Gladys, the Reaper Part 64

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

THE LADY IN HER OWN RIGHT.

When Freda reached her room, Gladys was awaiting her there.

'Why did you not go to bed, Gladys? you know I dislike your sitting up so late.'

'I could not go to bed, ma'am, feeling that I have offended you, without begging your pardon for having done so.'

'Then all you said was an invention.'

'I said nothing but the truth, ma'am, but perhaps offended you in saying it to you, merely to excuse myself. I am very sorry.'

There were traces of tears on Gladys' face and she looked pale and agitated.

'Gladys, you can go to bed, I have nothing to forgive. If you tell me the truth, I am very sorry for it, and that such words should have been said to you. Of course you did not believe them?'

'No, ma'am, I certainly did not.'

Miss Gwynne was fidgeting with her dress, and Gladys went to a.s.sist her, uncalled for. When it was unfastened, Miss Gwynne again said, 'Thank you, that will do; I wish you to go to bed; good-night,' and Gladys again obeyed in sorrow.

Miss Gwynne had little sleep that night, and the next morning she felt very ill. Much as she longed to lie in bed, however, and to avoid meeting Colonel Vaughan again, she got up when Gladys called her, and was, as usual, first downstairs. Much to her satisfaction, her father appeared next, and the colonel soon afterwards. She exerted herself to talk and laugh as usual, and the only difference in her manner to Colonel Vaughan was, that instead of shaking hands with him, as was her custom every morning, she busied herself with the cups and saucers when he approached, and simply said good morning. Her father remarked that she was looking ill, and she said she had one of her old headaches.

When breakfast was over, she expressed her intention of visiting the school, and said that, as Colonel Vaughan was going to Sir Hugh's, she probably should not see him again before he left. She wished him good morning and a pleasant visit, stiffly, but courteously; felt compelled to shake hands with him, and went her way with a proud but aching heart.

He also went his, wondering in his very selfish heart whether Freda really cared for him after all, and scheming to see Gladys, whose utter carelessness of him had roused his vanity.

When he had left Glanyravon, with a promise to Mr Gwynne of returning, Freda no longer strove to appear what she was not, and went to bed really ill. She was subject to occasional severe nervous headaches, and was obliged to be very quiet when so attacked, in order to prevent congestion of the brain, which the doctors had once threatened her with.

Her father, therefore, insisted on her keeping her room until she was quite well, which she was only too thankful to do, and so great were her actual sufferings from her head, that they distracted her mind from brooding over her real or imaginary miseries.

Gladys waited on her quietly and patiently for about a week, at the end of which time she began to feel better. Her grat.i.tude to Gladys for the perfectly un.o.btrusive nature of her attention was so great that she felt as if she could never do enough for her, and she frequently a.s.sured her that she knew she had been unjust towards her in accusing her of falsehood. She never, however, again mentioned Colonel Vaughan's name to her.

Mr Gwynne paid daily visits to his daughter's sick-room. In spite of her head, she could not help noticing something peculiar in his manner. He did not talk, because conversation was forbidden during these attacks, but there was an increased briskness in his eyes and step as he approached her, and, she fancied, more of anxious care in his tone when he spoke. She was sure he had something to communicate.

'Gladys, what makes you so calm and patient?' she suddenly asked, when she was getting better, and trying to reason herself out of her fancy for Colonel Vaughan.

'Perhaps, ma'am, trouble has made me calm, and I pray to be made patient; but I have a rebellious heart,' was the reply.

'Have you? I am very glad to hear it. Then there is hope for me. Now I am going to get up.'

Freda had made some good resolutions during the intervals of her pain, the princ.i.p.al of which were, entirely to forget Colonel Vaughan, or to feel only intense contempt for him; to be more gentle with her father, and more considerate of his nerves and peculiarities; more patient with the servants, school children, and poor people generally; to do more good, and to be more useful to others; but she had not made these resolutions in Gladys' spirit. They were not made with prayer for help, but in her own strength.

In the same way, she threw off the remains of her headache, and went downstairs again with a prouder step and a prouder heart than when she went up last.

In the library she found her father writing a letter and looking quite animated. He was so sprucely dressed that she asked him if he were going out.

'Not at present,' he said. 'I am so glad you are come down again. There is so much to tell you; I have scarcely been able to keep myself from letting you hear the news. Do you know it is all settled, and Gwynne Vaughan is actually engaged to Miss Nugent! Isn't he a lucky fellow?'

Freda felt suddenly very sick; she sat down in an arm-chair near her father, but did not speak. He looked at her, and said,--

'My dear, you are very pale still. Coming downstairs has been too much, and dressing, and--and--all that sort of thing. Let me ring for Gladys.'

'No, I shall be better directly. Only the exertion--yes, you were telling me--'

Strange that Mr Gwynne never supposed that Freda could be in love with any one. She had refused so many, and was so different from other girls, that the thought never entered his mind, and he had left her alone with Colonel Vaughan, and would have done so with Cupid himself, quite thoughtless of results. Moreover, his own natural inactivity and love of ease, led him to allow her to take her own course, as long as she left him alone to take his.

'Yes; I was saying that it is now quite settled. I believe he proposed the very ball-night to Miss Nugent, at least, and the next day went in form, and after certain preliminaries, was duly accepted by all parties.

Of course, he is quite unexceptionable, and she can do as she likes now she is of age. Lady Mary expected a t.i.tle, and I don't think she is quite satisfied. She told me--at least--they say--at least--of course, there are always objections, and--and--all that sort of thing, you know.'

Freda was too hard at work, trying to overcome a very strong desire to burst into tears, to observe that her father had not once used his favourite phrase, or lost the thread of his words, until he came to 'Lady Mary told me,' so when he stopped, she simply said, 'Really! Yes!'

and he went on again.

'I must confess, Freda, I am rather disappointed. I thought Gwynne liked you, and, indeed, I think so still. But--ah! my dear--you are so proud, or cold, or--or--that you refuse every one. It has been suggested to me by--ah! I have remarked, I mean, that you must have a secret liking for some one, not quite what one considers--ah!--eligible--and that--but, I am sure, Freda, I would make any sacrifice for your happiness, and should wish to see you married.'

'What do you mean, papa?' said Freda, effectually roused.

'Well, my dear, it is thought--I mean, I have fancied--I mean Lady--I--I--the fact is, are you attached to Rowland Prothero? Now, I am not angry, Freda; he is one of the nicest young men, and the best--but I should have preferred Gwynne, or Sir Hugh, or--or--in fact, many others, in a worldly point of view. A tenant's son, and only a curate!--and all that sort of thing. But then as Lady--as--as I--as your father, my dear, I should like to make you happy. You see, that day at the vicarage, we--that is to say, I--thought there was something peculiar in his manner and yours; and to be sure, he may be a bishop, he is so good and clever. A great favourite of mine. And if he lives in London, it doesn't so much matter; and--and--in short--Freda--'

'Papa, I understand,' said Freda, rising from her seat with majestic pride, 'Lady Mary has been kind enough to suggest, doubtless for her own ends, what never could have entered your mind. I am very much obliged to you for forgetting, on my account, what I cannot forget on my own, that I am a Gwynne of Glanyravon! and I daresay you meant it kindly. But you may make my compliments to Lady Mary Nugent, and tell her, that if there was anything peculiar in Rowland Prothero's manner on that particular Sunday, it was because he had been bold enough to propose for me, and I had rejected him. You may tell her also that if he had asked her daughter instead, she would have given him herself and her fortune quite as willingly, and, I believe, more willingly, than to Colonel Vaughan.

With her it is a case of "first come first served."'

When Freda had given her message to Lady Mary Nugent, she walked out of the room. But scarcely had she crossed the hall when she turned again and re-entered it.

'Papa, I must beg you _not_ to tell Lady Mary Nugent that Rowland Prothero proposed for me. He is at least a gentleman, and a man of honour, and deserves to be treated as such with all due courtesy. The more I see of men, the more I begin to think him one of the few true gentlemen one meets with. I should not even have told you this had it not escaped me in reply to what you said, because I thought it would annoy you, and perhaps make you feel unkindly towards the Prothero family. But you may tell her, if you like, that were Rowland Prothero not the gentleman I begin to perceive he is, Miss Nugent and her money might be his.'

'But, Freda--after all--if you do like him. You see, his uncle married a Perry, one of the oldest families in Herefords.h.i.+re, niece of the baronet, daughter of the dean, cousin of the present baronet.'

'My dear father! I know all the Perrys by heart. Mrs Jonathan is not likely to have left me ignorant of their antiquity. But, pray, do you want to get rid of me, that you force me upon poor Rowland, or him upon me, whichever it may be?'

'Of course not, my dear. Only I am naturally anxious to see you settled.

And if you really like him--'

'But I am settled, and I do not like him; that is to say, I like him well enough, fifty times better than I used to like him, but I have not the most remote intention of marrying him. And now, I should like to know what particular reason Lady Mary Nugent had for putting this absurd notion into your head. There must be something, my dear papa, under all this sudden anxiety to get me married. You used rather to rejoice when I declined settling Glanyravon on a suitor.'

'Yes, my dear--but--you see--it is not quite certain that Glanyravon--I mean that you--I mean that I--in short--the fact is--you are so impetuous, Freda.'

'What can my impetuosity have to do with it?'

Freda saw that her father was more than usually nervous and fidgety, and became alarmed lest there should be some sudden money difficulty, as any threat, however slight, of debt or involvement always made him ill. She sat down beside him, and putting her hand in his, as it rested on a table nervously fidgeting with a pen, she said gently,--

'Now, pappy, I hope we are not all going to jail?'

'By no means; the tenants are most prosperous. I could raise any sum if necessary, and give you a marriage portion suitable in every way.'

What was there in this marriage scheme? Freda grew impatient and indignant again.