A Woman's Burden: A Novel

"And how is the doctor, Hilda, and your mother?" asked Miriam.

"Oh, they are pretty well, thank you – they are better off now, of course, and the children are at school. But the house is much the same, dirty as ever. Sometimes when I drive round to see them, I wonder how I ever managed to support existence in that poky place. I hate small rooms, don't you?"

Miriam did not reply.

"And Mrs. Darrow – how is she?" was all she said.

"Oh, I believe much the same. I don't see much of her, you know. In fact, I was obliged to give her clearly to understand that I was mistress in my own house. As a result she has no great love for me, you may imagine. However, she keeps out of the way, and that's the great thing."

"I wonder she entrusted Dicky to you!"

"Oh, she knew Dicky would be all right; besides, the arrangement was that my husband was to bring him up to see Dr. Briggs. She didn't know anything about my coming. I expect when she hears he's been with me, there'll be a nice old row. However, I don't care. Nothing can make me dislike the woman more than I do. I think she's the most detestable – "

"Hush, Hilda, the boy will hear you! Run along, Dicky, and have a prowl round the house."

"But this is a flat, Miss Crane, isn't it, not a house?" said Dicky dubiously.

"Well then, the flat, dear, since you are so particular."

He looked terribly fragile Miriam thought. And the flush on his cheek and the bright light in his eyes indicated only too surely the road upon which he was travelling.

"May I go into all the rooms, Miss Crane? – even into the kitchen?"

"Yes, dear, anywhere you like – we have no blue-beard's chamber here."

"I suppose you are very happy," continued Miriam, taking in the various details of Hilda's splendour.

"Yes, I suppose so. As happy as I can hope to be. He gives me everything I want. But I wish he would leave the Army altogether. For most of this year we have been living in a horrible little garrison town, and the society there consisted solely of the wives and relations of the other officers. They were all so jealous of me that it really was quite unpleasant."

"I suppose you would rather live at Lesser Thorpe altogether?"

"No, I hate Lesser Thorpe. I want to live in London, and go abroad, with now and then a week or two in Scotland."

"In fact, you like a regular society life."

"Well, I suppose you would call it that, yes; at least, I say, when one has the means let one live, not vegetate in some little hole and corner place. Of course John doesn't mind. One place is as good as another to him. I never saw such an extraordinary man; he never seems dull. He'll tramp for miles over the country – dirty, muddy, ploughed fields – and come back as hungry as a hunter, and say how much he has enjoyed himself. I can't stand that dead alive sort of existence. I must have my shops, and I love the theatre, and the ballad concerts, and the heaps of jolly things one can do in London. Don't you?"

"Well, you see," said Miriam, "I haven't quite so much time on my hands as you have. For instance, we cannot afford more than one servant, and that means that there is a good deal for me to do at home, if the house is to be kept as I like it – that reminds me, I must just go and see about tea, if you'll excuse me a few minutes."

Hilda made no attempt to conceal what she felt.

"Really. I think I should kick at that if I were you; it must be awful to have only one servant – in London of all places! Why don't you make your husband do without something? He'd appreciate you all the more."

"I don't think he could appreciate me more – he is everything that is good to me. One must cut one's coat according to one's cloth, you know, and – well, we prefer to do with one servant. Will you just see where Dicky is while I go into the kitchen?"

As she left the room Hilda went in search of Master Dicky, and found him stretched out on the floor of the bedroom. He was very busily occupied with a heap of treasures he had found in an old ivory work-box which Miriam had managed to keep possession of in spite of her many vicissitudes. It was true it had for a few months reposed on the shelf of a pawnbroker in the Strand, to whom she had confided it during that terrible time just before she met with Barton. But it had been the first thing she had redeemed. It was a very old piece of Indian work, wondrously carved, and had always been a favourite of Dicky's at Pine Cottage. The boy welcomed it now as an old playfellow.

"Dicky, whatever are you doing?" exclaimed Hilda, when she saw him. "You'll catch it from Miriam, upsetting her things like that!"

"No, I won't," replied the boy calmly. "She always let me play with this; there's such a funny little place in the lid she used to show me, I can't find it now – ah, here it is, I've got it."

Hilda bent over him curiously. His little fingers had touched a spring, which, when pressed, caused the lining of the lid – a plain sheet of ivory – to fall inwards. As it opened an oblong sheet of bluish paper, folded – a typical legal document – fell out.

"Now, Dicky, see what you've been doing; you've – "

She stopped short, for she had read the writing on the paper: "The Will of George Barton. Dated December the 20th, 189-."

CHAPTER V.

JUST IN TIME

At the sight of those words even Hilda's self-possession forsook her for the moment The will of George Barton, dated December, here, in Miriam's keeping! There was only one conclusion to be arrived at from that. She had stolen it – that she might secure Gerald. As the thought flashed through her mind a great bitterness – a greater hatred for her rival came over Hilda. Dicky, absorbed as he was, saw that something was wrong. His keen little eyes had not failed to read the fateful heading. The word "will" was by no means without meaning for him. How often his mother had spoken of Uncle Barton's will! He had heard her not once, but a score of times. Child as he was, he knew quite well what had happened to deprive Gerald of his inheritance.

Hilda glanced hurriedly, stealthily, through the contents of the deed. "I devise all my real and personal estate to my nephew, Gerald Arkel, absolutely" – those were the words her eye now caught, and they were more than enough. And she was the wife of John Dundas! Why had Fate played her such a sorry trick? – she who had given up so much – had schemed so zealously for the possession of this affluence. It had been her goal through life. She had sacrificed everything to it, only to have it snatched from her now that she had tasted the sweet of it. It was too cruel. What should she do?

Dicky looked up, all innocent inquiry. That look brought her to herself again. At any cost the truth must be kept from him. She smiled and put her hand upon his shoulder.

"Dicky dear," she said in a whisper, "do you know what this is?"

"It's a will, Hilda, isn't it? Mother was always talking about Uncle Barton's will. Is this the one?"

"Yes, dear, this is the one. It's been lost for ever so long, and now that you have found it your dear Miriam will be so rich."

"Oh, how jolly! – I am so pleased, aren't you, Hilda?"

"Yes, dear; and I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll prepare such a surprise for Miriam."

"Oh yes; how, Hilda, how shall we do it?" The little fellow's eyes positively danced with delight.

"Well, first I must talk to Major Dundas about it, because of course he will have to give the money to Miriam's husband. Now, Dicky, whatever you do you must not say a word about it. It must be a great secret. You must promise me that first of all. Very well – "

"But, Hilda, I wonder why Miriam didn't know it was in her box?"

For a moment the woman was at a loss. Then she answered.

"Well, that we don't know, Dicky. Perhaps she hid it there herself and forgot all about it, or perhaps Gerald put it there. That doesn't matter – we've found it, that's the great thing, and it will be such a surprise for both of them."

"Oh yes, Hilda. I won't say a word about it, I promise."

"That's a good boy. Now put away the work-box quickly, just as you found it, and don't tell Miriam even that you were playing with it." She kissed him, and slipped the deed into her dress. Dicky put back the trinkets and replaced the box.

She felt she could rely on the boy's not betraying her, and she congratulated herself on the success of her plan. She could hear Miriam in the drawing-room now. Hurriedly she picked up a copy of the Strand Magazine which Dicky had been looking at and gave it to him.

"We must go to tea, Dicky. Come along, bring your book with you."

At that moment Miriam called.

"That boy's simply crazy about pictures," said Hilda, as she entered the room. "I can't get him away from them." She looked at Dicky hard. He seemed to understand – it was to him all part of a glorious surprise for Miriam. And the element of secrecy appealed to him irresistibly.