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How It All Came Round, a fiction by L. T. Meade |
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Chapter 31. Where Had The Money Cares Vanished To? |
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_ CHAPTER XXXI. WHERE HAD THE MONEY CARES VANISHED TO? Hinton felt thoroughly angry; perhaps he had some cause. Webster, his college chum, his greatest friend, was coming up to town. He had heard many times and often of Hinton's promised bride, and he was coming to town, Hinton knew well at some personal inconvenience, to see her, and she refused to see him. Hinton, as well as Uncle Jasper, considered it a whim of Charlotte's. He was surprised. Nay, he was more than surprised. He was really angry. Here was the woman, who in a week's time now must stand up before God and promise solemnly to obey him for all the remainder of her life, refusing to attend to his most natural desire. She had an engagement, and she would not tell him what it was; she made a secret of it. Be the secret little or great, she knew how he disliked all such concealments. Was it possible that he was deceived in Charlotte after all? No, no, he was too really loyal to her, too sincerely attached to her: her frankness and sweetness were too natural, too complete, for him really to doubt her; but he owned that he was disappointed--he owned that he had not the greatness which she under similar circumstances would have exercised. She was keeping him in the dark--in the dark he could not trust. He recalled, with feelings of anything but pleasure, her last secret. She thought little of it. But Hinton knew how differently he had received it; he did not like to be reminded of it now. During the last few weeks he had managed almost completely to banish it from his thoughts; but now it came back to his memory with some force; it reminded him of Mrs. Home. Was it possible that he was acting wrongly in not searching into her rights? Was it possible that things had already come to such a pass with him, that he would not do the right because he feared the consequences? Had riches and wealth and worldly honor already become dearer to his soul than righteousness and judgment and truth? These condemnatory thoughts were very painful to the young man; but they turned his feelings of indignation from Charlotte to himself. It was nearly a month now since he had left Mrs. Home. When he went away he had provided her with another lodger. He remembered that by this time she must have come back from Torquay. As this thought came to him he stopped suddenly and pulled out his watch. Webster would not be at Paddington before two o'clock. He had nothing very special to do that morning, he would jump into a hansom and go and see Mrs. Home and Harold. He put his ideas into execution without an instant's delay, and arrived at Kentish Town and drew up at the well-known door at quite an early hour. Daisy and the baby were already out, but Harold, still something of an invalid, stood by the dining-room window. Harold, a little weary from his journey, a little spoiled by his happy month at Torquay was experiencing some of that flatness, which must now and then visit even a little child when he finds he must descend from a pedestal. For a very long time he had been first in every one's thoughts. He had now to retire from the privileges of an invalid to the everyday position, the everyday life of a healthy child. While at Torquay his mother had no thought for any one but him; but now, this very morning, she had clasped the baby in such an ecstasy of love to her heart, that little spoiled Harold felt quite a pang of jealousy. It was with a shout therefore of almost ecstasy that he hailed Hinton. He flew to open the door for him himself, and when he entered the dining-room he instantly climbed on his knee. Hinton was really fond of the boy, and Harold reflected with satisfaction that he was altogether his own friend, that he scarcely knew either Daisy or the baby. In a moment entered the happy, smiling mother. "Ah! you have come to see your good work completed," she said. "See what a healthy little boy I have brought back with me." "We had just a delicious time," said Harold, "and I'm very strong again now, ain't I, mother? But it wasn't Mr. Hinton gave us the money to go to Torquay, it was my pretty lady." "Do you know," said Mrs. Home, "I think you were scarcely, for all your great, great, and real kindness, scarcely perfect even in that respect. I never knew until a few days ago, and then it was in a letter from herself, that you are so soon to marry Charlotte Harman." "Yes, we are to be married on the twentieth," answered Hinton, "Has she written to you? I am glad." "I had one letter from her. She wrote to ask about my boy, and to tell me this of you." "She takes a great interest in you," said Hinton. "And I in her. I believe I can read character fairly well, and in her I see----" "What?" asked the lover, with a smile. "In brow, eyes, and lips I see truth, honor, love, bravery. Mr. Hinton, you deserve it all, but, nevertheless, you are drawing a great prize in your wife." "I believe I am," answered the young man, deeply moved. "When _can_ I see my pretty lady again?" asked Harold, suddenly. "If you are going to marry her, do you mean to take her quite, quite away? When may I see her?" "Before very long, I hope, my dear boy," answered Hinton. "He has talked of her so often," said the mother. "I never saw any one who in so short a time so completely won the heart of a little child; I believe the thought of her helped to make him well. Ah! how thankful I am when I look at him; but Mr. Hinton, there is another thing which gives me great joy just now." "And that?" said Hinton. "Last night something very wonderful happened. I was at home not two hours, when I was surprised by a visit from one whom I had never seen before and whom I had supposed to be in his grave for over twenty years. My dear mother had one brother who went to Australia shortly after her marriage. From Australia the news reached her of his death. He was not dead; he came back again. I had a visit from that uncle last night." "How strange!" said Hinton. "Yes; I have not heard his story yet. He met my little Daisy in Regent's Park, and found out who she was through her likeness to my mother. Is it not all like a romance? I had not an idea who the dear old man was when he came to visit me last night; but how glad I am now to feel that my own mother's brother is still alive!" Hinton asked a few more questions; then after many promises of effecting a meeting very soon between Charlotte and little Harold he went away. He was puzzled by Mrs. Home. The anxious woman he had thought of, whose sad face often haunted him, was gone, and another peaceful, happy, almost beautiful in her serenity, had come in her place. Her joy at Harold's recovery was both natural and right; but where had the money cares vanished to? Surely Charlotte's fifty pounds could not have done more than pay the Torquay trip. As to her delight over her Australian uncle's return, he rather wondered at it, and then forgot it. He little guessed, as he allowed it to vanish from his mind, how it was yet to influence the fate of more lives than his. _ |
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