Volume Two—Chapter Six.
Getting Languid.
If Chris Lisle had had a binocular with him when he climbed the great cliff slope, and looked down into Gartram’s garden, he would not have felt those poignant, jealous pangs. His eyes were good, and he could see that female figures were in the garden, and, naturally enough, he concluded that they were Claude and Mary. Then he saw that another figure was there, a male—he could make that out—and he quite as naturally, as he had seen Glyddyr on his way to the Fort, concluded that this was he.
But, as it happened, when Glyddyr reached the house, he was shown into Gartram’s room, where he was warmly received by that gentleman, who kept him talking and in torture, for there was the particular piece of the bookcase which he knew would open, and behind which lay sums of money, any fraction of which would set him free; and through the open window, echoing from the stone walls, came the sounds of voices in the garden, where he longed to be.
“Oh, yes, infinitely better, my dear boy, and I want you to come up and dine here to-night. No ceremony. Quiet dinner, and cigars and coffee afterwards. Little music in the drawing-room, and a walk afterwards round the garden and on the terrace, eh? You see I don’t forget your interest, Glyddyr, now do I?”
“No, sir; indeed, I only wish that—”
“Claude would throw herself at your head. Nonsense! You like her all the better because she holds you off. Better worth the wooing, my boy. No hurry. Give me time. She’s yours, Glyddyr, and as to her fortune—there, she’s my only child, and I’m very simple in my tastes and outlay, so you leave that to me.”
What an opportunity for asking a loan!
“No; it would be madness,” thought Glyddyr, and he refrained, but a curious sensation attacked him, and thoughts ran through his brain, some of which startled him.
“Is that Miss Gartram in the garden?” he said.
“Yes, my boy, yes. Asher is out there having a chat with them. Come up to see me about these confounded attacks of mine. Sort of change in one’s system, I suppose. Better soon. The worst of it is, that when I have one of these fits it seems to leave my brain a complete blank as to what has gone before. That last one, for instance, I can’t recall how I was seized, nor what upset me. Ah, here they are.”
Steps were heard outside, and directly after the little party appeared in sight, passing along the terrace by the study window towards the private entrance.
“Here! Hi! All of you come in this way,” shouted Gartram, and then turned to Glyddyr. “There, you see, not much the matter with me to have a doctor always hanging about. But I can’t sleep, Glyddyr, I can’t sleep. Well, doctor, what do you think of the garden?”
“Delightful, my dear sir. Perfect.”
“No, not perfect. Sea winds cut the things up too much. Regularly blast them sometimes. Here, come on one side; I want to talk to you about something else.”
He looked sharply at Claude, who was listening politely to some remarks of Glyddyr, while Mary was turning over the leaves of a book.
“Mary, my dear, I wish you would go and write to those people about the carriage; it’s quite time we heard from them. Oh, and by the way, there’s your aunt; write to her.”
“May I write here, uncle?”
“Eh? No. I shall want to sit down and write myself directly.”
Claude’s lips twitched, but she made no other sign, and Mary turned towards the door.
“It’s very clever of you, uncle dear,” she said to herself; “but it is of no use whatever.”
As the door closed, Gartram, who had risen, took the doctor’s arm, and walked with him towards the window.
“Look here,” he said, “I wanted to speak to you about that stuff. It isn’t strong enough. It used to be right, but I suppose I’ve got accustomed to it. Six months ago a dose sent me into a comfortable sleep. Now, two doses seem to have no effect whatever.”
Glyddyr heard his words, and a singing noise came in his ears, but Claude was beside him, and her father was evidently giving him a chance for a tête-à-tête.
“Will you have the bottles made stronger?” continued Gartram.
“Really—” began the doctor.
“There, now, you are going to make an excuse about my nerves being weak, or something of that sort. Nonsense, my dear sir; I’m as strong as a horse. Make it more powerful.”
“No. Really, Mr Gartram—”
“Oh, very well; then I shall take three times as much, and so get over you, doctor. You see you cannot help yourself. Claude, my dear,” he continued, turning sharply, “did you show Doctor Asher that new bamboo—how it is getting on?”
“No, papa; I did not think of it,” said Claude, rising hastily.
“No, no. Just like you forgetful girls. I’ll show him. This way, doctor. What is it?—Bambusa Metake. I think that’s right. Come along. Rather a rare plant for this neighbourhood.—Give the young folks a chance, doctor, eh?”
“Yes, I see,” said Asher, nodding and smiling, as he followed his patient out on to the terrace. “Bambusa Metake, eh?”
“Bamboo—bamboozle, doctor,” cried Gartram, laughing. “Now, then, about this stuff. I must have it mixed up stronger.”
“But it will be very bad for you. It is my duty to warn you of that.”
“Not half so bad as to lie in bed all night cursing my misery because I cannot sleep. What is the use of life to me if I am to suffer like this? The fits are bad enough, but when they are over, they’re over, and if I can get to lead a little more tranquil life, I dare say they will not trouble me so much.”
“That is quite right, my dear Mr Gartram; but you must see that this is a growing habit.”
“Don’t lecture, doctor; prescribe. I vow here, if you do not, I shall get the stuff from some London chemist, and prescribe for myself.”
“My dear sir! For heaven’s sake don’t do that!”
“There, you see I have the whip hand of you. You’re afraid of losing your patient, eh?”
“I should be so sorry to see you do anything reckless, Mr Gartram, that I will act as you wish. Unwillingly, mind, and only under a promise that you will be very careful, and take the medicine with great discretion.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll promise anything; only give me rest at night.”
“Very well.”
“That’s right. Now then, what do you think of the bamboozler?” cried Gartram, laughing, as he pointed to what looked like a fountain of verdure springing out of a moist, warm, well-sheltered part of the garden.
“Beautiful!” exclaimed the other. “Quite a tropic plant.”
“Yes. Too graceful to give it only a glance. Here, light a cigar and let’s take time to contemplate its beauties—and growth,” he added, with a dry laugh. “There’s no hurry, eh?”
“Well, I have another patient to see; but—”
“He can wait a little longer, eh? What do you say to a seat and a light? There, now, we can contemplate the beauties of nature all a-growing and all a-blowing,” he added, after sending out a great puff of smoke.—“By the way, recollect you dine with us to-night,” said Gartram, after about half-an-hour’s conversation.
“To-night?” said the doctor, hesitating.
“Yes. No nonsense; and you can bring me a fresh bottle in your pocket. Now, I think we may as well join them indoors, eh?”
The doctor rose and walked with his host to the study window, where Gartram ground out an oath between his teeth.
“You miserable, stupid little jade!” he muttered; “couldn’t you see that you were not wanted here?”
Mary’s eyelids drooped.
“Oh, yes, uncle dear,” she said to herself. “I understand your funny little ways, but I’m not going. Of course, I knew that I was not wanted by one, but I was by the other, and as the other was poor Claude, why, I had the letters done in five minutes, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“Why didn’t you write those letters, Mary?” said the old man fiercely.
“I did write, dear, and there they are on your table, ready for you to read over. Would you like to do it now?”
“No,” said Gartram, in his harshest voice. “Going, Glyddyr?” he continued, as the latter rose.
“Yes; I’ll walk back with Doctor Asher.”
“Ah, well, we shall see you this evening.—Don’t forget, doctor.”
He walked to the drawbridge with them, leaving Mary and Claude alone.
“There, Claudie; if any one tells you that you haven’t got a good little cousin, even if she is a bad shape—”
“Mary, darling!” cried Claude, clinging to her, “I can’t thank you enough. I felt that I must rush away out of the room, and should have done so if you had not come.”
“Was he so very dreadful, Claudie?”
“Dreadful! It was horrible. Oh, Mary, darling, pray that you may never have to listen to a man who loves you.”
“When you love somebody else, you mean?”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” cried Claude excitedly.
“Poor darling coz,” said Mary affectionately; “but I need not pray, dear. There’s no need. No man will ever sit down by me and take my hand and tell me he loves me. I shall be spared all that.”
“And now I’ve wounded you with my thoughtless speech, Mary, dear. Ah, my darling, if you only would not think of your appearance; I never do.”
“No, dear, you are beautiful.”
“Beautiful, Mary? Ah! how gladly I’d change places with you.”
“What? Young, pretty, rich, and with two lovers dying for you.”
“It is not true,” cried Claude, flushing up. “This man loves me for the money, and—”
She stopped short.
“Shall I finish?” said Mary maliciously; “and that man loves me for myself.”
“No,” said Claude sadly. “If he had loved me as he said, he would not have let himself be driven away from me so easily as he has.”
“Hist! uncle,” whispered Mary, as a heavy step was heard on the granite slabs without, and Gartram entered, scowling.
“Mary,” he cried harshly, “I thought you had some brains in your head, but you are no better than a fool.”
“I’m very sorry, uncle,” said the poor girl humbly.
“There, be off, both of you; I have some letters to write. See that the dinner is good, Claude, my dear, and—yes,” he added, as he referred to his watch, “send that woman with my medicine; it is just time.”
As he spoke, there was a tap on the panel, and Sarah Woodham, looking dark and stern in her black widows dress, entered with a glass and phial.
“Your medicine, sir,” she said in a low, impressive voice.
“Well, hang it all, woman, don’t speak as if you had come to poison me,” said the old man fiercely.
Sarah Woodham’s lips seemed to whiten, and as she drew the squeaking cork from the bottle and poured out the mixture, the neck tapped softly against the edge of the glass.