Chapter Twenty Five.
The Blow Falls.
Two days later, Maud was sitting reading in the drawing-room, when the door opened, the servant pronounced a name which thrilled her with surprise, and, looking up, she beheld Ned Talbot standing before her,—Ned Talbot, or the wraith of Ned, for so pale did he appear, so worn and haggard, that it needed no words to tell the nature of his visit.
Maud had heard about the anxieties of the last few months, and had grieved for Ned in her tender heart, feeling an added bitterness in the lot which forbade her the privilege of comforting him; but now it would appear that Fate had led them to each other, and even her modesty could not mistake the relief in voice and manner as his eyes rested upon her.
“Maud,” he cried,—“Maud, it is you! Oh, this is good, this is better than I hoped for, to find you here, and alone! I was longing for your help; but you are so much away nowadays that I seldom see you. Well, Maud, it has come—the end has come! I have thrown up my post, and have to face the world again, and the whole weary fight from the beginning. All these years have been wasted; the time has gone, and the money, and the strength, and here I am at the end, stranded and beaten! You may wonder how I have the audacity to show myself among you. If I had any pride left, I should have stayed away—”
He broke off with a hard, unnatural laugh, and Maud laid her hand on his arm with a soothing gesture, her own trouble forgotten in the necessity of soothing his.
“Come and sit down,” she said gently. “Sit down, and tell me all about it. We are not fair-weather friends, Ned, and will only care for you the more because you need help. If you have lost this post, I am sure it is from no fault of your own, so you must not be cast down. Tell me about it—Or stay! Shall I call Lilias? She is at the Grange, but I could send for her at once.”
She paused, looking inquiringly into Ned’s face, and he hesitated painfully, the colour flushing in his thin cheeks, his eyebrows twitching nervously.
“I think—not!” he said slowly at last. “She will hear soon enough, and she is so young and inexperienced that she cannot understand. Let me first talk it over with you, Maud, and then—No! It was no fault of mine, though in the last instance it was I who gave in my resignation. I could not stay on longer, and keep my self-respect. Positions were forced upon me impossible to any man of honour. My post was deliberately made untenable, and to stay on would have been the act of a coward and a scoundrel. They had got what they wanted out of me, and I was of no further use. It only remained to get rid of me as quickly as possible,—and, mark you, by my own doing in the last instance, so that they might preserve some appearance of honour before their neighbours!”
“But can such things be?” Maud wondered incredulously. “Is it really possible that men, calling themselves gentlemen and, I suppose, Christians, can be so absorbed in the idea of growing rich that they can be so low, so base? To go to a young fellow who is fighting against hard odds, to propose a scheme which looks fair and smooth, to suck his brains and steal his business from him, and then—then—to treat him as you say, and send him out on the world alone! Oh, Ned, is it possible? One can hardly believe in such wickedness. Are there many such people in your business world?”