An Afternoon Call.

Evening Star, Issue 9582, 31 December 1894, Page 3 (Supplement)

An Afternoon Call.

1 —— '-+— " Oh, the little more,,and how much it is 1 . e, And the little less, and what worlds away! -. ." And life be a proof of this! • ~ » ROBERT BROWNING. b room was very still. Nan t isJEßaflf roused hiwelf from a half doze, 1 ■ glanced wearily at tne s MRMlß|familiar surroundings. How she . tSgggSilshated thetn all 1 And how little - she had done to alter them; in spite of her I braveresolutionesixmonthsago, when George I* Mason brought her home to the dull little • house in the still duller provincial town, i and she had been with such emb barrassing warmth by his mother and his k sister Bertha. : J Was ever anything quite so hideous and i revolting as the" clock which graced the b mantelpiece ?—an erection in which. the dial ' plate was the least important item, and a I blowsy ormolu nymph, of redundant oharins, and grasping a Bhield and spear in either f shapeless baud—the one fact which - riveted : the gaze. r Nan's tired eyes travelled listlessly from . this, her pet abomination, to the macrame^ i lace which - adorned the mantel-border, and ' which was Bertha's chtf d'mivre; to the magenta rep sofa opposite, with its dreadful I crinkly crochet antimacassars; to the sham ■ inlaid marble table, painted to represent a I chess board, on which stood a glass-shaded i group of wax fruit; to the " cheese and butter press," with its marble slab and ; mirror back; to the woolly mats, alabaster > vases, and photograph albunis which Uttered • the large centre table, and to the highlyi colored views of impossible Alpine scenery ; which dotted ihe walls at i egular intervals. With an impatient shudder, she rose and ; moved to one of the moreen-draped windows —a slender figure silhouetted against the dull February sky outside. If Nan-hoped to find enliveument from tho prospect, she was doomed to disappointment. The wide \ street wore its usual afternoon look. A cart or two lumbered heavily past, the doctor's ( gig rattled by on its busy way, and now and ' then a worthy matron bustled along the , side-walk, on shopping or visiting intent, 1 sometimes accompanied by a blooming daughter, whose exaggerated sleeves and coiffure & la Grecque showed that fashion , had penetrated even thus far. The chilly wind blew the dust into little heaps and wreaths, and the grey houses opposite shut ! out what might have been a pretty view of low-lying fields and distant river. Nan ' caught sight of the corndealer's wife, who lived just across the way, peeping at her through a Venetian blind, and, with a 1 sudden gust of unreasoning irritation, she turned back into the room. At least, there ' was a fire here; and, with a woman's crav- ' ing for warmth of some kind, she sank down on the'sheepskin rug, and rested her tired little head on the seat of the chair which ' she had recently quitted. Oh, it was mean of her -to be so dis- ; contented and irritable, Bhe knew, when ' George and his relations were so kind to her ! And what a haven of refuge, in spite of its ugly furniture, the little old house had appeared to her not so long ago! How homelike it had seemed after the awful London boarding-house, which was all that remained for her when the dear old grandfather died, and, failing a will, the ne'er-do-weel uncle from Australia and his terrible wife sent her adrift from The Chase! How bitter had tasted the bread of their charity, scanty though the pittance allowed to her had been! She had not thought so much of that hateful time for a long while past; but the dreary day seemed somehow to bring it all back. And she remembered, with a sudden warmth at her heart, how good George had been to her, first at the old home, where he had come in the capacity of family lawyer, and afterwards, when he had sought her out in her terrible loneliness in London. How faithfully he had carried out all his promises! how 'truly he had loved and cherished her! Why, oh why, did she mind his wearing carpet slippers? And why did her heart ache so agonisingly when she thought of the old Chase, with its stretches of lawny park to wander through during the summer heats, its stately comfort in the dark winter days, its dear inmates now parted from her by death or distance ? As the utter bathos of the connection of thoughts struck her, Nan got up from the hearthrug, and, taking a book, resolutely began to read. It was a dry treatise on geology, peculiarly uninteresting in its composition ; but Nan had lately made the laudable resolve not, to allow her mental powers to rust any longer, and the book in her hand was the best, of a solid kind, which the circulating library in the High street could furnish. She had not read for long, however, when the street bell tinkled sharply. "Bertha returned from the Zenana Mission meeting at Mrs Price's," thought Nan ; and she drew her level brows together a little, in her efforts to master an involved description of geological strata. In another moment, however, the drawing room door was flung open, and the little parlormaid, very white as to cap and apron, very red and excited as to face, gasped out: "Mr Anstruther!" and retired precipitately. Nan rose to her full height, and her face grew so white that the man who had just entered hastened forward, fearing that she was going to faint. But that was not Nan's way;. she was far too sound, and sweet, and altogether wholesome for swoons or hysterics. " Jack 1" she said, and no more. Anstruther took both her little bands in his, and looked eagerly at the small pale face, his own handsome one lighting up with a glad smile. " Why, Nan, little Nan, how good it is to see you again! I've missed my little cousin so all these threo long years." " Have you ?" said Nan. "Come and sit down near the fire." Even in that first sweet moment of meeting she-shrank with a morbid dread from letting herself feel too glad. No, no, she must not be glad; she must not be the old Nan! Better the deadly stagnation than the flood of recollection which was pouring in upon her, choking her, bewildering her, at the sound of Jack's voice, the touch of his hand, the magic of his smile. " When did you come back?*' she asked, trying hard to keep her voice steady. ! "lonly got to town on Tuesday, and came down to The Chaße last night. My iwelcome there was not very warm. Ah! Nan, how I missed the dear old man, and " —tenderly—"thelittle cousin too! That uncle of ours is bad enough, but, by Jove, his wife is infinitely worse—she's an awful ;woman ! .'By the way, it was she who told me of your marriage, Nannie dear I never heard a word of it till yesterday, but expected to find you at The Chase. You see, /all our letters from home went astray lately, as I suppose ours to you did." " For some time past I have not felt certain that you were not dead too, as-well as grandfather," said Nan, simply. "It was so long since a letter had come from Persia, and in the last one we got—yes, it was ' we' jthen, before he died "-r-with a break in the tender voice—"you had said that you were' foing to a wild part of the country, and so feared the worst. You can't tell.how utterly glad I was to see you walk in just now, safe and sound !" " My .poor little darling !" muttered Jack below his"breath. "Tell me, Nan," he went on in louder terms, " did those two interlopers make life too hard for you at The Chase ? That woman told me that you were married in London." " Oh, Jack, it was no choice of hard or oft for me. They simply would have none of me. Uncle Stephen told me plainly that my father had been a vawrien, and grandfather " —her pale face • flushing crimson—- " an old dotard who kept me out of charity. Nay, let me finish," she said laying her hand softly on Anstruther's sleeve as he uttered a fierce ejaculation. "They told' me that' they would allow me fifty pounds a year on condition I never came near The Chase, and so I went to a boarding-house in Bloomsbury, and began to look out for employment, whioh'iieVer came. It seemed so queer, Jack, when I found my first Quarter's monev melting away so terribly last,, to think'l had-6q one occasion fretted;dreadfullybei' cau'sel couldn't, by hook or,by crook, get skirt' braid to match 'a pet heliotrope dress!" _ - • \- --™ " Don't, Nan," said. thejyoting p»anrhoarsely; " you hurt me. ( Whaf did jou do, yon poof"little r thing?< !An<jUwhy,,in the namtrxtf common sense,' "didn't you let your friends know«boatyou?" -

- '! You were'Oflt simply, „ and her frank-mention* of him' as ;her opif source of help made AnstrUther'K 1 ' heart throb strangely.' "The few people;!knetf. seemed to lose all interest in me when j grandfather died, and" bo at first ? "was really glad to ; be alone in London. ' Doesn't that suggest "a Sunday story book?"-i*and a she laughed a little mirthless laugh which ), seemed to stab him. e "I wish to God I hod been in this e country," he groaned, his eyes fixed moodily e on the red-and-orapge Kidderminster at his r feet. 0 ", And then George came," continued e Nan, softly, "and be was so. kind and ~ gentle, and said he would fctake me away .. From Blo'omsbury; and his mother would a take care of me; and so . . . slnd so . . . I came," she finished, lamely. i "Couldn't you have waited a little, e Nan?" he aßked, very quietly,' without ,1 lifting his eyes. a. Nan's slender hands gripped each other i, tightly on her knee; ah, she must shut that r door which is opening slowly in her mind, i and letting in the torturing thoughts ! She must think of George, dear George, kind i George ; must dwell on all his goodness and £ patience towards her, his loyalty of thought J and word arid deed. "My God, help me, b for I do want to be good !" moaned the poor 1 girl in her heart, and then writhed away i from the idea of there being any danger, any x need for prayer. I " Woirt you speak to me, Nan ?" asked I Anstruther, and his keen hazel eyes dwelt 1 longingly .on the bent bright head. All the r woman in Nan rose to maintain the dignity 1 of her wifehood. "Yes, Jack," she said evenly, "what do j you want rae to say ?" "I want to know if you're"happy, my I poor darling," he answered, rising and pacing B restlessly about. "It all seems so queer, 3 bo different to your old life. Do you really 1 like living in this little house—-really like 3 your surroundings ?" And as he spoke he, 3 for the first time, took a comprehensive t survey of the gaudy little room. " Gad ! I j can almost fancy I hear you abusing the [ pokey little town and its inhabitants, as you 5 used to do in the old days when you drove in, for some shopping, from The Chase. My » poor little Nan, why did you do it? Why [ didn't you wait and trust T i For one moment, one awful moment, the 7 whole room darkened and rocked before 1 Nan's eyes, and all she saw in the surroundb ing blackness was Jack's face, with its f pleading eyes, its tender mouth . . . i and it seemed to be drawing her, dragging j the secret from her breast. "Even the r weariest river winds somewhere safe to i sea," stole into Nan's mind, and why should 3 she struggle any more? Why not allow 3 herself the bitter solace of confessing that - she had made a mistake, had sold her birthl right—the right of every woman to love ai:d 1 be loved with heart, and soul, and body—i for a mess of pottage ; had stultified heart and brain in her vain effort to find rest aud - peace? Her agonised eyes gazed straight i back into Anstruther's, and he must have > read his answer in them, for he started imf pulsively forward, his hands outstretched, I his eyes glowing with love ; when, with one . supreme effort, she rallied her failing faouli ties, and, looking up at the ardent face bent I above hers, she said firmly and rather , loudly: i " Why, because I loved him, of course !" : Ah ! Nan ; true wife, true woman—surely [ that innocent lie will be forgiven you ! r Anstruther let his hands drop at once, and I his eager face paled. "Forgive me, dear ; f I had no right to ask such a question; it i was an impertinence on my part. I might ; have guessed you had good reasons—the t very \ best of reasons—for your conduct. I Tell me, when shall I have the pleasure of [ seeing your husband ?" [ Nan answered gently that she thought [ George would soon be returning from the i office, but as she spok'e she steadied herself with one little trembling hand against the j sofa near which she stood. * Such moments [ as the one through which she had just ) passed cannot fail to leave some trace behind, | however slight. She saw, with inward [ thanksgiving, that Jack had noticed nothing, i and, sitting clown on her low chair near the [ fire, she smiled bravely at liim. ; " Sit down, Jack, won't you, and tell rae i all about your travels ?" And so these two, so near to each other in ' the body, so far apart in spirit, sat together over the firo while tho shadows gathered, and his traveller's tales were told, his long absence and silence all explained. " She is as dear a little thing as ever, but ■ she never really loved me," thought the man. " Why didn't he come home long ago; .Thank God, I did not let him see the truth !" sobbed the girl in her inmost heart. So engrossed were the two that they did not hear George's noisy closing of the hall door, and he was in the room almost before they were aware. His entrance admitted a > flood of light from the lamp on the landing outside, and, as he caught sight of Anstruther's tall figure rising to meet him, he exclaimed, in a loud, jovial voice : " Why, Annie, I didn't know you had company this afternoon. But I'm sure I'm Very glad to Bee any friends of yours," and he extended his large red hand in pleasant greeting. George Mason, like Jack Anstruther, was > tall and broad, but these the likeness ended; i what was muscular grace and well-bred ease in the one, was mere awkward weight and strength in the other; and the frank blue eyes and ruddy cheeks of the country solicitor could ill bear comparison with Anstruther's bronzed, manly beauty. Nan i saw all the difference in one rapid, unwilling > glance, and felt, with a thrill of what was . almost horror, that Jack seemed far more real to her, far more a part of her life, than i the kindly, commonplace man yonder, who i called himself her husband. God pity the woman who makes a mistake, of whatsoi ever kind, in her marriage ! Nan made known her cousin and husband to each other, and the two men stood with i their backs to the fire, which George had i poked into a cheerful blaze, and "got on swimmingly together," as he afterwards told his mother and sister. Anstruther's Persian experiences afforded plenty of material for conversation, and it was not altogether one-sided, for Mason made up for lack of knowledge by an abundance of cheery self-confidence, and Nan's cheeks, in the dusky corner where she sat, burnt.hotly at his naive mistakes. Even the very timbre of the poor man's voice jarred on his wife's ear,- now growing used again to Jack's deep, gentle tones, so long unheard, so terribly missed. It seemed to Nan as if she were living through years of agony while the men prosed on in the firelight. How plain it all was growing to her now; how blind and dull she had been not to see that it was Jack's departure for the East, and the subsequent terrible uncertainty as to his safety, which had, far more than even her dear grandfather's death, made the last year so utterly sad and wretched. In heir uncertainty, her loneliness, she had clutched at the first friendly hand, not realising, poor girl, in her youth and innocence, all that marriage means —its self - surrender, its ' finality. : How little is guessed, even by one's nearest and dearest, of the tumult which sometimes rages in one's soul; of the conflicts lost and won, the brave resolves made, only too often, alas ! to be broken ! Both these men loved Nan, each after his own fashion ; but neither dreamt that, while they were idly talking, she was dumbly praying for help to crush down the unlawful love in her heart, to infuse vitality into her pale affection for the man she had married. At last Anstruther turned towards her, and held out his hand. " You seem tired, little girl, and I've paid you a regular visitation ! I must really take my departure." But George interposed. "Indeed, you shall do nothing of the kind, my dear sir, until you've at least had ' a glass of wine or cup of tea. My mother would never forgive me if I list you go without sdme 1 refreshment. In fact, I'm much mistaken it I don't hear the tea eoming at this moment.'" j AsHie spoke the 1 door opened, and, in the' midst of her' real and' deep ufihappiness, Nah ! Was" a mingled feeling of dismay and' helplessness as her mother-in-law and Bertha in followed byjjusan wibttlighte ; ' ' ..' , ; -Never"'sincfe^she'"bad shared the Maspn manage, had Nan known tea to be served 7 sri the drawing room y It bact always ridkedjas " a meal, not a refreshment," to 1 quote Mason, sen,, and as subh ,4t had'he%' : dis> ' pe byflolopUt oregs,.

.fcm ®* hj |H Thereis:always < .an element W; t ) the unknown, tmdrNaa ghvno^iaia^ionsbr.^t ! *; the flushed Susan, Ja see ahe>haa : ' 'brought,'and where she meant to dispose ; . - ', < - ■' -\<- ; •■ 1 , But first Jack had to be introduced totne* > new-comers, - -and ■ the* gadfly' stings . of , shamed Be&wmsoiouanessbeoame sharper shd ' more frequent in Nan's aoul, her love- ' ' sharpened eyes saw his lips/fcwitoh wlth.in--1 voluntary amusemefit and wonder at Mrs ,tfaeon's well-meant platitudes, and-poor Bertha's still, more harrowing airs and 1 graces.- How. dreadful to 'Nan, with • the ' - Jack of dear dead and gone days beside her, ' were her mother-in-law's claret-colored silk ' dress and' green cap ribbonß, her brown front, hair-ornaraeated brooch-, (the scant ; grey looks of the defunot Mason pAref, and. ' ornate phraseology; but how much worse Bertha's would-be fashionable attire, and. the affectations of provincial epinsterhood. ! ' And yet they bad been, and daily were, 1 both so good to her—such truly kind friendß 1 to a lonely girl, abandoned by her fine' [ acquaintances, who had conveniently recol- ' lected all her dead father's iniquities as soon. ' as her grandfather's death seemed to call for < their help and protection. " Anstruther was too gentlemanly to let his amusement be apparent, and when Called to ' the tea-table by the sprightly Bertha, even . Nan searched in vain for a twinkle~bf fun in L the hazel depths of his eyes. A large papier- ' mache tray had been placed on the centre * table, to one side of which Susan had swept ' all the albums, mats, and paper cutters, and on the tray was a bright - Britannia metal 1 teapot, a glass basin—moulded, not outfull of granulated sugar, a cream jug to match, and five oups and very '< thick as to make, end gorgeous with gilding and idealised views of ancient Rome. Nan recognised Mrs Mason's best tea-service, ' usually kept in chaste seclusion in the china closet, and* was touched -even while she ' shuddered. Two plates flanked the tea-tray, meagrely 1 furnished, tho one with thin slices of bread, curling dryly under the scraped salt butter, 1 and the other with biscuits Of the kind -called " Mixed Sweet," amongst which the choking, dryas-dust cracknels abounded. Nan dully wondered if Jack remembered the pleasant afternoon teas at The Chase, with the tea-table Bet out on the lawn on hot summer days, and beside the great fireplace in the hall during the winter. Mrs Mason began solemnly to pour out tea, with an evident sense of responsibility which kept he"r silent, until she had filled all the cups and added the milk and sugar with unquestioning liberality. Anstruther, who never took sugar in bis tea, accepted his cup from the good lady with Spartan cheerfulness, and was fondly hoping he might manage to evade the biscuits and bread and butter, when she exclaimed: " Annie, my love, your cousin has nothing to eat! Do persuade him to take a bite of something." And so Jack resigned himself. He felt as if he were assisting at a play, and a'curious sensation of unreality oppressed him; only Nan's dear little tired face was real and familiar. " And how di.d you like Persia, Mr Anstruther?" babbled old Mrs Mason. " Didn't you find it terribly hot ?" "Oh, but mamma dear!" exclaimed Bertha, "you are forgetting about the charming bungalows, and punkahs, Aud—er — samovars! They must lessen the heat so much!" Jack was on the point of saying that he had found a good big samovar a first-rate protection against the rays of the sun on a sultry day, when he caught sight of Nan's embarrassed face, and contented himself with remarking that he had not, on the whole, found the Persian climate very trying, though he was right glad to be back in' England again. Bertha was delighted with her own conversational powers, and proceeded to further distinguish herself by asking Mr Anstruther if he was much interested in Zenana Missions.- "But I suppose not," Bhe added, with a titter; " of course gentlemen aren't allowed into the harems" (pronounced as if to rhyme with sarum), ".are they?" "Not usually," said Jack, with a quiet smile ; " at least, I never was !"' " Dear me," broke in the worthy George, " and yet 1 should have called you quite the ladies' man! I should have thought you would never have rested until you had seen everything in that line." Which brilliant sally, while it made poor Nan's cheeks hotter than ever, convulsed his mother and sister with merriment. Nan longed for Jack to go that this slow torture might cease; longed to hide herself in a cool, dark room, away from the glare of the paraffin lamp and of the candles on the tea-table, and, if that were possible, away from the haunting longings, the mad regrets. «, And yet, had it come to this, that Jack's dear presence could add to her pain, and not to her joy? The voices buzzed on, and at last she roused herself to listen, when she heard Jack asking Mrs Mason why they all balled his cousin "Annie," instead of " Nan." "Nan is-such a dear little name," she heard him say, " and so exactly describes her, I think' —smiling affectionately across at her. "Now Annie is so much stiffer, and seems utterly unfamiliar. Why, 1 don't believe I ever heard her called so before, and it was not yesterday that I made her acquaintance!" « The old lady bridled a little as she answered his query. " Well, to toll you the truth, Mr Anstruther, we none of us fancy the name 'Nan.' I always have thought it rather vulgar myself, and it seemed a more fitting appellation for a farm servant than for my son's wife ! Now, 'Annie,' to my mind, is Bwee«ly pretty, and quite the thing—quite 'cummy-fo,' in fact!" and Mrs Mason breathed hard after delivering herself of this French expression. "No offence, I hope, "sir?" laughed George, putting his arm with an air of fond proprietorship round the shrinking Nan. (And yet why should she shrink ? was she not his wife ?) " Every one to his taste, and I daresay it seems a bit queer to you to hear this little woman," patting her shoulder, "called out of her namf, as it were; but, you see, she's a Mason now, and likes what we like, bless her !" Poor little Nan! To many minds this may seem much ado about nothing; but, for my part, my heart aches for her as she sat there in the vulgar little sitting room; her life all awry; the consciousness of an awful, irreparable mistake—for long dimly guessed at, now-undeniably recognised in the light of Anstruther's presence, weighing her down; and, worst of all, the man whom now, too late, she knew she. had always loved, leaving her under the impression that she was quite content, quite at home, in this congenial atmosphere. But still, perhaps.it was best so. . Ho was going now, had made his adieux to Mrs Mason and Bertha, and had promised the latter a donation towards her special branch of the Zenana Mission; now bo was turning towards Nan, was holding out his hand. She laid hers, cold and nerveless, in his warm grasp, but dared not lift her eyes; with that torturing sense of detail which some women can never escape from, she noticed how beautifully kept were the nails of the strong brown hand, bow white and fine .the linen of his cuff. "I believe I should feel worried if my coffin were dusty," She thought, and aearly laughed aloud at the foolish fancy. But she must wake up to the present, must shake off this stupor, or Tack will be gone before she has bjdden him farewell. Bravely now she raised her sweet eyes to his face, afraid to look too long, lest he should read her misery in them, but in that fleeting glance learning off by heart all the dear, familiar outlines. " Good-bye, Jack; when Bball we see you again ?" j "Well, not for some time, Nan, I'm afraid. You see,, old Mackenzie wants me to be ready to Bet' off again, lor Africa this time, at the end of April, and Imtwl get through some visits in, the North before that. I'm so glad you are so happy, . dear.," he wept .an> in a ? lower tone; "and if I can't iwiseibly manage juid .see you^gain r befof§;-I.leave, I shall feel jt a, comjort tptjbink.yau arftgafe in the keeping of. suet a good fellow as Mason," a'ua hewrungiho little tender; hand hard. * s >V;s^ge|#,>iath«^i.bim,^t oyer now. ', : . l v . b - „ - ;7,!Be* Up s»dSirst time yojtt're odr way/'eaiC Mason, cordially, as -

his wifeV^n^'do^M -1 r oiie^ther.w'inQows^; :the curtains of which were stf out, she saw ,in* .'mow#s , Uuttftoousr disc- just rising in'SMeast* and silvering the fittto a semblance of / oeauty,'' - .homely village sounds otttsioe b»c^3p£ away into the silence of 4>win^;ewSte(^ and with the, coming night Nan fetb^ca^ 1 and peace stealing into- her soui' Sjft! wa»,i Very sad, very weary ? bat, after aE^fifi^ meant more than merely being Tiappy/^ands 1 her, duty lay very plain before her* 1 ; J Bhelj ' must "e'en dree her -weird," but, Heaven' helping.her, she would do that bravely.}*-._;-, Georges return broke in on her rausingi/**' "Well,?* he said, cheerfully, robbing iasy hands together as he 'spoke, "thatfs whai'K consider a real good fellow! None of .your" 'fine gentlemen, l>ut a g°°<*» outaprften^, downright Englishman. He doesr'yottf credit.as a relation, Annie, my girl";"be" • -does indeed." ,' - - ' "I-thought him a very ciril,, pleasant young man, only a trifle interfering about; Annie's name; but perhaps- that ~wat; natural, seeing he'a her cousin.' '' NowTlV go and hurry on supper, as we'd all snob a poor tea. I did it. to please you, Annie, lay love; but I'm sure that you'll be the-firet yourself to confess that this-new-fangled afternoon tea seems but a shabby affair when' you're accustomed to a decent. Bit-down meal! We'll have a well-buttered crumpet' to-night, to follow the sausages; I know you're always partial to a crumpet,"George. dear," and the old lady bustled oft "Now, this is what I call comfortable," said George Mason, and seating himself,, with a sigh of content, in a large armchair . beside the hearth, he stretched his slippered feet to the blaze. ' ,~ Nan slipped out of the room.