Wilfrid Cumbermede Part 49

'Have you told it, then?'

'No, but I _have_ heard it alluded to.'

'By Sir Giles?'

'No.'

'By whom, then?'

'I will answer no more questions.'

'Geoffrey, I suppose?'

'You are not polite. Do you suppose I am bound to tell you all I know?'

'Not by any means. Only, you oughtn't to pique a curiosity you don't mean to satisfy.'

'But if I'm not at liberty to say more?--All I meant to say was that, if I were you, I _would_ get back that sword.'

'You hint at a secret, and yet suppose I could carry off its object as I might a rusty nail, which any pa.s.ser-by would be made welcome to!'

'You might take it first, and mention the thing to Sir Giles afterwards.'

'Why not mention it first?'

'Only on the supposition you had not the courage to claim it.'

'In that case I certainly shouldn't have the courage to avow the deed afterwards. I don't understand you, Clara.'

She laughed.

'That is always your way,' she said. 'You take everything so seriously!

Why couldn't I make a proposition without being supposed to mean it?'

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Glued," she echoed, "What do you mean?"]

I was not satisfied. There was something short of uprightness in the whole tone of her attempted persuasion--which indeed I could hardly believe to have been so lightly intended as she now suggested. The effect of my feeling for her was that of a slight frost on the Spring blossoms.

She had been examining the hilt with a look of interest, and was now for the third time trying to draw the blade from the sheath.

'It's no use, Clara,' I said. 'It has been too many years glued to the scabbard.'

'Glued!' she echoed. 'What do you mean?'

I did not reply. An expression almost of horror shadowed her face, and at the same moment, to my astonishment, she drew it half-way.

'Why! You enchantress!' I exclaimed. 'I never saw so much of it before.

It is wonderfully bright--when one thinks of the years it has been shut in darkness.'

She handed it to me as it was, saying,

'If that weapon was mine, I should never rest until I had found out everything concerning it.'

'That is easily said, Clara; but how can I? My uncle knew nothing about it. My grandmother did, no doubt, but almost all I can remember her saying was something about my great-grandfather and Sir Marmaduke.'

As I spoke, I tried to draw it entirely, but it would yield no further.

I then sought to replace it, but it would not move. That it yielded to Clara's touch gave it a fresh interest and value.

'I was sure it had a history,' said Clara. 'Have you no family papers?

Your house you say is nearly as old as this: are there no papers of _any_ kind in it?'

'Yes, a few,' I answered--'the lease of the farm--and--'

'Oh! rubbis.h.!.+' she said. 'Isn't the house your own?'

'Yes.'

'And have you ever thoroughly searched it?'

'I haven't had time yet.'

'Not had time!' she repeated, in a tone of something so like the uttermost contempt that I was bewildered.

'I mean some day or other to have a rummage in the old lumber-room,' I said.

'Well, I do think that is the least you can do--if only out of respect to your ancestors. Depend on it, they don't like to be forgotten any more than other people.'

The intention I had just announced was, however, but just born of her words. I had never yet searched even my grandmother's bureau, and had but this very moment fancied there might be papers in some old chest in the lumber-room. That room had already begun to occupy my thoughts from another point of view, and hence, in part, no doubt the suggestion. I was anxious to have a visit from Charley. He might bring with him some of our London friends. There was absolutely no common room in the house except the hall-kitchen. The room we had always called the lumber-room was over it, and nearly as large. It had a tall stone chimney-piece, elaborately carved, and clearly had once been a room for entertainment.

The idea of restoring it to its original dignity arose in my mind; and I hoped that, furnished after as antique a fas.h.i.+on as I could compa.s.s, it would prove a fine room. The windows were small, to be sure, and the pitch rather low, but the whitewashed walls were pannelled, and I had some hopes of the ceiling.

'Who knows,' I said to myself, as I walked home that evening, 'but I may come upon papers? I do remember something in the furthest corner that looks like a great chest.'

Little more had pa.s.sed between us, but Clara left me with the old Dissatisfaction beginning to turn itself, as if about to awake once more. For the present I hung the half-naked blade upon the wall, for I dared not force it lest the scabbard should go to pieces.

When I reached home, I found a letter from Charley, to the effect that, if convenient, he would pay me a visit the following week. His mother and sister, he said, had been invited to Moldwarp Hall. His father was on the continent for his health. Without having consulted them on the matter, which might involve them in after-difficulty, he would come to me, and so have an opportunity of seeing them in the suns.h.i.+ne of his father's absence. I wrote at once that I should be delighted to receive him.

The next morning I spent with my man in the lumber-room; and before mid-day the rest of the house looked like an old curiosity shop--it was so littered with odds and ends of dust-bloomed antiquity. It was hard work, and in the afternoon I found myself disinclined for more exercise of a similar sort. I had Lilith out, and took a leisurely ride instead.

The next day, and the next also, I remained at home. The following morning I went again to Moldwarp Hall. I had not been busy more than an hour or so when Clara, who, I presume, had in pa.s.sing heard me at work, looked in.

'Who is a truant now?' she said. 'Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Here has Miss Brotherton been almost curious concerning your absence, and Sir Giles more than once on the point of sending to inquire after you!'

'Why didn't he, then?'

'Oh! I suppose he was afraid it might look like an a.s.sertion of--of--of baronial rights, or something of the sort. How _could_ you behave in such an inconsiderate fas.h.i.+on!'

'You must allow me to have _some_ business of my own.'

'Certainly. But with so many anxious friends, you ought to have given a hint of your intentions.'