New Grub Street Part 37

She went down to the study, tapped, and entered.

'Father, I said something that I did not really mean. Of course I shall go on with the copying and finish it as soon as possible.'

'You will do nothing of the kind, my girl.' He was in his usual place, already working at Marian's task; he spoke in a low, thick voice. 'Spend your evening as you choose, I have no need of you.'

'I behaved very ill-temperedly. Forgive me, father.'

'Have the goodness to go away. You hear me?'

His eyes were inflamed, and his discoloured teeth showed themselves savagely. Marian durst not, really durst not approach him. She hesitated, but once more a sense of hateful injustice moved within her, and she went away as quietly as she had entered.

She said to herself that now it was her perfect right to go whither she would. But the freedom was only in theory; her submissive and timid nature kept her at home--and upstairs in her own room; for, if she went to sit with her mother, of necessity she must talk about what had happened, and that she felt unable to do. Some friend to whom she could unbosom all her sufferings would now have been very precious to her, but Maud and Dora were her only intimates, and to them she might not make the full confession which gives solace.

Mrs Yule did not venture to intrude upon her daughter's privacy. That Marian neither went out nor showed herself in the house proved her troubled state, but the mother had no confidence in her power to comfort. At the usual time she presented herself in the study with her husband's coffee; the face which was for an instant turned to her did not invite conversation, but distress obliged her to speak.

'Why are you cross with Marian, Alfred?'

'You had better ask what she means by her extraordinary behaviour.'

A word of harsh rebuff was the most she had expected. Thus encouraged, she timidly put another question.

'How has she behaved?'

'I suppose you have ears?'

'But wasn't there something before that? You spoke so angry to her.'

'Spoke so angry, did I? She is out, I suppose?'

'No, she hasn't gone out.'

'That'll do. Don't disturb me any longer.'

She did not venture to linger.

The breakfast next morning seemed likely to pa.s.s without any interchange of words. But when Yule was pus.h.i.+ng back his chair, Marian--who looked pale and ill--addressed a question to him about the work she would ordinarily have pursued to-day at the Reading-room. He answered in a matter-of-fact tone, and for a few minutes they talked on the subject much as at any other time. Half an hour after, Marian set forth for the Museum in the usual way. Her father stayed at home.

It was the end of the episode for the present. Marian felt that the best thing would be to ignore what had happened, as her father evidently purposed doing. She had asked his forgiveness, and it was harsh in him to have repelled her; but by now she was able once more to take into consideration all his trials and toils, his embittered temper and the new wound he had received. That he should resume his wonted manner was sufficient evidence of regret on his part. Gladly she would have unsaid her resentful words; she had been guilty of a childish outburst of temper, and perhaps had prepared worse sufferings for the future.

And yet, perhaps it was as well that her father should be warned. She was not all submission, he might try her beyond endurance; there might come a day when perforce she must stand face to face with him, and make it known she had her own claims upon life. It was as well he should hold that possibility in view.

This evening no work was expected of her. Not long after dinner she prepared for going out; to her mother she mentioned she should be back about ten o'clock.

'Give my kind regards to them, dear--if you like to,' said Mrs Yule just above her breath.

'Certainly I will.'

CHAPTER XIV. ECRUITS

Marian walked to the nearest point of Camden Road, and there waited for an omnibus, which conveyed her to within easy reach of the street where Maud and Dora Milvain had their lodgings. This was at the north-east of Regent's Park, and no great distance from Mornington Road, where Jasper still dwelt.

On learning that the young ladies were at home and alone, she ascended to the second floor and knocked.

'That's right!' exclaimed Dora's pleasant voice, as the door opened and the visitor showed herself And then came the friendly greeting which warmed Marian's heart, the greeting which until lately no house in London could afford her.

The girls looked oddly out of place in this second-floor sitting-room, with its vulgar furniture and paltry ornaments. Maud especially so, for her fine figure was well displayed by the dress of mourning, and her pale, handsome face had as little congruence as possible with a background of humble circ.u.mstances.

Dora impressed one as a simpler nature, but she too had distinctly the note of refinement which was out of harmony with these surroundings.

They occupied only two rooms, the sleeping-chamber being double-bedded; they purchased food for themselves and prepared their own meals, excepting dinner. During the first week a good many tears were shed by both of them; it was not easy to transfer themselves from the comfortable country home to this bare corner of lodgers' London. Maud, as appeared at the first glance, was less disposed than her sister to make the best of things; her countenance wore an expression rather of discontent than of sorrow, and she did not talk with the same readiness as Dora.

On the round table lay a number of books; when disturbed, the sisters had been engaged in studious reading.

'I'm not sure that I do right in coming again so soon,' said Marian as she took off her things. 'Your time is precious.'

'So are you,' replied Dora, laughing. 'It's only under protest that we work in the evening when we have been hard at it all day.'

'We have news for you, too,' said Maud, who sat languidly on an uneasy chair.

'Good, I hope?'

'Someone called to see us yesterday. I dare say you can guess who it was.'

'Amy, perhaps?'

'Yes.'

'And how did you like her?'

The sisters seemed to have a difficulty in answering. Dora was the first to speak.

'We thought she was sadly out of spirits. Indeed she told us that she hasn't been very well lately. But I think we shall like her if we come to know her better.'

'It was rather awkward, Marian,' the elder sister explained. 'We felt obliged to say something about Mr Reardon's books, but we haven't read any of them yet, you know, so I just said that I hoped soon to read his new novel. "I suppose you have seen reviews of it?" she asked at once.

Of course I ought to have had the courage to say no, but I admitted that I had seen one or two--Jasper showed us them. She looked very much annoyed, and after that we didn't find much to talk about.'

'The reviews are very disagreeable,' said Marian with a troubled face.

'I have read the book since I saw you the other day, and I am afraid it isn't good, but I have seen many worse novels more kindly reviewed.'

'Jasper says it's because Mr Reardon has no friends among the journalists.'

'Still,' replied Marian, 'I'm afraid they couldn't have given the book much praise, if they wrote honestly. Did Amy ask you to go and see her?'

'Yes, but she said it was uncertain how long they would be living at their present address. And really, we can't feel sure whether we should be welcome or not just now.'

Marian listened with bent head. She too had to make known to her friends that they were not welcome in her own home; but she knew not how to utter words which would sound so unkind.

'Your brother,' she said after a pause, 'will soon find suitable friends for you.'