeth in an immense ruffle, another of Mary, Queen of Scots--adorned a recess. The bed was large, with two pillows; the coverlid and hangings, of delicate sea-blue damask, matched the curtains at the windows. An electric bell was placed near the bed. Meg thought it was the prettiest, coziest little chamber she had ever seen, and her spirits rose.