Joan Haste - H. Rider Haggard (fiction books to read .TXT) 📗

CHAPTER XXXI

THE GATE OF PARADISE

 

For some days Lady Graves was completely prostrated by this new and

terrible misfortune, which, following as it did hard upon the hope of

happier things, seemed to her utterly overwhelming. She dared not even

trust herself to see her son, but kept her room, sending a message to

him to say that she was unwell and did not wish to be disturbed. For

his part Henry avoided the house as much as possible. As it chanced,

he had several invitations to shoot during this particular week, one

of them coupled with an engagement to dine and sleep; and of all these

he availed himself, though they brought him little enjoyment. On the

third morning after he had posted his letter, there came a short

answer from Mrs. Bird, stating that Joan would be well enough to see

him on the following Thursday or Friday; but from Joan herself he

received no reply. This note reached him on a Friday, just as he was

starting to keep his aforesaid engagement to shoot and sleep. On

Saturday he returned to Rosham to find that his mother had gone to

town, leaving a note of explanation to be given to him. The note

said:—

 

“Dear Henry,—

 

“I am going to London to stay for a few days with my old friend and

your grandmother, Lady Norse. Circumstances that have recently

arisen make it necessary that I should consult with the lawyers,

to see if it is possible for me to recover any of the sums that

from time to time have been expended upon this estate out of my

private fortune. I am not avaricious, but if I can obtain some

slight provision for my remaining years, of course I must do so;

and I desire that my claim should be made out legally, so as to

entitle me to rank as a creditor in the bankruptcy proceedings

which are now, I suppose, inevitable.

 

“Your affectionate mother,

“E. Graves.”

 

Henry put the letter into his pocket with a sigh. Like everything

else, it was sad and humiliating; but he was not sorry to find that

his mother had gone, for he had no more wish to meet her just now than

she had to meet him. Then he began to wonder if he ought to take any

steps to advise Mr. Levinger of his intentions, so that the mortgagee

might proceed to recover such portion of the capital advanced as the

assets would realise. On the whole he determined to let the matter be

for a while. He was sick to death of arguments, reproaches, and

affairs; it would be time enough to face these and other disagreeables

when he had seen Joan and was about to marry her, or had already done

so. There was no pressing need for hurry. By Mr. Levinger’s help

arrangements had been made under which the vacant farms were being

carried on for the present, and he had a little money in hand. He

remembered, indeed, that he was engaged to stay at Monk’s Lodge on the

following Friday. Well, he could telegraph from London making his

apologies and saying that he was detained in town by business, which

would save the necessity of writing an explanatory letter. One step he

did take, however: he wrote to an old messmate of his who held an

under-secretaryship in the Government, explaining the condition of the

estate to which he had succeeded, and asking him to interest himself

to obtain him a consulship, no matter how remote, or any other

suitable employment. Also he put himself in communication with the

Admiralty, to arrange for the commutation of his pension, which of

course was not liable for his father’s debts, so that he might have

some cash in hand wherewith to start in married life. Then he composed

himself to wait quietly at Rosham till the following Friday, when he

purposed to go to town.

 

Lady Graves’s note to Henry was true in substance, but it was not the

whole truth. She was still an able and an energetic woman, and her

mind had not been idle during those days when she kept her room,

refusing to see her son. On the contrary, she considered the position

in all its bearings, recalling every word of her interviews with

Henry, and of Joan’s letter to him, no sentence of which had escaped

her memory. After much thinking she came to a conclusion—namely, that

while it would be absolutely useless to make any further attempt to

turn Henry from his purpose, it was by no means certain that the girl

herself could not be appealed to with success. She recollected that,

according to Henry’s story, Joan had all along declined to entertain

the idea of marrying him, and that even in the mad rhapsody which Mrs.

Bird had forwarded, she stated that she could never suffer such a

thing, because it would mean his ruin. Of course, as she was well

aware, should these two once meet it was probable, it was almost

certain, that Joan Haste would be persuaded to retract her

self-denying ordinance, and to allow herself to be made Henry’s wife

and a respectable member of society. The woman who was so

circumstanced and did otherwise would be more than human, seeing that

her own honour and the honour of her child were at stake, and that

consent meant social advancement to her, and the lifelong

gratification of a love which, however guilty it might have been in

its beginning, was evidently sincere. But if she could be appealed to

before they met, it might be different. At any rate it seemed to

Lady Graves that the experiment was worth trying.

 

Should she be justified in making such an appeal? This girl had been

wronged, and she had rights: could she then be asked to forgo those

rights? Lady Graves answered the question in the affirmative. She was

not a hard and worldly woman, like her daughter, nor was she careful

of her own advantage in this matter, but her dead husband’s wishes

were sacred to her and she had her son’s best interests at heart.

Moreover, she was of opinion, with Ellen, that a man has no right to

undo his family, and bring the struggle of generations to an

inglorious end, in order that he may gratify a personal passion or

even fulfil a personal duty. It was better that this girl should be

wronged, if indeed she was wronged, and that Henry should suffer some

remorse and shame, than that a day should come when others would learn

that the family had been ousted out of its place and heritage because

he had chosen to pay a debt of honour at their expense.

 

The reasoning may have been faulty, and perhaps Lady Graves was not

the person to give judgment upon a case in which she was so deeply

interested; but, such as it was, it carried conviction to her mind,

and she determined to act upon it. There was but one way to do

this—to see the girl face to face, for she would trust nothing to

letters. She had learned through Thomson the butler that Henry was not

going to town for some days, and she must be beforehand with him. She

had Joan’s address—that is, she had seen it at the head of Mrs.

Bird’s letter, and she would take the chance of her being well enough

to receive her. It was a forlorn hope, and one that Lady Graves had no

liking for; still, for the sake of all that had been and of all that

might be, she made up her mind to lead it.

 

Henry’s letter reached Kent Street in due course, and when she read it

Mrs. Bird was a proud and happy woman. She also had led a forlorn

hope, and never in her wildest moments had she dreamed that the enemy

would capitulate thus readily. She could scarcely believe her eyes:

the wicked baronet, the penny-novel villain of her imaginings, had

proved himself to be an amenable creature, and as well-principled as

any common man; indeed, she gathered, although he did not say so in as

many words, that actually he meant to marry the victim of his vices.

Mrs. Bird was dumfoundered; she read and re-read Henry’s note, then

she examined the enclosure addressed to Joan, holding it to the light

and trying to peep beneath the edges of the envelope, to see if

perchance she could not win some further word of comfort. So great was

her curiosity, indeed, that she looked with longing at the kettle

boiling on the hearth, wondering if she would not be justified in

reducing the gum upon the envelope to a condition that would enable

her to peruse the writing within before she handed it seemingly

inviolate to Joan. But at this point conscience came to her rescue and

triumphed over her curiosity, devouring as it was.

 

When first she read Henry’s letter she had determined that in the

interests of Joan’s health the enclosure must not be given to her for

some days, but by degrees she modified this decision. Joan was out of

danger now, and the