The artist’s brain was busy as he worked. He cast his mind back to the time of his mother’s death, some twelve years ago. Her second marriage had not been a success, for Bernie Franks had never properly understood her refined and gentle nature; so that when, attacked by the money-making fever, he went off to Johannesburg to make his fortune, his wife, on the plea of delicate health, remained at home with her two children.
She never saw him again, for he enjoyed life out in South Africa so much, that he would not trouble to come home, even when he knew that she was ill. When she died, he wrote for little Celia to come out to him, but changed his mind before the next mail, and wrote again, saying that her coming would greatly inconvenience him, and asking Herbert to find a boarding-school for her.
Karne was studying art in Paris at the time, but he returned to England before the funeral, and, in accordance with his mother’s last wish, took charge of his little half-sister. He and Celia were devoted to each other, and the child begged so hard not to be sent away from him to boarding-school, that he engaged a housekeeper whom his mother had known, and sent the little girl to a high school. Her education became his greatest care; and when she showed marked ability for music, he had her taught by one of the cleverest professors in the county, in order to have her talent developed in the best way possible.
And now she had come to womanhood, and was anxious to spread her wings and see a little more of the world. Her teacher, Professor Bemberger, had imbued her with the idea that, with a voice like hers, it would be a thousand pities if she did not become a professional singer. He made her dissatisfied with her quiet life at Durlston; it was tame and dull, he said. In London, she would live, not vegetate; and in glowing terms he described what her life as a successful singer would be.
Her half-brother received the idea with disfavour. Celia had no need to earn money by her voice, he said, for she was the daughter of a wealthy man; and in professional life there was disappointment to be met with, as well as success. He painted the reverse side of the picture, the hard work and many worrying details which must of necessity arise; but Celia would not be discouraged, and, as she had so set her heart on it, he reluctantly gave his consent. Now, however, that her going was decided, and everything definitely arranged, he wondered if he had done right after all.
Celia, besides being an accomplished musician, was a beautiful and winsome girl, and although not altogether lacking in savoir faire, possessed very little knowledge of the world. Might not her beauty prove a danger to her in her new life? Hitherto she had been carefully guarded, for her brother had himself chosen her friends, and her tastes and ideas had been led in the right direction. Was he wise in sending her away from his influence, where she would come into contact with all sorts and conditions of people, and must inevitably pick up fresh ideas of evil as well as good?
He was so engrossed with these thoughts that he did not notice the click of the latch as a lady opened the French window from without, and only when he heard the rustle of silken skirts was he made aware of her presence. She was a very daintily clad little woman, with a bright face and vivacious manner. Her blue eyes sparkled with kindliness, and her small mouth betokened a keen sense of humour.
Lady Marjorie Stonor may have possessed a great many faults, but her worst enemy could not have accused her of being dull. She was in the habit of dropping in at the Towers when she knew that she would find the artist at work, and although she disturbed him seriously with her light chatter, Herbert could not but be glad to see her, for she had helped him a good deal with his work amongst the factory people, and was one of Celia’s greatest friends.
He rose to greet her, and she established herself comfortably in a low wicker chair. She had come, she said, firstly to bring him an order from the county hospital for one of the factory men, and secondly to discuss Celia’s future. She was anxious to know if Mr. Karne were aware that all the Durlston people were anticipating Celia’s engagement to Dr. Geoffrey Milnes!
Mr. Karne was not aware of it; he was most astonished; he had never dreamt of such a thing. He turned round and confronted his interlocutor with a look of consternation. How on earth could such a rumour have got about?