<SPAN name="chap25"></SPAN>
<h3> CHAPTER XXV </h3>
<p>Sir William drew Lashmar aside.</p>
<p>"What brought this about?" he asked. "What has been going on?"</p>
<p>Dyce, whose nerves were in a tremulous state, did not easily command
himself to the quiet dignity which the occasion required. He saw that
the baronet regarded him with something of suspicion, and the tone in
which he was addressed seemed to him too much that of a superior. With
an effort of the muscles, he straightened himself and looked his
questioner in the face.</p>
<p>"There has been a painful scene, Sir William, between Lady Ogram and
her niece. Very much against my will, I was made a witness of it. I
knew the danger of such agitation, and did my best to calm Lady Ogram.
Miss Tomalin had left the room, and the worst seemed to be over. We
were talking quietly, when the blow fell."</p>
<p>"That is all you have to say?"</p>
<p>"I am not sure that I understand you, Sir William," Lashmar replied
coldly. Being slightly the taller, he had an advantage in being able to
gaze at the baronet's forehead instead of meeting his look. "You would
hardly wish me to speak of circumstances which are purely private."</p>
<p>"Certainly not," said the other, and abruptly moved away.</p>
<p>Lady Amys and Constance stood together near the couch on which Lady
Ogram was lying. With a glance in that direction, Lashmar walked
towards the door, hesitated a moment, went out into the hall. He had no
wish to encounter May; just as little did he wish for a private
interview with Constance; yet it appeared to him that he was obliged by
decorum to remain in or near the house until the doctor's arrival.
Presently he went out onto the terrace, and loitered in view of the
front windows. That Lady Ogram was dying he felt not the least doubt.
Beneath his natural perturbation there stirred a hope.</p>
<p>Nearly an hour passed before Dr. Baldwin's carriage rolled up the
drive. Shortly after came another medical man, who had been summoned at
the same time. Whilst waiting impatiently for the result of their
visits, Lashmar mused on the fact that May Tomalin certainly had not
taken her departure; it was not likely now that she would quit the
house; perhaps at this moment she was mistress of Rivenoak.</p>
<p>Fatigue compelled him at length to enter, and in the hall he saw
Constance. Involuntarily, she half turned from him, but he walked up to
her, and spoke in a low voice, asking what the doctors said. Constance
replied that she knew nothing.</p>
<p>"Are they still in the library?"</p>
<p>"No. Lady Ogram has been carried upstairs."</p>
<p>"Then I'll go in and wait."</p>
<p>He watched the clock for another half hour, then the door opened, and a
servant brought him information that Lady Ogram remained in the same
unconscious state.</p>
<p>"I will call this evening to make inquiry," said Lashmar, and thereupon
left the house.</p>
<p>Reaching his hotel at Hollingford, he ordered a meal and ate heartily.
Then he stepped over to the office of the <i>Express</i>, and made known to
Breakspeare the fact of Lady Ogram's illness; they discussed the
probabilities with much freedom, Breakspeare remarking how sad it would
be if Lady Ogram so soon followed her old enemy. At about nine o'clock
in the evening, Dyce inquired at Rivenoak lodge: he learnt that there
was still no change whatever in the patient's condition; Dr. Baldwin
remained in the house. In spite of his anxious thoughts, Dyce slept
particularly well. Immediately after breakfast, he drove again to
Rivenoak, and had no sooner alighted from the cab than he saw that the
blinds were down at the lodge windows. Lady Ogram, he learnt, had died
between two and three o'clock.</p>
<p>He dismissed his vehicle, and walked along the roads skirting the wall
of the park. Now, indeed, was his life's critical moment. How long must
elapse before he could know the contents of Lady Ogram's will? In a
very short time he would have need of money; he had been disbursing
freely, and could not face the responsibilities of the election,
without assurance that his finances would soon be on a satisfactory
footing. He thought nervously of Constance Bride, more nervously still
of May Tomalin. Constance's position was doubtless secure; she would
enter upon the "trust" of which so much had been said; but what was her
state of mind with regard to <i>him</i>? Had not the consent to marry him
simply been forced from her? May, who was now possessor of a great
fortune, might perchance forget yesterday's turmoil, and be willing to
renew their tender relations; he felt such a thing to be by no means
impossible. Meanwhile, ignorance would keep him in a most perplexing
and embarrassing position. The Amyses, who knew nothing of the rupture
of his ostensible engagement, would be surprised if he did not call
upon Miss Bride, yet it behooved him, for the present, to hold aloof
from both the girls, not to compromise his future chances with either
of them. The dark possibility that neither one nor the other would come
to his relief, he resolutely kept out of mind; that would be sheer
ruin, and a certain buoyancy of heart assured him that he had no such
catastrophe to fear. Prudence only was required; perhaps in less than a
week all his anxieties would be over, for once and all.</p>
<p>He decided to call, this afternoon, upon Lady Amys. The interview would
direct his future behaviour.</p>
<p>It was the day of Robb's funeral, and he had meant to absent himself
from Hollingford. He remained in his private sitting-room at the
Saracen's Head, wrote many letters, and tried to read. At four o'clock
he went out to Rivenoak, only to learn that Lady Amys could receive no
one. He left a card. After all, perhaps this was the simplest and best
way out of his difficulty.</p>
<p>As he turned away from the door, another cab drove up, and from it
alighted Mr. Kerchever. Dyce had no difficulty in recognising Lady
Ogram's solicitor, but discretion kept his head averted, and Mr.
Kerchever, though observing him, did not speak.</p>
<p>By the post next morning, he received a formal announcement of Lady
Ogram's death, with an invitation to attend her funeral. So far, so
good. He was now decidedly light-hearted. Both Constance and May, he
felt sure, would appreciate his delicacy in holding aloof, in seeking
no sort of communication with them. Prudence! Reserve! The decisive day
approached.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, having need of sable garb, he had consulted Breakspeare as
to the tailor it behooved him to patronise. Unfortunately the only good
tailor at Hollingford was a Conservative, who prided himself on having
clad the late M. P. for many years. Lashmar of necessity applied to an
inferior artist, but in this man, who was summoned to wait upon him at
the hotel, he found a zealous politician, whose enthusiasm more than
compensated for sartorial defects.</p>
<p>"I have already been canvassing for you, sir," declared the tailor. "I
can answer for twenty or thirty votes in my neighbourhood—"</p>
<p>"I am greatly obliged to you, Mr. Bingham," Dyce replied, in his
suavest tone. "We have a hard fight before us, but if I find many
adherents such as you—"</p>
<p>The tailor went away and declared to all his acquaintances that if they
wished their borough to be represented by a <i>gentleman</i>, they had only
to vote for the Liberal candidate.</p>
<p>As a matter of policy, Dyce had allowed it to be supposed that he was a
man of substantial means. With the members of his committee he talked
in a large way whenever pecuniary matters came up. Every day someone
dined with him at the hotel, and the little dinners were as good as the
Saracen's Head could furnish; special wines had been procured for his
table. Of course the landlord made such facts commonly known, and the
whole establishment bowed low before this important guest. All day long
the name of Mr. Lashmar sounded in bar and parlour, in coffee-room and
commercial-room. Never had Dyce known such delicious thrills of
self-respect as under the roof of this comfortable hostelry. If he were
elected, he would retain rooms, in permanence, at the hotel.—Unless,
of course, destiny made his home at Rivenoak.</p>
<p>Curiosity as to what was going on at the great house kept him in a
feverish state during these days before the funeral. Breakspeare, whom
he saw frequently, supposed him to be in constant communication with
Rivenoak, and at times hinted a desire for news, but Lashmar's cue was
a dignified silence, which seemed to conceal things of high moment. Sir
William and Lady Amys he knew to be still in the house of mourning; he
presumed that May Tomalin had not gone away, and it taxed his
imagination to picture the terms on which she lived with Constance. At
the funeral, no doubt, he would see them both; probably would have to
exchange words with them—an embarrassing necessity.</p>
<p>Hollingford, of course, was full of gossip about the dead woman. The
old, old scandal occupied tongues malicious or charitable. Rivenoak
domestics had spread the news of the marble bust, to which some of them
attached a superstitious significance; Breakspeare heard, and credited,
a rumour that the bust dated from the time when its original led a
brilliant, abandoned life in the artist world of London; but naturally
he could not speak of this with Lashmar. Highly imaginative stories,
too, went about concerning Miss Tomalin, whom everyone assumed to be
the heiress of Lady Ogram's wealth. By some undercurrent, no doubt of
servant's-hall origin, the name of Lord Dymchurch had come into
circulation, and the editor of the <i>Express</i> ventured to inquire of
Lashmar whether it was true that Miss Tomalin had rejected an offer of
marriage from this peer. Perfectly true, answered Dyce, in his discreet
way; and he smiled as one who, if he would, could expatiate on the
interesting topic.</p>
<p>He saw Mrs. Gallantry, and from her learnt—without betraying his own
ignorance—that callers at Rivenoak were received by Lady Amys, from
whom only the barest information concerning Lady Ogram's illness was
obtainable. Neither Miss Tomalin nor Miss Bride had been seen by anyone.</p>
<p>The day of the funeral arrived; the hour appointed was half-past two.
All the morning rain fell, and about mid-day began a violent thunder
storm, which lasted for an hour. Then the sky began to clear, and as
Lashmar started for Rivenoak be saw a fine rainbow across great sullen
clouds, slowly breaking upon depths of azure. The gates of the park
stood wide open, and many carriages were moving up the drive.
Afterwards, it became known that no member of the Ogram family had been
present on this occasion. Half-a-dozen friends of the deceased came
down from London, but the majority of the funeral guests belonged to
Hollingford and the immediate neighbourhood. In no sense was it a
distinguished gathering; mere curiosity accounted for the presence of
nearly all who came.</p>
<p>Lashmar had paid his respects to Lady Amys, who received him frigidly,
and was looking about for faces that he knew, when a familiar voice
spoke at his shoulder; he turned, and saw Mrs. Toplady.</p>
<p>"Have you come down this morning?" he asked, as they shook hands.</p>
<p>"Yesterday. I want to see you, and we had better arrange the meeting
now. Where are you staying in Hollingford? An hotel, isn't it?"</p>
<p>She spoke in a low voice. Notwithstanding her decorous gravity, Lashmar
saw a ghost of the familiar smile hovering about her lips. He gave his
address, and asked at what hour Mrs. Toplady thought of coming.</p>
<p>"Let us say half-past five. There's an up train just before eight,
which I must catch."</p>
<p>She nodded, and moved away. Again Lashmar looked about him, and he met
the eye of Mr. Kerchever, who came forward with friendly aspect.</p>
<p>"Dreadfully sudden, the end, Mr. Lashmar!"</p>
<p>"Dreadfully so, indeed," Dyce responded, in mortuary tones.</p>
<p>"You were present at the seizure, I understand?"</p>
<p>"I was."</p>
<p>"A good age," remarked the athletic lawyer, with obvious difficulty
subduing his wonted breeziness. "The doctor tells me that it was
marvellous she lived so long. Wonderful woman! Wonderful!"</p>
<p>And he too moved away, Lashmar gazing after him, and wishing he knew
all that was in the legal mind at this moment. But that secret must
very soon become common property. Perhaps the contents of Lady Ogram's
will would be known at Hollingford this evening.</p>
<p>He searched vainly for Constance and for May. The former he did not see
until she crossed the hall to enter one of the carriages; the latter
appeared not at all. Had she, then, really left Rivenoak? Sitting in
his hired brougham, in dignified solitude, he puzzled anxiously over
this question. Happily, he would learn everything from Lady Toplady.</p>
<p>In the little church of Shawe, his eyes wandered as much as his
thoughts. Surveying the faces, most of them unknown to him, he noticed
that scarcely a person present was paying any attention to the
ceremony, or made any attempt to conceal his or her indifference. At
one moment it vexed him that no look turned with interest in his
direction; was he not far and away the most notable of all the people
gathered here? A lady and a gentleman sat near him, frequently
exchanged audible whispers, and he found that they were debating a
trivial domestic matter, with some acerbity of mutual contradiction. He
gazed now and then at the black-palled coffin, and found it impossible
to realise that there lay the strange, imperious old woman who for
several months had been the centre of his thoughts, and to whom he owed
so vast a change in his circumstances. He felt no sorrow, yet thought
of her with a certain respect, even with a slight sensation of
gratitude, which was chiefly due, however, to the fact that she had
been so good as to die. Live as long as he might, the countenance and
the voice of Lady Ogram would never be less distinct in his memory than
they were to-day. He, at all events, had understood and appreciated
her. If he became master of Rivenoak, the marble bust should always
have an honoured place under that roof.</p>
<p>Dyce saw himself master of Rivenoak. He fell into a delightful dream,
and, when the congregation suddenly stirred, he realised with alarm
that he had a broad smile on his face.</p>
<p>Rather before the hour she had named, Mrs. Toplady presented herself at
the Saracen's Head. Lashmar was impatiently expectant; he did his best
to appear gravely thoughtful, and behaved with the ceremonious courtesy
which, in his quality of parliamentary candidate, he had of late been
cultivating. His visitor, as soon as the door was closed, became quite
at her ease.</p>
<p>"Nice little place," she remarked, glancing about the room. "You make
this your head-quarters, of course?"</p>
<p>"Yes; I am very comfortable here," Dyce answered, in melodious
undertone.</p>
<p>"And all goes well? Your committee at work, and all that?"</p>
<p>"Everything satisfactory, so far. The date is not fixed yet."</p>
<p>"But it'll be all over, no doubt, in time for the partridges," said
Mrs. Toplady, scrutinising him with an amused look. "Do you shoot?"</p>
<p>"Why no, Mrs. Toplady. I care very little for sport."</p>
<p>"Like all sensible men. I wanted to hear what you think about Lady
Ogram's will."</p>
<p>Lashmar was disconcerted. He had to confess that he knew nothing
whatever about the will.</p>
<p>"Indeed? Then I bring you news."</p>
<p>They were interrupted by a waiter who appeared with tea. The visitor
graciously accepted a cup.</p>
<p>"Funerals exhaust one so, <i>don't</i> they?" she remarked. "I don't know
your opinion, but I think people should be married and buried far more
quietly. For my own part, I grieve sincerely for the death of Lady
Ogram. It's a great loss to me. I liked her, and I owed her gratitude
for very much kindness. But I certainly shouldn't have gone to her
funeral, if it hadn't been a social duty. I should have liked to sit
quietly at home, thinking about her."</p>
<p>"I thoroughly agree with you," replied Dyce, absently. "You came down
yesterday?"</p>
<p>"In the evening.—You know that Miss Tomalin is at my house?"</p>
<p>"I had no idea of it."</p>
<p>"Yes. She arrived the day before yesterday. She left Rivenoak as soon
as she knew about Lady Ogram's will. I'm very glad indeed that she came
to me; it was a great mark of confidence. Under the circumstances, she
could hardly remain here."</p>
<p>"The circumstances—?"</p>
<p>"Lady Ogram's will does not mention her."</p>
<p>Lashmar felt a spasm in his breast. The expression of his features was
so very significant that Mrs. Toplady's smile threatened to become a
laugh.</p>
<p>"It's rather startling, isn't it?" she continued. "The will was made a
year ago. Lady Ogram didn't mean it to stand. When she was in town, she
talked over her affairs with her solicitor; a new will was to be made,
by which Miss Tomalin would have come into possession of Rivenoak, and
of a great deal of money. You can probably guess why she put off
executing it. She hoped her niece's marriage-settlement would come
first. But the old will remains, and is valid."</p>
<p>"Will you tell me its provisions?" asked Lashmar, deliberately.</p>
<p>"In confidence. It won't be made public till the executors—Sir William
Amys and Mr. Kerchever—have proved it. I never knew a more
public-spirited will. Hollingford gets a hospital, to be called the
Lady Ogram; very generously endowed. Rivenoak is to be sold, and the
proceeds to form a fund for a lot of Lady Ogram Scholarships. A
working-girl's home is to be founded in Camden Town (it seems she was
born there), and to be called Lady Ogram House. A lady named Mrs.
Gallantry, here at Hollingford, becomes trustee for a considerable sum
to be used in founding a training school for domestic servants—to be
named the Lady Ogram. Then there's a long list of minor charitable
bequests. All the servants are most liberally treated, and a few
friends in humble circumstances receive annuities. There is not much
fear of Lady Ogram being forgotten just yet, is there?"</p>
<p>"No, indeed," said Lashmar, with studious control of his voice.
"And"—he paused a moment—"is that all?"</p>
<p>"Let me see—Oh, I was forgetting. Some money is left to Miss Bride;
not to her absolutely, but in trust for certain purposes not specified."</p>
<p>Mrs. Toplady's smile had never been more eloquent of mischievous
pleasure. She was watching Lashmar as one watches a comedian on the
stage, without the least disguise of her amusement.</p>
<p>"I had heard something of that," said Dyce, the tension of whose
feelings began to show itself in a flush under the eyes. "Can you tell
me—"</p>
<p>"Oh," broke in the other, "I've forgotten a detail that will interest
you. In the entrance hall of the Lady Ogram Hospital is to be preserved
that beautiful bust which you have seen at the Rivenoak. By the bye,
there are odd stories about it. I hear that it was brought out of
concealment only the day before her death."</p>
<p>"Yes. I know nothing more about it. With regard to Miss Bride's
trusteeship—"</p>
<p>"Oh, and I forgot that Hollingford is to have a fine market-hall, on
condition that the street leading to it is called Arabella Street—her
name, you know."</p>
<p>"Oh, indeed!" murmured Dyce, and became mute.</p>
<p>Mrs. Toplady amused herself for a moment with observation of the play
of his muscles. She finished her tea.</p>
<p>"I'll have another cup, if you please.—Oh yes, we were speaking of
Miss Bride. Naturally, that interests you. An odd bequest, isn't it?
She is spoken of as a trustee, but evidently the disposal of the money
is quite at her own discretion. If I remember, there are words to the
effect that Lady Ogram wishes Miss Bride to use this money just as she
herself would have done, for the purposes in which they were both
particularly interested. By the bye, it isn't money only; Miss Bride
becomes owner of the paper-mill at the village by Rivenoak."</p>
<p>"I had heard of this," said Lashmar, with a brusque movement as though
he felt cramp in his leg. He had begun to look cheerful. "I knew all
about Lady Ogram's intentions. You don't remember," he added
carelessly, "the amount of the bequest?"</p>
<p>"Mr. Kerchever tells me it represents about seventy thousand pounds."</p>
<p>Lashmar involuntarily heaved a sigh. Mrs. Toplady watched him over the
rim of her teacup, the hand which held it shaking a little with subdued
mirth.</p>
<p>"As you say," he observed, "it's a most remarkable will. But it seems
rather too bad that the poor lady's real wishes should be totally
neglected."</p>
<p>"Indeed it does. I have been wondering what Miss Bride will think about
it. Of course I couldn't speak to her on the subject. One almost feels
as if she ought at all events to give half that money to Miss Tomalin,
considering the terms on which she receives it."</p>
<p>"But," objected Dyce, "that wouldn't be fulfilling the conditions of
the bequest, which, I happen to know, were very specific. Really, it's
a most unfortunate thing that Lady Ogram died so suddenly, most
unfortunate. What a serious injustice is done to that poor girl!"</p>
<p>"After all, Mr. Lashmar," fell sweetly from the other's lips, "her
position might be worse."</p>
<p>"How? Has she an income of her own?"</p>
<p>"Oh, a trifling annuity, not worth mentioning. But I didn't speak of
that. I meant that, happily, her future is in the hands of an
honourable man. It would have been sad indeed if she had owed this
calamity to the intrigues of a mere fortune-hunter. As it is, a girl of
her spirit and intelligence will very soon forget the disappointment.
Indeed, it is much more on another's account than on her own that she
grieves over what has happened."</p>
<p>Lashmar was perusing the floor. Slowly he raised his eyes, until they
met Mrs. Toplady's. The two looked steadily at each other.</p>
<p>"Are you speaking of me?" Dyce inquired, in a low voice.</p>
<p>"Of whom else could I be speaking, Mr. Lashmar?"</p>
<p>"Then Miss Tomalin has taken you entirely into her confidence?"</p>
<p>"Entirely, I am happy to say. I am sure you won't be displeased. It
goes without saying that she does not know I am having this
conversation with you."</p>
<p>"I think, Mrs. Toplady," said Dyce, with deliberation, "that you had
better tell me, if you will, exactly what you have heard from Miss
Tomalin. We shall be more sure of understanding each other."</p>
<p>"That's easily done. She told me of your railway journey together, of
your subsequent meetings, of what happened with Lord Dymchurch, and,
last of all, what happened with Lady Ogram."</p>
<p>"Probably," said Dyce, "not all that happened with Lady Ogram. Did she
mention that, instead of remaining loyal to me, as I was all through to
her, she did her best to injure me with Lady Ogram by betraying a
secret I had entrusted to her?"</p>
<p>"I know what you refer to. Yes, she told me, of that unfortunate
incident, and spoke of it with deep regret. The poor girl simply lost
her head; for a moment she could think of nothing but
self-preservation. Put yourself in her place. She saw utter ruin before
her, and was driven almost crazy. I can assure you that she was not
responsible for that piece of disloyalty. I am afraid not many girls
would have been more heroic in such a terrible situation. You, a
philosopher, must take account of human weakness."</p>
<p>"I hope I can do that," said Lashmar, with a liberal air. "Under other
circumstances, I should hardly have mentioned the thing. But it
convinced me at the time that Miss Tomalin had deceived herself as to
her feeling for me, and now that everything is necessarily at an end
between us, I prefer to see it still in the same light, for it assures
me that she has suffered no injury at <i>my</i> hands."</p>
<p>"But, pray, why should everything be necessarily at an end?"</p>
<p>"For two or three reasons, Mrs. Toplady. One will suffice. After Miss
Tomalin had left the room, Lady Ogram insisted on my making offer of
immediate marriage to Miss Bride. Being plainly released from the other
obligation, I did so—and Miss Bride gave her consent."</p>
<p>Mrs. Toplady arched her eyebrows, and rippled a pleasant laugh.</p>
<p>"Ah! That, of course, May could not know. I may presume that, <i>this</i>
time, the engagement is serious?"</p>
<p>"Undoubtedly," Lashmar replied, grave yet bland.</p>
<p>"Then I can only ask you to pardon my interference."</p>
<p>"Not at all. You have shown great kindness, and, under other
circumstances, we should not have differed for a moment as to the
course it behooved me to follow."</p>
<p>Dyce had never heard himself speak so magnanimously; he smiled with
pleasure, and continued in a peculiarly suave voice.</p>
<p>"I am sure Miss Tomalin will find in you a steadfast friend."</p>
<p>"I shall do what I can for her, of course," was the rather dry answer.
"At the same time, I hold to my view of Miss Bride's responsibility.
The girl has really nothing to live upon; a miserable hundred a year;
all very well when she belonged to the family at Northampton, but
useless now she is adrift. To tell you the truth, I shall wait with no
little curiosity for Miss Bride's—and your—decision."</p>
<p>"Need I say that Miss Bride will be absolutely free to take any step
she likes?"</p>
<p>"How could I doubt it?" exclaimed the lady, with her most expressive
smile. "Do you allow me to make known the—the renewal of your
engagement?"</p>
<p>"Certainly," Dyce answered, beaming upon her.</p>
<p>Mrs. Toplady rose.</p>
<p>"I am so happy to have been the first to bring you the news. But it a
little surprises me that you had not learnt it already from Miss Bride,
who knew all about the will two days ago."</p>
<p>"Why should it surprise you?" said Lashmar, gently, as he took her
hand. "Naturally I have kept away from Rivenoak, supposing Miss Tomalin
to be still there; and Miss Bride was not likely to be in haste to
communicate a piece of news which, strictly speaking, hardly concerns
me at all."</p>
<p>"Be sure you come to see me when you are in town," were Mrs. Toplady's
last words.</p>
<p>And her eyes twinkled with appreciation of Lashmar's demeanour.</p>
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