"It is one of the sights of the world, Kitty," he had said. "It can do you no harm, and I suppose you are hardly afraid of my being corrupted by it. You ought not to leave without seeing what the place is like."
Kathleen had been brought up to hate everything that savoured of gambling, but her husband insisted, and she accompanied him in fear and trembling. The feeling was increased as she noticed a sort of eager expression on his face, and heard him say, "Try your luck, Kitty, with one gold piece," offering her one as he spoke.
She shrank back as if she had been stung, and said, "Not for the world, John! Take me away."
He laughed at her fears, and placing the coin, together with four others on the table, held her fast by his side until the result was declared.
It was in his favour, and, sweeping up a handful of gold, he said, "I will present my winnings to you, dear. We will go now. I only wanted you to see for once how easily money is lost or won."
Kathleen did not speak, but her face was white to the lips, and as her husband tendered the gold she gave him an indignant look and passed out of the place. She felt ready to faint, yet when he again laughingly tendered the gold, she pushed his hand aside, and gasped out, "I would not touch it for the world!" then broke down and wept.
Mr. Torrance expressed his regret, and said he only meant to give her a novel experience, not to cause pain.
Kathleen was at length coaxed into outward composure, but the painful impression remained. She could not forget the fierce pleasure on her husband's face as he swept up the gold, and had since been haunted by a dread, which other circumstances had intensified during their stay in town.
"What if the old Mountford estates should be squandered through my unlimited trust in John!" she thought. "The 'slip of a girl,' as my father called me, was entrusted with all of which he was so proud. And I meant to hold them safely, yet have placed them in John's power, though he owned he could not trust himself. Alas! he spoke the truth."
Ralph came to London, expecting to be all in all with his new mother, and did not find sight-seeing, under the convoy of Sarah and a man-servant, altogether satisfactory. Kathleen did her best, and cheered him by saying—
"It will be different at Hollingsby."
She was glad the town-house must be vacated at the time first agreed on, as it was again let to new tenants.
Mr. Torrance was not sorry to turn his back on town. Old associates had found him out, and, though they never entered the home that held Kathleen, they managed to lighten his purse of some of the gold poured into it by her too generous hands.
Such was the beginning of a married life, entered on despite the wise warnings of earthly friends, and without seeking the guidance of the best Friend of all.
CHAPTER XX DISILLUSIONED
AT Hollingsby Kathleen recovered her spirits, and to the dear friends, the sight of whose faces was indescribably welcome to her, she seemed her old bright self.
"Here," she thought, "John will be out of the way of temptation, and we shall be really happy. I must forget the little things which frightened me. I had been brought up so quietly, I could hardly judge for a man thirteen years my senior, and who knows so much of the gay world. It is not likely we should see eye to eye on such matters. After all, the world's opinions differ from those instilled into me. It calls many things 'mere trifles,' yet my conscience condemns them. I have had enough of it already."
Kathleen longed to resume her old mode of life, only with its usefulness enlarged, and its responsibilities deepened by a sense of the new obligations on which she had entered. Her husband, however, resumed his old habits also. Kathleen might rusticate to her heart's content, whilst he often "ran up to town" alone. If she complained, his absences became more frequent, and her deep affection proved a weapon for her punishment, because she desired his presence, and had hoped so much from association in their aims and pursuits at home.
She was ready to concede much, but she could not forget that she had given him everything, as well as her love, asking only for affection in return. Without this, she would be poor indeed.
When the time came, she had to consent to a second season in town, though she dreaded the cost, owing to Mr. Torrance's extravagant estimate as to what must be expended.
Ralph was at school. He had proved exacting and unmanageable during his father's absences.
"I knew long ago that he was a self-willed young rascal," said Mr. Torrance, with a laugh. "You tamed him for a time, but, though he loves you better than any one, he wants a stronger hand than yours, and adviser head than mine to keep him in his place. I have asked Matheson to find a school for him. He knows more of such places than I do."
This Aylmer did, and bestowed much kindly oversight on Ralph, for which, in his careless fashion, the father was grateful. Indeed, John Torrance recognized the nobility and unselfishness of Aylmer's character, and the latter found himself in the position of adviser to both husband and wife.
Torrance listened, but rarely acted on his counsel. Kathleen learned, with a feeling of humiliation, how much better it was to appeal to her old guardian than to her husband, whose only reply to a question would be, "Ask Matheson. We are in luck, Kitty, to have such a mentor. He was a victim to your charms, I know, but I cannot be jealous of him. He acts the good brother now, and will be an ideal rich uncle."
A careless laugh and look of self-satisfaction accompanied the words, for John Torrance, whilst paying this compliment, felt a contempt for what he called "Matheson's weak side as Kitty's guardian."
Kathleen had been three years married when her first baby-boy was born. He was called Kenneth Mountford, after her father, and was a beautiful child, much like herself.
"He has your eyes, Kitty," said Mr. Torrance, kissing her. "I am glad. One son like me is quite enough."
"Ralph will be pleased with the little darling," said Kathleen.
"Do not count on that. He is horribly jealous, and may show his unpleasant side. Remember how exacting he used to be."
"That was different. He must love his little brother," and Kathleen pressed her treasure to her breast with a new sense of riches, and the thought, "What a new, sweet bond our baby will be between John and me! Home will have more attraction for him now."
The result was not quite equal to her hopes.
"I can't get wildly enthusiastic about a youngster in the early stages of his existence," said John. "When he can trot about and back a pony, he will be more in my line. He is a dear little thing, of course; how could your son be anything else, Kitty? But he is your first baby, not my first son, and my memories of the troubles incidental to teething, and the ailments to which infant flesh is heir, are none of the sweetest. I was almost jealous of Ralph for absorbing his mother's attention."
The careless words pained the young wife, and tears fell on her baby's cheeks as she said, "He is our first boy, John."
"Of course, darling, and quite the most charming infant ever seen," he replied gaily.
Then he kissed her again, and said she would be better without him for awhile, and that she must not excite herself the least bit, but get strong soon, for he could not do without her society.
Kathleen thought sadly that he managed to do without it very often, and appeared well contented to go his own way. But she resolved that even her new sweet cares should be made as subservient as possible to the claims of her husband. She would watch over her baby, but John should have no cause to complain of neglect.
Mr. Torrance's predictions about Ralph proved only too true. The boy regarded his baby brother as an intruder, and towards Kathleen he was by turns loving as of old, and angry when, as unavoidably happened, she was unable to give him all the attention he wished. It was a relief when the holidays were over and Ralph back at school.
To Mrs. Ellicott and Geraldine the little one was a source of immense interest. All that the most loving mother and sister could have done they did, and their near neighbourhood was the greatest possible comfort to Kathleen.
"We shall be granny and maiden aunt to your boy, Kitty," said Geraldine. "What a pleasure it is that when real kindred are few and far-away, we can be adopted into new relationships!"
"I have always counted on having aunty as 'granny' to my boy, but I don't want you to be the maiden aunt, dear Ger," said Kathleen. "I always hope—"
"Hush, Kitty! There is room neither for hope nor fear. I have chosen my role, I shall never change it."
Kathleen durst say no more. Yet she had hoped and longed that her cousin might make up to Aylmer for the disappointment she had caused him. Each, however, seemed to find happiness in a life of unostentatious good-doing, and, in Geraldine's case, in filial duty also.
Kathleen knew no more than others did, that Aylmer had lately asked Geraldine to be his wife.
He had always been profoundly impressed by the beauty of her character, and since his great love for Kathleen had been all in vain, he had begun to ask himself, if esteem might not be a sufficiently firm foundation on which to build his hope of wedded happiness.
To Geraldine Aylmer's offer was at once a temptation and a trial. Her heart was his, and yet when he asked her to share his lot she refused his offer.
"I am too romantic, too much of a woman to marry on your terms, Aylmer," she replied to his honest confession, for he had told her all the truth.
"Still, dear Geraldine, with such a foundation, and the certainty that our hopes, aims, and labours would be in perfect accord, might we not reasonably expect more than the average amount of happiness?"
"Perhaps so, but not the highest and best of all. Not the kind that God's laws have ordained as the condition of a perfect union. I could not be satisfied for you to have anything less than the best that is possible, and you would not have this ideal union, as the husband of one whom you regard only as a dear friend. I know you feel respect and a kind of affection for me, but the inner sanctuary of your heart is barred against me and all the world beside."
"But if I can make you happy, and you can give me—" Aylmer began.
A crimson flush overspread Geraldine's face as she pleaded, "Please do not go on. Surely, in such a case, a man should not ask more than he can give, and a woman ought to refuse anything less than an equivalent for what she bestows."
Then, as if realizing the implied confession she had made, Geraldine covered her face with her hands to hide tears of mingled pain and humiliation.
"Forgive me that I have offered you less than the best, dear Ger," said Aylmer. "Be my friend still. In friendship we shall owe each other nothing."
"Friends now and always, Aylmer," replied Ger, looking bravely up and extending her hand.
He took it almost reverently, lifted it to his lips, and then left her. He felt that her decision was the only one possible to such a nature, and was never so near loving Geraldine as at the moment after she had refused to be his wife.
After the birth of Kathleen's boy, Aylmer could not help recalling to mind the fact that owing to the deed by which she had persisted in conveying the freehold to her husband, Ralph would inherit the Mountford estate as well as an equal share of personalty with the younger child, in case John Torrance died intestate.
"I will speak to Kathleen first, then to Torrance if necessary," said Aylmer. "If he has not made a will, he ought to be reminded of the need for so doing."
Aylmer again spoke of the position to Kathleen, and asked if Mr. Torrance had named the subject.
"John seldom speaks of business matters. Surely you do not mean that my little darling, my own boy, would not inherit this place—my home—and the lands that were my father's?" asked Kathleen. "I remember aunt spoke to me about this, but I never realized it until now. I ought to have been guided by wiser heads than my own."
"That depends on your husband, Kathleen. He ought to insure the inheritance to your child, whilst making some provision for Ralph. You would not object to this?"
"It is what I should wish," said Kathleen, "though Ralph would be safe in my hands. Aylmer, I ought to have listened to your advice. I was proud to trust John with everything. I never looked beyond myself, but thought I alone could suffer if he went wrong, and I should die of grief. Now I do not love John less, but there is my own baby-boy to think of. Besides, my father trusted me. I have indeed done wrong."
"You must make the best amends possible. Put everything before your husband. He must see what he ought to do."
Kathleen hesitated to ask Aylmer to undertake this task. She was staying, with her child, at Monk's How, Mr. Torrance having gone to town, "just to see a few fresh faces."
"Will you remind John of my boy's rights, and explain the position?" she said to Aylmer. "Having been my guardian, it would seem natural for you to do it. It would be dreadful for me to appear as if I were calculating on what would happen if he died. Ralph is so jealous of baby that he is not to be trusted now. This is a great trial."
"It is; but I believe Ralph will yet reward you," replied Aylmer. "For the rest, I will speak to Torrance."
Kathleen's mind was greatly relieved by this promise, and never doubted that good would come of Aylmer's intervention.
John Torrance returned two days later, not in the best of humours, though he said nothing to account for his gloomy manner.
"Have you not enjoyed the change, John?" asked Kathleen.
"Town is as dull as Hollingsby," was the ungracious reply.
Aylmer drew his own conclusions from Mr. Torrance's answer. He had cause to fear that old associates and habits had regained their influence over Kathleen's husband. With ruin confronting him, it had been easy to make good resolutions, and old associates could gain nothing by seeking him. Now that John Torrance's pockets had been refilled, he was again surrounded by them. Not that he would have insulted Kathleen by bringing these men to Hollingsby, or even naming them to her; so he met them in town, as the lesser evil.
