"I should be very glad to find their receipts," returned the Colonel.
They opened the most business-like looking bundles, all of them, though neatly kept, really in hopeless confusion. In vain was the search, and notes came forth which rendered it but too plain that there had been a considerable amount of debt even before the marriage, and that she had made partial payments and promises of clearing all off gradually, but that her new expenses were still growing upon her, and the few payments "on account," since she had been Lady Keith, by no means tallied with the amount of new purchases and orders. No one had suspected her money matters of being in disorder, and Rachel was very slow to comprehend; her simple, country life had made her utterly unaware of the difficulties and ways and means of a young lady of fashion. Even the direct evidence before her eyes would not at first persuade her that it was not "all those wicked tradesmen;" she had always heard that fashionable shops were not to be trusted.
"I am afraid," said Colonel Keith, "that the whole can scarcely be shifted on the tradesmen. I fear poor Bessie was scarcely free from blame in this matter."
"Not paying! Going on in debt! Oh she could not have meant it;" said Rachel, still too much astonished to understand. "Of course one hears of gay, thoughtless people doing such things, but Bessie--who had so much thought and sense. It must be a mistake! Can't you go and speak to the people?"
"It is very sad and painful to make such discoveries," said Colonel Keith; "but I am afraid such things are not uncommon in the set she was too much thrown amongst."
"But she knew so well--she was so superior; and with Alick and her uncle to keep her above them," said Rachel; "I cannot think she could have done such things."
"I could not think, but I see it was so," said Colonel Keith, gravely. "As I am obliged to understand these things, she must have greatly exceeded her means, and have used much cleverness and ingenuity in keeping the tradesmen quiet, and preventing all from coming to light."
"How miserable! I can't fancy living in such a predicament."
"I am much afraid," added the Colonel, looking over the papers, "that it explains the marriage--and then Keith did not allow her as much as she expected."
"Oh, Colonel Keith, don't!" cried Rachel; "it is just the one thing where I could not bear to believe Alick. She was so dear and beautiful, and spoke so rightly."
"To believe Alick!" repeated the Colonel, as Rachel's voice broke down.
"I thought--I ought not to have thought--he was hard upon her--but he knew better," said Rachel, "of course he did not know of all this dreadful business!"
"Assuredly not," said the Colonel, "that is self-evident, but as you say, I am afraid he did know his poor sister's character better than we did, when he came to warn me against the marriage."
"Did he? Oh how much it must have cost him."
"I am afraid I did not make it cost him less. I thought he judged her harshly, and that his illness had made him magnify trifles, but though our interference would have been perfectly useless, he was quite right in his warning. Now that, poor thing, she is no longer here to enchant us with her witcheries, I see that my brother greatly suffered from being kept away from home, and detained in this place, and that she left him far more alone than she ought to have done."
"Yes, Alick thought so, but she had such good reasons, I am sure she believed them herself."
"If she had not believed them, she could not have had such perfect sincerity of manner," said the Colonel; "she must have persuaded at least one half of herself that she was acting for every one's good except her own."
"And Mr. Clare, whom Alick always thought she neglected, never felt it. Alick says he was too unselfish to claim attention."
"I never doubted her for one moment till I came home, on that unhappy day, and found how ill Keith was. I did think then, that considering how much she had seen of Alick while the splinters were working out, she ought to have known better than to talk of sciatica; but she made me quite believe in her extreme anxiety, and that she was only going out because it was necessary for her to take care of you on your first appearance. How bright she looked, and how little I thought I should never see her again!"
"Oh, she meant what she said! She always was kind to me! Most kind!" repeated Rachel; "so considerate about all the dreadful spring--not one word did she say to vex me about the past! I am sure she did go out on that day as much to shelter me as for anything else. I can't bear to think all this--here in this pretty room that she had such pleasure in; where she made me so welcome, after all my disagreeableness and foolishness."
The Colonel could almost have said, "Better such foolishness than such wisdom, such repulsion than such attraction." He was much struck by Rachel's distress, and the absence of all female spite and triumph, made him understand Ermine's defence of her as really large- minded and generous.
"It is a very sad moment to be undeceived," he said; "one would rather have one's faults come to light in one's life than afterwards."
They were simple words, so simple that the terrible truth with which they were connected, did not come upon Rachel at the first moment; but as if to veil her agitation, she drew towards her a book, an ivory-bound Prayer-book, full of illuminations, of Bessie's own doing, and her eye fell upon the awful verse, "So long as thou doest well unto thyself, men will speak good of thee." It was almost more than Rachel could bear, sitting in the midst of the hoards, for which poor Bessie had sold herself. She rose up, with a sob of oppressive grief, and broke out, "Oh! at least it is a comfort that Alick was really the kindest and rightest! Only too right! but you can settle all this without him," she added imploringly; "need he know of this? I can't bear that he should."
"Nor I," said Colonel Keith, "it was the reason that I am glad you are here alone."
"Oh, thank you! No one need ever know," added Rachel.
"I fear my brother must see the accounts, as they have to be paid, but that need not be immediately."
"Is there anything else that is dreadful?" said Rachel, looking at the remaining papers, as if they were a nest of adders. "I don't like to take them home now, if they will grieve Alick."
"You need not be afraid of that packet," said the Colonel; "I see his father's handwriting. They look like his letters from India."
Rachel looked into one or two, and her face lighted up. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "this is enough to make up for all. This is his letter to tell about Alick's wound. Oh how beautifully he speaks of him," and Rachel, with no voice to read, handed the thin paper to her companion, that he might see the full commendation, that had been wrung from the reserved father's heart by his son's extremity.
"You must be prepared to hear that all is over," wrote the father to his daughter; "in fact, I doubt whether he can live till morning, though M'Vicar declares that nothing vital has been touched. Be it as it may, the boy has been in all respects, even more than I dared to wish, and the comfort he has been ever since he came out to me has been unspeakable. We must not grudge him such a soldier's death after his joyous life. But for you, my poor girl, I could only wish the same for myself to-morrow. You will, at least, if you lose a brother's care, have a memory of him, to which to live up. The thought of such a dead brother will be more to you than many a living one can ever be to a sister."
Rachel's heart beat high, and her eyes were full of tears of exultation. And the Colonel was well pleased to compensate for all the pain he had inflicted by giving her all the details he could recollect of her husband's short campaign. They had become excellent friends over their mournful work, and were sorry to have their tete- a-tete interrupted when a message was brought that his Lordship was ready, if Mrs. Keith would be so good as to come into his sitting- room.