Wild Heather

"Of course, dear, she will be only your stepmother."

"Whom do you mean?" I asked. "Please say it out quickly. Is father going to marry? No, it can't be – it shan't be! What is it, please, Lady Carrington – please say it quickly?"

"For many reasons I am sorry, Heather, but we must make the best of things in this world, dear, not the worst. Your father is to be married on Monday next to Lady Helen Dalrymple."

I sat perfectly still after she had spoken. Her news came on me like a mighty shock – I felt quite stunned and cold. At first, too, I did not realise any pain. Then, quickly, and, as it seemed to me, through every avenue in my body at the same moment, pain rushed in – it filled my heart almost to the bursting point. It turned sweetness into bitterness and sunshine into despair. Father! Father! Father! Had I not waited for him, all during the long years? And now!

I felt so distracted that I could not keep still. I stood up and faced Lady Carrington; she put out her hand to touch me – I pushed her hand away. I began to pace up and down the floor. After a few minutes Lady Carrington followed me. Then I turned to her, almost like a little savage. I said:

"Is there anywhere in this big, grand, horrid house where I can be quite alone?"

"Yes, Heather, you shall be quite alone in my bedroom," said Lady Carrington.

I had no manners at that moment, no sense of civility.

"I know the way to your bedroom," I said. I dashed upstairs without waiting for her to lead me; I rushed into the room, I turned the key in the lock, and then I flung myself on the floor. I was alone, thank God for that! How I beat out my own terrible suffering, how I fought and fought and fought with the demon who rent me, I can never describe to any mortal. No tears came to my relief. After a time I sat up. I had so far recovered my self-possession that I could at least remain quiet. I went stealthily towards the big looking-glass; I saw my reflection in it, my little pale face, my dark hair in its orderly curls – those curls which even my tempest of grief could scarcely disarrange, my neat, snuff-coloured brown dress – so old-fashioned and therefore none so beloved. That morning I had gone shopping with her– I had allowed her to buy me dresses on dresses, and hats and toques, and muffs, and gloves, and shoes – oh! I would not touch one of her things! I felt at that moment that I could have killed her! To be torn from father, to find him again and then to lose him, that was the crudest stroke of all!

I looked at my wan face in the glass and hoped that I should die soon; that was the only thing left to wish for – to live in such a way that I should die soon. I thought that I might effect this by a course of starvation. I would begin at once. To-day was Thursday – if I ate nothing at all from the present moment until Monday, there was a good chance of my dying on Monday. That would be the best plan.

There came a tap at the room door.

"It is I, dear," said Lady Carrington.

I even hated kind Lady Carrington at that moment. Had she not given me the news? I went unwillingly and slowly towards the door. I unlocked it and she entered.

"That is right," she said, looking at me and suppressing, as she told me afterwards, a shocked exclamation, "you are calmer now, darling."

"I cannot speak of it," I said.

"Dear child, no one wants you to; and I have been arranging with your father that you are to stay with me for the present."

"Oh, I don't want that," I said, a great lump rising in my throat; "I want to be with him while I can have him. There is only between now – this Thursday – until Monday. I'd like to be with him for that little time."

"But you won't, dear Heather. He will be occupied almost entirely with Lady Helen Dalrymple."

"Then it doesn't matter," I said. "Did you say they were downstairs, Lady Carrington?"

"Yes; they are in the drawing-room; they are waiting for you. They asked me to break it to you, and I did my best."

"I am quite ready to – to see them," I said.

When we reached the drawing-room a servant flung open the door. Lady Carrington went first and I followed.

My father was standing with his profile towards me; he was looking at a newspaper, and I think, just for a second, he was rather shy, although I could not be sure. Lady Helen, however, made up for any awkwardness on his part. She rushed at me and clasped me in her arms.

"Dear little daughter!" she said. "Now you know everything; in future you will be my own little daughter. Think what a splendid time we'll have together! Why, I'll take you everywhere – you won't know yourself. Just tell her, Gordon, what a right good time she'll have with me."

"Jove! I should think so," said my father.

I struggled out of her arms. If I had remained in that hateful embrace for another moment I might have slapped her. I flung myself on father's neck, and kissed him many times, and then, all of a sudden, I began to whisper in his ear.

"Eh, eh? What, what?" he said. "Child, you're tickling me. Oh, you want to speak to me alone! Helen, you won't mind?"

"No, dear, I won't mind."

Lady Helen looked at me out of those strange dark eyes of hers. Her face was brimming all over with good humour, but I know she was not pleased with me at that moment. I had repulsed her advances, and now I was taking father away.

"Here is a little room," said Lady Carrington, "you can both have it to yourselves."

She opened a door, and father and I entered. The moment we were alone I ceased to whisper and stood before father, just a little way off, but at the same time so close that he could see me well.

"I have heard the news, Dad," I said.

"Well, and isn't it just rippin'?" he said. "Don't you congratulate me – I, a poor beggar – to get a wife like that, and you – a mother like that!"

"She will never be my mother, father, if you marry her a hundred times."

"Come, come, that is so bourgeoise, that kind of speech is so completely out of date; but Helen will explain to you. Now, what is it you want, little Heather? I'm sure Helen has spent enough money on your little person to satisfy you for one morning."

"Was it her own money she spent?" I asked.

"Gracious, child!" cried my father. "What other money could she spend?"

"Why, yours – I thought it was yours," I said, with a sob.

"Mine!" he said. "I haven't a stiver in the world to bless myself with. But there, I am a rich man for all that. Helen is rich, and what is hers is mine, and she's going to do the right thing by you, Heather – the right thing by you."

"Daddy," I said, very slowly, "I waited for you during all the years while I was growing up, and yesterday I found you again – or rather, I ought to say a few days ago, when you came to see me at Hill View, and now again I have lost you."

"Bourgeoise, bourgeoise," muttered my father; "those words are Penelope's words. She'd be sure to speak to you like that."

"Lady Carrington has asked me to stay here, and I should like to do it," I replied; "I am not going to wear any of the clothes she bought – no, not one, not one! But if you would come to see me to-morrow evening, perhaps we might have one long, last chat together. That is what I really wanted to ask you. Will you promise me, Dad?"

"Dear me, how afflicting!" said my father. "How afflicting and sentimental and unnecessary – and after all I have lived through! I didn't know you'd grow up that sort of child; you were such a jolly little thing when I took you down to your aunt. It's your aunt who has spoilt you. You can stay here, of course, if you prefer this house to the Westminster. Helen won't like it; she has got a box for us at the opera to-night."

"I can't go," I said.

"Very well. She would hate to see a dismal child, and your clothes won't be ready for a day or two – at least, most of them – so perhaps you had better stay here. I'll just go and speak to Lady Carrington."

Father left the room. By and by Lady Carrington came back alone.

"They've gone, dear," she said, "and I have made arrangements with Major Grayson that you are to stay with us during the honeymoon, so that altogether you will be with us for quite a month, my child. Now, during that month I want you to be happy and to make the best of things. Do you hear me?"

"Yes. I think I shall be happy with you. But oh! I have got a blow – I have got a blow!" I said.

CHAPTER VII

Father did not come to see me on Saturday night, although I hoped against hope that he would do so, but, to my great surprise, on Sunday evening he walked in, just as Lady Carrington was preparing to go out to evening service. I had refused to accompany her – I am afraid I made myself unpleasant to my kind friend on that occasion. I was overcome by the shock I had received, and this fresh and most unexpected parting from father, so that I could only centre my thoughts on myself.