THE threatening of storm and change passed away with the night. When
morning rose over Aldborough, the sun was master in the blue heaven, and
the waves were rippling gayly under the summer breeze.
At an hour when no other visitors to the watering--place were yet astir,
the indefatigable Wragge appeared at the door of North Shingles Villa,
and directed his steps northward, with a neatly-bound copy of "Joyce's
Scientific Dialogues" in his hand. Arriving at the waste ground beyond
the houses, he descended to the beach and opened his book. The interview
of the past night had sharpened his perception of the difficulties to
be encountered in the coming enterprise. He was now doubly determined to
try the characteristic experiment at which he had hinted in his letter
to Magdalen, and to concentrate on himself--in the character of a
remarkably well-informed man--the entire interest and attention of the
formidable Mrs. Lecount.
Having taken his dose of ready-made science (to use his own expression)
the first thing in the morning on an empty stomach, Captain Wragge
joined his small family circle at breakfast-time, inflated with
information for the day. He observed that Magdalen's face showed plain
signs of a sleepless night. She made no complaint: her manner was
composed, and her temper perfectly under control. Mrs. Wragge--refreshed
by some thirteen consecutive hours of uninterrupted repose--was in
excellent spirits, and up at heel (for a wonder) with both shoes. She
brought with her into the room several large sheets of tissue-paper,
cut crisply into mysterious and many-varying forms, which immediately
provoked from her husband the short and sharp question, "What have you
got there?"
"Patterns, captain," said Mrs. Wragge, in timidly conciliating tones. "I
went shopping in London, and bought an Oriental Cashmere Robe. It cost a
deal of money; and I'm going to try and save, by making it myself. I've
got my patterns, and my dress-making directions written out as plain as
print. I'll be very tidy, captain; I'll keep in my own corner, if you'll
please to give me one; and whether my head Buzzes, or whether it don't,
I'll sit straight at my work all the same."
"You will do your work," said the captain, sternly, "when you know who
you are, who I am, and who that young lady is--not before. Show me your
shoes! Good. Show me you cap! Good. Make the breakfast."
When breakfast was over, Mrs. Wragge received her orders to retire into
an adjoining room, and to wait there until her husband came to release
her. As soon as her back was turned, Captain Wragge at once resumed the
conversation which had been suspended, by Magdalen's own desire, on
the preceding night. The questions he now put to her all related to the
subject of her visit in disguise to Noel Vanstone's house. They were
the questions of a thoroughly clear-headed man--short, searching, and
straight to the point. In less than half an hour's time he had made
himself acquainted with every incident that had happened in Vauxhall
Walk.
The conclusions which the captain drew, after gaining his information,
were clear and easily stated.
On the adverse side of the question, he expressed his conviction that
Mrs. Lecount had certainly detected her visitor to be disguised; that
she had never really left the room, though she might have opened and
shut the door; and that on both the occasions, therefore, when Magdalen
had been betrayed into speaking in her own voice, Mrs. Lecount had heard
her. On the favorable side of the question, he was perfectly satisfied
that the painted face and eyelids, the wig, and the padded cloak had
so effectually concealed Magdalen's identity, that she might in her own
person defy the housekeeper's closest scrutiny, so far as the matter
of appearance was concerned. The difficulty of deceiving Mrs. Lecount's
ears, as well as her eyes, was, he readily admitted, not so easily to
be disposed of. But looking to the fact that Magdalen, on both the
occasions when she had forgotten herself, had spoken in the heat of
anger, he was of opinion that her voice had every reasonable chance of
escaping detection, if she carefully avoided all outbursts of temper for
the future, and spoke in those more composed and ordinary tones which
Mrs. Lecount had not yet heard. Upon the whole, the captain was inclined
to pronounce the prospect hopeful, if one serious obstacle were cleared
away at the outset--that obstacle being nothing less than the presence
on the scene of action of Mrs. Wragge.
To Magdalen's surprise, when the course of her narrative brought her to
the story of the ghost, Captain Wragge listened with the air of a man
who was more annoyed than amused by what he heard. When she had done,
he plainly told her that her unlucky meeting on the stairs of the
lodging-house with Mrs. Wragge was, in his opinion, the most serious of
all the accidents that had happened in Vauxhall Walk.
"I can deal with the difficulty of my wife's stupidity," he said, "as
I have often dealt with it before. I can hammer her new identity _into_
her head, but I can't hammer the ghost _out_ of it. We have no security
that the woman in the gray cloak and poke bonnet may not come back to
her recollection at the most critical time, and under the most awkward
circumstances. In plain English, my dear girl, Mrs. Wragge is a pitfall
under our feet at every step we take."
"If we are aware of the pitfall," said Magdalen, "we can take our
measures for avoiding it. What do you propose?"
"I propose," replied the captain, "the temporary removal of Mrs. Wragge.
Speaking purely in a pecuniary point of view, I can't afford a total
separation from her. You have often read of very poor people being
suddenly enriched by legacies reaching them from remote and unexpected
quarters? Mrs. Wragge's case, when I married her, was one of these. An
elderly female relative shared the favors of fortune on that occasion
with my wife; and if I only keep up domestic appearances, I happen to
know that Mrs. Wragge will prove a second time profitable to me on that
elderly relative's death. But for this circumstance, I should probably
long since have transferred my wife to the care of society at large--in
the agreeable conviction that if I didn't support her, somebody else
would. Although I can't afford to take this course, I see no objection
to having her comfortably boarded and lodged out of our way for the
time being--say, at a retired farm-house, in the character of a lady in
infirm mental health. _You_ would find the expense trifling; _I_ should
find the relief unutterable. What do you say? Shall I pack her up at
once, and take her away by the next coach?"
"No!" replied Magdalen, firmly. "The poor creature's life is hard enough
already; I won't help to make it harder. She was affectionately and
truly kind to me when I was ill, and I won't allow her to be shut up
among strangers while I can help it. The risk of keeping her here is
only one risk more. I will face it, Captain Wragge, if you won't."
"Think twice," said the captain, gravely, "before you decide on keeping
Mrs. Wragge."
"Once is enough," rejoined Magdalen. "I won't have her sent away."
"Very good," said the captain, resignedly. "I never interfere with
questions of sentiment. But I have a word to say on my own behalf. If
my services are to be of any use to you, I can't have my hands tied
at starting. This is serious. I won't trust my wife and Mrs. Lecount
together. I'm afraid, if you're not, and I make it a condition that,
if Mrs. Wragge stops here, she keeps her room. If you think her health
requires it, you can take her for a walk early in the morning, or late
in the evening; but you must never trust her out with the servant, and
never trust her out by herself. I put the matter plainly, it is too
important to be trifled with. What do you say--yes or no?"
"I say yes," replied Magdalen, after a moment's consideration. "On the
understanding that I am to take her out walking, as you propose."
Captain Wragge bowed, and recovered his suavity of manner. "What are our
plans?" he inquired. "Shall we start our enterprise this afternoon? Are
you ready for your introduction to Mrs. Lecount and her master?"
"Quite ready."
"Good again. We will meet them on the Parade, at their usual hour for
going out--two o'clock. It is no t twelve yet. I have two hours before
me--just time enough to fit my wife into her new Skin. The process is
absolutely necessary, to prevent her compromising us with the servant.
Don't be afraid about the results; Mrs. Wragge has had a copious
selection of assumed names hammered into her head in the course of
her matrimonial career. It is merely a question of hammering hard
enough--nothing more. I think we have settled everything now. Is there
anything I can do before two o'clock? Have you any employment for the
morning?"
"No," said Magdalen. "I shall go back to my own room, and try to rest."
"You had a disturbed night, I am afraid?" said the captain, politely
opening the door for her.
"I fell asleep once or twice," she answered, carelessly. "I suppose my
nerves are a little shaken. The bold black eyes of that man who stared
so rudely at me yesterday evening seemed to be looking at me again in
my dreams. If we see him to-day, and if he annoys me any more, I must
trouble you to speak to him. We will meet here again at two o'clock.
Don't be hard with Mrs. Wragge; teach her what she must learn as
tenderly as you can."
With those words she left him, and went upstairs.
She lay down on her bed with a heavy sigh, and tried to sleep. It was
useless. The dull weariness of herself which now possessed her was not
the weariness which finds its remedy in repose. She rose again and sat
by the window, looking out listlessly over the sea.
A weaker nature than hers would not have felt the shock of Frank's
desertion as she had felt it--as she was feeling it still. A weaker
nature would have found refuge in indignation and comfort in tears. The
passionate strength of Magdalen's love clung desperately to the sinking
wreck of its own delusion-clung, until she tore herself from it, by
plain force of will. All that her native pride, her keen sense of wrong
could do, was to shame her from dwelling on the thoughts which still
caught their breath of life from the undying devotion of the past; which
still perversely ascribed Frank's heartless farewell to any cause but
the inborn baseness of the man who had written it. The woman never lived
yet who could cast a true-love out of her heart because the object of
that love was unworthy of her. All she can do is to struggle against it
in secret--to sink in the contest if she is weak; to win her way through
it if she is strong, by a process of self-laceration which is, of all
moral remedies applied to a woman's nature, the most dangerous and the
most desperate; of all moral changes, the change that is surest to mark
her for life. Magdalen's strong nature had sustained her through the
struggle; and the issue of it had left her what she now was.
After sitting by the window for nearly an hour, her eyes looking
mechanically at the view, her mind empty of all impressions, and
conscious of no thoughts, she shook off the strange waking stupor that
possessed her, and rose to prepare herself for the serious business of
the day.
She went to the wardrobe and took down from the pegs two bright,
delicate muslin dresses, which had been made for summer wear at
Combe-Raven a year since, and which had been of too little value to be
worth selling when she parted with her other possessions. After placing
these dresses side by side on the bed, she looked into the wardrobe once
more. It only contained one other summer dress--the plain alpaca gown
which she had worn during her memorable interview with Noel Vanstone and
Mrs. Lecount. This she left in its place, resolving not to wear it--less
from any dread that the housekeeper might recognize a pattern too quiet
to be noticed, and too common to be remembered, than from the conviction
that it was neither gay enough nor becoming enough for her purpose.
After taking a plain white muslin scarf, a pair of light gray kid
gloves, and a garden-hat of Tuscan straw, from the drawers of the
wardrobe, she locked it, and put the key carefully in her pocket.
Instead of at once proceeding to dress herself, she sat idly looking at
the two muslin gowns; careless which she wore, and yet inconsistently
hesitating which to choose. "What does it matter!" she said to herself,
with a reckless laugh; "I am equally worthless in my own estimation,
whichever I put on." She shuddered, as if the sound of her own laughter
had startled her, and abruptly caught up the dress which lay nearest to
her hand. Its colors were blue and white--the shade of blue which best
suited her fair complexion. She hurriedly put on the gown, without going
near her looking-glass. For the first time in her life she shrank
from meeting the reflection of herself--except for a moment, when
she arranged her hair under her garden-hat, leaving the glass again
immediately. She drew her scarf over her shoulders and fitted on her
gloves, with her back to the toilet-table. "Shall I paint?" she asked
herself, feeling instinctively that she was turning pale. "The rouge
is still left in my box. It can't make my face more false than it is
already." She looked round toward the glass, and again turned away from
it. "No!" she said. "I have Mrs. Lecount to face as well as her master.
No paint." After consulting her watch, she left the room and went
downstairs again. It wanted ten minutes only of two o'clock.
Captain Wragge was waiting for her in the parlor--respectable, in a
frock-coat, a stiff summer cravat, and a high white hat; specklessly
and cheerfully rural, in a buff waistcoat, gray trousers, and gaiters
to match. His collars were higher than ever, and he carried a brand-new
camp-stool in his hand. Any tradesman in England who had seen him at
that moment would have trusted him on the spot.
"Charming!" said the captain, paternally surveying Magdalen when she
entered the room. "So fresh and cool! A little too pale, my dear, and a
great deal too serious. Otherwise perfect. Try if you can smile."
"When the time comes for smiling," said Magdalen, bitterly, "trust my
dramatic training for any change of face that may be necessary. Where is
Mrs. Wragge?"
"Mrs. Wragge has learned her lesson," replied the captain, "and is
rewarded by my permission to sit at work in her own room. I sanction
her new fancy for dressmaking, because it is sure to absorb all her
attention, and to keep her at home. There is no fear of her finishing
the Oriental Robe in a hurry, for there is no mistake in the process of
making it which she is not certain to commit. She will sit incubating
her gown--pardon the expression--like a hen over an addled egg. I assure
you, her new whim relieves me. Nothing could be more convenient, under
existing circumstances."
He strutted away to the window, looked out, and beckoned to Magdalen to
join him. "There they are!" he said, and pointed to the Parade.
Noel Vanstone slowly walked by, as she looked, dressed in a complete
suit of old-fashioned nankeen. It was apparently one of the days when
the state of his health was at the worst. He leaned on Mrs. Lecount's
arm, and was protected from the sun by a light umbrella which she held
over him. The housekeeper--dressed to perfection, as usual, in a quiet,
lavender-colored summer gown, a black mantilla, an unassuming straw
bonnet, and a crisp blue veil--escorted her invalid master with the
tenderest attention; sometimes directing his notice respectfully to the
various objects of the sea view; sometimes bending her head in graceful
acknowledgment of the courtesy of passing strangers on the Parade, who
stepped aside to let the invalid pass by. She produced a visible effect
among the idlers on the beach. They looked after her with unanimous
interest, and exchanged confidential nods of approval which said, as
plainly as words could have expressed it, "A very domestic person! a
truly superior woman!"
Captain Wragge's party-colored eyes followed Mrs. Lecount with a steady,
distrustful attention. "Tough work for us _there_," he whispered in
Magdalen's ear; "tougher work than you think, before we turn that woman
out of her place."
"Wait," said Magdalen, quietly. "Wait and see."
She walked to the door. The captain followed her without making
any further remark. "I'll wait till you're married," he thought to
himself--"not a moment longer, offer me what you may."
At the h ouse door Magdalen addressed him again.
"We will go that way," she said, pointing southward, "then turn, and
meet them as they come back."
Captain Wragge signified his approval of the arrangement, and followed
Magdalen to the garden gate. As she opened it to pass through, her
attention was attracted by a lady, with a nursery-maid and two little
boys behind her, loitering on the path outside the garden wall. The lady
started, looked eagerly, and smiled to herself as Magdalen came out.
Curiosity had got the better of Kirke's sister, and she had come to
Aldborough for the express purpose of seeing Miss Bygrave.
Something in the shape of the lady's face, something in the expression
of her dark eyes, reminded Magdalen of the merchant-captain whose
uncontrolled admiration had annoyed her on the previous evening. She
instantly returned the stranger's scrutiny by a frowning, ungracious
look. The lady colored, paid the look back with interest, and slowly
walked on.
"A hard, bold, bad girl," thought Kirke's sister. "What could Robert be
thinking of to admire her? I am almost glad he is gone. I hope and trust
he will never set eyes on Miss Bygrave again."
"What boors the people are here!" said Magdalen to Captain Wragge. "That
woman was even ruder than the man last night. She is like him in the
face. I wonder who she is?"
"I'll find out directly," said the captain. "We can't be too cautious
about strangers." He at once appealed to his friends, the boatmen.
They were close at hand, and Magdalen heard the questions and answers
plainly.
"How are you all this morning?" said Captain Wragge, in his easy jocular
way. "And how's the wind? Nor'-west and by west, is it? Very good. Who
is that lady?"
"That's Mrs. Strickland, sir."
"Ay! ay! The clergyman's wife and the captain's sister. Where's the
captain to-day?"
"On his way to London, I should think, sir. His ship sails for China at
the end of the week."
China! As that one word passed the man's lips, a pang of the old sorrow
struck Magdalen to the heart. Stranger as he was, she began to hate the
bare mention of the merchant-captain's name. He had troubled her dreams
of the past night; and now, when she was most desperately and recklessly
bent on forgetting her old home-existence, he had been indirectly the
cause of recalling her mind to Frank.
"Come!" she said, angrily, to her companion. "What do we care about the
man or his ship? Come away."
"By all means," said Captain Wragge. "As long as we don't find friends
of the Bygraves, what do we care about anybody?"
They walked on southward for ten minutes or more, then turned and walked
back again to meet Noel Vanstone and Mrs. Lecount.