Mrs. Dorriman Volume Iii Part 28

"My _dear_ Paul," she said at length, "you are not attending to me one bit!"

"I beg your pardon, mother, I think I heard what you said."

"About the doctor, Paul?"

"I think so," he answered, trying to recall her words.

"Well, you see, I shall have to get another that being the case."

"A very good thing, I should say."

"Paul! the death of an eminent medical man is not a subject for rejoicing."

"Oh! he is dead. Who is dead, mother?"

"Dr. d.i.c.kson, and you said you heard what I said. Oh! Paul."

"Well, I hear now, and I do not think I ever heard Doctor d.i.c.kson's name before."

"After that!" said Lady Lyons, throwing up her hands; "he was the only man--the only man who quite understood my const.i.tution."

"Well, I'm sorry he is dead if he was useful to you, mother, but you have been no better and no worse ever since I can remember anything.

Would you mind my leaving you for a moment? I am afraid Grace is not well."

He left her and went to find his wife.

Grace had recovered herself, and reproached him for making "a fuss."

"You know I am not strong," she said, "and easily sent up and down. I am like a shuttlec.o.c.k, and sometimes, Paul, I feel that we are not as much alike as we thought."

"Now you have hurt and vexed me still more," he said, in a tone of real vexation. "What discoveries will you make next? In what way am I your inferior? I know in many ways I am, but in what particular am I wanting to-day?"

"My inferior!" said Grace, with sudden pa.s.sion; "I feel beneath you in all things--in principle, in every thing."

She covered her face with her hands.

"I cannot understand you, dear," he said, kindly; "and if you do not wish to tell what all this means leave it alone. But my hope was that you had learned to confide in me, and I am disappointed. My mother is there, do as you like about seeing her. I said you were not well."

"I am all right," she said, throwing off her depression and her penitence at once. "Go to your mother, Paul; I am sorry you said anything about my not being well, it was only a pa.s.sing indisposition."

He left her not fully satisfied, but knowing it was useless to press her further.

Lady Lyons was overflowing with motherly sympathy, and fussed in a way Grace thought nearly intolerable, and which in days not so very long ago she would have ungraciously put a stop to.

But Paul's mother was to her a different person from the Lady Lyons she had known and laughed at in the old days, and she bore her attentions with all possible patience.

The trio sat down to dinner with those subdued feelings generally indicative of a past storm.

Lady Lyons resented Paul's evident want of interest in her physicians; and Grace was exhausted, and annoyed with herself for having given way as she had done; while Paul, while trying to converse with his mother, was conscious of a painful impression about his wife which he could not shake off.

The atmosphere was therefore not very clear to begin with; and poor Lady Lyons, feeling that subtle constraint that somehow had arisen between husband and wife, threw all at once an explosive just when Grace was least expecting it.

"It will interest you to hear, my dear, that before I came up here I went to see the grave of your little niece. I found it well-cared for, flowers, and all that you know."

"It does not interest me much," answered Grace, very languidly. "I never saw the poor little thing, and everything connected with that time is so hateful to me I never willingly recall it."

"As things are, is that not a little ungrateful, my dear? And he deserves your grat.i.tude--poor Mr. Drayton!"

"What has Grace got to be grateful for to that unhappy man?" asked Paul, with very faint curiosity.

"The money, my dear, the fortune; surely you know?"

"I hold my money from my sister," said Grace, defiantly.

"Ah! but, my dear, if he had not left it to your sister she could not have given it to you!" said Lady Lyons, quite sure now that she had put the case convincingly.

Grace grew as white as marble; she did not dare look at Paul. Rallying all her power, she said--

"It makes a great difference taking money from my sister and taking it from Mr. Drayton."

"I see no difference," said Paul, in a cold hard tone she had not believed him capable of.

"There!" said Lady Lyons. "Paul will perhaps convince you--since that money came to you...."

"Do leave the subject alone, Lady Lyons--it is hateful to me!"

"Why, dear me, my dear, this is only a whim. I am quite sure Paul agrees with me."

"I hate the subject also," said Paul angrily; and poor Lady Lyons, utterly unconscious of how she had managed to make things unpleasant, saw she had done so and began to apologise.

But Paul's expression, the disgust she saw written in his face, was too much for Grace, worn out as she was with the anxiety this very subject had given her, and she rose, tried to move to the door, and fell into her husband's arms in a faint--out of which they found it difficult to rouse her.

Paul was sorry for her and very anxious. He had seen her suffer, but he had never known her faint like this before.

For the moment, and till she recovered, everything was forgotten; but when she came round again Grace saw that she had fallen in her husband's eyes, and cried bitter tears when he turned away.

Yes, she had fallen. How often occasions had arisen when he might have been told the truth! How utterly she had kept him in the dark! He was resentful, and it was not in him to see any circ.u.mstances in extenuation. If she thought it right to benefit by this man's money, why not have said so frankly? In any conversation about Margaret, when he had spoken his mind, what was there to prevent her saying what the case was?

Mingled with indignation at the way he had been treated was also the bitter fact that they would be so much poorer than he had imagined, because, of course, the money should go back. It was the price of Margaret's happiness, and he would have none of it.

Lady Lyons, with the best intentions, drove him nearly wild that evening.

It is wonderful what powers of irritation very well-meaning people possess when they are endowed with blunt perceptions and limited intelligence.

Some days pa.s.sed on. There was constant constraint between the two who, up till now, had been so happy. Then there came the day before they sailed.

Grace was lying back in a chair, looking pale and weary, and her husband was writing.

All at once he looked up and said briefly--