[THE OPENING OF THE COFFIN]
Shall I ever forget the day which followed?--the greatest in all my life! I'll have to be very old first, and far gone in my dotage. When I woke up in the morning I couldn't think where I was. I hadn't slept out of Little Olive Street, since James took me there after we were married, I don't think half-a-dozen times. And never in such a room as I was in then; nor yet in one anywhere like it.
When it all came back to me somehow I felt happier than I'd done for I don't know how long. I'd had a good night's sleep; not a worry on my mind. I could have sung as I lay in bed; yes, and laughed. There were the children; Jimmy on one side, and Pollie on the other. They'd wanted to make up a separate bed for them, but I wouldn't hear of it; and when that grand lady, who it seemed was the housekeeper, put on airs, as if they were her children, I let her see--and I felt sure that, before very long, their father'd be beside me too.
I wasn't a bit afraid. With the night even the last shadow of a doubt had gone. Whatever or whoever was in that mausoleum place they talked about, and which we should soon be going to see, I knew it wasn't James there. There might be trouble in it for some one, but I was sure it wasn't for me.
We had breakfast with the family--oh dear! it was a meal. There was the young gentleman and Miss Desmond and the children and me. I was on pins and needles all the time lest the children should do something they didn't ought. They weren't used to eating in company; and everything was that grand I was in a muddle enough myself without having to think of them. The servants--the serving-men that is--they were the worst. The children couldn't eat their breakfast for staring at them. They asked all sorts of questions--about their white stockings, and their white hair and I don't know what. The young gentleman seemed to think it was a joke. But Miss Desmond could see I wasn't comfortable; so she sent the men out of the room, and then we had a little peace.
It was a lovely morning when we started to drive to the station, Miss Desmond, the young gentleman, and me; in a beautiful carriage, with such a pair of horses! I'd have liked to have stroked them, only I didn't dare. I hadn't touched a horse since I was at home at the farm. There was a special whole carriage engaged for us in the train; and waiting for us on the platform was Sir Gregory Hancock, and Dr. Clinton, and, of course, Mr. FitzHoward. He was the most important person of us all. I don't know if he was supposed to be managing everything, but he might just as well have been. He was dressed in black from head to foot, with a band of crape right up to the top of his hat, and another round his arm. He did make me so angry. Just as though any one was dead who had to do with him--or me either. As if I didn't know my James was alive. I was dressed as I always am. When he saw it he looked at me as if I'd done something improper. About some things he has no sense.
Just as the train was going to start up came Mr. Howarth, and, with him, Lady Violet. I don't believe either of them was expected. Lady Violet was pretty stiff. She just gave Miss Desmond an icy kiss on the cheek, the young gentleman the tips of her fingers, and towards me she gave a little movement with her head, as if she wished me to understand that she saw me, and that was all she intended to do. Mr. Howarth seemed quite ill. He even walked like a sick man; coming along the platform with uncertain steps, as if he found it difficult to lift his feet.
We were a strange company, as the train bore us into the country out of the town. Mr. Howarth's face got on my nerves. That something was badly wrong with him one couldn't help seeing. I couldn't help looking his way every now and again, and every time I did my spirits sank a little lower. Lady Violet sat as straight as a broom handle; with pale face, shut lips, and gleaming eyes. Scarcely a word would she speak to any one. The way she treated the young gentleman--considering they were sweethearts, as Miss Desmond had told me--was queer. These two had a depressing effect on all of us. And when you put to that the fact that Mr. FitzHoward had taken it into his head all of a sudden to behave as if he were a mute at a funeral, and would do nothing except look straight along the tip of his nose, it will be seen that we weren't exactly lively. If it hadn't been for the two doctors I doubt if a dozen words would have been said. Somehow I felt that the whole affair amused Dr. Clinton; and he and Sir Gregory kept talking together in whispers nearly the whole of the way.
There were carriages to meet us at the station where we stopped--though I had begun to think that we never should get there; and presently we were bowling along through country lanes. After we had gone some way, perhaps three or four miles, we turned through some open gates into an avenue of trees. One thing I noticed, that they were all elms and silver beeches; and that they were planted in turns, so that when there was an elm on one side there was a beech upon the other.
It was a great old house we came to. We passed under an arch into a courtyard, where there was a fountain in the middle. If all this indeed belonged to my James I couldn't help wondering more and more why he gave it all up; and, above all, how he ever came to marry the likes of me. There was a huge fire blazing in the hall, which cheered it up a bit. It wanted brightening, for it was so large, and the black oak walls made it seem more than a little grim and sombre.