Chapter XLIX. An Offer of Marriage.

Fairweather, Paget, and Miss Wilks were at breakfast when Philiberta entered—Fairweather brisk, ruddy, and shining, as he always was (there was never a man more fitly named than page 317this one); Miss Wilks looking like one who has a grievance, but is charitably resolved not to afflict others with it; Paget with last night's expression of trouble deepened on his face.

Mrs. Paget was not there, as Philiberta noted, with a mingled sensation of relief and disappointment Without effort at analysis, she was conscious that the painful sense of discontent that had brooded over her since last night was in chief measure attributable to the new knowledge she had of Edgar Paget's wife. And out of the feeling arose a new contempt of herself.

'I shall never be content here,' she murmured to herself, even as she approached the breakfast room, and then, when she heard the voice and saw the face that had marred her life, her heart answered that she would never be content anywhere else. 'How shall I bear it? Dear heaven, how shall I bear it?' she said, knowing, and hating herself for knowing, that the hardest thing to bear was the feeling that Edgar Paget's wife was a woman that Edgar Paget might well have loved—might well still love. In all the past she had strangely never realized that; never considered his wife but as a personality of obstructiveness, a something insuperable, a hopelessly permanent impediment that at best could only be tolerated for duty's sake. The real woman, the fair flesh-and-blood vision of last night— a woman soft, refined, and pure-looking, with sweet, appealing mouth and beautiful eyes—had opened up a new world of possibilities, past and future, that taught Philiberta a—to her— novel phase of human suffering. And with all this was a curious morbid craving to look again, to look often, upon that which tortured her. But Mrs. Paget was not in the room.

'Been looking round, Tempest?' said Fairweather, in his cheery, ringing voice.

'A little, Mr. Fairweather. I have not seen much of the station, though. I did not get further than the creek.'

'I hope you'll take it easy for a day or two, Tempest,' said Paget. 'There's nothing special to do just yet. When you get into the ways of the place you will see where your attention is most needed, and what is most required of you.'

'It strikes me you will have finer times here than you had at page 318old Mudgee, my boy,' remarked Mudgee's quondam proprietor.

'You never heard me complain of Mudgee,' answered Philiberta, smiling.

'Mr. Paget, if you do not specially need Mr. Tempest this morning, perhaps he may accompany me as far as the Upper Bend?'said Miss Wilks.

Paget bestowed a meaning glance on Fairweather; Fairweather winked at Philiberta.

'But I don't know where the Upper Bend is,' said the latter hastily, and with a look of appeal towards the host.

'But I do,' said Miss Wilks.

'And you have just beard Paget say that you are your own master for the present, Tempest,' observed Fairweather, mercilessly, spelling on his fingers 'No go' in deaf and dumb alphabet at the same moment.

'I will go and get my hat,' said Miss Wilks, leaving the room trippingly.

'Courage, Tempest,' laughed Paget; 'you have only got to be firm in your refusal, you know.'

'If she attempts brute force to exact a promise,' added Fairweather, 'just sing out. Paget and I will be on the listen, and we won't see you hurt, dear boy. Here she is.'

There was no help for it. Philiberta had to escort Miss Wilks to the Upper Bend, a pretty part of the creek, where a few wattles had been trained into a rough bower, which was furnished with rustic seats and a table carved by deft-fingered Rob.

'Mr. Tempest, what is your opinion of me?' said Miss Wilks, suddenly, when she had beguiled her escort thus far with general small talk.

'Why—really—' stammered Philiberta, 'that is scarcely a fair question.'

'Why not?'

'Why—because—I think candid opinions—if they are ever excusable at all—are only so between friends of long standing.'

'I don't see why that should be, and as a lady commanding a gentleman, I demand your candid opinion of me.'

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'Then you leave me no alternative but rudeness, Miss Wilks. I refuse to give that opinion.'

'But why should you? I, now, have not the slightest hesitation in giving my opinion of you. To begin with, you——'

'Pray don't; I would rather not hear.'

'And why—again why?'

'First, because premature opinions are generally unreliable; second, because candour, in an early stage of acquaintanceship, is always embarrassing. If you spoke flatteringly, I should probably suspect your sincerity. If your candour took the opposite direction——'

'You would consider me rude,' said Miss Wilks. 'Have no fear, Mr. Tempest; my opinion of you could not offend you. I am a very excellent judge of character at first sight, Mr. Tempest, and my impressions are never inaccurate.'

'Indeed—exactly,' said Philiberta, confusedly.

'I am sorry you hate truth, Mr. Tempest.'

'But I do not hate truth, Miss Wilks. I never said so.'

'But you object to outspokenness, which is but a synonym for truth.'

'I do not quite agree. Gratuitous outspokenness is distinct from truth. One may be truthful without blurting out unpleasant truths, you know. Truth need not be obtrusive or personal, I think.'

'Mr. Tempest,' said Miss Wilks, 'your remarks contain an innuendo. They imply that I am unpleasant.'

'Miss Wilks, that is absurd. Such an implication was never intended.'

'We are wasting time and words, my friend,' said the lady. 'I came out with you to-day on a mission bent, Mr. Tempest.'

'Indeed?' said Philiberta; and then she looked out at the sky and remarked suggestively that it looked like rain in the south-east.

'I dare say, but atmospheric phenomena are entirely irrelevant to the subject now in my mind, Mr. Tempest Mr. Tempest, a blessed vision has been vouchsafed to me of the man I am ordained to marry.'

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'Dear me! Indeed!' stammered Philiberta confusedly, large drops of perspiration starting to her brow. 'I—I sincerely congratulate you, Miss Wilks.'

'And yourself also, Mr. Tempest, for in language that is sacred I say, "Thou art the man,"'

'Really, madam, I——'

'What need of words between us, dear friend? I understand all that you would say. My years and position, Mr. Tempest, entitle me to take the initiative in this momentous matter. I will make you as happy, dear, as Mahomet's first wife made him. I will be to you the devoted being that De Stael was to her young husband. If you will go with me to Eominda tomorrow, our nuptials may be solemnised without delay.'

'Miss Wilks, let me speak,' cried poor Philiberta. 'This thing is impossible, utterly and entirely impossible.'

'I have money, Mr. Tempest.'

'I dare say, but that makes no difference. Nothing can make any difference.'

'Do I understand you to say that you refuse me, Mr. Tempest?'

'If I thought you were in earnest in so absurd an affair, I should have to say that I refuse most distinctly, Miss Wilks. But I feel that you were only jesting, and we will treat the matter accordingly, and forget it.'

'In ancient times, Mr. Tempest,' said Miss Wilks, solemnly, 'an insult like this could not have been put upon a lady with impunity. Some noble knight would have come forth to avenge my wrong in blood—blood drawn by cold steel from your heart. Even in these days blood is sometimes demanded in redress of such an affront, but though it may still come from the heart, it is drawn from the nose. But I am friendless and an orphan'—she was forty-five years old, too—'there is none to take my part Will you conduct me back to the homestead, please?'

'I shall be delighted,' said Philiberta, with alacrity.

'Another has refused to join the army,' cried Miss Wilks, turning her eyes to the sky and addressing no one in particular. 'Another has refused, and chosen outer darkness. The consequences be upon their own heads.'

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On the way home she stopped suddenly, and drew a small flask from her pocket.

'I always carry this,' she said, unscrewing the tiny cup that covered the stopper. 'Mr. Tempest, you have refused to become an heir of grace through my ministration; do you also refuse to drink with me?'

Philiberta eyed the cup dubiously.

'It is Hennessy's best,' said Miss Wilks, plaintively. 'It is not poison. I am not a Borgia.'

'Oh, if it is brandy, I must decline, thanks,' said Philiberta. 'I do not like brandy.'

Miss Wilks filled and drained the small cup twice. Philiberta thought of the conversation between Edgar Paget and Janet last night.

'My system requires it,' remarked Miss Wilks, screwing up her flask. 'I feel unwell if I do not have it regularly.'

When they were within sight of the homestead she stopped again.

'Mr. Tempest, you are a gentleman, I presume.'

'I beg pardon,' said Philiberta, her heart leaping with sudden new alarm.

'And a gentleman,' continued Miss Wilks, 'never violates a lady's confidence; never repeats anything he thinks the lady might desire to keep from unsympathetic ears.'

'If you mean what has passed between us,' said Philiberta, feeling relieved, 'you may rely upon my treating it as if it had never happened.'

'Thanks, Mr. Tempest. Now we understand each other.'

Mr. Fairweather was disappointed in his ambition of teasing Tempest, for Miss Wilks gave him no opportunity. She adhered to him all that afternoon with the persistence of a—well—he said, vulgarly—a sheep tick.

She forced him to listen to her music. She banged and thumped the piano; made discords and corrected them; dashed up and down in wild runs and flourishes until she lost her tune, then hurried and scurried all over the key-board until she found it again, or, rather, a crippled remnant of it, which page 322she proceeded to massacre with a series of crashing, earsplitting, inharmonious chords.

'Pray sing something, Miss Wilks; pray sing something!' shouted Fairweather, recklessly endeavouring to escape this agony, even at the hazard of incurring a worse.

'Ahem!' said Miss Wilks, clearing her throat. 'I rather fear that I have caught a cold to-day, and should spoil any song I attempted.'

'Not a doubt about the spoiling,' groaned poor Fairweather. Aloud he said: 'Then pray don't trouble about it, Miss Wilks.'

'Oh, I should like to oblige you, Mr. Fairweather. It is woman's mission to please and entertain, and we are but poor selfish creatures when we do not try to fulfil it.'

'Heaven help me!' cried Fairweather piteously.

And then Miss Wilks sank, and her hearers writhed. Philiberta escaped to the veranda.

'My dear Miss Wilks,' exclaimed Fairweather, at the end of the first long verse, 'you really must stop. You will ruin your vocal what's-his-names totally if you attempt any more with that serious cold.'

'Excuse me, sir,' said Miss Wilks, firmly, 'it is a principle of my life never to leave unfinished anything I have once commenced. There are five verses in this ballad.'

So there were, and the two last lines of each to be repeated; and she went through all calmly to the bitter end. Then she offered to read some extracts she had written from her favourite authors.

'I wish I was dead,' said Fairweather.

'If this is the way you treat your guests—leaving them to the tender mercies of a lunatic like that——' he began indignantly to Paget at the first opportunity.

'I am sorry for having neglected you, Fairweather,' said Paget, who had been invisible since lunch, 'but Mrs. Paget is not well, and I could not leave her sooner.'

'Oh, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?'

'No, nothing. It is a relapse of an old complaint,' said Paget, an expression of bitterness crossing his face.

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'Perhaps I'd better be off,' said Fairweather. 'Visitors are only a nuisance when there's illness in the house. I'll go.'

'Not at all,' cried his host hastily. 'I beg you not to think of going, Fairweather. It is not so serious as that, though I have had to neglect you so shamefully to-day. I'll make up for it tomorrow, and we'll have a few hours' shooting along the creek and round the lagoon. I should be vexed if you were to curtail your visit.'

The words were hospitable enough, but the tone was constrained; and Fairweather made up his mind that his stay should be a short one; he was not enjoying himself as he had anticipated. Paget had something unpleasant on his mind, that was clear. A pitiful exposure of that unpleasantness took place at dinner. Philiberta, sitting nearest the door, and sideways towards it, was the first to see it pushed noiselessly open, and a strange white figure enter in a furtive, almost crouching manner. Before the shock and chill of fear could pass and allow her speech, Paget saw also and sprang to his feet.

'Florence!' he exclaimed hoarsely.

'What the devil is it?' cried Fairweather, jumping up and getting behind his chair in alarm.

'It is meet that the dogs should come in for the crumbs that fall from their master's table,' said Mrs. Paget, with her beautiful awfully metamorphosed face upturned to her husband.

She was in her night-robe, her long black hair dishevelled and sweeping the floor as she crept into the room. Her great dark eyes had forgotten their mournfulness and were full of a devilish light; her cheeks wore each a crimson spot; her lips were livid and set in a smile that showed all the pearly-white teeth within, but which had nothing of mirth or beauty about it.

'Don't touch me, Edgar!' she cried, raising her head erect with sudden swiftness and waving him off. 'I have come for some brandy, and I won't go away without it.'

'Come with me to your room, Florence, and I will give you as much as you want.'

'Oh no! Do you think I am no wiser than that, after all these years? She laughed a musical gurgling little laugh, and page 324clasped her pretty fingers above her eyes, peering out at him from under in a fashion weirdly fascinating.

'You will give it to me now, Edgar, else——' here her mien altered, and a tigrish look came over her, 'else you will have to get everything new for this room at least Will you give me some brandy? I do not often have such a chance over you as this, Edgar, do I? Will you give me some brandy—quick, please?' Her voice rang as clearly and as sweetly as a silver bell. Every syllable of her speech was uttered with measured distinctness.

Suppressing a groan, Paget lifted a decanter from the sidetable, filled a wineglass to the brim with brandy, and tendered it to her. She was now leaning with her back to the wall; she took the glass, carried it steadily to her smiling lips, and drained it at a draught.

'More!' she said; and Paget refilled it 'More!' she repeated, holding it empty to him again.

'No, not here,' said Paget, resolutely. 'If you will end this exhibition and go quietly to your room, I will bring you the decanter.'

'In that case I will go,' she answered gaily, and she put one White hand on his sleeve. Then withdrawing it suddenly, she made a quick clutch at the decanter. But Paget thwarted her, and held it high out of her reach.

'You will obey me,' he said sternly, 'else I shall have to force you to it.'

'Oh, I am not afraid of that,' she laughed. 'But I will go quietly, since you are so anxious to get me out of sight. But keep your word about the brandy, Edgar; I can't go without that Where is Miss Wilks?'

Miss Wilks was there at the table, looking on with frightened eyes and wide-open mouth.

'Ah, there she is!' said Mrs. Paget, pointing with one forefinger. 'What a hideous old cat she is—with those teeth! If it were not that I am so deeply indebted to her for bringing me what I wanted, I would spring on her now and tear her to shreds. Oh, how I should like to do it!'—Miss Wilks shrieked.

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'Florence!' said Edgar Paget, grasping her savagely, 'unless you come away now, and quietly, I will throw this decanter out of the window, and kill you where you stand!'

'And why not where I stand as well as anywhere else?' she answered, laughing again that musical gurgle. 'No need to be particular about the place, you know, if you want to kill me. But it would be a thousand pities to waste that brandy by throwing it out of the window, while such a thirsty soul as mine is gasping for it, so I will go now, and quietly. Good-night, Miss Wilks; good-night, you cat Next time you bring me brandy, after Edgar has kept me sober for a whole year, I shall make you swallow those false teeth of yours, by way of showing my gratitude. You may lead me, Edgar.'

Philiberta turned away her eyes now. The horrible fascination of the lovely face held her no longer, and she could not bear to witness Edgar Paget's humiliation as he walked from the room with that burden on his arm. And, unable to endure what Fairweather might say, she fled by another passage to her own room, and locked herself in.