CHAPTER XXIX.

A MIND DISEASED.

MRS. STANTON came home looking little better for her month's stay in town. Her face had still a worn and harassed look, and she responded in a fretful tone to Aldyth's loving greeting.

"Yes, I am very tired. The train was late at Wickham; it is so tiresome having to wait there. Oh, what a dead-alive place Woodham looks after London! I really do not know how I can exist here."

Aldyth had brightened her mother's room with fresh draperies and spring flowers, but, pleasant as the room looked, Mrs. Stanton's heart sank within her as she entered it. The place was associated for her with sleepless nights, painfully insistent thoughts, and a heavy weight of dread. She shivered as her glance fell on the wardrobe in which, locked away in her travelling desk, was the will which she dared not destroy, dared not even look upon again, but desired to keep hidden for ever.

"You are cold," said Aldyth, hastening to give the fire a stir. "The wind is very chill, although the sunshine is so brilliant. But spring is advancing; you will be surprised to see how bright the garden looks."

Mrs. Stanton turned to the window, which commanded one side of the garden. On the path below were Gladys and Guy, searching the violet bed for flowers, and laughing and talking merrily the while.

"Here already!" exclaimed Mrs. Stanton, in a tone of annoyance, as she drew back. "Guy might have spared us his company for this one evening. It is silly of Gladys to encourage him as she does."

"Sometimes I wonder if Gladys really cares for him," Aldyth ventured to say.

"Aldyth!" exclaimed her mother, in a tone of reproach. "What do you mean? Pray give your sister credit for some common sense. How is it possible that she could care for Guy?"

Aldyth might have replied that attachments are not invariably founded on common sense principles. Even the most prudent are occasionally betrayed by feeling. But she kept silence whilst her mother continued impatiently, "If your words mean what I suppose, you must know that such a thing is out of the question. I could never give my consent—unless, indeed, Guy's position were materially changed."

Mrs. Stanton's cheeks flushed as she uttered the last words. She might well shrink from seeing Guy Lorraine.

"Go down, Aldyth," she said, presently, "and see if that man is likely to stay long. I shall not come down whilst he is below."

"Very well, mamma," said Aldyth. "I am sorry he has come, since you dislike him so."

"I do dislike him," said Mrs. Stanton. "I dislike him more and more each time I see him."

The next moment the words seemed to her a dangerous admission, and she wished she could recall them.

Aldyth found that Gladys had already dismissed Guy, who had merely looked in on some slight pretext in order to ascertain if she had arrived. His visit had been highly entertaining to Gladys. His appearance, his words, his ways, all moved her to ridicule. She began to give Aldyth instances of his absurdity, laughing at him so heartily that Aldyth felt it was foolish of her to imagine for a moment that Gladys could seriously care for him. She launched her satire at him with such vehemence that Aldyth felt compelled to say a good word on his behalf.

"Come, come, Gladys," she said, "Guy is really not so bad as that. He is not lacking in physical courage. How is it that you and mamma dislike Guy so much?"

"Does mamma dislike him?" asked Gladys, changing colour.

"So she has just declared to me; but I think she is perhaps out of sorts. She does not look well, Gladys. The change has not apparently done her much good."

"She has been out of sorts, not to say cross, all the time," replied Gladys. "I fear I am rather a trial to mamma. The prince who is to make my fortune declines to appear. We met Captain Walker in town, Aldyth, and mamma had all kinds of plans for bringing him here; but, alas, he was about to sail for India with his regiment. That was a disappointment for mamma. He would have made such an aristocratic son-in-law."

"Gladys, it is very naughty of you to talk in that way."

"Now, Aldyth, you know it is true. Well, we have fresh schemes now. My mourning is to be slighted; mamma has bought me some charming grey and white gowns. We spent every penny of your cheque. There are to be dinner parties and tennis-parties and what not this summer. It is to be hoped they will have the desired result, and that I shall soon cease to be a pensioner on your bounty."

"How can you speak so!" said Aldyth, reproachfully. "It is unkind of you. As if I were not your sister! Gladys, promise me you will never allow any feeling of that kind to draw you into a marriage to which your heart does consent."

"You dear, romantic old thing!" cried Gladys, throwing arms about her sister and kissing her warmly. "No, I will promise nothing of the kind; it would not be fair to mamma." Suddenly relaxing her embrace, she ran off laughing.

At night, when Aldyth was helping her mother to undress, Mrs. Stanton said to her, "I wish you would stay with me to-night, Aldyth; I feel so nervous. I shall sleep better if I have a companion."

"Very well, mamma," said Aldyth, "that is easily arranged."

"I should like to have you always with me," said Mrs. Stanton, with more feeling than she often betrayed. "You must never leave me, Aldyth."

"I never will, if I can help it, mother dear."

"But perhaps you will marry, some day," said Mrs. Stanton, looking at her daughter.

"That is not likely, mamma."

"You have never seen any one for whom you could care?"

The colour rose in Aldyth's face, but she answered steadily, "I have not the least idea of marrying any one, mamma. All I want is to stay with you and take care of you."

Mrs. Stanton was content.

Aldyth had spoken in sincerity. Not that she had forgotten John Glynne. She could not wish to forget him. It would always be good to have known such a strong, true man. But she had resolutely striven to put from her any hope inspired by the memory of his parting words. The chance was so slight. He might never return; but if he did return, the circumstances of her life would still separate them. With her mother depending wholly upon her, the path of duty was plain; she could not turn aside from it, nor would she heed any selfish whisper that should suggest to her a happier way.

The springs were always cold at Woodham, but this season had more than its share of east wind. It was June ere the weather set in really warm. Mrs. Stanton grumbled continually at the climate, and really suffered from its severity. She was falling into a debilitated state of health, which rendered her very susceptible to chills. Aldyth did her best to relieve the gloom which weighed on her mother's mind. It seemed but a natural effect of the great change that had occurred in her life. Aldyth would remind herself of this when her mother was more than usually irritable and restless.

Mrs. Stanton could no longer reasonably complain of the dulness of her home. Visitors came frequently to Wyndham as the spring advanced. Mr. Greenwood found business to bring him to the Hall almost every week. It was discovered that the new tennis-ground at Wyndham was one of the best in the neighbourhood. Gladys, so pretty and gay, won admirers of both sexes, and had Aldyth been of a smaller nature she might have felt jealous of the amount of attention bestowed on her sister. Even as the heiress of Wyndham she had often to play a secondary part.

But Aldyth was not ambitious of social distinction, and the tennis-parties were spoiled for her by the thought of Kitty Bland, a champion player, lying helpless on her couch of pain. Aldyth spent many an hour with her friend, and Gladys too went frequently to see her. After that first meeting, Aldyth rarely saw Kitty give way to tears. Her cheerfulness was indeed a continual astonishment to Gladys. Gay, idle, as Gladys often appeared, Aldyth could perceive that she was not quite so thoughtless as she had been before Kitty's accident. The time spent with Kitty moved her to reflection. She gradually gained some insight into the secret of Kitty's brave endurance, with the result that she became dissatisfied with herself, and began to long for a higher life than the mere pursuit of pleasure which had hitherto contented her. Kitty's days of enforced idleness were not so fruitless as she imagined; she was exerting a lasting influence for good on other lives.

Spring gave place to summer, but Mrs. Stanton's spirits did not improve. She would exert herself and appear animated when visitors were present, but on their departure she sank back into a weary state of depression.

One evening Aldyth came back from a visit to Miss Lorraine, and found her mother alone in the drawing room. She had a book in her hand, but she was not reading, when Aldyth's sudden entrance caused her to start nervously. Aldyth sat down and began to draw off her gloves. She would enliven her mother with a piece of news she had learned. Clara Dawtrey was engaged to be married.

Miss Lorraine had told the news in her usual racy style, and Aldyth's eyes sparkled with fun as she recalled her aunt's words. She had not the least idea that Clara's engagement could make any difference to her.

"What is amusing you so, Aldyth?" her mother inquire in rather a fretful tone.

"I have heard some news," said Aldyth, nodding her head. "Who is engaged to be married, do you think?"

"Do not ask me to guess," said Mrs. Stanton, impatiently; "I hate guessing things."

"Well, then, it is Clara Dawtrey. As aunt says, 'her efforts are at last crowned with success.'"

"And who is the gentleman?"

"Oh, no one we know. A Mr. Gould, of London."

"What name did you say?" asked Mrs. Stanton, in such a quick, nervous tone that Aldyth looked at her in surprise.

"Gould is the name. He is a solicitor, and several years older than Clara. He is somehow connected with Essex, aunt says, and Clara Dawtrey told her that he had had some acquaintance with uncle."

"Uncle?" repeated Mrs. Stanton, feebly.

"Yes; Uncle Stephen, I mean. What is the matter, mamma? Do you know anything of this Mr. Gould?"

"Certainly not. How should I?" asked Mrs. Stanton, sharply, vexed with herself for betraying agitation.

"Something is the matter; you are feeling ill?" said Aldyth, rising, and looking anxiously at her mother's pallid, shrinking countenance.

"I am not well," said Mrs. Stanton, and a burst of tears relieved her. "My head aches. It is going to thunder, I believe. Yes, there must be thunder in the air."

"It does not feel to me like thunder-weather," said Aldyth, glancing at the sky.

But the storm Mrs. Stanton dreaded was of another kind. Gould. She could not mistake the name; it was too deeply impressed on her mind. She had read it on the hidden will. James Gould was the signature of one of the witnesses.