Leonore Stubbs. Lucy Bethia Walford

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СКАЧАТЬ No answer could have pleased him better. "They see you return, very properly, to the home of your childhood, where in future I shall provide for you," he gulped in his throat, and drew the rug further over his knees, but continued; "so that it is nobody's business how you are left by—by your husband."

      "Godfrey never knew," murmured she.

      "Ahem!" escaped the general.

      "Mr. Jonas is afraid he had some anxiety," continued Leonore, bravely; "but he had told some one only the day before—before he died, that he hoped things were going to pull round all right."

      "They all think that. But," proceeded her father, curbing the momentary snap, "we need not distress ourselves by entering into details about which I am as ignorant as you. I never thought a business man could—however, leave it. What we have to do is to bolster up his memory, to prevent nasty things being said of him—in short, to keep our neighbours in the dark as to the real state of affairs, for if they knew, they would certainly think it disgraceful."

      The word was out and he felt the better for it.

      Leonore started, and held her breath.

      "Aye, disgraceful," resumed her father with increasing emphasis. "I fear I must say it, and there's not a person who if he knew all that I know, would not join me in saying it. But Godfrey Stubbs was your husband, and–"

      "And they shan't dare to speak a word against him—oh, they shan't—they shall not,"—with a face of fire she turned towards him, "and, father, you can't and you mustn't, either; Godfrey–" but she could speak no more for sobbing.

      "You shall protect his memory, Leonore."

      And when the carriage drew up beneath the Abbey portico, General Boldero felt that he had accomplished the object for which he had met his daughter, and met her alone.

      CHAPTER III.

      SPECULATIONS

      "I saw old Brown-boots Boldero at the station to-day," quoth Dr. Humphrey Craig, the doctor of the neighbourhood, as he shook himself out of his greatcoat and wiped the October mist from his beard, within the hall of his comfortable house. "Spick and span as usual, and boots as glossy as if there were no such things as muddy lanes in the world. To be sure he had his carriage to-day, though."

      "His carriage?" The doctor's cheerful little wife was at once all interest; something in her husband's tone awakened interest.

      "He was bringing home that poor girl of his."

      "Leonore? Did you speak to them?"

      "To him—not to her. We had to stand together on the platform, but I sheered off directly the train came in. He had told me what he was there for."

      "But you saw Leonore arrive?"

      "I saw her, yes,—poor black little thing. There seemed nothing of her at all beneath her widow's trappings. Handsome trappings they were too; the furs of a millionairess."

      "Did she look–?"

      "Rather miserable and frightened. Scared at seeing her father, I daresay. Bland and civil as the old ruffian is, every one knows how the girls quake before him. There he was, doing the polite, footman in attendance, big carriage outside—all to be taken note of as evidence that Mrs. Godfrey Stubbs was worth it."

      "You are always down on that poor old man."

      "Can't help it. I hate him."

      "I do think you might give him credit for some fatherly feeling."

      "I don't—not a ha'porth. Fatherly feeling? Bless my soul, I can never forget his face at the time of the marriage; it was simply bursting with greedy exultation, and at what? At getting rid of the poor child to such a high bidder. Stubbs wasn't a bad fellow, but it would have been all the same if he had been. Leonore was chucked at his head–"

      "Hush—hush!"—Mrs. Craig, with a look of alarm, pointed to the green baize door which shut off the back regions. "You really should be more careful, dear; you can be heard in the kitchen, when you speak so loud."

      "Don't care if I am. They know all about it;" but as the doctor had by this time divested himself of his outer garments, and extracted the contents of their various pockets, he suffered himself to be drawn into a side room, his own sanctum, still talking. "Marriages like that are the very deuce, and the law should forbid them."

      "Plenty of girls do marry at eighteen," demurred she.

      "Plenty of follies are committed,"—but the gruff voice got no further.

      "Come, come, old bear, I am not the person to be growled at; I wasn't eighteen when I married you; that's to say, ha—ha—ha!—that's funny,—" and the brisk little woman, who had a sense of humour, laughed heartily. "You don't see? It sounded as if I were younger still,—well, never mind. You have had a horrid day, I know; comfort your poor soul,"—and with the words the wearied man was gently pushed down into his own armchair, that roomy bed of luxury into which he nightly sank when the labours of the day were over. When late like this, he had dined elsewhere, where and when he could.

      And next the mistress of the house cast around her eagle eye. She was a born housewife, and particular about all her domain, but woe betide the servant who scamped her work in this room. Mary Craig had what might be called a convincing demeanour when she chose.

      And she had not had a moment to run in and see that all was right on the present occasion; and the night was dark and chill, and her husband later than usual, having been far afield on his rounds,—it was just like Eliza to be careless—but Eliza had not been careless.

      All was as it should be; a pleasant warmth was diffused throughout the whole snug apartment by a fire which had been lit in time, and was now a mass of glowing coals; the hearth glittered, the curtains were properly drawn, the lamp properly trimmed, and books and papers neatly piled upon the various tables. She had not even to fetch the favourite pipe of the moment, as it and a couple of matchboxes lay handy at the doctor's elbow.

      "Eliza's conception of her part," nodded Eliza's mistress, pleasantly familiar with current quotations. "As she forgot a matchbox yesterday, she puts two to-day."

      "And that with a fire big enough to roast an ox!" grunted the doctor, scornfully ignoring the extra contribution, and tearing off a strip from the envelope in his hand. "Wasteful hussy—like all the rest of you;" but when he had lit up, and thrown the burning end of paper into the fender, where it was suffered to expire without a motion on his wife's part, he leaned back and his hand stole along the arm of the chair till it found quite naturally another hand, and a round, warm cheek, a dear little cheek, lay presently upon both. For a few minutes neither spoke again.

      Then Mary looked up. "Very tired to-night, Humpty?"

      Oh, if the patients who thought such worlds of their grim, overbearing Scotch doctor, and the nurses who trembled before him at the county infirmary, could have heard him called "Humpty"!—but to do so they must also have beheld the softening brow, the relaxing of the stern lips, the gradual light which crept into the piercing eyes—and only one person was ever suffered to behold these. Her tender accents unveiled what was hidden from the world.

      "Tired, darling?"

      "Well, may-be." Humpty made an effort and roused himself. "Perhaps I am, a bit. Those idiots at the infirmary let me in for a lot more trouble than I need have had,—but I daresay it will work out СКАЧАТЬ