After luncheon, on this day the 13th, Maggie disappeared into the upper part of the house and Grace settled down on the drawing-room sofa to a nice little nap.She fell asleep to the comforting patter of rain upon the windows and the howling of the storm down the chimney.She dreamt, as she often did, about food.
She was awakened, with a sudden start, by a sense of apprehension.
This happened to her now so often that there was nothing strange in it, but she jumped up, with beating heart, from the sofa, crying out: "What's happened? What's the matter?"She realised that the room had grown darker since she fell asleep, and although it was early still there was a sort of grey twilight that stood out against a deeper dusk in the garden beyond.
"What is it?" she said again, and then saw that Jenny, the maid, was standing in the doorway.
"Well, Jenny?" she asked, trying to recover some of her dignity.
"It's a man, mum," said the little girl.(Grace had got her cheap from an orphanage.) "A gentleman, mum.He's asking for Mrs.
Trenchard.'E give me 'is card.Oh, mum, 'e is wet too!"She had scarcely finished, and Grace had only taken the card, when Mathew Cardinal came forward out of the hall.He was a dim and mysterious figure in that half-light, but Grace could see that he was more battered and shabby than on his last visit.His coat collar was turned up.She could only very vaguely see his face, but it seemed to her strangely white when before it had been so grossly red.
She was struck by his immobility.Partly perhaps because she had been roused from sleep and was yet neither clear nor resolved, he seemed to her some nightmare figure.This was the man who was responsible for all the trouble and scandal, this was the man who threatened to drive Paul and herself from her home, this was the blackguard who had not known how to behave in decent society.But behind that was the terror of the mystery that enveloped Maggie--the girl's uncle, the man who had shared in her strange earlier life, and made her what she now was.As he stood there, motionless, silent, the water dripping from his clothes, Grace was as frightened as though he had already offered her personal violence or held a pistol to her head.
"What do you want?" she asked hoarsely, stepping back to the sofa.
Jenny had left the room.
"I want to see my niece," he answered, still without moving.She recognised then, strangely, in his voice a terror akin to her own.
He also was afraid of something.Of what? It was not that his voice shook or that his tongue faltered.But he was terrified...She could feel his heart thumping behind the words.
"I'm sorry," she said."You can't see her.She's upstairs resting."She did not know whence the resolution had come that he was not, in any case, to see Maggie; she did not know what catastrophe she anticipated from their meeting.She was simply resolved, as though acting under the blind orders of some other power, that Maggie should not see him and that he should leave the house at once.
"I must see her," he said, and the desperate urgency in his voice would have touched any one less terrified than Grace."I must.""I'm sorry," she answered.The fear in his voice seemed now to give her superiority over him."It's impossible.""Oh no," he said."If she's here it can't be impossible.She'd want to see me.We have things...I must...You don't understand, Miss Trenchard.""I only know," said Grace, "that after what occurred on your last visit here, Mr.Cardinal, Maggie said that she would never see you again.""That's a lie!" he said.
She made no answer.Then at last he said pitifully:
"She didn't really say that, did she?"
"Yes.I'm sorry.But you can understand after what occurred--"He came suddenly forward, the water trickling from him on to the carpet.
"You swear that's true?"
She could see now his face and realised that he was, indeed, desperate--breathless as though he had been running from some one.
"Yes, that's true," she answered.
"Maggie said that."
"Those were Maggie's words."
"Oh, well, I'm done..." He turned away from her as though her announcement had settled something about which he had been in doubt.
"It isn't like Maggie...But still she hasn't written.She saw Iwas hard up last time.All I deserve...All I deserve." He turned round to Grace again."I can't quite believe it, Miss Trenchard.It doesn't sound like Maggie, but perhaps you've influenced her...
That's likely.If she should change her mind I'm at the 'Sea Dog.'
Not much of a place.Quiet though.Yes, well.You might tell her not to bother.I'm finished, you see, Miss Trenchard.Yes, down.You'll be glad to hear it, I've no doubt.Well, I mustn't stay talking.Iwish Maggie were happier though.She isn't happy, is she?"The question was so abrupt that Grace was startled.
"I should hope so--Mr.Cardinal," she said.
"Oh, no, she isn't.I know.Always this religion she gets into.If it isn't one sort it's another.But she's a good girl.Don't you forget that.Well, I must be going.Good day.Good day."He was actually gone, leaving a little pool of water on the carpet behind him.Grace sat down on the sofa again.What a horrible man!
What a horrible man! But she had been wrong to say that about Maggie.Yes, she had.But he had taken her by surprise.Oh dear! How her heart was beating! And how strange he had looked.She could scarcely breathe.She sat there lost in stupefied wonder.At last tea came in, and with it Paul and Maggie.Grace felt ashamed and frightened.Why was Maggie always making her do things of which she was ashamed? It was as though the girl had power over her...
absurd, of course.Nevertheless, as she poured out the tea she was haunted by that man's eyes.Yes, he had undoubtedly been very unhappy.Yes, in great trouble.