Arthur Trafford; Robert Wentworth; and the doctor and lawyer, were to be the followers at the funeral.
I saw more of Arthur Trafford during that week of seclusion than I had previously done; and I was more than ever dissatisfied with him. For the first few days, Lilian kept her room, almost prostrate from the shock which had come upon her at a time when she was so entirely unprepared. I think too that it would have appeared to her almost like irreverence for the dead to listen to love-speeches just then. Nevertheless, she might have been expected to turn to him for comfort, and I thought it significant that she did not do so. I acted as messenger between them; and if I had had a very high opinion of Arthur Trafford before, I should have lost it now. The one only thing I could see in him to respect was his love for Lilian. It was not his lack of love for her, but his too evident love for something else, which offended me. It might be that I was not marked 'dangerous' in his estimation, now that circumstances were altered, and that therefore he was more unguarded with me. I can only say he appeared to very great disadvantage under the new aspect of affairs. In our first interview after Mr Farrar's death, I saw that he was thinking a great deal more of the large fortune which would revert to Lilian than anything besides.
'So I hear there is no will, Miss Haddon?'
'You have made inquiries already then!' was my mental comment. I knew that the fact was not public property yet, and that he must have taken some pains to find it out.
'I believe not, Mr Trafford,' I coldly returned.
But my coldness was not of the slightest importance. He was too much absorbed in the one thought to notice my manner of speaking.
'And Lilian inherits without restrictions of any kind. Just the kind of man to have made all sorts of unpleasant complications – meant to do it too – and now my darling is unfettered!'
And in his gratification, he so far forgot the convenances as to whistle softly to himself, whilst he carefully readjusted one of Nasmyth's little gems, which hung slightly aslant upon the wall. 'She says she knows how much you are sympathising with her just now, Mr Trafford.' He coloured to his temples as he replied: 'Of course I am, Miss Haddon. It's – it's a great loss, make the best of it, to an only child; and it came upon her so suddenly, poor girl.' Adding, a little consciously (I daresay it was not pleasant to have me silently eyeing him as I was doing), 'Tell her, please, that I am longing to do what I may to comfort her – beg her, for my sake to keep up. It will never do to let her get low and desponding, you know. Hers is a nature of the tendril kind – so entirely dependent upon those she loves.'
'I do not think so, Mr Trafford; and I do not think that those she loves will find it so. At anyrate, she does not give me the idea of being weak.'
'I meant only the kind of delicacy which accompanies refinement, and which is so charming in a woman, Miss Haddon;' adding a little more pointedly than was necessary, I thought: 'such fragility as arouses the chivalry of men.'
'As the chivalry is dying out, I must hope that the exciting cause is getting scarcer, Mr Trafford.'
We eyed each other a moment, and then tacitly agreed for an armed truce. I left him, and went to Lilian's room with lagging steps and a heavy heart.
'Arthur feels it terribly,' she said, lifting her eyes to mine as I entered the room; fortunately for me, taking it as a matter of course that he did. 'Dear papa was so good to him.'
'He hopes you will bear up for his sake, dear Lilian.'
'I will, indeed I will. Tell him he shall not find me selfish by-and-by.'
Still no allusion to the one subject which was engrossing all my thoughts. It was not until the evening after the funeral that she approached it, and then she waited until she and I were alone, before doing so. Flushing painfully, and with downcast eyes, she hesitatingly begun: 'Have you been thinking of – of what dear papa told us – that night, Mary?'
'Yes, dear, I have; a great deal.'
'I am so thankful that you and you only were present.' She paused a few moments, and I tried to help her.
'I think that there is no doubt – you have a sister, and that the packet, which I have taken care of, is intended for her, Lilian.' Taking it from my desk, I shewed her the words on it in her father's handwriting: 'Quarter's allowance due 24th for Marian;' with an address, 'Mrs Pratt, Green Street, Islington.'
'Marian! Yes; that was the name,' she murmured.
'I have since found out that she was born three or four years before Mr Farrar was married to your mother, Lilian.'
A bright hope sprang to her eyes. 'Perhaps he was married before, Mary?'
'I do not think that is likely, or it would be known. But I know you will none the less do what is just and right.'
'I shall all the more do what is right – I owe her so much more. If wrong has been done, it is for me to make what reparation I can. And – Mary, try to always remember how anxious he was to' – She broke down; an expression in her face which shewed how deep was the wound which her loving, sensitive nature had received. Her grief was so much the harder to bear, for the knowledge that her dead was less perfect than she had believed him to be. She was already obliged to plead for him.
I knew that fragile as she looked, and tender and yielding as she had hitherto seemed, it arose more from humility at finding herself blessed as ordinary mortals rarely are, than from any lack of strength. We had not seen the best of Lilian Farrar yet. Least of all, did her lover know her. Already I could have given a better reason for loving her than he could have done.
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