CHAPTER XVILL TIDINGSIn its modest way, Alton Lee, which stands upon the South Devonshire coast, was quite a show place. There the Rents had held their sway for the best part of three centuries, since the founder of the family first came West and built the old house, which his successors had altered out of all recognition. The history of the family had been fairly uneventful. They had married with their neighbours, and more than one heiress had come along to swell their fortunes. For the most part they had been people of moderate ideas, clean-living, healthy-minded men and women, not endowed with too much intellect, and perfectly contented with their lot. At present the Rents were represented by Arnold himself and his mother, an elderly lady, who was exceedingly popular with all who knew her.Ever since Arnold Rent had left school his mother had been more or less afraid of him. That she was passionately devoted to her only son goes without saying; but she herself had been brought up in the simple, narrow way. She had an almost morbid horror of anything that was in the least unconventional and a mighty regard for her neighbours.And her boy was totally different in every respect. The knowledge that he had an inclination for work had filled her with tranquil happiness and a sense of security, which, however, was not destined to last. There being several livings in the family gift, there had been no reason why Arnold Rent should not settle down to the career of a country parson. But from the first he had other plans which in Mrs. Rent's opinion were almost revolutionary. The limited field did not appeal to a man of his views and restless energy, and with many misgivings his mother had seen him start an entirely different career of his own choosing in London. That he was squandering money on this did not matter. The past three or four generations of Rents had not spent anything like half their income, so there was money enough and to spare. There was no anxiety on that score.From time to time Mrs. Rent had reports of her son's progress. She was convinced that knighthood was within his grasp if he could only control some of his advanced ideas and bow to the voice of authority. At any rate he was strong and good and in earnest. On the whole, it seemed to Mrs. Rent that Providence had been more than kind to her.She was in the garden now busy among her roses. The rose gardens at Alton Lee were famous. Even in that well-favoured spot there was nothing like them. And the lady of the house fitted well in with the picture. She walked with a slight stoop; one long, slender hand was closed upon an ebony crutch-stick; her delicate features were half hidden by a large, shady hat. For the rest, her hair was grey and abundant, and her blue eyes beamed with a kindly expression. She was the embodiment of an elderly lady of the old school, which is fast becoming extinct. With all beneath her she had the widest sympathy. No tale of distress found her unmoved, but she had undemonstrative pride, for all that. There were people in the neighbourhood who said that Mrs. Rent was haughty and distant, but most of these were newcomers whose money had been derived from trade. As to the wealthy financiers who play so prominent a part in Society to-day, not one of them would have been permitted to cross the threshold of Alton Lee, though Mrs. Rent was always pleased to see the little curate's wife to dinner.She cut the last of a basketful of large, dark, red-hearted roses and dropped into a garden seat with a sigh of placid satisfaction. It was a perfect afternoon, with just the suspicion of a breeze rustling the great oaks in the park. Across the middle distance a herd of deer moved slowly and gracefully. Away to the west the blue sea lay placid in the sunshine. From one of the side paths a girl came along, carrying a huge mass of sprays of maidenhair fern in her hand. She was not particularly tall or strikingly beautiful, but there was a rare attraction about Ethel Margrave's face that grew upon one the more her features were studied. But the eyes of deep blue were the chief attraction. No one ever failed to notice these liquid azure lakes which drew to her every man and woman of her acquaintance. She came gaily along and dropped into the seat by Mrs. Rent's side."My dear auntie, how busy you have been!" she exclaimed. "I thought I should have been in time to cut at least half those roses for you; but I suppose I stayed too long in the greenhouses admiring the orchids. I won't get the drawing-room flowers done before tea-time, at this rate."Mrs. Rent smiled indulgently at the speaker. Next to her son, there was nobody in the world whom she loved as deeply and sincerely as her niece, Ethel Hargrave. If she had one wish left ungratified, it was that Arnold and Ethel might some day be master and mistress of the old house. The dream had gradually deepened till it had become almost a passion, but it looked now as if the elderly lady was going to be disappointed. Perhaps the young people had been too much together to fall in love with one another. At any rate, Arnold Rent had always looked upon Ethel as a sister. And there was something in Mrs. Rent's disappointment that had a touch of pain in it. Those kindly blue eyes could look keenly enough at human nature sometimes, and Mrs. Rent had more than a suspicion that Ethel cared deeply for her son. There were moments when this knowledge filled her with anxiety."Let us sit here and talk a little longer," she said. "There will be plenty of time for your drawing-room flowers. Did I tell you that I had a letter from your father this morning? He hopes that he will be able to get away from Australia for a long holiday at the beginning of next year. What a long time it is since you saw him! And what a pity it is that you photograph so badly! I have been thinking it over lately and I am going to give my brother a surprise. I have been in communication with one of the most famous artists of the day, and he is coming here to paint your portrait.""What a distinguished honour!" the girl laughed. "My dear, you are making quite a Society woman of me. Will the picture be exhibited in next year's Academy and be reproduced in the ladies' papers? Really, I ought to be quite angry with you for such extravagance.""Oh, I am glad to find you don't mind," Mrs. Rent replied. "Besides, I want a proper picture of you myself. We were only talking about it the last time Arnold was here. By the way, have you heard from him lately?"The girl flushed at the mention of Rent's name."Oh, dear, no," she said. "Arnold is much too busy to trouble about a simple country girl like myself. The last time I heard from him his letter was one of tirade and abuse of the doings of Society. I understood he was moving in it himself, so that he would be able to speak from personal knowledge. Do you know, my dear aunt, I wish Arnold wouldn't be so dreadfully serious. One feels a poor creature by comparison. I should like to see him do something foolish. You know what I mean.""Oh, I think I do," Mrs. Rent smiled. "It would be nice if he made a mistake or two and came down here for us to sympathise with him. But one never feels sure of Arnold. I expect to hear every day that he has gone over to the Rationalists, or taken monastic vows, or some equally dreadful thing. But you may be sure that Arnold would never do anything to make one blush for him."The mother spoke with a serene pride that brought an answering smile to Ethel's face. Attached as she was to Arnold Rent, she would have preferred him to be a little more human. Like most girls who live a good deal alone, she had her imaginative moods, and was fond of picturing Arnold as wounded in a conflict and coming home for her support and sympathy. She dismissed the mental picture now with a sigh of impatience. There was not the least likelihood of Arnold stepping from the straight path. He would go to high honours in the world. He would marry some noble woman of great intellectual attainments to help him in his work."I think we spoil him," she said. "However, it is no use talking about it. But, surely, my eyes don't deceive me. That must be Mr. Westlake coming down the drive. What brings him here? Something dreadful must have happened to induce him to leave his beloved London."Mrs. Rent rose with a sudden feeling of approaching trouble. It was rare, indeed, for the old family solicitor to come to Devonshire, especially without warning. The elderly man approached the garden-seat and raised his hat. Nothing could be gathered from his austere features except a trace of anxiety on his brow. He murmured something in reply to Mrs. Rent's question, then glanced significantly at Ethel."Very well," the girl said. "I see you have come on affairs of state, so I'll run away and finish my flowers. Don't forget that it is very nearly tea-time."CHAPTER XVITHE HONOUR OF THE FAMILYArnold Rent's mother waited for the lawyer to speak. She scented trouble."And now, my dear old friend, what is it?" Mrs. Rent said quietly. "I see you are in great anxiety about something. I suppose it has to do with money. But, in any case, I am sure you are in no way to blame.""It has nothing to do with money at all," Mr. Westlake replied. "From that point of view, things were never better. Before I go any further, have you had any news of your son lately? Have you heard this morning? I thought, perhaps, possibly——""Arnold!" Mrs. Rent exclaimed. "Something has happened to him! You are keeping me in suspense.""Indeed, I am not," Westlake protested. "So far as I know, there is nothing wrong with your son, who was perfectly well last night. But it is to consult you about Arnold that I have hurried here to-day. I learnt something yesterday and immediately went out to Southampton last night, where my worst suspicions were confirmed. It struck me as strange that a young man in his position should be telegraphing for money, and I heard one or two rumours in the early part of the week. You must not be too hard upon the boy, because one never knows what temptations unscrupulous women put in the way of impressionable men. And, if I may be allowed to say it, in worldly matters Arnold is a little lax."All the colour left Mrs. Rent's cheeks. She sat for a moment with her hand pressed to her heart. Then her dignity and courage came back to her. Her voice was tranquil as she spoke."Perhaps you had better begin at the beginning, my dear friend," she said. "A mother is always anxious about her child. She has gloomy moments when she fears the worst. I won't say that Arnold has never given me any anxiety, because that would not be true, but I never dreamt he would so far forget himself as to tarnish his good name and honour. Do you mean to say that he allowed himself to get entangled?""That would be hardly fair," Westlake said, with lawyer-like caution. "I am told that the lady is exceedingly beautiful and that she has been very unhappy in her married life. She has been described to me as a sweet saint, a kind of Madonna—just the sort of creature who would be likely to appeal to a chivalrous, romantic man like your son. I believe that the husband turned his wife out of the house, or that he sold the house over her head, which comes to much the same thing. Unfortunately, Arnold appeared on the scene at that very moment, and that is how the trouble began. At any rate, the mischief is done and nothing we can say can alter it. The worst feature is that Arnold's career is seriously checked. He will have to delay matters. He will have to abandon his experiments till this fancy is forgotten. No one would listen to a man who had been god in the car to another man's wife. Of course, this sounds very cruel, but, then, you are always so rational and reasonable that I can speak to you the more freely. Believe me, I would have given half I possess if I could have saved the situation before it was too late.""I know it," Mrs. Rent said quietly. "My dear Richard Westlake, this is a bitter blow to me. As yet I can hardly realise it. He must have been mad. He must have been carried away by impulsive good-heartedness. But we are wasting time. I must see Arnold. I suppose I shall even have to see the woman. I shall have to sit down in the same room with her.""That is the point I was coming to," Westlake said, almost eagerly. "I want to prevent those misguided people from coming here. That must be avoided at any cost.""Here!" Mrs. Rent murmured. "Do you mean to say that that woman would have the audacity to come to Alton Lee?""I think you will find that that will be the programme," Westlake said shrewdly. "Unless I am mistaken, Mrs. Charlock will pose as a martyr, driven to despair by the brutality of a cruel husband. If she gets a footing here the whitewashing process will be half complete. It will be held that she has the support and sympathy of so great a lady as Mrs. Rent. And even if the other man takes proceedings, as he is sure to do, half the people who read the case will come to the conclusion that Mrs. Charlock is an injured woman. She may be a saint, of course. But that is not a synonym for a fool."Mrs. Rent looked despairingly across the park. She was beginning to appreciate the full force of the disaster. Her pride was in arms. The strong side of her character began to show uppermost, and there was a depth and force in her moral nature that few people dreamt of. Her duty was plain. If it wounded her to the heart, she must do that which was right and proper."I begin to see my way," she said quietly. "I will go and see my unhappy boy and this woman. I will go up with you to-day. It may be that there are extenuating circumstances. Indeed, I shall only be too glad to be able to take a lenient view of this disgraceful affair. But if you will give me Arnold's address I will telegraph to him that on no account is he to come here. It would be an outrage.""To tell the truth," Westlake confessed, "I have already taken the liberty of sending a telegram in your name. I did it directly I got the news. You see, there was no time to be lost, and they might already be on their way.""Quite right," Mrs. Rent murmured. "By the way, what did you say was the name of this woman? It sounded familiar.""Charlock," Westlake explained. "I believe her husband is an artist, or something of that kind.""I wonder if he is any relation totheCharlock?" Mrs. Rent mused. "I have been in correspondence with him. But I suppose that is out of the question, especially as there are two or three Charlocks who are artists."Westlake glanced at the speaker. She was taking the blow with far greater resignation and courage than he had expected. The colour had crept back into her cheeks. Her face was strong and resolute. Come what might, she would do the right and proper thing; she would vindicate the honour of the family. She rose now and suggested that it was time for tea."It seems strange to mention the meal," she said, "but I suppose the world will go on the same, even though this black disgrace has fallen on the family. But fancy having to tell Ethel! My heart sinks at the mere thought of it. And the servants, too, every one of whom was born on the estate. But the thing will have to be done, bitterly as one resents it. Everybody must know. There shall be no attempt at deceit or prevarication. As soon as we have had tea you had better decide to take a stroll in the garden and smoke a cigar. I shall not be able to rest till Ethel knows the story. Now give me your arm."In silence they passed between the rose-bushes, across the velvet lawns to the drawing-room. The light was subdued, and Mrs. Rent was grateful for it. She had no desire to be under the scrutiny of Ethel's keen eyes. The girl came forward from behind a bank of roses and fern. Something suggested suppressed excitement in her manner."Well, are all the secrets told?" she asked gaily. "Or has Mr. Westlake got a surprise in store for us? But, whether he has or not, I have a surprise for you. You know you were talking just now of a famous artist who was to paint my portrait. What would you say if I told you that Mr. John Charlock is in the library at the present moment?"Something like a groan escaped Westlake's lips."The husband," he murmured. "The husband, for a million. Now, what on earth is the fellow doing here?"There was a startled expression on Mrs. Rent's face."This had not occurred to me," she murmured. "Strange that I had failed to notice it. Fancy a thing like this happening in so quiet and respectable a house as Alton Lee! It reminds one of those dreadful plays where extraordinary events take place in the most unexpected quarters. Who could have foreseen the elements of such a drama four-and-twenty hours ago? I should have said this would be the last house in the world to entertain anything like this. But perhaps the misfortune will prove to be a blessing in disguise. Don't you think we might settle matters, now that Mr. Charlock is here, in such a way that there shall be no scandal? I cannot possibly believe that my son is——""An ordinary human being," Westlake said cynically. "My dear madam, when a young man comes in contact with a beautiful woman who is cold-blooded and playing entirely for her own hand, nobody knows what will take place. Believe me, this is not the time for weakness or compromise. It may be that your son is acting from the highest possible motives. It may be that his soul is full of chivalry and all that kind of thing. Nevertheless, I should like to hear what you have to suggest."Mrs. Rent pondered the matter for a moment."Cannot you think of anything?" she asked timidly. "Oh, I don't know how to act. I can't think what to do for the best. And yet it seems as if this were a direct intervention of Providence. On the other hand, you may say that it would be far better if Mr. Charlock left the house without delay."CHAPTER XVII"LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG"Ethel Hargrave turned with a startled expression on her face."What do you mean?" she asked. "Is there anything wrong, aunt? You both look as though something dreadful had happened.""Never mind that for a moment," Westlake interrupted. "It so happens that I am particularly interested in this Mr. Charlock. Tell me, what is the gentleman like?""I like him," Ethel went on, "though he does remind one strongly of a bulldog. He has a tenacious, fighting face. But I always was fond of bulldogs. They are such gentle, faithful creatures when you come to understand them.""You have been talking to him," Mrs. Rent murmured."Oh, dear, yes. We had quite a long conversation. Our introduction was as unconventional as the most bohemian could have wished. Mr. Charlock came up the drive carrying a poor little terrier in his arms. I fancy the dog had been run over, for it was bleeding from a wound in the side, and making a horrid mess of Mr. Charlock's grey flannel suit, which fact I ventured to point out to him. He didn't even take the trouble to reply. He was too busy with the dog. I suppose this incident impressed me favourably. Only a really kind-hearted man would have taken all that trouble about a toy-terrier."Mrs. Rent and Westlake did not appear to be listening. The solicitor turned to his hostess and elevated his eyebrows."This is certain to be the same man," he said. "The circumstance is so extraordinary that it could not be anybody else. I think there is one thing we can count upon—he has not come to make any disturbance. I should not be surprised to find him utterly ignorant of any relations between that lady and your son. It is unfortunate that he should be here at this moment, but it can't be helped. Don't you think it would be as well if I saw him and explained matters?""Perhaps you had better," Mrs. Rent murmured. "Naturally, I have a certain amount of sympathy for Mr. Charlock, and I agree with you that he has only come here to talk over Ethel's portrait. If you will be so good as to see him——""What is all this mystery?" Ethel demanded. "Why am I being kept in the dark? Not but what I shall know sooner or later, because dear Aunt Helen is one of the most transparent women in the world. It would be impossible for her to keep a secret for more than a day."Westlake turned to Mrs. Rent."You had better tell her," he said. "Meanwhile, I'll go and see what I can do with the artist."Westlake's tone was so grave that the smile faded from Ethel's cheeks. She placed an arm around her aunt's neck and kissed the white cheek tenderly."I know you are in some trouble," she murmured. "Tell me what it is. You have lost all your money?""Not a penny," Mrs. Rent replied. "A money loss would be nothing to the trouble I am suffering now. It is difficult to tell you the truth, but it will have to be told. You know how proud I have always been of Arnold. You know how I have boasted that the boy could do nothing wrong. Well, he has disgraced us. There is no other word for it. He has forgotten his duty to God and to himself. He has deliberately broken one of the Commandments."Ethel's face grew as pale and colourless as that of her companion."Do not be afraid to speak," she murmured. "Try to forget that I am not a child. What has Arnold done?""There was a woman," Mrs. Rent said incoherently. "She was a married woman, which makes matters worse. And now she has left her husband ... with Arnold. I could not say more if I sat here all night. Of course, one could find excuses for the boy. One could argue that he has acted in this mad fashion from chivalrous motives. But the sorry truth remains that these two have gone off together, and that scandal is bound to follow. Of all the paths of dishonour that my boy might have trodden, I cannot think of one more discreditable than this. Don't press me to say more. Don't ask me for details, for I have none to give you. Mr. Westlake came here at once to break the trouble to me, and I have no doubt that I shall have a long letter from Arnold in the morning.""What are you going to do?" Ethel asked. She could think of nothing else to say. "You will see him, of course.""I don't know. I am not sure. I have been a fond and loving mother to Arnold, and I have striven to do my duty by him, but, also, I owe a duty to society. And everything that I possess is at my discretion. If I like to say the word, Arnold will rise to-morrow without a penny. I have not said much, because I hardly realise the magnitude of this disaster. Shame and disgrace like this must not be allowed to go unpunished. I don't wish to be too hard upon anybody, but I cannot believe that that woman would have thrown in her lot with my son unless she had known he had great expectations.""I see what you mean," Ethel said. "You are going to take a firm stand. But why not wait? Why assume that there is anything really wrong? It is not just to Arnold. You do not mean to disown him?""Oh, no, no," Mrs. Rent cried. "I could not do that. That might be the means of sending a poor, unhappy creature headlong to her ruin. We may find Mr. Charlock——""Mr. Charlock!" Ethel exclaimed. "Do you mean to say——""I am afraid so," Mrs. Rent went on. "I am afraid that the cruel irony of fate has brought the poor gentleman into this house at the most inopportune time. It may be mere coincidence, but that is almost too much to hope for. What was I saying? Oh, yes. You see, when the law gives Mr. Charlock his freedom, it will be a point of honour on Arnold's part to marry this woman. Common humanity will prevent me from interfering. Common decency would compel Arnold to take that step. And do you suppose that that wicked creature would care much, so long as she had money to spend? She would make Arnold take her on the continent. She would drag him down to her own level. The best years of his life would be wasted. But if I say that they must go their own way, without assistance from me, Arnold may pull himself together and live down his disgrace. Don't you see, I wish to find out what this woman is made of? Perhaps Mr. Charlock may be a wretch, and have driven his wife in sheer desperation to take this step.""I don't believe it," Ethel said firmly. "I don't believe that a man who would take so much trouble over a stray dog could be guilty of unkindness. There is something about his face that I like. But I interrupt you.""What was I saying? Oh, I want to test the woman. I want to see if she will remain true to the man whose life she has spoilt in the face of adversity. If so, then in the future she has little to fear from me. Meanwhile, I have made up my mind. I will stop Arnold's allowance. He will not receive another penny from me. He is strong and brave and clever. He is equipped for the earning of his own living. All this I will tell him when we meet to-morrow. It will be something for him to find out that I have a side to my character which he has not dreamt of. You may not think that I am right. You may say that I am hard and cruel——""You could never be that," Ethel murmured. "I am very fond of Arnold, and this has been a terrible blow to me, not the least so because it has wounded my pride. But I don't want to talk about myself. I am certain you are right, and that, in the circumstances, you could not do anything else. But you will let me go with you to-morrow. I know that Mr. Westlake will accompany you, but a man is so useless in times like these. Besides, I have a desire to see the woman who has come in and wrecked our paradise. I want to judge her for myself.""That is out of the question," Mrs. Rent decided. "But here is Mr. Westlake."Westlake came slowly into the room. He could see that Mrs. Rent had told Ethel everything, and that, therefore, he could speak freely."It is just as I thought," he said. "This is the husband of the woman who has infatuated your boy. As you may imagine, Mr. Charlock feels the situation acutely. Of course, it occurred to him that you were the mother of Arnold Rent, but he himself is here on business. He says that you invited him to come at the first favourable opportunity, offering your hospitality, which a day or two ago he thankfully accepted. In his letter he fixed to-day, and said he should be here at the time mentioned, unless he heard from you to the contrary. Taking your silence for consent, he came. And, mind you, till I told him a few minutes ago, he had not the faintest idea of this madness between Arnold and his wife. I should like to save you as much pain as possible, but you must see him."CHAPTER XVIIICUPBOARD LOVECharlock's wife was easier in her mind. When the start was made she could see her way clearly. The long journey was coming to an end at length and the period of inaction was nearly over. Kate Charlock sat in her seat, her eyes half-closed, smiling serenely. Arnold Rent thought he had never seen her smile like that before. It seemed to him that he was one of the most fortunate of men. Hitherto, it had never occurred to him to ask himself a question. He had not paused to debate whether this woman loved him or not. Perhaps he was afraid to face his own vanity. He had made the suggestion on the spur of the moment, carried away by a spontaneous outburst of love and passion, and Kate Charlock had responded without a struggle.Yet he could not doubt her. It was impossible to doubt her. No woman with a face and smile like that could have done other than follow the dictates of her heart. She had placed herself in his hands, and so long as he had health and strength she should never repent it. No woman had ever been loved before as he loved Kate Charlock.And she, on the other hand, sat there with beautiful lines of resignation on her face, looking the embodiment of all that was good, and pure, and holy. She seemed to be raised above the level of the common earth. And yet she, too, was thinking as she surveyed Rent under the long fringe of her eyelashes.He was a nice-looking fellow, she told herself. She regarded him with a certain amount of good-natured contempt. No doubt he would make a man in time, but he would have many lessons to learn first. He would be easy to manage, too, despite his square chin and the resolute lines of his mouth. He would not be surly and self-contained, like John Charlock. On the whole, Kate saw a pleasant prospect before her after the scandal was forgotten and things resumed their normal footing. She knew exactly what the process would be. For a year or so they would be studiously avoided by even the most frivolous of her friends. Then people would languidly inquire whether or not there had been some scandal in the past, and after that others, bolder than the rest, would be calling on Mrs. Arnold Rent. They would come fast enough, provided there were good dinners and entertainments worth sharing, and Arnold Rent would have to provide all those things. It was all very well to talk largely of living in a quiet, frugal way and giving nine-tenths of his income to the poor, but Kate Charlock would see to all that. It was the man's obvious duty to make things smooth for her and pave the way into the pale of Society again. It didn't matter much about the man, for in these matters the man never suffers. It is always the woman who pays.The prospect was alluring, and accounted for the heavenly smile which Arnold Rent was studying so rapturously. And yet behind it all was a fear that Mrs. Rent might step down from her high place and shatter the fond illusion. Arnold Rent might say that his mother idolised him. It was easy to prophesy that she would come forward and welcome the fugitive with open arms. The elderly lady might be all that her son claimed for her, but she was proud and prejudiced, and had all the conventions of her class. What if she were to put her foot down firmly? What if she refused to see them? The telegram she had sent to her son did not indicate a conciliatory spirit. Still, if once the threshold were crossed, it would not be easy to dislodge the culprits, and Arnold Rent as yet had not seen anything but the mere fringe of the artifices which his companion had at her fingertips. She turned to him presently, a little tired of her gloomy thoughts."What is your house like, Arnold?" she asked.Arnold Rent's face lighted up with pleasure."Oh, Alton Lee is a beautiful place," he said. "I don't know what kind of architecture you call it, for it has been built from time to time, as occasion required. Now it is one mass of ivy and creeping plants. To my mind, it is the most beautiful place in Devonshire. It is so restful and peaceful, and I don't believe there are any roses like ours in the world. I suppose, too, there is not a finer collection of antique furniture in the South of England. I have known my grandfather entertain a hundred visitors without the slightest inconvenience.""How charming," Kate Charlock murmured. "But that kind of thing is very extravagant. I suppose that is why so many of our great families have become so poor."The speaker uttered the words thoughtfully, as she gazed dreamily out of the carriage window. Rent did not notice what lay behind the simple speech."Oh, we are by no means poor," he said. "I don't suppose the Rents have been more mercenary than other people, but it so happens that most of them married money. Our tastes have been fairly simple, too, and we have been very lucky in our advisers. The last time I saw our solicitor, Mr. Westlake, he told me that I should some day have the control of an estate worth nearly a million."Kate Charlock smiled and murmured something to the effect that money was not everything. Nevertheless, the statement filled her with the keenest pleasure. In her mind's eye, she could see the stately house rising above the sea. Already she was beginning to rearrange the various rooms with their priceless furniture. She saw herself a popular hostess, eagerly sought after and invited everywhere. Arnold Rent was placing his future in her hands now, but it was only like casting his bread on the waters, and the thing would be worth a struggle. It would be glorious to live the scandal down and force the people who regarded her coldly at first to come cringing for an invitation to Alton Lee. For the moment Kate Charlock thought she was genuinely in love with the man opposite. Truly, fortune was favouring her. She was getting her recompense for the five dreary years which she had endured under the roof of John Charlock.She was quite convinced of the fact, too, that the blame was wholly Charlock's. Itmustbe so, since all her friends had said so. She looked back now to the past five years with complacent pride and soothing self-satisfaction. But all that was going to be altered. Before two years had passed there would be no more charming or popular hostess in England than Mrs. Arnold Rent of Alton Lee. If only Arnold's mother——Ah, there was the trouble. With a subtle instinct all her own, Kate Charlock made no attempt to blind the issue. It was from this quarter the trouble was coming. She felt certain of it. She closed her eyes and feigned sleep. She was getting a trifle tired of the sound of Arnold Rent's voice. She wished he were a little less boyish, a little less certain of his ground. Then, for a while, she sank into oblivion, sitting up with a start when the train stopped at a small station."We are here," Rent explained. "It is only a short way to the house, and I will take you a near cut through the grounds. Let us slip away before the station-master comes fussing along."It was not dark yet. The air was full of the smell of flowers. The peaceful silence was restful and soothing. But Kate Charlock was not thinking about that. Her mind was possessed with the reflection that all this was her companion's property, and that very soon she would be mistress. She had no keen eye for the beauties of the country, but even she was moved to admiration as the path sloped upwards and the great sylvan landscape began to unfold itself. She saw the wide stretch of the park, where the deer were moving like phantoms in the dusk. She noted the outline of the grand old house beyond. For the moment she was touched and thrilled. It was not the first time she found herself in one of the stately English homes. She had always envied the lot of folk who were blessed in this way, and soon she would actually have one of her own."Is it not perfect?" Rent said, with a thrill in his voice. "Are you surprised that I should love the place as I do? The time will come when you will be just as fond of Alton Lee as I am myself. Isn't it a paradise?""It is, indeed," Kate Charlock said rapturously. "But do not let us think so much of our own happiness when there are others to consider. I am more concerned for your poor mother than anyone else. Do you know, I should be almost thankful if you made up your mind to turn back, even at this moment. Oh, Arnold, do you think that your mother will allow me to stay?"Arnold Rent smiled convincingly."I have no doubt about it," he said. "Of course, I don't disguise the fact that this will be a terrible shock to my poor mother, but, you will see, she will make the best of it, especially when she comes to hear your story. I am going to leave you here till I can make you my wife. That is one of the ways by which we can stifle the breath of scandal. And when you become a member of this household——"Kate Charlock quickened her footsteps. Something like a chill passed over her for a moment."Come along and let us get it over," she said. "The suspense is more than I can bear. And if your mother fails me in this dreadful crisis, why——"CHAPTER XIXUNBIDDEN GUESTSMeanwhile, Mrs. Rent was with Charlock in the library. She saw before her a tall, thick-set man, whose hard features and smileless eyes impressed her with a fancy that he was the central figure in some dark tragedy. Yet there was that vague something about John Charlock that appealed to the woman's sympathies, for he, too, had suffered like herself. The same woman who had ruined Arnold Rent had brought shame and disgrace to John Charlock. He stood bowing gravely till Mrs. Rent came forward and timidly held out her hand. Then, at length, he spoke."This is a cruel trick that Fate has played us," he said. "Believe me, if I had known what had happened I should not be here this evening. I suppose Mr. Westlake has explained to you how the misunderstanding came about. And I think I know now why you did not get my letter. I had placed it with others on the hall table two days before. It was the day I lost my home. You see, I have been in great money difficulties, due principally to the extravagance of the woman who is my wife. One of my creditors stripped my house of everything, and left me nothing but the bare walls. I am not complaining. I had fair warning, and the money was honestly due to the man. Doubtless, in the confusion of the moment, my letters were lost sight of. But perhaps you will think that I ought not to stay any longer. I daresay I can find some accommodation in the village till the morning.""Indeed, you cannot," Mrs. Rent exclaimed, all her hospitable instincts on fire. "There is no house of entertainment within some miles of this and the few cottages around are impossible. I appreciate the delicacy of your feelings, but you will have to remain till the morning. And the thing is no fault of yours.""My wife's friends will tell you otherwise," Charlock said, with a bitter smile. "They will tell you that she is a sweet, saintly creature who put up with my cruel indifference till human nature could bear the strain no longer. Indeed, your son was good enough to tell me so. As a friend of my wife's, he ventured to expostulate with me, a comparative stranger, on the way I treated her."All the blood came flaming to Mrs. Rent's face."He didn't," she said hoarsely. "He never went so far as that. It is incredible. What did you say?""I said nothing. I never say anything. The heart knoweth its own bitterness. There is no man on earth who has learnt the wisdom of that saying more than myself. And why should I try to put the world right? In the eyes of most people I am a boor and a brute. I had no business to tie a beautiful woman to a personality like mine. Why should I waste my time in proving to the world that the world is wrong? Why should I proclaim from the housetops that I am a broken and disappointed man, with nothing but my work to fall back upon?"Charlock appeared to have forgotten himself. The words burst in a stream from his lips as he paced up and down the room. Never before had he shown his heart like this to a stranger. Yet there was something like sorrowful sympathy in the eyes of his hostess that seemed to draw confidences from him."I think I understand," Mrs. Rent said gently. "Is your wife, then, so wonderfully prepossessing?""I think she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Charlock said, in the same tense tones. "She is outwardly the embodiment of womanly innocence and purity, and I gave her all the heart that a lonely and self-contained man possesses. How she has repaid me I leave you to find out for yourself. And yet, if she were to come back to me now and place her hands upon my shoulders and ask me to forgive her, I should be as wax in her hands. Wait till you see the woman called Kate Charlock before you judge your son too harshly. But, then, you are a woman, and do not know how we men feel when we come in contact with temptation. Mind you, I am not defending myself. I am going to make no defence. When your son came to me and spoke as he did I saw that heart and soul he was the slave of my wife. He did not know it. He did not realise it at the moment, but I let him chide me where ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have kicked him out of the house. But I was patient. I asked him to come four-and-twenty hours later, when I would show him what I was going to do. At the end of that time I knew that my home would be no more than a name. And then I forgot all about my scheme of revenge. And when the time came and my home was no more, I stood within the bare walls and made my wife an offer. There was to be an end of all her shameful extravagance. I was going into a cottage, where we should live without a servant till my debts were paid. My wife refused to go, and in a fit of sullen indifference I turned away and left her in the empty house.... It was then that your son came along.... I can say no more. I leave the rest for you to imagine. And now, if you will permit me, I will seek some lodging for the night."Gently but firmly Mrs. Rent refused to listen to the suggestion. Till the morning, at any rate, she would not hear of Charlock seeking quarters elsewhere. It would be a dull and dreary evening, but that was inevitable in any case. It was a quiet and somewhat strained meal from which they all rose presently with feelings of undisguised thankfulness. It was barely dark, and the sea shimmered in the afterglow of the sunset. Charlock crossed over towards the French windows and stepped out upon the lawn, followed by Ethel."This is a lovely spot," he said. "Isn't there a wonderful walk here through the rose gardens leading to the sea? Would you mind showing it to me? I may never have another chance of seeing it. Won't you come?""We will all go," Mrs. Rent suggested. "Anything is better than sitting brooding in the house. Ethel, will you run upstairs and get a wrap for me?"They started off presently, Ethel and Charlock a little in front of the rest. For a time they were silent, till, at length, the perfect beauty of the scene fell like a charm upon Charlock and he began to talk. It was a new thing for him to have a companion in sympathy with himself. But the responsive look in Ethel's deep eyes seemed to draw him to her. It was not so much what he said as what he implied that led Ethel to believe that he was both a miserable and a misunderstood man. The church clock was striking the hour of ten before they turned and made their way again towards the house."I believe I have been talking for a good hour," Charlock said. "I never remember doing such a thing before in all my life. I hope you will not run away with the idea that I am a loquacious man."Westlake and Mrs. Rent drew up to the rest, and they all stood enjoying the fragrance of the night. Mrs. Rent turned at last with a suggestion that it was getting chilly, and that it would be more prudent to go indoors."A few minutes longer," Charlock pleaded. "To an artist such a scene is exceedingly attractive. One could forget all one's troubles in a place like this."Before Mrs. Rent could make any reply a servant came across the lawn and spoke to her mistress. She seemed to be excited, and her eyes danced with pleasure."What is it, Mary?" Mrs. Rent asked."Mr. Arnold has come back unexpectedly, madam," the maid replied. "He would like to see you in the library, please. I forgot to say that there is a lady with him.""Say I will come," Mrs. Rent said faintly.Now that the crisis had arrived, the unhappy mother felt like shirking it altogether. She had not forgotten what Charlock had said. She was prepared to make every allowance for her son. But, even then, she would have to do violence to her feelings. She only wanted to be just, to do that which was right and proper. And, after all, she only had John Charlock's word as to the way in which he had been treated. And she was bound to confess that he did not look in the least like a man capable of making a woman happy. Perhaps his wife was the injured saint she took herself to be, and her son might be acting from the highest and purest motives. Such things had happened over and over again, despite the fact that the world was cold and critical. But the matter had to be faced, and the sooner the better.In a dreamy sort of way Mrs. Rent saw her son's smiling face. She noticed the heightened colour on his cheeks. Then she saw the most beautiful woman her eyes had ever fallen upon. Oh, it was impossible to believe that this was a cold, scheming creature playing for her own hand. No one could look upon that face and think her anything but innocent. And Mrs. Rent thought she could vouch for her son.As she stood there she saw the smile on Kate Charlock's face soften wonderfully. The woman advanced towards her with an obvious intention shining in her eyes.She stepped back instinctively."No, no," she cried. "The time is not ripe for that. I cannot allow you to kiss me—yet."
CHAPTER XV
ILL TIDINGS
In its modest way, Alton Lee, which stands upon the South Devonshire coast, was quite a show place. There the Rents had held their sway for the best part of three centuries, since the founder of the family first came West and built the old house, which his successors had altered out of all recognition. The history of the family had been fairly uneventful. They had married with their neighbours, and more than one heiress had come along to swell their fortunes. For the most part they had been people of moderate ideas, clean-living, healthy-minded men and women, not endowed with too much intellect, and perfectly contented with their lot. At present the Rents were represented by Arnold himself and his mother, an elderly lady, who was exceedingly popular with all who knew her.
Ever since Arnold Rent had left school his mother had been more or less afraid of him. That she was passionately devoted to her only son goes without saying; but she herself had been brought up in the simple, narrow way. She had an almost morbid horror of anything that was in the least unconventional and a mighty regard for her neighbours.
And her boy was totally different in every respect. The knowledge that he had an inclination for work had filled her with tranquil happiness and a sense of security, which, however, was not destined to last. There being several livings in the family gift, there had been no reason why Arnold Rent should not settle down to the career of a country parson. But from the first he had other plans which in Mrs. Rent's opinion were almost revolutionary. The limited field did not appeal to a man of his views and restless energy, and with many misgivings his mother had seen him start an entirely different career of his own choosing in London. That he was squandering money on this did not matter. The past three or four generations of Rents had not spent anything like half their income, so there was money enough and to spare. There was no anxiety on that score.
From time to time Mrs. Rent had reports of her son's progress. She was convinced that knighthood was within his grasp if he could only control some of his advanced ideas and bow to the voice of authority. At any rate he was strong and good and in earnest. On the whole, it seemed to Mrs. Rent that Providence had been more than kind to her.
She was in the garden now busy among her roses. The rose gardens at Alton Lee were famous. Even in that well-favoured spot there was nothing like them. And the lady of the house fitted well in with the picture. She walked with a slight stoop; one long, slender hand was closed upon an ebony crutch-stick; her delicate features were half hidden by a large, shady hat. For the rest, her hair was grey and abundant, and her blue eyes beamed with a kindly expression. She was the embodiment of an elderly lady of the old school, which is fast becoming extinct. With all beneath her she had the widest sympathy. No tale of distress found her unmoved, but she had undemonstrative pride, for all that. There were people in the neighbourhood who said that Mrs. Rent was haughty and distant, but most of these were newcomers whose money had been derived from trade. As to the wealthy financiers who play so prominent a part in Society to-day, not one of them would have been permitted to cross the threshold of Alton Lee, though Mrs. Rent was always pleased to see the little curate's wife to dinner.
She cut the last of a basketful of large, dark, red-hearted roses and dropped into a garden seat with a sigh of placid satisfaction. It was a perfect afternoon, with just the suspicion of a breeze rustling the great oaks in the park. Across the middle distance a herd of deer moved slowly and gracefully. Away to the west the blue sea lay placid in the sunshine. From one of the side paths a girl came along, carrying a huge mass of sprays of maidenhair fern in her hand. She was not particularly tall or strikingly beautiful, but there was a rare attraction about Ethel Margrave's face that grew upon one the more her features were studied. But the eyes of deep blue were the chief attraction. No one ever failed to notice these liquid azure lakes which drew to her every man and woman of her acquaintance. She came gaily along and dropped into the seat by Mrs. Rent's side.
"My dear auntie, how busy you have been!" she exclaimed. "I thought I should have been in time to cut at least half those roses for you; but I suppose I stayed too long in the greenhouses admiring the orchids. I won't get the drawing-room flowers done before tea-time, at this rate."
Mrs. Rent smiled indulgently at the speaker. Next to her son, there was nobody in the world whom she loved as deeply and sincerely as her niece, Ethel Hargrave. If she had one wish left ungratified, it was that Arnold and Ethel might some day be master and mistress of the old house. The dream had gradually deepened till it had become almost a passion, but it looked now as if the elderly lady was going to be disappointed. Perhaps the young people had been too much together to fall in love with one another. At any rate, Arnold Rent had always looked upon Ethel as a sister. And there was something in Mrs. Rent's disappointment that had a touch of pain in it. Those kindly blue eyes could look keenly enough at human nature sometimes, and Mrs. Rent had more than a suspicion that Ethel cared deeply for her son. There were moments when this knowledge filled her with anxiety.
"Let us sit here and talk a little longer," she said. "There will be plenty of time for your drawing-room flowers. Did I tell you that I had a letter from your father this morning? He hopes that he will be able to get away from Australia for a long holiday at the beginning of next year. What a long time it is since you saw him! And what a pity it is that you photograph so badly! I have been thinking it over lately and I am going to give my brother a surprise. I have been in communication with one of the most famous artists of the day, and he is coming here to paint your portrait."
"What a distinguished honour!" the girl laughed. "My dear, you are making quite a Society woman of me. Will the picture be exhibited in next year's Academy and be reproduced in the ladies' papers? Really, I ought to be quite angry with you for such extravagance."
"Oh, I am glad to find you don't mind," Mrs. Rent replied. "Besides, I want a proper picture of you myself. We were only talking about it the last time Arnold was here. By the way, have you heard from him lately?"
The girl flushed at the mention of Rent's name.
"Oh, dear, no," she said. "Arnold is much too busy to trouble about a simple country girl like myself. The last time I heard from him his letter was one of tirade and abuse of the doings of Society. I understood he was moving in it himself, so that he would be able to speak from personal knowledge. Do you know, my dear aunt, I wish Arnold wouldn't be so dreadfully serious. One feels a poor creature by comparison. I should like to see him do something foolish. You know what I mean."
"Oh, I think I do," Mrs. Rent smiled. "It would be nice if he made a mistake or two and came down here for us to sympathise with him. But one never feels sure of Arnold. I expect to hear every day that he has gone over to the Rationalists, or taken monastic vows, or some equally dreadful thing. But you may be sure that Arnold would never do anything to make one blush for him."
The mother spoke with a serene pride that brought an answering smile to Ethel's face. Attached as she was to Arnold Rent, she would have preferred him to be a little more human. Like most girls who live a good deal alone, she had her imaginative moods, and was fond of picturing Arnold as wounded in a conflict and coming home for her support and sympathy. She dismissed the mental picture now with a sigh of impatience. There was not the least likelihood of Arnold stepping from the straight path. He would go to high honours in the world. He would marry some noble woman of great intellectual attainments to help him in his work.
"I think we spoil him," she said. "However, it is no use talking about it. But, surely, my eyes don't deceive me. That must be Mr. Westlake coming down the drive. What brings him here? Something dreadful must have happened to induce him to leave his beloved London."
Mrs. Rent rose with a sudden feeling of approaching trouble. It was rare, indeed, for the old family solicitor to come to Devonshire, especially without warning. The elderly man approached the garden-seat and raised his hat. Nothing could be gathered from his austere features except a trace of anxiety on his brow. He murmured something in reply to Mrs. Rent's question, then glanced significantly at Ethel.
"Very well," the girl said. "I see you have come on affairs of state, so I'll run away and finish my flowers. Don't forget that it is very nearly tea-time."
CHAPTER XVI
THE HONOUR OF THE FAMILY
Arnold Rent's mother waited for the lawyer to speak. She scented trouble.
"And now, my dear old friend, what is it?" Mrs. Rent said quietly. "I see you are in great anxiety about something. I suppose it has to do with money. But, in any case, I am sure you are in no way to blame."
"It has nothing to do with money at all," Mr. Westlake replied. "From that point of view, things were never better. Before I go any further, have you had any news of your son lately? Have you heard this morning? I thought, perhaps, possibly——"
"Arnold!" Mrs. Rent exclaimed. "Something has happened to him! You are keeping me in suspense."
"Indeed, I am not," Westlake protested. "So far as I know, there is nothing wrong with your son, who was perfectly well last night. But it is to consult you about Arnold that I have hurried here to-day. I learnt something yesterday and immediately went out to Southampton last night, where my worst suspicions were confirmed. It struck me as strange that a young man in his position should be telegraphing for money, and I heard one or two rumours in the early part of the week. You must not be too hard upon the boy, because one never knows what temptations unscrupulous women put in the way of impressionable men. And, if I may be allowed to say it, in worldly matters Arnold is a little lax."
All the colour left Mrs. Rent's cheeks. She sat for a moment with her hand pressed to her heart. Then her dignity and courage came back to her. Her voice was tranquil as she spoke.
"Perhaps you had better begin at the beginning, my dear friend," she said. "A mother is always anxious about her child. She has gloomy moments when she fears the worst. I won't say that Arnold has never given me any anxiety, because that would not be true, but I never dreamt he would so far forget himself as to tarnish his good name and honour. Do you mean to say that he allowed himself to get entangled?"
"That would be hardly fair," Westlake said, with lawyer-like caution. "I am told that the lady is exceedingly beautiful and that she has been very unhappy in her married life. She has been described to me as a sweet saint, a kind of Madonna—just the sort of creature who would be likely to appeal to a chivalrous, romantic man like your son. I believe that the husband turned his wife out of the house, or that he sold the house over her head, which comes to much the same thing. Unfortunately, Arnold appeared on the scene at that very moment, and that is how the trouble began. At any rate, the mischief is done and nothing we can say can alter it. The worst feature is that Arnold's career is seriously checked. He will have to delay matters. He will have to abandon his experiments till this fancy is forgotten. No one would listen to a man who had been god in the car to another man's wife. Of course, this sounds very cruel, but, then, you are always so rational and reasonable that I can speak to you the more freely. Believe me, I would have given half I possess if I could have saved the situation before it was too late."
"I know it," Mrs. Rent said quietly. "My dear Richard Westlake, this is a bitter blow to me. As yet I can hardly realise it. He must have been mad. He must have been carried away by impulsive good-heartedness. But we are wasting time. I must see Arnold. I suppose I shall even have to see the woman. I shall have to sit down in the same room with her."
"That is the point I was coming to," Westlake said, almost eagerly. "I want to prevent those misguided people from coming here. That must be avoided at any cost."
"Here!" Mrs. Rent murmured. "Do you mean to say that that woman would have the audacity to come to Alton Lee?"
"I think you will find that that will be the programme," Westlake said shrewdly. "Unless I am mistaken, Mrs. Charlock will pose as a martyr, driven to despair by the brutality of a cruel husband. If she gets a footing here the whitewashing process will be half complete. It will be held that she has the support and sympathy of so great a lady as Mrs. Rent. And even if the other man takes proceedings, as he is sure to do, half the people who read the case will come to the conclusion that Mrs. Charlock is an injured woman. She may be a saint, of course. But that is not a synonym for a fool."
Mrs. Rent looked despairingly across the park. She was beginning to appreciate the full force of the disaster. Her pride was in arms. The strong side of her character began to show uppermost, and there was a depth and force in her moral nature that few people dreamt of. Her duty was plain. If it wounded her to the heart, she must do that which was right and proper.
"I begin to see my way," she said quietly. "I will go and see my unhappy boy and this woman. I will go up with you to-day. It may be that there are extenuating circumstances. Indeed, I shall only be too glad to be able to take a lenient view of this disgraceful affair. But if you will give me Arnold's address I will telegraph to him that on no account is he to come here. It would be an outrage."
"To tell the truth," Westlake confessed, "I have already taken the liberty of sending a telegram in your name. I did it directly I got the news. You see, there was no time to be lost, and they might already be on their way."
"Quite right," Mrs. Rent murmured. "By the way, what did you say was the name of this woman? It sounded familiar."
"Charlock," Westlake explained. "I believe her husband is an artist, or something of that kind."
"I wonder if he is any relation totheCharlock?" Mrs. Rent mused. "I have been in correspondence with him. But I suppose that is out of the question, especially as there are two or three Charlocks who are artists."
Westlake glanced at the speaker. She was taking the blow with far greater resignation and courage than he had expected. The colour had crept back into her cheeks. Her face was strong and resolute. Come what might, she would do the right and proper thing; she would vindicate the honour of the family. She rose now and suggested that it was time for tea.
"It seems strange to mention the meal," she said, "but I suppose the world will go on the same, even though this black disgrace has fallen on the family. But fancy having to tell Ethel! My heart sinks at the mere thought of it. And the servants, too, every one of whom was born on the estate. But the thing will have to be done, bitterly as one resents it. Everybody must know. There shall be no attempt at deceit or prevarication. As soon as we have had tea you had better decide to take a stroll in the garden and smoke a cigar. I shall not be able to rest till Ethel knows the story. Now give me your arm."
In silence they passed between the rose-bushes, across the velvet lawns to the drawing-room. The light was subdued, and Mrs. Rent was grateful for it. She had no desire to be under the scrutiny of Ethel's keen eyes. The girl came forward from behind a bank of roses and fern. Something suggested suppressed excitement in her manner.
"Well, are all the secrets told?" she asked gaily. "Or has Mr. Westlake got a surprise in store for us? But, whether he has or not, I have a surprise for you. You know you were talking just now of a famous artist who was to paint my portrait. What would you say if I told you that Mr. John Charlock is in the library at the present moment?"
Something like a groan escaped Westlake's lips.
"The husband," he murmured. "The husband, for a million. Now, what on earth is the fellow doing here?"
There was a startled expression on Mrs. Rent's face.
"This had not occurred to me," she murmured. "Strange that I had failed to notice it. Fancy a thing like this happening in so quiet and respectable a house as Alton Lee! It reminds one of those dreadful plays where extraordinary events take place in the most unexpected quarters. Who could have foreseen the elements of such a drama four-and-twenty hours ago? I should have said this would be the last house in the world to entertain anything like this. But perhaps the misfortune will prove to be a blessing in disguise. Don't you think we might settle matters, now that Mr. Charlock is here, in such a way that there shall be no scandal? I cannot possibly believe that my son is——"
"An ordinary human being," Westlake said cynically. "My dear madam, when a young man comes in contact with a beautiful woman who is cold-blooded and playing entirely for her own hand, nobody knows what will take place. Believe me, this is not the time for weakness or compromise. It may be that your son is acting from the highest possible motives. It may be that his soul is full of chivalry and all that kind of thing. Nevertheless, I should like to hear what you have to suggest."
Mrs. Rent pondered the matter for a moment.
"Cannot you think of anything?" she asked timidly. "Oh, I don't know how to act. I can't think what to do for the best. And yet it seems as if this were a direct intervention of Providence. On the other hand, you may say that it would be far better if Mr. Charlock left the house without delay."
CHAPTER XVII
"LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG"
Ethel Hargrave turned with a startled expression on her face.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "Is there anything wrong, aunt? You both look as though something dreadful had happened."
"Never mind that for a moment," Westlake interrupted. "It so happens that I am particularly interested in this Mr. Charlock. Tell me, what is the gentleman like?"
"I like him," Ethel went on, "though he does remind one strongly of a bulldog. He has a tenacious, fighting face. But I always was fond of bulldogs. They are such gentle, faithful creatures when you come to understand them."
"You have been talking to him," Mrs. Rent murmured.
"Oh, dear, yes. We had quite a long conversation. Our introduction was as unconventional as the most bohemian could have wished. Mr. Charlock came up the drive carrying a poor little terrier in his arms. I fancy the dog had been run over, for it was bleeding from a wound in the side, and making a horrid mess of Mr. Charlock's grey flannel suit, which fact I ventured to point out to him. He didn't even take the trouble to reply. He was too busy with the dog. I suppose this incident impressed me favourably. Only a really kind-hearted man would have taken all that trouble about a toy-terrier."
Mrs. Rent and Westlake did not appear to be listening. The solicitor turned to his hostess and elevated his eyebrows.
"This is certain to be the same man," he said. "The circumstance is so extraordinary that it could not be anybody else. I think there is one thing we can count upon—he has not come to make any disturbance. I should not be surprised to find him utterly ignorant of any relations between that lady and your son. It is unfortunate that he should be here at this moment, but it can't be helped. Don't you think it would be as well if I saw him and explained matters?"
"Perhaps you had better," Mrs. Rent murmured. "Naturally, I have a certain amount of sympathy for Mr. Charlock, and I agree with you that he has only come here to talk over Ethel's portrait. If you will be so good as to see him——"
"What is all this mystery?" Ethel demanded. "Why am I being kept in the dark? Not but what I shall know sooner or later, because dear Aunt Helen is one of the most transparent women in the world. It would be impossible for her to keep a secret for more than a day."
Westlake turned to Mrs. Rent.
"You had better tell her," he said. "Meanwhile, I'll go and see what I can do with the artist."
Westlake's tone was so grave that the smile faded from Ethel's cheeks. She placed an arm around her aunt's neck and kissed the white cheek tenderly.
"I know you are in some trouble," she murmured. "Tell me what it is. You have lost all your money?"
"Not a penny," Mrs. Rent replied. "A money loss would be nothing to the trouble I am suffering now. It is difficult to tell you the truth, but it will have to be told. You know how proud I have always been of Arnold. You know how I have boasted that the boy could do nothing wrong. Well, he has disgraced us. There is no other word for it. He has forgotten his duty to God and to himself. He has deliberately broken one of the Commandments."
Ethel's face grew as pale and colourless as that of her companion.
"Do not be afraid to speak," she murmured. "Try to forget that I am not a child. What has Arnold done?"
"There was a woman," Mrs. Rent said incoherently. "She was a married woman, which makes matters worse. And now she has left her husband ... with Arnold. I could not say more if I sat here all night. Of course, one could find excuses for the boy. One could argue that he has acted in this mad fashion from chivalrous motives. But the sorry truth remains that these two have gone off together, and that scandal is bound to follow. Of all the paths of dishonour that my boy might have trodden, I cannot think of one more discreditable than this. Don't press me to say more. Don't ask me for details, for I have none to give you. Mr. Westlake came here at once to break the trouble to me, and I have no doubt that I shall have a long letter from Arnold in the morning."
"What are you going to do?" Ethel asked. She could think of nothing else to say. "You will see him, of course."
"I don't know. I am not sure. I have been a fond and loving mother to Arnold, and I have striven to do my duty by him, but, also, I owe a duty to society. And everything that I possess is at my discretion. If I like to say the word, Arnold will rise to-morrow without a penny. I have not said much, because I hardly realise the magnitude of this disaster. Shame and disgrace like this must not be allowed to go unpunished. I don't wish to be too hard upon anybody, but I cannot believe that that woman would have thrown in her lot with my son unless she had known he had great expectations."
"I see what you mean," Ethel said. "You are going to take a firm stand. But why not wait? Why assume that there is anything really wrong? It is not just to Arnold. You do not mean to disown him?"
"Oh, no, no," Mrs. Rent cried. "I could not do that. That might be the means of sending a poor, unhappy creature headlong to her ruin. We may find Mr. Charlock——"
"Mr. Charlock!" Ethel exclaimed. "Do you mean to say——"
"I am afraid so," Mrs. Rent went on. "I am afraid that the cruel irony of fate has brought the poor gentleman into this house at the most inopportune time. It may be mere coincidence, but that is almost too much to hope for. What was I saying? Oh, yes. You see, when the law gives Mr. Charlock his freedom, it will be a point of honour on Arnold's part to marry this woman. Common humanity will prevent me from interfering. Common decency would compel Arnold to take that step. And do you suppose that that wicked creature would care much, so long as she had money to spend? She would make Arnold take her on the continent. She would drag him down to her own level. The best years of his life would be wasted. But if I say that they must go their own way, without assistance from me, Arnold may pull himself together and live down his disgrace. Don't you see, I wish to find out what this woman is made of? Perhaps Mr. Charlock may be a wretch, and have driven his wife in sheer desperation to take this step."
"I don't believe it," Ethel said firmly. "I don't believe that a man who would take so much trouble over a stray dog could be guilty of unkindness. There is something about his face that I like. But I interrupt you."
"What was I saying? Oh, I want to test the woman. I want to see if she will remain true to the man whose life she has spoilt in the face of adversity. If so, then in the future she has little to fear from me. Meanwhile, I have made up my mind. I will stop Arnold's allowance. He will not receive another penny from me. He is strong and brave and clever. He is equipped for the earning of his own living. All this I will tell him when we meet to-morrow. It will be something for him to find out that I have a side to my character which he has not dreamt of. You may not think that I am right. You may say that I am hard and cruel——"
"You could never be that," Ethel murmured. "I am very fond of Arnold, and this has been a terrible blow to me, not the least so because it has wounded my pride. But I don't want to talk about myself. I am certain you are right, and that, in the circumstances, you could not do anything else. But you will let me go with you to-morrow. I know that Mr. Westlake will accompany you, but a man is so useless in times like these. Besides, I have a desire to see the woman who has come in and wrecked our paradise. I want to judge her for myself."
"That is out of the question," Mrs. Rent decided. "But here is Mr. Westlake."
Westlake came slowly into the room. He could see that Mrs. Rent had told Ethel everything, and that, therefore, he could speak freely.
"It is just as I thought," he said. "This is the husband of the woman who has infatuated your boy. As you may imagine, Mr. Charlock feels the situation acutely. Of course, it occurred to him that you were the mother of Arnold Rent, but he himself is here on business. He says that you invited him to come at the first favourable opportunity, offering your hospitality, which a day or two ago he thankfully accepted. In his letter he fixed to-day, and said he should be here at the time mentioned, unless he heard from you to the contrary. Taking your silence for consent, he came. And, mind you, till I told him a few minutes ago, he had not the faintest idea of this madness between Arnold and his wife. I should like to save you as much pain as possible, but you must see him."
CHAPTER XVIII
CUPBOARD LOVE
Charlock's wife was easier in her mind. When the start was made she could see her way clearly. The long journey was coming to an end at length and the period of inaction was nearly over. Kate Charlock sat in her seat, her eyes half-closed, smiling serenely. Arnold Rent thought he had never seen her smile like that before. It seemed to him that he was one of the most fortunate of men. Hitherto, it had never occurred to him to ask himself a question. He had not paused to debate whether this woman loved him or not. Perhaps he was afraid to face his own vanity. He had made the suggestion on the spur of the moment, carried away by a spontaneous outburst of love and passion, and Kate Charlock had responded without a struggle.
Yet he could not doubt her. It was impossible to doubt her. No woman with a face and smile like that could have done other than follow the dictates of her heart. She had placed herself in his hands, and so long as he had health and strength she should never repent it. No woman had ever been loved before as he loved Kate Charlock.
And she, on the other hand, sat there with beautiful lines of resignation on her face, looking the embodiment of all that was good, and pure, and holy. She seemed to be raised above the level of the common earth. And yet she, too, was thinking as she surveyed Rent under the long fringe of her eyelashes.
He was a nice-looking fellow, she told herself. She regarded him with a certain amount of good-natured contempt. No doubt he would make a man in time, but he would have many lessons to learn first. He would be easy to manage, too, despite his square chin and the resolute lines of his mouth. He would not be surly and self-contained, like John Charlock. On the whole, Kate saw a pleasant prospect before her after the scandal was forgotten and things resumed their normal footing. She knew exactly what the process would be. For a year or so they would be studiously avoided by even the most frivolous of her friends. Then people would languidly inquire whether or not there had been some scandal in the past, and after that others, bolder than the rest, would be calling on Mrs. Arnold Rent. They would come fast enough, provided there were good dinners and entertainments worth sharing, and Arnold Rent would have to provide all those things. It was all very well to talk largely of living in a quiet, frugal way and giving nine-tenths of his income to the poor, but Kate Charlock would see to all that. It was the man's obvious duty to make things smooth for her and pave the way into the pale of Society again. It didn't matter much about the man, for in these matters the man never suffers. It is always the woman who pays.
The prospect was alluring, and accounted for the heavenly smile which Arnold Rent was studying so rapturously. And yet behind it all was a fear that Mrs. Rent might step down from her high place and shatter the fond illusion. Arnold Rent might say that his mother idolised him. It was easy to prophesy that she would come forward and welcome the fugitive with open arms. The elderly lady might be all that her son claimed for her, but she was proud and prejudiced, and had all the conventions of her class. What if she were to put her foot down firmly? What if she refused to see them? The telegram she had sent to her son did not indicate a conciliatory spirit. Still, if once the threshold were crossed, it would not be easy to dislodge the culprits, and Arnold Rent as yet had not seen anything but the mere fringe of the artifices which his companion had at her fingertips. She turned to him presently, a little tired of her gloomy thoughts.
"What is your house like, Arnold?" she asked.
Arnold Rent's face lighted up with pleasure.
"Oh, Alton Lee is a beautiful place," he said. "I don't know what kind of architecture you call it, for it has been built from time to time, as occasion required. Now it is one mass of ivy and creeping plants. To my mind, it is the most beautiful place in Devonshire. It is so restful and peaceful, and I don't believe there are any roses like ours in the world. I suppose, too, there is not a finer collection of antique furniture in the South of England. I have known my grandfather entertain a hundred visitors without the slightest inconvenience."
"How charming," Kate Charlock murmured. "But that kind of thing is very extravagant. I suppose that is why so many of our great families have become so poor."
The speaker uttered the words thoughtfully, as she gazed dreamily out of the carriage window. Rent did not notice what lay behind the simple speech.
"Oh, we are by no means poor," he said. "I don't suppose the Rents have been more mercenary than other people, but it so happens that most of them married money. Our tastes have been fairly simple, too, and we have been very lucky in our advisers. The last time I saw our solicitor, Mr. Westlake, he told me that I should some day have the control of an estate worth nearly a million."
Kate Charlock smiled and murmured something to the effect that money was not everything. Nevertheless, the statement filled her with the keenest pleasure. In her mind's eye, she could see the stately house rising above the sea. Already she was beginning to rearrange the various rooms with their priceless furniture. She saw herself a popular hostess, eagerly sought after and invited everywhere. Arnold Rent was placing his future in her hands now, but it was only like casting his bread on the waters, and the thing would be worth a struggle. It would be glorious to live the scandal down and force the people who regarded her coldly at first to come cringing for an invitation to Alton Lee. For the moment Kate Charlock thought she was genuinely in love with the man opposite. Truly, fortune was favouring her. She was getting her recompense for the five dreary years which she had endured under the roof of John Charlock.
She was quite convinced of the fact, too, that the blame was wholly Charlock's. Itmustbe so, since all her friends had said so. She looked back now to the past five years with complacent pride and soothing self-satisfaction. But all that was going to be altered. Before two years had passed there would be no more charming or popular hostess in England than Mrs. Arnold Rent of Alton Lee. If only Arnold's mother——
Ah, there was the trouble. With a subtle instinct all her own, Kate Charlock made no attempt to blind the issue. It was from this quarter the trouble was coming. She felt certain of it. She closed her eyes and feigned sleep. She was getting a trifle tired of the sound of Arnold Rent's voice. She wished he were a little less boyish, a little less certain of his ground. Then, for a while, she sank into oblivion, sitting up with a start when the train stopped at a small station.
"We are here," Rent explained. "It is only a short way to the house, and I will take you a near cut through the grounds. Let us slip away before the station-master comes fussing along."
It was not dark yet. The air was full of the smell of flowers. The peaceful silence was restful and soothing. But Kate Charlock was not thinking about that. Her mind was possessed with the reflection that all this was her companion's property, and that very soon she would be mistress. She had no keen eye for the beauties of the country, but even she was moved to admiration as the path sloped upwards and the great sylvan landscape began to unfold itself. She saw the wide stretch of the park, where the deer were moving like phantoms in the dusk. She noted the outline of the grand old house beyond. For the moment she was touched and thrilled. It was not the first time she found herself in one of the stately English homes. She had always envied the lot of folk who were blessed in this way, and soon she would actually have one of her own.
"Is it not perfect?" Rent said, with a thrill in his voice. "Are you surprised that I should love the place as I do? The time will come when you will be just as fond of Alton Lee as I am myself. Isn't it a paradise?"
"It is, indeed," Kate Charlock said rapturously. "But do not let us think so much of our own happiness when there are others to consider. I am more concerned for your poor mother than anyone else. Do you know, I should be almost thankful if you made up your mind to turn back, even at this moment. Oh, Arnold, do you think that your mother will allow me to stay?"
Arnold Rent smiled convincingly.
"I have no doubt about it," he said. "Of course, I don't disguise the fact that this will be a terrible shock to my poor mother, but, you will see, she will make the best of it, especially when she comes to hear your story. I am going to leave you here till I can make you my wife. That is one of the ways by which we can stifle the breath of scandal. And when you become a member of this household——"
Kate Charlock quickened her footsteps. Something like a chill passed over her for a moment.
"Come along and let us get it over," she said. "The suspense is more than I can bear. And if your mother fails me in this dreadful crisis, why——"
CHAPTER XIX
UNBIDDEN GUESTS
Meanwhile, Mrs. Rent was with Charlock in the library. She saw before her a tall, thick-set man, whose hard features and smileless eyes impressed her with a fancy that he was the central figure in some dark tragedy. Yet there was that vague something about John Charlock that appealed to the woman's sympathies, for he, too, had suffered like herself. The same woman who had ruined Arnold Rent had brought shame and disgrace to John Charlock. He stood bowing gravely till Mrs. Rent came forward and timidly held out her hand. Then, at length, he spoke.
"This is a cruel trick that Fate has played us," he said. "Believe me, if I had known what had happened I should not be here this evening. I suppose Mr. Westlake has explained to you how the misunderstanding came about. And I think I know now why you did not get my letter. I had placed it with others on the hall table two days before. It was the day I lost my home. You see, I have been in great money difficulties, due principally to the extravagance of the woman who is my wife. One of my creditors stripped my house of everything, and left me nothing but the bare walls. I am not complaining. I had fair warning, and the money was honestly due to the man. Doubtless, in the confusion of the moment, my letters were lost sight of. But perhaps you will think that I ought not to stay any longer. I daresay I can find some accommodation in the village till the morning."
"Indeed, you cannot," Mrs. Rent exclaimed, all her hospitable instincts on fire. "There is no house of entertainment within some miles of this and the few cottages around are impossible. I appreciate the delicacy of your feelings, but you will have to remain till the morning. And the thing is no fault of yours."
"My wife's friends will tell you otherwise," Charlock said, with a bitter smile. "They will tell you that she is a sweet, saintly creature who put up with my cruel indifference till human nature could bear the strain no longer. Indeed, your son was good enough to tell me so. As a friend of my wife's, he ventured to expostulate with me, a comparative stranger, on the way I treated her."
All the blood came flaming to Mrs. Rent's face.
"He didn't," she said hoarsely. "He never went so far as that. It is incredible. What did you say?"
"I said nothing. I never say anything. The heart knoweth its own bitterness. There is no man on earth who has learnt the wisdom of that saying more than myself. And why should I try to put the world right? In the eyes of most people I am a boor and a brute. I had no business to tie a beautiful woman to a personality like mine. Why should I waste my time in proving to the world that the world is wrong? Why should I proclaim from the housetops that I am a broken and disappointed man, with nothing but my work to fall back upon?"
Charlock appeared to have forgotten himself. The words burst in a stream from his lips as he paced up and down the room. Never before had he shown his heart like this to a stranger. Yet there was something like sorrowful sympathy in the eyes of his hostess that seemed to draw confidences from him.
"I think I understand," Mrs. Rent said gently. "Is your wife, then, so wonderfully prepossessing?"
"I think she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Charlock said, in the same tense tones. "She is outwardly the embodiment of womanly innocence and purity, and I gave her all the heart that a lonely and self-contained man possesses. How she has repaid me I leave you to find out for yourself. And yet, if she were to come back to me now and place her hands upon my shoulders and ask me to forgive her, I should be as wax in her hands. Wait till you see the woman called Kate Charlock before you judge your son too harshly. But, then, you are a woman, and do not know how we men feel when we come in contact with temptation. Mind you, I am not defending myself. I am going to make no defence. When your son came to me and spoke as he did I saw that heart and soul he was the slave of my wife. He did not know it. He did not realise it at the moment, but I let him chide me where ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have kicked him out of the house. But I was patient. I asked him to come four-and-twenty hours later, when I would show him what I was going to do. At the end of that time I knew that my home would be no more than a name. And then I forgot all about my scheme of revenge. And when the time came and my home was no more, I stood within the bare walls and made my wife an offer. There was to be an end of all her shameful extravagance. I was going into a cottage, where we should live without a servant till my debts were paid. My wife refused to go, and in a fit of sullen indifference I turned away and left her in the empty house.... It was then that your son came along.... I can say no more. I leave the rest for you to imagine. And now, if you will permit me, I will seek some lodging for the night."
Gently but firmly Mrs. Rent refused to listen to the suggestion. Till the morning, at any rate, she would not hear of Charlock seeking quarters elsewhere. It would be a dull and dreary evening, but that was inevitable in any case. It was a quiet and somewhat strained meal from which they all rose presently with feelings of undisguised thankfulness. It was barely dark, and the sea shimmered in the afterglow of the sunset. Charlock crossed over towards the French windows and stepped out upon the lawn, followed by Ethel.
"This is a lovely spot," he said. "Isn't there a wonderful walk here through the rose gardens leading to the sea? Would you mind showing it to me? I may never have another chance of seeing it. Won't you come?"
"We will all go," Mrs. Rent suggested. "Anything is better than sitting brooding in the house. Ethel, will you run upstairs and get a wrap for me?"
They started off presently, Ethel and Charlock a little in front of the rest. For a time they were silent, till, at length, the perfect beauty of the scene fell like a charm upon Charlock and he began to talk. It was a new thing for him to have a companion in sympathy with himself. But the responsive look in Ethel's deep eyes seemed to draw him to her. It was not so much what he said as what he implied that led Ethel to believe that he was both a miserable and a misunderstood man. The church clock was striking the hour of ten before they turned and made their way again towards the house.
"I believe I have been talking for a good hour," Charlock said. "I never remember doing such a thing before in all my life. I hope you will not run away with the idea that I am a loquacious man."
Westlake and Mrs. Rent drew up to the rest, and they all stood enjoying the fragrance of the night. Mrs. Rent turned at last with a suggestion that it was getting chilly, and that it would be more prudent to go indoors.
"A few minutes longer," Charlock pleaded. "To an artist such a scene is exceedingly attractive. One could forget all one's troubles in a place like this."
Before Mrs. Rent could make any reply a servant came across the lawn and spoke to her mistress. She seemed to be excited, and her eyes danced with pleasure.
"What is it, Mary?" Mrs. Rent asked.
"Mr. Arnold has come back unexpectedly, madam," the maid replied. "He would like to see you in the library, please. I forgot to say that there is a lady with him."
"Say I will come," Mrs. Rent said faintly.
Now that the crisis had arrived, the unhappy mother felt like shirking it altogether. She had not forgotten what Charlock had said. She was prepared to make every allowance for her son. But, even then, she would have to do violence to her feelings. She only wanted to be just, to do that which was right and proper. And, after all, she only had John Charlock's word as to the way in which he had been treated. And she was bound to confess that he did not look in the least like a man capable of making a woman happy. Perhaps his wife was the injured saint she took herself to be, and her son might be acting from the highest and purest motives. Such things had happened over and over again, despite the fact that the world was cold and critical. But the matter had to be faced, and the sooner the better.
In a dreamy sort of way Mrs. Rent saw her son's smiling face. She noticed the heightened colour on his cheeks. Then she saw the most beautiful woman her eyes had ever fallen upon. Oh, it was impossible to believe that this was a cold, scheming creature playing for her own hand. No one could look upon that face and think her anything but innocent. And Mrs. Rent thought she could vouch for her son.
As she stood there she saw the smile on Kate Charlock's face soften wonderfully. The woman advanced towards her with an obvious intention shining in her eyes.
She stepped back instinctively.
"No, no," she cried. "The time is not ripe for that. I cannot allow you to kiss me—yet."