"It went off beautifully, Uncle Bernard! Shall I tell you all about it from the beginning?" she cried, smiling at his grim visage across the dinner-table; and when he declared his lack of interest in the whole concern, she smiled again, and refused to be convinced. "Oh, but you must hear, because in a kind of way it was your party, as you are the patron, and give them all that they have... There were such crowds of people, and they looked so gay. Old Lady Everett wore a magenta satin, quite the most awful garment I ever beheld, and she got hot, poor dear, and it matched her face. And such an awkward thing happened; she brought a little basket with a few under-sized grapes, about a pound, perhaps, and presented them to Mrs Thornton with such an air of munificence, and then turned round and saw the table spread with all that exquisite fruit! She was quite angry even when Mrs Thornton explained that it also was a gift."

"Why need she have explained at all? No other woman would have thought of doing so. Why should a clergyman's wife be expected to explain her private affairs to any inquisitive stranger? Surely it is her own business what she puts on her own table?" This from Jack, in a burst of querulous impatience which brought his host's eyes upon him with an answering flash.

"If a woman in a public position provides what is obviously unsuited to her means, the least she can do is to offer an explanation. A clergyman's means do not run to expensive entertainments."

"Exactly; yet he is expected to entertain, and to humble his pride to do it in an inferior style to his neighbours. And his wife is expected to accept paltry gifts from her neighbours which another woman in her position would look upon as an insult, and to be thankful for the chance. I suppose she often is thankful, poor creature, as she has not the means of providing properly for herself."

Mr Farrell put down his knife and fork, and, leaning back in his seat, stared fixedly in Jack's face. His thin lips worked, and his eyes gleamed ominously.

"May I ask if you are speaking in general terms, or individually of the clergyman's wife in my own parish?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, I suppose she would be included, since her husband's income is insufficient for her needs."

"You are aware, of course, that I am responsible for that income?"

"I suppose so--in a way, since the living is in your gift."

"And what grounds may you have for considering it insufficient?"

Jack burst into a short laugh, undeterred by the appealing glances cast upon him by three frightened feminine listeners.

"What grounds? Why, the house is an advertis.e.m.e.nt of shabbiness; the vicar's coat is green with age, and the poor little kiddies look as if they had come out of the ark! Mrs Thornton has pluck enough for a dozen, or she would never keep things going as she does; but she looks an old woman before her time."

"Then it is your deliberate conclusion that I ought to increase the Vicar's stipend?"

Under cover of the tablecloth a little hand stole along and laid a gentle pressure on Jack's arm. He turned and met Mollie's eyes, grave and appealing, with no trace of the frivolity of which he had complained earlier in the day, and, at the sight, his irritation died a sudden death. Mollie must indeed have forgiven him when she condescended to so sweet an intimacy. The rush of joy which accompanied the thought put him at once at peace with all men.

"The labourer is worthy of his hire, sir," he answered quietly. "I call Thornton a rattling good fellow, and I should like to see him relieved of monetary troubles. It's hard lines to expect a man to be an example of all the virtues when he is constantly wondering how to make both ends meet. I don't set much store on money, as you know, but I should enjoy being in the position to do a good turn to a man like that."

Mr Farrell's sunken eyes gave forth a malicious gleam.

"You speak with feeling. Perhaps you have been enjoying a foretaste of the experience. Surely you must be the generous Unknown who contributed the hamper of fruit of which we have heard so much during the last few days!"

There was a simultaneous gasp of surprise round the table, and everyone turned to stare with curious eyes at Jack's scarlet face. Scarlet, with an embarra.s.sment which plainly proved the truth of the accusation; with anger, too, and thwarted self-will. His nostrils inflated in the old haughty manner, as he replied coldly--

"I thought we were discussing Mr Thornton's income! I fail to see what the hamper has to do with the case."

Mr Farrell gave the short, staccato sound which did service for a laugh.

"Your pardon! It is to me a very interesting sidelight. I am indebted to you for stepping in to make up for my deficiencies."

"It was very kind of you, Mr Melland--very, very kind! You don't know how much pleasure it gave. I envy you for having had such a nice thought," said Ruth earnestly. For a wonder Mollie was silent, while Victor shrugged his shoulders, and cried, between a sneer and a laugh--

"You are a sly dog, Melland. I had no idea that you were such a devoted admirer of the redoubtable Mrs Thornton."

The sneer brought Jack to his bearings in a moment. Every trace of embarra.s.sment disappeared as he faced Victor across the table, wide-eyed and defiant.

"It is the truth, none the less. I admire Mrs Thornton immensely. She is a capital little woman, and fights the odds like a Spartan. This garden-party business was a great event in her life, and she prepared for it by a series of make-shifts. I got sick of hearing about them.

Poor little soul, why shouldn't she be able to do the thing decently once in a while? She's been very kind to us; it was little enough to do in return."

"Oh, well, everything is comparative. You must be pretty flush to send about hampers of that description. I have never tasted finer fruit. I am sorry that such generosity is beyond my means," said Victor, whereat Jack scowled all the more.

"You would have spent as much on your lunches and teas if you had been in town these last weeks. What is the use of money if you can't be reckless once in a way? I am sorry that this subject has come up; but, as it has, I must ask you all to be good enough not to speak of it to Mrs Thornton. She would gush, and I loathe gush. The secret is my own, not yours, so you must please respect my wishes."

Once more Ruth came to the rescue.

"Of course, we will keep your secret. We have no right to tell without your consent," she said decisively.

Her grey eyes smiled at him across the table with a wistful sweetness.

This man, at least, was true and honest. Quick-tempered he might be, self-willed and impatient, but one could never imagine Jack Melland playing a double part, nor selling his soul for greed. And yet--and yet, one glance from Victor's eyes had power to affect her as Jack Melland's most earnest effort could never do; and Uncle Bernard, sharp- sighted as he was, treated Jack with far less confidence and favour.

"But I was never sure of him all the time, except for those few hours yesterday," she thought. "I _felt_ there was something behind. When Dr Maclure spoke to me that afternoon I knew that he meant all, and more than all, that he said; but it is not easy to make the imitation like the real thing. The moment I heard him speak to Margot I knew the difference--oh, such a difference! I shall never be deceived again."

She sat trifling with her fruit, unheeding the conversation around her, yet dimly conscious that a pa.s.sage-at-arms was still being carried on between Mr Farrell and Jack; the former indulging in caustic remarks at the young man's expense, Jack replying with more or less irritation.

A sudden gleam of excitement on Victor's face recalled her wandering thoughts, in time to hear Jack reply quickly--

"You are quite right, I am an invalid no longer. I walked about most of the afternoon and feel none the worse. I can manage even the stairs with a little help. In another few days I shall be ready for work.

There will then be no need for me any longer to trespa.s.s--"

Suddenly he stopped; and though Mr Farrell sat waiting in silence for several moments, he did not attempt to finish the sentence; for another gentle pressure on the elbow had reminded him of the wisdom of self- control. He sat with downcast eyes and firmly shut lips until Mr Farrell's mocking voice broke the silence.

"Since Mr Melland has nothing more to say, it would perhaps be as well if we made a move. I will ask you to excuse me for the rest of the evening, as I am feeling fatigued."

He rose as he spoke and turned towards the door, but even as he did so he staggered, and uttered an exclamation of pain. Mrs Wolff echoed the cry and sank back in her chair helpless and unnerved; but in an instant Victor was at his side, supporting him with a strong, steady arm.

"Send for James," he said, addressing the butler in the quiet tones of one who knows how to keep his head in an emergency. "Let me help you into the hall, sir; you will have more air there. Lean upon me!"

They moved slowly forward together, the bowed figure seeming momentarily to shrink in stature, while the glimpse of cheek, as he turned towards the door, was so ashen in colour that the girls clasped each other's hands in dismay. Then James appeared, alert, composed, capable, a carrying-chair was brought forward from some secret hiding-place, and the invalid was borne upstairs to his room.

"It's one of his 'turns,' miss," the butler explained to Ruth. "He used to have them constantly, but it's the first since you came. We'll send down for the doctor, and he'll probably stay all night. You can never tell how things may go!"

Jack Melland limped off towards the deserted smoking-room. Five minutes before, as he sat resolutely silent, he had determined to go to Mr Farrell as he sat in the library that evening, and, in the quiet of a _tete-a-tete_, announce his determination to leave the Court before the week was out; but now, once again, circ.u.mstances conspired against him.

There was a greater question at stake than his own miserable comings or goings, for the shadow of death hovered over the Court, and none could tell what the morning might bring forth.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

MRS. WOLFF.

The next morning Mr Farrell was reported better, though unable to leave his bed. His old friend, the doctor, had stayed with him for the greater part of the night, and had now taken his departure, p.r.o.nouncing all immediate danger to be over. A few days' rest would no doubt make the patient much as he had been before, to outward seeming, though to the professional eye, a little weaker, a little nearer the end.

At breakfast Mrs Wolff fussed in a feeble, self-injured manner because she was not admitted to the sick-room.

"It is so dreadful for him to be left without a woman! I can't think how he will be nursed without a woman!" she repeated monotonously, while her hearers breathed an earnest wish that, when their turn came to be nursed, it might not be by a woman of her calibre. Mr Farrell was a hundred times better off with his quiet, capable James.