CHAPTER VII.MICHAEL MEREDITH.
T
hreedays had now passed since Tor’s arrival at his uncle’s house, and a good deal of business and pleasure had been compressed into that brief period.
The master of Ladywell was winning golden opinions from all around him. Mr. Belassis had found him pleasant and easy to deal with in a business capacity, and there had been no awkward questions asked during the examination of the papers and accounts relating to the Ladywell property. True, his nephew declined the generous offer he made of relieving him of all the business and trouble in the management of the estate, and elected to keep all in his own inexperienced hands; but then, as Mr. Belassis said to his wife, ‘There wasnothing in that; no implied distrust. Most men would prefer to manage their own property, though it’s a thousand pities he does not go abroad again and leave everything to me.’
‘If he went abroad a hundred times,’ Mrs. Belassis answered, ‘he would never leave anything to you.’
‘What makes you say that, my dear?’ asked Mr. Belassis, who had a high opinion of his wife’s shrewdness.
‘I say it because I know it is true. He has never forgiven you for banishing him to Germany, and for refusing his absurd request to become a musician or an artist, or something ridiculous and disreputable. I found all that out before he had been an hour in the house; and, mark my word for it, he will make things disagreeable for us if he can.’
Mr. Belassis looked uneasy.
‘You don’t suppose he suspects anything?’
‘I dare say he suspects any number of things; but at present it is impossible that he shouldknowa single one. It is your business to make sure that he never does know.’
Mr. Belassis mopped his face in his handkerchief.
‘If Maud will consent to marry Lewis, things are pretty safe to go smoothly, and no questions will be asked. But if she refuses, and matters come to be looked into——’ He paused, and again had recourse to his handkerchief. His red face had grown a shade paler. His wife looked at him rather contemptuously.
‘I always told you you were a fool to speculate with that money; and if you are clumsy now, you will be a greater fool still. If Maud declines Lewis, you must have five thousand ready to hand over—now don’t look like that; you know it will be the only way. Only——’ and here came a meaning pause—‘we must take care amongst us that she does not refuse Lewis.’
‘I don’t know what more we can do than we have done,’ answered the husband. ‘I never do let grass grow under my feet. The very first night he came, I tried to enlist Philip’s sympathy on our side, and in his sister’s cause; but he has not given me any answer yet.’
‘I wish you would speak to me before you do these things,’ said Mrs. Belassis coldly.‘You always make blunders when you act alone.’
‘What blunder can I have made in that?’ he asked blankly.
‘You should never have appealed to Philip at all. He is your enemy, whether you know it or not. You may trust him to oppose any scheme of yours.’
Mrs. Belassis, it will be seen, had not fallen in any way under the fascinations of the supposed Phil; and so certain was she in her own mind of his enmity to his uncle and herself, that she looked with cold and amused contempt upon her daughters’ very evident desires to entrap him into a flirtation.
Maud and her two cousins were having a halcyon time under Tor’s quiet generalship, which always carried the day. Whatever plan he proposed, he invariably contrived to bring to pass, and he seemed bent on giving pleasure to everyone about him. A wonderful box had arrived from London the previous evening, which contained all manner of articles and fabrics most delightful to the female mind; and although Maud had received the lion’s share, Matilda and Bertha were sogenerously remembered that there was no room for jealousy in their minds. In fact, just at present, they were more inclined to be jealous of one another, and to make much of Maud. Phil’s affection for his sister was evident, and policy certainly urged them both to make a friend of her.
Maud, however, was unconscious of any of the schemes and plots fermenting round her. She was so happy in her brother’s return that all other feelings sank into insignificance. Even the talk she had had with Lewis a few days ago, had not made the impression upon her that it would have done some time since, and she had put the subject on one side for the moment as a matter of minor importance.
‘Phil,’ she said one evening, as they strolled about the garden in the softened light, ‘I really think I must take you to see Mr. Meredith to-night. I promised I would soon, and you have been here four whole days. Let us go now.’
‘Is it not rather late to pay a call?’
‘Oh, times and seasons are all the same to him, poor man! He is blind, you know.’
‘Yes, I remember he was mentioned morethan once in that last batch of letters I had. But I don’t think you ever named him before in your letters, Maud, and I have not an idea who he is.’
‘He is a sculptor—at least he was before he went blind; and he was a great friend of papa’s once. He has lived a good deal abroad, and only came here when he lost his sight. He has been here about four years now, I think; but it is only lately that I have got to know them well. He is a widower, and has one daughter, who is a great friend of mine. She is twenty-five, and her name is Roma; she is so beautiful, and she is a sculptor too, andsoclever. She and her father are wrapped up in one another. Roma has never been quite the same, they say, since he lost his sight. It is a dreadful grief to her, I know.’
‘How did he lose it?’ asked Tor.
They were walking along a smooth green lane now, which was a short cut to a picturesque house, nestling in a wooded hollow, which Maud pointed out as the home of the blind man and his daughter.
‘I do not know—I think no one knows butRoma and he. They never speak of it to anyone. It happened when they were in Italy—before he came to England to live. I think she feels it almost more than he does; and since then they have quite settled down, and she has been working with her whole soul to complete the works he began, and to earn fame for his sake. She is so clever and so beautiful, Phil, I am sure you will admire her.’
They had reached the house by this time, and its picturesque beauty did not decrease upon a near approach. It was a charming house without and within, and the exquisite harmony and grace which everywhere prevailed, betokened the artist’s eye and the cultivated taste of theconnoisseur.
‘Let us go straight in,’ said Maud, entering the hall unhesitatingly. ‘Mr. Meredith will be in this room. He is always pleased to see me. Come in, Phil. He wants to make your acquaintance, I know.’
Maud opened the door of a small room, hung with rare paintings, and full of beautiful objects of art, and led her brother in.
An old man, with a magnificent head andflowing white hair, was reclining in an easy-chair under the open window, from whence the light streamed with picturesque intensity upon him. His dress was a black velvet gown lined with crimson, which attire gave to him a marked resemblance to the conventional picture of a mediæval wizard.
‘Welcome, my dear Maud,’ said the old man in low even tones, as the door opened. ‘I heard your step outside the door, and I heard your sweet voice too. So I know you do not come alone. Who is your companion to-day?’
‘Guess!’ cried Maud, with her rippling laugh: ‘Guess, Mr. Meredith! It is somebody that I know you want to see.’
The old man’s face changed and quivered with emotion. He rose from his seat, and held out both his hands.
‘It is Philip Debenham’s boy come back at last—my oldest friend’s only son. Come here, my lad, and take an old man’s blessing. For your dead father’s sacred memory, I bid you welcome here.’
Tor felt unpleasantly like an impostor as he grasped the hands of the blind old man, buthe betrayed no hesitation either in word or manner.
‘I am very glad to see you, sir. It is very pleasant to be so warmly welcomed by almost unknown friends and relations, after eighteen years of banishment.’
The old man’s face fell suddenly.
‘That is not a Debenham voice,’ he said, and he sat down with a sigh.
Maud laughed, and gave Tor a merry glance from her blue eyes. Then she sat down at the old man’s feet, and stroked one of the long white hands.
‘Now, Uncle Michael, don’t be tiresome!’ she began in her winning way. When most wishful to please him, she always called him ‘Uncle Michael.’ ‘If you go off into a melancholy fit just because Phil’s voice is not like papa’s, he will be afraid to come and see you again. You know the Debenhams are never very brave;’ and she gave Tor another laughing look.
Michael Meredith smiled, and sighed with gentle resignation.
‘Ah, child, you do not understand these things; you are too young to comprehend thetender, lingering memories of the past—the yearning for some living link of association with bygone days. You have been one such living link, my sweet Maud. I hoped in Philip to find another. Come here, boy. Kneel down before me here; let me pass my hand across your face. Perhaps I shall find traces there of your father, my friend, whom I so dearly loved.’
Tor did his bidding readily, with the same consciousness of humbug that he had before experienced; but this time the comical side of the situation was uppermost in his mind.
The blind man felt his face carefully, passing his hands repeatedly over the boldly cut features; but his own face assumed an expression of disappointment.
‘Not a Debenham face either,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘You are only a Debenham in name, boy.’
Tor smiled as he rose to his feet, thinking how much nearer than he knew, was the blind man to his mark. Maud laughed brightly.
‘Phil has struck out quite a new line for himself; and I am glad of it,’ she said gaily. ‘I like him to be different from everybody else.’
‘Ah, yes! you are a child—you are a child,’ returned Michael Meredith, with a gentle sigh. ‘You do not understand these things. But let that pass—let that pass. It is, after all, only an old man’s fancy. Come and sit beside me, Philip. Tell me of yourself, your travels, and of my beloved Italy. You must be familiar enough with that, I imagine. Who does not love Italy?’
Tor was at his ease now, and in his element. He could talk well and fluently of what he had seen and what he had done in distant lands. His tales were not as marvellous and thrilling as those of many travellers; his rovings had not extended, for the most part, beyond the regions of civilization, but he had had adventures enough and to spare, and experiences of every description, and he could tell a story graphically and well.
Maud listened delightedly for a long while, but when the talk turned upon Italy and Italian art and society, her attention waned somewhat, and presently she slipped quietly from the room. She made her way under an arched doorway, and down a long flagged passage, which led to some building independentof the house, and only connected with it by this passage. At the end was a red-baize door, which opened noiselessly into a great bare room lighted from the roof, which, as could be seen at a glance, was a sculptor’s studio.
There was only one living occupant to this large silent place, and that was a girl, who was so intent at work over a group in terra cotta, that she had not heard the quiet entrance of her visitor.
Roma Meredith was very handsome, with a dark, majestic, southern beauty, which she had inherited from her Italian mother. She had magnificent dark eyes, and masses of hair of an intense blue-black, and her figure was tall and perfectly proportioned, and her proud still features were faultless as those of a Grecian statue.
‘Roma!’ cried Maud softly. ‘Roma, I have brought Phil to see your father. He is such a sweet darling boy! You must come and see him.’
Roma looked up at the sound of Maud’s voice, and a faint smile awoke in her eyes; but it died away again as the sentence proceeded.
‘I am busy, Maud. You know that daylight-time is precious.’
‘Bother your old statues, Roma! You must come and see Phil. Heisso handsome, and such an angel-boy!’
Roma smiled, but only to please Maud. She was fond of the bright-faced impulsive girl; but it was to very few that the young artist extended her friendship.
‘I am glad he pleases you. Long-delayed meetings do not always turn out so well.’
‘He is perfect!’ Maud cried ecstatically. ‘Oh, Roma, we are going to live at Ladywell almost directly, and Aunt Olive too. Won’t it be lovely to escape from that dreadful Aunt Celia! Things are a little better now Phil is here, for he won’t let anyone bully me, and nobody tries; but it will be splendid to escape altogether, and to be mistress of a big house, and to have nobody to order me about. You must come often to see me, Roma; we will have delightful times there!’
Everything wascouleur de roseto Maud now, and she was delighted to pour out her soul to her friend. Roma put down her tools and sat down to listen, her quiet face expressinga certain amount of sympathy, but no excitement. Maud thought her almost more grave than usual.
‘But you must come and see him yourself, Roma!’ cried the girl, suddenly jumping up. ‘It is almost time we were going, so you must come. I’m sure Uncle Michael would want you to see him. He is amusing him so nicely with his stories.’
Tor had already risen to go, had promised to repeat his visit soon, and was looking about for Maud, when the door opened, and she came in, with Roma following.
‘My daughter, Philip,’ said the old man, detecting at once the well-known, quiet tread. ‘You must be friends.’
They shook hands, and exchanged a few sentences, and then the guests took their departure.
‘Isn’t she lovely?’ asked Maud, the moment they were out of earshot. ‘Roma, I mean; isn’t she perfectly beautiful?’
‘She is very handsome, and she has splendid eyes, and a beautifully modulated voice; but is she not very haughty?’
‘Well, perhaps she is. I thought sheseemed so to-day. Perhaps it is her way with strangers: she goes out so very little. Don’t you admire her very much?’
‘Yes, I admire her beauty; but it isn’t the style I care for most, Maud. She is just the woman Ph—Tor would rave about. That dark Italian beauty is more to his taste than mine.’
‘Is it? He must have good taste. I wanted you to admire Roma, Phil.’
‘So I do, little sister, and so I will; but I must be allowed to admire you more!’
Maud laughed archly.
‘You bad boy! Yes, of course you may do that. How could you help it?’
When the father and daughter were alone together, there was a long silence between them. Roma stood behind his chair, gently smoothing his white locks with caressing fingers. The old man’s face was full of thought and purpose.
‘Roma,’ he said at length, ‘that is the man who is to be your husband.’
‘Yes, father,’ she answered, in calm, even tones.
Her dark eyes seemed to flash fire, andthen the light died out and left behind a melancholy dimness; but that the blind man could not see.
‘You are willing it should be so, my daughter?’
‘Yes, father.’
The voice betrayed no shadow of reluctance.
‘It has been my cherished scheme for years—even when he was a friendless outcast. I would for some reasons he were still poor and friendless, so that my wealth might enrich him. But now I shall see you reigning as queen at Ladywell Manor.’
Roma’s face grew cold and haughty, yet her voice was gentle—even playful.
‘Perhaps he may have other views himself, father. I am not the only woman in the world.’
The blind man shook his head with a gentle smile of certainty. He had all the quiet egotism of a nature wrapped up in itself—of a man whose will had never been crossed, because he had never mingled with his fellows.
‘No, Roma. I have read his nature already. I can bend him to my will. But it will not be needed, I think. He has seen you. He willsee you again. That will be enough. Roma, you must do your part. I shall expect it of you.’
‘Yes, father.’
He put up his hand and took hers caressingly.
‘You are quite heart-whole, my child? You have never loved any man except your old father?’
Her eyes softened with unspeakable tenderness.
‘Never, father—never, never!’ she answered passionately; ‘and I do not think I ever shall.’
He smiled like a man well pleased.
‘Oh yes, you will, my little Roma. You will love your husband, and make him a good wife, as my daughter should do. You will love him when you are married, Roma. Love should come after marriage, not before, if it is to last.’