Merry Go Round (15 page)

He was immovable; and Miss Ley, to whom the point of view seemed quite ridiculous, turned away with a shrug of the shoulders. A special licence had been obtained, and on the following Friday, the day fixed for the marriage, Bella with a heavy heart put on a travelling-dress. They were to take the train immediately after the ceremony, catch the afternoon boat to Calais, and thence travel directly to Milan. The Dean, informed by Miss Ley of the arrangements, had said no word. Before starting for church Bella went to her father's study to bid him good-bye; she wished to make one more effort to soften him and to gain his forgiveness.

She knocked at the door, but no answer came, and turning the handle, she found it locked.

'May I come in, father?' she cried.

'I'm very busy,' he answered, in a trembling voice.

'Please open the door. I'm just going away. Let me say good-bye to you.'

There was a pause, while Bella waited with beating heart.

'Father,' she called again.

'I tell you I'm very busy. Please don't disturb me.'

She gave a sob and turned away.

'I think nothing makes one so hard as virtue,' she muttered.

Miss Ley was waiting in the hall, and very quietly the two women walked to the church where the marriage was to take
place. Herbert stood at the chancel, and when Bella saw his bright smile of welcome she took courage; she could not doubt that she was acting wisely. Miss Ley gave her away. It was a very matter-of-fact ceremony, but afterwards in the vestry Herbert tenderly kissed his bride; then she gave a hysterical laugh to choke down her tears.

Thank heaven it's over!' she said.

The luggage had preceded them to the station, whither they now walked demurely; soon the train arrived, and the happy pair set off on their long journey. But when the Dean knew that his daughter was gone from his house for good and all, he came out of his study; with aching heart he went to her room and noted the loneliness which seemed already to fill it; he went to the drawing-room, and that was bare and empty, too. For a while he sat down, and since none could see, surrendered helplessly to his grief; he asked himself to what he could now look forward, and with joined hands prayed that death might soon release him from his utter misery. Presently, taking his hat, he walked through the cloister, thinking in the cathedral he loved so well to gain at least a measure of peace; but in the transept his eye caught the large plate of polished brass on which were graven the names of all the Deans his predecessors: first there were strange Saxon names, half mythical in appearance, and then the sonorous names of Norman priests, names of divines remembered still in the stately annals of the English Church, great preachers, scholars, statesmen; and lastly his own. And the fire came to his cheeks, anger inflamed him, when he thought that his name, not a whit behind the proudest of them all in dignity and honour, must henceforth be utterly shameful.

At luncheon the Dean, exerting himself to shake off his despondency, spoke with Miss Ley of indifferent topics. In a little while she glanced at the clock.

'Bella must be just leaving Dover now,' she said.

'I would rather you didn't talk to me of her, Polly,' he answered, with a shaking voice which he strove to render firm. 'I must try to forget that I ever had a daughter.'

'I believe that the most deep-rooted of human passions is
that which makes men cut off their nose to spite their face,' she answered dryly.

Afterwards Miss Ley expressed a wish to drive over to Leanham and Court Leys, and invited the Dean to accompany her, but on his refusal ordered the carriage to be ready at three. For several years she had not seen the house wherein her ancestors, since the time of George II, had been born; nor was it without a discreet emotion that she recognized the well-known fields, the flat marshes, and the shining sea, which at that spot, to her partial eyes, had a peculiar charm not to be found elsewhere. She drove to Leanham Church, and getting the key, walked in to look at the stones and brasses which preserved the memory of her forebears: a new tablet recorded the birth, death, and qualities of Edward Craddock, and underneath a space was left for the name of his widow. She could not repress a sigh when she remembered that herself and Bertha, wife of the said Edward Craddock, would bring that long list to an end: after them the chapter of the Family of Ley would be closed for ever, and the pages of Burke know them no more.

'Algernon can say what he likes,' she muttered, 'but they were a dull lot. Famines, like nations, only grow interesting in their decadence.'

Driving on, she came to Court Leys, which stood as ever white and square, as though placed upon the ground like a house of cards. Closed since the death of Craddock, husband to her niece, it wore a desolate and forsaken look; the trim and well-mown lawns were choked with weeds, and the flowerbeds bare of flowers; the closed gates, the shuttered windows, gave it a sinister appearance, and with a shudder Miss Ley turned away. She bade the coachman to go back to Tercanbury, and deep in meditation, paid no more attention to the surrounding scenes. She started at hearing her name called in tones of astonishment, and noticed that Miss Glover, sister to the Vicar of Leanham, was staring after her. She stopped the carriage, and Miss Glover quickly walked up.

'Who ever thought of seeing you, Miss Ley? It's quite like old times.'

'Now, don't gush, my dear. I'm staying with my cousin at the Deanery, and I thought I would come over and see if Court Leys still stood in its place.'

'Oh, Miss Ley, you must be very much upset. The poor Dean, they say he's quite broken-hearted! You know young Field's father was a linen-draper at Blackstable.'

'It looks as if the
mésalliance
were endemic in my family. You must never be surprised to hear that I have married my butler, a most respectable man.'

'Oh, but poor Edward was different, and he turned out so well. Where is Bertha now? She never writes.'

'I believe she's in Italy. I mean her to marry Frank Hurrell, the son of old Dr Hurrell of Ferne.'

'Oh, but, Miss Ley, will she?'

'She's never set eyes on him yet,' answered Miss Ley, smiling dryly. 'But they'd suit one another admirably.'

'Doesn't it make you feel sad to see the old house shut up?'

'My dear, I take care never to give way to regret, which is nearly as sinful as repentance.'

'I don't understand you,' answered Miss Glover. 'I don't believe it means anything to you that, as far as ever you can see, it's Ley land.'

'There you wrong me. I do feel a certain satisfaction in revisiting the place; it makes me so glad that I live somewhere else. But I dare say it's a fine thing to be born in the country on your own land, even if you're only a woman. I like to feel that my roots are here. When I look round, I can hardly resist the temptation to take off my clothes and roll in a ploughed field.'

'I hope you won't, Miss Ley,' answered Fanny Glover, somewhat shocked; 'it would look so odd.'

'Don't be ridiculous, my dear,' smiled the other. 'You're so innocent that each time I see you I expect to find wings sprouting on your shoulders.'

'I see you're just the same as ever.'

'Pardon me, I grow distinctly younger every year. Upon my word, sometimes I don't feel more than eighteen.'

Then Miss Glover made the only repartee of her life.

'I confess I think you look quite twenty-five, Miss Ley,' she replied with a grim smile.

'You impudent creature!' laughed the other, and, telling the
coachman to drive on, with a wave of the hand bade goodbye to Miss Glover,
the scenes of her youth, and the fields which seemed part of her very blood
and her bones.

Since the Dean somewhat curtly declined her offer to stay longer with him, Miss Ley set out next day for London. But a curious unrest had seized her, and she began much to regret her determination to spend the winter in England; Mrs Murray was already gone to Rome, and the sight of Bella leaving for the Continent had excited still more in Miss Ley's veins the travel-fever. She pictured to herself all the little delightful bothers of the Custom House, the mustiness of hotel 'buses, the sweet tediousness of long journeys by train, the grateful discomforts of foreign hostelries; she thought with dazzled eyes of the dingy greyness of Boulogne, and her nostrils inhaled the well-known odours of the port and station. Her nerves tingled with eagerness to forsake her house, her servants, and to plunge into the charming freedom of the idle tourist. But the train she was in stopped at Rochester, and her abstracted gaze fixed suddenly on that scene which, she remembered, Basil Kent had once highly extolled: the sky with its massive clouds was sombre, and its restfulness was mirrored on the flat surface of the Medway; tall chimneys belched winding smoke, a sinuous pattern against the greyness, and the low factory buildings were white with dust; to the observant there was indeed a decorative quality, recalling in its economy of line, in its subdued and careful colour, the elegance of a Japanese print.

Miss Ley sprang up.

'Give me my dressing-bag,' she said to her astonished maid. 'You can go on to London. I shall stay here.'

'Alone, madam?'

'D'you think anyone will run away with me! Be quick, or I shall be taken on.'

She seized her bag, jumped out of the carriage, and when the train steamed away gave a great sigh of relief; it quietened her
nerves to be alone in a strange town, where none knew her, and walking downstairs she felt a most curious exhilaration. She surveyed the hotel 'buses, chose the most elaborate, and drove off.

With characteristic wilfulness, Miss Ley set no great store on the more celebrated objects that tourists visited; she had an idea that a work of art could arouse but a limited amount of enthusiasm, and this, with such as were world-renowned, seemed exhausted before ever she came to them. On the Continent, when she visited a fresh town, it was her practice to wander at random, watching the people, and nothing delighted her more than to discover some neglected garden or a decorated doorway, which the good Baedeker, carefully left at home, did not mention. That afternoon, then, in the lamplight, the inhabitants of Rochester might have seen a little old woman, plainly dressed, sauntering idly down the High Street, observing with keen eyes, amused and tolerant, and upborne, evidently, by a feeling of great self-satisfaction. At that moment the house in Old Queen Street seemed a prison, of which the faithful butler was head-gaoler; and the admirable dinner, all prepared, was more abhorrent than skilly and hard bread.

Presently, growing tired, Miss Ley returned to the hotel, and after resting went down to the dining-room. The waiter placed her at a little table, and while waiting for dinner to be brought she played absently with the Renaissance jewel which never left her. It had not yet occurred to her to examine the people who sat in the large room, and now, slowly raising her eyes, she saw fixed upon her, with a terrified expression, those of – Mrs Castillyon; her face was livid with anxiety. At first Miss Ley did not understand, but then she perceived that Reggie Bassett was there also. No sign of recognition passed between the two women; Mrs Castillyon looked down, and with scarcely a movement of the lips, spoke to Reggie. He started, and instinctively was about to turn around, but a quick word from his neighbour prevented him. Though seated some way from Miss Ley, they spoke in hurried whispers, as though afraid the very air should hear them. Miss Ley curiously glanced up once more, and once more Mrs Castillyon's eyes were hastily
lowered. The ghastly pallor of her face was such that Miss Ley thought she would faint. Reggie poured out a tumbler of champagne which Mrs Castillyon quickly drank.

'I don't think they'll have a very pleasant dinner,' murmured the elderly spinster, repressing a smile. 'I wonder why on earth they chose Rochester.'

Then, mentally, she abused Frank for not telling her what she felt certain he very well knew. Indeed, Miss Ley was scarcely less confused than Mrs Castillyon, for she had no idea there existed such a relationship between the pair as to occasion a visit to the country from Saturday to Monday. But she put two and two together. She pursed her lips when she remembered that Paul Castillyon was at that time in the North of England speaking at a political meeting, and again smiled quietly to herself. She was devoured with eagerness to know how her neighbours would conduct themselves, for it always amused her to see in what manner people acted in untoward circumstances. She appeared not to look at them, but was able, notwithstanding, to note the hurried colloquy, followed by an uneasy silence, with which they finished their meal. It could not be denied that Miss Ley ate her dinner not only with equanimity, but with added zest.

'I didn't know they cooked so well in English hotels,' she murmured. She called the waiter. 'Can you tell me who that lady is at the fifth table from here?'

'Mrs Barlow, madam. They only arrived this afternoon.'

'And is the gentleman her husband or her son?'

'Her husband, madam, I think.'

'Pray bring me a newspaper.'

Mrs Castillyon and Reggie were bound to pass her on their way to the door, and Miss Ley, somewhat ill-naturedly, determined to remain where she was. Her sight was good enough for her to notice a look of utter despair on the pretty woman's face when a
Westminster Gazette
accompanied the coffee. Miss Ley arranged it in front of her, and was soon engrossed in the perusal of a leading article.

There was no help, and Mrs Castillyon was obliged to make the best of it. Reggie got up and strolled out, his eyes glued to
the floor, with a scowl on his handsome features which indicated that Mrs Castillyon would suffer for the mischance. But she was bolder; she walked a few steps behind him, uprightly, with a swaying movement of the hips that was habitual to her, and arriving in front of Miss Ley, stopped with a very natural cry of surprise.

'Miss Ley, of all people! How delightful to find you down here!'

She held out her hand with every appearance of joy. Miss Ley smiled coldly.