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Chapter XXX. ‘Stone Walls Do Not a Prison Make.’

It was too true. General Hawke’s brougham was drawn up at the door of Carweston House. When it had moved on, and Mrs. Strange’s carriage had stopped, her first question to the servant was, ‘Is Mr. Hawke here?’

‘No, ma’am; a lady. She is waiting to see Miss Ashley.’

‘Is your master in?’

‘No, ma’am.’

‘Who can this be, Mabel?’ said Mrs. Strange, as they went into the hall. ‘He said something about a chaperon. I wish Anthony was in; but I’ll take care of you, child, never fear. This lady is in the drawing-room, I suppose?’

Mrs. Strange walked into the room, followed by Mabel, whose astonishment was great at seeing a tall hard-featured woman, dressed in black, rise from her chair, and move forward with outstretched hand.

‘O!’ she said. ‘Miss Wrench, Mrs. Strange.’

Mrs. Strange remembered hearing of Miss Wrench, and received her graciously. Mabel stared with wide melancholy eyes.

Miss Wrench took out a note, and presented it to her.

‘That will account for my presence here,’ she said. ‘Mr. Hawke was unable to come himself. Miss Ashley looks much better for her stay in the country air.’

‘Yes, I think she does,’ said Mrs. Strange, ringing the bell. ‘I hope you have not been waiting for us long?’

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‘No; not ten minutes,’ said Miss Wrench.

‘We have just driven back from St. Denys. How is General Hawke to-day?’

‘He is a good deal better, thank you, as that note explains. I arrived last night. You may as well ask Mrs. Strange to peruse the note, Mabel.’

Miss Wrench seemed inclined to take up her old authority. Mabel quietly gave the note to her friend, and while Mrs. Strange read it there was silence, except that she looked up to say to the butler,

‘Bring tea, if you please.’

‘My dear Mabel,—We have now endured your absence for a fortnight—I speak for my father as well as myself. He is better, and gets up, though he does not leave his room yet. He is exceedingly anxious for you to come back; and I have thought I might facilitate matters by asking your old friend Miss Wrench to come down to us for a short time, till he is up and about again, that you may not be without a companion. He wishes me to say that he hopes you will find no difficulty in returning to-day with Miss Wrench in the carriage. He begs to thank Mrs. Strange for her kind hospitality to you. You understand that I am writing entirely for him, and I am glad to think that he is well enough almost to dictate the letter. I will say no more, as I hope to see you this evening.—Yours ever,

‘Randal Hawke.’

‘Very well, my dear. We must have your things packed up at once,’ said Mrs. Strange quietly.

Mabel looked at her with pleading eyes; she thought Anthony would not have given her up so easily. And if Dick was there! But Mrs. Strange had been unkind enough not to ask him to come back with them to dinner, an invitation that Mabel had watched for so page 279 anxiously. Was there really nothing for it but to go back to her prison? And how awful Miss Wrench looked! Here Mrs. Strange differed slightly from Mabel; she thought Miss Wrench had an honest face, though narrow and severe. She would have felt much more distrust of a more plausible person. Yes, it must be. Mrs. Strange poured out her tea, talked agreeably to the forbidding stranger, and was cruel enough to ask Mabel if she had enough sugar. Sugar! when her heart was breaking! She was a naughty rebellious girl at tea, and when she went up-stairs soon after the tears were running down her face. Did Mrs. Strange really know what Randal was, that she sent her back to him without any compunction? O Dick!

Some minutes later, when Mabel was alone in her room, Mrs. Strange knocked at the door and came in. She sat down in an armchair, and told Mabel how sorry she was to lose her.

‘But, my dear girl,’ she said, ‘we must remember that General Hawke is your guardian after all—your father made him so—and no one else has any legal right over you. I am only so glad that he is better. You don’t dislike him so much, do you?’

‘O no,’ said Mabel dismally. ‘He was always kind.’

‘I knew him pretty well, some years ago,’ said Mrs. Strange, ‘and certainly he had then the feelings of a gentleman. And you must remember that we live in England, in the nineteenth century, and that it is quite impossible for you to be made to marry any one against your will. The thing can’t be. Now take my advice: make the best of Miss Wrench. I believe she is a good sort of woman, and will take care of you, if you will only let her. And—if Randal says anything more to you, complain to his father. Not fretfully, like a child; but like a woman with a character of her own. And I page 280 should say the sooner General Hawke and Dick understand each other, the better for all parties.’

‘But there’s Randal!’ said Mabel, for Mrs. Strange seemed to ignore the one ruling power at Pensand.

‘Well, and if there is Randal!’ said Mrs. Strange. ‘Randal is not a brigand or a kidnapper, though he may be fond of his own way. Randal has no right whatever to control you, as long as his father is alive. Remember, you are a free woman, with a right to a will of your own. General Hawke may perhaps prevent your marrying before you are twenty-one, but he cannot make you marry against your will. Now cheer up, be spirited and determined. You could be brave enough if Dick’s life depended on it; remember that his happiness depends on it, as well as your own. And be as friendly with your guardian as you can.’

Mabel came up smiling, and kissed Mrs. Strange, murmuring a few words of thanks.

‘Don’t thank me. I like to see young people happy,’ said Mrs. Strange. ‘Now I must go down-stairs. I left Anthony to entertain Miss Wrench, because I thought you wanted a lecture.’

‘Yes, I did. I will try to be more contented,’ said Mabel penitently.

‘The Pensand fortifications are hardly strong enough to keep Dick out, are they?’ said Mrs. Strange as she left the room.

Mabel screwed up her spirits and courage, and talked to Miss Wrench all through the drive. She also met Randal, who received them at the door, with a calm self-possession which surprised him. He saw at once that there was a change in Mabel. It was not only that she looked better and handsomer, but somehow in that fortnight she had managed to grow up. She no longer coloured and looked down when he spoke to her, but quietly met his eyes; some new strength seemed to have page 281 come to the girl, and a new cheerfulness with it. Miss Wrench was also astonished at the change, which she attributed to the influence of this agreeable and handsome Mr. Hawke. From this it is plain that Randal restrained his feelings, and did not let Miss Wrench see what a bore he thought her. Mabel had come to the conclusion that she was a blessing.

The advance of autumn was giving a little wildness to the garden, where there only remained a few scattered roses; but the view with its many colours was lovelier than ever. When they looked out after dinner the moon was up, and long soft shadows were lying across the lawn.

‘Is it too late to go out?’ said Randal.

‘Yes, I think so,’ said Mabel. ‘I am going up-stairs now to see your father.’

‘Shall I come with you? You will find him rather deaf.’

‘No, thank you,’ said Mabel gravely. ‘I like better to go alone.’

She went up slowly and thoughtfully to the old man’s room. Mrs. Strange seemed to think that her fate depended on him so much more than on Randal, and this was rather comforting, if she could bring herself to believe it. But then Randal had always represented his father as quite equally anxious with himself for that marriage which was now happily impossible. So that it was with some doubt and anxiety that Mabel knocked gently at the door, opened it, and stepped noiselessly into the General’s room. It was shut up for the evening; two candles were burning on the table, and the General’s armchair was drawn up close to a bright little fire. The old man looked white and weak and worn out as he lay back in his chair; but it was a noble old face still. His eyes were shut, and he seemed to be asleep. Seeing this, Mabel came gently forward and sat down on page 282 a footstool near him in front of the fire, from which she shaded her cheeks with her two hands. There she sat for half an hour or more, watching him and listening to his even breathing; so busy too with her own thoughts, that she did not feel the length of time. Something told her that life was a different thing now—that she only had the right to give herself away, and that now she had done it, nobody could undo it. As long as Dick and she were true to each other (and that of course would be always) no real misery could come to her. It did not matter where she was, in Pensand Castle, or Carweston House, or in the freedom of dear bright St. Denys. Even two years might be lived through, under such conditions, Mabel almost thought. Presently General Hawke opened his eyes, and saw her sitting there. The change in his breathing told her that he was awake, and she got up and came to him. He held her hand affectionately, and drew her down to kiss him. Then she brought her stool close to his chair, and he kept her hand in his, while he talked to her in low kind tones, half reproaching her for going away from him; but then saying that of course it was best for her, and asking what she had been doing at Carweston. It made Mabel very happy to perceive that all the wandering had passed away from his talk; his brain had recovered its strength; the only sign of weakness seemed to be this touch of gentle patient indulgence. She could not say that he had ever spoken to her unkindly; but yet there was a change, a wonderful softening. It almost gave Mabel the terrifying idea that he was going to die. He talked slowly, and sometimes half to himself; but all that he said was thoughtful and pleasant to be heard.

‘Ashley’s child,’ he murmured once, after a little silence. ‘She has his eyes, too; he used to be like a pretty girl, though there was not a finer fellow in the page 283 Staff Corps. Mabel, my dear, do you remember the day when you first came here?’

‘O yes; how beautiful it all was!’

‘Poor old place! And what a shy little girl you were! You look stronger and livelier now, I think. I am sadly changed, you see. I shall never be fit for anything again. Remember this—it is as well to take care how one lives, for” the night cometh,” and then the work is done for good. The night is come to me. I am a great deal older than your father. I married late in life; but you know all that. An odd fancy of Randal’s, isn’t it, to send for your governess again? We did very well in the summer. I hope he doesn’t mean her to stay long.’

‘Not after you are down-stairs, I think,’ said Mabel, colouring a little.

‘Then I’ll come down as soon as possible,’ said the General, with more cheerfulness. ‘We must get rid of her. Then we can go on living as we did in the summer, and we’ll have another drive to Morebay.’ His brow clouded, and he looked at Mabel anxiously. ‘What was that story about Randal and Mrs. Lancaster?’

‘Had we better talk about that now?’ said Mabel gently. ‘It is all over, you know, and it is wiser to forget those things.’

‘I don’t understand it clearly,’ said the General. ‘Did he want to marry her? Very extraordinary.’

‘He did at one time; not now,’ said Mabel.

‘She was pretty, but a person of no family. Randal will never marry, I suspect; he wants so many things. And his debts are becoming serious. What do you say to a mortgage on Pensand, our old home, where our people have lived for generations! It was reserved for my son Randal to bring that to pass. Don’t tell him I mentioned it to you.’

‘No. How dreadful! I hope it won’t come to that,’ said Mabel.

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‘It will, if it has not already. Randal has so many difficulties. He is a strange fellow. Do you know what he has been bent upon, my dear, for some months past?’

Mabel bent her head. General Hawke put out his thin hand and stroked the red cheek nearest him.

‘Poor Randal! Have you given him any answer yet?’

Mabel turned round and looked up into the General’s face. He should understand one thing, at least, she thought.

‘Randal has asked me a great many times,’ she said, ‘and I have given him one answer. I cannot marry him. I never could. The thing is quite impossible.’

The old General looked sad, but he held her hand still.

‘When my father made you my guardian,’ said Mabel, ‘he did not think, did he, that you would try at all to make me marry against my will? He must have trusted you; he must have thought you would take the same care of me that he would have taken himself. You know I could not be happy with Randal. Please don’t say anything more to me about marrying him.’

Her eyes were full of tears; but there was a brightness and a courage in them, and a strength in her voice, though it trembled, of which General Hawke was quite well aware.

‘Come, Mabel,’ he said, ‘you must not do me injustice. I did enter into Randal’s plan, it is true, and for many reasons; but one of them was that I liked the idea of having you for a daughter. You are right about him, though. And I see you are capable of judging for yourself. I must leave you to yourself, then, in these matters. Take my promise. No undue influence of mine shall be exerted to make you marry anybody.’

The General had spoken in a clear voice, quite like page 285 his former self; but he sighed, shook his head, and drooped weary eyelids when he had done. Mabel pressed his hand by way of thanks.

‘We won’t say anything to Randal about that,’ he went on presently. ‘But it would be wrong, very wrong. Time spent in a sick-room makes one see right and wrong so much more clearly. Curious, too, that you should have reminded me of what your father would expect. I had been thinking of it myself. But Atkins & Jones are managing your money matters all right; so you have not come to much harm through us, having a will of your own. Well, well, I wish I had never undertaken it.’

‘You have never been anything but good to me,’ said Mabel affectionately.

‘Thank you, my dear. I am glad it has happened so. Randal would expect me to be sorry, but the old place may as well go; it would never prosper, if unfair means were used.’

He did not seem inclined to talk any more; but Mabel sat by his side for some time longer, till Randal came into the room.

‘How good and kind you are!’ he said, in a low voice, standing on the hearth-rug.

‘I like this much better than being down-stairs,’ said Mabel.

‘Not so sorry to be at home again?’

‘If your father wants me, I am glad to be here,’ she said, glancing at the General, who was sitting with his eyes closed; he had hardly roused himself when his son came in.

‘You don’t consider me?’ said Randal, in the same undertone.

Mabel shook her head with a slight smile.

‘You are changed, Mabel. What is it? I need not have sent for that good woman down-stairs, to please page 286 Mrs. Strange; you are quite equal to chaperoning yourself. Tell me what it is that makes you so different.’

‘Some day I’ll tell you, perhaps,’ said Mabel.

‘Some day you will tell me everything, won’t you?’ said Randal.

Mabel was more surprised every minute to feel that her dread and horror of him were gone, and that his presence made no difference to her.

‘I don’t know—but I’ll tell you that,’ she said.

He stood looking at her, as if she was some interesting puzzle, while she gazed into the fire.

‘Do you think my father much better?’ he said, half under his breath. ‘Never mind, he can’t hear, and he is dreaming, besides. To tell you the truth, I don’t expect him to last much longer. His mind is so very strange; have you noticed that?’

‘No; not at all,’ said Mabel. ‘He has been talking to me quite sensibly.’

‘Not like himself, though. Hasn’t he been talking religion, and counting up his sins, and wishing he could live his life over again, and manage things better—better from his present point of view? I have heard a good deal of that lately.’

‘I see nothing strange in it,’ said Mabel. ‘When you are old and ill, perhaps you will feel the same. I hope many people do, and I don’t believe it is a sign that their minds are weakened.’

‘You are a very effective preacher,’ said Randal quietly, as he stood looking across at his father. ‘Yes; even I, too, may come to this.

“Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.”

It is certainly good for us to contemplate our latter days, the end of this “strange eventful history;”

“Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”

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Nevertheless, Mabel, it will be bad enough when it comes, without thinking of it beforehand. Have you seen your white kitten since you came back?’

‘Yes,’ said Mabel. ‘She is very much grown.’

‘Poor Fluff has been neglected lately, and I have felt it,’ said Randal.

‘O, not at all. She is a lovely creature. I like her very much,’ said Mabel. ‘Now I think I’ll go down to Miss Wrench.’

The General half roused himself to wish her goodnight, and Randal held the door open for her.

‘The angel in the house,’ he whispered, as she went out.

Mabel was brave and cruel enough to answer this scrap of sentiment with a careless little laugh.