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diff --git a/12303-0.txt b/12303-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..802b855 --- /dev/null +++ b/12303-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17733 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12303 *** + +FATED TO BE FREE + +A Novel + +By JEAN INGELOW + +Author of "Off The Skelligs," "Studies for Stories," +"Mopsa the Fairy," Etc. + +1875 + + + + + + +AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION + +When authors attempt to explain such of their works as should explain +themselves, it makes the case no better that they can say they do it on +express invitation. And yet, though I think so, I am about to give some +little account of two stories of mine which are connected +together,--"Off the Skelligs," and "Fated to be Free." + +I am told that they are peculiar; and I feel that they must be so, for +most stories of human life are, or at least aim at being, works of +art,--selections of interesting portions of life, and fitting incidents, +put together and presented as a picture is; and I have not aimed at +producing a work of art at all, but a piece of nature. I have attempted +to beguile my readers into something like a sense of reality; to make +them fancy that they were reading the unskillful chronicle of things +that really occurred, rather than some invented story as interesting as +I knew how to make it. + +It seemed to me difficult to write, at least in prose, an artistic +story; but easy to come nearer to life than most stories do. + +Thus, after presenting a remarkable child, it seemed proper to let him +(through the force of circumstance) fall away into a very commonplace +man. It seemed proper indeed to crowd the pages with children, for in +real life they run all over; the world is covered thickly with the +prints of their little footsteps, though, as a rule, books written for +grown-up people are kept almost clear of them. It seemed proper also to +make the more important and interesting events of life fall at rather a +later age than is commonly chosen, and also to make the more important +and interesting persons not extremely young; for, in fact, almost all +the noblest and finest men and the loveliest and sweetest women of real +life are considerably older than the vast majority of heroes and +heroines in the world of fiction. + +I have also let some of the same characters play a part in both stories, +though the last opens long before the first, and runs on after it is +finished. It is by this latter device that I have chiefly hoped to give +to each the air of a family history, and thus excite curiosity and +invite investigation; the small portion known to a young girl being told +by her from her own point of view and mingled into her own life and +love, and the larger narrative taking a different point of view and +giving both events and motives. + +But in general, while describing the actions and setting down the words, +I have left the reader to judge my people; for I think many writers must +feel as I do, that, if characters are at all true to life, there is just +as much uncertainty as to how far they are to blame in any course that +they may have taken as there is in the case of our actual living +contemporaries. + +But why then, you may ask, do I write this preface, which must, if +nothing else had done so, destroy any such sense of truth and reality? +Why, my American friends, because I am told that a great many of you +are pleased to wish for some explanation. I am sure you more than +deserve of me some efforts to please you. I seldom have an opportunity +of saying how truly I think so; and besides, even if I had declined to +give it, I know very well that for all my pains you would still have +never been beguiled into the least faith as to the reality of these two +stories! + +London, June, 1875. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I. A WATCHER OF LILIES +II. THE LESSON +III. GOLD, THE INCORRUPTIBLE WITNESS +IV. SWARMS OF CHILDREN +V. OF A FINE MAN AND SOME FOOLISH WOMEN +VI. THE SHADOW OF A SHADE +VII. AN OLD MAN DIGS A WELL +VIII. THEY MEET AN AUTHOR +IX. SIGNED "DANIEL MORTIMER."--CANADA +X. CAUSES AND CONSEQUENCES +XI. WANTED A DESERT ISLAND +XII. VALENTINE +XIII. VENERABLE ANCIENTRY +XIV. EMILY +XV. THE AMERICAN GUEST +XVI. WEARING THE WILLOW +XVII. AN EASY DISMISSAL +XVIII. A MORNING CALL +XIX. MR. MORTIMER GOES THROUGH THE TURNPIKE +XX. THE RIVER +XXI. THE DEAD FATHER ENTREATS +XXII. SOPHISTRY +XXIII. DANTE AND OTHERS +XXIV. SELF-WONDER AND SELF-SCORN +XXV. THAT RAINY SUNDAY +XXVI. MRS. BRANDON ASKS A QUESTION +XVII. THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY +XXVIII. MELCOMBE +XXIX. UNHEARD-OF LIBERTIES +XXX. A CHAPTER OF TROUBLES +XXXI. A WOMAN'S SYMPATHY +XXII. MR. BRANDON IS MADE THE SUBJECT OF AN + HONOURABLE COMPARISON +XXXIII. THE TRUE GHOST STORY +XXXIV. VALENTINE AND LAURA +XXXV. A VISIT TO MELCOMBE +XXVI. A PRIVATE CONSULTATION +XXXVII. HIS VISITOR + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A WATCHER OF LILIES. + + + "Unto whom all hearts be open, all desires known, and from whom no + secrets are hid."--_Collect, English Communion Service._ + +In one of the south-western counties of England, some years ago, and in +a deep, well-wooded valley where men made perry and cider, wandered +little and read less, there was a hamlet with neither farm nor cottage +in it, that had not stood two hundred and fifty years, and just beyond +there was a church nearly double that age, and there were the mighty +wrecks of two great oak-trees, said to be more ancient still. + +Between them, winding like a long red rut, went the narrow road, and was +so deeply cut into the soil that a horseman passing down it could see +nothing of its bordering fields; but about fifty yards from the first +great oak the land suddenly dipped, and showed on the left a steep +cup-like glen, choked with trees, and only divided from the road by a +few dilapidated stakes and palings, and a wooden gate, orange with the +rust of lichens, and held together with ropes and bands. + +A carriage-drive was visible on the other side of the gate, but its +boundaries were half obliterated by the grass and weeds that had grown +over it, and as it wound down into the glen it was lost among the trees. +Nature, before it has been touched by man, is almost always beautiful, +strong, and cheerful in man's eyes; but nature, when he has once given +it his culture and then forsaken it, has usually an air of sorrow and +helplessness. He has made it live the more by laying his hand upon it, +and touching it with his life. It has come to relish of his humanity, +and it is so flavoured with his thoughts, and ordered and permeated by +his spirit, that if the stimulus of his presence is withdrawn it cannot +for a long while do without him, and live for itself as fully and as +well as it did before. + +There was nothing to prevent a stranger from entering this place, and if +he did so, its meaning very soon took hold of him; he perceived that he +had walked into the world of some who were courting oblivion, steeping +themselves in solitude, tempting their very woods to encroach upon them, +and so swathe them as in a mantle of secrecy which might cover their +misfortunes, and win forgetfulness both for their faults and for their +decline. + +The glen was about three hundred yards across, and the trees which +crowded it, and overflowed its steep side encroaching over the flat +ground beyond, were chiefly maples and sycamores. Every sunbeam that +shot in served to show its desolation. The place was encumbered with +fallen branches, tangled brushwood, dead ferns; and wherever the little +stream had spread itself there was a boggy hollow, rank with bulrushes, +and glorious with the starry marsh marigold. But here and there dead +trees stood upright, gaunt and white in their places, great swathes of +bark hanging loose from their limbs, while crowds of young saplings, +sickly for want of space and light, thrust up their heads towards the +sunshine, and were tied together and cumbered in their struggle by +climbing ropes of ivy, and long banners of the wild black vine. + +The ring of woodland was not deep, the domain was soon traversed, and +then stepping out into a space covered with rank meadow grass, one might +see the house which should have been its heart. + +It was a wide, old, red brick mansion, with many irregular windows, no +pane in which was more than two inches square. One end of it was deeply +embedded in an orchard of pear and apple trees, but its front was +exposed, and over the door might be seen the date of its building. The +roof was high and sloping, and in its centre rose a high stack of brick +chimneys, which had almost the effect of a tower, while under the eaves, +at regular intervals, were thrust out grotesque heads, with short spouts +protruding from their mouths. Some of these had fallen on the +paving-flags below, and no one had taken them up. No one ever looked out +of those front windows, or appeared to notice how fast the fruit-trees +by the house, and the forest-trees from the glen, were reaching out +their arms and sending forth their young saplings towards it, as if to +close it in and swallow it up. + +So still it looked with its closed shutters, that what slight evidence +there was of its really being inhabited appeared only to make it yet +more strange and alone; for these were a gaunt, feeble, old dog, who +paced up and down the flags as if keeping guard, and a brass handle on +the oaken door, which was so highly polished that it glittered and shone +in the light. + +But there was a great deal of life and company up aloft, for a tribe of +blue pigeons had their home among those eaves and chimneys, and they +walked daintily up the steep roof with their small red feet while they +uttered their plaintive call to their young. + +It was a strange fancy that prompted the cleaning of this door-handle. +"I mun keep it bright," the old woman would say who did it, "in case +anybody should come to call." No one but herself ever opened the door, +nobody within cared that she should bestow this trouble. Nobody, for +more than fifty years, ever had "come to call," and yet, partly because +the feigning of such a possibility seemed to connect her still with her +fellows of the work-a-day world, and partly because the young master, +her foster-brother, whom she deeply loved, had last been seen by her +with this door-handle in his hand, she faithfully continued every day to +begin her light tasks by rubbing it, and while so doing she would often +call to mind the early spring twilight she had opened her eyes in so +long ago, and heard creaking footsteps passing down the stairs; and then +how she had heard the great bolt of the door withdrawn, and had sprung +out of bed, and peering through her casement had seen him close it after +him, and with his young brother steal away among the ghostly white +pear-trees, never to return. + +"And I didn't give it a thought that they could be after aught worse +than rook-shooting," she would murmur, "for all I heard a sort of a +sobbing on the stairs. It was hard on poor old Madam though, never to +take any leave of her; but all her life has been hard for that matter, +poor innocent old critter. Well, well, I hope it's not a sin to wish 'em +happy, spite of that bad action; and as for her, she's had her troubles +in this world, as all the parish is ready to testify, and no doubt but +what that will be considered to her in the world to come." + +All the parish was always ready to testify that poor old Madam had had a +sight o' troubles. All the parish took a certain awful pleasure in +relating them; it was a sort of distinction to have among them such an +unfortunate woman and mother, so that the very shepherds' and ditchers' +wives plumed themselves upon it over those in the next parish, where the +old Squire and his wife had never lost one of their many children, or +had any trouble "to speak of." "For there was no call to count his +eldest son's running off with a dairymaid, it being well beknown," they +would observe with severity, "that his mother never would let e'er a one +of the young madams as were suitable to marry him come nigh the house." + +The dairymaid belonged to their parish, and so afforded them another +ground of triumph over their rivals. "Besides," they would say, "wasn't +their own church parson--old parson Green that everybody swore +by--wasn't he distinctly heard to say to the young man's father, 'that +he might ha' been expected to do wus'? They didn't see, for their parts, +that aught but good had come of it neither; but as for poor old Madam, +anybody might see that no good ever came nigh her. We must submit +ourselves to the Almighty's will," they would add with reverence. They +couldn't tell why He had afflicted her, but they prayed Him to be +merciful to her in her latter end. + +It was in old parson Green's time, the man they all swore by, that they +talked thus; but when parson Craik came, they learned some new words, +and instead of accepting trouble with the religious acquiescence of the +ignorant, they began to wonder and doubt, and presently to offend their +rivals by their fine language. "Mysterious, indeed," they would say, "is +the ways of Providence." + +In the meantime the poor old woman who for so many years was the object +of their speculations and their sympathy, lived in all quietness and +humbleness at one end of her long house, and on fine Sundays edified the +congregation by coming to church. Not, however, on foot; her great age +made that too much an exertion for her. She was drawn by her one old +man-servant in a chair on wheels, her granddaughter and her grandson's +widow walking beside her, and her little great-grandson, Peter, who was +supposed to be her heir, bringing up the rear. + +Old Madam Melcombe, as the villagers called her. She had a large frame, +but it was a good deal bowed down; her face was wrinkled, and her blue +eyes had the peculiar dimness of extreme old age, yet those who noticed +her closely might detect a remarkable shrewdness in her face; her +faculties were not only perfect, but she loved to save money, and still +retained a high value for, and a firm grip of, her possessions. The land +she left waste was, notwithstanding, precious to her. She had tied up +her gate that her old friends might understand, after her eldest son's +death, that she could not be tortured by their presence and their +sympathy; but she was known sometimes by her grand-daughters to enlarge +on the goodness of the land thereabouts, and to express a hope that when +Peter's guardians came into power, they would bring it under the plough +again. She went to church by a little footpath, and always conducted +herself with great decorum, though, twice or thrice during the reading +of the lessons, she had startled the congregation by standing up with a +scared expression of countenance, and looking about her while she leaned +on her high staff as if she thought some one had called her; but she was +in her ninety-fifth year, and this circumstance, together with the love +and pity felt for her, would easily have excused far greater +eccentricities. + +She had felt very keenly the desertion of her second and her fourth +sons, who had run away from home when the elder was barely eighteen, and +without previous quarrel or unkindness so far as was known; nor was it +believed that they had ever come to see her since, or sought her +forgiveness. Her eldest son, while still in the flower of his age, had +died by his own hand; her youngest son had died in the West Indies, of +fever; and the third, the only one who remained with her, had never been +either a comfort or a credit to his family: he had but lately died, +leaving a son and a daughter. Of these, the daughter was with her +grandmother, and the son was just dead, having left an only child, his +heir. + +At one end of the house, as had been said, was an orchard, at the other +was a large garden. If the desolate appearance of the house was likely +to raise oppressive feelings in a stranger's mind, how much more this +garden! It was a large oblong piece of ground, the walls of which +enclosed the western end of the house completely. One of them ran +parallel with the front, and a massive oaken door somewhat relieved its +flat monotony; but this door afforded no ingress, it was bolted and +barred from within. + +The garden was that special portion of her inheritance on which the +ancient owner rested her eyes; morning, noon, and evening she would sit +gazing on its green fishpond, all overgrown with duckweed, on the lawn +now fast being encroached on by shrubbery, and on the bed of lilies +which from year to year spread and flourished. + +But she never entered it, nor did any one else. + +That end of the house had but four windows on the ground floor, and +these were all strongly barred with iron, the places they lighted +consisting of kitchen, offices, and a cider store-room. Above these on +the first-floor were three pleasant rooms overlooking the garden, and +opening on to a wooden gallery or verandah, at each end of which was an +alcove of an old-fashioned and substantial description. + +The gallery was roofed above, had a heavy oaken balustrade, and being +fully ten feet wide afforded a convenient place in which the lonely old +lady could take exercise, for, excepting on Sunday, she was scarcely +ever known to leave her own premises. There also her little +great-grandson Peter first learned to walk, and as she slowly passed +from one alcove to the other, resting in each when she reached it, he +would take hold of her high staff and totter beside her, always +bestowing on her as much as he could of his company, and early showing a +preference for her over his aunt and even over his mother. + +Up and down the gallery this strange pair would move together, and as +she went she gazed frequently over the gay wilderness below, and if she +sat long in one of the alcoves, she would peer out at its little window +always on the same scene; a scene in the winter of hopeless neglect and +desolation. Dead leaves, dead dry stalks of foxgloves and mullens. +broken branches, and an arbour with trellised roof, borne down by the +weight of the vine. + +But in spring and summer the place was gorgeous in parts with a confused +tangle of plants and shrubs in flower. Persian lilacs, syringas, +labernums made thickets here and there and covered their heads with +bloom. Passion flowers trailed their long tendrils all over the gallery, +and masses of snow-white clematis towered in many of the trees. + +All distinction between pathway and border had long since been +obliterated, the eyes wandered over a carpet of starred and spangled +greenery. Tall white gladiolas shot up above it, and spires of foxgloves +and rockets, while all about them and among the rose-trees, climbed the +morning glory and the briony vine. + +Stretching in front of the ruined arbour was a lawn, and along one edge +of it under the wall, grew a bed of lilies, lilies of the valley, so +sweet in their season, that sometimes the old lady's grand-daughters +would affirm that a waft of their breath had reached them as they sat up +in the gallery at work. + +It was towards this spot that Madam Melcombe looked. Here her unquiet +face was frequently turned, from her first early entrance into the +gallery, till sunset, when she would sit in one of the alcoves in hot +weather. She gave no reason for this watch, but a kindly and reverent +reserve protected her from questions. It was felt that the place was +sacred to some recollection of her youth, when her young children were +about her, before the cruel desertion of two, the ceaseless quarrels of +other two, and the tragic death of one of them, had darkened her days. + +The one door in the wall being fastened, and the ground-floor at that +end of the house having none but barred windows, it follows that the +only entrance to the garden was now from this gallery. There was, +indeed, a flight of steps leading down from it, but there was a gate at +the top of them, and this gate was locked. + +On the day of her eldest son's funeral, his stricken mother had locked +it. Perhaps she scarcely knew at first that the time would never come +when she should find courage again to open it; but she took away the key +to satisfy some present distressful fancy, and those about her respected +her desire that the place should not be entered. They did not doubt that +there was some pathetic reason for this desire, but none was evident, +for her son had gone down to his death in a secluded and now all but +inaccessible part of the glen, where, turning from its first direction, +it sunk deeper still, and was divided by red rocks from its more shallow +opening. + +A useless watch at best was hers, still of the terrace, and the arbour, +and the bed of lilies; but as she got yet deeper down into the vale of +years, those about her sometimes hoped that she had forgotten the +sorrowful reason, whatever it might be, that drew her eyes incessantly +towards them. She began even to express a kind of pleasure in the +gradual encroachments of the lovely plants. Once she had said, "It is my +hope, when I am gone, as none of you will ever disturb them." + +Whatever visions of a happy youth, whatever mournful recollections of +the sports of her own children, might belong to them, those now with her +knew not of them, but they thought that her long and pathetic watch had +at last become more a habit with her than any conscious recalling of the +past, and they hoped it might be so. + +The one sitting-room used by the family opened into the gallery, and was +a good deal darkened by its roof. On one side of it was Peter's nursery, +on the other his great-grandmother's chamber, and no other part of the +house was open excepting some kitchen offices, and two or three bedrooms +in the roof. The servants consisted of a nurse (herself an old woman), +who sat nearly all day in the parlour, because her far more aged +mistress required much attendance, a grey-headed housemaid, a cook, and +a man, the husband of this last. His chief business was to groom the one +horse of the establishment, and ride on it to the nearest town for meat, +grocery, and other marketings. + +The floor of the parlour was oak, which had once been polished; all the +furniture was to the last degree quaint and old fashioned; the two large +windows opened like double doors upon the gallery, and were shaded by +curtains of Madras chintz. The chairs, which were inconveniently heavy, +were also covered with chintz; it was frilled round them like a +petticoat, and was just short enough to show their hideous club-feet. +Over the chimney-piece was a frame, and something in it said to be a +picture. Peter, when a very little child, used to call it "a picture of +the dark," for it seemed to be nothing but an expanse of deep brown, +with a spot of some lighter hue in one corner. He wished, he said, that +they had put a piece of moon in to show how dark that country was. The +old nurse, however, had her theories about this patch; she would have it +that it was somewhat in the shape of a jacket; she thought it likely +that the picture represented a hunt, and said she supposed the foremost +horseman in his red coat was watering his horse in a pond. Peter and the +nurse had argued together on this subject many times before the old lady +was appealed to, but when they once chanced to ask her about the +picture, she affirmed that the patch was a lobster, and that a sort of +ring which seemed faintly to encircle it was the edge of a plate. In +short, she declared that this was a Dutch picture of still life, and +that in Peter's time, when he came to have it cleaned, it would prove to +be worth money. + +"And when will it be my time?" asked little Peter innocently. + +"Hold your tongue, child!" whispered his mother; "it won't be your time +till your poor dear grandmother's in heaven." + +"I don't want her to go to heaven yet," said Peter in a plaintive tone +(for he regarded her as much the best possession he had), and, raising +his voice, he complained to her as to one threatening to injure him, +"Grandmother, you don't want to go to heaven just yet, do you?" + +"Lor bless the child!" exclaimed old Madam Melcombe, a good deal +startled. + +"No, don't," continued Peter in a persuasive tone; "stop here, but let +me clean the picture, because I want to see that lobster." + +"Now I tell you what," answered his great-grandmother rather sharply, +"if you was to go and play in the gallery, it would be a deal better +than arguing with me." So Peter departed to his play, and forgot the +lobster for a little while. + +But Peter was not destined that evening to please his great-grandmother, +for he had no sooner got well into the spirit of his play in the gallery +than he began to sing. "I'm a coward at songs," she would sometimes say; +"and if it wasn't for the dear birds; I could wish there was no music in +the world." + +Her feeling was the same which has been beautifully described by +Gassendi, who, writing in Latin, expresses himself thus:-- + +"He preferred also the music of birds to the human voice or to musical +instruments, not because he derived no pleasure from these last, but +because, after hearing music from the human voice, there remained a +certain sustained agitation, disturbing attention and sleep; while the +risings and fallings, the tones and changes and sounds and concords, +pass and repass through the fancy; whereas nothing of the sort can be +left after the warbling of birds, who, as they are not open to our +imitation, cannot move the faculty of imagination within us." (Gassendi, +in _Vita Peireskii_.) + +In the garden was plenty of music of the sort that Madam Melcombe still +loved. Peter could not shout in his play without disturbing the storm +cock as he sat up aloft singing a love-song to his wife. As for the +little birds, blackcaps haunted almost every bush, and the timid +white-throat brooded there in peace over her half-transparent eggs. + +So no one ever sang in old Madam Melcombe's presence unless Peter forgot +himself, and vexed his mother by chanting out snatches of songs that he +had caught up from the village children. Mrs. Peter Melcombe formed for +herself few theories; she was a woman dull of feeling and slow of +thought; she knew as a fact that her aged relative could not bear music. +So, as a matter of duty and self-interest, she stopped her child's +little voice when she could, and if he asked, "Why does grandmother cry +when I sing?" she would answer, "Nobody knows," for she had not +reflected how those to whom music is always welcome must have neither an +empty heart nor a remorseful conscience, nor keen recollections, nor a +foreboding soul. + +Peter was a good little boy enough; he was tolerably well tamed by the +constant presence of old age and, with the restraints it brought upon +him, and having less imagination than falls to the lot of most children, +he was the more affected by his position. When he strayed into a field +of wheat, and there was waving and whispering above his head, it was not +all one to him, as if he had been lost in some old-world forest, where +uncouth creatures dwelt, and castles and caverns might be encountered +before the stile. He could not see the great world out of the parlour +window, and understand and almost inherit another world beyond the +hills; as to the moon, the child's silver heaven, he never saw something +marvellous and mild sitting up there and smiling to him to come. + +But he was happy, and instead of the wide-open eyes of a child fed to +the full with the wonders about him and within him, his eyes were shaded +constantly by their light lashes; he enjoyed his play, but he blinked +when day was at the full; and all his observations concerned realities. +Some story had reached him about a ghost which had been seen in that +immediate neighbourhood. + +"Who cooks his dinner for him?" inquired the child. + +"He has no dinner," answered the old housemaid. + +"I don't want to see him, then," said the little winking, blinking +philosopher; "he might ask me for some of mine." + +But that was a height of prudence that he could not reach often, and he +several times annoyed his mother and alarmed his aunt by asking +questions about this ghost. + +Laura Melcombe, Peter's aunt, acted as his governess, and took a certain +pride and pleasure in his young intelligence. It was well that she had +something real to interest her, for her character was in strong contrast +to her nephew's. She lived mainly in an ideal world, and her life was +fed by what she fetched up from the clod or down from the clouds. +Chiefly by the former. She was "of imagination all compact;" but that is +a very unlucky case where there is weak judgment, little or no keenness +of observation, a treacherous memory, and a boundless longing for the +good things of life. Of all gifts, imagination, being the greatest, is +least worth having, unless it is well backed either by moral culture or +by other intellectual qualities. It is the crown of all thoughts and +powers; but you cannot wear a crown becomingly if you have no head +(worth mentioning) to put it on. + +Miss Laura Melcombe thought most of the young farmers in the +neighbourhood were in love with her. Accordingly, at church or at the +market-town, where she occasionally went on shopping expeditions, she +gave herself such airs as she considered suitable for a lady who must +gently, though graciously, repel all hopeless aspirations. She was one +of those people to whom a compliment is absolute poison. The first man +who casually chanced to say something to her in her early youth, which +announced to her that he thought her lovely, changed her thoughts about +herself for ever after. First, she accepted his compliment as his +sincere and fervent conviction. Secondly, she never doubted that he +expressed his continuous belief, not his feeling of the moment. Thirdly, +she regarded beauty in her case as thenceforward an established fact, +and not this one man's opinion. Fourthly, she spent some restless months +in persuading herself that to admire must needs be to love, and she +longed in vain to see him "come forward." Then some other casual +acquaintance paid her a compliment, and she went through the same +experience on his account, persuading herself that her first admirer +could not afford to marry; and this state of things had now gone on for +several years. + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE LESSON. + + + "Or those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell, think ye...." + +Many and many an hour had Peter spent, when he was a very little boy, in +gazing through the heavy banister-like railings of the gallery; and, as +he grew older, in pensively leaning upon them, and longing in vain to +get into the forbidden Paradise of the garden. The gallery floor being +about twelve feet from the ground he could see the whole place from it. +Oh the stores of nests that it must contain! the beautiful sharp sticks +for arrows! the capital elder shoots, full of pith! how he longed to get +at them for making pop-guns! Sometimes, when the pink hawthorns were in +flower, or the guelder-roses, he would throw a ball at one of them just +to see what showers of bloom would come down; and then what a commotion +such an event would make among the birds! what chattering and chirping, +and screaming and fluttering! But the experiment was rather a costly +one, for the ball once thrown there was no getting it back again, it +must lie and rot till the seams burst open, and birds picked the wool +out for their nests. + +Sometimes Peter would get a hook tied to the end of a long string, and +amuse himself with what he called fishing, that is to say, he would +throw out his line, and try to get it tangled in the slight branches of +some shrub, and draw it up, with a few of the flowers attached; but +with all his fishing he never got up any thing worth having: the utmost +being a torn cabbage-rose, and two or three shattered peonies, leaf and +root and all. + +It is melancholy to think how much valuable property was engulphed in +this untrodden waste, how many shuttlecocks, hit a little too hard, had +toppled over and settled on some flowery clump, in full view of, but out +of reach for ever of their unfortunate possessor; how many marbles had +bounded over and leaped into the green abyss; how many bits of +slate-pencil, humming-tops, little ships made of walnut-shells, and +other most precious articles, had been lost there to human ken, and now +lay hidden and mouldering away! + +Sometimes when Peter had lost anything of more than common value, he +would complain to his aunt, or his mother, and hint a humble wish that +he could get it again. On such occasions his mother would remark, with a +languid sigh, that it certainly did seem a pity such a fine piece of +land should lie waste; but if Peter followed up the conversation by +declaring that he could easily climb over the gate and get down into the +garden if he might, he was immediately met by such stern rebukes from +all parties, and such fervent assurances that if he ever dared to do +such a thing he should certainly be sent to school, that he grew to the +age of seven years with two deep impressions on his mind; first, that it +would be very wicked to go down into the garden; second, that it would +be very dreadful to be sent to school. + +One very fine hot day in July Madam Melcombe had caused a table to be +set in the gallery, that she might enjoy her early tea in the open air. +Peter and the rest of the party were with her, and after a long silence +he turned towards her and said, "Grandmother, there are no ghosts in our +house, are there?" + +"Ne'er a one," exclaimed the nurse with zealous promptitude, "they +don't come to houses where _good folks live_." + +"I wish they would," said Peter, thoughtfully, "I want to see one." + +"What does he say?" asked the great-grandmother. The nurse repeated +Peter's audacious remark; whereupon Madam Melcombe said briskly and +sharply, "Hold your tongue, child, and eat your bread and milk like a +Christian; you're spilling it on the floor." + +"But I wish they would," repeated Peter softly; and finishing his bread +and milk, he said his grace; and his fishing-rod being near at hand, he +leaned his elbows on the balustrade, threw his line, and began to play +at his favourite game. + +"I think," he said, presently turning to his aunt, "I think, aunt, I +shall call the garden the 'field of the cloth of gold;' it's so covered +with marigolds just now that it looks quite yellow. Henry's tent shall +be the arbour, and I'll have the French king's down in this corner." + +On hearing this, his mother slightly elevated her eyebrows, she had no +notion what he was alluding to; but his grandmother, who seemed to have +been made rather restless and uneasy by his remarks about ghosts, +evidently regarded this talk as something more of the same sort, and +said to her granddaughter, "I wish, Laura, you wouldn't let him read +such a quantity of fairy tales and heathenish nonsense--'field o' the +cloth o' gold, indeed!' Who ever heard of such a thing!" + +"He has only been reading the 'History of England,' grandmother," said +Peter's aunt. + +"I hadn't read anything out of that book for such a long time," said +Peter; "my Bible-lesson to-day made me remember it. About that other +field, you know, grandmother." + +"Come, that's something like," said old Madam Melcombe. "Stand up now, +and let me hear your Bible-lesson." + +"But, grandmother," Peter inquired, "I may call this the 'field of the +cloth of gold,' mayn't I?" + +"O dear me, call it anything you like," she replied; "but don't stand in +that way to say your task to me; put your feet together now, and fold +your hands, and hold your head up. To think that you're the child's +aunt, Laura, she continued fretfully, and should take no more heed to +his manners. Now you just look straight at me, Peter, and begin." + +The child sighed: the constraint of his attitude perhaps made him feel +melancholy. He ventured to cast one glance at his fishing-rod, and at +the garden, then looking straight at his great-grandmother, he began in +a sweet and serious tone of voice to repeat his lesson from the +twenty-seventh chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel, the third to the tenth +verse. + +3. _"Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was +condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of +silver to the chief priests and elders._ + +4. _"Saying, I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood. +And they said, What is that to us? see thou to that._ + +5. _"And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, +and went and hanged himself._ + +6. _"And the chief priests took the silver pieces, and said, It is not +lawful for to put them into the treasury, because it is the price of +blood._ + +7. _"And they took counsel, and bought with them the potter's field, to +bury strangers in._ + +8. _"Wherefore that field was called, The field of blood unto this day._ + +9. _"Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy the prophet, +saying, And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of him that +was valued, whom they of the children of Israel did value._ + +10. _"And gave them for the potter's field, as the Lord appointed me._" + +What was this!--standing upright again, as she had done several times in +the church--was she listening? It scarcely appeared that she was; she +took first one hand from her staff, and looked earnestly at it, and then +she took the other, and with wide-open eyes examined that also. + +"O cruel, cruel," thought Peter's mother, when Peter had repeated a +verse or two, "why did not Laura prevent this, she who knew what the +child's lesson was?" and she sat cold and trembling, with an anguish of +pity; but she felt that now it was too late to stop her boy, he must go +on to the end. As to the nurse, she sitting there still, with her work +on her knees, felt as if every word rose up and struck her on the face. +He was slowly, pensively, and O so calmly, describing to the poor mother +the manner of her son's death. + +"That will do, master Peter," she exclaimed, the moment he had finished; +and she snatched his hand and led him away, telling him to go and play +in the orchard. + +Peter was not destitute of gratitude, and as he made his exit, he +thought, what a good thing it was that he did not say his lesson to his +grandmother every day. + +When the nurse turned again she observed that Madam Melcombe had +tottered a step or two forward: her grand-daughter, and her grandson's +widow were supporting her. One of them called to her to fetch some +cordial, and this seemed to disturb the poor old woman, for she +presently said slowly, and as if it caused her a great effort to +speak,-- + +"What are they gone for? and what are you doing?" + +"We're holding you up, grandmother; you tremble, dear; you can hardly +stand. Won't you sit down?" + +"Won't I what?" she repeated. "I don't hear;" and she began to move +with their help and that of her staff to the balustrade. + +The old fancy; the constant fancy; gazing at the bed of lilies, and +talking to herself as, with her trembling hand to her brow, she peered +out towards the arbour. They were words of no particular significance +that she said; but just as the nurse came back bringing her a cordial, +she turned round and repeated them distinctly, and with a solemnity that +was almost awful. + +"They all helped to dig it; and they know they did." + +Words that appeared to be so far from the tragical recollection which +must have first caused this disturbance in her poor mind; but her +grand-daughter thought proper to make her some kind of answer. + +"Did they, grandmother?" she said in a soothing tone, "and a very good +thing too." + +She stopped short, for upon the aged face fell suddenly such a look of +affright, such renewed intelligence seemed to peer out of the dim eyes, +and such defiance with their scrutiny, that for the moment she was very +much alarmed. + +"She's not quite herself. Oh, I hope she's not going to have a stroke!" +was her thought. + +"What have I been a saying?" inquired Madam Melcombe. + +"You said it was a good thing they dug the lily bed," answered her +grand-daughter. + +"And nothing else?" + +"No, ma'am, no," answered the nurse; "and if you had, what would it +signify?" + +Madam Melcombe let them settle her in her chair and give her her +cordial, then she said-- + +"Folks are oft-times known to talk wild in their age. I thought I might +be losing my wits; might have said something." + +"Dear grandmother, don't laugh!" exclaimed her grandson's widow; "and +don't look so strange. Lose your wits! you never will, not you. We shall +have you a little longer yet, please God, and bright and sensible to the +last." + +"Folks are oft-times known to talk wild in their age," repeated Madam +Melcombe; and during the rest of that evening she continued silent and +lost in thought. + +The next morning, after a late breakfast, her family observed that there +was still a difference in her manner. She was not quite herself, they +thought, and they were confirmed in their opinion when she demanded of +her grand-daughter and her grandson's widow, that a heavy old-fashioned +bureau should be opened for her, and that she should be left alone. "I +don't know as I shall be spared much longer," said the meek +nonogenarian, "and I've made up my mind to write a letter to my sons." + +"_My sons_!" When they heard this they were startled almost as they +might have been if she had had no sons, for neither of them had ever +heard her mention their names. Nothing, in fact, was known concerning +them in that house, excepting that what portion of success and happiness +had been allotted to the family seemed all to have fallen to their +share. + +They were vastly unpopular in the hamlet. Not that any but the very old +people remembered the day when they had first been missing, or what an +extraordinary effect their behaviour had produced on their mother; but +that the new generation had taken up her cause--the new parson also--and +that the story being still often told had lost nothing in the narration. + +Parson Craik had always been poor old Madam's champion since his coming +among them. He had taken pains to ascertain the facts from the oldest +Ledger's old wife, and when first he heard her tell how she had opened +her door at dawn to let in her husband, during the great gale that was +rocking the orchard trees and filling the air with whirls of blossom, +that came down like a thick fall of snow, he made an observation which +was felt at the time to have an edifying power in it, and which was +incorporated with the story ever after. "And when I telled him how the +grete stack of chimneys fell not half-an-hour after, over the very place +where they had passed, and how they were in such a hurry to be off that +they jumped the edge for fear us should stop them or speak to them. Then +says Parson Craik to me, sitting as it might be there, and I a sitting +opposite (for I'd given him the big chair), says he to me, 'My friend, +we must lay our hands on our mouths when we hear of the afflictions of +the righteous. And yet man,' says he, 'man, when he hears of such +heartless actions, can but feel that it would have been a just judgment +on them, if the wind had been ordained in the hauling of those chimneys +down, to fling 'em on their undutiful heads.'" + +Poor Madam Melcombe, her eldest son, whose heir she was, had caused the +stack of chimneys to be built up again; but she was never the same woman +from that day, and she had never seen those sons again (so far as was +known), or been reconciled to them. And now she had desired to be left +alone, and had expressly said, "I've made up my mind to write a letter +to my sons." + +So she was left alone and undertook, with trembling hands and dimmed +eyes, her unwonted task. She wrote a letter which, if those about her +could have seen it, would certainly have affected their feelings, and +would perhaps have made them think more highly yet of her meek forgiving +nature, for she neither blamed her sons nor reminded them of what they +had done; but rather seemed to offer a strange kind of apology for +troubling them, and to give a reason for doing so that was stranger +still. + + + +THE LETTER. + +"Son Daniel and Son Augustus,--This comes from your poor unfortunate +mother that has never troubled you these many, many years, and hoping +you and your families are better than I am at present, son Daniel and +you son Augustus; and my desire is both of you, that now you will not +deny your poor mother to come and see her, but will, on receipt of this, +come as soon as may be, for it's about my funeral that I want to speak, +and my time is very short, and I was never used to much writing. + +"If you don't come, in particular you, son Daniel, you will break your +poor mother's heart. + +"And so no more at present from her that never said an unkind word to +you. + +"Elizabeth Melcombe." + + +This letter was addressed to the elder son, went through the village +post-office, and when its direction was seen, such interest was excited +and so much curiosity, that half the women in the hamlet had been +allowed to take a look at its cover before it was sent away. + +Perhaps Madam Melcombe herself, when she sat expecting these long-lost +sons to appear, was scarcely more agitated or more excited than were the +people in that sequestered place. A good many cottagers were hanging +about or looking out of the windows when they alighted, and going into +the small inn called for spirits and water. It was known outside at once +what they had asked for. No wonder they wanted some Dutch courage to +take them into her presence, was the general thought. + +Several little boys had gathered in front of the door longing, and yet +dreading, to get a sight of them. Some inhabitants would have liked to +hiss, but lacked unanimity or courage, nobody wanted to begin. Some +would have liked to speak, but had not considered beforehand what to +say. + +The brothers came out, the children fell back; but one little fellow, a +child five years old, with a sort of holy necessity upon him (as was +supposed) to give his testimony, threw a very little bit of soft dirt at +the legs of one of them. + +This action was not noticed; and before the other little urchins had +found time for aught more fruitful than regret that they had not done +likewise, the gentlemen got into their post-chaise, and were driven to +the old mansion. + +And their mother? + +She was quite alone, sitting in all state and expectation, in one of the +alcoves, while the deep shadow of the house fell distinct and well +defined over the wilderness of a garden. + +Her senses were more acute than usual. She was grasping her long staff, +and already wearying for them, when she heard the sound of wheels, and +presently after a foot in her parlour, and the nurse appeared with two +cards on a tray. + +Mr. Mortimer, Mr. Augustus Mortimer. This formal introduction flurried +Madam Melcombe a little. "The gentlemen are coming," the nurse almost +whispered; and then she withdrew, and shutting the glass-doors behind +her, left this mother to meet with these sons. + +Whatever anxiety, whatever sensations of maternal affection might have +been stirring within her, it is certain that her first feeling was one +of intense surprise. The well-remembered faces that she had cherished +now for much more than half a century--the tall, beautiful youth--the +fine boy, almost a child, that had gone off with him, could they be now +before her? She was not at all oblivious of the flight of time; she did +not forget that the eldest of these sons was scarcely nineteen years +younger than herself; yet she had made no defined picture of their +present faces in her mind, and it was not without a troubled sense of +wonder that she rose and saw coming on towards her two majestic old men, +with hair as white as snow. + +Her first words were simple and hesitating. She immediately knew them +from one another. + +"Son Dan'el," she said, turning to the taller, "I expect this is you;" +and she shifted her staff to her left hand while he took the right; and +then the other old man, coming up, stooped, and kissed her on the +forehead. + +Madam Melcombe shed a few tears. Both her sons looked disturbed, and +very ill at ease. She sat down again, and they sat opposite to her. Then +there was such a long, awkward pause, and her poor hand trembled so +much, that at last, as if in order to give her time to feel more at +ease, her younger son began to talk to her of her grand-daughter who +lived with her, and of her little great-grandson, Peter Melcombe. He +hoped, he said with gravity, that they were well. + +There seemed to be nothing else that either of them could think of to +say; and presently, helped by the rest their words gave her, Madam +Melcombe recovered her self-possession. + +"Son Dan'el," she said, "my time must be short now; and I have sent for +you and your brother to ask a favour of you. I could not lie easy in my +grave," she continued, "if I thought there would be nobody of all my +children to _follow me_. I have none but poor Peter's daughter and +grandson here now, and I hope you and Augustus and your sons will come +to my funeral. I hope you'll promise me faithfully, both of you, that +you'll certainly come and follow me to the grave." + +A silence followed. The disappointment of both the sons was evident. + +They had hoped, the younger remarked, that she might have had something +else to say. + +No, she had not, she answered. Where would be the good of that? They had +written to her often enough about that. + +And then she went on to repeat her request. There was nothing she would +not do for them, nothing, if they would but promise to come. + +"So be it," replied the elder; "but then, you must make me a promise, +mother, in your turn." + +"It isn't the land?" she inquired with humble hesitation. "I should be +agreeable to that." + +"No, God forbid! What you have to promise me is, that if I come to your +funeral, you will make such a will that not one acre of the land or one +shilling you possess shall ever come to me or mine." + +"And," said the other promptly, "I make the same promise, on the same +condition." + +Then there was another pause, deeper and more intense than the first. +The old mother's face passed through many changes, always with an air of +cogitation and trouble; and the old sons watched her in such a suspense +of all movement, that it seemed as if they scarcely breathed. + +"You sent your cards in," she said as if with sudden recollection, "to +remind me that you'd kept your father's name?" + +"Nothing will ever induce either of us to change it," was the answer. + +"You're very hard on me, son Dan'el," she said at last; "for you know +you was always my favourite son." + +A touching thing to say to such an old man; but there was no reply. + +"And I never took any pride in Peter," she continued, "he was that +undutiful; and his grandson's a mere child." + +Still no reply. + +"I was in hopes, if I could get speech of you, I should find you'd got +reasonable with age, Dan'el; for God knows you was as innocent of it as +the babe unborn." + +Old Daniel Mortimer sighed deeply. They had been parted nearly sixty +years, but their last words and their first words had been on the same +subject; and it was as fresh in the minds of both as if only a few days +had intervened between them. Still it seemed he could find nothing to +say, and she, rousing up, cried out passionately,-- + +"Would you have had me denounce my own flesh and blood?" + +"No, madam, no," answered the younger. + +She noticed the different appellation instantly, and turning on him, +said, with vigour and asperity,-- + +"And you, Augustus, that I hear is rich, and has settled all your +daughters well, and got a son of your own, _you_ might know a parent's +feelings. It's ill done of you to encourage Dan'el in his obstinacy." + +Then, seeing that her words did not produce the slightest effect, she +threw her lace apron over her head, and pressing her wrinkled hands +against her face, gave way to silent tears. + +"I'm a poor miserable old woman," she presently cried; "and if there's +to be nobody but that child and the tenants to follow me to the grave, +it'll be the death of me to know it, I'm sure it will." + +With an air of indescribable depression, the elder son then repeated the +same promise he had given before, and added the same condition. + +The younger followed his example, and thereupon humbly taking down the +lace from her face, and mechanically smoothing it over her aged knees, +she gave the promise required of her, and placed her hand on a +prayer-book which was lying on the small table beside her, as if to add +emphasis and solemnity to her words. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +GOLD, THE INCORRUPTIBLE WITNESS. + + + Accipe Hoc. + +After she had received the promise she desired from her sons--a promise +burdened with so strange a condition--Madam Melcombe seemed to lose all +the keenness and energy she had displayed at first. + +She had desired above all things that honour should be shown to her in +her death; her mind often occupied itself with strange interest and +pertinacity on the details of her funeral. All her wishes respecting it +had long been known to her granddaughters, but her eldest surviving son +had never been mentioned by name to them. She always spoke of him as +"the chief mourner." + +Suddenly, however, it appeared to have occurred to her that he might not +be present at it, after all. Everything must be risked to ascertain +this. She must write, she must entreat his presence. But when he and his +brother sent in their cards she, for the first time in her life, +perceived that all she had done was useless. She saw the whole meaning +of the situation; for this estate had come to her through the failure of +heirs male to her father, and it was the provision of his will that she +and her heirs should take back his name--the name of Melcombe. + +She knew well that these two sons had always retained their father's +name; but when they sent it in to her, she instinctively perceived +their meaning. They were calling her attention to the fact, and she was +sure now that they never meant to change it. + +She had not behaved kindly or justly to her grandson's widow, for people +had called little Peter her heir, and she had not contradicted them. But +she had never made a will; and she secretly hoped that at the last +something would occur to prevent her doing so. + +Everything was absolutely in her own power, to leave as she pleased; but +a half superstitious feeling prompted her to wait. She wished her eldest +surviving son to inherit the estate; but sad reflection seemed to assure +her that if it simply lapsed to him as heir-at-law, he would think that +next thing to receiving it through a dispensation of Providence; and she +was such an unhappy mother, that she had reason to suppose he might +prefer that to a direct bequest from her. So she left the kindly women +who shared her seclusion entirely unprovided for, and the long services +of her old domestics unrewarded, in order to flatter the supposed +prejudices of this unknown son, who was destined now to show her how +little he cared for all her forethought, and all her respect for his +possible wishes. + +This was now over. She felt that she was foiled. She sat, leaning her +chin on the top of her staff, not able to find anything more to say; and +every moment they spent together, the mother and sons became more +painfully embarrassed, more restless and more restrained. + +In the meanwhile Peter's mother and aunt, just as unconscious that his +heirship had ever been a doubt, as that it had been secured to him then +and there, sat waiting below, dressed in their best, to receive these +visitors, and press them to partake of a handsome collation that had +been prepared by their mother's order, and was now spread for them with +unwonted state and profusion in the best parlour. + +This large room had not been used for forty years; but as it was always +kept with closed shutters, excepting on those days when it received a +thorough and careful cleaning, the furniture was less faded than might +have been expected, and the old leather-backed chairs, ebony cabinets, +and quaint mirrors leaning out from the walls, looked almost as fresh as +ever. + +"Only let me get speech of them," the mother had thought, "and all may +yet come right between us; for it's a long time ago, a weary while since +we parted, and they ought to find it easier to forget than I do!" Then +she had charged her grand-daughter, when the lunch was ready, to ring a +bell, and she would send them down. "Or even, mayhap, I may come down +myself," she had added, "leaning on the arm of my son." + +So the bell was rung, and Laura and Mrs. Peter Melcombe waited for the +grandmother and her guests with no little trepidation. + +They had not intended to be cordial. Their notion of their own part in +this interview was that they should be able to show a certain courteous +coldness, a certain calm gravity in their demeanour towards these two +uncles, but neither of them knew much of the world or of herself. They +no sooner saw the majestic old men come in without their mother than +Laura, feeling herself blush down to her very finger tips, retreated +into the background, and Mrs. Peter Melcombe, suddenly finding that she +had forgotten what she had intended to say, could scarcely collect +enough composure to answer the gentle courtesy of their rather distant +greeting. + +A sort of urban polish struck her country sense, making her feel at once +that she was a rustic, and that they belonged to a wider and more +cultivated world. She felt herself at a disadvantage, and was angry with +herself that it should be so, in that house of all places in the world, +where she had every right to hold up her head, and they had surely +reason to be ashamed of themselves. + +Peter was the only person present who was at ease; the unwonted joy of +finding himself in the "great parlour" had excited him. He had been +wandering about examining the china vases and admiring the little +rainbows which sunshine struck out from the cut-glass borders of the +mirrors. + +He was very well pleased to include the two great-uncles among the new +and interesting objects about him. He came up when called by one of +them, answered a few simple questions with childlike docility, and made +his mother more sure than before that these dignified old men were +treating him, her sister-in-law, and herself, with a certain pathetic +gentleness that was almost condescension. + +Indeed, both the ladies perceived this, but they also saw that they +could not play the part their old relation had assigned to them. Such a +handsome collation as it was too, but each, after accepting a biscuit +and a glass of cider (the very finest cider and more than ten years +old), rose as if to take leave. One patted Peter on the head, and the +other ordered the chaise. Neither Laura nor Mrs. Peter Melcombe could +find courage to press them to eat, though their secluded lives and +old-fashioned manners would have made them quite capable of doing so if +they had felt at ease. They looked at one another as the two grand old +men withdrew, and their first words were of the disappointment the +grandmother would feel when she heard that they had hardly eaten +anything at all. + +Madam Melcombe, however, asked no questions. She was found by them when +Mr. Mortimer and his brother had withdrawn sitting in her favourite +alcove with her chin resting upon her staff. She was deep in thought, +and excepting that she watched the chaise drearily as it wound down +among the apple and pear trees and was lost to sight, she did not appear +to be thinking of her sons. Nor did she mention them again, excepting +with reference to her funeral. + +"He's a fine man," she remarked in a querulous tone; "he'll look grand +in his cloak and scarf when he stands over my grave with his hat off; +and I think (though Dan'el, you understand is to be chief-mourner) that +he and his brother had better follow me side by side, and their two sons +after them." + +How little Laura and Mrs. Peter Melcombe had ever thought about these +old men, or supposed that they were frequently present to the mother's +mind. And yet now there seemed to be evidence that this was the case. + +Two or three guarded questions asked the next day brought answers which +showed her to be better acquainted with their circumstances than she +commonly admitted. She had always possessed a portrait in oils of her +son Daniel. It had been painted before he left home, and kept him always +living as a beautiful fair-haired youth in her recollection. She took +pains to acquaint herself with his affairs, though she never opened her +lips concerning them to those about her. + +His first marriage had been disastrous. His wife had deserted him, +leaving him with one child only, a daughter. Upon the death of this poor +woman many years afterwards, he had married a widow whose third husband +he was, yet who was still young, scarcely so old as his daughter. + +Concerning this lady and her children the poor old mother-in-law +continually cogitated, having a common little photographic likeness of +her in which she tried to find the wifely love and contentment and all +the other endearing qualities she had heard of. For at rare intervals +one or other of her sons would write to her, and then she always +perceived that the second Mrs. Daniel Mortimer made her husband happy. +She would be told from time to time that he was much attached to young +Brandon, the son of her first marriage, and that from her three +daughters by her second marriage he constantly received the love and +deference due to a father. + +But this cherished wife had now died also, and had left Daniel Mortimer +with one son, a fine youth already past childhood. + +Old Madam Melcombe's heart went into mourning for her daughter-in-law +whom she had never seen. None but the husband, whose idol she was, +lamented her longer and more. Only fifty miles off, but so remote in her +seclusion, so shut away, so forgotten; perhaps Mrs. Daniel Mortimer did +not think once in a season of her husband's mother; but every day the +old woman had thought of her as a consoler and a delight, and when her +favourite son retired she soon took out the photograph again and looked +sadly at those features that he had held so dear. + +But she did not speak much of either son, only repeating from time to +time, "He's a fine man; they're fine men, both of them. They'll look +grand in their scarves and cloaks at my funeral." + +It was not ordained, however, that the funeral should take place yet +awhile. + +The summer flushed into autumn, then the apples and pears dropped and +were wasted in the garden, even the red-streak apples, that in all the +cider country are so highly prized. Then snow came and covered all. + +Madam Melcombe had been heard to say that she liked her garden best in +winter. She could wish to leave it for good when it was lapped up under +a thick fall of snow. Yet she saw the snow melt again and the leaves +break forth, and at last she saw the first pale-green spires shoot up +out of the bed of lilies. + +But the longest life must end at last, the best little boys will +sometimes be disobedient. + +It appears strange to put these things together; but if they had +anything to do with one another, Peter did not know it. + +He knew and felt one day that he had been a naughty boy, very naughty, +for in fact he had got down into the garden, but he also knew that he +had not found the top he went to look for, and that his grandmother had +taken from him what he did find. + +This punishment he deserved; he had it and no other. It came about in +this wise. + +It was a sweet April day, almost the last of the month. All the +cherry-trees were in full flower; the pear-trees were coming out, and +the young thickets in the garden were bending low with lilac-blossom, +but Peter was miserable. + +He was leaning his arms over the balustrade, and the great red peonies +and loose anemones were staring up at him so that he could see down into +their central folds; but what is April, and what is a half-holiday, and +what indeed is life itself when one has lost perhaps the most excellent +top that boy ever spun, and the loudest hummer? And then he had taken +such care of it. Never but once, only this once, had he spun it in the +gallery at all, and yet this once of all misfortunes it had rolled its +last circle out so far that the balustrade had struck it, and in the +leap of its rebound it had sprung over. + +At first he felt as if he should like to cry. Then a wild and daring +thought came and shook at the very doors of his heart. What if he +climbed over the gate and got down, and, finding his top, brought it up +so quickly that no one would ever know? + +His mother and aunt were gone out for a walk; his great-grandmother and +the nurse were nodding one on each side of the fire. It was only three +o'clock, and yet they had dined, and they were never known to rouse +themselves up for at least half an hour at that time of day. + +He took one turn along the gallery again, peeped in at the parlour +window, then in a great hurry he yielded to the temptation, climbed over +the wooden gate, got down the rotten old steps, and in two minutes was +up to his neck in a mass of tangled blossoms. Then he began to feel that +passion of deep delight which is born of adventure and curiosity. He +quite forgot his top: indeed, there was no chance of finding it. He +began to wade about, and got deeper and deeper in. Sometimes quite +over-canopied, he burrowed his way half smothered with flowers; +sometimes emerging, he cast back a stealthy glance to the gallery. + +At last he had passed across the lawn, arrived almost at the very end of +the garden, and down among the broken trellis-work of the arbour three +nests of the yellow-hammer were visible at the same time. He did not +know which to lay hands on first. He thought he had never been so happy +in his life, or so much afraid. + +But time pressed. He knew now that he should certainly climb over that +gate again, though for the present he did not dare to stay; and +stooping, almost creeping, over the open lawn and the bed of lilies, he +began to work his way homeward by the wall, and through old borders +where the thickest trees and shrubs had always grown. + +At last, after pushing on for a little distance, he paused to rest in a +clump of fir-trees, one of which had been dead for so many years that +all its twigs and smaller boughs had decayed and dropped to the ground. +Only the large branches, gaunt and skeleton-like, were left standing, +and in a fork between two of these and quite within his reach, in a lump +of soft felt, or perhaps beaver, he noticed something that glittered. +Peter drew it away from the soft material it was lying among, and looked +at it. It was a sort of gold band--perhaps it was gold lace, for it was +flexible--he had often heard of gold lace, but had not seen any. As he +drew it away something else that depended from a morsel of the lump of +rag fell away from it, and dropped at his feet. It might have been some +sort of badge or ornament, but it was not perfect, though it still +glittered, for it had threads of gold wrought in it. "This is almost in +the shape of an anchor," said Peter, as he wrapped the gold band round +it, "and I think it must have been lost here for ages; perhaps ever +since that old uncle Mortimer that I saw was a little boy." + +So then with the piece of gold band wrapped round his hand he began to +press on, and if he had not stopped to mark the places where two or +three more nests were, he would have been quicker still. + +On and on, how dangerously delightful his adventure had been! What would +become of him if he could not get down to-morrow? + +On and on, his heart beat with exultation; he was close to the steps and +he had not been discovered; he was close to the top of them and had not +been discovered; he was just about to climb over when he heard a cry +that rang in his ears long after, a sharp, piercing cry, and turning he +saw his great-grandmother in her cloak and hood standing in the entrance +of the alcove, and reaching out her hands as if she wanted to come and +meet him, but could not stir. + +"Peter! Peter! Peter!" she cried, and her voice seemed to echo all over +the place. + +Peter tumbled over the gate as fast as he possibly could; and as she +still cried, he ran to her at the top of his speed. + +All in a moment she seemed to become quite still, and though she +trembled as she seized him, she did not scold him at all; while he +mumbled out, "I only just went down for a very little while. I only +wanted just to look for my top; I didn't take any of the nests," he +continued, mentioning the most valuable things he had been amongst, +according to his own opinion. + +His grandmother had let go his hand and raised herself upright; her eyes +were on the bit of gold band. "What's that?" she said faintly. + +"It's nothing particular," said Peter, unwinding it slowly from his +hand, and humbly giving it up. "It's nothing but a little sort of a gold +band and an ornament that I found stuck in a tree." Then Peter, +observing by her silence how high his misdemeanour had been, began to +sob a little, and then to make a few excuses, and then to say he hoped +his grandmother would forgive him. + +No answer. + +"I wish I hadn't done it," he next said. He felt that he could not say +more than that, and he looked up at her. She was not regarding him at +all, not attending to what he had said, her face was very white, she was +clutching the bit of gold lace in her hand, and her wide-open eyes were +staring at something above his head. + +"Peter! Peter! Peter!" she cried again, in a strangely sharp and ringing +voice. It seemed as it she would fall, and Peter caught hold of her arm +and held her, while the thought darted through his mind, that perhaps +she had called him at first because she was ill, and wanted him to hold +her, not because she had observed his visit to the garden. He felt sure +she could hardly stand, and he was very much frightened, but in a moment +the nurse, having heard her cry, came running out, and between them they +guided her to her chair in the alcove. + +"I'm very sorry, grandmother," Peter sobbed, "and really, really I +didn't take any nests or lilies or anything at all, but only that bit of +stuff. I'll never do it again." + +As he spoke he saw his mother and aunt coming up with looks of grief and +awe, and on looking into his grandmother's face he beheld, child that he +was, a strange shadow passing over it, the shadow of death, and he +instinctively knew what it was. + +"Can't you move poor grandmother out of the sun?" he sobbed. "Oh do! I +know she doesn't like it to shine in her eyes." + +"Hush! hush!" his mother presently found voice enough to say amid her +tears. "What can it signify?" + +After that Peter cried very heartily because everybody else did, but in +a little while when his grandmother had been able to drink some cordial, +and while they were rubbing her cold hands, she opened her eyes, and +then he thought perhaps she was going to get better. Oh, how earnestly +he hoped might be so! + +But there was no getting better for Madam Melcombe. She sat very still +for some minutes, and looked like one newly awakened and very much +amazed, then, to the great surprise of those about her, she rose without +any aid, and stood holding by her high staff, while, with a slightly +distraught air, she bowed to them, first one and then another. + +"Well, I thank you for all your kindness, my dears," she said, "all your +kindness. I may as well go to them now; they've been waiting for me a +long time. Good Lord!" she exclaimed, lifting up her eyes, "Good Lord! +what a meeting it will be!" + +Then she sank down into her chair again, and in a moment was gone. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +SWARMS OF CHILDREN. + + + "As our hope is that this our sister doth."--_Burial Service._ + +And now was to take place that ceremony to which Madam Melcombe's +thoughts had so often been directed. She had tried to arrange that it +should be imposing, and imposing indeed it was, but not by virtue of the +profusion of the refreshment, not by the presence of the best hearse +from the county town, the best mourning coaches, the grandest plumes, +but by the unsolicited attendance of a great company of people come +together to do homage to a life distinguished by its misfortunes, its +patience, and its charities. + +She had never been able to think of herself as taking part in that +ceremony unconsciously; her orders had always been given as if by one +who felt that if things were meanly done she should know it; but in +taking care that refreshments should be provided for all the funeral +attendants, she little thought that the whole parish, men and women, +were to follow her, and most of them in tears. But it was so. The +tenants had been invited; they walked after her in scarf and band, two +and two, and after them, in such mourning as they could afford, came all +the people, and pressed on in a procession that seemed to the real +mourners almost endless, to look down upon her coffin and obtain a place +near her grave. + +It was out of doors, and all nature was in white. Round the churchyard +pear-trees grew, and leaned their laden branches over its walls. +Pear-trees, apple-trees, and cherries filled the valley and crowded one +another up all the hills. Mr. Craik's voice, as he stood at the grave, +also in white, was heard that quiet afternoon far and near. It was +remarked on all sides how impressively he read, and there were plenty to +be edified by the solemn words who had never heard his voice before, for +many people had walked over from neighbouring parishes, and stood in +groups at respectful distances. + +All looked at the stranger-sons; they stood side by side, awe-struck, +motionless, depressed. The old do not easily shed tears, but there was +something in the demeanour of both these old men that was felt to tell +of no common emotion. One of them seemed unable to look down into the +grave at all, he kept his eyes and his face lifted up. The other, as +little Peter stood crying by his side, put his hand down and let it rest +on the child's uncovered head, as if to quiet and comfort him. + +This little, half-unconscious action gave great umbrage to some of the +spectators. "Hadn't the dear child allers been the biggest comfort to +his grandmother, and why indeed wasn't he to cry as much as ever he +liked? He had nothing to reproach himself with, and if he had had his +rights, he would have been made chief mourner. Those that stood next the +corpse had never been any comfort or pleasure to her, but that dear +child had walked beside her to church ever since he had been old enough +to go there himself." + +"And so those were Daniel and Augustus Mortimer's sons. Very fine young +gentlemen too, one of them not over young, neither; he looked at least +thirty. Well, very mysterious were the ways of Providence! Poor Cuthbert +Melcombe, the eldest son, had left neither chick nor child; no more had +poor Griffith, the youngest. As for Peter, to be sure he had left +children, but then he was gone himself. And these that had behaved so +bad to their blessed mother were all she had to stand by her grave. It +was very mysterious, but she was at rest now, and would never feel their +undutifulness any more." + +It was about four o'clock on that summer-like afternoon that the +mourners came home from the funeral. The ladies for the sake of quiet +retired with Peter to their rooms in the roof; the Mortimers, after +partaking of a slight repast in the great parlour, stepped out and began +to pace up and down before the house to refresh their spirits with a +little air. + +The will had been read in the morning, before the funeral took place. +Valentine Mortimer and John Mortimer, the two grandsons, were both +present. Valentine being a mere boy, barely eighteen, may well have been +excused if he did not notice anything peculiar in the demeanour of the +two old men; did not notice, as John Mortimer did, the restless +excitement of both, and how they appeared to be sustaining and +encouraging one another, and yet, when the important sentence came which +left them without so much as a shilling, how bravely and soberly they +took it, without the least betrayal of mortified feeling, without any +change of countenance or even of attitude. + +Valentine had often heard his father say that he had no expectations +from his mother, that he was quite sure the property never would come to +him. He had believed this, and excepting that he found the preamble of +the will solemn and the reading impressive, he did not take any special +interest in it. + +Every shilling and every acre were left to little Peter Melcombe, his +mother being appointed his sole guardian till he reached the age of +twelve years, and a request being added that her dear son Daniel would +see to the repairing of the house, and the setting in order of the +garden and woodland. + +"And yet not a shilling left to either of them," thought John. "I always +fancied there was some estrangement--felt sure of it; but if my father +and uncle were so far friendly with their mother that she could ask this +favour, how odd that she leaves nothing, not so much as a remembrance, +to either of them! The eldest son, by all accounts, was a very violent, +overbearing man; I've heard my father say as much; but he has been dead +so long that, if there was any estrangement on his account, they must +have made it up long ago." + +And now the funeral was over. John Mortimer, taking the youth with him, +was walking about among the pear-trees close to the garden-wall, and the +two old brothers, who appeared to have a dislike to being separated, +even for a moment, were leisurely walking on, and in silence looking +about them. + +"I should like to get into the garden," said John Mortimer; "here's a +door." + +"But it's locked," remarked Valentine, "and Mrs. Peter Melcombe told me +yesterday that none of them ever walked in it." + +"Ah, indeed!" said John carelessly--he was far from giving a literal +meaning to the information. "It looks a rotten old thing," he continued; +"the key is in the house, no doubt, but I don't want to have the trouble +of going in to ask for it." + +"Perhaps it's not locked," said Valentine; "perhaps it only wants a +push." + +John and Valentine were standing among some cherry-trees, which, being +thickly laden with their blossom, screened them from observation as far +as the windows of the now opened house were concerned. John did push, +and when the door creaked he pushed again, and the rotten old lock +yielded, came away from the lintel, and as the two old fathers turned, +they were just in time to see their sons disappear through the doorway +and walk into the garden. With a troubled glance at one another, and an +effort not to appear in haste, the fathers followed them. + +"Can't we get them away?" exclaimed Mr. Mortimer; "can't we tell them to +come out?" + +"Certainly not, certainly not, brother," answered old Augustus, in a +reassuring tone. "You'll not say a word to dissuade them from going +wherever they please." + +"No," said the other, in a nervous, hesitating manner. "You're quite +right, Augustus; you always are." + +"Is it not a strange place?" exclaimed John, as they walked forward and +looked about them. "It seems to me that really and truly they never do +enter it." + +"Well, I told you so," answered Valentine. "It is on account of the +eldest son. Miss Melcombe told me that he was a very eccentric +character, and for many years before his death he made gardening his one +occupation. He never suffered any one but himself to garden here, not +even so much as to mow the grass. After he was dead the poor old +grandmother locked it up. She didn't like any one else to meddle with +it." + +"Why, he was dead before I was born," exclaimed John, "and I am +two-and-thirty. Poor soul! and she never got over that misfortune, then, +in all those years. There's a grand pear-tree! lots of rotten fruit +lying under it--and what a fine apple-tree! Is this of the celebrated +'redstreak' variety, I wonder, that Phillips praises so in his poem on +cider." + +"A poem on cider!" + +"Yes, I tell you, a poem on cider, and as long as 'Paradise Lost.' It +has some very fine passages in it, and has actually been translated into +Italian. I picked up a copy of it at Verona when I was a boy, and +learned a good deal of it by heart, by way of helping myself with the +language. I remember some of it to this day:-- + + "'Voi, donne, e Cavalier del bel paese + A cui propizio il ciel tanto concesse + Di bene, udite il mio cantare,' &c., &c. + +"I wonder, now, whether this is a redstreak." + +As their sons talked thus the two fathers approached, and gravely looked +on at this scene of riotous and yet lovely desolation. Nests with eggs +in them adorned every little bush, vines having broken the trellis ran +far along the ground. John, remembering that the place must have painful +thoughts connected with their dead brother for his father and uncle, +continued to talk to Valentine, and did not address either of them: and +whatever they may have felt they did not say a word; but Valentine +presently observed the bed of lilies, and he and John moved on together, +the two fathers following. + +They outwalked their fathers, and Valentine, stooping over the bed, +gathered two or three of the lovely flowers. + +"The poor old grandmother!" he observed. "Miss Melcombe told me she +loved to watch this bed of lilies, and said only a few days ago, that +she could wish they might never be disturbed." + +He turned--both the old men stood stock still behind him, looking down +on the lily-bed. Valentine repeated what Miss Melcombe had told him. "So +no doubt, papa, you'll give orders that it shall not be touched, as you +are going to have all the place put in order." + +"Yes, yes, certainly my boy--certainly he will," said Uncle Augustus, +answering for his brother. + +Valentine was not gifted with at all more feeling or sentiment than +usually falls to the lot of a youth of his age, but a sort of +compunction visited him at that moment to think how soon they all, alive +and well, had invaded the poor old woman's locked and guarded sanctuary! +He stooped to gather another lily, and offered the flowers to his +father. Old Daniel looked at the lilies, but his unready hand did not +move forward to take them; in fact, it seemed that he slightly shrank +back. With an instantaneous flash of surprise Valentine felt rather than +thought, "If you were dead, father, I would not decline to touch what +you had loved." But in the meantime his uncle had put forth a hand and +received them. "And yet," thought Valentine, "I know father must have +felt that old lady's death. Why, when he was in the mourning-coach he +actually cried." And so thinking, as he walked back to the garden-door +with John Mortimer, he paused to let John pass first; and chancing to +turn his head for one instant, he saw his uncle stoop and jerk those +lilies under a clump of lilac bushes, where they were hidden. Before +either of the old men had noticed that he had turned, Valentine was +walking with his cousin outside, but an uneasy sensation of surprise and +suspicion haunted him. He could not listen to John Mortimer's talk, and +when, the rest of the party had gone back to the house, he lingered +behind, returned to the garden, and, stooping down for an instant, saw +that it was as he had supposed; there, under the lilac bushes, were +lying those gathered lilies. + +So he went back to the house. The two grandsons were to return home that +afternoon; the two sons were going to remain for a few days, that the +wishes of the deceased might have prompt attention, as regarded the +setting of the place in order. They were to sleep at the inn in the +hamlet, by their own desire, that, as they said, they might not give +trouble. + +When Valentine entered the great parlour, his cousin was talking to +Peter's mother, and in the presence of his father and uncle he was +inviting her to let the boy come and stay awhile with his children +shortly. + +Mrs. Peter Melcombe hesitated, and observed that her dear child had +never been away from her in his life, and was very shy. + +"No wonder," quoth John Mortimer; "but I have several jolly little boys +and girls at home; they would soon cure him of that." + +Mrs. Peter Melcombe seemed pleased. She had taken a great fancy to the +good-looking young widower; she remarked that Peter had never been used +to playing with other children--she was half-afraid he would get hurt; +but as Mr. Mortimer was so kind she would risk it. + +"Poor little beggar!" said John Mortimer to his father, as they all +walked to the inn together; "those two women will mope that boy into his +grave if they don't look out." + +"No, John," exclaimed his uncle, "I hope you really don't think so." + +John, in spite of his youth, had some experience. He had already filled +his house with little Mortimers. There were seven of them--some of the +largest pattern, and with the finest appetites possible. So his opinion +carried weight, and was at the same time worth nothing, for as his +children had never but once had anything the matter with them, his +general view of childhood was that if it had plenty to eat, a large +garden to play in, and leave to go out in all weathers, it was sure to +prosper, as in fact the little Mortimers did. They brought themselves up +(with a certain amount of interference from their governess) in a high +state of health and good-humour, and with no quarrelling to speak of, +while the amount of sleep they got out of their little beds, the rapid +skill with which they wore down their shoes, and the quantity of rice +milk and roast meat they could consume, were a wonder to the matrons +round. + +"I see nothing special the matter with him," continued John Mortimer; +"but one cannot help pitying a child that has no companions and no +liberty. I thought I should like to plunge him for a little while into +the sweet waters of real child-life, and let him learn to shout and +stamp and dig and climb, as my little urchins do." + +"But his mother is a poor, faded, fat creature," observed Valentine. +"You'll see she won't let that boy go. You can no more get her to do a +sensible thing than you can dry your face with a wet towel." + +"Gently, sir, gently," said his father, not liking this attempt at a +joke on a day which had begun so solemnly. + +So Mr. John Mortimer presently departed, taking his handsome young +cousin with him, and the old men, with heavy steps and depressed +countenances, went into the inn and began anxiously to talk over the +various repairs that would be wanted, and all that would have to be done +in the garden and the grounds. + +In the meantime it was known in the neighbourhood that parson Craik was +going to preach a funeral sermon for poor old Madam the very next Sunday +morning, and an edifying description of her death passed from mouth to +mouth--how she had called her little great-grandson, Peter, to her as +the child was playing near, probably that she might give him her +blessing--how, when the nurse came running out, she had seen her looking +most earnestly at him, but evidently not able to say a word. Afterwards, +she had a little revived and had risen and beautifully expressed her +gratitude to all about her for their long kindness and attention, and +then, how, piously lifting up her hands and eyes, she had told them that +she was now going to meet with those that she had loved and lost. "O +Lord!" she had exclaimed, "what a meeting that will be!" and thereupon +she had departed without a sigh. + +For several days after this Mr. Mortimer and his brother went about the +business left to them to do. They sent for an architect, and put the +house into his hands to be thoroughly repaired. Mrs. Peter Melcombe was +desirous not to leave it, and this they arranged to allow, giving orders +that the apartments which the family had always occupied should remain +untouched till the rest of the house was finished and ready for her. +They also had the garden-door repaired to give her ingress, and the +gallery-gate taken away. These same sons who for so many years had never +come near their mother, seemed now very anxious to attend to her every +wish; scarcely a shrub was cut down in the garden excepting in the +presence of one of them, and when Mrs. Peter Melcombe especially begged +that the grandmother's wish respecting the bed of lilies might be +attended to, Mr. Mortimer, with evident emotion, gave orders to the +gardener that it should not be touched. + +And then Sunday came, and with it a trial that the two sons had not +expected. It was announced by the churchwarden to the family, first to +the ladies at the hall, and then to the gentlemen at the inn, that Mr. +Craik was going to preach a funeral sermon. He did not wish, he said, to +take them by surprise--he felt that they would wish to know. In his +secret soul he believed that the old men would not come to hear it--he +hoped they would not, because their absence would enable him more freely +to speak of the misfortunes of the deceased. + +But they did come. The manner of their coming was thought by the +congregation to be an acknowledgment that they felt their fault. They +did not look any one in the face; but with brows bent down, and eyes on +the ground, they went to the places given them in the family pew, and +when morning prayers were over and the text was given out, as still as +stones they sat and listened. + +"Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like +his." + +The sermon was more full of eulogy than was in good taste, but the +ladies of the family did not find it so; they wept passionately--so did +many of the congregation, but the two sons, though their hands might +plainly be seen to tremble, maintained a deep, distressed immobility, +and because it was neither right to upbraid them to their faces, nor to +judge them publicly, a piece of the sermon which concerned Madam +Melcombe's sorrow, caused by their desertion, was mercifully left out. + +That was the last the people saw of the brothers; they went away almost +before it was light on Monday morning, and for a long time after, their +faces, their words, and their every attitude, remained the talk of the +place. + +In the meantime, John Mortimer and Valentine had a very pleasant little +excursion. As soon as they were out of the presence of their fathers, +they naturally threw off any unusual gravity of demeanour, for though +suitable to a solemn funeral, this might well pass away with it, as +their grandmother had been a total stranger to them. + +John hired horses, and they rode about the country together to see the +rosy apple orchards; they inspected an old Roman town, then they went +and looked at some fine ruins, and otherwise they enjoyed themselves for +three days; for John had plenty of money, and Valentine was far from +suspecting that not many months before his own father had dispossessed +him, with himself, of an ample fortune and a good inheritance. He had +always been brought up to understand that his father was not well off, +and that he would have to work for his place in the world. John's place +was made already--lucky for him! Lucky for Valentine, too, for John was +very liberal to his young relative, and had taken him about with him +more than once before. + +So the first few days after the reading of that will were passed by +Valentine in very good spirits, and with much self-gratulation on things +in general. John invited him to stay at his house till his father came +home, and Valentine accepting, they reached their station, and John was +at once received into the bosom of his family, that is to say, he was +pushed and pulled with difficulty into a very large carriage so +excessively full of young Mortimers that it was perfectly impossible to +add Valentine also. + +"What did you bring them all for?" said John, falling foul of the +servants in a momentary fit of impatience, while they sat smiling all +over him. + +"Well, sir, they were all inside the carriage and out of it ready, +before even we put the horses to. We didn't know which to pull out," +answered the coachman, grinning. + +John Mortimer's house was only reached by a country lane; and to all +appearances (though it was situated but two miles from the small town of +Wigfield), it was buried in the depths of the country. It was a +thoroughly unreasonable house, appearing outside to be more than half of +it roof, the stables being so arranged as to seem almost imposing in +comparison with it. + +These stables ran down at right angles with the house, their windows and +doors below, being on the further side. But a story had been added which +was made of long wooden shingles, and one of these shingles having been +removed to admit light and air, you might very often see seven round +faces in a row looking out there, for the opening overlooked every +window in the front of the house without exception. The long loft, which +was called "parliament," and had been annexed by the children, admitted +of their sending down cheerful greetings to their grandfather and other +friends; and it was interesting, particularly when there was company to +dinner, to watch their father sitting at the head of the table, and to +see the dishes handed round. + +The inside of the house was peculiar also. There was a very fine hall in +the centre, and a really beautiful old oak staircase wound round it, +being adorned with carving, and having a fine old fireplace on one of +the landings. This hall was the only good room in the house: on the +right of it were the kitchens and the kitchen offices, on its left was +the dining-room, which was a thoroughfare to the drawing-room, and +through that again you reached a pleasant library; John Mortimer's own +particular den or smoking room being beyond again. All these rooms had +thorough lights excepting the last, and in fine weather every one +entered them, back or front, from the garden. + +Up-stairs there were a great many bedrooms, and not one good one: most +of them had sloping roofs. Then there was a long school-room, with a +little staircase of its own. You could make a good deal of noise in that +room, and not be heard beyond it; but this circumstance is no particular +advantage, if your father has no nerves at all, and scarcely observes +whether there is a noise or not. + +John and Valentine Mortimer had a cheerful dinner, and after that a +riotous game at romps with the children. It was four days since the +funeral; it had now passed into the background of their thoughts, and +they concerned themselves very little further with the will of old Madam +Melcombe; for it must not be supposed that they knew much about her--not +half as much, in fact, as every man, woman, and child knew round about +the place where her house was situated. + +They knew she had had a large family of sons, and that their father and +uncle had left home early in life--had been _sent away_, was their +thought, or would have been if the question had ever been raised so as +to lead them to think about it. + +They were sent to Wigfield, which was about sixty miles from their home. +Here they had an old second cousin, of whom they always spoke with great +respect and affection. He took Augustus into his bank, and not only +became as fond of him as if he had been his son, but eventually left him +half of what he possessed. Daniel went into a lawyer's office, and got +on very well; but he was not at all rich, and had always let his son +know, that though there was an estate in the family, it never could come +to him. John having also been told this, had not doubted that there must +have been a family quarrel at some time or other; but in his own mind he +never placed it very far back, but always fancied it must be connected +with his uncle's first marriage, which was a highly imprudent and very +miserable one. + +Whatever it had arisen from, his father had evidently taken part with +his uncle; but old Augustus never mentioned the subject. John was aware +that he wrote to his mother once a year, but she never answered. This +might be, John thought, on account of her great age and her infirmities; +and that very evening he began to dismiss the subject from his mind, +being aided by the circumstance that he was himself the only son of a +very rich and loving father, so that anything the mother might have left +to her second surviving son was not a matter of the slightest importance +to her grandson, or ever likely to be. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +OF A FINE MAN AND SOME FOOLISH WOMEN. + + + "For life is like unto a winter's day, + Some break their fast and so depart away; + Others stay dinner, then depart full fed; + The longest age but sups, and goes to bed." + + Anon. + +Mr. John Mortimer, as has before been said, was the father of seven +children. It may now be added that he had been a widower one year and a +half. + +Since the death of his wife he had been his own master, and, so far as +he cared to be, the master of his household. + +This had not been the case previously: his wife had ruled over him and +his children, and had been happy on the whole, though any woman whose +house, containing four sitting-rooms only, finds that they are all +thoroughfares, and feels that one of the deepest joys of life is that of +giving dinner-parties, and better ones than her neighbours, must be held +to have a grievance--a grievance against architects, which no one but an +architect can cure. + +And yet old Augustus, in generously presenting this house, roof and all, +to his son, had said, "And, my dears, both of you, beware of bricks and +mortar. I have no doubt, John, when you are settled, that you and Janie +will find defects in your house. My experience is that all houses have +defects; but my opinion is, that it is better to pull a house down, and +build a new one, than to try to remedy them." + +Mr. Augustus Mortimer had tried building, rebuilding, and altering +houses more than once; and his daughter-in-law knew that he would be +seriously vexed if she disregarded his advice. + +Of course if it had been John himself that had objected, the thing would +have been done in spite of that; but his father must be considered, she +knew, for in fact everything depended on him. + +John had been married the day he came of age. His father had wished it +greatly: he thought it a fine thing for a man to marry early, if he +could afford it. The bride wished it also, but the person who wished it +most of all was her mother, who managed to make John think he wished it +too, and so, with a certain moderation of feeling, he did; and if things +had not been made so exceedingly easy for him, he might have attained +almost to fervour on the occasion. + +As it was, being young for his years, as well as in fact, he had hardly +forgotten to pride himself on having a house of his own, and reached the +dignified age of twenty-two, when Mrs. John Mortimer, presenting him +with a son, made a man of him in a day, and threw his boyish thoughts +into the background. To his own astonishment, he found himself greatly +pleased with his heir. His father was pleased also, and wrote to the +young mother something uncommonly like a letter of thanks, at the same +time presenting her with a carriage and horses. + +The next year, perhaps in order to deserve an equally valuable gift +(which she obtained), she presented her husband with twin daughters; and +was rather pleased than otherwise to find that he was glad, and that he +admired and loved his children. + +Mrs. John Mortimer felt a decided preference for her husband over any +other young man; she liked him, besides which he had been a most +desirable match for her in point of circumstances; but when her first +child was born to her she knew, for the first time in her life, what it +was to feel a real and warm affection. She loved her baby; she may have +been said, without exaggeration, to have loved him very much; she had +thenceforward no time to attend to John, but she always ruled over his +household beautifully, made his friends welcome, and endeared herself to +her father-in-law by keeping the most perfect accounts, never persuading +John into any kind of extravagance, and always receiving hints from +headquarters with the greatest deference. + +The only defect her father-in-law had, in her opinion, was that he was +so inconveniently religious; his religion was inconvenient not only in +degree but in kind. It troubled her peace to come in contact with states +of mind very far removed not only from what she felt, but what she +wished to feel. If John's father had set before her anything that she +and John could do, or any opinion that they might hold, she thought she +should have been able to please him, for she considered herself quite +inclined to do her duty by her church and her soul in a serious and +sensible manner; but to take delight in religion, to add the love of the +unseen Father to the fear and reverence that she wanted to cultivate, +was something that it alarmed her to think of. + +It was all very well to read of it in the Bible, because that concerned +a by-gone day, or even to hear a clergyman preach of it, this belonged +to his office; but when this old man, with his white beard, talked to +her and her husband just as David had talked in some of his psalms, she +was afraid, and found his aspiration worse to her than any amount of +exhortation could have been. + +What so impossible to thought as such a longing for intercourse with the +awful and the remote--"With my soul have I desired thee in the night;" +"My soul is athirst for God;" no, not so, says the listener who stands +without--I will come to his house and make obeisance, but let me +withdraw soon again from his presence, and dwell undaunted among my +peers. + +There is, indeed, nothing concerning which people more fully feel that +they cannot away with it than another man's aspiration. + +And her husband liked it. He was not afraid, as she was, of the old +man's prayers, though he fully believed they would be answered. + +He tried to be loyal to the light he walked in, and his father rested in +a trust concerning him and his, which had almost the assurance of +possession. + +She also, in the course of a few years, came to believe that she must +ere long be drawn into a light which as yet had not risen. She feared it +less, but never reached the point of wishing to see it shine. + +At varying intervals, Mrs. John Mortimer presented her husband with +another lovely and healthy infant, and she also, in her turn, received a +gift from her father-in-law, together with the letter of thanks. + +In the meantime her husband grew. He became first manly, more manly than +the average man, as is often the case with those who have an unusually +long boyhood. Then by culture and travel he developed the resources of a +keenly observant and very thoughtful mind. Then his love for his +children made a naturally sweet temper sweeter still, and in the course +of a very few years he had so completely left his wife behind, that it +never occurred to him to think of her as a companion for his inner life. +He liked her; she never nagged; he considered her an excellent +housekeeper; in fact, they were mutually pleased with one another; their +cases were equal; both often thought they might have been worse off, and +neither regretted with any keenness what they had never known. + +Sometimes, having much sweetness of nature, it would chance that John +Mortimer's love for his children would overflow in his wife's direction, +on which, as if to recall him to himself, she would say, not coldly, but +sensibly, "Don't be silly, John dear." But if he expressed gratitude on +her account, as he sometimes did when she had an infant of a few days +old in her arms, if his soul appeared to draw nearer to her then, and +he inclined to talk of deeper and wider things than they commonly spoke +of, she was always distinctly aggrieved. A tear perhaps would twinkle in +her eye. She was affected by his relief after anxiety, and his gratitude +for her safety; but she did not like to feel affected, and brought him +back to the common level of their lives as soon as possible. + +So they lived together in peace and prosperity till they had seven +children, and then, one fine autumn, Mrs. John Mortimer persuaded her +father-in-law to do up the house, so far as papering and painting were +concerned. She then persuaded John to take a tour, and went herself to +the sea-side with her children. + +From this journey she did not return. Their father had but just gone +quite out of her reach when the children took scarlet fever, and she +summoned their grandfather to her aid. In this, her first great anxiety +and trouble, for some of them were extremely ill, all that she had found +most oppressive in his character appeared to suit her. He pleased and +satisfied her; but the children were hardly better, so that he had time +to consider what it was that surprised him in her, when she fell ill +herself, and before her husband reached home had died in his father's +arms. + +All the children recovered. John Mortimer took them home, and for the +first six months after her death he was miserably disconsolate. It was +not because they had been happy, but because they had been so very +comfortable. He aggravated himself into thinking that he could have +loved her more if he had only known how soon he should lose her; he +looked at all their fine healthy joyous children, and grieved to think +that now they were his only. + +But the time came when he knew that he could have loved her much more if +she would have let him; and when he had found out that, womankind in +general went down somewhat in his opinion. He made up his mind, as he +thought, that he would not marry again; but this, he knew in his secret +heart, was less for her sake than for his own. + +Then, being of an ardently affectionate nature, and having now no one to +restrain it, he began to study his children with more anxious care, and +consider their well-being with all his might. + +The children of middle-aged people seem occasionally to come into the +world ready tamed. With a certain old-fashioned primness, they step +sedately through the paths of childhood. So good, so easy to manage, +so--uninteresting? + +The children of the very young have sometimes an extra allowance of +their father's youth in their blood. At any rate the little Mortimers +had. + +Their joy was ecstatic, their play was fervent, and as hard as any work. +They seemed month by month to be crowding up to their father, in point +of stature, and when he and they all went about the garden together, +some would be treading on his heels, the select two who had hold of his +arms would be shouting in his ears, and the others, dancing in front, +were generally treading on his toes, in their desire to get as near as +possible and inform him of all the wonderful things that were taking +place in this new and remarkable world. + +Into this family the lonely little heir of the Melcombes was shortly +invited to come for awhile, but for some trivial reason his mother +declined the invitation, at the same time expressing her hope that Mr. +Mortimer would kindly renew it some other time. + +It was not convenient to John Mortimer to invite the boy again for a +long time--so long that his mother bitterly repented not having accepted +the first invitation. She had an aunt living at Dartmouth, and whenever +her boy was invited by John Mortimer, she meant to bring him herself, +giving out that she was on her way to visit that relative. + +Who knew what might happen? + +Mr. John Mortimer was a fine man, tall, broad-shouldered, and +substantial-looking, though not at all stout. His perfect health and +teeth as white as milk made him look even younger than he was. His +countenance, without being decidedly handsome, was fine and very +agreeable. His hair was light, of the Saxon hue, and his complexion was +fair. + +Thus he had many advantages; but Mrs. Peter Melcombe felt that as the +mother of a child so richly endowed, and as the possessor of eight +hundred a year in order that he might be suitably brought up, she was a +desirable match also. She did not mean the boy to cost her much for +several years to come, and till he came of age (if he lived) she had +that handsome old house to live in. Old Augustus Mortimer, on the other +hand, was very rich, she knew; he was a banker and his only son was his +partner. Sure to inherit his banking business and probably heir to his +land. + +Mrs. Peter Melcombe had some handsome and becoming raiment made, and +waited with impatience; for in addition to Mr. John Mortimer's worldly +advantages she found him attractive. + +So did some other people. John Mortimer's troubles on that head began +very soon after the sending of his first invitation to Mrs. Melcombe, +when the excellent elderly lady who taught the little Mortimers (and in +a great measure kept his house) let him know that she could no longer do +justice to them. They got on so fast, they had such spirits, they were +so active and so big, that she felt she could not cope with them. +Moreover, the three eldest were exceptionally clever, and the noise made +by the whole tribe fatigued her. + +John sent his eldest boy to school, promised her masters to help her, +and an assistant governess, but she would not stay, and with her went +for a time much of the comfort of that house. + +Mr. Mortimer easily got another governess--a very pretty young lady who +did not, after a little while, take much interest in the children, but +certainly did take an interest in him. She was always contriving to +meet him--in the hall, on the stairs, in the garden. Then she looked at +him at church, and put him so out of countenance and enraged him, and +made him feel so ridiculous, that one day he took himself off to the +Continent, and kept away till she was gone. + +Having managed that business, he got another governess, and she let him +alone, and the children too, for they completely got the better of her; +used to make her romp with them, and sometimes went so far as to lock +her into the schoolroom. It was not till this lady had taken her leave +and another had been found that Mr. John Mortimer repeated his +invitation to little Peter Melcombe. His mother brought him, and +according to the programme she had laid down, got herself invited to +stay a few days. + +She had no trouble about it. Mr. John Mortimer no sooner saw Mrs. +Melcombe than he expressed a hospitable, almost a fervent hope, that she +could stay a week with him. + +Of course Mrs. Melcombe accepted the invitation, and he was very +sociable and pleasant; but she thought the governess (a very grand lady +indeed) took upon herself more than beseemed her, and smiled at her very +scornfully when she ventured to say sweet things to John Mortimer on her +own great love for children, and on the charms of his children in +particular. + +Peter was excessively happy. His mother's happiness in the visit was +soon over. She shortly found out that an elderly Scotch lady, one Miss +Christie Grant, an aunt of the late Mrs. Daniel Mortimer, was to come in +a few days and pay a long visit, and she shrewdly suspected that the +attractive widower being afraid to remain alone in his own house, made +arrangements to have female visitors to protect him, and hence the +invitation to her. But she had to leave Peter at the end of the week, +and which of the two ladies when they parted hated the other most it +might be difficult to determine. + +It cannot be said with truth that Peter regretted his mother's +departure. The quantity of mischief he was taught (of a not very heinous +description) by two sweet little imps of boys younger than himself, kept +him in a constant state of joyous excitement. His grandmother having now +been dead a year and a quarter, his mourning had been discarded, and his +mother had been very impressive in her cautions to him not to spoil his +new clothes, but before he had been staying with his young friends a +fortnight he was much damaged in his outer man, as indeed he was also in +his youthful heart, for the smallest of all the Mortimers--a lovely +little child about three years old--took entire possession of it; and +when he was not up a tree with the boys in a daring hunt after bergamy +pears, or wading barefoot in a shallow stream at the bottom of the +garden catching water-beetles, caddis-worms, and other small cattle for +a freshwater aquarium, he was generally carrying this child about the +garden pickaback, or otherwise obeying her little behests, and assuring +her of his unalterable love. + +Poor little Peter! After staying fully six weeks with the Mortimers his +time came to be taken home again, and his mother, who spent two days +with them on her way northwards, bore him off to the railway, +accompanied by the host and most of his children. Then he suddenly began +to feel the full meaning of the misfortune that had fallen on him, and +he burst into wailings and tears. His tiny love had promised to marry +him when she was grown up; his two little friends had given him some +sticklebacks, packed in wet moss; they were now in his pockets, as were +also some water-beetles in a paper bag; the crown of his cap was full of +silkworms carefully wrapped in mulberry leaves; but all these treasures +could not avail to comfort him for loss of the sweet companionship he +had enjoyed--for the apples he had crunched in the big dog's kennel +when hiding with another little imp from the nurse--for the common +possession they had enjoyed of some young rats dug out of the bank of +the stream, and more than all, for the tender confidences there had been +between them as to the endless pranks they spent their lives in, and all +the mischief they had done or that they aspired to do. + +John Mortimer having a keen sympathy with childhood, felt rue at heart +for the poor little blinking, sobbing fellow; but to invite him again +might be to have his mother also, so he let him go, handing in from his +third daughter's arms to the young heir a wretched little blind puppy +and a small bottle of milk to feed it with on the way. + +If anything could comfort a boy, this precious article could. So the +Mortimer boys thought. So in fact it proved. As the train moved off they +heard the sobs of Peter and the yelping of the puppy, but before they +reached their happy home he had begun to nurse the little beast in his +arms, and derive consolation from watching its movements and keeping it +warm. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE SHADOW OF A SHADE. + + + "The world would lose its finest joys + Without its little girls and boys; + Their careless glee and simple ruth, + And innocence and trust and truth; + Ah! what would your poor poet do + Without such little folk as you?" + + Locker. + +"Well, anyhow," observed Mr. Nicholas Swan, the gardener, when the +children came home and told him how Peter had cried--"anyhow, there's +one less on you now to run over my borders. He was as meek as Moses, +that child was, when first he came, but you soon made him as audacious +as any of you." + +"So they did, Nicholas dear," said one of the twins, a tall, dark haired +child. + +"Oh, it's Nicholas _dear_, is it, Miss Barbara? Well, now, what next?" + +"Why, the key of the fruit-house--we want the key." + +"Key, indeed! Now, there's where it is. Make a wry path through your +fields, and still you'll walk in it! I never ought to ha' got in the +habit of lending you that key. What's the good of a key if a man can +never keep it in his pocket? When I lived up at Mr. Daniel Mortimer's, +the children never had my key--never." + +"Well, come with us, then, and give us out the pears yourself. We won't +take one." + +Nicholas, with a twin on each side, and the other children bringing up +the rear, was now walked off to the fruit-house, grumbling as he went. + +"I left Mr. Mortimer's, I did, because I couldn't stand the children; +and now the world's a deal fuller of 'em than it was then. No, Miss +Gladys, I'm not a-going any faster; I wouldn't run, if it was ever so. +When the contrac' was signed of my wages, it was never wrote down that I +had to run at any time." + +And having now reached the fruit-house, he was just pulling out his big +key, when something almost like shame showed itself in his ruddy face, +as a decided and somewhat mocking voice addressed him. + +"Well, Nicholas, I'm just amazed at ye! I've lived upward of sixty years +in this island, Scotland and England both, and never did I see a man got +over so by children in my life! Talking of my niece's children, are +ye--Mrs. Daniel Mortimer's? I wonder at ye--they were just nothing to +these." + +Here Mr. Swan, having unlocked the door, dived into the fruit-house, and +occupied himself for some moments in recovering his self-possession and +making his selection; then emerging with an armful of pears, he shouted +after Miss Christie Grant, who had got a good way down the walk by this +time. + +"I don't deny, ma'am, that these air aggravating now and then, but +anyhow they haven't painted my palings pink and my door pea-green." + +Miss Christie returned. She seldom took the part of any children, +excepting for the sake of argument or for family reasons; and she felt +at that moment that the Daniel Mortimers were related to her, and that +these, though they called her "aunt," were not. + +"Ye should remember," she observed, with severity, "that ye had already +left your house when they painted it." + +"Remember it!" exclaimed the gardener, straightening himself; "ay, ay, I +remember it--coming along the lane that my garden sloped down to, so +that every inch of it could be seen. It had been all raked over, and +there, just out of the ground, growing up in mustard-and-cress letters +as long as my arm, I saw '_This genteel residence to let, lately +occupied by N. Swan, Esq._' I took my hob-nailed boots to them last +words, and I promise you I made the mustard-and-cress fly." + +"Well, ye see," observed Miss Christie, who was perfectly serious, +"there is great truth in your saying that those children did too much as +they pleased; but ye must consider that Mr. Mortimer didn't like to +touch any of them, because they were not his own." + +"That's just it, ma'am, and Mrs. Mortimer didn't like to touch any of +them because they _were her own;_ so between the two they got to be, I +don't say as bad as these, but--" Here he shook his head, and leaning his +back to the fruit-house door, began diligently to peel the fruit for an +assembly, silent, because eating. "As for Master Giles," he went on, +more to torment the old lady than to disparage the gentleman in +question, "before ever he went to school, he chalked a picture that he +called my arms on the tool house-door, three turnips as natural as life, +and a mad kind of bird flourishing its wings about, that he said was a +swan displayed. Underneath, for a _morter_, was wrote, 'All our geese +air swans.' Now what do you call that for ten years old?" + +"Well, well," said Aunt Christie, "that's nearly twenty years ago." + +Then the fruit being all finished, N. Swan, Esq., shut up his +clasp-knife, and the story being also finished, his audience ran away, +excepting Miss Christie, to whom he said-- + +"But I was fond of those children, you'll understand, though they were +powerful plagues." + +"Swan," said the old lady, "ye'll never be respectit by children. You're +just what ye often call yourself, _soft_." + +"And what's the good of being rough with 'em, ma'am? I can no more make +'em sober and sensible than I could straighten out their bushes of curly +hair. No, not though I was to take my best rake to it. They're powerful +plagues, bless 'em! but so far as I can see, we're in this world mainly +to bring them forrard in it. I remember when my Joey was a very little +chap, he was playing by me with a tin sword that he was proud of. I was +sticking peas in my own garden, and a great hulking sergeant came by, +and stopped a minute to ask his road. 'Don't you be afraid of me,' says +Joey, very kind. 'I won't hurt 'e.' That man laughed, but the water +stood in his eyes. He'd lost such a one, he said. Children air +expensive, but it's very cutting to lose 'em. I've never seen any of the +Mortimers in that trouble yet, though." + +"And you've been many a long year with them too," observed Miss +Christie. + +"Ay, ma'am. Some folks air allers for change, but I've known when I was +well off and they've known when they were well off." Mr. Swan said this +in a somewhat pragmatical tone, and continued, "There's nothing but a +long course of just dealing and respect o' both sides as can buy such +digging as this here family gets out of my spade." + +"Very true," said Miss Christie, who did not appear to see anything +peculiar in this self-eulogy. + +"But some folks forget," continued Mr. Swan, "that transplanted trees +won't grow the first year, and others want too much for their money, and +too good of its kind; but fair and softly, thinks I; you can't buy five +shillings with threepence-halfpenny in any shop that I ever heerd of; +and when you've earned half-a-crown you can't be paid it in gold." + +The next morning, while Peter sat at breakfast revolving in his mind the +delights he had lost, and wondering what Janie and Bertie and Hugh and +Nancy were about, these staunch little friends of his were +unconsciously doing the greatest damage to his future prospects--to +their most important part, as he understood them, namely, his chance of +coming to see the Mortimers again. + +Miss Christie Grant always presided over the school-room breakfast, and +John Mortimer, unless he had other visitors, breakfasted alone, +generally coming down just after his children's meal was over, and +having a selection of them with him morning by morning. + +On this occasion, just as he came down, his children darted out of the +window, exclaiming, "Oh, there's Mr. Brandon down the garden--Mr. +Brandon's come." + +John walked to the window, and looked out with a certain scrutinising +interest; for it was but a few weeks since a somewhat important visitor +had left old Daniel Mortimer's house--one concerning whom the +neighbourhood had decided that she certainly ought to become Mrs. Giles +Brandon, and that it would be an odd thing if Mr. Brandon did not think +so. If he did, there was every appearance that she did not, for she had +gone away all but engaged to his young brother Valentine. + +"He looks dull, decidedly dull, since Miss Graham left them," +soliloquised John Mortimer. "I thought so the last time I saw him, and +now I am sure of it. Poor fellow," he continued with a half smile. "I +can hardly fancy him a lover, but, if he does care for that graceful +little sea-nymph, it is hard on him that such a shallow-pated boy as +Valentine should stand in his light;" and he stepped out to meet his +guest, who was advancing in the midst of the children, while at the same +time they shouted up at the open schoolroom window that Nancy must come +down directly and see her godfather. + +The grand lady-governess looked out in a becoming morning costume. + +"A fine young man," she remarked to Miss Christie Grant. + +"Yes, that's my oldest nephew, St. George they call him. Giles Brandon +is his name, but his mother aye disliked the name of Giles, thought it +was only fit for a ploughman. So she called him St. George, and that's +what he is now, and will be." + +Miss Christie Grant said this with a certain severity of manner, but she +hardly knew how to combine a snubbing to the lady for her betrayal of +interest in all the bachelors round, with her desire to boast of this +relative. So she presently went on in a more agreeable tone. "His mother +married Mr. Daniel Mortimer; he is an excellent young man. Has no debts +and has been a great traveller. In short a year and a half ago he was +shipwrecked, and as nearly lost his life as possible. He was picked up +by Captain Graham, whose grand-daughter (no, I think Miss Graham is the +old gentleman's niece) has been staying this summer with Mr. Daniel +Mortimer. Mr. Brandon, ye'll understand, is only half-brother to +Valentine Mortimer, whom ye frequently see." + +Valentine was too young to interest the grand lady, but when by a +combined carelessness of manner with judicious questioning she had +discovered that the so-called St. George had a moderate independence, +and prospects besides, she felt a longing wish to carry down little +Anastasia herself to see her godfather, and was hardly restrained from +doing so by that sense of propriety which never forsook her. In the mean +time Brandon passed out of view into the room where breakfast was spread +and the little Anastasia, so named because her birth had taken place on +Easter day, was brought down smiling in her sister Barbara's arms. + +Peter's little love, a fair and dimpled creature, was forthwith +accommodated with a chair close to her godfather, while the twins +withdrew to practise their duets, and more viands were placed on the +table. + +The children then began to wait on their father and his guest, and +during a short conversation which ensued concerning Mrs. Peter Melcombe +and her boy, they were quite silent, till a pause took place and the +little Anastasia lifted up her small voice and distinguished herself by +saying-- + +"Fader, Peter's dot a dhost in his darden." + +"Got a ghost!" exclaimed John Mortimer, with a look of dismay; for +ghosts were the last things he wished his children to hear anything +about. + +"Yes," said the youngest boy Hugh, "he says he's going to be rather a +grand gentleman when he's grown up, but he wishes he hadn't got a +ghost." + +"Then why doesn't he sell it, Huey?" asked the guest with perfect +gravity. + +The little fellow opened his blue eyes wider. "I don't think you know +what ghosts are," he remarked. + +"Oh yes, I do," answered Brandon. "I've often read about them. Some +people think a good deal of them, but I never could see the fun of +having them myself, and," he continued, "I never noticed any about your +premises, John." + +"No," answered John Mortimer, following his lead; "they would be no use +for the children to play with." + +"Do they scratch, then?" inquired the little Anastasia. + +"No, my beauty bright, but I'm told they only wake up when it's too dark +for children to play." + +"Peter's ghost doesn't," observed Master Bertram. "He came in the +morning." + +"Did he steal anything?" inquired Brandon, still desirous, it seemed, to +throw dirt at the great idea. + +"Oh no, he didn't steal," said the other little boy, "that's not what +they're for." + +"What did he say then?" + +"He gave a deep sigh, but he didn't say _nothink_." + +"Ghosts," said Bertie, following up his brother's speech as one who had +full information--"ghosts are not birds, they don't come to lay eggs for +you, or to be of any use at all. They come for you to be afraid of. +Didn't you know that, father?" + +John was too much vexed to answer, and Peter's chance from that moment +of ever entering those doors again was not worth a rush. + +"But you needn't mind, father dear," said Janie, the eldest child +present, "Peter's ghost won't come here. It doesn't belong to 'grand,' +or to any of us. Its name was Melcombe, and it came from the sea, that +they might know it was dead." John and Brandon looked at one another. +The information was far too circumstantial to be forgotten by the +children, who continued their confidences now without any more +irreverent interruptions. "Mrs. Melcombe gave Peter four half-crowns to +give to nurse, and he had to say 'Thank you, nurse, for your kindness to +me;' but nurse wasn't kind, she didn't like Peter, and she slapped him +several times." + +"And Mrs. Melcombe gave some more shillings to Maria," said Bertie. + +"Like the garden slug," observed Brandon, "leaving a trail of silver +behind her." + +The said Maria, who was their little nursemaid, now came in to fetch +away the children. + +"Isn't this provoking," exclaimed John Mortimer, when they were gone. "I +had no notion that child had been neglected and left to pick up these +pernicious superstitions, though I never liked his mother from the first +moment I set my eyes on her." + +"Why did you ask her to stay at your house then?" said Brandon, +laughing. + +"Giles, you know as well as I do." + +Thereupon, having finished their breakfast, they set forth to walk to +the town, arguing together on some subject that interested them till +they reached the bank. + +Behind it, in a comfortable room fitted up with library tables, leather +chairs, and cases for books and papers, sat old Augustus Mortimer. +"Grand," as he was always called by his descendants, that being easier +to say than his full title of grandfather; and if John Mortimer had not +taken Brandon into this room to see him, the talk about the ghost might +have faded away altogether from the mind of the latter. + +As it was, Grand asked after the little ones, and Brandon, standing on +the rug and looking down on the fine stern features and white head, +began to give him a graphic account of what little Peter Melcombe had +been teaching them, John Mortimer, while he unlocked his desk and sorted +out certain papers, now and then adding a touch or two in mimicry of his +children's little voices. + +Old Augustus said nothing, but Brandon, to his great surprise, noticed +that as the narrative went on it produced a marked effect upon him; he +listened with suppressed eagerness, and then with a cogitative air as if +he was turning the thing over in his mind. + +The conclusion of the story, how Janie had said the name of the ghost +was Melcombe, John Mortimer related, for Brandon by that time was keenly +alive to the certainty that they were disturbing the old man much. + +A short silence followed. John was still arranging his papers, then his +father said deliberately,-- + +"This is the first hint I ever received of any presence being supposed +to haunt the place." + +The ghost itself had never produced the slightest effect on John +Mortimer. All he thought of was the consequence of the tale on the minds +of his children. + +"I shall take care that little monkey does not come here again in a +hurry," he remarked, at the same time proceeding to mend a quill pen; +his father watching him rather keenly, Brandon thought, from under his +bushy, white eyebrows. + +"Now, of all men," thought Brandon, "I never could have supposed that +Grand was superstitious. I don't believe he is either; what does it +mean?" and as there was still silence, he became so certain that Grand +would fain ask some more questions but did not like to do so, that he +said, in a careless tone, "That was all the children told us;" and +thereupon, being satisfied and willing to change the subject, as Brandon +thought, the old man said,-- + +"Does my brother dine at home to-day, St. George?" + +"Yes, uncle; shall I tell him you will come over to dinner?" + +"Well, my dear fellow, if you are sure it will be convenient to have +me--it is a good while since I saw him--so you may." + +"He will be delighted; shall I tell him you will stay the night?" + +"Yes." + +"Well done, father," said John, looking up. "I am glad you are getting +over the notion that you cannot sleep away from home. I'll come over to +breakfast, St. George, and drive my father in." + +"Do," said Brandon, taking his leave; and as he walked to the railway +that was to take him home, he could not help still pondering on the +effect produced by the mention of the ghost. He little supposed, +however, that the ghost was at the bottom of this visit to his +stepfather; but it was. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +AN OLD MAN DIGS A WELL. + + + "And travel finishes the fool." + + Gay. + +Mrs. Peter Melcombe, all unconscious of the unfavourable impression her +son had made on his late host, continued to think a good deal of the +agreeable widower. She made Peter write from time to time to little +Janie Mortimer and report the progress of the puppy, at the same time +taking care to mention his dear mamma in a manner that she thought would +be advantageous. + +It cost Peter a world of trouble to copy and recopy these epistles till +his mother was satisfied with them; but she always told him that he +would not be remembered so well or invited again unless he wrote; and +this was true. + +His little friends wrote in reply, but by no means such carefully-worded +letters; they also favoured him with shoals of Christmas cards and +showers of valentines, but his letters never got beyond the schoolroom; +and if John Mortimer's keen eyes had ever fallen on them, it would have +availed nothing. He would have discovered at once that they were not the +child's sole production, and would have been all the more decided not to +invite him again. + +When first Mrs. Melcombe came home she perceived a certain change in +Laura, who was hardly able to attend to Peter's lessons, and had fits +of elation that seemed to alternate with a curious kind of shame. Mrs. +Peter Melcombe did not doubt that Laura fancied she had got another +lover, but she was so tired of Laura's lovers that she determined to +take no notice; and if Laura had anything to say, to make her say it +without assistance. It seemed to her so right and natural and proper +that she should wish to marry again herself, and so ridiculous of Laura +to fancy that she wished to marry also. + +On Valentine's day, however, Laura had a letter, flushed high, and while +trying to look careless actually almost wept for joy; for the moment +Mrs. Melcombe was thrown off her guard, and she asked a question. + +Laura, in triumph, handed the valentine to her sister-in-law. "It's +strange," she said tremulously, "very strange; but what is a woman to do +when she is the object of such a passion?" + +It was a common piece of paper with two coloured figures on it taking +hands and smiling; underneath, in a clear and careful hand, was +written-- + + "What would he give, your lover true, + Just for one little sight of you? + + "J.S." + +"J.S.?" said Mrs. Melcombe, in a questioning tone. + +"It's Joseph, dear," replied Laura, hanging down her head and smiling. + +Joseph was the head plumber who had been employed about the now finished +house, and Mrs. Melcombe's dismay was great when she found that Joseph, +having discovered how the young lady thought he was in love with her, +was actually taking up the part of a lover, she dreaded to think what +might occur in consequence. Joseph was a very clever young workman, of +excellent character, and Laura was intolerably foolish and to the last +degree credulous. + +If the young man had been the greatest scamp and villain, but in her own +rank of life, it would have been nothing to compare with this, in the +eyes of Mrs. Melcombe, or indeed in most people's eyes. She turned pale, +and felt that she was a stricken woman. + +She was not well educated herself, and she had not been accustomed to +society, but she aspired to better things. The house was just finished, +she had written to Mr. Mortimer to tell him so. She thought of giving a +house-warming; for several of the families round, whose fathers and +mothers had been kept at arms' length by old Madam Melcombe till their +children almost forgot that there was such a person, had now begun +kindly to call on the lonely ladies, and express a wish to see something +of them. + +Also she had been rubbing up her boarding-school French, and hoped to +take a trip to Paris, for she wanted to give herself and her son all the +advantages that could be got with money. She knew there was something +provincial about herself and her sister-in-law, as there had been about +the old grandmother; and indeed about all the Melcombes. She wished to +rise; and oh what should she do, how could she ever get over it, if +Laura married the plumber? + +Her distress was such that she took the only course which could have +availed her--she was silent. + +"I was afraid, dear, you might, you would, you must think it very +imprudent," said Laura, a little struck by this silence; "but what is to +be done? Amelia, he's dying for me." + +Still Mrs. Melcombe was silent. + +"He told me himself, that if I wouldn't have him it would drive him to +drink." + +"Laura!" exclaimed Mrs. Melcombe with vehemence, "it's not credible that +you can take up with a lout who courts you in such fashion as that. O +Laura!" she exclaimed in such distress as to give real pathos to her +manner, "I little thought to see this day, I could not have believed it +of you;" and she burst into an agony of tears. + +"And here's a letter," she presently found voice enough to say, "here's +a letter from Mr. Mortimer, to say that his brother's coming to look at +the house. Perhaps Mr. John Mortimer will come with him. Oh, what shall +I do if they hear of this?" + +Laura was very much impressed. If scorn, or anger, or incredulity had +confronted her, she would have held to her intentions; but this alarm +and grief at least had the merit of allowing all importance to the +affair, and consequently to her. + +Her imagination conjured up visions of her sister-in-law's future years. +She saw her always wringing her hands, and she was touched for her. "And +then so happy as we meant to be, having a foreign tour, and seeing +Paris, and so as we had talked it over together. And such friends as we +always are." + +This was perfectly true; Mrs. Melcombe and Laura were not of the nagging +order of women, they never said sarcastic or ill-natured things to one +another, the foibles of the one suited the other; and if they had a few +uncomfortable words now and then between themselves, they had enough +_esprit de corps_ to hide this from all outsiders. + +An affecting scene took place, Laura rose and threw herself into +Amelia's arms weeping passionately. + +"You'll give it up, Laura dear, for my sake, and for our poor dear +Peter's sake, who's gone." + +No; Laura could not go quite so far in heroic self-sacrifice as that; +but she did promise solemnly, that however many times Joseph might say +he was dying for her, she would--what? She would promise to decide +nothing till she had been to Paris. + +She was very happy that morning; Amelia had not made game of her, and +there had been such a scene. Laura enjoyed a scene; and Amelia had +pleaded so hard and so long with her for that promise. At last she had +given it. If she had not been such a remarkably foolish woman, she would +have known she was glad on the whole that the promise had been extorted +from her. As it was she thought she was sorry, but after a little more +urging and pleading she gave up the precious valentine, and saw it +devoured by the flames. It had a Birmingham postmark, and Mrs. Melcombe +heard with pleasure that Joseph would be away at least a fortnight. + +Laura had wanted a little excitement, just the least amusement; and if +not that, just the least recognition of her place in nature as a woman, +and a young one. At present, her imagination had not been long at work +on this unpromising payer of the tribute. If some one, whose household +ways and daily English were like her own, had come forward she would +soon have forgotten Joseph; for he himself, as an individual, was almost +nothing to her, it was only in his having paid the tribute that his +power lay. + +Late in the afternoon Mr. Augustus Mortimer arrived. He was received by +Mrs. Melcombe almost, as it seemed, with the devotion of a daughter. + +The room was strewed with account-books and cards. It had been intended +that he should make some remark about them, and then she was to say, +with careless ease, "Only the accounts of the parish charities." But he +courteously feigning to see none of the litter, she was put out. + +He presently went to inspect the repairs and restorations, to look over +the garden and the stables; and it was not till the next morning that +she found occasion to ask some advice of him. + +The cottages on the land were let with the farms, so that the farmers +put their labourers into them, charged, it is true, very little rent, +but allowed them to get very much out of repair. It was the farmers' +duty to keep them in repair; but there was no agent, no one to make them +do it. Moreover, they would have it that no repairs worth mentioning +were wanted. Did Mr. Mortimer think if she spent the money she had +devoted to charity in repairing these cottages, she could fairly +consider that she had spent it in charity? + +It was a nice point, certainly, for it would be improving her son's +property, and avoiding disputes with valuable and somewhat unmanageable +tenants; and, on the other hand, it would be escaping the bad precedent +of paying for repairs out of the estate; so she went on laying this +casuistry before the old man while he pulled down his shaggy white +brows, and looked very stern over the whole affair. "Some of the poor +old women do suffer so sadly from rheumatism," she continued, "and our +parish doctor says it comes from the damp places they live in, and then +there is so much fever in the lower part of the hamlet." + +"You had better let me see the farmers and the cottagers," said old +Augustus. "I will go into the whole affair, and tell you what I think of +it." + +Accordingly he went his way among the people, and if he had any +sorrowful reason for being glad of what rendered it his duty to pick up +all the information he could, this did not make him less energetic in +fighting the farmers. + +Very little, however, could be done with them; an obvious hole in a roof +they would repair, a rotting door they would replace, but that was all, +and he felt strongly the impolicy of taking money out of the estate to +do all the whitewashing, plastering, carpenters' work, and painting that +were desirable; besides which, he was sure the water was not pure that +the people drank, and that they ought to have another well. + +When Mrs. Melcombe heard his report of it all, and when he acknowledged +that he could do hardly anything with the farmers, she wished she had +not asked his advice, particularly as he chose to bring certain +religious remarks into it. He was indeed a most inconveniently religious +man; his religion was of a very expensive kind, and was all mixed up +with his philanthropy, as if one could not be religious at all without +loving those whom God loved and as if one could not love them without +serving them to the best of one's power. + +She listened with dismay. If it was useless to expect much of the +farmers, and impolitic to take much out of the estate, what was the use +of talking? But Mr. Augustus Mortimer did talk for several minutes; +first he remarked on the expressed wish of his mother that all needful +repairs should be attended to, then he said his brother began to feel +the infirmities of age, and also was a poor man; then he made Mrs. +Melcombe wince by observing that the condition of the tenements was +perfectly disgraceful, and next he went on to say that, being old +himself, he did not wish to waste any time, for he should have but +little, and therefore as he was rich he was content to do what was +wanted himself. + +"This house," he continued, "is a great deal too large for the small +income your son will have. Very large sums have been spent, as the will +directed, in putting it into perfect repair. I am not surprised, +therefore, that you have felt perplexed, but now, if you have no +objection, I will have estimates made at once." + +Excessively surprised, a little humiliated, but yet, on the whole, +conscious that such an offer relieved her of a great responsibility, +Mrs. Peter Melcombe hesitated a moment, then said in a low voice-- + +"Thank you, Mr. Mortimer, but you will give me a little time to think of +this." + +"Certainly," he answered, with all composure, "till to-morrow morning;" +then he went on as if that matter was quite settled, and enough had been +said about it. "There is one person whom I should much like to point out +to you as an object for your charity--the old shepherd's wife who is +bedridden. If you were inclined to provide some one to look after +her----" + +"Oh, Becky Maddison," interrupted Mrs. Melcombe; "the dear grandmother +did not approve of that woman. She used to annoy her by telling an +absurd ghost story." + +"Indeed!" + +"But still, as you think I ought to do something for her, I certainly +will." + +"I shall go and see her myself this afternoon," answered Mr. Augustus +Mortimer hastily. "I will not fail to report to you how I find her." + +"Her talk was naturally painful to the dear grandmother," continued Mrs. +Melcombe. + +Mr. Mortimer looked keenly attentive, but he did not ask any question, +and as she said no more, he almost immediately withdrew, and walked +straight across the fields to the cottage of this old woman. + +Nothing more was said that evening concerning the repairs, or concerning +this visit; but the next morning Mr. Mortimer renewed his proposition, +and after a little modest hesitation, she accepted it; then, remembering +his request concerning old Becky, she told him she had that morning sent +her a blanket and some soup. "And, by-the-bye, Mr. Mortimer, did she +tell you the story that used to annoy the dear grandmother?" she +inquired. + +Mr. Mortimer was so long in answering, that she looked up at him, and +when he caught her eye he answered. "Yes." + +"He doesn't like it any more than his mother did," she thought, so she +said no more, and he almost immediately went away to give orders about +the proposed estimates. + +Mrs. Melcombe and Laura made Mr. Mortimer very comfortable, and when he +went away he left them highly pleased, for, having been told of their +intended journey to Paris, he had proposed to them to come and spend a +few days at his house, considering it the first stage of their tour. + +So he departed, and no more dirt was thrown at him. The tide began to +turn in favour of the Mortimers, people had seen the mild face and +venerable gentleness of the Mortimer who was poor, they had now handled +the gold of the one that was rich. + +"Old Madam was a saint," they observed, "but she couldn't come and look +arter us _hersen_, poor dear. Farmers are _allers_ hard on poor folk. So +he was bent on having another well atop o' the hill 'stead o' the +bottom. Why let him, then, if he liked! Anyhow, there was this good in +it--the full buckets would be to carry down hill 'stead of up. As to the +water o' the ould well being foul and breeding fevers, it might be, and +then again it might not be; if folks were to be for ever considering +whether water was foul, they'd never drink in peace!" + +The moment he was gone, Mrs. Melcombe turned her thoughts to Laura's +swain, and excited such hopes of pleasure from the visit to Paris in the +mind of her sister-in-law, that Joseph's devotion began to be less +fascinating to her, besides which there was something inexpressibly +sweet to her imaginative mind in the notion of being thwarted and +watched. She pictured to herself the fine young man haunting the lonely +glen, hoping to catch a sight of her, and smiting his brow as men do in +novels, sighing and groaning over his lowly birth and his slender means. +She wished Joseph would write that her sister-in-law might rob her of +the letter; but Joseph didn't write, he knew better. At the end of the +fortnight he appeared; coming to church, and sitting in full view of the +ladies, looking not half so well in his shining Sunday clothes of +Birmingham make, as he had done in his ordinary working suit. + +Laura was a good deal out of countenance, but Mrs. Melcombe perceived, +not without surprise, that while she felt nothing but a feminine +exultation in being admired, the young man's homage was both deep and +real. Nothing was either fancied or feigned. + +So by Monday morning Mrs. Melcombe had got ready a delightful plan to +lay before Laura--she actually offered to take her to London, and fired +her imagination with accounts of the concerts, the theatres and all +that they were to do and see. + +No mortal plumber could hold his own against such a sister-in-law. Laura +let herself be carried off without having any interview with Joseph, who +began to think "it was a bad job," and did not know how his supposed +faithless lady wept during the railway journey. But then he did not know +how completely when she went to her first oratorio she was delighted and +consoled. + +The longer they stayed in London the more delighted they were; so was +Peter; the Polytechnic alone was worth all the joys of the country put +together; but when they came back again at the end of April, and all the +land was full of singing-birds, and the trees were in blossom, and the +sweet smiling landscape looked so full of light, and all was so fresh +and still, then the now absent Joseph got hold of Laura's imagination +again; she went and gazed at the window that he had been glazing, when, +as she passed, he lifted up his fine eyes and looked at her in such a +particular manner. + +What really had taken place was this. Joseph, with a lump of putty in +his palm, was just about to dig a bit out of it with a knife that he +held in his other hand. Laura passed, and when the young man looked up, +she affected to feel confused, and turned away her face with a sort of +ridiculous self-consciousness. Joseph was surprised, and the knife held +suspended in his hand, he was staring at her when she glanced again, and +naturally he was a little put out of countenance. + +So Laura now walked about the place, recalled the romantic past, and if +Joseph had appeared (which he did not, because he had no means of +knowing that she had returned), it is highly doubtful whether Laura +would ever have seen Paris. + +As it was, with sighs and smiles, with regrets over a dead nosegay that +the young man had given her, and with eager longings to see Paris, and +perhaps Geneva, Laura spent the next fortnight, and then, taking leave +of Melcombe again, was received in due time by Mr. Augustus Mortimer on +the steps of his house, his son being with him. + +It was nearly dinner-time, she and her sister-in-law were delighted to +meet this gentleman, and find that he was going to dine that day with +his father. Peter, too, was as happy as a king, for he hoped Mr. John +Mortimer would and could give him information concerning all the +well-remembered puppies, kittens, magpies, and white mice that he had +made acquaintance with during his happy visit to the little Mortimers. + +Mr. Augustus Mortimer's house was just outside the small town of +Wigfield; it appeared to be quite in the country, because it was on the +slope of a hill, and was so well backed up with trees that not a chimney +could be seen from any of its windows. It was built with its back to the +town, and commanded a pretty view over field, wood, and orchard, and +also over its own beautiful lawn and slightly-sloping garden, which was +divided from some rich meadows by the same little river that ran nearly +two miles further on, past the bottom of John Mortimer's garden. "And +there," said John Mortimer, after dinner, pointing out a chimney which +could be seen against the sky, just over the tops of some trees--"there +lives my uncle Daniel, in a house which belongs to his stepson, Giles +Brandon; his house is just two miles from this, and mine is two miles +from each of them, so that we form a triangle." + +Mr. Mortimer's daughter came the next day to call on the relatives from +Melcombe; she brought his step-daughters with her; and these young +ladies when they returned home gave their step-brothers a succinct +account of the impressions they had received. + +"Provincial, both of them. The married one looks like a faded piece of +wax-work. Laura Melcombe is rather pretty, but unless she is a goose, +her manners, voice, and whole appearance do her the greatest injustice +possible." + +Mrs. Melcombe and Laura also gave judgment in the same manner when these +visitors were gone. + +"Mrs. Henfrey looks quite elderly. She must be several years past fifty; +but I liked her kind, slow way of talking; and what a handsome gown she +had on, Laura, real lace on it, and a real Maltese lace shawl!" + +"She has a good jointure," said Laura; "she can afford to dress well. +The girls, the Miss Grants, have graceful, easy manners, just the kind +of manners I should like to have; but I can't say I thought much of +their dress. I am sure those muslins must have been washed several +times. In fact, they were decidedly shabby. I think it odd and +old-fashioned of them always to call Mrs. Henfrey 'Sister.'" + +"I do not see that; she is older than their mother was; they could not +well address her by her Christian name. They do not seem to be a +marrying family, and that is odd, as their mother married three times. +The Grants are the children of the second marriage, are they not?" + +"Yes; but three times! Did she marry three times? Ah, I remember--how +shocking!" + +"Shocking," exclaimed Mrs. Melcombe, "O, Laura, I consider it quite +irreligious of you to say that." + +Laura laughed. "But only think," she observed, "what a number of names +one must remember in consequence of her three marriages. First, there is +Uncle Daniel's own daughter, Mrs. Henfrey; I do not mind her; but then +there is Mr. Brandon, the son of Aunt Mortimer's first husband; then +these Grants, the children of her second husband; and then Valentine, +uncle's son and hers by this third marriage. It's a fatigue only to +think of them all!" + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THEY MEET AN AUTHOR. + + + "People maybe taken in _once_, who imagine that an author is greater + in private life than other men. Uncommon parts require uncommon + opportunities for their exertion." + + Dr. Johnson. + +Mrs. Henfrey in taking leave of Amelia had expressed her pleasure at the +prospect of shortly seeing her again. They were all coming by invitation +to lunch, the next day, at her Uncle Augustus Mortimer's house, because +in the afternoon there was to be a horticultural show in the town. They +always went to these shows, she continued, and this one would have a +particular interest for them, as John Mortimer's gardener, who had once +been their gardener, was to carry off the first prize. "And if you ask +him what the prize is for," said one of the girls, "he will tell you it +is for 'airly 'tates.'" + +Accordingly the next day there was a gathering of Mortimers and their +families. Augustus Mortimer was not present, he generally took his +luncheon at the bank; but his son John, to Peter's delight, appeared +with the twins, and constituting himself master of the ceremonies, took +the head of the table, and desired his cousin Valentine to take the +other end, and make himself useful. + +Peter asked after his little love, Anastasia. + +"Oh, she is very happy," said Gladys Mortimer; "she and Janie have got a +WASH." + +"Got what?" asked Mrs. Henfrey. + +"A wash, sister," said Valentine. "I passed through the garden, and saw +them with lots of tiny dolls' clothes that they had been washing in the +stream spread out to bleach on the grass." + +"It's odd," observed Brandon, "that so wise as children are, they should +be fond of imitating us who are such fools." + +"Janie has been drawing from the round, in imitation of her sisters," +observed John Mortimer. "She brought me this morning a portrait of a +flat tin cock, lately bought for a penny, and said, 'I drew him from the +round, father.'" + +By this time the dishes were uncovered and the servants had withdrawn. +Laura was very happy at first. She had been taken in to luncheon by the +so-called St. George, he was treating her with a sort of deference that +she found quite to her mind, and she looked about her on these +newly-known relatives and connections with much complacency. There was +John Mortimer, with Amelia at his right hand, in the place of honour; +then there were the two Miss Grants (in fresh muslin dresses), with a +certain Captain Walker between them, whose twin brother, as Laura +understood, had married their elder sister. This military person was +insignificant in appearance and small of stature, but he was very +attentive to both the young ladies. Then there was Valentine, looking +very handsome, between Mrs. Henfrey and Miss Christie Grant, and being +rebuked by one and advised by the other as to his carving, for he could +not manage the joint before him, and was letting it slip about in the +dish and splash the white sauce. + +"You must give your mind to it more," said Mrs. Henfrey, "and try to hit +the joints." + +"It's full of bones," exclaimed Valentine in a deeply-injured voice. + +"Well, laddie," said Miss Christie, "and if I'm not mistaken, ye'll find +when you get more used to carving, that a breast of veal always is full +of bones." + +"Nobody must take any notice of him till he has finished," said +Brandon. "Put up a placard on the table, 'You are requested not to speak +to the man at the veal.' Now, Aunt Christie, you should say, 'aweel, +aweel,' you often do so when there seems no need to correct me." + +"Isn't it wonderful," observed Valentine, "that he can keep up his +spirits as he does, when only last week he was weighed in the columns of +the _Wigfield Advertiser and True Blue_, and expressly informed that he +was found wanting." + +"If you would only let politics alone," observed Mrs. Henfrey, "the +_True Blue_ would never interfere with you. I always did hate politics," +she continued, with peaceable and slow deliberation. + +"They are talking of some Penny Readings that St. George has been +giving," said John Mortimer, for he observed a look of surprise on +Laura's face. + +"'Our poet,' though, has let him alone lately," remarked Valentine. "Oh +I wish somebody would command Barbara to repeat his last effusion. I am +sure by the look in her eyes that she knows it by heart." + +"We all do," said John Mortimer's eldest daughter. + +"Ah! it's a fine thing to be a public character," observed her father; +"but even I aspire to some notice from the _True Blue_ next week in +consequence of having old Nicholas for my gardener." + +"I am very fond of poetry," said Laura simpering. "I should like to hear +the poem you spoke of." + +Thereupon the little girl immediately repeated the following verses:-- + + "If, dear friends, you've got a penny + (If you haven't steal one straight), + Go and buy the best of any + Penn'orth that you've bought of late. + + "At the schoolroom as before + (Up May Lane), or else next door + (As last Monday) at the Boar, + Hear the Wigfield lion roar. + + "What a treat it was, good lack! + Though my bench had ne'er a back, + With a mild respectful glee + There to hear, and that to see. + + "Sweetly slept the men and boys, + And the girls, they sighed meanwhile + 'O my goodness, what a voice! + O my gracious, what a smile!'" + +The man with no ear for music feels his sense of justice outraged when +people shudder while his daughter sings. Why won't they listen to her +songs as to one another's? There is no difference. + +With a like feeling those who have hardly any sense of humour are +half-offended when others laugh, while they seem to be shut out for not +perceiving any cause. Occasionally knowing themselves to be sensible +people, they think it evident that their not seeing the joke must be +because it is against them. + +Laura and Mrs. Melcombe experienced a certain discomfort here. Neither +would have been so rude as to laugh; in fact, what was there to laugh +at? They were shut out not only from the laugh, but from that state of +feeling which made these cousins, including the victim, enjoy it, +against one of themselves. + +As for Mrs. Henfrey, who also was without any perception of the humorous +side of things, she looked on with a beaming countenance; pleased with +them all for being in such good spirits, whatever might be the reason, +for, as she always expressed it, she did so love to see young people +happy. + +"It's capital," said John, but not so good as the prose reviewing they +give you; and all this most excellent fun we should lose, you know, +Giles, if you might have your way, and all sorts of criticism and +reviewing had to be signed with the writer's name." + +"But it would make the thing much more fair and moderate," said Brandon +"(not that I intended to include such little squibs as this); besides, +it would secure a man against being reviewed by his own rivals--or his +enemies." + +"Yes," said Valentine; "but that sort of thing would tell both ways." + +As he spoke with great gravity Mrs. Melcombe, mainly in the kind hope of +helping dear Laura's mistake into the background, asked with an air of +interest what he meant. + +"Well," said Valentine, with calm audacity, "to give an example. Suppose +a man writes something, call it anything you please--call it a lecture +if you like--say that it is partly political, and that it is published +by request; and suppose further that somebody, name unknown, writes an +interesting account of its scope and general merits, and it is put into +some periodical--you can call it anything you please--say a county +paper, for instance. The author is set in the best light, and the +reviewer brings forward also some of his own views, which is quite +fair----" + +As he seemed to be appealing to Laura, Laura said, "Yes; perfectly +fair." + +"His own views--on--on the currency or anything else you like to +mention." Here John Mortimer asked Mrs. Melcombe if she would take some +more wine, Valentine proceeding gravely: "Now do you or do you not think +that if that review had been signed by the lecturer's father, brother, +or friend almost as intimate as a brother, it would have carried more +weight or less in consequence?" + +As several of them smiled, Mrs. Melcombe immediately felt uncomfortable +again. + +"If what he said was true," she said, "I cannot exactly see----" and +here she paused. + +"Well," said John Mortimer, observing that the attention of his +keen-witted little daughter was excited, and being desirous, it seemed, +to give a plainer example of what it all meant, "let us say now, for +once, that I am a poet. I send out a new book, and sit quaking. The +first three reviews appear. Given in little they read thus:-- + +"One. 'He copied from Snooks, whose immortal work, "The Loves of the +Linendraper," is a comfort and a joy to our generation.' + +"Two. 'He has none of the culture, the spontaneity, the suavity, the +reticence, the _abandon_, the heating power, the cooling power, the +light, the shade, or any of the other ingredients referred to by the +great Small in his noble work on poesy,' + +"Three. 'This man doesn't know how to write his own language.' + +"As I am a poet, fancy my state of mind! I am horribly cast down; don't +like to go out to dinner; am sure my butler, having read these reviews, +despises me as an impostor; but while I sit sulking, in comes a dear +friend and brother-poet. 'How do you know,' says he, 'that Snooks didn't +write number one himself? Or perhaps one of his clique did, for whom he +is to do the same thing.' I immediately shake hands with him. This is +evidently his candid opinion, and I love candour in a friend; besides, +we both hate Snooks. 'And it is a well-known fact,' he continues with +friendly warmth, 'that Small's great work won't sell; how do you know +that number two was not written by a brother or friend of the +publisher's, by way of an advertisement for it?' By this time I am +almost consoled. Something strikes me with irresistible force. I +remember that that fellow Smith, who contested with me the election for +the borough of Wigfield in eighteen hundred and fifty or sixty, has +taken to literature. He was at the head of the poll on that occasion, +but my committee proving that he bribed, he lost his seat. I came in. It +was said that I bribed too; but to discuss that now would be out of +place. I feel sure that Smith must have written number three. In fact he +said those very words concerning me on the hustings." + +"Gladys," said Brandon, observing the child's deep attention, "it is +right you should know that the brother-poet had written a tragedy on +tin-tacks. Your father reviewed it, and said no family ought to be +without it." + +"But you didn't bribe father, and you didn't copy from Snooks, I am +sure," said Gladys, determined to defend her father, even in his assumed +character. + +"What was the name of your _thing_, papa?" asked Barbara. + +"I don't know, my dear, I have not considered that matter." + +"It was called 'The Burglar's Betrothal,'" said Valentine. + +"And do you think that Snooks really wrote that review?" she continued, +contemplating her father through her eyeglass, for she was shortsighted. + +"If you ask my sincere opinion, my dear, I must say that I think he did +not; but if some other man had signed it, I should have been sure. Which +now I never shall be." + +Here the door was slowly opened, and the portly butler appeared, bearing +in his own hands a fine dish of potatoes; from the same plot, he +remarked to John, with those that had obtained the prize. The butler +looked proud. + +"I feel as much elated," said John, "as if I had raised them myself. Is +Nicholas here?" + +"Yes, sir, and he has been saying that if the soil of your garden could +only be kept dry, they would be finer still." + +"Dry!" exclaimed Valentine, "you can't keep anything dry in such a +climate as this--not even your jokes." + +"Hear, hear," said John Mortimer; "if the old man was not a teetotaler, +and I myself were not so nearly concerned in this public recognition of +_our_ merits, I should certainly propose his health." + +"Don't let such considerations sway you," exclaimed Valentine rising. +"Jones, will you tell him that you left me on my legs, proposing his +health in ginger-pop--'Mr. Nicholas Swan.'" + +Mr. Nicholas Swan. Not one word of the ridiculous speech which followed +the toast was heard by Laura, nor did she observe the respectful glee +with which the butler retired, saying, "I think we've got a rise out of +the _True Blue_ now, sir. I'm told, sir, that the potatoes shown by the +_other side_, compared with these, seemed no bigger than bullets." + +Mr. Nicholas Swan. A sudden beating at the heart kept Mrs. Melcombe +silent, and as for Laura, she had never blushed so deeply in her life. +Joseph's name was Swan, and it flashed into her mind in an instant that +he had told her his father was a gardener. + +She sat lost in thought, and nervous, scarcely able to answer when some +casual remark was made to her, and the meal was over before she had +succeeded in persuading herself that this man could not be Joseph's +father, because her coming straight to the place where he lived was +_too_ improbable. + +"There goes Swanny across the lawn, father," said one of the twins, and +thereupon they all went to the bow-window, and calling the old man, +began to congratulate him, while he leaned his arms on the window-frame, +which was at a convenient height from the ground, and gave them an +account of his success. + +They grouped themselves on the seats near. Mrs. Melcombe took the chair +pushed up for her where, as John Mortimer said, she could see the view. +Laura followed, having snatched up a book of photographs, with which she +could appear to be occupied, for she did not want to attract the +gardener's attention by sitting farther than others did from the window; +and as she mechanically turned the leaves, she hearkened keenly to +Swan's remarks, and tried to decide that he was not like Joseph. + +"The markiss, sir? Yes, sir, his gardener, Mr. Fergus, took the best +prize for strawberries and green peas. You'll understand that those +airly tates were from seedlings of my own--that's where their great +merit lies, and why they were first. They gave Blakis the cottagers' +prize for lettuce; that I uphold was wrong. Said I, 'Those lettuce heads +that poor Raby shows air the biggest ever I set my eyes on,' 'Swan,' +says Mr. Tikey, 'we must encourage them that has good characters.' +'Well, now, if you come to think, sir,' says I, 'it's upwards of ten +years since Raby stole that pair of boots,' and I say (though they was +my boots) that should be forgot now, and he should have the cottagers' +prize, but stealing never gets forgiven." + +"Because it's such an inconvenient vice to those that have anything to +lose," said Miss Christie. + +"Yes, that's just it, ma'am. You see the vices and virtues have got +overhauled again, and sorted differently to suit our convenience. +Stealing's no worse _probly_ in the eyes of our Maker than lying and +slandering; not so bad, mayhap, as a deep _sweer_. But folks air so +tenacious like, they must have every stick and stone respected that they +reckon theirs." + +"We shouldn't hear ye talking in this _pheelosophical_ way," said Miss +Christie, "if yere new potatoes had been stolen last night, before ye +got them to the show." + +Laura took a glance at the gardener, as, with all the ease of intimacy, +he leaned in at the window and gave his opinion on things in general. He +was hale, and looked about sixty years of age. He was dressed in his +Sunday suit, and wore an orange bandana handkerchief loosely tied round +his neck. He had keen grey eyes. Joseph's eyes were dark and large, and +Joseph was taller, and had a straighter nose. + +"Swan's quite right," remarked Valentine; "we are a great deal too +tenacious about our belongings. Now I've heard of a fellow who was +waiting about, to horsewhip another fellow, and when this last came out +he had a cane in his hand. His enemy snatched it from him, and laid it +about his back as much as he liked, split it and broke it on him, and +then carried off the bits. Now what would you have done, Swan, in such a +case?" + +"Well, sir, in which case? I can't consider anyhow as I could be in the +case of him that was whipped." + +"I mean what would you have done about the cane?--the property? A +magistrate had to decide. The man that had been horsewhipped said the +other had spoilt his cane, which was as good as new, and then had stolen +it. The other said he did not carry off the cane till it had been so +much used that it was good for nothing, and he didn't call that +stealing." + +"Well, sir," said Mr. Swan, observing a smile on the face of one and +another, "I think I'll leave that there magistrate to do the best he can +with that there case, and I'll abide by his decision." + +"When ye come out in the character of Apollo," said Miss Christie to +Valentine, "ye should compose yourself into a grander attitude, and not +sit all of a heap while ye're drawing the long-bow. Don't ye agree with +me, Mrs. Melcombe?" + +Mrs. Melcombe looked up and smiled uneasily; but the gardener had no +uncomfortable surmises respecting her, as she had respecting him, and +when he caught her eye he straightened himself up, and said with +pleasant civility, while putting on his hat on purpose to touch it and +take it off again, "'Servant, ma'am; my son Joseph has had a fine spell +of work, as I hear from him, at your place since I saw you last autumn, +and a beautiful place it is, I'm told." + +Mrs. Melcombe answered this civil speech, and John Mortimer said, "How +is Joseph getting, on, Swan?" + +"Getting on first-rate, thank you kindly, sir," replied Swan, leaning +down into his former easy attitude, and keeping his Sunday hat under his +arm. + +"That boy, though I say it, allers was as steady as old Time. He's at +Birmingham now. I rather expect he'll be wanting to _settle_ shortly." + +As he evidently wished to be asked a further question, Mrs. Henfrey did +ask one. + +"No, ma'am, no," was the reply; "he have not told me nor his mother the +young woman's name; but he said if he got her he should be the luckiest +fellow that ever was." Here, from intense confusion and shyness, Laura +dropped the book, St. George picked it up for her, and nobody thought of +connecting the fall with the story, the unconscious Nicholas continuing. +"So thereby his mother judged that it would come to something, for +that's what a young chap mostly says when he has made up his mind; but I +shall allers say, sir," he went on, "that with the good education as I +gave him, it's a pity he took to such a poor trade. He airly showed a +bent for it; I reckon it was the putty that got the better of him." + +"Ah," said John Mortimer, "and I only wonder, Swan, that it didn't get +the better of me! I used to lay out a good deal of pocket-money in it at +one time, and many a private smash have I perpetrated in the panes of +out-houses, and at the back of the conservatory, that I might afterwards +mend them with my own putty and tools. I can remember my father's look +of pride and pleasure when he would pass and find me so quietly, and, as +he thought, so meritoriously employed." + +And now this ordeal was over. The gardener was suffered to depart, and +the ladies went up-stairs to dress for the flower-show. + +"Oh, Amelia!" exclaimed Laura, pressing her cold hands to her burning +cheeks, "I feel as if I almost hated that man. What business had he to +talk of Joseph in that way?" + +Amelia, on the contrary, was very much pleased with Swan, because he had +clearly shown that he was ignorant of this affair. "He seems a very +respectable person," she replied. "His cottage, I know, is near the end +of John Mortimer's garden. I've seen it; but I never thought of asking +his name. It certainly would be mortifying for you to have to go and +stay there with him and Joseph's mother. I suppose, though, that the +Mortimers would have to call." + +Amelia felt a certain delight in presenting this picture to Laura. + +"I would never go near them!" exclaimed Laura, very angry with her +sister-in-law. + +"Why not?" persisted Amelia, determined to make Laura see things as they +were. "You could not possibly wish to divide a man from his own family; +they have never injured you." + +"Oh that he and I were on a desert island together," said Laura. She had +often said that before to Amelia. She now felt that if Joseph's father +and mother were there also, and there was nobody else to see, she should +not mind their presence; besides, it would be convenient, they would act +almost as servants. + +Amelia very seldom had intuitions; but one seemed to visit her then. "Do +you know, Laura, it really seems to me _less shocking_ that you should +be attached to Joseph (if you are, which I don't believe), than that you +should be so excessively ashamed of it, with no better cause." + +This she said quite sincerely, having risen for the moment into a +clearer atmosphere than that in which she commonly breathed. It was a +great advance for her; but then, on the other hand, she had never felt +so easy about the result as that old man's talk had now made her. Laura +never could do it! + +So off they set to the flower-show, which was held under a large tent in +a field. Laura heard the hum and buzz about her; the jolly wives of the +various gardeners and florists admiring their husbands' prizes; the band +of the militia playing outside; Brandon's delightful voice--how she +wished that Joseph's was like it!--all affected her imagination; +together with the strong scent of flowers and strawberries and trodden +grass, and the mellow light let down over them through the tent, and the +moving flutter of dresses and ribbons as the various ladies passed and +repassed, almost all being adorned with little pink and blue flowers, +if only so much as a rose-bud or a forget-me-not--for a general election +was near, and they were "showing their colours" (a custom once almost +universal, and which was still kept up in that old-fashioned place). + +Wigfield was a droll little town, and in all its ways was intensely +English. There was hardly a woman in it or round it who really and +intelligently concerned herself about politics; but they were all +"blues" or "pinks," and you might hear them talk for a week together +without finding out which was the Liberal and which was the Conservative +colour; but the "pinks" all went to the pink shops, and the "blues" +would have thought it WRONG not to give their custom to those tradesmen +who voted "blue." + +You might send to London for anything you thought you wanted; but the +Marchioness herself, the only great lady in the neighbourhood, knew +better than to order anything in Wigfield from a shop of the wrong +colour. + +The "pinks" that day were happy. "Markiss," in the person of his +gardener, had three prizes; "Old Money-Bags" (Mr. Augustus Mortimer's +name at election time) had two prizes, in the person of his son's +gardener; in fact, the "pinks" triumphed almost at the rate of two to +one, and yet, to their immortal honour, let it be recorded that the +"blues" said it was all fair. + +John Mortimer shortly went to fetch his father, and returned with him +and all his own younger children. Mr. Mortimer had long been allowed to +give three supplementary prizes, on his own account, to some of the +exhibitors who were cottagers, and on this occasion his eyes, having +been duly directed by his son, were observed to rest with great +admiration on the big lettuces. Raby's wife could hardly believe it when +she saw the bright sovereign laid on the broad top of one of them; while +Mr. Swan, as one of the heroes of the day, and with Mrs. Swan leaning on +his arm, looked on approvingly, the latter wearing a black silk gown +and a shawl covered with fir-cones. She was a stout woman, and had been +very pretty--she was supposed by her husband to be so still. On this +occasion, pointing out the very biggest and brightest bunch of +cut-flowers he saw, Mr. Swan remarked complacently-- + +"They remind me of you, Maria." + +"And which on 'em came from our garden, dear," said Mrs. Swan, meaning +which came from Mr. John Mortimer's garden. + +Swan pointed out several. "Mr. Fergus came to me yesterday, and said he, +'We want a good lot of flowers to dress up the tent. You'll let us have +some?' 'Certain,' said I; 'we allers do.' Then he marches up to my +piccotees. 'Now these,' said he, 'would just suit us. We could do very +well with pretty nigh all of 'em.' 'Softly,' said I; 'flowers you'll +have; but leave the rest to me. If I'm to have one of my teeth drawn, +it's fair I should say which.' Yes, William Raby air improved; but I +shall allers say as nothing ever can raise that idle dog Phil. Raby. I +don't hope for folks that take parish pay." + +The said William Raby came in the evening and brought the big +vegetables, wrapped in an old newspaper, for Mr. Mortimer's acceptance, +and when the old man came out into his hall to speak to him, Raby said-- + +"It wer' not only the money. My wife, _her_ feels, too--when a man's +been down so long--as it does him a sight o' good to get a mouthful o' +pride, and six penn'orth o' praise to make him hold his head up." + +"St. George was dull yesterday," observed John Mortimer, when he and his +father were alone the next morning in the bank parlour. "He was not like +himself; he flashed out now and then, but I could see that it was an +effort to him to appear in good spirits. I thought he had got over that +attachment, for he seemed jolly enough some time ago." + +"When does he sail for Canada?" asked the old man. + +"At the end of this week, and I believe mainly for the sake of having +something to do. It is very much to be lamented that my uncle did not +manage to make him take up some profession. Here are his fine talents +almost wasted; and, besides that, while he is running about on his +philanthropic schemes, Valentine steals the heart of the girl he loves." + +"But," said his father, "I think the young fellow is quite unconscious +that St. George likes her." + +"My dear father, then he has no business to be. He ought to know that +such a thing is most probable. Here is St. George shipwrecked, floating +on a raft, and half starved, when this impudent little yacht, that +seems, by the way she flies about, to know the soundings of all harbours +by special intuition--this impudent little yacht comes and looks round +the corner of every wave, and actually overhauls the high seas till she +finds him, and there the first time he opens his eyes is that sweet, +quaint piece of innocence leaning over him. He is shut up with her for +ten days or so; she is as graceful as a sylph, and has a tender sort of +baby face that's enough to distract a man, and I don't see how he could +possibly leave that vessel without being in love with her, unless some +other woman had already got hold of his heart. No, even if St. George +did not know himself that he cared for her, he ought to have been +allowed time to find it out before any one else spoke. And there is Val +in constant correspondence with her, and as secure as possible!" + +Conversation then turned to the Melcombes. Old Augustus spoke uneasily +of the boy, said he looked pale, and was not grown. + +"He gets that pallor from his mother," said John. "I should not like to +see any of my children such complete reproductions of either parent as +that boy is of her. Family likeness is always strongest among the +uncultivated, and among lethargic and stupid people. If you go down into +the depths of the country, to villages, where the parents hardly think +at all, and the children learn next to nothing, you'll find whole +families of them almost exactly alike, excepting in size." + +His father listened quietly, but with the full intention of bringing the +conversation back to Peter as soon as he could. + +"It is the same with nations," proceeded John, "those who have little +energy and no keen desire for knowledge are ten times more alike in +feature, complexion, and countenance than we are. No! family likeness is +all very well in infancy, before the mind has begun to work on the face; +but as a man's children grow, they ought to be less and less alike every +year." + +"That little fellow," said the father, "seems to me to be exactly like +what he was a year ago." + +"I observe no change." + +"Do you think he is an average child, John?" + +John laughed. "I think that little imp of mine, Hughie, could thrash +him, if they chose to fight, and he is nearly three years the younger of +the two. No, I do not think he is an average child; but I see nothing +the matter with him." + +Grand was not exempt from the common foibles of grandfathers, and he was +specially infatuated in favour of the little Hugh, who was a most +sweet-tempered and audacious child, and when his son went on, "Those two +little scamps are getting so troublesome, that they will have to be sent +to school very shortly," he said, almost in a grumbling tone, "They're +always good enough when they're with _me_." + +So, in course of time, Mrs. and Miss Melcombe set forth on their +travels; it was their ambition to see exactly the same places and things +that everybody else goes to see, and they made just such observations on +them as everybody else makes. + +In the meantime Brandon, not at all aware that several people besides +John Mortimer had noticed that he was out of spirits--Brandon also +prepared to set forth on his travels. He had persuaded several families +to emigrate, and had also persuaded himself that he must go to their +destination himself, that he might look out for situations for them, and +settle them before the winter came on. He was very busy for some days +arranging his affairs; he meant to be away some time. Mr. Mortimer knew +it--perhaps he knew more, for he said not a word by way of dissuasion, +but only seemed rather depressed. The evening, however, before Brandon +was to start, as, at about eight o'clock, he sat talking with his +step-father, the old man lifted up his head and said to him-- + +"You find me quite as clear in my thoughts and quite as well able to +express them as usual, don't you, St. George?" + +"Yes," answered the step-son, feeling, however, a little dismayed, for +the wistful earnestness with which this was said was peculiar. + +"If you should ever be asked," continued Daniel Mortimer, "you would be +able to say that you had seen no signs of mental decay in me these last +few months?" + +"Yes, I should." + +"Don't disturb yourself, my dear fellow. I am as well as usual; better +since my illness than I was for some time before. I quite hope to see +you again; but in case I do not, I have a favour to ask of you." + +The step-son assured him with all affection and fervour that he would +attend to his wish, whatever it might be. + +"I have never loved anything that breathed as I loved your mother," +continued the old man, as if still appealing to him, "and you could +hardly have been dearer to me if you had been my own." + +"I know it," said Brandon. + +"When you were in your own study this morning at the top of the +house----" + +"Yes, my liege?" + +"I sent Valentine up to you with a desk. You were in that room, were you +not?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"A small desk, that was once your mother's--it has a Bramah lock." + +"I noticed that it had, and that it was locked." + +"What have you done with it?" + +"Valentine said you wished me to take particular care of it, so I locked +it into my cabinet, where my will is, as you know, and where are most of +my papers." + +"Thank you; here is the key. You think you shall never forget where that +desk is, Giles?" + +"Never! such a thing is quite impossible." + +"If I am gone when you return, you are to open that desk. You will find +in it a letter which I wrote about three years ago; and if I have ever +deserved well of you and yours, I charge you and I implore you to do +your very best as regards what I have asked of you in that letter." + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +SIGNED "DANIEL MORTIMER."--CANADA. + + + "The log's burn red; she lifts her head + For sledge-bells tinkle and tinkle, O lightly swung. + 'Youth was a pleasant morning, but ah! to think 'tis fled, + Sae lang, lang syne,' quo' her mother, 'I, too, was young.' + + "No guides there are but the North star, + And the moaning forest tossing wild arms before, + The maiden murmurs, 'O sweet were yon bells afar, + And hark! hark! hark! for he cometh, he nears the door.' + + "Swift north-lights show, and scatter and go. + How can I meet him, and smile not, on this cold shore? + Nay, I will call him, 'Come in from the night and the snow, + And love, love, love in the wild wood, wander no more.'" + +An hour after the conversation between Brandon and old Daniel Mortimer, +they parted, and nothing could be more unlike than his travels were and +those of the Melcombes. First, there was Newfoundland to be seen. It +looked at a distance like a lump of perfectly black hill embedded in +thick layers of cotton wool; then as the vessel approached, there was +its harbour, which though the year was nearly half over, was crackling +all over with brittle ice. Then there was Halifax Bay, blue as a great +sapphire, full of light, and swarming with the spawn of fish. And there +was the Bras d'Or, boats all along this yellow spit of sand, stranded, +with their sails set and scarcely flapping in the warm still air; and +then there was the port where he was to meet his emigrants, for they had +not crossed in the same ship with him; and after that there were wild +forests and unquiet waters far inland, where all night the noise of the +"lumber" was heard as it leaped over the falls; while at dawn was added +the screaming of white-breasted fowl jostling one another in their +flight as they still thronged up towards the north. + +We almost always think of Canada as a cold country. Its summer counts +for little; nor meadow-grass waist deep, over which swarms of mosquitoes +hover, tormenting man and horse; nor sunshine that blisters the face, +nor natural strawberry-grounds as wide as Yorkshire, nor a sky clearer, +purer, and more intensely blue than any that spans Italian plains. No; +Canada means winter, snow, quivering northern lights, log-fires, and +sledge-bells! + +Brandon found Canada hot, but when he had finished his work there, he +left it, and betook himself to the south, while it became the Canada of +our thought. + +He went through the very heart of the States, and pleased himself with +wild rough living in lands where the rich earth is always moist and +warm, and primeval forest still shelters large tracts of it. + +Camping out at night, sometimes in swampy hollows, it was strange to +wake when there was neither moon nor star, and see the great decaying +trees that storm had felled or age had ruined, glow with a weird +phosphorescent light, which followed the rents in them, and hovered +about the seams in their bark, making them look like the ghosts of huge +alligators prone in the places they had ravaged, and giving forth +infernal gleams. Stranger yet it was to see in the dark, moving near the +pine-wood fire, two feeble wandering lights, the eyes of some curious +deer that had come to gaze and wonder, and show its whereabouts by those +soft reflections. + +And then, when he and his companions wanted venison, it was strange to +go forth into the forest in the dark, two of them bearing a great iron +pot slung upon a long rod, and heaped with blazing pine-cones. Then +several pairs of these luminous spots would be seen coming together, and +perhaps a dangerous couple would glare down from a tree, and a wounded +panther would come crashing into their midst. + +After that, he went and spent Christmas in Florida. He had had frequent +letters from home and from his step-father. He wished to keep away till +a certain thing was settled one way or the other, but every letter +showed that it was still unsettled; the sea-nymph that he had been +wasting his heart upon had not yet decided to accept his brother's, but +there was every likelihood that she would. + +As time went on, however, he felt happy in the consciousness that +absence was doing its work upon him, and that change had refreshed his +mind. He was beginning to forget her. When the woman whom one loves is +to marry one's brother, and that brother happens to be of all the family +the one whom one prefers, what quality can be so admirable as +inconstancy? + +Still, for a man who was really forgetting, he argued the matter too +much in his mind. Even when he got far south, among the Florida keys, +and saw the legions of the heron and the ibis stalking with stately gait +along the wet sand, and every now and then thrusting in their "javelin +bills," spiking and bringing out long wriggling flashes of silver that +went alive down their throats, he would still be thinking it over. Yes; +he was forgetting her. He began to be in better spirits. He was in very +good spirits one day in January when, quite unknown to him, the snow was +shovelled away from the corner of a quiet churchyard in which his mother +slept, and room was made beside her for the old man who had loved him as +his own. + +Old Daniel Mortimer had no such _following_ as had attended the funeral +of his mother, and no such peaceful sunshine sleeping on a landscape all +blossom and growth. The wind raged, and the snow whirled all about his +grave and in it. The coffin was white before the first clod of earth was +thrown on it, and the mourners were driven out of the churchyard, when +the solemn service was over, by such gusts of storm and whirling wind as +they could hardly stand against. + +His will was read. He had hardly anything to leave. His directions were +very simple and few, and there was a little desk locked up in a cabinet +that nobody thought about, and that the one person who could have opened +it supposed to concern exclusively himself. So when he came, six months +after, and looked about him with regretful affection; when he had put +the old man's portrait up in a place of honour, and looked to the paying +of all the debts, for everything, even to the furniture, was now his +own; when he had read the will, and sealed up all such papers as he +thought his half-brother Valentine might afterwards want to refer to--he +betook himself to his own particular domain, his long room in the top of +the house. There, locking himself in, he opened his cabinet, and taking +out the little desk, sat down to look for and read this letter. + +The desk was soon opened. He lifted one half, saw several old miniatures +which had belonged to his own father's family, a lock of his father's +hair which he remembered to have seen in his mother's possession, and +one or two trinkets. No letter. + +It was not without some slight trepidation that he opened the other +side, and there, nothing else being with it, a large letter sealed with +black and directed to himself in his step-father's well-known hand, it +was lying. + +As he took the letter up, a sensation so faint, so ethereal that it is +hard to describe or characterize it, but which most of us have felt at +least once, came over him, or rather came about him, as if something +from without suggested a presence. + +He was free from any sensation of fear, but he chose to speak; lifting +up his face as if the old man had been standing before him, he said +aloud, "Yes, I promised." The feeling was gone as he spoke, and he broke +the seal. + +A long letter. His eyes, as it was folded, fell first on these +surprising words, "I forbade my mother to leave her property to me," and +then, "I have never judged her," the aged writer continued, "for in her +case I know not what I could have done." + +Brandon laid the letter down, and took a moment for thought, before he +could make up his mind to read it through. Some crime, some deep +disgrace, he perceived was about to be confided to him. With a hurried +sense of dislike and shrinking from acquaintance with it, he wondered +whether his own late mother had known anything of it, then whether he +was there called upon to divulge it now, and to act. If not, he argued +with himself, why was it to be confided to him? + +Then he addressed himself to his task, and read the letter through, +coming to its last word only to be still more surprised, as he perceived +plainly that beyond what he could gather from those two short sentences +already quoted, nothing was confided or confessed, nothing at all--only +a request was made to him, and that very urgently and solemnly, but it +concerned not himself, but his young brother Valentine, for not content +with repudiating the family property for himself, the old father was +desirous, it was evident, through his step-son, to stand in the way and +bar his own son's very remote chance of inheriting it either. + +A thing that is very unexpected and moderately strange, we meet with +wide-opened eyes, with a start and perhaps exclamations; but a thing +more than strange, utterly unaccounted for, quite unreasonable, and the +last thing one could have supposed possible as coming from the person +who demanded it, is met in far quieter fashion. + +Brandon leaned back in his chair and slowly looked about him. He was +conscious that he was drawing deeper breath than usual, and that his +heart beat quickly, but he was so much surprised that for the moment his +thoughts appeared to scatter themselves about, and he knew not how to +marshal them and make them help him as to what this might mean. + +Mystery in romance and in tales is such a common vulgar thing, in +tragedy and even in comedy it is so completely what we demand and +expect, that we seldom consider what an astonishing and very uncommon +thing it is when it appears in life. And here in a commonplace, +well-conducted, happy, and united family was a mystery pointing to +something that one of its best-loved members had never had a hint of. +Whatever it was, it concerned a place little more, than fifty miles off, +and a man in whose presence he had lived from his early childhood; the +utmost caution of secrecy was demanded, and the matter spoken of +entirely changed the notions he had always held concerning his +step-father, whom he had thought he knew better than any man living. +When one had believed that one absolutely understood another, how it +startles the mind to discover that this is a mistake! A beautiful old +man this had been--pious, not very worldly-wise, but having a sweetness +of nature, a sunny smile, and a native ease about him that would not +have been possible without a quiet conscience. This he had possessed, +but "I forbade my mother to leave her property to me." His step-son +turned back the page, and looked at those words again. Then his eyes +fell lower. "In her case I know not what I could have done." "When did +he forbid this--was it ten years ago, twenty years, fifty years? He was +really very well off when he married my mother. Now where did he get the +property that he lost by his speculations? Not by the law; his +profession never brought him in more than two hundred a year. Oh! he had +it from the old cousin that he and Grand often talk of, old John +Mortimer. And that's where the old silver plate came from. Of course, +and where John got his name. + +"We always knew, I think, that there was an aged mother; now why did I +take for granted that she must be in her second childhood? I wonder +whether John put that into my head. I think I did remark to him once +when I was a boy and he was living at home, that it was odd there was no +portrait of her in either of the houses. (But no more there is of Grand +now I come to think of it; John never could make him sit.) Before the +dear old man got so infirm he used generally to go out about once a year +and come back in low spirits, not liking to be questioned. He may have +gone then to see his mother, but I know sister used to think he went to +see the relations of that wretched woman, his first wife. Who shall say +now?" + +And then he sat down and thought and thought, but nothing came of his +thinking. Peter Melcombe, so far as he knew, was perfectly well; that +was a comfort. Valentine was very docile; that was also a comfort; and +considering that what his father had wished for him nearly four years +ago was actually coming to pass, and everything was in train for his +going to one of the very best and healthiest of our colonies, there +seemed little danger that even if Melcombe fell to him he should find +the putting it from him a great act of self-denial. + +And what a strange thing it was, Brandon thought, that through the force +of circumstances he himself should have been made to bring about such an +unlikely thing! That so young a man should want to marry was strange +enough. It was more strange that he should have fixed on the only woman +in the world that his brother wanted. This said brother had thought it +the very climax of all that was strange that it should have devolved on +him who had command of money and who knew the colonies, to make this +early marriage possible. But surely the climax of strangeness was +rather here, that he had all this time been working as if on purpose to +bring about the longing desire of his old step-father, which till then +he had never heard of, depriving Valentine as much as was possible of +his freedom, shutting him up to the course his father wanted him to +follow, and preparing to send him as far as in this world he could be +sent from the dreaded precincts of Melcombe. + +Brandon had devoted out of his moderate patrimony a thousand pounds each +to his step-brother and his step-sisters. In the case of Valentine he +had done more; he had in a recent visit to New Zealand bought some land +with a dwelling-house on it, and to this place it was arranged that +immediately on his marriage Valentine should sail. + +Brandon felt a strong desire to go and look at Melcombe, for his +step-father's conduct with regard to it kept coming back to his mind +with ever-fresh surprise; but though he searched his memory it could +yield him nothing, not a hint, not a look, from any one which threw the +least light on this letter. + +"But that there's crime at the core of it, or some deep disgrace," he +soliloquized, "appears to me most evident, and I take his assurance in +its fullest meaning that he had nothing to do with it." + +The next morning, having slept over the contents of the letter, he went +to his upper room, locked himself in, and read it again. Then after +pausing a while to reconsider it, he went up to the wall to look at a +likeness of Dorothea Graham. Valentine had a photographing machine, and +had filled the house with portraits of himself and his beloved. This was +supposed to be one of the best. "Lucky enough that I had the sense to +leave this behind me," thought Brandon. "Yes, you sweet thing, I am by +no means breaking my heart now about you and your love for that boy. You +are sure to marry him; you have a faithful heart, so the best thing for +him will be to let you marry as soon as possible. I'll tell him so as we +walk to John Mortimer's to-day. I'll tell him he may do it as soon as +he likes." + +Accordingly as about six o'clock he and Valentine walked through a wood, +across a common, and then over some fields, Brandon began to make some +remarks concerning the frequent letters that passed between these +youthful lovers. "It is not to be supposed," he observed, "that any lady +would correspond with you thus for years if she had not fully made up +her mind to accept you in the end." + +"No," answered Valentine with perfect confidence; "but she knows that I +promised my father to wait a few months more before I decidedly engaged +myself, but for that promise I was to have had an answer from her half a +year ago." + +Brandon fully believed that Dorothea Graham loved his brother, and that +her happiness was in his own hands. He had found it easy to put the +possibility of an early marriage in Valentine's way, but nothing could +well go forward without his sanction, and since his return he had +hitherto felt that the words which would give it were too difficult for +him to say. Now, however, that remarkable letter, cutting in across the +usual current of his thoughts, had thrown them back for awhile. So that +Dorothea seemed less real, less dear, less present to him. + +The difficult words were about to be said. + +"If she knows why you do not speak, and waits, there certainly is an +understanding between you, which amounts almost to the same thing." + +"Yes," said Valentine, "and in August, _as she knows_, I shall ask her +again." + +"Then," said Brandon, almost taking Valentine's breath away with sudden +delight, "I think, old fellow, that when she has once said 'yes,' you +had better make short work with the engagement; you will never be more +ready to marry than you are now; you are a few months older than John +was when he went and did it; and here you are, with your house in New +Zealand ready built, your garden planted, a flock of sheep bought, and +all there is to do is to turn out the people now taking care of the +place, as soon as you are ready to come in." + +Brandon was standing on a little plank which bridged a stream about two +feet wide; he had turned to say this, for Valentine was behind him. + +Valentine received the communication first with silence, then with a +shout of triumph, after which he ran completely round his brother +several times, jumping over the stream and flourishing a great stick +that he held, with boyish ecstasy, not at all dignified, but very +sincere. When he had made at least three complete circles, and jumped +the stream six times, Giles gravely walked on, and Valentine presently +followed, wiping his forehead. + +"Nobody could have expressed my own sentiments in more charming +English," he exclaimed; "I never heard such grammar in my life; what a +brick you are, St. George!" + +Giles had great faith in his theory that absence always cured love, also +in his belief that his was cured and half forgotten. At that moment he +experienced a sharp pang, however, that was not very like forgetfulness, +but which Valentine converted almost into self-scorn when he said-- + +"You know, Giles, she always did show the most undisguised liking for me +from our first meeting; and then look how constant she has been, and +what beautiful letters she writes, always trying, too, to improve me. Of +course I cannot even pretend to think she would not have engaged herself +to me months ago if I might have asked her." + +"All true, perfectly true," he thought to himself; "he loves her and she +loves him, and I believe if she had never met with Valentine, she would +still never have married me. What a fool I am!" + +"Why wouldn't you take this view of things yesterday, when I tried to +make you?" asked Valentine. + +"I was not ready for it," answered Giles, "or it was not ready for me." + +Thereupon they passed through a wicket-gate into a kind of glen or +wilderness, at the end of John Mortimer's garden, and beyond the stream +where his little girls acted Nausicaa and his little boys had preserves +of minute fishes, ingeniously fenced in with sticks and fine netting. + +"There's Grand," exclaimed Valentine, "they've brought him out to look +at their water-snails. What a venerable old boy he is! he looks quite +holy, doesn't he?" + +"Hold your tongue," said Brandon, "they'll hear you. He's come to see +their newts; they had a lot yesterday at the bottom of the punt. Little +Hugh had one in his hand, a beast with an orange breast, and it was +squinting up at him." + +It would be hard to say of any man that he is _never_ right. If he is +always thinking that he has forgotten a certain lady, surely he is right +sometimes. + +They went in to dinner, a party of four, for John Mortimer since his +wife's death did not entertain ladies, and Miss Christie Grant always +presided at an early dinner, when the governess and the children dined. + +As the dinner advanced St. George and Valentine both got into high +spirits, the former because a stronger conviction than usual assured him +that he was forgetting Dorothea Graham; the latter, because instead of +being pulled back, he had at last got a shove in the other direction. In +short, Valentine was so happy in his jokes and so full of fun, that the +servants had no sooner withdrawn than John Mortimer taxed him with +having good reason for being so, mentioned the probable cause, and asked +to see Miss Graham's portrait, "which, no doubt," he said, "you have got +in your pocket." + +"Why I have had that for years," said Valentine scornfully. + +"And dozens of them," said Brandon; "they took them themselves." + +"When is it to be?" asked old Grand with great interest. + +"I don't exactly know, uncle; _even Giles_ doesn't know that! If he had +known, I'm sure he would have told you, and asked your advice, for I +always brought him up to be very respectful to his elders." + +"Come, sir, come," said the old man laughing, "if you don't _exactly_ +know, I suppose you have a tolerably distinct notion." + +"I know when I should like it to be, and when I think D. would like it. +Not too late for a wedding tour, say October, now, or," seeing his +brother look grave, "or November; suppose we say November." + +"I'm afraid there is no wedding tour in the programme," observed +Brandon. "The voyage must be the tour." + +"Then I'll go without my cart. We must have a tour; it will be the only +fun I shall ever be able to give her." + +Valentine had inherited only about two hundred pounds from his father, +he having been left residuary legatee, and he was much more inclined to +spend this on luxuries than on necessaries. + +"You've bought me land, and actually paid for it yourself, and you've +bought me a flock, and made me a barn, and yet you deny me the very +necessaries of life, though I can pay for them myself! I must have a +tour, and D. must have a basket-carriage." + +"Well, my dear fellow," said Grand, "though that matter is not yet +settled, it is evident things are so far advanced that we may begin to +think of the wedding presents. Now, what would you like to have from me, +I wonder? I mean how would you prefer to have it? John and I have +already considered the amount, and he quite agrees with me as to what I +ought to give to my only brother's only son." + +"_Only brother's!_" The word struck Brandon both as showing that the +old man had almost forgotten other dead brothers, and also as evidently +being the preface to a larger gift than he had anticipated. + +"Thank you, uncle," said Valentine, almost accomplishing a blush of +pride and pleasure. "As you are so kind as to let me choose, I should +like your present in money, in my pocket, you know, because there is the +tour, and it would go towards that." + +"In your pocket!" exclaimed John Mortimer, with a laugh of such +amusement and raillery as almost put Valentine out of countenance. "Why, +do you think my father wants to give you a school-boy's tip?" + +"I think a good deal depends on the lady," said Grand, who also seemed +amused; "if she has no fortune, it might be wise to settle it on her; if +she has, you might wish to lay it out in more land, or to invest it +here; you and Giles must consider this. I mean to give you two thousand +pounds." Then, when he saw that Valentine was silent from astonishment, +he went on, "And if your dear father had been here he would not have +been at all surprised. Many circumstances, with which you are not +acquainted, assure me of this, and I consider that I owe everything to +him." There was a certain sternness about these words; he would have, it +was evident, no discussion. + +John Mortimer heard his father say this with surprise. "He must mean +that he owes his religious views to my uncle," was his thought; but to +Brandon, who did not trouble himself about those last words, the others +were full of meaning; the amount of the gift, together with the hint at +circumstances with which Valentine was not acquainted, made him feel +almost certain that the strange words, "I forbade my mother to leave her +property to me," alluded to something which was known to the next +brother. + +Valentine, at first, was too much surprised to be joyous, but he thanked +his uncle with something of the cordial ingenuousness and grace which +had distinguished his father. + +"I can have a tour _now_, can't I, old fellow," he said after a time to +his brother; "take my wife"--here a joyous laugh--"my WIFE on the +Continent; we shall go dashing about from place to place, you know, +staying at hotels, _and all that!_" + +"To be sure," said Brandon, "staying at hotels, of course, and ordering +wonderful things for breakfast. I think I see you now-- + + "'Happy married lovers, + Phillis trifling with a plover's + Egg, while Corydon uncovers + With a grace the Sally Lun.'" + +"That's the way this fellow is always making game of me," exclaimed +Valentine; "why I'm older than you were, John, when you married." + +"And wild horses shall never drag the words out of me that I was too +young," said John Mortimer, "whatever I may think," he continued. + +"John was a great deal graver than you are," said Brandon; "besides, he +knew the multiplication table." + +"So do I, of course," exclaimed Valentine. + +"Well," answered Brandon, "I never said you did not." + + + +CHAPTER X. + +CAUSES AND CONSEQUENCES. + + + "Now I am at a loss to know whether it be my hare's foot that is my + preservation; for I never had a fit of the collique since I wore it; + or whether it be my taking of a pill of turpentine every morning." + + _Diary of Mr. Samuel Pepys._ + +"John, the Melcombes have stayed on the Continent so much longer than I +expected that I hardly remember whether I told you I had invited them to +come round this way, and remain here a few days on their return." Old +Augustus Mortimer said this to his son, who was dining with him a few +days after the conversation concerning the wedding present. "I +supposed," he added, "that you would not invite that child or his mother +again?" + +John Mortimer replied, in clear and vigorous English, that he never +should--never! + +The manner in which he was looked after by the ladies had become quite a +joke in the family, though one of his chief tormentors had lately been +moved out of his way, Louisa Grant was married. Captain Walker had at +first, after Mr. Mortimer's death, agreed to wait for her till Brandon's +return; but his regiment being ordered abroad, he had induced her to +hasten the wedding, which took place about three months before Brandon +reached England. And as Louisa did not, out of respect to her +step-father, like to be married from his house so soon after his death, +old Grand had received and entertained all the wedding guests, and John +Mortimer had given away the bride. + +On that occasion it was confidently asserted by the remaining Miss Grant +and Valentine, that there were four ladies present who would at any time +with pleasure undertake to act the loving mother to dear John's seven +children. + +John was becoming rather sensitive; he remembered how sweetly Mrs. +Melcombe Had smiled on him, and he remembered the ghost story too. + +"I rather want to see how that boy is getting on," continued Augustus. + +"By-the-bye," said the son, "I heard to my surprise the other day from +Swan, whose son, it seems, was doing some work at Melcombe this spring +(making a greenhouse, I think), that Mrs. Melcombe wintered at Mentone, +partly on her boy's account, for he had a feverish or aguish illness at +Venice, and she was advised not to bring him to England." + +"I never heard of it," said Grand, with anxiety. + +"Nor I, my dear father; but I meant to have told you before; for I see +you take an interest in the child." + +"What imprudence!" continued Grand; "those people really have no sense. +I begged them particularly not to go to Venice in the autumn." + +"Yes," said John, "it was foolish; but Swan went on to say that he heard +the boy was all right again." + +"I hope so," replied Grand, almost fervently; "and his mother wants to +consult us now about his going to school." + +John could not forbear to smile when his father said "us." + +"So you have written to say you shall be glad to see them?" he inquired. + +"Yes; it is very little I ever see of my relations." + +John thought that perhaps his father's mind was turning with affection +towards his family, from whom he did not now doubt that he had been +estranged owing to some cause which had terminated with the old +mother's death. So he said cordially-- + +"Would you like, when Mrs. Melcombe goes home, to invite Laura to remain +with you for a few weeks? I have no doubt, if you would, that Lizzy +Grant would be charmed to come at the same time, and taste the sweetness +of freedom. The two girls could have the carriage, you know, and the +canoes, and the riding-horses. They might enjoy themselves very much, +and give croquet parties and picnics to their hearts' content. I would +get old Christie to come to you whenever a chaperone was wanted. She is +a most valuable possession, my dear father, but I would lend her." + +"You are very kind, my dear," answered the father, who often addressed +his son in this fashion when they were alone. "I think it would be a +pleasure to me to have the girls. You can't think, John, how cheerful +the house used to be before your sisters were married; you can hardly +remember it, you were so young." + +"Why did I never think of proposing such a visit to him before?" thought +John, almost with compunction. + +"I seem to know them pretty well," he answered, "from their letters and +from hearing you talk of them; but what I really remember, I believe, is +four grand young ladies who used to carry me a pick-a-back, and give me +sugared almonds." + +Of the four Miss Mortimers, the eldest had married a clergyman, and died +soon after; the second and third had married "shepherd kings," and were +living with the said kings in Australia; and the fourth was in India +with her husband and a grown-up family. Their father had given to each +of them an ample fortune, and parted with her before his only son was +five years old, for John Mortimer was fifteen years younger than his +youngest sister, and had been, though the daughters were much beloved, a +greater joy and comfort to his father than all four of them put +together. + +He was glad that his father showed this willingness to have Lizzy Grant +to stay in his house, for he was fond of all the Grants; there was a +kind of plain-spoken intimacy between him and them that he enjoyed. The +two elder had always been his very good friends, and during his wife's +lifetime had generally called him "John dear," and looked to him and his +wife to take them about whenever their brother was away. Liz, who was +rather a plain girl, he regarded more in the light of a niece than of a +step-cousin. + +A day or two after this, therefore, while sitting alone writing his +letters (Grand being gone out for his constitutional), when he was told +that Miss Grant wanted to speak to him, he desired that she might be +shown in. + +She was sitting at the back door in a little pony carriage, and giving +the reins to her boy, she passed through it, to the wonder of all +beholders. + +Very few young ladies were shown in there. + +"What is it?" exclaimed John, for Liz looked almost sulky. + +"Oh John," she answered, with a sort of whimsical pathos, "isn't it sad, +so few delightful things as there are, that two of them should come +together, so that I can't have both!" + +"What are the delightful things--offers?" + +"Don't be so tiresome. No, of course not. You know very well that +nothing of that kind ever happens to me." + +"Indeed, if that is the case, it can only be because your frocks are +almost always crumpled, and--what's that long bit of blue ribbon that I +see?" + +"It's all right--that's how it's meant to go. I can't think why you +fancy that I'm not tidy. St. George is always saying so too." + +"That's very hard. Well, child?" + +"I thought perhaps you knew that Grand had invited me to stay six weeks +at his house--Laura Melcombe to be there also, and we two to do just as +we liked. The whole of August, John, and part of September, and that's +the very time when I can't come, because we are going to be at the +seaside. Dorothea is to join us, you know, and if I do not see her then +I never shall, for they are to sail at Christmas." + +"There is a world of misery to be got out of conflicting pleasures," +said John philosophically. "You can't come, that's evident; and I had +just given orders that the new canoe should be painted and the old one +caulked. Two quiet ponies for you to drive (you are a very tolerable +whip, I know). As to the grapes, a house is being kept back on purpose +to be ripe just at that time; and the croquet balls are all sent to be +painted. Melancholy facts! but such is life." + +"No but, John----" + +"I'm extremely busy to-day." + +"Not so busy that you have not time to laugh at me. This would have been +almost the greatest pleasure I ever had." + +"And I've been reminding my father," proceeded John, "that when Emily +came to stay with him she always sat at the head of the table. She asked +him if she might, and so should you have done, because, though Laura is +a relation, he has known you all your life." + +"No but, John," repeated Lizzie, "can't you do something for me? Tell me +whether Laura Melcombe has been already invited?" + +"She has not, Miss Grant." + +"I have no doubt, if you asked Grand to let the visit be put off till +the middle of September, he would." + +"I shouldn't wonder." + +"Then you'll do it, won't you? because you know you and I have always +been such friends." + +"Now you mention it, I think we have; at any rate, I don't dislike you +half so much as I do some of my other friends. Yes, child, your +confidence is not misplaced." + +"Then I may leave the matter in your hands?" exclaimed Liz joyfully. + +"You really may," replied John Mortimer, and he took her back to the +pony carriage in a high state of bliss and gratitude. + +This change, however, which was easily effected, made a difference to +several people whom Miss Grant had no wish to disoblige. First, Mrs. +Melcombe, finding that Laura was invited to pay a long visit, and that +the invitation was not extended to her, resolved not to come home by +Wigfield at all; but when Laura wrote an acceptation, excused herself +from coming also, on the ground of her desire to get home. + +Grand, therefore, did not see Peter, and this troubled him more than he +liked to avow. Brandon was also disappointed, for he particularly wanted +to see the boy and his mother again. The strangeness of his +step-father's letter grew upon him, and it rather fretted him to think +that he could not find any plausible reason for going over to Melcombe +to look about him. He was therefore secretly vexed with his sister when +he found that, in consequence of her request to John, the plans of all +the Melcombes had been changed. So Liz with a cheerful heart went to the +sea-side with Mrs. Henfrey and Valentine, and very soon wrote home to +Miss Christie Grant that Dorothea had joined them, that the +long-talked-of offer had been made and (of course) accepted, and that +Giles was come. She did not add that Giles had utterly lost his heart +again to his brother's bride elect, but that she would not have done if +she had known it. + +Miss Christie was wroth on the occasion. + +"It's just shameful," she remarked. "Everybody knew Miss Graham would +accept him, but why can't she say how it was and when it was? She's +worse than her mother. 'Dear Aunt,' her mother wrote to me, 'I'm going +to marry Mr. Mortimer on Saturday week, and I hope you'll come to the +wedding, but you're not to wear your blue gown. Your affectionate niece, +EMILY GRANT.' That was every word she said, and I'd never heard there +was anything between her and Mr. Mortimer before." + +"And why were you not to wear your blue gown?" inquired John Mortimer. + +"Well," replied Miss Christie, "I don't deny that if she hadn't been +beforehand with me I might just slyly have said that my blue gown would +do, for I'd _only_ had it five years. I was aye thrifty; she knew it was +as good as ever--a very excellent lutestring, and made for her wedding +when she married Mr. Grant--so she was determined to take my joke +against her out of my mouth." + +If Miss Christie had not found plenty to do during the next six weeks, +she would have grumbled yet more than she did over her wrongs. As it +was, Master Augustus John Mortimer came home from school for his long +holidays, and he and his friends excited more noise, bustle, and +commotion in the house than all the other children put together. + +John Mortimer's eldest son, always called Johnnie, to distinguish him +from his father, was ridiculously big for his age, portentously clever +and keen-witted, awkward, blunt, rude, full of fun, extremely fond of +his father, and exceedingly unlike him in person. His hair was nearly +black, his forehead was square and high, his hands and feet almost +rivalled those of his parent in size, and his height was five feet +three. + +In any other eyes than those of a fond parent he must have appeared as +an awkward, noisy, plain, and intolerably active boy; but his father +(who almost from his infancy had pleased himself with a mental picture +of the manner of man he would probably grow into) saw nothing of all +this, but merely added in his mind two inches to the height of the +future companion he was to find in him, and wished that the boy could +get over a lisp which still disfigured some of his words. + +He brought such a surprising account of his merits with him--how he +could learn anything he pleased, how he never forgot anything, how, in +fact, his master, as regarded his lessons, had not a fault to find with +him, that when his twin sisters had seen it, there seemed to them +something strange in his being as fond of tarts and lollipops as ever. + +As for John, nothing surprised him. Miss Christie saw great diversities +in his children, but in regard to them all he showed an aggravating +degree of contentment with what Providence had sent him. Miss Christie +wore through Johnnie's sojourn at home as well as she could, and was +very happy when she saw him off to school again; happier still when +walking towards home across the fields with John Mortimer and the four +younger children, they saw Brandon and Valentine at a distance coming to +meet them. + +"So they are at home again," she exclaimed; "and now we'll hear all +about the wedding that is to be. I've been just wearying for the +_parteeculars_, and there never were such bad letter-writers as those +girls. Anyhow there'll be a handsome bridegroom." + +"Ah!" said John Mortimer, "all the ladies admire Val. He's quite a +woman's man." + +"Well, and St. George is a man's man, then," retorted Miss Christie; "ye +all admire him, I am sure." + +"And what are you, papa, dearest?" asked Janie, who had hold of his +hand. + +"I'm my own man, my little queen-regnant," answered her father with a +somewhat exultant laugh. + +"Ay, Mr. Mortimer, I'm just surprised at ye," quoth Miss Christie, +shaking her head over these vainglorious words. + +"I think father's the most beautifullest man of all," said little Janie, +with a sort of jealous feeling as if somehow he had been disparaged, +though she did not exactly know how. "And the goodest, too," she +presently added, as if not satisfied with her first tribute to him. + +Valentine, who was seldom out of countenance on any occasion, received +the congratulations of all the party with a certain rather becoming +pride and complacency. He seemed, however, to be taking things very +easily? but he presently became rather silent, and John, who felt keenly +that Brandon was not so indifferent to the bride-elect as he wished to +be, turned the conversation as soon as he could to other matters. There +was some talk about Valentine's land which had been bought for him in +New Zealand, after which Brandon said suddenly,-- + +"John, when this fellow is gone, or perhaps before, I mean to have +something to do--some regular work--and I think of taking to literature +in good earnest." + +"All right," answered John, "and as you evidently intend me to question +you, I will ask first whether you, Giles Brandon, mean to write on some +subject that you understand, or on one that you know nothing about?" + +Brandon laughed. "There is more to be said in favour of that last than +you think," he answered. + +"It may be that there is everything to be said; but if you practise it, +don't put your name to your work, that's all." + +"I shall not do so in any case. How do I know whether the only use +people may make of it (and that a metaphorical one) may not be to throw +it at me ever after." + +"I don't like that," said Miss Christie. "I could wish that every man +should own his own." + +"No," remarked John Mortimer; "if a man in youth writes a foolish book +and gives his name to it, he has, so far as his name is concerned, used +his one chance; and if, in maturer life, he writes something high and +good, then if he wants his wise child to live, he must consent to die +himself with the foolish one. It is much the same with one who has +become notorious through the doing of some base or foolish action. If he +repent, rise to better things, and write a noble book, he must not claim +it as if it could elevate him. It must go forth on its own merits, or it +will not be recognised for what it is, only for what he is or was. No, +if a man wants to bring in new thoughts or work elevating changes, he +must not clog them with a name that has been despised." + +"I think Dorothea and I may as well write a book together," said +Valentine. "She did begin one, but somehow it stuck fast." + +"You had better write it about yourselves, then," said John, "that being +nearly all you study just now, I should think. Many a novel contains the +author and little else. He explains himself in trying to describe human +nature." + +"Human nature!" exclaimed Valentine; "we must have something grander +than that to write of, I can tell you. We have read so many books that +turn it 'the seamy side outward,' and point out the joins as if it was a +glove, that we cannot condescend to it." + +"No," said John, setting off on the subject again as if he was most +seriously considering it, Valentine meanwhile smiling significantly on +the others. "It is a mistake to describe too much from within. The +external life as we see it should rather be given, and about as much of +the motives and springs of action as an intelligent man with good +opportunity could discover. We don't want to be told all. We do not know +all about those we live with, and always have lived with. If ever I took +to writing fiction I should not pretend to know all about my characters. +The author's world appears small if he makes it manifest that he reigns +there. I don't understand myself thoroughly. How can I understand so +many other people? I cannot fathom them. My own children often surprise +me. If I believed thoroughly in the children of my pen, they would +write themselves down sometimes in a fashion that I had not intended." + +"John talks like a book," observed Valentine. "You propose a subject, +and he lays forth his views as if he had considered it for a week. +'Drive on, Samivel.'" + +"But I don't agree with him," said Miss Christie. "When I read a book I +aye dislike to be left in any doubt what the man means or what the story +means." + +"I always think it a great proof of power in a writer," said Brandon, +"when he consciously or unconsciously makes his reader feel that he +knows a vast deal more about his characters than he has chosen to tell. +And what a keen sense some have of the reality of their invented men and +women! So much so that you may occasionally see evident tokens that they +are jealous of them. They cannot bear to put all the witty and clever +speeches into the mouths of these 'fetches' of their own imagination. +Some must be saved up to edge in as a sly aside, a sage reflection of +the author's own. There never should be any author's asides." + +"I don't know about that," John answered, "but I often feel offended +with authors who lack imagination to see that a group of their own +creations would not look in one another's eyes just what they look in +his own. The author's pretty woman is too often pretty to all; his wit +is acknowledged as a wit by all. The difference of opinion comes from +the readers. They differ certainly." + +"Even I," observed Valentine, "if I were an author's wit, might be voted +a bore, and how sad that would be, for in real life it is only right to +testify that I find little or no difference of opinion." + +He spoke in a melancholy tone, and heaved up a sigh. + +"Is cousin Val a wit?" asked little Hugh. + +"I am afraid I am," said Valentine; "they're always saying so, and it's +very unkind of them to talk about it, because I couldn't help it, could +I?" + +Here the little Anastasia, touched with pity by the heartfelt pathos of +his tone, put her dimpled hand in his and said tenderly, "Never mind, +dear, it'll be better soon, p'raps, and you didn't do it on purpose." + +"Does it hurt?" asked Hugh, also full of ruth. + +"Be ashamed of yourself," whispered Miss Christie, "to work on the dear +children's feelings so. No, my sweet mannie, it doesn't hurt a bit." + +"I'm very much to be pitied," proceeded Valentine. "That isn't all"--he +sighed again--"I was born with a bad French accent, and without a single +tooth in my head, or, out of it, while such was my weakness, that it +took two strong men, both masters of arts, to drag me through the +rudiments of the Latin grammar." + +Anastasia's eyes filled with tears. It seemed so sad; and the tender +little heart had not gone yet into the question of _seeming_. + +"They _teached_ you the Latin grammar did they?" said Bertram, who had +also been listening, and was relieved to hear of something in this list +of miseries that he could understand; "that's what Miss Crampton teaches +me. I don't like it, and you didn't either, then. I'm six and three +quarters; how old were you?" + +Before Valentine had answered, John and Brandon, finding themselves +before the party, had stopped and turned. Brandon was surprised to see +how earnestly the two elder children, while he talked, had been looking +at him, and then at their father and Valentine. At last, when this pause +occurred, and the two groups met, Janie said-- + +"I am sure papa is a great deal prettier than Mr. Brandon, and Cousin +Val looks quite ugly beside him." + +"Yes, Janie," said Bertram, with an air of high satisfaction, "papa's +much more beautiful than either of the others. I shall ask Miss +Crampton when I go in if she doesn't think so. You would like to know +what she thinks, wouldn't you, father?" + +John had opened his mouth to say no, when his better sense coming to his +aid, he forbore to speak. For this lady taught his children to +perfection, but his friends always would insist that she wanted to teach +him too--something that he wouldn't learn. + +Aunt Christie, his constant friend and champion, presently spoke for +him. + +"No, children," she said, as soon as she had composed her voice to a due +gravity, "it's natural ye should admire your father, good children +generally do, but, now, if I were you, I would never tell anybody at +all, not even Miss Crampton--do ye hear me, all of you? I would never +tell anybody your opinion of him. If ye do, they will certainly think ye +highly conceited, for ye know quite well that people say you four little +ones are just as exactly like him as ye can be." + +The children were evidently impressed. + +"In fact," said Valentine, "now I take a good look at him, I should say +that you are even more like him than he is himself--but--I may be +mistaken." + +"I won't say it then," said Bertram, now quite convinced. + +"And I won't, and I won't," added others, as they ran forward to open a +grate. + +"Cheer up, John," said St. George, "let us not see so much beauty and +virtue cast down. There's Miss Crampton looking out of the school-room +window." + +But though he laughed he did not deceive John Mortimer, who knew as well +as possible that the loss of Dorothea Graham pressed heavily on his +heart. + +"You two are going to dine with me, of course," he said, when all the +party had passed into the wilderness beyond his garden. + +"On the contrary, with your leave," answered Valentine, "we are going +to take a lesson of Swan in the art of budding roses. We cannot manage +it to our minds. We dined early." + +"And I suppose you will agree with Val," observed Brandon, "that a +rose-garden is one of the necessaries of life." + +"Dorothea must have one, must she, out in New Zealand? Well, Swan will +be proud to teach you anything he knows or doesn't know, and he will +give you an opinion if you ask it on any subject whatever." + +Accordingly John went into the house to dine, and perhaps it was in +consequence of this assertion that the two young men asked their old +friend's opinion on various points not at all in his line. Valentine +even told him that his brother intended to write a book, and asked him +what he thought it had better be about; whereupon Swan, while deftly +shaping his _bud_, shook his head gravely, and said that wanted a deal +of thinking over. + +"But if I was you, sir," he continued, speaking to Brandon, "I should +get Mr. Mortimer--Mr. John--to help you, specially if there's going to +be any foreign talk in it. My word, I don't believe there's any language +going that Mr. Mortimer can't lay his tongue to!" + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +WANTED A DESERT ISLAND. + + + "We, too, have autumns, when our leaves + Drop loosely through the dampened air; + When all our good seems bound in sheaves, + And we stand reaped and bare." + + Lowell. + +Laura and Mrs. Melcombe went home, and Laura saw the window again that +Joseph had so skilfully glazed. Joseph was not there, and Laura would +not have occupied herself with constant thoughts about him if there had +been anything, or rather anybody else to think of. She soon began to +feel low-spirited and restless, while, like a potato-plant in a dark +cellar, she put forth long runners towards the light, and no light was +to be found. This homely simile ought to be forgiven, because it is such +a good one. + +Peter was getting too old for her teaching. He had a tutor, but the +tutor was a married man, and had taken lodgings for himself and his wife +in one of the farm-houses. + +Laura had no career before her, and no worthy occupation. All that came +to pass in her day was a short saunter, or a drive, or a visit to the +market-town, where she sat looking on while her sister-in-law did some +shopping. + +Melcombe was six or seven miles from any _visitable_ families, excepting +two or three clergymen and their wives; it was shut up in a +three-cornered nook of land, and could not be approached excepting +through turn-pikes, and up and down some specially steep hills. These +things make havoc with country sociability. + +As long as there had been plenty to do and see, Laura had enjoyed her +life on the Continent, and had fed herself with hope. So many people as +passed before her, it would be strange, she thought, if not one of them +had been made for her, not one was to give her the love she wanted, the +devotion she knew she could return. + +It was certainly strange, and yet it came to pass, though the travelled +fool returned, improved in style, dress, and even in appearance, while +her conversation was naturally more amusing than before, for she had +seen most places and things that people like to talk of. + +Not one man had asked her to spend her life with him, and she came back +more given to flights of fancy than ever, but far better acquainted with +herself and more humble, for she had spent so much of her time (in +imagination) with Joseph that she had become accustomed to his slightly +provincial accent, and had ceased to care about it. Joseph, however, did +not speak like his good father, and he had been endowed with as much +learning as he would consent to acquire, Swan having felt a great +ambition to make him a certified schoolmaster, but Joseph having been at +an early age rather an idle young dog, had tormented his father into +letting him take to a mere handicraft, and had left school writing a +hand almost like copperplate, and being a very fair accountant, but +without thirst for knowledge, and without any worthy ambition. + +Laura had always known that nothing but a desert island was wanted, and +she could be his contented wife; but a desert island was not to be had, +such things are getting rare in the world, and she now thought that any +remote locality, where nobody knew her, would do. + +But where was Joseph? + +She had certainly gone away without giving him any interview, she had +persistently kept away, yet though she was doing what she could, by fits +and starts, to forget him, that perverse imagination of hers always +pictured _him_ as waiting, constant, ready. There was a particular tree +in the glen behind which she had so frequently represented him to +herself as standing patiently while she approached with furtive steps, +that when she came home and went to look at it, there was a feeling +almost akin to surprise in her mind at seeing the place drenched in +sparkling dew, and all overgrown with moss. Footsteps that are feigned +never tread anything down; they leave no print, excepting in the heart +that feigns them. + +When Laura saw this place in the glen, she perceived plainly that there +was no one with whom she might be humbly happy and poor--not even a +plumber! + +This form of human sorrow--certainly one of the worst--is not half +enough pitied by the happy. + +Of course Laura was a fool--nobody claims for her that she was not; but +fools are not rare, either male or female; as they arrange the world and +its ways in great measure, it is odd that they do not understand one +another better, and whether Laura showed her folly most or least in +thinking that she could have been obscurely happy as the wife of a man +who belonged to a different class of life from her own (she herself +having small intellectual endowments, and but little culture), is a +subject too vast, too overwhelming, for decision here; it ought to have +a treatise in twelve volumes all to itself. + +Mrs. Melcombe had come home also somewhat improved, but a good deal +disappointed. She had fully hoped and intended to marry again, because +her son, who was to live to be old, would wish to marry early, and her +future daughter-in-law would be mistress of the house. It was desirable, +therefore, that Peter's mother should not be dependent on him for a +home. She had twice been invited, while on the Continent, to change her +name; but in each case it would have been, in a worldly point of view, +very much to her disadvantage, and that was a species of second marriage +that she by no means contemplated. She did not want her second husband +to take her that she might nurse him in his old age, fast approaching, +and that he might live upon her income. + +So she came home _Mrs. Melcombe_, and she continued to be kind to Laura, +though she did not sympathize with her; and that was no fault of hers: +sympathy is much more an intellectual than a moral endowment. However +kind, dull, and stupid people may be, they can rarely sympathize with +any trouble unless they have gone through one just like it themselves. + +You may hear it said, "Ah, I can sympathize with him, poor fellow, for I +have a wooden leg myself," or, "Yes, being a widow, I know what a +widow's feelings are," and so on. + +No one has a right to blame these people; they are as kind as any; it is +not their fault that some are living among them to whom no experience at +all is necessary, and who not only could sympathize, but do in thought, +with the very angel that never fell, when they consider what it must be +to him if the mortal child he has to watch goes wrong; with the poor +weak drunkard who wishes he could keep sober, but feels, when he would +fain pass by it, that the gin-shop, like a devil-fish, sends forth long +tentacles and ruthlessly sucks him in; with the mother-whale, when her +wilful young one insists on swimming up the fiord, and she who has +risked her life to warn him must hear the thud of the harpoon in his +side; with the old tired horse, when they fetch him in from his sober +reverie in the fields, and put his blinkers on; with anything +else?--yes, with the bluebells, whose life above ground is so short, +when wasteful children tread them down;--these all feel something that +one would fain save them from. So perhaps does the rose-tree also, when +some careless boy goes by whooping in the joy of his heart, and whips +off her buds with his cane. + +Fruitful sympathy must doubtless have some likeness of nature, and also +a certain kindliness to found itself on; but it comes more from a +penetrative keenness of observation, from the patient investigations of +thought, from those vivid intuitions that wait on imagination, from a +good memory, which can live over again in circumstances that are +changed, and from that intelligent possession of the whole of one's +foregone life, which makes it impossible to ignore the power of any +great emotion or passion merely because it is past. Where these +qualities are there should be, for there can be, sympathy. + +Mrs. Melcombe was fond of her one child; but she had forgotten what her +own nature, thoughts, fears, and wishes, as well as joys, had been in +childhood. In like manner, as she was, on the whole, contented herself, +she not only thought that her own example ought to make Laura contented, +but she frequently pointed this out to her. + +The child is to the father and mother, who imparted life to him, and who +see his youth, the most excellent consolation that nature can afford +them for the loss of their own youth, and for the shortness of life in +themselves; but if a mother is therefore convinced that her child is a +consoler to those who have none, he is sure, at some time or other, to +be considered an unmitigated bore. + +Mrs. Melcombe often thought, "Laura has my child with her constantly to +amuse her, and has none of the responsibility about him that I have. +Laura goes to the shops with me, sees me give the orders, and I +frequently even consult her; she goes with me into the garden, and sees +the interest I take in the wall-fruit and the new asparagus-bed, and yet +she never takes example by me. She will eat just as many of these things +as I shall, though she often follows me about the place looking as if +she scarcely cared for them at all." + +Laura was pleased, however, to go to Wigfield and stay with Grand, and +have for a companion a careless, childish girl, who undertook with +enthusiasm to teach her to drive, and if old Grand wanted his horses, +would borrow any rats of ponies that she could get. + +Laura spent many happy hours with Liz and the Mortimer children, now +huddled into an old tub of a punt, eating cakes and curd for lunch, now +having a picnic in the wood, and boiling the kettle out of doors, and at +other times welcomed into the long loft called "Parliament;" but she +seldom saw John Mortimer himself, for Lizzie was always anxious to be +back in good time for dinner. She valued her place at the head of the +table, and the indulgent old Grand perceived this plainly. He liked +Laura well enough; but Liz was the kind of creature whom he could be +fond of. They were both foolish girls. Liz took no manner of pains to +improve herself any more than Laura did; but Laura was full of uneasy +little affectations, capricious changes of manner, and shyness, and Liz +was absolutely simple, and as confiding as a child. + +The only useful thing the girls did while they stayed with Grand was to +go into the town twice a week and devote a couple of hours to a coal and +clothing club, setting down the savings of the poor, and keeping the +books. This bi-weekly visit had consequences as regarded one of them, +but it was the one who did not care what happened; and they parted at +the end of their visit, having become a good deal attached to each +other, and intending to correspond as fully and frequently as is the +manner of girls. + +The intelligent mind, it may be taken for granted, is able to grasp the +thought that one may be a very fair, and even copious, letter-writer, +and yet show nothing like diffusiveness in writing to an ancient aunt. + +The leaves were all dropping when Laura came home, and was received into +the spirit of the autumn, breathing in that sense of silence that comes +from absence of the birds, while in still mornings, unstirred of any +wind, the leaves let themselves go, and the flowers give it up and drop +and close. She was rather sad; but she found amusement in writing to +Liz, and as the days got to their shortest, with nothing to relieve +their monotony, there was pleasure to be got out of the long answers, +which set forth how Valentine was really going to be married soon after +Christmas, and what Liz was going to wear, how Dorothea was coming down +to be married from Wigfield House, to please "sister," and how it would +all be such fun--"Only three weeks, Laura dear, to the delightful day!" +Finally, how Dorothea had arrived--and oh, such a lovely _trousseau_! +and she had never looked half so sweet and pretty before, "and in four +days, dear, the wedding is to be; eighty people to breakfast--only +think! and you shall be told all about it." + +Laura felt herself slightly injured when, a week after this, she had not +been told anything. She felt even surprised when another week passed, +and yet there was silence; but at the end of it, she came rushing one +morning into Amelia's room, quite flushed from excitement, and with an +open letter in her hand. + +"They're not married at all," she exclaimed, "Valentine and Miss Graham! +There has been no wedding, and there is none coming off. Valentine has +jilted her." + +"Nonsense," cried Mrs. Melcombe. "You must be dreaming--things had gone +so far," and she sat down, feeling suddenly weak from amazement. + +"But it is so," repeated Laura, "here is the whole account, I tell you. +When the time came he never appeared." + +"What a disgraceful shame!" exclaimed Amelia, and Laura proceeded to +read to her this long-expected letter:-- + +"Dearest Laura,--I don't know how to begin, and I hardly know what to +tell you, because I am so ashamed of it all; and I promised to give you +an account of the wedding, but I can't. What will you think when I tell +you that there was none? Valentine never came. I told you that Dorothea +was in the house, but that he had gone away to take leave of various +friends, because, after the wedding, they were to sail almost +immediately, and so,--I must make short work with this, because I hate +it to that degree. There was the great snowstorm, as you know, and when +he did not come home we thought he must be blocked up somewhere, and +then we were afraid he was very ill. At last when still it snowed, and +still he did not come, Giles went in search of him, and it was not till +the very day before the wedding that he got back, having found out the +whole detestable thing. + +"Poor Val! and we used to think him such a dear fellow. Of course I +cannot help being fond of him still, but, Laura, he has disgracefully +attached himself to another girl; he could not bear to come home and be +married, and he knew St. George would be in such a rage that he did not +dare to tell." + +"Young scamp!" exclaimed Amelia; "such a tall, handsome fellow to, who +would have believed it of him?" + +"Well, Laura dear, when I saw St. George come in, I was so frightened +that I fainted. Dorothea was quite calm--quite still--she had been so +all the time. It makes me cry to think what she must have felt, dear +sweet thing; but such a day as that one was, Laura, I cannot describe, +and you cannot imagine. The whole country was completely snowed up. St. +George had telegraphed to John Mortimer, from London, to be at our +house, if possible, by four o'clock, for something had gone wrong, and +his horses, because of the deep drift, overturned the phaeton into a +ditch. John rolled out, but managed to wade on to us; he was half +covered with snow when I came down just as light was failing, and saw +him in the hall stamping about and shaking the snow out of his pockets +and from his hair. I heard him sighing and saying how sad it was, for we +thought Val must be ill, till Giles came up to him, and in two minutes +told him what had happened. Oh I never saw anybody in such a fury as he +put himself into! I was quite surprised. He almost stuttered with rage. +What was the use either of his storming at Giles, as if he could help +it, or indeed any of us? And then sister was very much hurt, for she +came hurrying into the hall, and began to cry; she does so like, poor +thing, that people should take things quietly. And presently, grinding +and crunching through the snow, with four horses, came dear old Grand, +done up in comforters, in the close carriage. He had driven round the +other way; he knew something was wrong, and he came into the hall with +such trembling hands, thinking Val was dying or perhaps dead. And then +what a passion he got into, too, when John told him, it's no use at all +my trying to explain to you; he actually cried, and when he had dried +his eyes, he shook his fists, and said he was ashamed of his name. + +"It was very disagreeable for us, as you may suppose. It was dusk before +sister and St. George could get them to think of what we had to do. To +send and stop the bells from ringing early the next morning; to stop +several people who were coming by rail to dinner that day, and expecting +to sleep in the house on account of the unusual weather; to let Dick +A'Court know, and the other clergyman, who were to have married them; +and to prevent as many people as possible from coming to the breakfast, +or to the church; to stop the men who were making a path to it through +the drift--Oh you can't think what a confusion there presently was, and +we had four or five hired flys in the stable, ready to fetch our +friends, and take them to church, too; and there was such a smell all +over, of roasting things and baking things. Well, Laura, off we all set +into the kitchen, and sent off the hired men with the flys, and every +servant we had in the house, male or female--and Grand's men +too--excepting sister's little maid to attend to Dorothea. They went +with messages and letters and telegrams right and left, to prevent the +disgrace of any more people coming to look at us. And then, when they +were all gone, we being in the kitchen, John soon recollected how the +cook had begged us to be very particular, and put water every now and +then into the boiler, for the pipe that supplied it was frozen, and if +we didn't mind it would burst. So off he and Giles had to go into the +dark yard and get in some water, and then they had to fetch in coals for +the fires, and when John found that all the water in the back kitchen +was frozen, and there was none but what was boiling to wash his hands +in, he broke out again and denounced Val, and that minute up came the +carrier's cart to the back door, having rescued the four smallest +Mortimers and Aunt Christie and the nurse, who had been found stuck fast +in the sociable in a drift, and in the children burst, full of ecstasy +and congratulations, and thinking it the greatest fun in the world that +we should all be in the kitchen. And while Grand sat in low spirits at +one side of the fire, and they began to amuse themselves by pulling in +all the fish-baskets, and parcels, and boxes, and wedding presents, that +the carriers had left outside in the snow (because John wouldn't let +them come in and see us), St. George sat at the end of the dresser with +his arms folded, smoked a cigar, and held his peace. He must have been +very much tired, as well as disgusted, poor fellow, for he had been +rushing about the country for three days and nights; so he left all the +others to do just what they liked, and say what they liked. And very +soon the whole confusion got to its height, by the elder children coming +in and being told, and flying at John to condole and cry over him, and +entreat him not to mind. John, indeed! just as if we didn't care at all! +It was intended that all the children should sleep in our house, for it +is so near the church, and nothing could prevent the younger ones from +thinking it all the most glorious fun. What with having been stuck fast, +and then coming on in the cart and finding us in the kitchen, and having +supper there, they were so delighted that they could not conceal their +ecstasy. + +"As for little Anastasia, when the weights of the great kitchen clock +ran down, and it stopped with an awful sort of gasping click, I believe +she thought _that was the wedding_, for she ran up to St. George, who +still sat on the dresser, and said-- + +"'Shan't we have another one to-morrow?' + +"'No, you _stoopid_ little thing!' Bertie said. 'You know Cousin Val +won't come to do the marrying.' + +"'But somebody must,' she went on, 'else we can't have our new _nopera_ +cloaks and our satin frocks. Can't papa?' + +"'No, papa doesn't wish,' said Bertie; 'I asked him.' + +"'Then,' she said, looking up at St. George, and speaking in a very +pathetic tone, 'you will, _dear_, won't you? because you know you're so +kind.' + +"I just happened to glance at St. George then, and you can't think, +Laura, how astonished I was. He turned away his face, and sister, who +was standing close by, lifted up the child and let her kiss him. Then he +got down from the dresser and went away; but, Laura, if he had wished +more than anything in the world to marry Dorothea, he might have looked +just so. + +"Don't tell any one what I have said about this. Perhaps I was mistaken. +I will write again soon. + +"Ever affectionately yours, + +"Elizabeth Grant." + +"Well," said Mrs. Melcombe, "it's the most disgraceful thing I ever +heard of." + +"And here is a postscript," remarked Laura; "nothing particular, +though:--'P.S.--Dorothea was ill at first; but she is better. I must +tell you that dear old Grand, the next morning, apologized to sister for +having so lost his temper; he said it was the old Adam that was strong +in him still.'" + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +VALENTINE. + + + "If he had known where he was going to fall, he could have put down + straw."--_Russian Proverb._ + +Laura wrote with difficulty an answer to Lizzy Grant's letter. It is +easier for the sister to say, "My brother is a dishonourable young +fellow, and has behaved shamefully," than for the friend to answer +without offence, "I quite agree with you." + +But the next letter made matters in some degree easier, for it at least +showed the direction that his family gave to the excuses they now +offered for the behaviour of the young scapegrace. First, he had been +very unwell in London--almost seriously unwell; and next, Lizzy said she +had been quite right as to St. George's love for Dorothea, for he had +made her an offer before she left the house. + +"In fact," continued Liz, "we have all decided, so far as we can, to +overlook what Val has done, for he is deeply attached to the girl who, +without any fault of her own, has supplanted Dorothea. He is already +engaged to her, and if he is allowed to marry her early in the spring, +and sail for New Zealand, he is not likely ever to return; at any rate, +he will not for very many years. In that case, you know, Laura, we shall +only be with him about six weeks longer; so I hope our friends will +forgive us for forgiving him." + +"They are fond of him, that is the fact," observed Mrs. Melcombe; "and +to be sure the other brother, wanting to marry Miss Graham, does seem to +make some difference, some excuse; but as to his illness, I don't think +much of that. I remember when his old father came here to the funeral, I +remarked that Valentine looked overgrown, and not strong, and Mr. +Mortimer said he had been very delicate himself all his youth, and often +had a cough (far more delicate, in fact, than his son was); but he had +outgrown it, and enjoyed very fair health for many years." + +Then Laura went on reading:-- + +"Besides, we think that, though Dorothea refused St. George point blank +when he made her an offer, yet she would hardly write to him every week +as she does, if she did not like him, and he would hardly be so very +silent and reserved about her, and yet evidently in such good spirits, +if he did not think that something in the end would come of it." + +"No," said Mrs. Melcombe, laughing in a cynical spirit, "the ridiculous +scrape they are in does not end with Valentine. If he was really ill, +there could be no thought of his marriage with this other girl; and, +besides, Miss Graham (if this is true) will have far the best of the two +brothers. _St. George_, as they are so fond of calling him (I suppose +because Giles is such an ugly name), is far better off than Valentine, +and has ten times more sense." + +"Dorothea is gone to the Isle of Wight," continued Laura, finishing the +letter, "to live with some old friends. She has no relatives, poor girl, +excepting a father, who is somewhere at the other end of the world, and +he seems to take very little notice of her. There is, indeed, an old +uncle, but he lives at sea; he is almost always at sea in his yacht, and +her only brother sails with him; but nobody knows in the least where +they are now. It is very sad for her, and she told St. George, and +sister too, that she had only loved Val out of gratitude, because he +seemed so much attached to her, and because she wanted somebody to +devote herself to." + +In her next letter Liz told Laura that she herself was to be married +shortly to Dick A'Court, "who says he fell in love with me when we two +used to add up the coal-and-clothing cards." In these words, and in no +more, the information was imparted, and the rest of the letter was so +stiff and formal that Laura's pleasure in the correspondence ended with +it. The realities of life were beginning to make her child-friend feel +sober and reticent. + +Laura wrote a long effusive letter in reply, full of tender +congratulations on the high lot that awaited Liz as the helpmeet of a +devoted clergyman, also on the joys of happy lovers; but this +composition did not touch the feelings of Liz in the right place. "Just +as if I had not told her," she thought, "that Emily was come home from +India, and that I had consented to accept Dick partly to please her, +because she was sure I should be sorry for it afterwards if I didn't. So +I dare say I should have been," she continued thoughtfully. "In fact, I +am almost sure of it. But I know very well, whatever Emily may say, that +Dick will make me do just as he likes. I am sure I shall have to +practise those quire boys of his, and they will bawl in my ears and call +me teacher." + +So thinking, Liz allowed herself to drift towards matrimony without +enthusiasm, but with a general notion that, as most people were married +sooner or later, no doubt matrimony was the proper thing and the best +thing on the whole. "And I shall certainly go through with it, now I +have promised," she further reflected, "for it would never do for +another of us to behave badly just at the last." + +It was the last week in March, and Laura was loitering through the +garden one morning before breakfast, when Mrs. Melcombe came out to her +in some excitement with a note in her hand, which had been sent on from +the inn, and which set forth that Mr. Brandon, having business in that +immediate neighbourhood, would, if agreeable to her, do himself the +pleasure of calling some time that morning. He added that he had brought +a book for Miss Melcombe from his sister. + +"I have sent to the inn," said Mrs. Melcombe, "to beg that he will come +on here to breakfast." + +Laura had been gathering a bunch of violets, and she rushed up-stairs +and put them into her hair. Then in a great hurry she changed her +toilette, and, after ascertaining that the guest had arrived, she came +languidly into the breakfast-room, a straw-hat hanging by its strings +from her arm, and filled with primroses and other flowers. She felt as +she approached that all this looked quite romantic, but it did not look +so real and so unpremeditated as might have been wished. + +Mrs. Melcombe had also changed her array. Little Peter, like most other +children, was always the picture of cleanly neatness when first he left +his nurse's hand in the morning, and his mother was much pleased at the +evident interest with which their guest regarded him, asking him various +questions about his lessons, his sports, and his pony. She had been +deeply gratified at the kind way in which all the Mortimers and their +connections had received her boy; none of them seemed at all jealous. +Even Valentine had never hinted or even looked at her as if he felt that +the property ought not to have gone to the younger branch. + +Peter, now ten years old, and but a small boy for his age, had an +average degree of intelligence; and as he sat winking and blinking in +the morning sunshine, he constantly shook back a lock of hair that fell +over his forehead, till Brandon, quietly putting his hand to it, moved +it away, and while the boy related some childish adventure that he had +encouraged him to talk of, looked at him with scrutinizing and, as it +seemed to his mother, with almost anxious attention. + +"Peter has been very poorly several times this winter," she remarked. "I +mean shortly to take him out for change of air." + +"His forehead looks pale," said Brandon, withdrawing his hand, and for a +minute or two he seemed lost in thought, till Mrs. Melcombe, expressing +a hope that he would stay at her house as long as his affairs detained +him in that neighbourhood, he accepted her invitation with great +readiness. He would spend that day and the next with her, and, if she +would permit it, he would walk with young hopeful to his tutor's house, +and come back again in time for luncheon. + +"I declare, he scarcely spoke to me all breakfast-time," thought Laura. +"I consider him decidedly a proud man, and any one might think he had +come to see Peter rather than to see us." + +Brandon evidently did wish to walk with the boy, and accordingly rose as +soon as he had finished his breakfast, Mrs. Melcombe giving him some +directions, and a key to let himself in with by a side gate. + +All the intelligence Brandon possessed, and all his keenness of +observation, he exercised during his walk with the little heir. He could +generally attract children, and Peter was already well inclined toward +him, for he had shown himself to be knowing about a country boy's +pleasures; also he knew all about the little Mortimers and their doings. + +Brandon wished to see Melcombe, even to examine some parts of the house +and grounds, and he wanted if possible to hear something more about the +ghost story; but it did not suit him to betray any special interest. So +he left it to work its way to the surface if it would. It was not the +business he had come about, but he had undertaken to transact that, on +purpose because it gave him a chance of looking at the place. + +This was the deep glen, then, that he had heard Valentine speak of? + +"Yes; and mother says the old uncle Mortimer (that one who lived at +Wigfield) improved it so much; he had so many trees thinned out, and a +pond dug where there used to be a swamp. We've got some carp in that +pond. Do you think, if I fed them, they would get tame?" + +Brandon told some anecdote of certain carp that he had seen abroad, and +then asked-- + +"Do you like the glen, my boy--is it a favourite place of yours?" + +"Pretty well," answered Peter. "There are not so many nests, though, as +there used to be. It used to be quite dark with trees." + +"Did you like it then?" + +"Yes, it was jolly; but----" + +"But what?" asked Brandon carelessly. + +"Grandmother didn't like it," said the boy. + +Brandon longed to ask why. + +"She was very old, my grandmother." + +"Yes. And so she didn't like the glen?" + +"No; but the old uncle has had a walk, a sort of path, made through it; +and mamma says I may like it as much as I please, so does aunt Laura." +"You know," continued the child, in an argumentative tone, "there's no +place in the world where somebody hasn't died." + +"Now, what does this mean?" thought Brandon. "I would fain raise the +ghost if I could. Is he coming up now, or is he not?" + +Presently, however, Peter made some allusion to the family +misfortune--the death of the eldest son, by which Brandon perceived that +it had taken place in the glen. He then dropped the subject, nothing +more that was said till a few minutes before they reached the tutor's +lodgings being of the least interest. Then, as they turned the edge of a +wood, Peter looked back. + +"You won't forget the turn of the lane you are to take, will you, Mr. +Brandon? and you've got the key?" + +"Yes," said Brandon. + +"It's a green sort of door, in the park-paling. A new one has been made, +because that one was so shabby. It's the one my uncles went through when +they ran away, you know." + +"What uncles?" asked Brandon, not at all suspecting the truth, and not +much interested. + +"Why, that one who belonged to you," said Peter, "and the other one who +belongs to Bertie and Hugh. Didn't you know?" he exclaimed, having +observed the momentary flash of surprise that Brandon made haste to +conceal. "They ran away," he repeated, as Brandon walked beside him +making no answer, "a very long time before my mamma was born, and they +never came back any more till I was nearly six years old." + +"So that's your tutor's house, is it?" said Brandon, and thereupon he +took leave of him. + +"Amazing!" he said to himself as he walked away. "What next, I wonder?" + +As he returned he revolved this information in his mind with increasing +surprise. John Mortimer had a proud and confident way of talking about +his father that did not sound as if he knew that he had begun life by +running away from home. Valentine, he was well aware, knew nothing about +it. + +Coming on, he turned aside to talk to some men who were digging a well. +He knew how to talk to working people, and, what is more to the purpose, +he knew how to make them talk; but though they proffered a good deal of +information about the neighbourhood, nothing was said that gave him any +of the knowledge he wanted. And shortly he went on, and let himself in +at the little gate with his key. It was not yet eleven o'clock, and as +he did not want to see the ladies of the family so soon, he determined +to go down into the steep glen and look about him. + +He had no doubt now that to this place the superstitious story belonged. + +First, he skirted it all about. From above it was nearly as round as a +cup, and as deep in proportion to its size. The large old trees had been +left, and appeared almost to fill it up, their softly rounded heads +coming to within three feet of the level where he stood. All the mother +birds--rooks, jays, thrushes, and pigeons--were plainly in view under +him, as they sat brooding on their nests among the topmost twigs, and +there was a great cawing and crowing of the cock-birds while they flew +about and fed their mates. The leaves were not out; their buds only +looked like green eggs spotting the trees, excepting that here and there +a horse-chestnut, forwarder than its brethren, was pushing its crumpled +foliage out of the pale-pink sheath. Everywhere saplings had been cut +down, and numbers of them strewed the damp mossy ground; but light +penetrated, and water trinkled, there was a pleasant scent of herbs and +flowers, and the whole place was cheerful with growth and spring. + +A set of winding steps cut in the soft, red rock led into the glen just +where the side was steepest, and Brandon, intent on discovery, sprang +lightly down them. He wandered almost everywhere about the place. It +seemed to hold within itself a different climate from the world above, +where keen spring air was stirring; here hardly a breath moved, and in +the soft sheltered warmth the leaves appeared visibly to be expanding. +He forgot his object, also another object that he had in view (the +business, in fact, which had brought him), leaned against the trunk of a +horse-chestnut, listened to the missel-thrushes, looked at a pine-tree a +little way off, that was letting down a mist of golden dust, and +presently lost himself in a reverie, finding, as is the way with a +lover, that the scene present, whatever it may happen to be, was helping +to master his everyday self, was indeed just the scene to send him +plunging yet further down into the depths of his passionate dream. + +He had stood leaning against the tree, with his hat at his feet and his +arms folded, for perhaps half an hour. He had inherited a world (with an +ideal companion), had become absorbed into a lifetime of hope; and his +love appeared to grow without let or hindrance in the growing freshness +and glorious expansion of the spring. + +Half an hour of hope and joy consoles for much foregone trouble, and +further satisfies the heart by making it an easier thing to believe in +more yet to come. + +A sudden exclamation and a little crash roused him. + +Laura! She had come to visit her favourite tree, and lo! a man there at +last, leaning against it lost in thought, and so absolutely still that +she had not noticed him. + +She knew in an instant that this was not Joseph, and yet as the sight of +him flashed on her sense before recognition, the nothingness she always +found gave way to a feeling as of something real, that almost might have +been the right thing. As for him, though he saw her flitting figure, she +did not for the twinkling of an eye pass for the ghost he had come to +look for. He roused himself up in an instant. "Whew!" was his inward +thought, "she is alone; what could be so lucky! I'll do the business at +once, and get it over." + +Picking up his hat, and sinking at every step into the soft cushions of +moss, he accordingly approached her and said, but perhaps just a little +coldly, "I did not expect to see you here, Miss Melcombe." + +Laura perceived this slight tinge of coldness as plainly as he did the +improvement in her appearance since he had first seen her in the +morning, for surprise at detecting him had overpowered her affectation. +She had coloured from having been startled, and while she, from habit, +moved on mechanically to the tree, she answered quite simply and +naturally that she walked that way almost every day. + +Brandon turned and walked with her. Opposite to the said tree, and very +near it, was another, under which stood a bench. Laura sat down, and +while pointing out the spot where certain herons had built their +platform-like nests, began to recover herself, or rather to put on the +damaging affectation which in a moment of forgetfulness she had thrown +off. + +Brandon did not sit beside her, but while she arranged her dress to her +mind, threw her plaid shawl into becoming folds, and laying her hand on +her bracelet, furtively drew the ornament upon it to the upper side, he +looked at her and thought what a goose she was. + +She wore a straw hat with so wide a brim that as he stood before her he +did not see her face, and he was not sorry for this; it was not his +business to reprove her, but what he had to say would, he supposed, put +her a good deal out of countenance. + +He was just about to speak, and Laura was in the full enjoyment of +feeling how romantic it was to be there alone with a young man, was just +wishing that some of her friends could be looking down from above to see +this interesting picture, and draw certain conclusions, when a decidedly +sharp voice called out from behind, "Laura! what can you be doing here? +You know I don't like you to be for ever coming to that tree.--Laura!" + +"Yes, I'm here," said Laura, and Mrs. Melcombe, arrayed in blue poplin, +stepped into view, and made Brandon feel very foolish and Laura very +cross. + +"Oh! you've brought Mr. Brandon here to see the carp," said Amelia +graciously, but she hardly knew what to think, and they all presently +went to the pond, and watched the creatures flashing up their golden +sides, each wondering all the time what the two others were thinking +of. Then as it was nearly lunch time, Amelia and Laura proceeded to +leave the dell, Brandon attending them and helping them up the steps. He +was rather vexed that he had not been able to say his say and give Laura +a certain packet that he had in his possession; and as the afternoon +presently clouded over and it began to pour with rain, he hardly knew +what to do with himself till the bright idea occurred to him that he +would ask Mrs. Melcombe to show him the old house. + +Up and down stairs and into a good many rooms they all three proceeded +together. Hardly any pictures to found a question or a theory on; no old +china with a story belonging to it; no brown books that had been loved +by dead Melcombes. This could not have been a studious race. Not a +single anecdote was told of the dead all the time they went over the +place, till at last Mrs. Melcombe unlocked the door of a dark, +old-fashioned sitting-room upstairs, and going to the shutters opened +one of them, saying, "This is the room in which the dear old grandmother +spent the later years of her life." + +This really was an interesting old room. Laura and Amelia folded back +the shutters with a genuine air of reverence and feeling. It was most +evident that they had loved this woman whose son had forbidden her to +leave her property to him. + +Two or three dark old pictures hung on the walls, and there was a +cabinet on which Laura laying her hand, said-- + +"The dear grandmother kept all her letters here." + +"Indeed," Brandon answered; "it must have been very interesting to you +to look them over. (And yet," he thought "you don't look as if you had +found in them anything of much interest.") + +"We have never opened it," said Mrs. Melcombe. "Mr. Mortimer, when he +was here, proposed to look over and sort all the letters for me, but I +declined his offer." + +("And no doubt made him miserable by so doing") was Brandon's next +thought. + +"I shall keep the key for my dear boy," she continued, "and give it to +him when he comes of age." + +("To find out something that he will wish he didn't know.") thought +Brandon again. ("That cabinet, as likely as not, contains the evidence +of _it_, whatever _it_ is.") + +"And in this gallery outside," she proceeded, "the dear grandmother used +to walk every day." + +Brandon perceived that he had got to the core and heart of the place at +last. His interest was so intense that he failed to conceal it. He +walked to the window and noticed the pouring rain that was streaming +between the rustic pillars of the balustrades into the garden below. He +examined the pictures; only two of them were portraits, but in the +background of one was an undoubted representation of the house itself; +the other was a portrait of a beautiful boy in a blue jacket and a shirt +with a wide frill laid back and open at the neck. Under his arm appeared +the head of a greyish dog. + +"That creature," Brandon thought, "is almost exactly like my old dog +Smokey. I am very much mistaken if this is not the portrait of one of +his ancestors." + +He turned to ask some question about it, and observed to his surprise +that Mrs. Melcombe had left the room, and he was alone with Laura, who +had seated herself on a sofa and taken a long piece of crochet-work from +her pocket, which she was doing almost with the air of one who waits +patiently till somebody else has finished his investigations. + +"I thought you would be interested in that picture," she said; "you +recognise it, I suppose?" + +"No!" he exclaimed. + +"It used not to be here," said Laura; "the dear grandmother, as long as +she lived, always had it in her bedroom. It's Mr. Mortimer, your +stepfather, when he was a boy, and that was his dog, a great favourite; +when he ran away the dog disappeared--it was always supposed that it ran +after him. I suppose," continued Laura, impelled to say this to some one +who was sure to be impressed by it--"I suppose nobody ever did mourn as +my grandmother did over the loss of those two sons. Yet she never used +to blame them." + +They did run away then, and they did keep away, and yet she did not +blame them. How deeply pathetic these things seemed. Whatever it might +be that had made his step-father write that letter, it appeared now to +be thrown back to the time when he had divided himself thus from his +family and taken his boy brother with him. + +"And that other portrait," said Laura, "we found up in one of the +garrets, and hung here when the house was restored. It is the portrait +of my grandmother's only brother, who was sixteen or eighteen years +younger than she was. His name was Melcombe, which was her maiden name, +but ours, you know, was really Mortimer. It is very much darkened by +time and neglect, and never was of any particular value." + +"What has he got under his arm?" said Brandon. + +"I think it is a cocked hat or some kind of hat. I think they wore +cocked hats then in the navy; he was a lieutenant in the navy. You see +some sort of gold lace on it, and on the hilt of his sword." + +"Did he die at sea?" asked Brandon. + +"Yes. My great-grandfather left this place to his son, and as he died +unmarried it was to come to our eldest uncle, and then to grandmother, +as it did, you know." + +"'Its name was Melcombe, and it came from the sea,'" Brandon repeated +inwardly, adding, "Well, the _ghost_ can have had nothing to do with +this mystery. I shall trouble myself no more about him." + +"He was only about a year older than my oldest uncle," proceeded Laura, +"for grandmother married at seventeen." + +Brandon looked again. Something in the two pictures reminded him of the +portraits of the Flambourgh family. They had evidently been done by the +same artist. Each youth had something under his left arm, each was +turning his face slightly, and they both looked the same way. Young +Daniel Mortimer was so placed that his quiet eyes seemed to be always +regarding the hearth, now empty of warmth. The other, hung on the same +wall, seemed to look out into the garden, and Laura said in a +sentimental way that, considering the evident love she had borne her +grandmother, was not at all out of place. + +"There is a bed of lilies that dear grandmother used to love to watch, +and Amelia and I thought it interesting when we had had this picture put +up to observe that its eyes seemed to fall on the same place. They were +not friends, my grandmother and her brother, and no doubt after his +death my grandmother laid their frequent quarrels to heart, for she +could never bear to mention him, though she had a beautiful monument put +up to his memory. You must go and see it, Mr. Brandon. We have lately +had it cleaned, and dear grandmother's name added under his." + +"I will," said Brandon. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +VENERABLE ANCIENTRY. + + + "Even as the sparrow findeth an house, and the swallow a nest for + herself where she may lay her young, so I seek thine altars, O Lord + of Hosts, my King and my God."--Psalm lxxxiv., Marginal Translation. + +Rising early the next morning, Brandon found that he had an hour to +spare before breakfast, and sallied forth for an early walk. A delicate +hoarfrost still made white the shade, and sparkled all over the sombre +leaves of some fine yew-trees that grew outside the garden wall. + +Walking up a little rise, he saw the weathercock and one turret of a +church tower peering over the edge of a small steep hill, close at hand, +and turning toward it he went briskly on, under the lee of a short fir +plantation, all the grass being pure and fresh with hoar-frost, which +melted in every hollow and shadow as fast as the sun came round to it. + +The house was too large and pretentious for the grounds it stood in, +these being hardly extensive enough to be called a park; they consisted +of finely varied wood and dell, and were laid out in grass and fed off +by sheep. + +He passed through a gate into the churchyard, which had a very little +valley all to itself, the land rising on every side so as to make a deep +nest for it. Such a venerable, low, long church! taking old age so +quietly, covering itself with ivy and ferns, and having a general air of +mossiness, and subsidence into the bosom of the earth again, from +whence its brown old stones had been quarried. For, as is often the case +with an old burial-place, the soil had greatly risen, so that one who +walked between the graves could see the whole interior of the place +through the windows. The tiled roof, sparkling and white with the +morning frost, was beginning to drip, and dew shone on the melting rime, +while all around the enclosure orchards were planted, and the trees +leaned over their boughs. + +A woman, stepping from a cottage on the rise, held up a great key to +him, and he advanced, took it, and told her he would return it. + +A large heavy thing it was, that looked as if it might be hundreds of +years old; he turned the lock with it and stepped in, walking down the +small brick aisle, observing the ancient oaken seats, the quaint pulpit, +and strange brasses; till, white, staring, obtrusive, and all out of +taste, he saw in the chancel what he had come to look for, a great white +marble monument, on the south side; four fluttering cherubs with short +wings that appeared to hold up a marble slab, while two weeping figures +knelt below. First was recorded on the slab the death of Augustus +Cuthbert Melcombe, only son of Cuthbert Melcombe, gent., of this place. +Then followed the date of his birth, and there was no date of death, +merely the information that he was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. +Brandon copied this inscription into his note-book. + +Below was the name of the young man's only sister, aged ninety-seven, +"universally beloved and respected;" then the solemn words used before +death by the aged patriarch, "I have waited for Thy Salvation, O Lord." +All about the chancel were various small tablets in memory of the +successive vicars of the place and their families, but no others with +the name of Melcombe on them. The whole building was so overflowing with +the records of human creatures, inside and out, it appeared as if so +saturated with man's thoughts, so used to man's prayers and tears, so +about presently to decline and subside into the earth as he does, that +there was almost an effort in believing that it was empty of the beings +it seemed to be a part of--empty of those whom we call the living. + +It was easy to move reverently and feel awed in the face of this +venerable ancientry. This was the place, then, where that poor woman had +worshipped whose son "had never judged her." + +"If I settled," he thought, "in a new country, this is the sort of scene +that, from time to time, would recur to my thoughts and get hold of me, +with almost intolerable power to make life one craving for home. + +"How hard to take root in a soil my fathers never ploughed! Let me abide +where my story grew, where my dead are laid, in a country full of days, +full of the echoes of old Englishmen's talk, and whose sunsets are +stained as if with the blood shed for their liberties." + +He left the church, noticing, as he went down the aisle, numbers of +dogs'-eared books in the different pews, and the narrow window at the +east end now letting in long shafts of sunshine; but there was nothing +to inform him of any fact that threw light on his step-father's letter, +and he returned the key to the sexton's wife, and went back to +breakfast, telling Mrs. Melcombe where he had been, and remarking that +there was no date of death on Augustus Melcombe's tomb. + +"I think they did not know the date," she replied. "It was during the +long French war that he died, and they were some time uncertain of the +fact, but at length the eldest son going to London, wrote his mother an +account of how he had met with the captain of his young uncle's ship, +and had been told of his death at sea, somewhere near the West Indies. +The dear grandmother showed me that letter," observed Mrs. Melcombe, +"when first I married." + +Brandon listened attentively, and when he was alone set that down also +in his note-book, then considering that neither the ghost nor the young +lieutenant need trouble him further, he felt that all his suspicions +were cast loose into a fathomless sea, from which he could fish nothing +up; but the little heir was well and happy, and he devoutly hoped that +he would remain so, and save to himself the anxiety of showing, and to +Valentine the pain and doubt that would come of reading the letter. + +Mrs. Melcombe, narrow as were her thoughts, was, notwithstanding, a +schemer in a small way. She had felt that Brandon must have had +something to say to Laura when she herself coming up had interrupted +him. Laura had few reserves from her, so when she had ascertained that +nothing had occurred when she had left them together in the +grandmother's sitting-room but such talk as naturally arose out of the +visit to it, she resolved to give him another opportunity, and after +breakfast was about to propose a walk, when he helped her by asking her +to show him that room again. + +"I should like so much to have a photograph of Mr. Mortimer's picture," +he said; "may I see it again?" + +Nothing more easy. They all went up to the room; a fire had been lighted +to air it, because its atmosphere had felt chilly the day before. Laura +seated herself again on the sofa. Brandon, with pen and ink, began +trying to make a sketch of the portrait, and very soon found himself +alone with Laura, as he had fully expected would be the case. Whereupon, +sitting with his back to her, and working away at his etching, he +presently said-- + +"I mentioned yesterday to Mrs. Melcombe that I had come on business." + +"Yes," Laura answered. + +"So as it concerns only you, I will, if you please, explain it now." + +As he leaned slightly round towards her Laura looked up, but she was +mute through surprise. There was something in this voice at once +penetrative and sweet; but now she was again conscious of what sounded +like a delicately-hinted reproof. + +"A young man," he proceeded, "whom I have known almost all my life--in +fact, I may call him a friend of mine--told me of an event that had +taken place--he called it a misfortune that had befallen him. It had +greatly unsettled him, he said, for a long time; and now that he was +getting over it, and wanted to forget it, he wished for a change, would +like to go abroad, and asked if I could help him. I have many foreign +acquaintances. It so chanced that I had just been applied to by one of +them to send him out an Englishman, a clerk, to help him with his +English correspondence. So I proposed to this young fellow to go, and he +gladly consented." + +Laura said nothing. Brandon's words did not lead her to think of Joseph. +So she thought of him, wishing she had been so led. She noticed, +however, a slight emphasis in the words which informed her that the +young man, whoever he was, "was getting over his misfortune, and wanted +to forget it." + +"It was very kind of you," she said at last, after a long pause. + +Brandon turned. Her words were ambiguous, and he wished to be +understood. "You observe, no doubt, Miss Melcombe," he said, "that I am +speaking of Joseph Swan?" + +"Joseph Swan!" Laura repeated, "then he is going away?" + +"Yes; but when I had secured this situation for him, he said he felt +that he must tell me what had occurred. He told me of an attachment that +he had formed, and whatever I may think as to the prudence displayed in +the affair, you know best whether _he_ was at all to blame. He had +received certain promises, so he assured me, and for a long time he had +buoyed himself up with hope, but after that, feeling himself very much +injured, and knowing that he had been deceived, he had determined to go +away." + +Laura had never expected to have her conduct brought home to her, and +she had actually been almost unaware that she was to blame. + +"It was Amelia's doing," she murmured. + +Brandon was anxious to speak guardedly, and would not mention Joseph's +name again lest Mrs. Melcombe should enter suddenly and hear it, so he +answered, "Yes; and the young man told me he knew you were very much +afraid of your sister-in-law. It appears, however, that you had written +to him." + +"I did, two or three times," said Laura. + +"So in case you should in after years feel anxious as to what had become +of those letters, or should feel some compunction for groundless hopes +excited and for causeless caprice, I undertook to tell you as a message +from this young man, that, considering you to be completely under the +dominion of your sister-in-law, he does not at all blame you, he does +not admit that you are in fault; in one sense, now that he can look back +on his attachment as over, he declares that he is the better for it, +because it induced him to work hard at improving himself. He is to go +out to Santo Domingo, where, in a new climate, and hearing a new +language, he can begin life afresh; but he wishes you to be assured that +he shall never trouble or annoy you, and he returns you your letters. I +promised to say all this to you as a message from this young man--a +young man who, whatever the world may call him, deserves, I think, by +you (and me) to be from henceforth always regarded as a gentleman. Will +you allow me to give you this packet?" + +He had risen as he spoke, and while approaching her produced a small +packet carefully done up; but Laura did not stir. She had dropped her +hands on her knees, and he, stooping, laid it upon them, when meeting +her eyes for a moment, he observed with amazement and discomfiture that +she was silent not from shame and compunction for what had seemed very +unfeminine and heartless conduct, but from a rapture that seemed too +deep for words. + +"Miss Melcombe!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes," she answered, in a low voice. "It is an island that he is going +to then. I always thought I should not mind marrying him if he would go +to a desert island. And so he loved me, really and truly?" + +"It appears that he did, _some time ago_" said Brandon, rather +pointedly. + +"Does any one else know," Laura asked, "but you?" + +"Yes; John Mortimer does." + +Laura blushed deeply. + +"Joseph told him first about this affair, but did not divulge the lady's +name. After all was settled, he acknowledged to us both that you were +the lady. John was very glad that I was willing personally to give the +letters into your own hands again." + +"I suppose he thought I had been very imprudent?" + +Brandon recalled the scene. John had in fact expressed himself to that +effect in no measured terms; but he had been pleasant and even cordial +to Joseph, partly because the young man declared the thing to be quite +over, partly because he did him the justice to remember that such an +acquaintance must always have been begun by the woman. It could not +possibly be Joe's doing that he had corresponded with Laura Melcombe. + +Laura repeated her words. + +"I suppose he thought I had been very imprudent?" + +"Perhaps he did." + +"Perhaps he thought I had been heartless too?" + +"Not to bring the thing to a decided and honourable termination?--yes, +probably. He remarked that it certainly was most unnecessary to have +behaved as you have done." + +"How so, Mr. Brandon?" + +"I believe, indeed I am sure, that you are of age?" + +"Yes, I am. He meant that no one can really prevent my doing as I +please; but Amelia wanted me to ignore the whole thing because she was +so ashamed of him and his people." + +"He told John so." + +"And what did he answer?" + +"Among other things, he said he was glad it was all over." + +"Yes," said Laura, not in the least impressed by this hint, "but what +else?" + +"He said, 'Joe, you ought to have been above wanting to marry any woman +who was ashamed of you. I wouldn't do such a thing on any account.'" + +"He said that?" cried Laura, rather startled. + +"Yes, and I quite agreed with him--I told Joe that I did." + +"Did he say anything more?" + +Brandon hesitated, and at length, finding that she would wait till he +spoke, he said-- + +"He told Joe he ought to be thankful to have the thing over, and said +that he had come out of it well, and the lady had not." + +"Amelia is not half so unkind as you are," said Laura, when she had made +him say this, and a quiet tear stole down her cheek and dropped on her +hand. + +"Pardon me! I think that for myself I have expressed no opinion but this +one, that Joe Swan deserves your respect for the manly care he has taken +to shield you from blame, spare you anxiety, and terminate the matter +properly." + +"Terminate!" repeated Laura; "yes, that is where you are so unkind." + +"Am I expected to help her to bring it on again?" thought Brandon. "No; +I have a great respect for fools, and they must marry like other people; +but oh, Joey, Joey Swan, if you are one, which I thought you the other +day (and the soul of honour too!), I think if you still cared about it, +you could soon get yourself mated with a greater one still! Laura +Melcombe would be at least a fair match for you in that particular. But +no, Joey, I decline to interfere any further." + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +EMILY. + + + "Not warp'd by passion, awed by rumour, + Not grave through pride, nor gay through folly, + An equal mixture of good humour, + And sensible, soft melancholy. + + "'Has she no faults then,' Envy says, 'Sir?' + 'Yes, she has one, I must aver; + When all the world conspires to praise her + The woman's deaf, and does not hear.'" + +John Mortimer was sitting at breakfast the very morning after this +conversation had taken place at Melcombe. No less than four of his +children were waiting on him; Gladys was drying his limp newspaper at a +bright fire, Barbara spreading butter on his toast, little Hugh kneeling +on a chair, with his elbows on the table, was reading him a choice +anecdote from a child's book of natural history, and Anastasia, while he +poured out his coffee with one hand, had got hold of the other, which +she was folding up industriously in her pinafore and frock, because she +said it was cold. It was a windy, chilly, and exasperatingly bright +spring morning; the sunshine appeared to prick the traveller all over +rather than to warm him. Not at all the morning for an early walk, but +John, lifting up his eyes, saw a lady in the garden, and in another +instant Mrs. Frederic Walker was shown in. + +"What, Emily!" exclaimed John, starting up. + +"Yes, John; but my soldier and my valuable infant are both quite well. +Now, if you don't go on with your breakfast, I shall depart. Let me sit +by the fire and warm my feet." + +"You have breakfasted?" + +"Of course. How patriarchal you look, John, sitting in state to be +adored!" + +Thereupon, turning away from the fire, she began to smile upon the +little Anastasia, and without any more direct invitation, the small +coquette allowed herself to be decoyed from her father to sit on the +visitor's knee. Emily had already thrown off her fur wraps, and the +child, making herself very much at home in her arms, began presently to +look at her brooch and other ornaments, the touch of her small fingers +appearing to give pleasure to Emily, who took up one of the fat little +pink hands, and kissed it fondly. + +"What is that lady's name, Nancy?" said John. + +"Mrs. Nemily," answered the child. + +"You have still a little nursery English left about you, John," said +Emily. "How sweet it is! My boy has that yet to come; he can hardly say +half-a-dozen words." + +Then Gladys entering the room with a cup and saucer, she rose and came +to the table. + +"That milk looks so nice--give me some of it. How pleasant it is to feel +cold and hungry, as one does in England! No, John, not ham; I will have +some bread and marmalade. Do the children always wait on you, John, at +breakfast?" + +There was something peculiarly sweet and penetrative in the voices of +Brandon and his sister; but this second quality sometimes appeared to +give more significance to their words than they had intended. + +"Always. Does it appear an odd arrangement in your eyes?" + +"Father," said Barbara, "here is your paper. I have cut the leaves." + +"Thank you, my dear; put it down. You should, consider, Emily, my great +age and exaltation in the eyes of these youngsters. Don't you perceive +that I am a middle-aged man, madam?" + +"Middle-aged, indeed! You are not thirty-six till the end of September, +you know--the 28th of September. And oh, John, you cannot think how +young you look! just as if you had stolen all these children, and they +were not really yours. You have so many of them, too, while I have only +one, and he such a little one--he is only two years old." + +While she spoke a bell began to ring, and the two elder children, +wishing her good-bye, left the room. + +"Do you think those girls are growing like their mother?" asked John. + +"I think they are a little. Perhaps that pretty way they have of taking +up their eye-glasses when they come forward to look at anything, makes +them seem more like than they are." + +John scarcely ever mentioned his wife, but before Emily most people +spoke without much reserve. + +"Only one of the whole tribe is like her in mind and disposition," he +continued. + +"And that's a good thing," thought Emily, but she did not betray her +thought. + +While this talk went on the two younger children had got possession, of +Mrs. Nemily's watch (which hung from her neck by a long Trichinopoly +chain), and were listening to a chime that it played. Emily took the boy +on her knee, and it did not appear that he considered himself too big to +be nursed, but began to examine the watch, putting it to his ear, while +he composedly rested his head on her shoulder. + +"Poor little folk," thought John, "how naturally they take to the +caresses of a young mother!" + +Another bell then rang. + +"What order is kept in your house!" said Emily, as both the children +departed, one with a kiss on her dimpled cheek and the other on his +little scratched fist, which already told of much climbing. + +"That is the school-room bell," John answered; and then Mrs. Frederic +Walker laughed, and said, with a look half whimsical, half wistful---- + +"Oh, John, you're going to be so cross?" + +"Are you going to make me cross? You had better tell me at once, then, +what you are come for. Has Giles returned?" + +"He came in late last night. I know what he went for, John. He thought +it best to tell me. He is now gone on to the station about some affairs +of his own. It seems that you both took Joey Swan's part, and were +displeased with that Laura." + +"Of course. She made the poor fellow very miserable for a long time. +Besides, I am ashamed of the whole derogatory affair. Did Giles see that +she burnt those letters--foolish, cold-hearted creature?" + +"'Foolish,' I dare say; but 'cold-hearted,' I don't know. St. George +declared to me that he thought she was as much in love now as that goose +Joseph ever was." + +"Amazing!" exclaimed John, very much discomfited. + +"And she tried hard to make him promise that he would keep the whole +thing a profound secret, especially from you; and so of course he +declined, for he felt that you must be the proper person to tell it to, +though we do not know why. He reasoned with her, but he could make +nothing of her." + +"Perhaps she wants to bring it on again," said John. "What a pity he +returned the letters before Joe had sailed!" + +"No, it was the right thing to do. And, John, if love is really the +sacred, strong, immortal passion made out by all the poets and +novelists, I cannot see, somehow, that putty ought to stand in its +light. It ought to have a soul above putty." + +"With all my heart," said John; "but you see in this case it hadn't." + +"It would be an _astonishingly_ disadvantageous thing for our family if +she ran away and married him just now, when Valentine has been making +himself so ridiculous. But there is no doubt we could bring it on again, +and have it done if we chose," said Emily. + +John looked at her with surprise. + +"But then," she continued, "I should say that the man ought to be +thought of as well as herself, and she might prove a thoroughly +unsuitable, foolish wife, who would soon tire of him. SHE might be very +miserable also. She would not have half the chance of happiness that an +ordinary marriage gives. And, again, Santo Domingo is notoriously +unhealthy. She might die, and if we had caused the marriage, we should +feel that." + +"Are you addressing this remarkable speech to yourself or to _the +chair_?" said John, laughing. + +"To the chair. But, if I am the meeting, don't propose as a resolution +that this meeting is _tête montée_. John, you used to say of me before I +married that I was troubled with intuitions." + +"I remember that I did." + +"You meant that I sometimes saw consequences very clearly, and felt that +the only way to be at peace was to do the right thing, having taken some +real trouble to find out what it was." + +"I was not aware that I meant that. But proceed." + +"When Laura was here in the autumn she often talked to Liz about little +Peter Melcombe's health, and said she believed that his illness at +Venice had very much shaken his constitution. His mother, she said, +never would allow that there had been much the matter with him, though +she had felt frightened at the time. It was the heat, Laura thought, +that had been too much for him. Now, you know if that poor little fellow +were to die, Valentine, who has nothing to live on, and nothing to do, +is his heir. What a fine thing it would be for him!" + +"I don't see yet what you mean." + +"Mrs. Melcombe found out before Giles left Melcombe all about these +letters. She came into the room, and Laura, who seems to have been +filled with a ridiculous sort of elation to think that somebody had +really loved her, betrayed it in her manner, and between her and Giles +it was confessed. Mrs. Melcombe was very wroth." + +"Laura has a right to do as she pleases," said John; "no one can prevent +it." + +"She has the right, but not the power. WE can do as we please, or we can +let Mrs. Melcombe do as SHE pleases." + +"You mean that we can tell my gardener's son that my cousin (whom he no +longer cares for) is in love with him, and, by our assistance and +persuasion, we can, if we choose, bring on as foolish a marriage as ever +was contemplated, and one as disadvantageous to ourselves. Now for the +alternative. What can it be?" + +"Mrs. Melcombe can take Laura on the Continent again, and she proposed +to do it forthwith." + +"And leave her boy at school? A very good thing for him." + +"No, she means to take him also, and not come back till Joseph is at the +other end of the world." + +"Two months will see him there." + +"Well, John, now you have stated the case, it does seem a strange fancy +of mine to wish to interfere, and if to interfere could possibly be to +our advantage----" + +"You would not have thought of it! No, I am sure of that. Now my advice +is, that we let them alone all round. I don't believe, in the first +place, that Joe Swan, now he has change, freedom, and a rise in life +before him, would willingly marry Laura if he might. I am not at all +sure that, if it came to the point, she would willingly marry him at +such short notice, and leave every friend she has in the world. I think +she would shrink back, for she can know nothing worth mentioning of him. +As to the boy, how do you know that a tour may not be a very fine thing +for him? It must be better than moping at Melcombe under petticoat +government; and even if Joe married Laura to-morrow, we could not +prevent Mrs. Melcombe from taking him on the Continent whenever she +chose." + +Emily was silent. + +"And what made you talk of a runaway match?" continued John. + +"Because she told Giles that the last time she saw Joseph he proposed to +her to sneak away, get married before a magistrate, and go off without +saying a word to anybody." + +"Fools," exclaimed John, "both of them! No, we cannot afford to have any +runaway matches--and of such a sort too! I should certainly interfere if +I thought there was any danger of that." + +"I hope you would. He wanted her to propose some scheme. I think scorn +of all scheming. If she had really meant to marry him, his part should +have been to see that she did it in a way that would not make it worse +for her afterwards. He should have told Mrs. Melcombe fairly that she +could not prevent it, and he should have taken her to church and married +her like a man before plenty of witnesses in the place where she is +known. If he had not shown such a craven spirit, I almost think I would +have taken his part. Now, John, I know what you think; but I should have +felt just the same if Valentine had not made himself ridiculous, and if +I was quite sure that this would not end in a runaway match after all, +and the _True Blue_ be full of it." + +"I believe you," said John; "and I always had a great respect for you, +'Mrs. Nemily.'" + +"What are you laughing at, then?" + +"Perhaps at the matronly dignity with which you have been laying down +the law." + +"Is that all? Oh, I always do that now I am married, John." + +"You don't say so! Well, Joe Swan has worked hard at improving himself; +but though good has come out of it in the end for him, it is certainly a +very queer affair. Why, in the name of common sense, couldn't Laura be +contented with somebody in her own sphere?" + +"I should like to know why Laura was so anxious the matter should be +concealed from you," said Emily. + +"Most likely she remembers that Swan is in my employment, or she may +also be 'troubled with intuitions,' and know by intuition what I think +of her." + +"And how is Aunt Christie?" asked Emily, after little more talk +concerning Joseph's affairs. + +"Well and happy; I do not believe it falls to the lot of any old woman +to be happier in this _oblate spheroid_. The manner in which she acts +dragon over Miss C. is a joy to me, the only observer. She always +manages that we shall never meet excepting in her presence; when I go +into the schoolroom to read prayers, I invariably find her there before +me. She insists, also, on presiding at all the schoolroom meals. How she +found out the state of things here I cannot tell, but I thankfully let +her alone. I never go out to smoke a cigar in the evening, and notice a +stately female form stepping forth also, but Aunt Christie is sure to +come briskly stumping in her wake, ready to join either her or me." + +"You don't mean to imply anything?" + +"Of course not! but you yourself, before you married, were often known +to take my arm at flower-shows, &c., in order to escape from certain +poor fellows who sighed in vain." + +"Yes, you were good about that; and you remind me of it, no doubt, in +order to claim the like friendliness from me now the tables are turned. +John, the next time I take your arm in public it will be to extend my +matronly countenance to those modest efforts of yours at escaping +attention, for you know yourself to be quite unworthy of notice!" + +"Just so; you express my precise feeling." + +"It is a pity you and Grand are so rich!" + +"Why? You do not insinuate, I hope, that I and my seven are merely +eligible on that account. Now, what are you looking at me for, with that +little twist in your lips that always means mischief?" + +"Because I like you, and I am afraid you are being spoilt, John. I do so +wish you had a nice wife. I should? at least, if you wished it +yourself." + +"A saving clause! Have you and Fred discussed me, madam?" + +"No, I declare that we have not." + +"I hope you have nobody to recommend, because I won't have her! I always +particularly disliked red hair." + +"Now what makes you suppose I was thinking of any one who has red hair?" + +"You best know yourself whether you were _not_." + +"Well," said Emily, after a pause for reflection, "now you mention it (I +never did), I do not see that you could do better." + +"I often think so myself, and that is partly why I am so set against it! +No, Emily, it would be a shame to joke about an excellent and pleasant +woman. The fact is, I have not the remotest intention of ever marrying +again at all." + +"Very well," said Emily, "it is not my affair; it was your own notion +entirely that I wanted to help you to a wife." + +And she sat a moment cogitating, and thinking that the lady of the +golden head had probably lost her chance by showing too openly that she +was ready. + +"What are you looking at?" said John. "At the paths worn in my carpets? +That's because all the rooms are thoroughfares. Only fancy any woman +marrying a poor fellow whose carpets get into that state every three or +four years." + +"Oh," said Emily, "if that was likely to stand in your light, I could +soon show you how to provide a remedy." + +"But my father hates the thoughts of bricks and mortar," said John, +amused at her seriousness, "and I inherit that feeling." + +"John, the north front of your house is very ugly. You have five French +windows on a line--one in each of these rooms, one in the hall; you +would only have to run a narrow passage-like conservatory in front of +them, enter it by the hall window, and each room by its own window, put +a few plants in the conservatory, and the thing is done in a fortnight. +Every room has its back window; you would get into the back garden as +you do now; you need not touch the back of the house, that is all +smothered in vines and creepers, as you are smothered in children!" + +"The matter shall have my gravest consideration," said John, "provided +you never mention matrimony to me again as long as you live." + +"Very well," said Emily, "I promise; but there is St. George coming. I +must not forget to tell you that I saw Joseph this morning at a +distance; he was standing in the lea of the pigstye, and cogitating in +the real moony style." + +"It was about his outfit," exclaimed John; "depend upon it it was not +about Laura." + +And so the colloquy ended, and John walked down his own garden, opened +the wicket that led to his gardener's cottage, and saw Joseph idly +picking out a weed here and there, while he watched the bees, some of +whom, deluded by the sunshine, had come forth, and were feebly hanging +about the opening of the hive. + +"Joe," said John, with perfect decision and directness, "I have a +favour to ask of you." + +Joseph was startled at first; but as no more was said, he presently +answered, "Well, sir, you and yours have done me so many, that I didn't +ought to hesitate about saying I'll grant it, whatever it is." + +"If you should think of marrying before you go----" + +"Which I don't, sir," interrupted the young man rather hastily. + +"Very good; then if you change your mind, I want your promise that you +will immediately let me know." + +"Yes, sir," said Joseph, as if the promise cost him nothing, and +suggested nothing to his mind, "I will." + +"There," thought John, as he turned away, "he does not know what he is +about; but if she brings the thing on again, I believe he will keep +faith with me, and a clandestine marriage I am determined shall not be." + +He then went into the town and found, to his surprise, that Brandon had +already seen his father, and had told him that Dorothea Graham had +engaged herself to him. John was very much pleased, but his father +treated the matter with a degree of apathy which rather startled and +disturbed him. + +Old Augustus was in general deeply interested in a marriage; he had +helped several people to marry, and whether he approved or disapproved +of any one in particular, he was almost sure, when he had been lately +told of it, to make some remarks on the sacredness of the institution, +and on the advantages of an early marriage for young men. + +He, however, said nothing, though Brandon was one of his chief +favourites; but having just related the fact, took up the _Times_, and +John opened his letters, one of them being from his son Johnny, written +in a fully-formed and beautiful hand, which made its abrupt style and +boyish vehemence the more observable. + +"My Dearest Father,--It's all right. Mr. ---- took me to Harrow, and Dr. +B. examined me, and he said--oh, he said a good deal about my Latin +verses, and the books I'm _in_, but I can't tell you it, because it +seems so muffish. And, papa, I wish I might bring Crayshaw home for the +Easter holidays; you very nearly promised I should; but I wanted to tell +you what fun I and the other fellows had at the boat-race. You can +hardly think how jolly it was. I suppose when I get into the great +school I shall never see it. We ran down shouting and yelling after the +boats. I thought I should never be happy again if Cambridge didn't win. +It was such a disgustingly sleety, blowy, snowy, windy, raspy, muddy +day, as you never saw. And such crowds of fellows cheering and +screeching out to the crews. Such a rout! + + "'The Lord Mayor lent the City P'lice, + The cads ran down by scores and scores + With shouting roughs, and scented muffs, + While blue were flounces, frills, and gores. + On swampy meads, in sleeted hush, + The swarms of London made a rush, + And all the world was in the slush.' + +"Etcetera. That's part of Crayshaw's last; it's a parody of one of those +American fogies. Dear father, you will let me come home, won't you; +because I do assure you I shall get in with the greatest ease, even if +I'm not coached for a day more. A great many fellows here haven't a +tutor at all.--I remain, your affectionate son, + +"A.J. Mortimer. + +"P.S.--Will you tell Gladys that my three puppies, which she says are +growing nicely, are not, on any account, to be given away; and will you +say that Swan is not to drown them, or do anything with them, till I've +chosen one, and then he may sell the others. And I hope my nails and +screws and my tools have not been meddled with. The children are not to +take my things. It often makes me miserable to think that they get my +nails and my paddle when I'm gone." + +John Mortimer smiled, and felt rather inclined to let the boy come home, +when, looking up, he observed that his father was dozing over the +newspaper, and that he shivered. + +Master Augustus John did not get an answer so soon as he had hoped for +it, and when it came it was dated from a little, quiet place at the +seaside, and let him know that his grandfather was very poorly, very +much out of sorts, and that his father had felt uneasy about him. Johnny +was informed that he must try to be happy, spending the Easter holidays +at his tutor's. His grandfather sent him a very handsome "tip," and a +letter written in such a shaky hand, that the boy was a good deal +impressed, and locked it up in his desk, lest he should never have +another. + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE AMERICAN GUEST. + + + "Shall we rouse the night-owl with a catch that will draw three + souls out of one weaver?" + +In less than a week from the receipt of his son's letter, John Mortimer +wrote again, and gave the boy leave to come home, but on no account to +bring young Crayshaw with him, if a journey was likely to do him harm. + +Johnny accordingly set off instantly (the holidays having just begun), +and, travelling all night, reached the paternal homestead by eight +o'clock in the morning. + +His father was away, but he was received with rapture by his brothers +and sisters. His little brothers admired him with the humble reverence +of small boys for big ones, and the girls delighted in his school-boy +slang, and thought themselves honoured by his companionship. + +Crayshaw was an American by birth, but his elder brother (under whose +guardianship he was) had left him in England as his best chance of +living to manhood, for he had very bad health, and the climate of his +native place did not suit him. + +Young Gifford Crayshaw had a general invitation to spend the holidays at +Brandon's house, for his brother and Brandon were intimate friends; but +boys being dull alone, Johnny Mortimer and he contrived at these times +to meet rather often, sometimes to play, sometimes to fight--even the +latter is far better than being without companionship, more natural, and +on the whole more cheerful. + +"And I'm sure," said Aunt Christie, when she heard he was coming, "I +should never care about the mischief he leads the little ones into when +he's well, if he could breathe like other people when he's ill; you may +hear him half over the house when he has his asthma." + +Crayshaw came by the express train in the afternoon, and was met by the +young Mortimers in the close carriage. He was nearly fifteen, and a +strange contrast to Johnny, whose perfect health, ardent joyousness, and +lumbering proportions never were so observable as beside the clear-cut +face of the other, the slow gait, an expression of countenance at once +audacious, keen, and sweet, together with that peculiar shadow under the +eyelids which some people consider to betoken an early death. + +Crayshaw was happily quite well that afternoon, and accordingly very +noisy doings went on; Miss Crampton was away for her short Easter +holiday, and Aunt Christie did not interfere if she could help it when +Johnny was at home. + +That night Master Augustus John Mortimer, his friend, and all the family +were early asleep; not so the next. It was some time past one o'clock +A.M. when John Mortimer and Brandon, who had been dining together at a +neighbour's house, one having left his father rather better, and the +other having come home from the Isle of Wight, walked up towards the +house deep in conversation, till John, lifting up his eyes, saw lights +in the schoolroom windows. This deluded father calmly remarked that the +children had forgotten to put the lamp out when they went to bed. +Brandon thought he heard a sound uncommonly like infant revelry, but he +said nothing, and the two proceeded into the closed house, and went +softly up-stairs. + +"Roast pork," said Brandon, "if ever I smelt that article in my life!" + +They opened the schoolroom door, and John beheld, to his extreme +surprise, a table spread, his eldest son at the head of it, his twin +daughters, those paragons of good behaviour, peeling potatoes, and the +other children, all more or less dishevelled, sitting round, blushing +and discomfited. + +"My dears!" exclaimed John Mortimer, "this I never could have believed +of you! One o'clock in the morning!" + +Perfect silence. Brandon thought John would find it beneath his dignity +to make a joke of this breach of discipline. He was rather vexed that he +should have helped to discover it, and feeling a little _de trop_, he +advanced to the top of the table. "John," he said with a resigned air +and with a melancholy cadence in his voice that greatly impressed the +children. + +"Come," thought John as he paused, "they deserve a 'wigging,' but I +don't want to make a 'Star-chamber matter' of this. I wish he would not +be so supernaturally serious." + +"John," repeated Brandon, "on occasion of this unexpected hospitality, I +feel called upon to make a speech." + +John sat down, wondering what would come next. + +"John, ladies and gentlemen," said Brandon, "when I look around me on +these varied attractions, when I behold those raspberry turnovers of a +flakiness and a puffiness so ethereal, that one might think the very +eyes of the observer should drop lightly on them, lest that too +appreciative glance should flatten them down--I say, ladies and +gentlemen, when I smell that crackling, when I cast my eyes on those +cinders in the gravy, I am irresistibly reminded of occasions when I +myself, arrayed in a holland pinafore, have presided over like +entertainments; and of one in particular when, being of tender age--of +one occasion, I say, that is never to be forgotten, when, during the +small hours of the night, I was hauled out of bed to assist in mixing +hardbake, by one very dear to us all--who shall be nameless." + +What more he would have added will never be known, for with ringing +laughter that spoke for the excellence of their lungs, the whole +tableful of young Mortimers, with the exception of Johnnie, rose, and, +as if by one impulse, fell upon their father. + +"Hold hard," he was heard to shout, "don't smother me." But he received +a kissing and hugging of great severity; the elder ones who had +understood Brandon's speech, closing him in; the little ones, who only +perceived to their delight that the occasion had become festive again, +hovering round, and getting at him where they could. So that when they +parted, and he was visible again, sitting radiant in the midst of them, +his agreeable face was very red, and he was breathing fast and audibly. +"I'll pay you for this!" he exclaimed, when he observed, to his +amusement, that Brandon's serious look was now really genuine, as if he +was afraid the experiment might be repeated on himself. "Johnnie, my +boy, shake hands, I forgive you this once. And you may pass the bottle." +Johnnie, who knew himself to be the real offender, made haste to obey. +"It's not blacking, of course," continued John, looking at the thick +liquor with distrust. + +"The betht black currant," exclaimed his heir, "at thirteen-penth a +bottle." + +"And where's Cray?" exclaimed John, suddenly observing the absence of +his young guest. + +"He's down in the kitchen, dishing up the pudding," said Barbara +blushing, and she darted out of the room, and presently returned, other +footsteps following hers. + +"Cray," exclaimed John, as the boy seemed inclined to linger outside, +"don't stand there in the draught. And so it is not by your virtuous +inclinations that you have hitherto been excluded from this festive +scene?" + +"No, sir," said Crayshaw with farcical meekness of voice and air, "quite +the contrary. It was that I've met with a serious accident. I've been +run over." + +John looked aghast. "You surely have not been into the loose-box," he +said anxiously. + +"Oh no, father, nothing of the sort," said Barbara. "It was only that he +was down in the kitchen on his knees, and two blackbeetles ran over his +legs. You should never believe a word he says, father." + +"But that was the reason the pudding came to grief," continued Crayshaw; +"they were very large and fierce, and in my terror I let it fall, and it +was squashed. When I saw their friends coming on to fall upon it, I was +just about to cry, 'Take it all, but spare my life!' when Barbara came +and rescued me. I hope," he went on, yet more meekly, "I hope it was not +an unholy self-love that prompted me to prefer my life to the pudding!" + +The children laughed, as they generally did when Crayshaw spoke, but it +was more at his manner than at his words. And now, peace being restored, +everybody helped everybody else to the delicacies, John discreetly +refraining from any inquiry as to whether this was the first midnight +feast over which his son had presided, but he could not forbear to say, +"I suppose your grandfather's 'tip' is to blame for this?" + +"If everybody was like the Grand," remarked Crayshaw, "Tennyson never +need have said-- + + "'Vex not thou the schoolboy's soul + With thy shabby _tip_.'" + +"Now, Cray," said Brandon, "don't you emulate Valentine's abominable +trick of quoting." + +"And I have often begged you two not to parody the Immortals," said +John. "The small fry you may make fun of, if you please, but let the +great alone." + +"But he ithn't dead," reasoned Master Augustus John; "I don't call any +of thoth fellowth immortal till they're dead." + +"It's a very bad habit," continued his father. + +"And he's made me almost as bad as himself," observed Crayshaw in the +softest and mildest of tones. "Miss Christie said this very morning that +there was no bearing me, and I never did it till I knew him. I used to +be so good, everybody loved me." + +John laughed, but was determined to say his say. + +"You never can take real pleasure again in any poetry that you have +mauled in that manner. Miss Crampton was seriously annoyed when she +found that you had altered the girl's songs, and made them ridiculous." + +The last time, in fact, that Johnnie and Crayshaw had been together, +they had deprived themselves of their natural rest in order to carry out +these changes; and the first time Miss Crampton gave a music lesson +after their departure, she opened the book at one of their improved +versions, which ran as follows:-- + + "Wink to me only with thy nose, + And I will sing through mine." + +Miss Crampton hated boyish vulgarity; she turned the page, but matters +were no better. The two youths had next been at work on a song in which +a muff of a man, who offers nothing particular in return, requests +'Nancy' to gang wi' him, leaving her home, her dinner, her brooches, her +best gowns, &c., behind, to walk through snow-drifts, blasts, and other +perils by his side, and afterwards strew flowers on his clay. Desirous +as it seemed to show that the young person was not so misguided as her +silence has hitherto left the world to think, they had added a verse, +which ran as follows:-- + + "'Ah, wilt thou thus, for his loved sake, + All manner of hardships dare to know?' + The fair one smiled whenas he spake, + And promptly answered, 'No, sir; no,'" + +"Cray," said John Mortimer, observing the boy's wan appearance, "how +could you think of sitting up so late?" + +"Why, the thupper wath on purpoth for him," exclaimed Johnnie. "We gave +it in hith honour, ath a mark of thympathy." + +"Because he was burnt out," said Gladys. "Papa, did you know? his +tutor's house was burnt down, and the boys had to escape in the night." + +"But it wath a great lark," observed Johnnie, "and he knowth he thought +tho." + +"Yes," said Crayshaw, folding his hands with farcical mock meekness, +"but I saved hardly anything--nothing whatever, in fact, but my Yankee +accent, and that only by taking it between my teeth." + +"There was not enough of it to be worth saving, my dear boy," said +Brandon. + +Crayshaw's face for once assumed a genuine expression, one of alarm. He +was distinguished at school for the splendid Yankee dialect he could put +on, as Johnnie was for his mastery of a powerful Devonshire lingo; but +if scarcely a hint of his birthplace remained in his daily speech, and +he had not noticed any change, there was surely danger lest this +interesting accomplishment should be declining also. + +"I am always imitating the talk I hear in the cottages," he remarked; "I +may have lost it so." + +"Perhaps, as Cray goes to so many places, it may get scattered about," +said little Bertram; but he was speedily checked by Johnnie, who +observed with severity that they didn't want any "thrimp thauth." + +"He mutht thimmer," said Johnnie, "thath what he mutht do. He mutht be +thrown into an iron pot, with a gallon of therry cobbler, and a pumpkin +pie, and thome baked beanth, and a copy of the Biglow Paperth, and a +handful of thalt, and they mutht all thimmer together till he geth +properly flavoured again." + +"Wouldn't it be safer if he was only dipped in?" asked the same "shrimp" +who had spoken before. + +As this was the second time he had taken this awful liberty, he would +probably have been dismissed the assembly but for the presence of his +father. As it was, Johnnie and Crayshaw both looked at him, not fiercely +but steadily, whereupon the little fellow with deep blushes slid gently +from his chair under the table. + +A few days after this midnight repast, Emily, knowing that John Mortimer +was away a good deal, and having a perfectly gratuitous notion that his +children must be dull in consequence, got Valentine to drive her over +one morning to invite them to spend a day at Brandon's house. + +A great noise of shouting, drumming on battledores, and blowing through +discordant horns, let them know, as they came up the lane, that the +community was in a state of high activity; and when they reached the +garden gate they were just in time to see the whole family vanish round +a corner, running at full speed after a donkey on which Johnnie was +riding. + +The visitors drove inside the gate, and waited five minutes, when the +donkey, having made the circuit of the premises, came galloping up, the +whole tribe of young Mortimers after him. They received Emily with +loving cordiality, and accounted for the violent exercise they had been +taking by the declaration that this donkey never would go at all, unless +he heard a great noise and clatter at his heels. + +"So that if Johnnie wanted to go far, as far as to London," observed one +of the panting family, "it would be awkward, wouldn't it?" + +"And he's only a second-hand donkey, either," exclaimed little Janie in +deep disparagement of the beast; "father bought him of the blacksmith." + +"But isn't it good fun to see him go so fast?" cried another. "Would you +like to see our donkey do it again?" + +"And see him 'witch the world with noble assmanship," said Valentine. + +Whereupon a voice above said rather faintly. "Hear, hear!" and Crayshaw +appeared leaning out of a first-floor window, the pathetic shadow more +than commonly evident in his eyes, in spite of a mischievous smile. He +had but lately recovered from a rheumatic fever, and was further held +down by frequent attacks of asthma. Yet the moment one of these went +off, the elastic spirits of boyhood enabled him to fling it into the +background of his thoughts, and having rested awhile, as he was then +doing, he became, according to the account Gladys gave of him at that +moment, "just like other boys, only ten times more so!" + +Emily now alighted, and as they closed about her and hemmed her in, +donkey and all, she felt inclined to move her elbows gently, as she had +sometimes seen John do, in order to clear a little space about him. "Why +does not Cray come down, too?" she asked. + +"I think he has had enough of the beast," said Barbara, "for yesterday +he was trying to make him jump; but the donkey and Cray could not agree +about it. He would not jump, and at last he pitched Cray over his head." + +"Odd," said Valentine; "that seems a double contradiction to the proverb +that 'great wits jump.'" Valentine loved to move off the scene, leaving +a joke with his company. He now drove away, and Johnnie informed Emily +that he had already been hard at work that morning. + +"I've a right to enjoy mythelf after it," he added, looking round in a +patronising manner, "and I have. I've not had a better lark, in fact, +since Grand was a little boy." + +By these kind, though preposterous words, the assembly was stimulated +to action. The frightful clatter, drumming, and blowing of horns began +again, and the donkey set off with all his might, the Mortimers after +him. When he returned, little Bertram was seated on his back. "Johnnie +and Cray have something very particular to do," she was informed with +gravity. + +"For their holiday task?" + +"Oh no, for that lovely electrifying machine of cousin Val's. Cray is +always writing verses; he is going to be a poet. Johnnie was saying last +week that it was not at all hard to turn poetry into Latin, and Val said +he should have the machine if he could translate some that Cray wrote +the other day. Do you think the Romans had any buttons and buttonholes?" + +"I don't know. Why?" + +"Because there are buttons in one of the poems. Cray says it is a +tribute--a tribute to this donkey that father has, just given us. He was +inspired to write it when he saw him hanging his head over the yard +gate." + +Thereupon the verses, copied in a large childish hand, were produced and +read aloud:-- + + A TRIBUTE. + + The jackass brayed; + And all his passionate dream was in that sound + Which, to the stables round + And other tenements, told of packs that weighed + On his brown haunches; also that, alas! + His true heart sighed for Jenny, that fair ass + Who backward still and forward paced + With panniers and the curate's children graced. + Then, when she took no heed, but turned aside + Her head, he shook his ears + As much as to say "Great are--as these--my fears." + And while I wept to think how love that preyed + On the deep heart not worth a button seemed + To her for whom he dreamed; + And while the red sun stained the welkin wide, + And summer lightnings on the horizon played, + Again the jackass brayed. + +"And here's the other," said Gladys. "Johnnie says, it would be much +the easier to do, only he is doubtful about the 'choker.'" + + THE SCHOOLBOY TO HIS DRESS SUIT. + + Nice is broiled salmon, whitebait's also nice + With bread and butter served, no shaving thinner. + _Entrées_ are good; but what is even ice-- + Cream ice--to him that's made to dress for dinner? + Oh my dress boots, my studs, and my white tie + Termed choker (emblem of this heart's pure aim), + Why are good things to eat your meed? Oh why + Must swallow-tails be donned for tasting game? + The deep heart questions vainly,--not for ease + Or joy were such invented;--but this know, + I'd rather dine off hunks of bread and cheese + Than feast in state rigged out in my dress clo'. + + G.C. + +Emily, after duly admiring these verses, gave her invitation, and it was +accepted with delight. Nothing, they said, could be more convenient. +Father had told them how Mr. Brandon was having the long wing of the +house pulled down, the part where cousin Val's room used to be; so he +had been obliged to turn out his nests, and his magic lantern, and many +other things that he had when he was a little boy. + +"And he says we shall inherit them." + +"And when father saw him sitting on a heap of bricks among his things, +he says it put him in mind of Marius on the ruins of Carthage." + +"So now we can fetch them all away." + +Emily then departed, after stipulating that the two little ones, her +favourites, should come also. "Darlings!" she exclaimed, when she saw +their stout little legs so actively running to ask Miss Christie's +leave. "Will my boy ever look at me with such clear earnest eyes? Shall +I ever see such a lovely flush on his face, or hear such joyous laughter +from him?" + +Time was to answer this question for her, and a very momentous month for +the whole family began its course. Laura, writing from Paris to Liz, +made it evident to those who knew anything of the matter, that Mrs. +Melcombe, as she thought, had carried her out of harm's way; and it is a +good thing Laura did not know with what perfect composure and ambitious +hope Joseph made his preparations for the voyage. The sudden change of +circumstances and occupation, and the new language he had to learn, woke +him thoroughly from his dream, and though it had been for some long time +both deep and strong, yet it was to him now as other dreams "when one +awaketh;" and Laura herself, now that she had been brought face to face, +not with her lover, but with facts, was much more reasonable than +before. Brandon had said to her pointedly, in the presence of her +sister-in-law, "If you and this young man had decided to marry, no law, +human or divine, could have forbidden it." But at the same time Amelia +had said, "Laura, you know very well that though you love to make +romances about him, you would not give up one of the comforts of life +for his sake." + +Laura, in fact, had scarcely believed in the young man's love till she +had been informed that it was over. She longed to be sought more than +she cared to be won; it soothed and comforted what had been a painful +sense of disadvantage to know that one man at least had sighed for her +in vain. He would not have been a desirable husband, but as a former +lover she could feign him what she pleased, and while, under new and +advantageous circumstances, he became more and more like what she +feigned, it was not surprising that in the end she forgot her feigning, +and found her feet entangled for good and all in the toils she herself +had spread for them. + +In the meantime Johnnie and Crayshaw, together with the younger +Mortimers, did much as they liked, till Harrow school reopened, when the +two boys returned, departing a few hours earlier than was necessary that +they might avoid Miss Crampton, a functionary whom Johnny held in great +abhorrence. + +At the same period Grand suddenly rallied, and, becoming as well as +ever, his son, who had made many journeys backwards and forwards to see +him, brought him home, buying at the railway station, as he stepped +into his father's carriage, the _Times_ and the _Wigfield Advertiser_, +and _True Blue_, in each of which he saw a piece of news that concerned +himself, though it was told with a difference. + +In the _Times_ was the marriage of Giles Brandon, Esq., &c., to +Dorothea, elder daughter of Edward Graham, Esq.; and in the local paper, +with an introduction in the true fustian style of mock concealment, came +the same announcement, followed by a sufficiently droll and malicious +account of the terrible inconvenience another member of this family had +suffered a short time since by being snowed up, in which state he still +continued, as snow in that part of the world had forgotten how to melt. + +A good deal that was likely to mortify Valentine followed this, but it +was no more than he deserved. + +John laughed. "Well, Giles is a dear fellow," he said, throwing down the +paper. "I am pleased at his marriage, and they must submit to be laughed +at like other people." + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +WEARING THE WILLOW. + + + "My Lord Sebastian, + The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness + And time to speak it in; you rub the sore + When you should bring the plaster." + + _The Tempest._ + +When John Mortimer reached the banking-house next morning, he found +Valentine waiting for him in his private sitting-room. + +"I thought my uncle would hardly be coming so early, John," he said, +"and that perhaps you would spare me a few minutes to talk things over." + +"To be sure," said John, and looking more directly at Valentine, he +noticed an air of depression and gloom which seemed rather too deep to +be laid to the account of the _True Blue_. + +He was stooping as he sat, and slightly swinging his hat by the brim +between his knees. He had reddened at first, with a sullen and +half-defiant expression, but this soon faded, and, biting his lips, he +brought himself with evident effort to say-- + +"Well, John, I've done for myself, you see; Giles has married her. +Serves me right, quite right. I've nothing to say against it." + +"No, I devoutly hope you have not," exclaimed John, to whom the unlucky +situation became evident in an instant. + +"Grand always has done me the justice to take my part as regards my +conduct about this hateful second engagement. He always knew that I +would have married poor Lucy if they would have let me--married her and +made the best of my frightful, shameful mistake. But as you know, Mrs. +Nelson, Lucy's mother, made me return her letters a month ago, and said +it must be broken off, unless I would let it go dragging on and on for +two years at least, and that was impossible, you know, John, +because--because, I so soon found out what I'd done." + +"Wait a minute, my dear fellow," John interrupted hastily, "you have +said nothing yet but what expresses very natural feelings. I remark, in +reply, that your regret at what you have long seen to be unworthy +conduct need no longer disturb you on the lady's account, she having now +married somebody else." + +"Yes," said Valentine, sighing restlessly. + +"And," John went on, looking intently at him, "on your own account I +think you need not at all regret that you had no chance of going and +humbly offering yourself to her again, for I feel certain that she would +have considered it insulting her to suppose she could possibly overlook +such a slight. Let me speak plainly, and say that she could have +regarded such a thing in no other light." + +Then, giving him time to think over these words, which evidently +impressed him, John presently went on, "It would be ridiculous, however, +now, for Dorothea to resent your former conduct, or St. George either. +Of course they will be quite friendly towards you, and you may depend +upon it that all this will very soon appear as natural as possible; +you'll soon forget your former relation towards your brother's wife; in +fact you must." + +Valentine was silent awhile, but when he did speak he said, "You feel +sure, then, that she would have thought such a thing an insult?" He +meant, you feel sure, then, that I should have had no chance even if my +brother had not come forward. + +"Perfectly sure," answered John with confidence. "That was a step which, +from the hour you made it, you never could have retraced." + +Here there was another silence; then-- + +"Well, John, if you think so," said the poor fellow--"this was rather a +sudden blow to me, though." + +John pitied him; he had made a great fool of himself, and he was +smarting for it keenly. His handsome young face was very pale, but John +was helping him to recollect his better self, and he knew it. "I shall +not allude to this any more," he continued. + +"I'm very glad to hear you say so," said John. + +"I came partly to say--to tell you that now I am better, quite well, in +fact, I cannot live at home any longer. At home! Well, I meant in St. +George's house, any longer." + +The additional knowledge John had that minute acquired of the state of +Valentine's feeling, or what he supposed himself to feel, gave more than +usual confidence and cordiality to his answer. + +"Of course not. You will be considering now what you mean to do, and my +father and I must help you. In the first place there is that two +thousand pounds; you have never had a shilling of it yet. My father was +speaking of that yesterday." + +"Oh," answered Valentine, with evident relief, and with rather a bitter +smile, "I thought he proposed to give me that as a wedding present, and +if so, goodness knows I never expect to touch a farthing of it." + +"That's as hereafter may be," said John, leading him away from the +dangerous subject. Valentine began every sentence with a restless sigh. + +"I never chose to mention it," he remarked. "I had no right to consider +it as anything else, nor did I." + +"He does not regard it in any such light," said John. "He had left it to +you in his will, but decided afterwards to give it now. You know he +talks of his death, dear old man, as composedly as of to-morrow +morning. He was reminding me of this money the other day when he was +unwell, and saying that, married or unmarried, you should have it made +over to you." + +"I'm very deeply, deeply obliged to him," said Valentine, with a fervour +that was almost emotion. "It seems, John, as if that would help +me,--might get me out of the scrape, for I really did not know where to +turn. I've got nothing to do, and had nothing to live on, and I'm two +and twenty." + +"Yes." + +"I do feel as if I was altogether in such an ignominious position." + +As John quite agreed with him in this view of his position, he remained +silent. + +Valentine went on, "First, my going to Cambridge came to nothing on +account of my health. Then a month ago, as I didn't want to go and live +out in New Zealand by myself, couldn't in fact, the New Zealand place +was transferred to Liz, and she and Dick are to go to it, Giles saying +that he would give me a thousand pounds instead of it. I shall not take +that, of course." + +"Because he will want his income for himself," John interrupted. + +Valentine proceeding, "And now since I left off learning to farm,--for +that's no use here,--I've got nothing on earth to do." + +"Have you thought of anything yet?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, out with it." + +"John," remarked Valentine, as the shadow of a smile flitted across +John's face, "you always seem to me to know what a fellow is thinking +of! Perhaps you would not like such a thing,--wouldn't have it?" + +John observed that he was getting a little less gloomy as he proceeded. + +"But whether or not, that two thousand pounds will help me to some +career, certainly, and entirely save me from what I could not bear to +think of, _her_ knowing that I was dependent on Giles, and despising me +for it." + +"Pooh," exclaimed John, a little chafed at his talking in this way, +"what is St. George's wife likely to know, or to care, as to how her +brother-in-law derives his income? But I quite agree with you that you +have no business to be dependent on Giles; he has done a great deal for +his sisters he should now have his income for himself." + +"Yes," said Valentine. + +"You have always been a wonderfully united family," observed John +pointedly; "there is every reason why that state of things should +continue." + +"Yes," repeated Valentine, receiving the covert lecture resignedly. + +"And there is no earthly end, good or bad, to be served," continued +John, "by the showing of irritation or gloom on your part, because your +brother has chosen to take for himself what you had previously and with +all deliberation thrown away." + +"I suppose not, John," said Valentine quite humbly. + +"Then what can you be thinking of?" + +"I don't know." + +"You have not talked to any one as you have done to me this morning?" + +"No, certainly not." + +"Well, then, decide while the game is in your own hand that you never +will." + +So far from being irritated or sulky at the wigging that John was +bestowing on him, Valentine was decidedly the better for it. The colour +returned to his face, he sat upright in his chair, and then he got up +and stood on the rug, as if John's energy had roused him, and opened his +eyes also, to his true position. + +"You don't want to cover yourself with ridicule, do you?" continued +John, seeing his advantage. + +"Why, even if you cared to take neither reason, nor duty, nor honour +into the question, surely the only way to save your own dignity from +utter extinction is to be, or at least seem to be, quite indifferent as +to what the lady may have chosen to do, but very glad that your brother +should have taken a step which makes it only fair to you that he and his +wife should forget your former conduct." + +"John," said Valentine, "I acknowledge that you are right." + +John had spoken quite as much, indeed more, in Brandon's interest than +in Valentine's. The manner in which the elder had suffered the younger +to make himself agreeable and engage himself to Dorothea Graham, and +how, when he believed she loved him, he had made it possible for them to +marry, were partly known to him and partly surmised. And now it seemed +in mockery of everything that was decent, becoming, and fair that the +one who had forsaken her should represent himself as having waked, after +a short delusion, and discovered that he loved her still, letting his +brother know this, and perhaps all the world. Such would be a painful +and humiliating position also for the bride. It might even affect the +happiness of the newly-married pair; but John did not wish to hint at +these graver views of the subject; he was afraid to give them too much +importance, and he confidently reckoned on Valentine's volatile +disposition to stand his friend, and soon enable him to get over his +attachment. All that seemed wanting was some degree of present +discretion. + +"John, I acknowledge that you are right," repeated Valentine, after an +interval of thought. + +"You acknowledge--now we have probed this subject and got to the bottom +of it--that it demands of you absolute silence, and at first some +discretion?" + +"Yes; that is settled." + +"You mean to take my view?" + +"Yes, I do." + +As he stood some time lost in thought, John let him alone and began to +write, till, thinking he had pondered enough, he looked up and alluded +to the business Valentine had come about. + +"You may as well tell it me, unless you want to take my father into your +council also: he will be here soon." + +"No; I thought it would be more right if I spoke to you first, John, +before my uncle heard of it," said Valentine. + +"Because it is likely to concern me longer?" asked John. + +"Yes; you see what I mean; I should like, if uncle and you would let me, +to go into the bank; I mean as a clerk--nothing more, of course." + +"I should want some time to consider that matter," said John. "I was +half afraid you would propose this, Val. It's so like you to take the +easiest thing that offers." + +"Is it on my account or on your own that you shall take time?" + +"On both. So far as you are concerned, it is no career to be a banker's +clerk." + +"No; but, John, though I hardly ever think of it, I cannot always forget +that there is only one life between me and Melcombe." + +"Very true," said John coolly; "but if it is ill waiting for a dead +man's shoes, what must it be waiting for a dead child's shoes?" + +"I do not even wish or care to be ever more than a clerk," said +Valentine; "but that, I think, would fill up my time pleasantly." + +"Between this and what?" + +"Between this and the time when I shall have finally decided what I will +do. I think eventually I shall go abroad." + +John knew by this time that he would very gladly not have Valentine with +him, or rather under him; but an almost unfailing instinct, where his +father was concerned, assured him that the old man _would_ like it. + +"Shall I speak to my father about it for you?" he said. + +"No, John, by no means, if you do not like it. I would not be so unfair +as let him have a hint of it till you have taken the time you said you +wanted." + +"All right," said John; "but where, in case you became a clerk here, do +you propose to live?" + +"Dick A'Court lived in lodgings for years," said Valentine, "so does +John A'Court now, over the pastrycook's in the High Street." + +"And you think you could live over the shoemaker's?" + +"Why not?" + +"I have often met Dick meekly carrying home small parcels of grocery for +himself. I should like to catch you doing anything of the sort!" + +"I believe I can do anything now I have learned to leave off quoting. I +used to be always doing it, and to please Dorothea I have quite given it +up." + +"Well," said John, "let that pass." + +He knew as well as possible what would be his father's wish, and he +meant to let him gratify it. He was a good son, and, as he had +everything completely in his own power, he may be said to have been very +indulgent to his father, but the old man did not know it any more than +he did. + +Mr. Augustus Mortimer had a fine house, handsomely appointed and +furnished. From time to time, as his son's family had increased, he had +added accommodation. There was an obvious nursery; there was an evident +school-room, perfectly ready for the son, and only waiting, he often +thought, till it should be said to his father, "Come up higher." + +It was one of John's theories that there should be a certain homely +simplicity in the dress, food, and general surroundings of youthful +humanity; that it should not have to walk habitually on carpets so rich +that little dusty feet must needs do damage, and appear intruders; nor +be made to feel all day that somebody was disturbed if somebody else was +making himself happy according to his lights, and in his own fashion. + +But of late Mr. Augustus Mortimer had begun to show a degree of +infirmity which sometimes made his son uncomfortable that he should have +to live alone. To bring those joyous urchins and little, laughing, +dancing, playful girls into his house was not to be thought of. What was +wanted was some young relative to live with him, who would drive him +into the town and home again, dine with him, live in his presence, and +make his house cheerful. In short, as John thought the matter over, he +perceived that it would be a very good thing for his father to have +Valentine as an inmate, and that it would be everything to Valentine to +be with his father. + +People always seemed to manage comfortable homes for Valentine, and make +good arrangements for him, as fast as he brought previous ones to +nought. + +Very few sons like to bring other people into their fathers' houses, +specially in the old age of the latter; but John Mortimer was not only +confident of his own supreme influence, but he was more than commonly +attached to his father, and had long been made to feel that on his own +insight and forethought depended almost all that gave the old man +pleasure. + +His father seldom disturbed any existing arrangements, though he often +found comfort from their being altered for him; so John decided to +propose to him to have his brother's son to live with him. In a few +days, therefore, he wrote to Valentine that he had made up his mind, and +would speak to his father for him, which he did, and saw that the +nephew's wish gave decided pleasure; but when he made his other proposal +he was quite surprised (well as he knew his father) at the gladness it +excited, at those thanks to himself for having thought of such a thing, +and at certain little half-expressed hints which seemed intended to meet +and answer any future thoughts his son might entertain as to Valentine's +obtaining more influence than he would approve. But John was seldom +surprised by an after-thought; he was almost always happy enough to have +done his thinking beforehand. + +He was in the act of writing a letter to Valentine the next morning at +his own house, and was there laying the whole plan before him, when he +saw him driving rapidly up to the door in the little pony chaise, now +the only carriage kept at Brandon's house. He sprang out as if in urgent +haste, and burst into the room in a great hurry. + +"John," he exclaimed, "can you lend me your phaeton, or give me a mount +as far as the junction? Fred Walker has had one of his attacks, and +Emily is in a terrible fright. She wants another opinion: she wishes Dr. +Limpsey to be fetched, and she wants Grand to come to her." + +This last desire, mentioned as the two hurried together to the stable, +showed John that Emily apprehended danger. + +Emily's joyous and impassioned nature, though she lived safely, as it +were, in the middle of her own sweet world--saw the best of it, made the +best of it, and coloured it all, earth and sky, with her tender +hopefulness--was often conscious of something yet to come, ready and +expectant of _the rest of it_. The rest of life, she meant; the rest of +sorrow, love, and feeling. + +She had a soul full of unused treasures of emotion, and pure, clear +depths of passion that as yet slumbered unstirred. If her heart was a +lute, its highest and lowest chords had never been sounded hitherto. +This also she was aware of, and she knew what their music would be like +when it came. + +She had been in her girlhood the chief idol of many hearts; but joyous, +straightforward, and full of childlike sweetness, she had looked on all +her adorers in such an impartially careless fashion, that not one of +them could complain. Then, having confided to John Mortimer's wife that +she could get up no enthusiasm for any of them, and thought there could +be none of that commodity in her nature, she had at last consented, on +great persuasion, to take the man who had loved her all her life, +"because he wouldn't go away, and she didn't know what else to do with +him; he was such a devoted little fellow, too, and she liked him so much +better than either of his brothers!" + +So they were married; Captain Walker was excessively proud and happy in +his wife, and Mrs. Walker was as joyous and sweet as ever. She had +satisfied the kindly pity which for a long while had made her very +uncomfortable on his account; and, O happy circumstance! she became in +course of time the mother of the most attractive, wonderful, and +interesting child ever born. In the eyes, however, of the invidious +world, he was uncommonly like his plain sickly father, and not, with +that exception, at all distinguished from other children. + +John made haste to send Valentine off to the junction, undertook himself +to drive his father over to see Emily, and gathered from the short +account Valentine gave whilst the horse was put too, that Fred Walker +had been taken ill during the night with a fainting fit. He had come +from India for his year's leave in a very poor state of health, and with +apprehended heart disease. Only ten days previously Emily had persuaded +him that it would be well to go to London for advice. But a fainting fit +had taken place, and the medical man called in had forbidden this +journey for the present. He had appeared to recover, so that there +seemed to be no more ground for uneasiness than usual; but this second +faintness had lasted long enough to terrify all those about him. + +Grand was very fond of his late brother's stepdaughter; she had always +been his favourite, partly on account of her confiding ease and liking +for him, partly because of the fervent religiousness that she had shown +from a child. + +The most joyous and gladsome natures are often most keenly alive to +impressions of reverence, and wonder, and awe. Emily's mind longed and +craved to annex itself to all things fervent, deep, and real. As she +walked on the common grass, she thought the better of it because the +feet of Christ had trodden it also. There were things which she--as the +angels--"desired to look into;" but she wanted also to do the right +thing, and to love the doing of it. + +With all this half Methodistic fervour, and longing to lie close at the +very heart of Christianity, she had by nature a strange fearlessness; +her religion, which was full of impassioned loyalty, and her faith, +which seemed to fold her in, had elements in them of curiosity and awed +expectation, which made death itself appear something grand and happy, +quite irrespective of a simply religious reason. It would show her "the +rest of it." She could not do long without it; and often in her most +joyous hours she felt that the crown of life was death's most grand +hereafter. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +AN EASY DISMISSAL. + + + "Admired Miranda! + Indeed the top of admiration! worth + What's dearest to the world." + + _The Tempest._ + +"Well, father, it's too true!" + +"You don't say so?" + +"Yes; he died, Dr. Mainby's housekeeper says, at five o'clock this +morning. The doctor was there all night, and he's now come home, and +gone to bed." + +"One of the most unfortunate occurrences I ever heard of. Well, that +that is, is--and can't be helped. I'd have given something (over and +above the ten-and-sixpence) to have had it otherwise; but I 'spose, +Jemmy, I 'spose we understand the claims of decency and humanity." It +was the editor of the _True Blue_ who said this. + +"I 'spose we do," answered the son sturdily, though sulkily; "but that's +the very best skit that Blank Blank ever did for us." + +"Blank Blank" was the signature under which various satirical verses +appeared in the _True Blue_. + +"Paid for, too--ten-and-six. Well, here goes, Jemmy." He took a paper +from his desk, read it over with a half smile. "One or two of the jokes +in it will keep," he observed; then, when his son nodded assent, he +folded it up and threw it in the fire. This was a righteous action. He +never got any thanks for doing it; also a certain severity that he was +inclined to feel against the deceased for dying just then, he quickly +turned (from a sense of justice) towards the living members of his +family, and from them to their party, the "pinks" in general. Then he +began to moralise. "Captain Walker--and so he's dead--died at five +o'clock this morning. It's very sudden. Why Mrs. Walker was driving him +through the town three days ago." + +"Yes," answered the son; "but when a man has heart complaint, you never +know where you are with him." + +A good many people in Wigfield and round it discussed that death during +the day; but few, on the whole, in a kindlier spirit than had been +displayed by the editor of the opposition paper. Mrs. A'Court, wife of +the vicar, and mother of Dick A'Court, remarked that she was the last +person to say anything unkind, but she did value consistency. + +"Everybody knows that my Dick is a high churchman; they sent for him to +administer the holy communion, and he found old Mr. Mortimer there, a +layman, who is almost, I consider, a Methodist, he's so low church; and +poor Captain Walker was getting him to pray extempore by his bed. Even +afterward he wouldn't let him out of his sight. And Dick never +remonstrated. Now, that is not what I could have hoped of my son; but +when I told him so, he was very much hurt, said the old man was a saint, +and he wouldn't interfere. 'Well, my dear,' I said, 'you must do as you +please; but remember that your mother values consistency.'" + +When Mrs. Melcombe, who, with her son and Laura, was still at Paris, +heard of it, she also made a characteristic remark. "Dear me, how sad!" +she exclaimed; "and there will be that pretty bride, Mrs. Brandon, in +mourning for months, till all her wedding dresses, in fact, are out of +fashion." + +Mrs. Melcombe had left Melcombe while it was at its loveliest, all the +hawthorns in flower, the peonies and lilies of the valley. She chose +first to go to Paris, and then when Peter did not seem to grow, was thin +and pale, she decided--since he never seemed so well as when he had no +lessons to do--that she would let him accompany them on their tour. + +Melcombe was therefore shut up again; and the pictures of Daniel +Mortimer and the young lieutenant, his uncle, remained all the summer in +the dark. But Wigfield House was no sooner opened after Captain Walker's +funeral than back came the painters, cleaners, and upholsterers, to +every part of it; and the whole place, including the garden, was set in +order for the bride. + +Emily was not able to have any of the rest and seclusion she so much +needed; but almost immediately took her one child and went to stay with +her late husband's father till she could decide where to live. + +Love that has been received affects the heart which has lost it quite +differently from a loss where the love has been bestowed. The +remembrance of it warms the heart towards the dear lost donor; but if +the recollection of life spent together is without remorse, if, as in +Emily's case, the dead man has been wedded as a tribute to his +acknowledged love, and if he has not only been allowed to bestow his +love in peace without seeing any fault or failing that could give him +one twinge of jealousy--if he has been considered, and liked thoroughly, +and, in easy affectionate companionship, his wife has walked beside him, +delighting him, and pleased to do so--then, when he is gone, comes, as +the troubled heart calms itself after the alarms of death and parting, +that one, only kind of sorrow which can ever be called with truth "the +luxury of grief." + +In her mourning weeds, when she reached Fred's father's house, Emily +loved to sit with her boy on her lap, and indulge in passionate tears, +thinking over how fond poor Fred had been, and how proud of her. There +was no sting in her grief, no compunction, for she knew perfectly well +how happy she had made him; and there was not the anguish, of personal +loss, and want, and bereavement. + +She looked pale when she reached Mr. Walker's house, but not worn. She +liked to tell him the details of his son's short illness; and the +affectionate, irascible old man not only liked to hear them, but derived +pleasure from seeing this fine young woman, this interesting widow, +sitting mourning for his son. So he made much of her, and pushed her +sister Louisa at once into the background for her sake. + +The sisters having married twin brothers, Mr. Walker's elder sons, +neither had looked on himself as heir to the exclusion of the other; but +Emily's pale morsel of a child was at once made more important than his +father had ever been. Louisa, staying also with her husband in the +house, was only the expectant mother of a grandson for him; and the rich +old man now began almost immediately to talk of how he should bring up +Emily's boy, and what he should do for him--taking for granted, from the +first, that his favourite daughter-in-law was to live with him and keep +his house. + +Louisa took this change in Mr. Walker very wisely and sweetly--did not +even resent it, when, in the presence of his living son, he would +aggravate himself into lamentations over the dead one, as if in him he +had lost his all. + +Sometimes he wondered a little himself at this quiescence--at the slight +impression he seemed to make on his son, whom he had fully intended to +rouse to remonstrance about it--at the tender way in which the young +wife ministered to her sister, and at the great change for the worse +that he soon began to observe in Emily's appearance. + +Nobody liked to tell him the cause, and he would not see it; even when +it became an acknowledged fact, which every one else talked of, that +the little one was ill, he resolutely refused to see it; said the +weather was against a child born in India--blamed the east wind. Even +when the family doctor tried to let him know that the child was not +likely to be long for this world, he was angry, with all the +unreasonable volubility of a man who thinks others are deceiving him, +rather than grieved for the peril of the little life and the anguish of +the mother's heart. + +Now came indeed "the rest of it." What a rending away of heart and life +it seemed to let go the object of this absorbing, satisfying love! Now +she was to lose, where the love had been bestowed; and she felt as if +death itself was in the bitter cup. + +It was not till the child was actually passing away, after little more +than a fortnight's illness, that his grandfather could be brought to +believe in his danger. He had been heaping promises of what he would do +for him on the mother, as if to raise her courage. With kindly +wrong-headed obstinacy he had collected and detailed to her accounts of +how ill other children had been and had recovered, had been getting +fresh medical opinions, and proposing to try new remedies; but no sooner +was all over, and the afflicted mother was led from her dead child by +his son, than he tormented himself and the doctors by demanding why he +had been kept in the dark so long, why he had not been allowed to try +change of air, why, if the symptoms showed mortal disease from the +first, he had been allowed to set his heart on the child as he had done. +No one now had anything to say to Emily. She had only been a widow a +month, and the first loss had had no bitterness in it, though she had +sorrowed with the tender affection of a loyal heart. The death of her +child was almost the loss of all. + +Valentine in the meantime had taken his sister Liz to a little quiet +place; there, as her marriage could not be put off, and the ship was +decided on in which they were to sail for New Zealand, he acted the +part of father, and gave her away at the quietest wedding possible, +seeing her off afterwards, and returning to take up his abode in his +uncle's house, about three weeks after the death of Emily's little +child. Not one of the late inhabitants had been left in his old home +excepting Mrs. Henfrey, who remained to receive the bride, and was still +there, though the newly-married pair had been home a week. Valentine had +found ample time to consider how he should behave to Dorothea, Mrs. +Brandon. He had also become accustomed to the thought of her being out +of his reach, and the little excitement of wonder as to how they should +meet was not altogether displeasing to him. "Giles will be inclined, no +doubt, to be rather jealous of me," was his thought; "I shall be a bad +fellow if I don't take care to show him that there is no need for it. D. +must do the same. Of course she will. Sweet D.! Well, it can't be helped +now." + +It was natural enough that he should cogitate over the best way of +managing his first meeting with them; but he had not been an hour in his +uncle's house before he found that Grand was shortly going to give a +great dinner party for the bride mainly consisting of relatives and very +old friends. This, it was evident, would be the most natural time for +him to present himself. + +Valentine loved comfort and luxury, and finding himself established +quite as if he had been a younger son in the house--a horse kept for him +to ride, and a small sitting-room set aside in which he could see his +friends--he experienced a glow of pleasure at first, and he soon +perceived that his presence was a real pleasure to his old uncle; so, +settling himself with characteristic ease in his place, he felt hourly +more and more content with his new home. + +It was not till he came down into the drawing-room before dinner on the +day of the party that he began to feel excited and agitated. A good +many of the guests were already present, he went up to one and to +another, and then advanced to speak to Miss Christie, who was arrayed in +a wonderful green gown, bought new for the occasion. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Brandon," sounded clearly all down the long room, and he +turned slowly and saw them. For one instant they appeared to be standing +quite still, and so he often saw them side by side in his thoughts ever +after. The bride looked serenely sweet, a delicate blush tinging her +face, which was almost of infantine fairness and innocence; then old +Grand's white head came in the way as he advanced to meet her and take +her hand, bowing low with old-fashioned formality and courtesy. Several +other people followed and claimed her acquaintance, so that they were +closed in for the moment. Then he felt that now was the time for him to +come forward, which he did, and as the others parted again to let Grand +take her to a seat, they met face to face. + +"Ah, Valentine," she said, so quietly, with such an unexcited air; she +gave him her hand for a moment, and it was over. Then he shook hands +with his brother, their eyes met, and though both tried hard to be +grave, neither could forbear to smile furtively; but Giles was much the +more embarrassed of the two. + +During dinner, though Valentine talked and laughed, he could not help +stealing a minute now and then to gaze at the bride, till John, darting +a sudden look at him, brought him to his senses; but he cogitated about +her, though he did not repeat the offence. "Is it lilac, or grey, or +what, that she has on? That pale stuff must be satin, for it shines. Oh, +meant for mourning perhaps. How wonderfully silent Giles is! How quiet +they both are!" + +This observation he made to himself several times during the evening, +catching the words of one and the other whatever part of the room he was +in, almost as distinctly as they did themselves; but he only looked +once at Dorothea, when something made him feel or think that she had +drawn her glove off. His eyes wandered then to her hand. Yes, it was +so--there was the wedding ring. + +With what difficulty, with what disgrace he had contrived to escape from +marrying this young woman! His eyes 'wandered round the room. Just so +she would have looked, and every one else would have looked, if this +wedding dinner had been made for _his_ bride, but he would not have been +sitting up in the corner with three girls about him, laughing and making +laugh. No, and he would not have stood rather remote from her, as Giles +did. He thought he would have been proudly at her side. Oh, how could he +have been such a fool? how could he? how could he? + +"She would have loved me just as well, just so she would have lifted up +her face, as she does now, and turned towards me."--No! The bride and +her husband looked at one another for an instant, and in one beat of the +heart he knew not only that no such look had ever been in her eyes for +him, but he felt before he had time to reason his conviction down, that +in all likelihood there never would have been. Then, when he found that +Dorothea seemed scarcely aware of his presence, he determined to return +the compliment, got excited, and was the life and soul of the younger +part of the company. So that when the guests dispersed, many were the +remarks they made about it. + +"Well, young Mortimer need not have been quite so determined to show his +brother how delighted he was not to be standing in his shoes." "Do you +think Brandon married her out of pity?" "She is a sweet young creature. +I never saw newly-married people take so little notice of one another. +It must have been a trial to her to meet young Mortimer again, for no +doubt she was attached to him." + +A quarter of an hour after the bride had taken her leave, and when all +the other guests were gone, Valentine went into the hall, feeling very +angry with himself for having forgotten that, as he was now a member of +her host's family, he might with propriety have seen Dorothea into the +carriage. "This," he thought, "shall not occur again." + +The hall doors were open, servants stood about as if waiting still. He +saw a man's figure. Some one, beyond the stream of lamplight which came +from the house, stood on the gravel, where through a window he could +command a view of the staircase. + +It was little past eleven, the moon was up, and as the longest day was +at hand, twilight was hardly over, and only one star here and there hung +out of the heavens. + +"Why, that is Giles," thought Valentine. "Strange! he cannot have sent +Dorothea home alone, surely." + +Giles approached the steps, and Valentine, following the direction of +his eyes, saw a slender figure descending the stairs. + +Dorothea! She was divested now of the shimmering satin and all her +bridal splendour. How sweet and girlish she looked in this more simple +array! Evidently they were going to walk home through the woods and +lanes, see glow-worms and smell the hedge roses. For an instant +Valentine was on the point of proposing to accompany them part of the +way, but recollected himself just in time to withdraw into the shadow +made by a stand of greenhouse plants, and from thence see Giles come up +the steps, take the delicate ungloved hand and lay it on his arm, while +the hall doors were closed behind them. + +Adam and Eve were returning to Paradise on foot. The world was quite a +new world. They wanted to see what it was like by moonlight, now they +were married. + +Valentine walked disconsolately up the stairs, and there at the head of +them, through a wide-open door, he saw a maid. The pale splendours of +Dorothea's gown were lying over her arm, and she was putting gold and +pearls into a case. He darted past as quickly as he could, so glad to +get out of sight, lest she should recognise him, for he shrewdly +suspected that this was the same person who had been sent with Dorothea +to Wigfield, when she first went there--one Mrs. Brand. So, in fact, it +was; her husband was dead, she no longer sailed in old Captain Rollings +yacht, and Brandon had invited her to come and stay in the house a +while, and see her young lady again. + +How glad he was to get away and shelter himself in his own room!--an +uncomfortable sensation this for a fine young man. "What should I have +done but for Grand and John?" was his thought. Grand and John were very +considerate the next day. In the first place, Grand scarcely mentioned +the bride during breakfast; in fact, so far as appeared, he had +forgotten the party altogether. John was also considerate, gave +Valentine plenty to do, and in a way that made him feel the yoke, took +him in hand and saw that he did it. + +It is often a great comfort to be well governed. John had a talent for +government, and under his dominion Valentine had the pleasure of +feeling, for the first time in his life, that he had certain things to +do which must and should be done, after which he had a full right to +occupy himself as he pleased. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A MORNING CALL. + + + "Learn now for all + That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce + By the very truth of it, I care not for you."--_Cymbeline._ + +"John," said Valentine, ten days after this dinner party, "you have not +called on D. yet, nor have I." + +"No," John answered, observing his wish, "and it might not be a bad plan +for us to go together." + +"Thank you, and if you would add the twins to--to make the thing easier +and less formal." + +"Nonsense," said John; "but yes, I'll take some of the children, for of +course you feel awkward." He did not add, "You should not have made such +a fool of yourself," lest Valentine should answer, "I devoutly wish I +had not;" but he went on, "And why don't you say Dorothea, instead of +using a nickname?" + +"I always used to call her D.," said Valentine. + +"All the more reason why you should not now," answered John. + +And Valentine murmured to himself-- + +"'These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, or lose myself in dotage' +(_Antony and Cleopatra_)" This he added from old habit. "I'll quote +everything I can think of to D., just to make her think I have forgotten +her wish that I should leave off quoting; and if that is not doing my +duty by St. George, I should like to know what is. Only that might put +it into his head to quote too, and perhaps he might have the best of it. +I fancy I hear him saying, 'Art thou learned?' I, as William, answer, +'No, sir.' 'Then learn this of me,' he makes reply, 'to have is to have; +for all your writers do consent that _ipse_ is he. Now you are not +_ipse_, for I am he. He, sir, that hath married this woman. Therefore, +you clown, abandon, which is--,' &c., &c. What a fool I am!" + +John, adding the twins and little Bertram to the party, drove over on a +Saturday afternoon, finding no one at home but Mrs. Henfrey. + +"St. George," she said, "has taken to regular work, and sits at his desk +all the morning, and for an hour or two in the afternoon, excepting on +Saturday, when he gives himself a half-holiday, as if he was a +schoolboy." + +"And where was he now?" John asked. + +"Somewhere about the place with Dorothea; he had been grubbing up the +roots of the trees in a corner of the little wood at all leisure times; +he thought of turning it into a vegetable garden." + +"Why, we always had more vegetables than we could use," exclaimed +Valentine, "and we were three times as large a family." + +"Very true, my dear, but they are full of schemes--going to grow some +vegetables, I think, and flowers, for one of the county hospitals. It +would not be like him, you know, to go on as other people do." + +"No," Valentine answered. "And he always loved a little hard work out of +doors; he is wise to take it now, or he would soon get tired of stopping +peaceably at home, playing Benedict in this dull place." + +The children were then sent out to find where the young wife was, and +come and report to their father, telling her that he would pay his call +out of doors. + +"And so you are still here, sister," observed Valentine, willing to +change the subject, for he had been rather disconcerted by a quiet +smile with which she had heard his last speech. + +"Yes, my dear, the fact is, they won't let me go." + +"Ah, indeed?" + +"Of course I never thought they would want me. And the morning after +they came home I mentioned that I had been looking out for a house--that +small house that I consulted John about, and, in fact, took." + +Mrs. Henfrey was hardly ever known to launch into narration. She almost +always broke up her remarks by appeals to one and another of her +listeners, and she now did not go on till John had made the admission +that she had consulted him. She then proceeded with all deliberation-- + +"But you should have seen how vexed St. George looked. He had no idea, +he said, that I should ever think of leaving him; and, indeed, I may +mention to you in confidence, both of you, that he always drew for me +what money I said was wanted for the bills, and he no more thought of +looking at my housekeeping books than my father did." + +"Really," said Valentine. + +He was quite aware of this, to him, insignificant fact, but to have said +more would only have put her out, and he wanted her to talk just then. + +"And so," she continued slowly, "I said to him, I said, 'My dear Giles, +I have had a pleasant home in this house, many, many years, indeed, ever +since you were a child; but it is my opinion (and you will find it is +the general opinion) that every young wife should have her house to +herself.' I did not doubt at all that this was her opinion too, only I +considered that as he had spoken so plainly, she might not like to say +so." + +"No, very likely not," said John, when she stopped, as if stranded, till +somebody helped her on with a remark. + +"You are quite right, John, any one might have thought so; but in a +minute or two. 'Well,' said St. George, 'this is rather a blow;' and +what does that pretty creature do but come and sit by me, and begin to +coax me. 'She wanted me so much, and it would be so kind if I would but +stop and do as I always had done, and she would be so careful to please +me, and she had always thought the house was so beautifully managed, and +everything in such order, and so regular.'" + +"So it is," Valentine put in. "She is quite right there." + +"'And she didn't know how to order the dinner,' she said; and so she +went on, till I said, 'Well, my dears, I don't wish that there should be +any mistake about this for want of a little plain speaking.'" + +"Well?" said John, when she came to a dead stop. + +"And she said, 'You love St. George, don't you, just as much as if he +was related to you?' 'How can any one help loving him?' 'And I know if +you leave us he won't be half so comfortable. And nobody should ever +interfere with you,' So I said I would keep their house for them, and +you may suppose how glad I was to say it, for I'm like a cat, exactly +like a cat--I don't like to leave a place that I am used to, and it +would have been difficult for her to manage." + +"Yes, very." + +"I had often been thinking, when I supposed I had to go, that she would +never remember to see that the table-linen was all used in its proper +turn, and to have the winter curtains changed for white ones before the +sun faded them." + +"You're such a comfortable, dear thing to live with," observed +Valentine, now the narrative was over. "Everybody likes you, you know." + +Mrs. Henfrey smiled complacently, accepting the compliment. She was, to +all strangers, an absolutely uninteresting woman; but her family knew +her merits, and Giles and Valentine were both particularly alive to +them. + +"And so here I am," continued 'sister,' "but it is a pity for poor +Emily, for she wanted me to live in that house, you know, John, with +her." + +"But I thought old Walker was devoted to her," said John. + +"So he was, my dear, so long as her boy was with her; but now she is +nobody, and I am told he shows a willingness to let her go, which is +almost like dismissing her." + +"I hope she will not get my old woman away to live with her," thought +John, with a sudden start. "I don't know what I may be driven to, if she +does. I shall have to turn out of my own house, or take the Golden Head +into it by way of protection. No, not that! I'll play the man. But," he +thought, continuing his cogitations, "Emily is too young and attractive +to live alone, and what so natural as that she should ask her old aunt +to come to her?" + +John was still deeply cogitating on this knotty point when the children +came back, and conducted him and Valentine to the place where Brandon +was at work, and Dorothea sitting near him on a tree-stump knitting. + +None of the party ever forgot that afternoon, but each remembered it as +an appeal to his own particular circumstances. Brandon was deep in the +contentment of a great wish fulfilled. The newly-perfected life was +fresh and sweet, and something of reserve in the character and manners +of his wife seemed to restrain him from using up the charm of it too +fast. His restless and passionate nature was at once satisfied and kept +in check by the freshness and moderation of hers. She received his +devotion very quietly, made no demonstrations, but grew to him, laid up +his confidences in her heart, and let him discover--though she never +said it--that all the rest of the world was becoming as nothing for his +sake. Accordingly it did not occur to him, excepting on Valentine's own +account, to consider how he might feel during this interview. He +noticed that he was a little sulky and perhaps rather out of +countenance; he did not wonder at these things; but being absolutely +secure of his wife's love, he never even said to himself how impossible +it was that her affection should revert to Valentine; but this was for +the simple reason that he had never thought about that matter at all. He +talked to Valentine on indifferent subjects, and felt that he should be +glad when he had got over the awkwardness he was then evidently +enduring, for they had been accustomed, far more than most brothers, to +live together on terms of familiar intimacy, and only one of them at +present was aware that this could never be again. + +Valentine also never forgot, but often saw that picture again with the +fresh fulness of the leaves for a background to the girlish figure; and +the fair face so innocent and candid and so obviously content. She was +seated opposite to him, with Brandon on the grass close to her. In +general they addressed each other merely by the Christian name, but just +before John rose to take leave, Dorothea dropped her ball. It rolled a +little way, and pointing it out to Brandon with her long wooden +knitting-pin, she said, in a soft quiet tone, "Love, will you pick it +up?" and Valentine, who had overheard the little speech, was +inexpressibly hurt, almost indignant. He could not possibly have told +why, but he hoped she did not say that often, and when Brandon gave it +into her hand again, and said something to her that Valentine could not +hear, he felt almost as if he had been unkindly used, as if his feelings +had been insulted, and he vowed that it should be a long time before he +came to see them again. + +"It won't do," he thought to himself. "I see this means a great deal +more than I ever thought it did. I thought Giles would be jealous, and I +should have to set things in a light that would satisfy him; but it is +I who am jealous, and he does not care what I feel at all. She is all I +could wish; but I don't know whether looking at her is most bitter or +most sweet." + +As for John, he had walked down to the wood as usual, in full possession +of his present self, and as he supposed of his future intentions, and +yet, sitting opposite to these married lovers for a quarter of an hour, +wrought a certain change in him that nothing ever effaced. It was an +alien feeling to him to be overcome by a yearning discontent. Something +never yet fed and satisfied made its presence known to him. It was not +that sense which comes to all, sooner or later, that human life cannot +give us what we expected of it, but rather a passionate waking to the +certainty that he never even for one day had possessed what it might +have given. He had never been endowed for one day with any deep love, +with its keen perceptions and high companionship. + +"Well, I suppose I didn't deserve it," he thought, half angrily, while +he tried to trample the feeling down and stifle it. But his keener +instincts soon rose up in him and let him know that he did deserve it. +It was very extraordinary that he had not won it--there were few men, +indeed, who deserved it half so well. + +"But it's too late now," he chose to say to himself, as he drove home. +"It's not in my line either to go philandering after any woman. Besides, +I hate red hair. The next _Dissolution_ I'll stand for the borough of +Wigfield. Seven children to bring up, and one of them almost as big as +myself--what a fool I am! What can I have been thinking of?" + +"What are you laughing at, papa?" said Barbara, who was sitting beside +him. + +"Not at you, my darling," he replied; "for you are something real." + +For the next few weeks neither he nor Valentine saw much of Dorothea: +excepting at three or four dinners, they scarcely met at all. After this +came the Harrow holidays. Johnny came home, and with him the inevitable +Crayshaw. The latter was only to stay a week, and that week should have +been spent with Brandon, but the boys had begged hard to be together, +having developed a peculiar friendship for one another which seemed to +have been founded on many fights, in consequence of which they had been +strictly forbidden to meet. + +This had taken place more than a year before, when Crayshaw, having been +invited by John to spend the holidays with his boy, the two had +quarrelled, and even fought, to such a degree that John at last in +despair had taken Johnnie over to his grandfather's house, with the +declaration that if he so much as spoke to Crayshaw again, or crossed +the wide brook that ran between the two houses, he would fine him +half-a-crown every time he did it. + +"Ith all that hateful map," said young hopeful sulkily, when he was +borne off to his banishment. + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," quoth his father. "I don't care +what it's about. You have no notion of hospitality. I won't have you +fight with your guest." + +Crayshaw was in very weak health, but full of mischief and fun. For a +few days he seemed happy enough, then he flagged, and on the fifth +morning he laid half-a-crown beside John's plate at breakfast. + +"What's this for?" asked John. + +"Because it is not fair that he should be fined, and not I." + +"Put it in the missionary box," said John, who knew very well that the +boys had been constructing a dam together all the previous day. + +"It was about their possessions that they quarrelled," said Gladys in +giving an account of the matter afterwards. "They made a plan that they +would go into partnership, and conquer all the rest of the world; but +when they looked at the great map up in Parliament, and Johnnie found +how much the most he had got, he said Cray must annex Japan, or he +would not join. Cray said it was against his principles. So they +quarrelled, and fought once or twice; but perhaps it was just as well, +for you know the rest of the world would rather not be conquered. Then, +when they were fined for playing together, they did every day. They made +a splendid dam over the brook, which was very low; but one night came a +storm, father's meadows were flooded, they could not get the dam undone, +and some sheep were drowned. So they went to Grand, and begged him to +tell father, and get them off. They said it was a strange thing they +were never to be together, and neither of them had got a penny left. So +Grand got them forgiven, and we went all over the meadows for two or +three days in canoes and punts." + +And now these two desirable inmates were to be together for a week. A +great deal can be done in a week, particularly by those who give their +minds to it because they know their time is short. That process called +turning the house out of windows took place when John was away. Aunt +Christie, who did not like boys, kept her distance, but Miss Crampton +being very much scandalized by the unusual noise, declared, on the +second morning of these holidays, that she should go up into Parliament, +and see what they were all about. Miss Crampton was not supposed ever to +go up into Parliament; it was a privileged place. + +"Will the old girl really come, do you think?" exclaimed Crayshaw. + +"She says she shall, as soon as she has done giving Janie her music +lesson," replied Barbara, who had rushed up the steep stairs to give +this message. + +"Mon peruke!" exclaimed Johnnie looking round, "you'd better look out, +then, or vous l'attrapperais." + +The walls were hung with pictures, maps, and caricatures; these last +were what had attracted Johnnie's eyes, and the girls began hastily to +cover them. + +"It's very unkind of her," exclaimed Barbara. "Father never exactly +said that we were to have our own playroom to ourselves, but we know, +and she knows, that he meant it." + +Then, after a good deal of whispering, giggling, and consulting among +the elder ones, the little boys were dismissed; and in the meantime Mr. +Nicholas Swan, who, standing on a ladder outside, was nailing the vines +(quite aware that the governess was going to have a reception which +might be called a warning never to come there any more), may or may not +have intended to make his work last as long as possible. At any rate, he +could with difficulty forbear from an occasional grin, while, with his +nails neatly arranged between his lips, he leisurely trained and pruned; +and when he was asked by the young people to bring them up some shavings +and a piece of wood, he went down to help in the mischief, whatever it +might be, with an alacrity ill suited to his years and gravity. + +"Now, I'll tell you what, young gentlemen," he remarked, when, +ascending, he showed his honest face again, thrust in a log of wood, and +exhibited an armful of shavings, "I'm agreeable to anything but +gunpowder, or that there spark as comes cantering out o' your engine +with a crack. No, Miss Gladys, ex-cuse me, I don't give up these here +shavings till I know it's all right." + +"Well, well, it _ith_ all right," exclaimed Johnnie, "we're not going to +do any harm! O Cray, he'th brought up a log ath big ath a fiddle. Quelle +alouette!" + +"How lucky it is that she has never seen Cray!" exclaimed Barbara. +"Johnnie, do be calm; how are we to do it, if you laugh so? Now then, +you are to be attending to the electrifying machine." + +"Swanny," asked Crayshaw, "have you got a pipe in your pocket? I want +one to lie on my desk." + +"Well, now, to think o' your asking me such a question, just as if I was +ever _known_ to take so much as a whiff in working hours--no, not in +the tool-house, nor nowhere." + +"But just feel. Come, you might." + +"Well, now, this here is remarkable," exclaimed Swan, with a start as if +of great surprise, when, after feeling in several pockets, a pipe +appeared from the last one. + +"Don't knock the ashes out." + +"She's coming," said Swan, furtively glancing down, and then pretending +to nail with great diligence. "And, my word, if here isn't Miss Christie +with her!" + +A great scuffle now ensued to get things ready. Barbara darted down +stairs, and what she may have said to Aunt Christie while Swan received +some final instructions above, is of less consequence than what Miss +Crampton may have felt when she found herself at the top of the stairs +in the long room, with its brown high-pitched roof--a room full of the +strangest furniture, warm with the sun of August, and sweet with the +scent of the creepers. + +Gladys and Johnnie were busy at the electrifying machine, and with a +rustling and crackling noise the "spunky little flashes," as Swan called +them, kept leaping from one leaden knob to another. + +Miss Crampton saw a youth sitting on a low chair, with his legs on +rather a higher one; the floor under him was strewed with shavings, +which looked, Swan thought, "as natural as life," meaning that they +looked just as if he had made them by his own proper whittling. + +The youth in question was using a large pruning knife on a log that he +held rather awkwardly on his knee. He had a soft hat, which had been +disposed over one eye. Miss Crampton gave the sparks as wide a berth as +she could, and as she advanced, "Well, sir," Swan was saying in +obedience to his instructions, "if you've been brought up a republican, +I spose you can't help it. But whatever _your_ notions may be, Old +Master is staunch. He's all for Church and Queen and he hates +republican institootions like poison. Which is likewise my own feelings +to a T." + +No one had taken any notice of Miss Crampton, and she stopped amazed. + +"Wall," answered the youth, diligently whittling, "I think small +potatoes of ye-our lo-cation myself--but ye-our monarchical government, +I guess, hez not yet corrupted the he-eart of the Grand. He handed onto +me and onto his hair a tip which"--here he put his hand in his waistcoat +pocket, and fondly regarded two or three coins; then feigning to become +aware of Miss Crampton's presence, "Augustus John, my yound friend," he +continued, "ef yeow feel like it, I guess yeou'd better set a chair for +the school marm--for it is the school marm, I calculate?" + +Here Miss Christie, radiant with joy and malice, could not conceal her +delight, but patted him on the shoulder, and then hastily retreated into +the background, lest she should spoil the sport; while as Johnnie, +having small command of countenance, did not dare to turn from the +window out of which he was pretending to look, Crayshaw rose himself, +shook hands with Miss Crampton, and setting a chair for her, began to +whittle again. + +"Wall," he then said, "and heow do yeou git along with ye-our teaching, +marm? Squire thinks a heap of ye-our teaching, as I he-ear, specially +ye-our teaching of the eye-talian tongue." + +"Did I understand you to be arguing with the gardener when I came in, +respecting the principles and opinions of this family?" inquired Miss +Crampton, who had now somewhat recovered from her surprise, and was +equal to the resenting of indignities. + +"Wall, mebby I was, but it's a matter of science that we're mainly +concerned with, I guess, this morning--science, electricity. We're +gitting on first-rate--those rods on the stairs----" + +"Yes?" exclaimed Miss Crampton. + +"We air of a scientific turn, we air--Augustus John and I--fixing wires +to every one of them. They air steep, those steps," he continued +pensively. + +Here Miss Crampton's colour increased visibly. + +"And when the machine is che-arged, we shall electrify them. So that +when yeou dew but touch one rod, it'll make yeou jump as high as the +next step, without any voluntary effort. Yeou'll find that an +improvement." + +Here Swan ducked down, and laughed below at his ease. + +"We air very scientific in my country." + +"Indeed!" + +"Ever been to Amurica?" + +"Certainly not," answered Miss Crampton with vigour, "nor have I the +slightest intention of ever doing so. Pray, are you allowed, in +consideration of your nationality, to whittle in Harrow School?" + +This was said by way of a reproof for the state of the floor. + +"Wall," began Crayshaw, to cover the almost audible titters of the +girls; but, distracted by this from the matter in hand, he coughed, went +on whittling, and held his peace. + +"I have often told Johnnie," said Miss Crampton with great dignity, at +the same time darting a severe glance at Johnnie's back, "that the +delight he takes in talking the Devonshire dialect is likely to be very +injurious to his English, and he will have it that this country accent +is not permanently catching. It may be hoped," she continued, looking +round, "that other accents are not catching either." + +Crayshaw, choosing to take this hint as a compliment, smiled sweetly. "I +guess I'm speaking better than usual," he observed, "for my brother and +his folks air newly come from the Ste-ates, and I've been with them. +But," he continued, a sudden gleam of joy lighting up his eyes as +something occurred to him that he thought suitable to "top up" with, +"all the Mortimers talk with such a peowerful English ac-_cent_, that +when I come de-own to this _lo_-cation, my own seems to melt off my +tongue. Neow, yeou'll skasely believe it," he continued, "but it's +tre-u, that ef yeou were tew hea-ar me talk at the end of a week, yeou'd +he-ardly realise that I was an Amurican at all." + +"Cray, how can ye?" exclaimed Aunt Christie, "and so wan as ye look this +morning too." + +"Seen my brother?" inquired Crayshaw meekly. + +"No, I have not," said Miss Crampton bridling. + +"He's merried. We settle airly in my country; it's one of our +institootions." Another gleam of joy and impudence shot across the +pallid face. "I'm thinking of settling shortly myself." + +Then, as Aunt Christie was observed to be struggling with a laugh that, +however long repressed, was sure to break forth at last, Barbara led her +to the top of the stairs, and loudly entreated her to mind she didn't +stumble, and to mind she did not touch the stair-rods, for the machine, +she observed, was just ready. + +"The jarth are all charged now, Cray," said Johnnie, coming forward at +last. "Mith Crampton, would you like to have the firtht turn of going +down with them?" + +"No, thank you," said Miss Crampton almost suavely, and rising with +something very like alacrity. Then, remembering that she had not even +mentioned what she came for, "I wish to observe," she said, "that I much +disapprove of the noise I hear up in Parliament. I desire that it may +not occur again. If it does, I shall detain the girls in the schoolroom. +I am very much disturbed by it." + +"You don't say so!" exclaimed Crayshaw with an air of indolent surprise; +and Miss Crampton thereupon retreated down-stairs, taking great care not +to touch any metallic substance. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +MR. MORTIMER GOES THROUGH THE TURNPIKE. + + + "I hear thee speak of the happy land." + +Swan looked down as Miss Crampton and Miss Christie emerged into the +garden. + +"Most impertinent of Swan," he heard the former say, to be arguing thus +about political affairs in the presence of the children. And what Mr. +Mortimer can be thinking of, inviting young Crayshaw to stay so much +with them, I cannot imagine. We shall be having them turn republican +next." + +"Turn republican!" repeated Miss Christie with infinite scorn; "there's +about as much chance of that as of his ever seeing his native country +again, poor laddie; which is just no chance at all." + +Crayshaw at this moment inquired of Swan, who had mounted his ladder +step by step as Miss Crampton went on, "Is the old girl gone in? And +what was she talking of?" + +"Well, sir, something about republican institootions." + +"Ah! and so you hate them like poison?" + +"Yes, in a manner of speaking I do. But I've been a-thinking," continued +Swan, taking the nails out of his lips and leaning in at the window, +"I've been a-thinking as it ain't noways fair, if all men is ekal--which +you're allers upholding--that you should say Swan, and I should say +Mister Crayshaw." + +"No, it isn't," exclaimed Crayshaw, laughing; "let's have it the other +way. You shall say Crayshaw to me, and I'll say Mr. Swan to you, sir." + +"Well, now, you allers contrive to get the better of me, you and Mr. +Johnnie, you're so sharp! But, anyhow, I could earn my own living before +I was your age, and neither of you can. Then, there's hardly a year as I +don't gain a prize." + +"I'm like a good clock," said Crayshaw, "I neither gain nor lose. I can +strike, too. But how did you find out, sir, that I never gained any +prizes?" + +"Don't you, sir?" + +"Never, sir--I never gained one in my life, sir. But I say, I wish you'd +take these shavings down again." + +"No, I won't," answered Swan, "if I'm to be 'sirred' any more, and the +young ladies made to laugh at me." + +"Let Swanny alone, Cray," said Gladys. "Be as conservative as you like, +Swan. Why shouldn't you? It's the only right thing." + +"Nothing can be very far wrong as Old Master thinks," answered Swan. "He +never interfered with my ways of doing my work either, no more than Mr. +John does, and that's a thing I vally; and he never but once wanted me +to do what I grudged doing." + +"When was that?" asked Mr. Augustus John. + +"Why, when he made me give up that there burial club," answered Swan. +"He said it was noways a moral institootion; and so I shouldn't have +even a decent burying to look forward to for me and my wife (my poor +daughters being widows, and a great expense to me), if he hadn't said +he'd bury us himself if I'd give it up, and bury us respectably too, it +stands to reason. Mr. John heard him." + +"Then, thath the thame thing ath if he'd thaid it himthelf," observed +Johnnie, answering the old man's thought about a much older man. + +"Did I say it wasn't, sir? No, if ever there was a gentleman--it's not +a bit of use argufying that all men are ekal. I'm not ekal to either of +them two." + +"In what respect?" asked Crayshaw. + +"In what respect? Well, sir, this is how it is. I wouldn't do anything +mean nor dishonest; but as for them two, they couldn't. I never had the +education neither to be a gentleman, nor wished to. Not that I talk as +these here folks do down here--I'd scorn it. I'm a Sunbury man myself, +and come from the valley of the Thames, and talk plain English. But one +of my boys, Joey," continued Swan, "talking of wishes, he wished he'd +had better teaching. He's been very uppish for some time (all his own +fault he hadn't been more edicated); told his mother and me, afore he +sailed for the West Indies, as he'd been trying hard for some time to +turn gentleman. 'I shall give myself all the airs that ever I can,' he +says, 'when once I get out there.' 'Why, you young ass!' says I, 'for +it's agen my religion to call you a fool (let alone your mother wouldn't +like it), arn't you awear that giving himself airs is exactly what no +real gentleman ever does?' 'A good lot of things,' says he, 'father, +goes to the making of a gentleman.' 'Ay, Joey,' says I, 'but ain't a +gentleman a man with good manners? Now a good-manner'd man is allers +saying by his ways and looks to them that air beneath him, "You're as +good as I am!" and a bad-manner'd man is allers saying by his ways and +looks to them that air above him, "I'm as good as you air!" There's a +good many folks,' I says (not knowing I should repeat it to you this +day, Mr. Crayshaw), 'as will have it, that because we shall all ekally +have to be judged in the next world, we must be all ekal in this. In +some things I uphold we air, and in others I say we're not. Now your +real gentleman thinks most of them things that make men ekal, and +t'other chap thinks most of what makes them unekal.'" + +"Hear, hear!" said Johnnie. "And what did Joey thay to that, Thwan?" + +"He didn't say much," answered Swan in his most pragmatical manner. "He +knows well enough that when I'm argufying with my own children (as I've +had the expense of bringing up), I expect to have the last word, and I +have it. It's dinner-time, Mr. Johnnie; will you pass me out my pipe? I +don't say but what I may take a whiff while the dinner's dishing up." + +"It was very useful, Swan," said Gladys. "No doubt it made Miss Crampton +think that Cray smokes." + +"My word!" exclaimed Swan, "it was as good as a play to see him give +himself those meek airs, and look so respectful." + +He went down, and the two little boys came up. They had been turned out +of Parliament, and had spent the time of their exile in running to the +town, and laying out some of their money in the purchase of a present +for Crayshaw; they were subject to humble fits of enthusiasm for +Crayshaw and Johnnie. They came in, and handed him a "Robinson Crusoe" +with pictures in it. + +Crayshaw accepted it graciously. + +"You must write my name in it," he observed, with exceeding mildness, +"and mind you write it with a soft G." + +"Yes, of course," said little Hugh, taking in, but hesitating how to +obey. + +"A hard G is quite wrong, and very indigestible too," he continued, yet +more mildly; "though people will persist that it's a capital letter." + +The young people then began to congratulate themselves on their success +as regarded Miss Crampton. + +"She scarcely stayed five minutes, and she was so afraid of the machine, +and so shocked at the whittling and the talk, and Cray's whole +appearance, that she will not come near us while he is here. After that, +the stair-rods will protect us." + +"No," said Crayshaw, "but it's no stimulus to my genius to have to talk +Yankee to such ignorant people. I might mix up North, South, and West +as I liked, and you would be none the wiser. However, if she chances to +hear me speak a week hence, she'll believe that my accent has entirely +peeled off. I thought I'd better provide against that probability. It +was an invention worthy of a poet, which I am." + +"Que les poètes thoient pendus," said Augustus John, with vigour and +sincerity. "Ekthepting Homer and Tennython," he added, as if willing to +be just to all men. + +"What for? they've done nothing to you." + +"Haven't they! But for them I need not watht my life in making Latin +vertheth. The fighting, though, in Homer and Tennython I like." + +In the meantime the four younger children were whispering together over +a large paper parcel, that crackled a good deal. + +"Which do you think is the grandest word?" said Bertram. + +"I _fallacious_, Janie." + +"But you said you would put _umbrageous_," observed Hugh, in a +discontented tone. + +"No, those words don't mean _it_," answered Janie. "I like _ambrosial_ +best. Put 'For our dear ambrosial Johnnie.'" + +The parcel contained as many squibs and crackers as the seller thereof +would trust with his young customers; also one rocket. + +Johnnie's little brothers and sisters having written these words, rose +from the floor on which they had been seated, and with blushes and +modest pride presented the parcel. + +"For a birthday present," they said, "and, Johnnie, you're to let off +every one of them your own self; and lots more are coming from the +shop." + +"My wig!" exclaimed Johnnie, feigning intense surprise, though he had +heard every word of the conference. "Let them all off mythelf, did you +thay? Well, I do call that a motht egregiouth and tender lark." + +These epithets appeared to give rarity and splendour to his thanks. +Janie pondered over them a little, but when Crayshaw added, "Quite +parenthetical," she gave it up. That was a word she could not hope to +understand. When a difficulty is once confessed to be unconquerable, the +mind can repose before it as before difficulties overcome, so says +Whately. "If it had only been as hard a word as _chemical_" thought +Janie, "I would have looked it out in the spelling-book; but this word +is so very hard that perhaps nobody knows it but Cray." + +For the remainder of the week, though many revolutionary speeches were +made in Parliament against the constituted schoolroom authorities, there +was, on the whole, better behaviour and less noise. + +After that, John took his three elder children on the Continent, keeping +the boy with him till Harrow School opened again, and remaining behind +with the girls till the first week in November. During this time he by +no means troubled himself about the domestic happiness that he felt he +had missed, though he looked forward with fresh interest to the time +when his intelligent little daughters would be companions for him, and +began, half unconsciously, to idealise the character of his late wife, +as if her death had cost him a true companion--as if, in fact, it had +not made him much nobler and far happier. + +He was not sorry, when he returned home, to find Valentine eager to get +away for a little while, for it had been agreed that the old man should +not be left by both of them. Valentine was improved; his comfortable and +independent position in his uncle's house, where his presence was so +evidently regarded as an advantage, had made him more satisfied with +himself; and absence from Dorothea had enabled him to take an interest +in other women. + +He went away in high spirits and capital health, and John subsided into +his usual habits, his children continuing to grow about him. He was +still a head taller than his eldest son, but this did not promise to be +long the case. And his eldest girls were so clever, and so forward with +their education, that he was increasingly anxious to propitiate Miss +Crampton. It was very difficult to hold the balance even; he scarcely +knew how to keep her at a distance, and yet to mark his sense of her +value. + +"I am going to see the Brandons to-morrow," he remarked to Miss Christie +one day, just before the Christmas holidays. + +"Then I wish ye would take little Nancy with ye," observed the good +lady, "for Dorothea was here yesterday. Emily is come to stay with them, +and she drove her over. Emily wished to see the child, and when she +found her gone out for her walk she was disappointed." + +"What did she want with her?" asked John. + +"Well, I should have thought it might occur to ye that the sweet lamb +had perhaps some sacred reason for feeling attracted towards the +smallest creatures she could conveniently get at." + +"Let the nestling bird be dressed up, then," said John. "I will drive +her over with me to lunch this morning. Poor Emily! she will feel seeing +the child." + +"Not at all. She has been here twice to see the two little ones. At +first she would only watch them over the blinds, and drop a few tears; +but soon she felt the comfort of them, and when she had got a kiss or +two, she went away more contented." + +Accordingly John drove his smallest daughter over to Wigfield House, +setting her down rosy and smiling from her wraps, and sending her to the +ladies, while he went up to Brandon's peculiar domain to talk over some +business with him. + +They went down into the morning-room together, and Emily rose to meet +John. It was the first time he had seen her in her mourning-dress and +with the cap that did not seem at all to belong to her. + +Emily was a graceful young woman. Her face, of a fine oval shape, was +devoid of ruddy hues; yet it was more white than pale; the clear dark +grey eyes shining with health, and the mouth being red and beautiful. +The hair was dark, abundant, and devoid of gloss, and she had the +advantage of a graceful and cordial manner, and a very charming smile. + +There were tears on her eyelashes when she spoke to John, and he knew +that his little cherub of a child must have caused them. She presently +went back to her place, taking little Anastasia on her knee; while +Dorothea, sitting on the sofa close to them, and facing the child, +occupied and pleased herself with the little creature, and encouraged +her to talk. + +Of English children this was a lovely specimen, and surely there are +none lovelier in the world. Dorothea listened to her pretty tongue, and +mused over her with a silent rapture. Her hair fell about her face like +flakes of floss-silk, loose, and yellow as Indian corn; and her rosy +cheeks were deeply dimpled. She was the only one of the Mortimers who +was small for her years. She liked being nursed and petted, and while +Dorothea smoothed out the fingers of her tiny gloves, the little fat +hands, so soft and warm, occupied themselves with the contents of her +work-box. + +She was relating how Grand had invited them all to spend the day. "Papa +brought the message, and they all wanted to go; and so--" she was +saying, when John caught the sound of her little voice--"and so papa +said, 'What! not one of you going to stay with your poor old +father?'"--these words, evidently authentic, she repeated with the +deepest pathos--"and so," she went on, "I said, 'I will.'" Then, after +a pause for reflection, "That was kind of me, wasn't it?" + +A few caresses followed. + +Then catching sight of Emily's brooch, in which was a portrait of her +child, little Nancy put the wide tulle cap-strings aside, and looked at +it earnestly. + +"I know who that is," she said, after bestowing a kiss on the baby's +face. + +"Do you, my sweet? who is it, then?" + +"It's Freddy; he's gone to the happy land. It's full of little boys and +girls. Grand's going soon," she added, with great cheerfulness. "Did you +know? Grand says he hopes he shall go soon." + +"How did Emily look?" asked Miss Christie, when John came home. + +"Better than usual, I think," said John carelessly. "There's no +bitterness in her sorrow, poor thing! She laughed several times at +Nancy's childish talk." + +"She looks a great deal too young and attractive to live alone," said +Miss Christie pointedly. + +"Well," answered John, "she need not do that long. There are several +fellows about here, who, unless they are greater fools than I take them +for, will find her, as a well-endowed young widow, quite as attractive +as they did when she was an almost portionless girl." + +"But in the meantime?" said Miss Christie. + +"If you are going to say anything that I shall hate to hear," answered +John, half-laughing, "don't keep me lingering long. If you mean to leave +me, say so at once, and put me out of my misery." + +"Well, well," said Miss Christie, looking at him with some pleasure, and +more admiration, "I've been torn in pieces for several weeks past, +thinking it over. Never shall I have my own way again in any man's +house, or woman's either, as I have had it here. And the use of the +carriage and the top of the pew," she continued, speaking; to herself as +much as to him; "and the keys; and I always _knew_ I was welcome, which +is more than being told so. And I thank ye, John Mortimer, for it all, I +do indeed; but if my niece's daughter is wanting me, what can I do but +go to her?" + +"It was very base of Emily not to say a word about it," said John, +smiling with as much grimness as utter want of practice, together with +the natural cast of his countenance, would admit of. + +Miss Christie looked up, and saw with secret joy the face she admired +above all others coloured with a sudden flush of most unfeigned +vexation. John gave the footstool before him a little shove of +impatience, and it rolled over quite unknown to him, and lighted on Miss +Christie's corns. + +She scarcely felt the pain. It was sweet to be of so much importance. +Two people contending for one lonely, homely old woman. + +"Say the word," she presently said, "and I won't leave ye." + +"No," answered John, "you ought to go to Emily. I had better say instead +that I am very sensible of the kindness you have done me in staying so +long." + +"But ye won't be driven to do anything rash?" she answered, observing +that he was still a little chafed, and willing to pass the matter off +lightly. + +"Such as taking to myself the lady up-stairs!" exclaimed John. "No, but +I must part with her; if one of you goes, the other must." + +This was absolutely the first time the matter had even been hinted at +between them, and yet Miss Christie's whole conduct was arranged with +reference to it, and John always fully counted on her protective +presence. + +"Ay, but if I might give myself the liberty of a very old friend," she +answered, straightway taking the ell because he had given her an inch, +"there is something I would like to say to ye." + +"What would you like to say?" + +"Well, I would like to say that if a man is so more than commonly a fine +man, that it's just a pleasure to set one's eyes on him, and if he's +well endowed with this world's gear, it's a strange thing if there is no +excellent, desirable, and altogether sweet young woman ready, and even +sighing, for him." + +"Humph!" said John. + +"I don't say there is," proceeded Miss Christie; "far be it from me." + +"I hate red hair," answered the attractive widower. + +"It's just like a golden oriole. It isn't red at all," replied Miss +Christie dogmatically. + +"_I_ call it red," said John Mortimer. + +"The painters consider it the finest colour possible," continued the +absent lady's champion. + +"Then let them paint her," said John; "but--I shall not marry her; +besides," he chose to say, "I know if I asked her she would not have me: +therefore, as I don't mean to ask her, I shall not be such an unmannerly +dog as to discuss her, further than to say that I do not wish to marry a +woman who takes such a deep and sincere interest in herself." + +"Why, don't we all do that? I am sure _I_ do." + +"You naturally feel that you are the most important and interesting of +all God's creatures _to yourself_. You do not therefore think that you +must be so to _me_. Our little lives, my dear lady, should not turn +round upon themselves, and as it were make a centre of their own axis. +The better lives revolve round some external centre; everything depends +on that centre, and how much or how many we carry round with us besides +ourselves. Now, my father's centre is and always has been Almighty +God--our Father and his. His soul is as it were drawn to God and lost, +as a centre to itself in that great central soul. He looks at +everything--I speak it reverently--from God's high point of view." + +"Ay, but she's a good woman," said Miss Christie, trying to adopt his +religious tone, and as usual not knowing how. "Always going about among +the poor. I don't suppose," she continued with enthusiasm--"I don't +suppose there's a single thing they can do in their houses that she +doesn't interfere with." Then observing his amusement, "Ye don't know +what's good for ye," she added, half laughing, but a little afraid she +was going too far. + +"If ever I am so driven wild by the governesses that I put my neck, as a +heart-broken father, under the yoke, in order to get somebody into the +house who can govern as you have done," said John, "it will be entirely +your doing, your fault for leaving me." + +"Well, well," said Miss Christie, laughing, "I must abide ye're present +reproaches, but I feel that I need dread no future ones, for if ye +should go and do it, ye'll be too much a gentleman to say anything to me +afterwards." + +"You are quite mistaken," exclaimed John, laughing, "that one +consolation I propose to reserve to myself, or if I should not think it +right to speak, mark my words, the more cheerful I look the more sure +you may be that I am a miserable man." + +Some days after this the stately Miss Crampton departed for her +Christmas holidays, a letter following her, containing a dismissal +(worded with studied politeness) and a cheque for such an amount of +money as went far to console her. + +"Mr. Mortimer was about to send the little boys to school, and meant +also to make other changes in his household. Mr. Mortimer need hardly +add, that should Miss Crampton think of taking another situation, he +should do himself the pleasure to speak as highly of her qualifications +as she could desire." + +Aunt Christie gone, Miss Crampton gone also! What a happy state of +things for the young Mortimers! If Crayshaw had been with them, there is +no saying what they might have done; but Johnnie, by his father's +orders, had brought a youth of seventeen to spend three weeks with him, +and the young fellow turned out to be such a dandy, and so much better +pleased to be with the girls than with Johnnie scouring the country and +skating, that John for the first time began to perceive the coming on +of a fresh source of trouble in his house. Gladys and Barbara were +nearly fourteen years old, but looked older; they were tall, slender +girls, black-haired and grey-eyed, as their mother had been, very +simple, full of energy, and in mind and disposition their father's own +daughters. Johnnie groaned over his unpromising companion, Edward +Conyngham by name; but he was the son of an old friend, and John did +what he could to make the boys companionable, while the girls, though +they laughed at young Conyngham, were on the whole more amused with his +compliments than their father liked. But it was not till one day, going +up into Parliament, and finding some verses pinned on a curtain, that he +began to feel what it was to have no lady to superintend his daughters. + +"What are they?" Gladys said. "Why, papa, Cray sent them; they are +supposed to have been written by Conyngham." + +"What does he know about Conyngham?" + +"Oh, I told him when I last wrote." + +"When you last wrote," repeated John, in a cogitative tone. + +"Yes; I write about once a fortnight, of course, when Barbara writes to +Johnnie." + +"Did Miss Crampton superintend the letters?" was John's next inquiry. + +"Oh no, father, we always wrote them up here." + +"I wonder whether Janie would have allowed this," thought John. "I +suppose as they are so young it cannot signify." + +"Cray sent them because we told him how Conyngham walked after Gladys +wherever she went. That boy is such a goose, father; you never heard +such stuff as he talks when you are away." + +John was silent. + +"Johnnie and Cray are disgusted with his rubbish," continued Barbara, +"pretending to make love and all that." + +"Yes," said John; "it is very ridiculous. Boys like Conyngham and +Crayshaw ought to know better." Nothing, he felt, could be so likely to +make the schoolroom distasteful to his daughters as this early +admiration. Still he was consoled by the view they took of it. + +"Cray does know better, of course," said Gladys carelessly. + +"Still, he was extremely angry with Conyngham, for being so fond of +Gladys," remarked Barbara; "because you know she is _his_ friend. He +would never hear about his puppy, that old Patience Smith takes care of +for sixpence a week, or his rabbits that we have here, or his hawk that +lives at Wigfield, unless Gladys wrote; Mr. Brandon never writes to +him." + +"Now shall I put a stop to this, or shall I let it be?" thought John; +and he proceeded to read Crayshaw's effusion. + + TO G.M. IN HER BRONZE BOOTS + + As in the novel skippers say, + "Shiver my timbers!" and "Belay!" + While a few dukes so handy there + Respectfully make love or swear; + + As in the poem some great ass + For ever pipes to his dear lass; + And as in life tea crowns the cup + And muffins sop much butter up; + + So, naturally, while I walk + With you, I feel a swell--and stalk-- + Consecutively muttering "Oh, + I'm quite a man, I feel I grow." + + But loudliest thumps this heart to-day, + While in the mud you pick your way, + (You fawn, you flower, you star, you gem,) + In your new boots with heels to them. + + Your Eldest Slave. + +"I don't consider these verses a bit more _consecutive_ than Conyngham's +talk," said John, laughing. + +"Well, father, then he shouldn't say such things! He said Mr. Brandon +walked with an infallible stride, and that you were the most consecutive +of any one he had ever met with." + +"But, my dear little girl, Crayshaw would not have known that unless +you had told him; do you think that was the right thing to do by a +guest?" + +Gladys blushed. "But, father," said Barbara, "I suppose Cray may come +now; Conyngham goes to-morrow. Cray never feels so well as when he is +here." + +"I had no intention of inviting him this Christmas," answered John. + +"Well," said Gladys, "it doesn't make much difference; he and Johnnie +can be together just the same nearly all day, because his brother and +Mrs. Crayshaw are going to stay with the Brandons, and Cray is to come +too." + +John felt as if the fates were against him. + +"And his brother was so horribly vexed when he found that he hardly got +on at school at all." + +"That's enough to vex any man. Cray should spend less time in writing +these verses of his." + +"Yes, he wrote us word that his brother said so, and was extremely cross +and unpleasant, when he replied that this was genius, and must not be +repressed." + +John, after this, rode into the town, and as he stopped his horse to pay +the turnpike, he was observed by the turnpike-keeper's wife to be +looking gloomy and abstracted; indeed, the gate was no sooner shut +behind him than he sighed, and said with a certain bitterness, "I +shouldn't wonder if, in two or three years time, I am driven to put my +neck under the yoke after all." + +"No, we can't come," said little Hugh, when a few days after this Emily +and Dorothea drove over and invited the children to spend the day, "we +couldn't come on any account, because something very grand is going to +happen." + +"Did you know," asked Anastasia, "that Johnnie had got into the +_shell_?" + +"No, my sweet," said Emily, consoling her empty arms for their loss, and +appeasing her heart with a kiss. + +"And father always said that some day he should come home to early +dinner," continued Hugh, "and show the great magic lantern up in +Parliament. Then Swan's grandchildren and the coachman's little girls +are coming; and every one is to have a present. It will be such fun." + +"The shell," observed Bertram, "means a sort of a class between the +other classes. Father's so glad Johnnie has got into the shell." + +"She is glad too," said Anastasia. "You're glad, Mrs. Nemily." + +"Yes, I am glad," answered Emily, a tear that had gathered under her +dark eyelashes falling, and making her eyes look brighter, and her smile +more sweet. + +Emily was not of a temperament that is ever depressed. She had her times +of sorrow and tears; but she could often smile, and still oftener laugh. + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE RIVER. + + + "Now there was a great calm at that time in the river; wherefore Mr. + Standfast, when he was about half way in, he stood awhile, and + talked to his companions that had waited upon him thither; and he + said,...'I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith; but now I go + where I shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose company + I delight myself. I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and + wherever I have seen the print of his shoe in the earth, there have + I coveted to set my foot too.'"--_Pilgrim's Progress._ + +And now the Christmas holiday being more than half over, Mr. Augustus +Mortimer desired that his grandson might come and spend a few days with +him, for Valentine had told him how enchanted John was with the boy's +progress, but that he was mortified almost past bearing by his lisp. +Grand therefore resolved that something should be done; and Crayshaw +having now arrived, and spending the greater part of every day with his +allies the young Mortimers, was easily included in the invitation. If +anybody wants a school-boy, he is generally most welcome to him. Grand +sent a flattering message to the effect that he should be much +disappointed if Cray did not appear that day at his dinner table. Cray +accordingly did appear, and after dinner the old man began to put before +his grandson the advantage it would be to him if he could cure himself, +of his lisp. + +"I never lithp, Grand," answered the boy, "when I talk thlowly, and--No, +I mean when I talk s-lowly and take pains." + +"Then why don't you always talk slowly and take pains, to please your +father, to please me, and to improve yourself?" + +Johnnie groaned. + +"This is very little more than an idle childish habit," continued Grand. + +"We used to think it would do him good to have his tongue slit," said +Crayshaw, "but there's no need. When I torment him and chaff him, he +never does it." + +"I hope there _is_ no need," said Grand, a little uncertain whether this +remedy was proposed in joke or earnest. "Valentine has been reminding me +that he used to lisp horribly when a child, but he entirely cured +himself before he was your age." + +Johnnie, in school-boy fashion, made a face at Valentine when the old +man was not looking. It expressed good-humoured defiance and derision, +but the only effect it produced was on himself, for it disturbed for the +moment the great likeness to his grandfather that grew on him every day. +John had clear features, thick light hair, and deep blue eyes. His son +was dark, with bushy eyebrows, large stern features, and a high narrow +head, like old Grand. + +It was quite dark, and the depth of winter, but the thermometer was many +degrees above freezing-point, and a warm south wind was blowing. Grand +rose and rang the bell. "Are the stable lanterns lighted?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then you two boys come with me." + +The boys, wondering and nothing loth, followed to the stable, and the +brown eyes of two large ponies looked mildly into theirs. + +"Trot them out," said Grand to the groom, "and let the young gentlemen +have a good look at them." + +Not a word did either of the boys say. An event of huge importance +appeared to loom in the horizon of each: he cogitated over its probable +conditions. + +"I got a saddle for each of them," said Grand. "Valentine chose them, +Johnnie. There now, we had better come in again." And when they were +seated in the dining-room as before, and there was still silence, he +went on, "You two, as I understand, are both in the same house at +Harrow?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And it is agreed that Johnnie could cure himself of his lisp if he +chose, and if you would continually remind him of it?" + +"Oh yes, certainly it is." + +"Very well, if the thing is managed by next Easter, I'll give each of +you one of those ponies; and," continued Grand cunningly, "you may have +the use of them during the remainder of these holidays, provided you +both promise, upon your honour, to begin the cure directly. If Johnnie +has not left off lisping at Easter, I shall have the ponies sold." + +"I'll lead him such a life that he shall wish he'd never been born; I +will indeed," exclaimed Crayshaw fervently. + +"Well," said Johnnie, "never wath a better time. _Allez le_, or, in +other wordth, go it." + +"And every two or three days you shall bring him to me," continued +Grand, "that I may hear him read and speak." + +The next morning, before John went into the town, he was greeted by the +two boys on their ponies, and came out to admire and hear the +conditions. + +"We mayn't have them at school," said Johnnie, bringing out the last +word with laudable distinctness, "but Grand will let them live in +hith--in his--stables." + +John was very well contented to let the experiment alone; and a few days +after this, his younger children, going over with a message to Johnnie, +reported progress to him in the evening as he sat at dinner. + +"Johnnie and Cray were gone into the town on their grand new ponies, +almost as big as horses; they came galloping home while we were there," +said Janie. + +"And, father, they are going to show up their exercises, or something +that they've done, to Grand tomorrow; you'll hear them," observed Hugh. + +"But poor Cray was so ill on Saturday," said the little girl, "that he +couldn't do nothing but lie in bed and write his poetry." + +"But they got on very well," observed Bertram philosophically. "They had +up the stable-boy with a great squirt; he had to keep staring at Cray +while Johnnie read aloud, and every time Cray winked he was to squirt +Johnnie. Cray didn't have any dinner or any tea, and his face was so +red." + +"Poor fellow!" + +"Yes," said the youngest boy, "and he wrote some verses about Johnnie, +and said they were for him to read aloud to grandfather. But what do you +think? Johnnie said he wouldn't! That doesn't sound very kind, does it?" + +Johnnie's resolution, however, was not particularly remarkable; the +verses, compounded during an attack of asthma, running as follows:-- + + AUGUSTUS JOHN CONFESSES TO LOSS OF APPETITE. + + I cannot eat rice pudding now, + Jam roll, boiled beef, and such; + From Stilton cheese this heart I vow + Turns coldly as from Dutch. + + For crab, a shell-fish erst loved well, + I do not care at all, + Though I myself am in the shell + And fellow-feelings call. + + I mourn not over tasks unsaid-- + This child is not a flat-- + My purse is empty as my head, + But no--it isn't that; + + I cannot eat. And why? To shrink + From truth is like a sinner, + I'll speak or burst; it is, I think, + That I've just had my dinner. + +Crayshaw was very zealous in the discharge of his promise; the ponies +took a great deal of exercise; and old Grand, before the boys were +dismissed to school, saw very decided and satisfactory progress on the +part of his grandson, while the ponies were committed to his charge with +a fervour that was almost pathetic. It was hard to part from them; but +men are tyrannical; they will not permit boys to have horses at a public +school; the boys therefore returned to their work, and the ponies were +relieved from theirs, and entered on a course of life which is commonly +called eating their heads off. + +John in the meanwhile tried in vain to supply the loss of the stately +and erudite Miss Crampton. He wanted two ladies, and wished that neither +should be young. One must be able to teach his children and keep them in +order; the other must superintend the expenditure and see to the +comforts of his whole household, order his children's dress, and look +after their health. + +Either he was not fortunate in his applicants, or he was difficult to +please, for he had not suited himself with either lady when a new source +of occupation and anxiety sprung up, and everything else was set aside +on account of it; for all on a sudden it was perceived one afternoon +that Mr. Augustus Mortimer was not at all well. + +It was after bank hours, but he was dozing in his private sitting-room +at the bank, and his young nephew, Mr. Mortimer, was watching him. + +Valentine had caused his card to be printed "Mr. Mortimer:" he did not +intend because he was landless, and but for his uncle's bounty almost +penniless, to forego the little portion of dignity which belonged to +him. + +The carriage stood at the door, and the horses now and then stamped in +the lightly-falling snow, and were sometimes driven a little way down +the street and back again to warm them. + +At his usual time John had gone home, and then his father, while waiting +for the carriage, had dropped asleep. + +Though Valentine had wakened him more than once, and told him the men +and horses were waiting, he had not shown any willingness to move. + +"There's plenty of time; I must have this sleep out first," he said. + +Then, when for the third time Valentine woke him, he roused himself. "I +think I can say it now," he observed. "I could not go home, you know, +Val, till it was said." + +"Till what was said, uncle?" + +"I forget," was the answer. "You must help me." + +Valentine suggested various things which had been discussed that day; +but they did not help him, and he sank into thought. + +"I hope I was not going to make any mistake," he shortly said, and +Valentine began to suppose he really had something particular to say. "I +think my dear brother and I decided for ever to hold our peace," he next +murmured, after a long pause. + +Valentine was silent. The allusion to his father made him remember how +completely all the more active and eventful part of their lives had gone +by for these two old men before he came into the world. + +"What were you and John talking of just before he left?" said the old +man, after a puzzled pause. + +"Nothing of the least consequence," answered Valentine, feeling that he +had forgotten what he might have meant to say. "John would be uneasy if +he knew you were here still. Shall we go home?" + +"Not yet. If I mentioned this, you would never tell it to my John. There +is no need that my John should ever have a hint of it. You will promise +not to tell him?" + +"No, my dear uncle, indeed I could not think of such a thing," said +Valentine, now a little uneasy. If his uncle really had something +important to say, this was a strange request, and if he had not, his +thoughts must be wandering. + +"Well," said Grand, in a dull, quiet voice, as of one satisfied and +persuaded, "perhaps it is no duty of mine, then, to mention it. But what +was it that you and John were talking of just before he went away?" + +"You and John were going to send your cards, to inquire after Mrs. +A'Court, because she is ill. I asked if mine might go too, and as it was +handed across you took notice of what was on it, and said it pleased +you; do you remember? But John laughed about it." + +"Yes; and what did you answer, Val?" + +"I said that if everybody had his rights, that ought not to have been my +name at all. You ought to have been Mr. Mortimer now, and I Mr. +Melcombe." + +"I thought it was that," answered Grand, cogitating. "Yes, it was never +intended that you should touch a shilling of that property." + +"I know that, uncle," said Valentine. "My father always told me he had +no expectations from his mother. It was unlucky for me, that's all. I +don't mean to say," he continued, "that it has been any particular +disappointment, because I was always brought up to suppose I should have +nothing; but as I grow older I often think it seems rather a shame I +should be cut out; and as my father was, I am sure, one of the most +amiable of men, it is very odd that he never contrived to make it up +with the old lady." + +"He never had any quarrel with her," answered old Augustus. "He was +always her favourite son." + +Valentine looked at him with surprise. He appeared to be oppressed with +the lassitude of sleep, and yet to be struggling to keep his eyes open +and to say something. But he only managed to repeat his last words. +"I've told John all that I wish him to know," he next said, and then +succumbed and was asleep again. + +"The favourite son, and natural heir!" thought Valentine. "No quarrel, +and yet not inherit a shilling! That is queer, to say the least of it. +I'll go up to London and have another look at that will. And he has +told John something or other. Unless his thoughts are all abroad then, +he must have been alluding to two perfectly different things." + +Valentine now went to the carriage and fetched in the footman, hoping +that at sight of him his uncle might be persuaded to come home; but this +was done with so much difficulty that, when at last it was accomplished, +Valentine sent the carriage on to fetch John, and sat anxiously watching +till he came, and a medical man with him. + +Sleep and weakness, but no pain, and no disquietude. It was so at the +end of a week; it was so at the end of a fortnight, and then it became +evident that his sight was failing; he was not always aware whether or +not he was alone; he often prayed aloud also, but sometimes supposed +himself to be recovering. + +"Where is Valentine?" he said one afternoon, when John, having left him +to get some rest, Valentine had taken his place. "Are we alone?" he +asked, when Valentine had spoken to him. "What time is it?" + +"About four o'clock, uncle; getting dusk, and snow falls." + +"Yes, I heard you mention snow when the nurse went down to her tea. I am +often aware of John's presence when I cannot show it. Tell him so." + +"Yes, I will." + +"He is a dear good son to me." + +"Yes." + +"He ought not to make a sorrow of my removal. It disturbs me sometimes +to perceive that he does. He knows where my will is, and all my papers. +I have never concealed anything from him; I had never any cause." + +"No, indeed, uncle." + +"Till now," proceeded old Augustus. Valentine looked attentively in the +failing light at the majestic wreck of the tall, fine old man. He made +out that the eyes were closed, and that the face had its usual +immobile, untroubled expression, and the last words startled him. "I +have thought it best," he continued, "not to leave you anything in my +will." + +"No," said Valentine, "because you gave me that two thousand pounds +during your lifetime." + +"Yes, my dear; my memory does not fail me. John will not be cursed with +one guinea of ill-gotten wealth. Valentine!" + +"Yes, uncle, yes; I am here; I am not going away." + +"You have the key of my cabinet, in the library. Go and fetch me a +parcel that is in the drawer inside." + +"Let me ring, then, first for some one to come; for you must not be left +alone." + +"Leave me, I say, and do as I tell you." + +Valentine, vexed, but not able to decline, ran down in breathless haste, +found the packet of that peculiar sort and size usually called a +banker's parcel, locked the cabinet, and returned to the old man's bed. + +"Are we alone?" he asked, when Valentine had made his presence known to +him. "Let me feel that parcel. Ah, your father was very dear to me. I +owe everything to him--everything." + +Valentine, who was not easy as to what would come next, replied like an +honourable man, "So you said, uncle, when you generously gave me that +two thousand pounds." + +"Ill-gotten wealth," old Augustus murmured, "never prospers; it is a +curse to its possessor. My son, my John, will have none of it. +Valentine!" + +"Yes." + +"What do you think was the worst-earned money that human fingers ever +handled?" + +The question so put suggested but one answer. + +"_That_ thirty pieces of silver," said Valentine. + +"Ah!" replied Augustus with a sigh. "Well, thank God, none of us can +match that crime. But murders have been done, and murderers have +profited by the spoil! When those pieces of silver were lying on the +floor of the temple, after the murderer was dead, to whom do you think +they belonged?" + +Valentine was excessively startled; the voice seemed higher and thinner +than usual, but the conversation had begun so sensibly, and the wrinkled +hand kept such firm hold still of the parcel, that it surprised him to +feel, as he now did, that his dear old uncle was wandering, and he +answered nothing. + +"Not to the priests," continued Augustus, and as a pause followed, +Valentine felt impelled to reply. + +"No," he said, "they belonged to his family, no doubt, if they had +chosen to pick them up." + +"Ah, that is what I suppose. If his father, poor wretch, or perhaps his +miserable mother, had gone into the temple that day, it would have been +a strange sight, surely, to see her gather them up." + +"Yes," said Valentine faintly. The shadow of something too remote to +make its substance visible appeared to fall over him then, causing him a +vague wonder and awe, and revulsion of feeling. He knew not whether this +old man was taking leave of sober daylight reason, or whether some fresh +sense of the worthlessness of earthly wealth, more especially ill-gotten +wealth, had come to him from a sudden remembrance of this silver--or---- + +He tried gently to lead his thoughts away from what seemed to be +troubling him, for his head turned restlessly on the pillow. + +"You have no need to think of that," he said kindly and quietly, "for as +you have just been saying, John will inherit nothing but well-earned +property." + +"John does not know of this," said Augustus. "I have drawn it out for +years by degrees, as he supposed, for household expenses. It is all in +Bank of England notes. Every month that I lived it would have become +more and more." + +Uncommonly circumstantial this! + +"It contains seventeen hundred pounds; take it in your hand, and hear +me." + +"Yes, uncle." + +"You cannot live on a very small income. You have evidently very little +notion of the value of money. You and John may not agree. It may not +suit him to have you with him; on the other hand--on the other +hand--what was I saying?" + +"That it might not suit John to have me with him." + +"Yes, yes; but, on the other hand (where is it gone), on the other hand, +it might excite his curiosity, his surprise, if I left you more in my +will. Now what am I doing this for? What is it? Daniel's son? Yes." + +"Dear uncle, try to collect your thoughts; there is something you want +me to do with this money, try to tell me what it is." + +"Have you got it in your hand?" + +"Yes, I have." + +"Keep it then, and use it for your own purposes." + +"Thank you. Are you sure that is what you meant? Is that all?" + +"Is that all? No. I said you were not to tell John." + +"Will you tell him yourself then?" asked Valentine. "I do not think he +would mind my having it." + +By way of answer to this, the old man actually laughed. Valentine had +thought he was long past that, but it was a joyful laugh, and almost +exultant. + +"Mind," he said, "my John! No; you attend to my desire, and to all I +have said. Also it is agreed between me and my son that if ever you two +part company, he is to give you a thousand pounds. I tell you this that +you may not suppose it has anything to do with the money in that parcel. +Your father was everything to me," he continued, his voice getting +fainter, and his speech more confused, as he went on, "and--and I never +expected to see him again in this world. And so you have come over to +see me, Daniel? Give me your hand. Come over to see me, and there are no +lights! God has been very good to me, brother, and I begin to think He +will call me into his presence soon." + +Valentine started up, and it was really more in order to carry out the +old man's desires, so solemnly expressed, than from any joy of +possession, that he put the parcel into his pocket before he rang for +the nurse and went to fetch John. + +He had borne a part in the last-sustained conversation the old man ever +held, and that day month, in just such a snow-storm as had fallen about +his much-loved brother, his stately white head was laid in the grave. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE DEAD FATHER ENTREATS. + + + "_Prospero._ I have done nothing but in care of thee, + Of thee, my dear one." + + _The Tempest._ + +Valentine rose early the morning after the funeral; John Mortimer had +left him alone in the house, and gone home to his children. + +John had regarded the impending death of his father more as a loss and a +misfortune than is common. He and the old man, besides being constant +companions, had been very intimate friends, and the rending of the tie +between them was very keenly felt by the son. + +Nothing, perhaps, differs more than the amount of affection felt by +different people; there is no gauge for it--language cannot convey it. +Yet instinctive perception shows us where it is great. Some feel little, +and show all that little becomingly; others feel much, and reveal +scarcely anything; but, on the whole, men are not deceived, each gets +the degree of help and sympathy that was due to him. + +Valentine had been very thoughtful for John; the invitations and orders +connected with a large funeral had been mainly arranged by him. + +Afterwards, he had been present at the reading of the will, and had been +made to feel that the seventeen hundred pounds in that parcel which he +had not yet opened could signify nothing to a son who was to enter on +such a rich inheritance as it set forth and specified. + +Still he wished his uncle had not kept the giving of it a secret, and, +while he was dressing, the details of that last conversation, the +falling snow, the failing light, and the high, thin voice, changed, and +yet so much more impressive for the change, recurred to his thoughts +more freshly than ever, perhaps because before he went down he meant to +open the parcel, which accordingly he did. + +Bank of England notes were in it, and not a line of writing on the white +paper that enfolded them. He turned it over, and then mechanically began +to count and add up the amount. Seventeen hundred pounds, neither more +nor less, and most assuredly his own. With the two thousand pounds he +already possessed, this sum would, independently of any exertions of his +own, bring him in nearly two hundred a-year. In case of failing health +this would be enough to live on modestly, either in England or on the +Continent. + +He leaned his chin on his hand, and, with a dull contentment looked at +these thin, crisp papers. He had cared for his old uncle very much, and +been exceedingly comfortable with him, and now that he was forbidden to +mention his last gift, he began to feel (though this had fretted him at +first) that it would make him more independent of John. + +But why should the old father have disliked to excite his son's surprise +and curiosity? Why, indeed, when he had laughed at the notion of John's +being capable of minding his doing as he pleased. + +Valentine pondered over this as he locked up his property. It was not +yet eight o'clock, and as he put out the candle he had lighted to count +his notes by (for the March morning was dark), he heard wheels, and, on +going down, met John in the hall. He had come in before the +breakfast-hour, as had often been his custom when he meant to breakfast +with his father. + +John's countenance showed a certain agitation. Valentine observing it, +gave him a quiet, matter-of-fact greeting, and talked of the weather. A +thaw had come on, and the snow was melting rapidly. For the moment John +seemed unable to answer, but when they got into the dining-room, he +said-- + +"I overtook St. George's groom. He had been to my house, he said, +thinking you were there. Your brother sent a message, rather an urgent +one, and this note to you. He wants you, it seems." + +"Wants me, wants ME!" exclaimed Valentine. "What for?" + +John shrugged his shoulders. + +"Is he ill?" continued Valentine. + +"The man did not say so." + +Valentine read the note. It merely repeated that his brother wanted him. +What an extraordinary piece of thoughtlessness this seemed! Brandon +might have perceived that Valentine would be much needed by John that +day. + +"You told me yesterday," said Valentine, "that there were various things +you should like me to do for you in the house to-day, and over at the +town too. So I shall send him word that I cannot go" + +"I think you had better go," said John. + +Valentine was sure that John would have been glad of his company. It +would be easier for a man with his peculiarly keen feelings not to have +to face all his clerks alone the first time after his father's death. + +"You must go," he repeated, however. "St. George would never have +thought of sending for you unless for some urgent reason. If you take my +dog-cart you will be in time for the breakfast there, which is at nine. +The horse is not taken out." + +Valentine still hesitating, John added-- + +"But, I may as well say now that my father's removal need make no +difference in our being together. As far as I am concerned, I am very +well pleased with our present arrangement. I find in you an aptitude for +business affairs that I could by no means have anticipated. So if St. +George wants to consult you about some new plan for you (which I hardly +think can be the case), you had better hear what I have to say before +you turn yourself out." + +Valentine thanked him cordially. Emily had pointedly said to him, during +his uncle's last illness, that in the event of any change, she should be +pleased if he would come and live with her. He had made no answer, +because he had not thought John would wish the connection between them +to continue. But now everything was easy. His dear old uncle had left +him a riding-horse, and some books. He had only to move these to Emily's +house, and so without trouble enter another home. + +It was not yet nine o'clock when Valentine entered the dining-room in +his brother's house. + +The gloom was over, the sun had burst forth, lumps of snow, shining in +the dazzle of early sunlight, were falling with a dull thud from the +trees, while every smaller particle dislodged by a waft of air, dropped +with a flash as of a diamond. + +First Mrs. Henfrey came in and looked surprised to see Valentine; +wondered he had left John; had never seen a man so overcome at his +father's funeral. Then Giles came in with some purple and some orange +crocuses, which he laid upon his wife's plate. He said nothing about his +note, but went and fetched Dorothea, who was also evidently surprised to +see Valentine. + +How lovely and interesting she looked in his eyes that morning, so +serene herself, and an object of such watchful solicitude both to her +husband and his old step-sister! + +"Any man may feel interested in her now," thought Valentine, excusing +himself to himself for the glow of admiring tenderness that filled his +heart. "Sweet thing! Oh! what a fool I have been!" + +There was little conversation; the ladies were in mourning, and merely +asked a few questions as to the arrangements of the late relative's +affairs. Brandon sat at the head of the table, and his wife at his +right hand. There was something very cordial in his manner, but such an +evident turning away from any mention of having sent for him, that +Valentine, perceiving the matter to be private, followed his lead, and +when breakfast was over went with him up-stairs to his long room; at the +top of the house, his library and workshop. + +"Now, then," he exclaimed, when at last the door was shut and they were +alone, "I suppose I may speak? What can it be, old fellow, that induced +you to send for me at a time so peculiarly inconvenient to John?" + +"It was partly something that I read in a newspaper," answered Giles, +"and also--also a letter. A letter that was left in my care by your +father." + +"Oh! then you were to give it to me after my uncle's death, were you?" + +For all answer Giles said, "There it is," and Valentine, following his +eyes, saw a sealed parcel, not unlike in shape and size to the one he +had already opened that morning. It was lying on a small, opened desk. +"Take your time, my dear fellow," said Giles, "and read it carefully. I +shall come up again soon, and tell you how it came into my possession." + +Thereupon he left the room, and Valentine, very much surprised, advanced +to the table. + +The packet was not directed to any person, but outside it was written in +Brandon's clear hand, "Read by me on the 3rd of July, 18--, and sealed +up the following morning. G.B." + +Valentine sat down before it, broke his brother's seal, and took out a +large letter, the seal of which (his father's) had already been broken. +It was addressed, in his father's handwriting, "Giles Brandon, Esq., +Wigfield House." + +We are never so well inclined to believe in a stroke of good fortune as +when one has just been dealt to us. Valentine was almost sure he was +going to read of something that would prove to be to his advantage. His +uncle had behaved so strangely in providing him with his last bounty, +that it was difficult for him not to connect this letter with that gift. +Something might have been made over to his father on his behalf, and, +with this thought in his mind, he unfolded the sheet of foolscap and +read as follows:-- + + +"My much-loved Son,--You will see by the date of this letter that my +dearest boy Valentine is between seventeen and eighteen years of age +when I write it. I perceive a possible peril for him, and my brother +being old, there is no one to whom I can so naturally appeal on his +behalf as to you. + +"I have had great anxiety about you lately, but now you are happily +restored to me from the sea, and I know that I may fully trust both to +your love and your discretion. + +"Some men, my dear Giles, are happy enough to have nothing to hide. I am +not of that number; but I bless God that I can say, if I conceal aught, +it is not a work of my own doing, nor is it kept secret for my own sake. + +"It is now seven weeks since I laid in the grave the body of my aged +mother. She left her great-grandson, Peter Melcombe, the only son of my +nephew Peter Melcombe, whose father was my fourth brother, her sole +heir. + +"I do not think it wise to conceal from you that I, being her eldest +surviving son, desired of her, that she would not--I mean, that I forbad +my mother to leave her property to me. + +"It is not for me to judge her. I have never done so; for in her case I +know not what I could have done, but I write this in the full confidence +that both of you will respect my wishes; and that you, Giles, will never +divulge my secret, even to Valentine, unless what I fear should come to +pass, and render this necessary. + +"If Peter Melcombe, now a child, should live to marry, and an heir +should be born to him, then throw this letter into the fire, and let it +be to you as if it had never been written. If he even lives to come of +age, at which time he can make a will and leave his property where he +pleases, you may destroy it. + +"I do not feel afraid that the child will die, it is scarcely to be +supposed that he will. I pray God that it may not be so; but in case he +should--in case this child should be taken away during his minority, I +being already gone--then my grandfather's will is so worded that my son +Valentine, my only son, will be his heir. + +"Let Valentine know in such a case that I, his dead father, who +delighted in him, would rather have seen him die in his cradle, than +live by that land and inherit that gold. I have been poor, but I have +never turned to anything at Melcombe with one thought that it could mend +my case; and as I have renounced it for myself, I would fain renounce it +for my heirs for ever. Nothing is so unlikely as that this property +should ever fall to my son, but if it should, I trust to his love and +duty to let it be, and I trust to you, Giles, to make this easy for him, +either to get him away while he is yet young, to lead a fresh and manly +life in some one of our colonies, or to find some career at home for him +which shall provide him with a competence, that if such a temptation +should come in his way, he may not find it too hard to stand against. + +"And may the blessing of God light upon you for this (for I know you +will do it), more than for all the other acts of dutiful affection you +have ever shown me. + +"When I desire you to keep this a secret (as I hope always), I make no +exception in favour of any person whatever. + +"This letter is written with much thought and full deliberation, and +signed by him who ever feels as a loving father towards you. + +"Daniel Mortimer." + +Valentine had opened the letter with a preconceived notion as to its +contents, and this, together with excessive surprise, made him fail for +the moment to perceive one main point that it might have told him. + +When Brandon just as he finished reading came back, he found Valentine +seated before the letter amazed and pale. + +"What does it mean?" he exclaimed, when the two had looked searchingly +at one another. "What on earth can it mean?" + +"I have no idea," said Giles. + +"But you have had it for years," continued Valentine, very much +agitated. "Surely you have tried to find out what it means. Have you +made no inquiries?" + +"Yes. I have been to Melcombe. I could discover nothing at all. No," in +answer to another look, "neither then, or at any other time." + +"But you are older than I am, so much older, had you never any suspicion +of anything at all? Did nothing ever occur before I was old enough to +notice things which roused in you any suspicions?" + +"Suspicions of what?" + +"Of disgrace, I suppose. Of crime perhaps I mean; but I don't know what +I mean. Do you think John knows of this?" + +"No. I am sure he does not. But don't agitate yourself," he went on, +observing that Valentine's hand trembled. "Remember, that whatever this +secret was that your father kept buried in his breast, it has never been +found out, that is evident, and therefore it is most unlikely now that +it ever should be. In my opinion, and it is the only one I have fully +formed about the matter, this crime or this disgrace--I quote your own +words--must have taken place between sixty and seventy years ago, and +your father expressly declares that he had nothing to do with it." + +"But if the old woman had," began Valentine vehemently, and paused. + +"How can that be?" answered Giles. "He says, 'I know not in her case +what I could have done,' and that he has never judged her." + +Valentine heaved up a mighty sigh, excitement made his pulses beat and +his hands tremble. + +"What made you think," he said, "that it was so long ago? I am so +surprised that I cannot think coherently." + +"To tell you why I think so, is to tell you something more that I +believe you don't know." + +"Well," said the poor fellow, sighing restlessly, "out with it, Giles." + +"Your father began life by running away from home." + +"Oh, I know that." + +"You do?" + +"Yes, my dear father told it to me some weeks before he died, but I did +not like it, I wished to dismiss it from my thoughts." + +"Indeed! but will you try to remember now, how he told it to you and +what he said." + +"It was very simple. Though now I come to think of it, with this new +light thrown upon it--Yes; he did put it very oddly, very strangely, so +that I did not like the affair, or to think of it. He said that as there +was now some intercourse between us and Melcombe, a place that he had +not gone near for so very many years, it was almost certain, that, +sooner or later, I should hear something concerning himself that would +surprise me. It was singular that I had not heard it already. I did not +like to hear him talk in his usual pious way of such an occurrence; for +though of course we know that all things _are_ overruled for good to +those who love God----" + +"Well?" said Brandon, when he paused to ponder. + +"Well," repeated Valentine, "for all that, and though he referred to +that very text, I did not like to hear him say that he blessed God he +had been led to do it; and that, if ever I heard of it, I was to +remember that he thought of it with gratitude." + +Saying this, he turned over the pages again. "But there is nothing of +that here," he said, "how did you discover it?" + +"I was told of it at Melcombe," said Brandon, hesitating. + +"By whom?" + +"It seemed to be familiarly known there." He glanced at the _Times_ +which was laid on the table just beyond the desk at which Valentine sat. +"It was little Peter Melcombe," he said gravely, "who mentioned it to +me." + +"What! the poor little heir!" exclaimed Valentine, rather +contemptuously. "I would not be in his shoes for a good deal! But +Giles--but Giles--you have shown me the letter!" + +He started up. + +"Yes, there it is," said Giles, glancing again at the _Times_, for he +perceived instantly that Valentine for the first time had remembered on +what contingency he was to be told of this matter. + +There it was indeed! The crisis of his fate in a few sorrowful words had +come before him. + +"At Corfu, on the 28th of February, to the inexpressible grief of his +mother, Peter, only child of the late Peter Melcombe, Esq., and +great-grandson and heir of the late Mrs. Melcombe, of Melcombe. In the +twelfth year of his age." + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed Valentine, in an awestruck whisper. "Then it +has come to this, after all?" + +He sat silent so long, that his brother had full time once more to +consider this subject in all its bearings, to perceive that Valentine +was trying to discover some reasonable cause for what his father had +done, and then to see his countenance gradually clear and his now +flashing eyes lose their troubled expression. + +"I know you have respected my poor father's confidence," he said at +last. + +"Yes, I have." + +"And you never heard anything from him by word of mouth that seemed +afterwards to connect itself with this affair?" + +"Yes, I did," Brandon answered, "he said to me just before my last +voyage, that he had written an important letter, told me where it was, +and desired me to observe that his faculties were quite unimpaired long +after the writing of it." + +"I do not think they could have been," Valentine put in, and he +continued his questions. "You think that you have never, never heard him +say anything, at any time which at all puzzled or startled you, and +which you remembered after this?" + +"No, I never did. He never surprised me, or excited any suspicion at any +time about anything, till I had broken the seal of that letter." + +"And after all," Valentine said, turning the pages, "how little there is +in it, how little it tells me!" + +"Hardly anything, but there is a great deal, there is everything in his +having been impelled to write it." + +"Well, poor man" (Giles was rather struck by this epithet), "if secrecy +was his object, he has made that at least impossible. I must soon know +all, whatever it is. And more than that, if I act as he wishes, in fact, +as he commands, all the world will set itself to investigate the +reason." + +"Yes, I am afraid so," Brandon answered, "I have often thought of that." + +Valentine went on. "I always knew, felt rather, that he must have had a +tremendous quarrel with his elder brother. He never would mention him if +he could help it, and showed an ill-disguised unforgiving sort +of--almost dread, I was going to say, of him, as if he had been +fearfully bullied by him in his boyhood and could not forget it; but," +he continued, still pondering, "it surely is carrying both anger and +superstition a little too far, to think that when he is in his grave it +will do his son any harm to inherit the land of the brother he +quarrelled with." + +"Yes," said Giles, "when one considers how most of the land of this +country was first acquired, how many crimes lie heavy on its various +conquerors, and how many more have been perpetrated in its transmission +from one possessor to another;" then he paused, and Valentine took up +his words. + +"It seems incredible that he should have thought an old quarrel (however +bitter) between two boys ought, more than half a century afterwards, to +deprive the son of one of them from taking his lawful inheritance." + +"Yes," Brandon said. "He was no fool; he could not have thought so, and +therefore it could not have been that, or anything like it. Nor could he +have felt that he was in any sense answerable for the poor man's death, +for I have ascertained that there had been no communication between the +two branches of the family for several years before he laid violent +hands on himself." + +Valentine sighed restlessly. "The whole thing is perfectly +unreasonable," he said; "in fact, it would be impossible to do as he +desires, even if I were ever so willing." + +"Impossible?" exclaimed Brandon. + +"Yes, the estate is already mine; how is it possible for me not to take +it? I must prove the will, the old will, the law would see to that, for +there will be legacy duty to pay. Even if I chose to fling the income +into the pond, I must save out enough to satisfy the tax-gatherers. You +seem to take for granted that I will and can calmly and secretly let the +estate be. But have you thought out the details at all? Have you formed +any theory as to how this is to be done?" + +He spoke with some impatience and irritation, it vexed him to perceive +that his brother had fully counted on the dead father's letter being +obeyed. Brandon had nothing to say. + +"Besides," continued Valentine, "where is this sort of thing to stop? +If I die to-morrow, John is my heir. Is he to let it alone? Could he?" + +"I don't know," answered Brandon. "He has not the same temptation to +take it that you have." + +"Temptation!" repeated Valentine. + +Brandon did not retract or explain the word. + +"And does he know any reason, I wonder, why he should renounce it?" +continued Valentine, but as he spoke his hand, which he had put out to +take the _Times_, paused on its way, and his eyes involuntarily opened a +little wider. Something, it seemed, had struck him, and he was recalling +it and puzzling it out. Two or three lilies thrown under a lilac tree by +John's father had come back to report themselves, nothing more recent or +more startling than that, for he was still thinking of the elder +brother. "And he must have hated him to the full as much as my poor +father did," was his thought. "That garden had been shut up for his sake +many, many years. Wait a minute, if that man got the estate wrongfully, +I'll have nothing to do with it after all. Nonsense! Why do I slander +the dead in my thoughts? as if I had not read that will many times--he +inherited after the old woman's sickly brother, who died at sea." After +this his thoughts wandered into all sorts of vague and intricate paths +that led to no certain goal; he was not even certain at last that there +was anything real to puzzle about. His father might have been under some +delusion after all. + +At last his wandering eyes met Brandon's. + +"Well!" he exclaimed, as if suddenly waking up. + +"How composedly he takes it, and yet how amazed he is!" thought Brandon. +"Well," he replied, by way of answer. + +"I shall ask you, Giles, as you have kept this matter absolutely secret +so long, to keep it secret still; at any rate for awhile, from every +person whatever." + +"I think you have a right to expect that of me, I will." + +"Poor little fellow! died at Corfu then. The news is all over Wigfield +by this time, no doubt. John knows it of course, now." Again he paused, +and this time it was his uncle's last conversation that recurred to his +memory. It was most unwelcome. Brandon could see that he looked more +than disturbed; he was also angry; and yet after awhile, both these +feelings melted away, he was like a man who had walked up to a cobweb, +that stretched itself before his face, but when he had put up his hand +and cleared it off, where was it? + +He remembered how the vague talk of a dying old man had startled him. + +The manner of the gift and the odd feeling he had suffered at the time, +as if it might be somehow connected with the words said, appeared to +rise up to be looked at. But one can hardly look straight at a thing of +that sort without making it change its aspect. Sensations and +impressions are subject to us; they may be reasoned down. His reason was +stronger than his fear had been, and made it look foolish. He brought +back the words, they were disjointed, they accused no one, they could +not be put together. So he covered that recollection over, and threw it +aside. He did not consciously hide it from himself, but he did know in +his own mind that he should not relate it to his brother. + +"Well, you have done your part," he said at length; "and now I must see +about doing mine." + +"No one could feel more keenly than I do, how hard this is upon you," +said Brandon; but Valentine detected a tone of relief in his voice, as +if he took the words to mean a submission to the father's wish, and as +if he was glad. "My poor father might have placed some confidence in me, +instead of treating me like a child," he said bitterly; "why on earth +could he not tell me all." + +"Why, my dear fellow," exclaimed Brandon; "surely if you were to +renounce the property, it would have been hard upon you and John to be +shamed or tortured by any knowledge of the crime and disgrace that it +came with." + +"That it came with!" repeated Valentine; "you take that for granted, +then? You have got further than I have." + +"I think, of course, that the crime was committed, or the disgrace +incurred, for the sake of the property." + +"Well," said Valentine, "I am much more uncertain about the whole thing +than you seem to be. I shall make it my duty to investigate the matter. +I must find out everything; perhaps it will be only too easy; according +to what I find I shall act. One generation has no right so to dominate +over another as to keep it always in childlike bondage to a command for +which no reason is given. If, when I know, I consider that my dear +father was right, I shall of my own free-will sell the land, and divest +myself of the proceeds. If that he was wrong, I shall go and live +fearlessly and freely in that house, and on that land which, in the +course of providence, has come to me." + +"Reasonable and cool," thought Brandon. "Have I any right to say more? +He will do just what he says. No one was ever more free from +superstition; and he is of age, as he reminds me." + +"Very well," he then said aloud; "you have a right to do as you please. +Still, I must remind you of your father's distinct assertion, that in +this case he has set you an example. He would not have the land." + +"Does he mean," said Valentine, confused between his surprise at the +letter, his own recollections, and his secret wishes--"Does he, can he +mean, that his old mother positively asked him to be her heir, and he +refused?" + +"I cannot tell; how is the will worded?" + +"My great-grandfather left his estate to his only son, and if _he_ died +childless, to his eldest grandson; both these were mere boys at the +time, and if neither lived to marry, then the old man left his estate +to his only daughter. That was my grandmother, you know, and she had it +for many years." + +"And she had power to will it away, as is evident." + +"Yes, she might leave it to any one of her sons, or his representative; +but she was not to divide it into shares. And in case of the branch she +favoured dying out, the estate was to revert to his heir-at-law--the old +man's heir-at-law, you know, his nearest of kin. That would have been my +father, if he had lived a year or two longer, he was the second son. It +is a most complicated and voluminous will." + +Brandon asked one more question. "But its provisions come to an end with +you, is it not so? It is not entailed, and you can do with it exactly as +you please." + +Valentine's countenance fell a little when his brother said this; he +perceived that he chanced to be more free than most heirs, he had more +freedom than he cared for. + +"Yes," he replied, "that is so." + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +SOPHISTRY. + + + "'As he has not trusted me, he will never know how I should scorn to + be a thief,' quoth the school boy yesterday, when his master's + orchard gate was locked; but, 'It's all his own fault,' quoth the + same boy to-day while he was stealing his master's plums, 'why did + he leave the gate ajar?'" + +"Val," said Brandon, "I do hope you will give yourself time to consider +this thing in all its bearings before you decide. I am afraid if you +make a mistake, it will prove a momentous one." + +He spoke with a certain feeling of restraint, his advice had not been +asked; and the two brothers began to perceive by this time that it was +hard to keep up an air of easy familiarity when neither felt really at +ease. Each was thinking of the lovely young wife down-stairs. One felt +that he could hardly preach to the man whose folly had been his own +opportunity, the other felt that nothing would be more sweet than to let +her see that, after all, she had married a man not half so rich nor in +so good a position as her first love, for so he chose to consider +himself. How utter, how thorough an escape this would be also from the +least fear of further dependence on Giles! And, as to his having made a +fool of himself, and having been well laughed at for his pains, he was +perfectly aware that as Melcombe of Melcombe, and with those personal +advantages that he by no means undervalued, nobody would choose to +remember that story against him, and he might marry almost wherever he +pleased. + +As he turned in his chair to think, he caught a glimpse of his old +uncle's house, just a corner through some trees, of his own bedroom +window there, the place where that parcel was. + +He knew that, think as long as he would, Giles would not interrupt. +"Yes, that parcel! Well, I'm independent, anyhow," he considered +exultingly; and the further thought came into his mind, "I am well +enough off. What if I were to give this up and stay with John? I know he +is surprised and pleased to find me so useful. I shall be more so; the +work suits me, and brings out all I have in me; I like it. Then I always +liked being with Emily, and I should soon be master in that house. +Bother the estate! I felt at first that I could not possibly fling it +by, but really--really I believe that in a few years, when John goes +into Parliament, he'll make me his partner. It's very perplexing; yes, +I'll think it well over, as Giles says. I'll do as I please; and I've a +great mind to let that doomed old den alone after all." + +Though he expressed his mind in these undignified words, it was not +without manly earnestness that he turned back to his brother, and said +seriously, "Giles, I do assure you that I will decide nothing till I +have given the whole thing my very best attention. In the meantime, of +course, whatever you hear, you will say nothing. I shall certainly not +go to Melcombe for a few days, I've got so attached to John, somehow, +that I cannot think of leaving him in the lurch just now when he is out +of spirits, and likes to have me with him." + +Thereupon the brothers parted, Valentine going downstairs, and Brandon +sitting still in his room, a smile dawning on his face, and a laugh +following. + +"Leaving John in the lurch!" he repeated. "What would my lord John think +if he could hear that; but I have noticed for some time that they like +one another. What a notion Val has suddenly formed of his own +importance! There was really something like dignity in his leave-taking. +He does not intend that I should interfere, as is evident. And I am not +certain that if he asked for my advice I should know what to say. I was +very clear in my own mind that when he consulted me I should say, +'Follow your father's desire.' I am still clear that I would do so +myself in such a case; but I am not asked for my opinion. I think he +will renounce the inheritance, on reflection; if he does, I shall be +truly glad that it was not at all by my advice, or to please me. But if +he does not? Well, I shall not wish to make the thing out any worse than +it is. I always thought that letter weak as a command, but strong as a +warning. It would be, to say the least of it, a dutiful and filial +action to respect that warning. A warning not to perpetuate some wrong, +for instance; but what wrong? I saw a miniature of Daniel Mortimer the +elder, smiling, handsome, and fair-haired. It not only reminded me +strongly of my step-father, but of the whole race, John, Valentine, +John's children, and all. Therefore, I am sure there need be 'no scandal +about Queen Elizabeth' Mortimer, and its discovery on the part of her +son." + +Meanwhile, Valentine, instead of driving straight back to Wigfield, +stopped short at his sister Emily's new house, intending to tell her +simply of the death of little Peter Melcombe, and notice how she took +it. O that the letter had been left to him instead of to Giles! How +difficult it was, moreover, to believe that Giles had possessed it so +long, and yet that its contents were dead to every one else that +breathed! If Giles had not shown him by his manner what he ought to do, +he thought he might have felt better inclined to do it. Certain it is +that being now alone, he thought of his fathers desire with more +respect. + +Emily had been settled about a month in her new house, and Miss Christie +Grant was with her. There was a pretty drawing-room, with bow windows +at the back of it. Emily had put there her Indian cabinets, and many +other beautiful things brought from the east, besides decorating it with +delicate ferns, and bulbs in flower. She was slightly inclined to be +lavish so far as she could afford it; but her Scotch blood kept her just +on the right side of prudence, and so gave more grace to her undoubted +generosity. + +This house, which had been chosen by Mrs. Henfrey, was less than a +quarter of a mile from John Mortimer's, and was approached by the same +sandy lane. In front, on the opposite side of this lane, the house was +sheltered by a great cliff, crowned with fir trees, and enriched with +wild plants and swallows' caves; and behind, at the end of her garden +ran the same wide brook which made a boundary for John Mortimer's +ground. + +This circumstance was a great advantage to the little Mortimers, who +with familiar friendship made themselves at once at home all over Mrs. +Nemily's premises, and forthwith set little boats and ships afloat on +the brook in the happy certainty that sooner or later they would come +down to their rightful owners. + +Valentine entered the drawing-room, and a glance as he stooped to kiss +his sister served to assure him that she knew nothing of the great news. + +She put her two hands upon his shoulders, and her sweet eyes looked into +his. A slightly shamefaced expression struck her. "Does the dear boy +think he is in love again?" she thought; "who is it, I wonder?" The look +became almost sheepish; and she, rather surprised, said to him, "Well, +Val, you see the house is ready." + +"Yes," he answered, looking round him with a sigh. + +Emily felt that he might well look grave and sad; it was no common +friend that he had lost. "How is John?" she asked. + +"Why, he was very dull; very dull indeed, when I left him this morning; +and natural enough he should be." + +"Yes, most natural." + +Then he said, after a little more conversation on their recent loss, +"Emily, I came to tell you something very important--to me at least," +here the shamefaced look came back. "Oh, no," he exclaimed, as a flash +of amazement leaped out of her eyes; "nothing of that sort." + +"I am glad to hear it," she answered, not able to forbear smiling; "but +sit down then, you great, long-legged fellow, you put me out of conceit +with this room; you make the ceiling look too low." + +"Oh, do I?" said Valentine, and he sat down in a comfortable chair, and +thought he could have been very happy with Emily, and did not know how +to begin to tell her. + +"I must say I admire your taste, Emily," he then said, looking about +him, and shirking the great subject. + +Emily was a little surprised at his holding off in this way, so she in +her turn took the opportunity to say something fresh; something that she +thought he might as well hear. + +"And so John's dull, is he? Poor John! Do you know, Val, the last time I +saw him he was very cross." + +"Indeed! why was he cross?" + +"It was about a month ago. He laughed, but I know he was cross. St. +George and I went over at his breakfast-time to get the key of this +house, which had been left with him; and, while I ran up-stairs to see +the children, he told St. George how, drawing up his blind to shave that +morning, he had seen you chasing Barbara and Miss Green (that little +temporary governess of theirs) about the garden. Barbara threw some +snowballs at you, but you caught her and kissed her." + +"She is a kind of cousin," Valentine murmured; "besides, she is a mere +child." + +"But she is a very tall child," said Emily. "She is within two inches as +tall as I am. Miss Green is certainly no child." + +Valentine did not wish to enter on that side of the question. "I'm sure +I don't know how one can find out when to leave off kissing one's +cousins," he observed. + +"Oh! I can give you an easy rule for that," said Emily; "leave off the +moment you begin to care to do it: they will probably help you by +beginning, just about the same time, to think they have bestowed kisses +enough." + +"It all arose out of my kindness," said Valentine. "John had already +begun to be anxious about the dear old man, so I went over that morning +before breakfast, and sent him up a message. His father was decidedly +better; and as he had to take a journey that day, I thought he should +know it as soon as possible. But Emily----" + +"Yes, dear boy?" + +"I really did come to say something important." And instantly as he +spoke he felt what a tragical circumstance this was for some one else, +and that such would be Emily's first thought and view of it. + +"What is it?" she exclaimed, now a little startled. + +Valentine had turned rather pale. He tasted the bitter ingredients in +this cup of prosperity more plainly now; and he wished that letter was +at the bottom of the sea. "Why--why it is something you will be very +sorry for, too," he said, his voice faltering. "It's poor little Peter +Melcombe." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Emily, with an awestruck shudder. "There! I said so." + +"WHAT did you say?" cried Valentine, so much struck by her words that he +recovered his self-possession instantly. + +"Poor, poor woman," she went on, the ready tears falling on her cheeks; +"and he was her only child!" + +"But what do you mean, Emily?" continued Valentine, startled and +suspicious. "_What_ did you say?" + +"Oh!" she answered, "nothing that I had any particular reason for +saying. I felt that it might be a great risk to take that delicate boy +to Italy again, where he had been ill before, and I told John I wished +we could prevent it. I could not forget that his death would be a fine +thing for my brother, and I felt a sort of fear that this would be the +end of it." + +Valentine was relieved. She evidently knew nothing, and he could listen +calmly while she went on. + +"My mere sense of the danger made it a necessity for me to act. I +suppose you will be surprised when I tell you"--here two more tears +fell--"that I wrote to Mrs. Melcombe. I knew she was determined to go on +the Continent, and I said if she liked to leave her boy behind, I would +take charge of him. It was the day before dear Fred was taken ill." + +"And she declined!" said Valentine. "Well, it was very kind of you, very +good of you, and just like you. Let us hope poor Mrs. Melcombe does not +remember it now." + +"Yes, she declined; said her boy had an excellent constitution. Where +did the poor little fellow die?" + +"At Corfu." + +Emily wept for sympathy with the mother, and Valentine sat still +opposite to her, and was glad of the silence; it pleased him to think of +this that Emily had done, till all on a sudden some familiar words out +of the Bible flashed into his mind, strange, quaint words, and it seemed +much more as if somebody kept repeating them in his presence than as if +he had turned them over himself to the surface, from among the mass of +scraps that were lying littered about in the chambers of his memory. +"The words of Jonadab the son of Rechab, that he commanded his sons." + +"May I see the letter?" asked Emily. + +"There was no letter; we saw it in the _Times_," said Valentine; and +again the mental repetition began. "The son of Rechab, that he commanded +HIS sons, are performed; for unto this day----" + +Emily had dried her eyes now. "Well, Val dear," she said, and hesitated. + +"Oh, I wish she would give me time to get once straight through to the +end, and have done with it," thought Valentine. "'The words of Jonadab +the son of Rechab, that he commanded _his_ sons, are----' (yes, only the +point of it is that they're not--not yet, at any rate) the words of +Jonadab." + +Here Emily spoke again. "Well, Val, nobody ever came into an estate more +naturally and rightly than you do, for, however well you may have +behaved about it, and nobody could have behaved better, you must have +felt that as the old lady chose to leave all to one son, that should not +have been the youngest. I hope you will be happy; and I know you will +make a kind, good landlord. It seems quite providential that you should +have spent so much time in learning all about land and farming. I have +always felt that all which was best and nicest in you would come out, if +you could have prosperity, and we now see that it was intended for you." + +Cordial, delightful words to Valentine; they almost made him forget this +letter that she had never heard of. + +"Oh, if you please, ma'am," exclaimed a female servant, bursting into +the room, "Mr. Brandon's love to you. He has sent the pony-carriage, and +he wants you to come back in it directly." + +Something in the instant attention paid to this message, and the +alacrity with which Emily ran up-stairs, as if perfectly ready, and +expectant of it, showed Valentine that it did not concern his +inheritance, but also what and whom it probably did concern, and he +sauntered into the little hall to wait for Emily, put her into the +carriage and fold the rug round her, while he observed without much +surprise that she had for the moment quite forgotten his special +affairs, and was anxious and rather urgent to be off. + +Then he drove into Wigfield, considering in his own mind that if John +did not know anything concerning the command in this strange letter, he +and he only was the person who ought to be told and consulted about it. + +It rained now, and when he entered the bank and paused to take off his +wet coat, he saw on every face as it was lifted up that his news was +known, and his heart beat so fast as he knocked at John's door that he +had hardly strength to obey the hearty "Come in." + +Two minutes would decide what John knew, and whether he also had a +message to give him from the dead. John was standing with his back to +the fire, grave and lost in thought. Valentine came in, and sat down on +one side of the grate, putting his feet on the fender to warm them. When +he had done this, he longed to change his attitude, for John neither +moved nor spoke, and he could not see his face. His own agitation made +him feel that he was watched, and that he could not seem ill at ease, +and must not be the first to move; but at last when the silence and +immobility of John became intolerable to him, he suddenly pushed back +his chair, and looked up. John then turned his head slightly, and their +eyes met. + +"You know it," said Valentine. + +"Yes," John answered gravely, "of course." + +"Oh! what next, what next?" thought Valentine, and he spent two or three +minutes in such a tumult of keen expectation and eager excitement, that +he could hear every beat of his heart quite plainly, and then-- + +"It is a very great upset of all my plans," John said, still with more +gravity than usual. "I had fully intended--indeed, I had hoped, old +fellow, that you and I would be partners some day." + +"Oh, John," exclaimed Valentine, a sudden revulsion of feeling almost +overcoming him now he found that his fears as to what John might be +thinking of were groundless. "Oh, John, I wish we could! It might be a +great deal better for me. And so you really did mean it? You are more +like a brother than anything else. I hate the thought of that +ill-starred house; I think I'll stop here with you." + +"Nonsense," said John, just as composedly and as gravely as ever; "what +do you mean, you foolish lad?" But he appreciated the affection +Valentine had expressed for him, and kindly put his hand on his young +relative's shoulder. + +Valentine had never found it so hard to understand himself as at that +moment. His course was free, Giles could not speak, and John knew +nothing; yet either the firm clasp of a man's hand on his shoulder +roused him to the fact that he cared for this man so much that he could +be happier under his orders than free and his own master, or else his +father's words gathered force by mere withdrawal of opposition. + +For a moment he almost wished John did know; he wanted to be fortified +in his desire to remain with him; and yet--No! he could not tell him; +that would be taking his fate out of his own hands for ever. + +"You think then I must--take it up; in short, go and live in it?" he +said at length. + +"Think!" exclaimed John, with energy and vehemence; "why, who could +possibly think otherwise?" + +"I've always been accustomed to go in and out amongst a posse of my own +relations." + +"Your own relations must come to you then," answered John pleasantly, +"I, for one. Why, Melcombe's only fifty or sixty miles off, man!" + +"It seems to me now that I'm very sorry for that poor little fellow's +death," Valentine went on. + +"Nobody could have behaved better during his lifetime than you have +done," John said. "Why, Val," he exclaimed, looking down, "you astonish +me!" + +Valentine was vainly struggling with tears. John went and bolted the +door; then got some wine, and brought him a glass. + +"As calm as possible during my father's death and funeral," he thought, +"and now half choking himself, forsooth, because his fortune's made, and +he must leave his relations. I trust and hope, with all my heart, that +Dorothea is not at the bottom of this! I supposed his nerves to be +strong enough for anything." + +Valentine was deadly pale. He put up a shaking hand for the glass, and +as he drank the wine, and felt the blood creeping warmly about his limbs +again, he thought "John knows nothing whatever. No wonder he is +astonished, he little thinks what a leap in the dark it is." + +And so the die was cast. + +A few days after this Gladys and Barbara received letters; the first ran +as follows:-- + +"My dear young Friends,--Owe you three-and-sixpence for Blob's biscuits, +do I? Don't you know that it is not polite to remind people of their +debts? When you would have been paid that money I cannot think, if it +were not for a circumstance detailed below. I have just been reading +that the finest minds always possess a keen sense of humour, so if you +find nothing to laugh at in this, it will prove that there is nothing +particular in you. Did I ever think there was? Well, why _will_ you ask +such awkward questions?--Off! + + THE NOBLE TUCK-MAN. + + Americus as he did wend + With A.J. Mortimer, his chum, + The two were greeted by a friend, + "And how are you, boys, Hi, Ho, Hum?" + + He spread a note so crisp, so neat + (Ho and Hi, and tender Hum), + + "If you of this a fifth can eat + I'll give you the remainder. Come!" + + To the tuck-shop three repair + (Ho and Hum, and pensive Hi), + One looks on to see all's fair + Two call out for hot mince pie. + + Thirteen tarts, a few Bath buns + (Hi and Hum, and gorgeous Ho), + Lobster cakes (the butter'd ones), + All at once they cry "No go." + + Than doth tuck-man smile. "Them there + (Ho and Hi, and futile Hum) + Jellies three and sixpence air, + Use of spoons an equal sum." + + Three are rich. Sweet task 'tis o'er, + "Tuckman, you're a brick," they cry, + Wildly then shake hands all four + (Hum and Ho, the end is Hi). + +"N.B.--He spoke as good English as we did, and we did not shake hands +with him. Such is poetic license. I may have exaggerated a little, as to +the number of things we ate. I repeat, I _may_ have done. You will never +be able to appreciate me till you have learned to make allowance for +such little eccentricities of genius. + +"Yours, with sentiments that would do anybody credit, + +"Gifford Crayshaw." + +The second letter, which was also addressed to both sisters, was from +Johnnie, and ran as follows:-- + +"Now look here, you two fellows are not to expect me to spend all my +spare time in writing to you. Where do you think I am now? Why, at +Brighton. + +"Val's a brick. Yesterday was our _Exeat_, and he came down to Harrow, +called for me and Cray, and brought us here to the Old Ship Hotel. We +two chose the dinner, and in twenty minutes that dinner was gone like a +dream. Val and Cray made the unlucky waiter laugh till he dropped the +butter-boat. The waiter was a proud man--I never saw a prouder. He had +made up his mind that nothing should make him laugh, but at last we had +him. Beware of pride, my friends. + +"Then we went to the Aquarium. My wig! I never saw anything so +extraordinary. It ought to be called the Aquaria, for there are dozens +of them. They are like large rooms full of water, and you go and look in +at the fish through the windows. No, they're more like caves than rooms, +they have rocks for walls. Talk of the ancient Greeks! I'll never wish +to be one of those fogies again! I've seen turtles now under water, +sitting opposite to one another, bowing and looking each in his fellow's +face, just like two cats on a rug. Why the world's full of things that +_they_ knew nothing about. + +"But I had no notion that fish were such fools, some of them, at least. +There were some conger eels seven feet long, and when we stared at them +they went and stuck their little heads into crevices in the rocks. I +should like to have reasoned with them, for they evidently thought they +were hidden, while, in fact, they were wriggling upside down, full in +view. Well, so then we went to see the octopus. One was just like a pink +satin bag, covered with large ivory buttons, but that was only because +it was inside out. While I was watching it I rather started, for I saw +in a corner of the den close to me an enormous sort of bloated sea +toadstool (as I thought), but it had eyes, it was covered with warts, it +seemed very faint, and it heaved and panted. By that time a +conglomeration like a mass of writhing serpents was letting itself down +the side of the den, and when it got to the bottom it shot out a head, +made itself into the exact shape of an owl without wings, and began to +fly about the place. That made three. + +"An old woman who was looking at them too, called out then, 'Oh, you +brute, I hate you,' and Val said to her, 'My good lady, allow me to +suggest that it is not hatred you feel, but envy. Envy is a very bad +passion, and it is our duty to try and restrain it.' 'Sir,' said the +old lady, rather fiercely. 'No, we must not give way to envy,' Val +persisted, 'though, indeed, what are we in comparison with creatures who +can turn themselves inside out as soon as look at you, fly without +wings, and walk up a precipice by means of one pearl button?' 'If the +police were after you, it might be handy to turn yourself inside out, +I'll allow,' she answered, in a very loud, angry voice, 'so as they +should not know you; but I wouldn't, if I could, I'll assure you, young +man, no, that I wouldn't, not for all the pearl buttons in the world.' + +"Well, I never wrote such a long letter in my life, it must count for +three, mind. We had a great deal more fun after that, but Val and I got +away, because a little crowd collected. Cray stayed behind, pretending +he did not belong to us, and he heard a man say, 'Perhaps the +gentleman's a parson; that sort always think they ought to be +_moralising_ about something or other.' And he found out by their talk +that the old lady was a clearstarcher, so when she was alone again we +went back. Val said he should be some time at Brighton, and he gave her +his address and offered her his washing. She asked for his name, too, +and he replied--you know how grave Val is--'Well, ma'am, I'm sorry to +say I cannot oblige you with my name, because I don't know it. All I am +sure about is, that it begins with an M; but I've written up to London, +and I shall know for a certainty the week after next.' So she winked at +me, and tapped herself on the forehead. Val is very much vexed because +he came up to London about the will, and the lawyers say he cannot--or +somebody else, I don't know which--cannot administer it unless he takes +the name of Melcombe. So what he said was quite true, and afterwards we +heard the old lady telling her friends that he was demented, but he +seemed very harmless and good. + +"It's an extraordinary thing, isn't it, that Val has turned out to be +rich. Please thank father for writing and telling me about it all. Val +doesn't seem to care, and he hates changing his name. He was quite +crusty when we congratulated him. + +"Give my love to the kids, and tell them if they don't weed my garden +they will catch it when I come home. + +"I remain, your deservedly revered brother, + +"A.J.M." + +A postscript followed, from Crayshaw:-- + +"What this fellow says is quite right, our letters are worth three of +yours. You never once mentioned my guinea-pigs in your last, and we +don't care whether there is a baby at Wigfield or not. Pretty, is he? I +know better, they are all ugly. Fanny Crayshaw has just got another. I +detest babies; but George thinks (indeed many parents do) that the +youngest infant is just as much a human being as he is himself, even +when it is squalling, in fact more so." + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +DANTE AND OTHERS. + + + "He climbed the wall of heaven, and saw his love + Safe at her singing; and he left his foes + In vales of shadow weltering, unassoiled, + Immortal sufferers henceforth, in both worlds." + +It was the middle of April. Valentine was gone, and the Mortimer +children were running wild, for their nurse had suddenly departed on +account of the airs of the new lady-housekeeper, who, moreover, had +quarrelled with the new governess. + +John was now without doubt Mr. Mortimer, the head of his family and all +alone of his name, for Valentine had been obliged to take the name of +Melcombe, and, rather to the surprise of his family, had no sooner got +things a little settled than he had started across the Continent to meet +Mrs. Peter Melcombe, and bring her home to England. + +Mr. Mortimer still felt his father's death, and he regretted Valentine's +absence more than he cared to confess. He lost his temper rather often, +at that particular season, for he did not know where to turn. The +housekeeper and the governess insisted frequently on appealing to him +against each other, about all sorts of matters that he knew nothing of, +and the children took advantage of their feuds to do precisely as they +pleased. John's house, though it showed evidently enough that it was a +rich man's abode, had a comfortable homeliness about it, but it had +always been a costly house to keep, and now that it was less than ever +needful to him to save money, he did not want to hear recriminations +concerning such petty matters as the too frequent tuning of the +schoolroom piano, and the unprofitable fabrics which had been bought for +the children's dresses. + +In less than two years Parliament would dissolve. It was now frequently +said that Mr. Mortimer was to stand for the borough of Wigfield; but how +this was compatible with the present state of his household he did not +know. + +"I suppose," he said to himself one morning, with a mighty sigh, "I +suppose there is only one way out of it all. I really must take a liking +to red hair. Well! not just yet." + +It was about ten o'clock in the morning when he said this, and he was +setting out to walk across the fields, and call for the first time on +Mrs. Frederic Walker. He was taking his three younger children with him +to make an apology to her. + +Now that Mrs. Walker was a widow, she and Mr. Mortimer had half +unconsciously changed their manner slightly towards each other; they +were just as friendly as before, but not so familiar; the children, +however, were very intimate with her. + +"She didn't want that bit of garden," argued little Hugh, as one who +felt aggrieved; "and when she saw that we had taken it she only +laughed." + +The fact was, that finding a small piece of waste ground at the back of +Mrs. Walker's shrubbery, the children had dug it over, divided it with +oyster-shells into four portions, planted it with bulbs and roots, and +in their own opinion it was now theirs. They came rather frequently to +dig in it. Sometimes on these occasions they went in-doors to see "Mrs. +Nemily," and perhaps partake of bread and jam. Once they came in to +complain of her gardener, who had been weeding in _their_ gardens. They +wished her to forbid this. Emily laughed, and said she would. + +Their course of honest industry was, however, discovered at last by the +twins; and now they were to give up the gardens, which seemed a sad +pity, just when they had been intending to put in spring crops. + +Some people never really _have_ anything. It is not only that they can +get no good out of things (that is common even among those who are able +both to have and to hold), but that they don't know how to reign over +their possessions and appropriate them. + +Their chattels appear to know this, and despise them; their dogs run +after other men; the best branches of their rose-trees climb over the +garden-wall, and people who smell at the flowers there appear to supply +a reason for any roses being planted inside. Such people always know +their weak point, and spend their own money as if they had stolen it. + +The little Mortimers were not related to them. Here was a piece of +ground which nobody cultivated; it manifestly wanted owners; they took +it, weeded it, and flung out all the weeds into Mrs. Walker's garden. + +The morning was warm; a south wind was fluttering the half-unfolded +leaf-buds, and spreading abroad the soft odour of violets and primroses +which covered the sunny slopes. + +John's children, when they came in at Mrs. Walker's drawing-room window, +brought some of this delicate fragrance of the spring upon their hair +and clothes. Grown-up people are not in the habit of rolling about, or +tumbling down over beds of flowers. They must take the consequences, and +leave the ambrosial scents of the wood behind them. + +John himself, who had not been prepared to see them run off from him at +the last moment, beheld their active little legs disappearing as they +got over the low ledge of the open window. He, however, did not follow +their example, but walked round to the front of the house, and was shown +into the drawing-room, after ringing the bell, Emily lifting up her +head at his entrance with evident surprise. He was surprised too, even +startled, for on a sofa opposite to her sat a lady whom he had been +thinking of a good deal during the previous month--her of the golden +head, Miss Justina Fairbairn. It was evident that the children had not +announced his intended call. + +Miss Justina Fairbairn was the daughter of an old K.C.B. deceased. She +and her mother were poor, but they were much respected as sensible, +dignified women; and they had that kind of good opinion of themselves +which those who hold in sincerity (having no doubt or misgiving) can +generally spread among their friends. + +Miss Fairbairn was a fine, tall woman, with something composed and even +motherly in her appearance; her fair and rather wide face had a +satisfied, calm expression, excepting when she chanced to meet John, and +then a flash would come from those cold blue eyes, a certain hope, +doubt, or feeling of suspense would assert itself in spite of her. It +never rose to actual expectation, for she was most reasonable; and John +had never shown her any attention; but she had a sincere conviction that +a marriage with her would be the best and most suitable that was +possible for him. It was almost inconceivable, she thought, that he +could escape the knowledge of this fact long. She was so every way +suitable. She was about thirty-two years of age, and she felt sure he +ought not to marry a younger woman. + +Many people thought as she did, that Mr. Mortimer could not do better +than marry Miss Fairbairn; and it is highly probable that this opinion +had originated with herself, though it must be well understood that she +had not expressed it. Thoughts are certainly able to spread themselves +without the aid of looks or language. Invisible seed that floats from +the parent plant can root itself wherever it settles and thoughts must +have some medium through which they sail till they reach minds that can +take them in, and there they strike root, and whole crops of the same +sort come up, just as if they were indigenous, and naturally belonging +to their entertainers. This is even more true in great matters than in +small. + +Miss Fairbairn, as usual when she saw John, became gracious. John was +thought to be a very intellectual man; she was intellectual, and meant +to be more so. John was specially fond of his children; her talk +concerning children should be both wise and kind. + +Real love of children and childhood is, however, a quality that no one +can successfully feign. John had occasionally been seen, by observant +matrons and maids, to attempt with a certain uncouth tenderness to do +his children womanly service. He could tie their bonnet-strings and +sashes when these came undone. They had been known to apply to him +during a walk to take stones out of their boots, and also to lace these +up again. + +Why should we write of children as if they were just like grown-up +people? They are not in the least like, any more than they are like one +another; but here they are, and if we can neither love nor understand +them, woe betide us! + +"No more crying, my dear," John had said that morning to his youngest +daughter. + +He had just administered a reproof to her as he sat at breakfast, for +some infantile delinquency; and she, sniffing and sobbing piteously, +testified a desire to kiss him in token of penitence. + +"I'm good now," she remarked. + +"Where's your pocket-handkerchief?" said her father, with magisterial +dignity. + +The infant replied that she had lost it, and straightway asked to borrow +his. + +John lent the article, and having made use of it, she pushed it back +with all good faith into his breast-pocket, and repeating, "I'm good +now," received the coveted kiss, and presently after a donation of +buttered toast, upon which she became as happy as ever. + +In ordinary life it devolves on the mother to lend a handkerchief; but +if children have none, there are fathers who can rise to such occasions, +and not feel afterwards as if heroic sacrifices had been demanded of +them. + +John Mortimer felt that Miss Fairbairn had never before greeted him with +so much _empressement_. They sat down, and she immediately began to talk +to him. A flattering hope that he had known of her presence, and had +come at once to see her, gave her just the degree of excitement that she +wanted to enable her to produce her thoughts at their best; while he, +accustomed by experience to caution, and not ready yet to commit +himself, longed to remark that he had been surprised as well as pleased +to see her. But he found no opportunity at first to do it; and in the +meantime Emily sat and looked on, and listened to their conversation +with an air of easy _insouciance_ very natural and becoming to her. +Emily was seven-and-twenty, and had always been accustomed to defer to +Miss Fairbairn as much older as well as wiser than herself; and this +deference did not seem out of place, for the large, fair spinster made +the young matron look slender and girlish. + +John Mortimer remembered how Emily had said a year ago that he could not +do better than marry Justina. He thought she had invited her there to +that end; and as he talked he took care to express to her by looks his +good-humoured defiance; whereupon she defended herself with her eyes, +and punished him by saying-- + +"I thought you would come to-day perhaps and see my little house. Do you +like it, John? I have been in it less than three months, and I am +already quite attached to it. Miss Fairbairn only came last night, and +she is delighted with it." + +"Yes," said Justina, "I only came last night;" and an air of +irrepressible satisfaction spread itself over her face--that Mr. Mortimer +should have walked over to see her this very first morning was beyond +her utmost hopes. She had caused Emily to invite her at that particular +time that she might often see John; and here he was. + +"Emily thinks it a pointed thing, my coming at once," he cogitated. "She +reminds me, too, that friendship for her did not bring me. Well, I was +too much out of spirits to come a month ago." + +Emily's eyes flashed and softened when she saw him out of countenance, +and a little twist came in her lips where a smile would like to have +broken through. She was still in crape, and wore the delicate gossamer +of her widow's cap, with long, wing-like streamers falling away at her +back; and while she sat at work on a cumbersome knitted shawl she +listened with an air of docility to Justina's conversation, without +noticing that a touch of dismay was beginning to show itself in John's +face; for Miss Fairbairn had begun to speak of Italian literature, a +subject she had been getting up lately for certain good reasons of her +own. She dared to talk about Dante, and John was almost at once keenly +aware that all this learning was sham--it was the outcome of no real +taste; and he felt like a fool while one of the ladies did the wooing +and the other, as he thought, amused herself with watching it. He was +accustomed to be wooed, and to be watched, but he had been trying for +some time to bring his mind to like the present wooer. While away from +her he fancied that he had begun to succeed, and now he knew well that +this sort of talk would drive him wild in a week. It represented nothing +real. No; the thing would not do. She was a good woman; she would have +ruled his house well; she would have been just to his children; and if +he had established her in all comfort and elegance over his family, he +might have left her, and attended to those prospective Parliamentary +duties as long as he liked, without annoying her. She was a lady too, +and her mother, old Lady Fairbairn, was a pleasant and unexceptionable +woman. But she was making herself ridiculous now. No; it would not do. + +Giving her up then and there, he suddenly started from his seat as if he +felt relieved, and drawing himself to his full height, looked down on +the two ladies, one of whom, lifting her golden head, continued the +wooing with her eyes, while the other said carelessly and with a +dispassionate air-- + +"Well, I cannot think how you or John or any one can like that +bitter-hearted, odious, cruel Dante." + +"Emily," exclaimed Miss Fairbairn, "how can you be so absurd, dear?" + +"I wonder they did not tear him into little bits," continued Emily +audaciously, "instead of merely banishing him, which was all they +did--wasn't it, John?" + +"I cannot imagine what you mean," exclaimed Miss Fairbairn, while John +laughed, and felt that at least here was something real and natural. + +"You cannot? That's because you don't consider, then, what we should +feel if somebody now were to write a grand poem about our fathers, +mothers, aunts, uncles, and dear friends deceased, setting forth how he +had seen them all in the nether regions; how he had received their +confidences, and how penitent most of them were. Persecuted, indeed! and +misunderstood! I consider that his was the deadliest revenge any man +ever took upon his enemies." + +Miss Fairbairn's brow, on hearing this, contracted with pain; for John +laughed again, and turning slightly towards Emily as he stood leaning +against the window-frame, took the opportunity to get away from the +subject of Italian literature, and ask her some question about her +knitting. + +"It must be something to give away, I am sure. You are always giving." + +"But you know, John," she answered, as if excusing herself, "we are not +at all sure that we shall have any possessions, anything of our own, in +the future life--anything, consequently, to give away. Perhaps it will +all belong to all. So let us have enough of giving while we can, and +enjoy the best part of possession." + +"Dear Emily," said Miss Fairbairn kindly, "you should not indulge in +these unauthorised fancies." + +"But it so chances that this is not for a poor person," observed Emily, +"but for dear Aunt Christie." + +"Ah, she was always very well while she lived with me," said John; "but +I hear a very different account of her now." + +"Yes; she has rheumatism in her foot; so that she is obliged to sit +up-stairs. John, you should go and see her." + +"I will take Mr. Mortimer to her," said Justina, rising serenely. This +she thought would break off the conversation, in which she had no part. + +So John went up to Miss Christie's little sitting-room, and there she +was, bolt upright, with her lame foot on a cushion. By this visit he +gave unmixed pleasure to the old lady, and afforded opportunity to the +younger one for some pleasant, reasonable speeches, and for a little +effective waiting on the invalid, as well as for some covert +compliments. + +"Ay, John Mortimer," quoth Miss Christie, with an audacious twinkle in +her eyes, "I'm no that clear that I don't deserve all the pain I've got +for my sins against ye." + +"Against me!" exclaimed John, amazed. + +"Some very bad advice I gave ye, John," she continued, while Miss +Fairbairn, a little surprised, looked on. + +"Make your mind easy," John answered with mock gravity, for he knew +well enough what she meant. "I never follow bad advice. I promise not to +follow yours." + +"What was your advice, dear?" asked Miss Fairbairn sweetly, her golden +head within a yard of John's as she stooped forward. "I wonder you +should have ventured to give advice to such a man as Mr. Mortimer. +People always seem to think that in any matter of consequence they are +lucky if they can get advice from him." + +John drew a long breath, and experienced a strong sense of compunction; +but Miss Christie was merely relieved, and she began to talk with deep +interest about the new governess and the new housekeeper. + +Miss Fairbairn brought John down again as soon as she could, and took +the opportunity to engage his attention on the stairs, by asking him a +question on some political subject that really interested him; and he, +like a straightforward man, falling into the trap, began to give her his +views respecting it. + +But as he opened the drawing-room door for her, his three children, who +all this time had been in the garden, came running in at the window, and +before he and Miss Fairbairn were seated, his two little boys, treading +on Mrs. Walker's crape, were thrusting some large handfuls of flowers +almost into her face, while Anastasia emptied a lapful on to her knees. +Emily accepted them graciously. + +"And so," little Hugh exclaimed, "as father said we were not to have the +gardens, we thought we had better gather all the flowers, because _they_ +are our own, you know," he proceeded; "for we bought most of the bulbs +with our own money; and they're all for you." + +Hyacinths, narcissus, wallflowers, polyanthus, they continued to be held +up for her inspection. + +"And you'll let us put them in water ourselves, won't you?" said +Bertram. + +"Yes, she will, Bertie," cried Hugh. + +"Don't tread on Mrs. Walker's dress," John began, and the sprites, as +if in ready obedience, were off in an instant; but in reality they were +gone to find vases for the flowers, Emily looking up with all composure, +though a good deal of scrambling and arguing were heard through the open +door. + +"We found these in the pantry," exclaimed the two little boys, +returning, each with a dish in his hand. "Nancy wanted to get some +water, but we wouldn't let her." + +"Come here," exclaimed John with gravity; "come here, and shut the door. +Emily, I brought these imps on purpose to apologize for their high +misdemeanours." + +Thereupon the two little boys blushed and hung their heads. It was +nothing to have taken the garden, but it daunted them to have to +acknowledge the fault. Before they had said a word, however, a shrill +little voice cried out behind them-- + +"But I can't do my _apologize_ yet, father, because I've got a pin in my +cape, and it pricks, and somebody must take it out." + +"I cannot get the least pretence of penitence out of any one of them," +exclaimed John, unable to forbear laughing. "I must make the apology +myself, Emily. I am very much afraid that these gardens were taken +without leave; they were not given at all." + +"I have heard you say more than once," answered Emily, with an easy +smile, "that it is the privilege of the giver to forget. I never had a +very good memory." + +"But they confessed themselves that they _took_ them." + +"Well, John, then if you said they were to apologize," answered Emily, +giving them just the shadow of a smile, "of course they must;" and so +they did, the little boys with hot blushes and flashing eyes, the little +girl with innocent unconsciousness of shame. Then "Mrs. Nemily" rather +spoilt the dignity of the occasion by taking her up and kissing her; +upon which the child inquired in a loud whisper-- + +"But now we've done our _apologize_, we may keep our gardens, mayn't +we?" + +At this neither she nor John could help laughing. + +"You may, if papa has no objection," said Emily, suddenly aware of a +certain set look about Miss Fairbairn's lips, and a glance of reproof, +almost of anguish, from her stern blue eye. + +Miss Fairbairn had that morning tasted the sweetness of hope, and she +now experienced a sharp pang of jealousy when she saw the children +hanging about Emily with familiar friendliness, treading on her tucks, +whispering confidences in her ears, and putting their flowers on the +clean chintz of her ottomans. These things Justina would have found +intolerable if done to herself, unless in their father's presence. Even +then she would have only welcomed them for the sake of diverting them +from Emily. + +She felt sure that at first all had been as she hoped, and as it ought +to be; and she could not refrain from darting a glance of reproof at +Emily. She even felt as if it was wrong of John to be thus beguiled into +turning away when he ought to have been cultivating his acquaintance +with her mind and character. It was still more wrong of Emily to be +attracting his notice and drawing him away from his true place, his +interest, and now almost his duty. + +Emily, with instant docility, put the little Anastasia down and took up +her knitting, while Miss Fairbairn, suddenly feigning a great interest +in horticulture, asked after John's old gardener, who she heard had just +taken another prize. + +"The old man is very well," said John, "and if you and Mrs. Walker would +come over some morning, I am sure he would be proud to show you the +flowers." + +Miss Fairbairn instantly accepted the proposal. + +"I always took an interest in that old man," she observed; "he is so +original." + +"Yes, he is," said John. + +"But at what time of day are you generally at home," she continued, not +observing, or perhaps not intending to observe that the flowers could +have been shown during their owner's absence. "At luncheon time, or at +what time?" + +John, thus appealed to, paused an instant; he had never thought of +coming home to entertain the ladies, but he could not be inhospitable, +and he concluded that the mistake was real. "At luncheon time," he +presently said, and named a day when he would be at home, being very +careful to address the invitation to Mrs. Walker. + +He then retired with his children, who were now in very good spirits; +they gave their hands to Justina, who would have liked to kiss them, but +the sprites skipped away in their father's wake, and while he walked +home, lost in thought on grave and serious things, they broke in every +now and then with their childish speculations on life and manners. + +"Swanny must put on his Sunday coat when they come, and his orange +handkerchief that Janie hemmed for him because Mrs. Swan's fingers are +all crumpled up," said the little girl. + +"Father, what's a Methodist?" asked Hugh. + +Before John could answer little Bertram informed his brother, "It is a +thing about not going to church. It has nothing to do with her fingers +being crumpled up, that's rheumatism." + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +SELF-WONDER AND SELF-SCORN. + + + "Something there is moves me to love, and I + Do know I love, but know not how, nor why." + + A. BROME. + +As John and his children withdrew together through the garden, Justina +Fairbairn sat with her work on her knees, watching them. + +"Mr. Mortimer is six-and-thirty, is he not?" she asked. + +"Yes," answered Emily. + +"How much he improves in appearance!" she observed; "he used not to be +thought handsome when he was very young--he is both handsome and stately +now." + +"It is the way with the Mortimers, I think," said Emily. "I should not +wonder if in ten years' time Val is just as majestic as the old men used +to be, though he has no dignity at all about him now." + +"Yes, majesty is the right word," said Justina serenely. "Mr. Mortimer +has a finer presence, a finer carriage than formerly; it may be partly +because he is not so very thin as he used to be." + +"Perhaps so," said Emily. + +"And this was his first call," continued Justina, obliged to make +openings for herself through which to push what she had to say. "I +suppose, dear, you could hardly fail to notice how matters were going. +This calling at once, and his bringing the children too; and his wish +to find out my opinions, and tell me his own on various subjects." + +Silence on the part of the hostess. + +"I could almost have wished, dear Emily, that you had not----" + +She paused. "Had not what?" asked Emily. + +Miss Fairbairn remembered that she was Mrs. Walker's guest, and that it +behoved her not to offend her hostess, because she wanted to stay in +that house as long as possible. She would like to have finished her +speech thus: "that you had not engrossed the children so completely;" +but she said instead, with a little smile meant to look conscious, "I +believe I meant, dear, that I should have been very glad to talk to the +children myself." + +She felt that this reply fell rather flat, but she knew that Emily must +immediately be made aware of what she now hoped was really the state of +the case, and must also be made to help her. + +No surprise was expressed, but Mrs. Walker did not make any reply +whatever, so she continued,-- + +"You look surprised, dear, but surely what I have hinted at cannot be a +new thought to you," and as it did not suit her to drop the subject yet, +she proceeded. "No, I see by your smile that it is not. I confess I +should have liked to talk to them, for," she added, with a sigh of +contentment, "the task, I see very plainly before me, is always a +difficult one to undertake." + +Still Emily was silent; she seemed lost in thought; indeed, she was +considering among other things that it was little more than a year since +she and John had discussed Justina together; was there, could there +really be, anything between them now? + +Justina watched her, and wished she could know what effect these hints +had taken. Emily had always behaved in such a high-minded, noble way to +her lovers, and been so generous to other women, that Justina depended +on her now. The lower nature paid homage to the higher, even to the +point of believing in a sense of honour quite alien to its own +experience. There was not the least reason to suppose that Emily cared +about John Mortimer, but she wanted her to stand aside lest he should +take it into his head to begin to care for her. So many men had been +infatuated about Emily, but Emily had never wished to rob another woman +for the mere vanity of spoliation, and Justina's opinion of her actually +was that if she could be made to believe that she, Justina, had any +rights in John Mortimer, she would not stand in her light, even though +she might have begun to think highly of his house, and his position, as +advantageous for herself. Love she did not take into her consideration, +she neither felt that nor imputed it to others. + +She was thoroughly mean herself, but if Emily had done anything mean, it +would positively have shaken her faith and trust in Goodness itself. It +would actually have been bad for her, and there is no saying how much +lower she might have declined, if one of the few persons she believed in +had made a descent. + +Though she thought thus of Emily, she had notwithstanding felt towards +her a kind of serene superiority, as might be felt towards one who could +only look straight before her, by one who could see round a corner; but +that morning, for the first time, she had begun to fear her, to +acknowledge a certain charm in her careless, but by no means ungracious +indifference; in her sweet, natural ways with John's children, and in +those dark lashes which clouded her soft grey eyes. + +The contradictions in her face were dangerous; there was a wistful +yearning in her smile; joyous as her laugh sounded, she often put a stop +to its sudden sweetness with a sigh. + +Justina felt Emily's silence very oppressive, and while it lasted she +fully expected that it would be broken at last by some important words. + +Emily might tell her that she must be deceiving herself, and might be +able to give such decisive proof of the fact as would oblige her to give +up this new hope. That was what Justina feared. On the other hand, she +might show her ignorance and lighten Justina's heart by merely asking +her whether she thought she could love and bear with another woman's +children. She might even ask whether John Mortimer had made his +intentions plain. + +But no, when Emily did speak, she appeared completely to ignore these +hints, though her face retained its air of wonder and cogitation. + +"By-the-bye, Justina," she said, "you put me a little out of countenance +just now. John Mortimer never meant to ask us to luncheon; I know he +seldom or ever comes home in the middle of the day." + +"Are you sure of that?" said Justina. + +"Quite sure; you invited yourself." + +"Did I make a mistake? Well, if he did not at first intend it, he +certainly caught at the notion afterwards." + +"Do you think so? I thought, on the contrary, that he spent some moments +in considering what day he could spare to come and receive us." + +"Perhaps it is just as well," answered Justina; "I should have felt very +awkward going about his house and garden in his absence." + +"Justina," said Emily, driven at last to front the question, "how much +do you wish me to understand?" + +"Nothing at all, dear, but what you see," she replied, without lifting +her head from her work; then she added, "Do those children come here +often?" + +"Two or three times a week, I think," answered Emily, with a degree of +carelessness that attracted Miss Fairbairn's attention. She had appeared +more than commonly indifferent that morning, she had hardly responded to +the loving caresses of John's children, but this had seemed to signify +nothing, they came and hung about her just the same. + +"They had taken those gardens some time before I found it out," she +continued. "They run through the copses and through those three or four +fields that belong to John, and get into my garden over the +stepping-stones in the brook." + +"They must feel very sure of their welcome," said Justina, rather +pointedly. + +"Yes," answered Emily, also rather pointedly; "but I have never invited +them to come, never once; there is, as you see, no occasion." + +Holding her graceful head a little higher than usual, she folded up her +now finished shawl, ran up-stairs with it to Miss Christie's room, and +was conscious almost at once (or she fancied so) that her old aunt +looked at her with a certain air of scrutiny, not unmixed with +amusement. She was relieved when she had put on her gift to hear Miss +Christie say, "Well, ye'll be glad to know that I feel more at my ease +now than I've done for some time." + +There had been such an air of triumph in Miss Christie's glance that +Emily was pleased to find she was only exultant on account of her +health. She expressed her gladness, and assured the old lady she would +soon be as active as ever. + +"It's no my foot I'm thinking of," answered Miss Christie, "but some bad +advice that weighed on my mind--bad advice that I've given to John +Mortimer." Thereupon she related the conversation in which she had +recommended Miss Fairbairn to him. + +Emily sat very still--so still, that she hardly seemed to breathe, then, +looking up, she said, perhaps rather more calmly and quietly than was +her wont-- + +"Several people have thought it would be a good thing for John to marry +Justina Fairbairn." + +"And I was one of them," quoth Miss Christie, her eyes sparkling with +joy and malice, "but I've thought lately that I was just mistaken," and +she presently related what had passed between her and John that +morning. + +Emily's fair cheek took a slight blush-rose tint. If she felt relieved, +this did not appear; perhaps she thought, "Under like circumstances John +would speak just so of me." The old lady had been silent some moments +before Emily answered, and when she did speak she said-- + +"What! you and John actually joked about poor Justina in her presence, +auntie?" + +"Did I see him in her absence?" inquired Miss Christie, excusing +herself. "I tell ye, child, I've changed my mind. John Mortimer's a +world too good for her. Aye, but he looked grand this morning." + +"Yes," answered Emily, "but it is a pity he thinks all the women are in +love with him!" Then, feeling that she had been unjust, she corrected +herself, "No, I mean that he is so keenly aware how many women there are +in the neighbourhood who would gladly marry him." + +"Aware!" quoth Miss Christie, instantly taking his part. "Aware, indeed! +Can he ever go out, or stop at home, that somebody doesn't try to make +him aware! Small blame to them," she added with a laugh, "few men can +hold their heads higher, either moreally or pheesically, and he has his +pockets full of money besides." + +Emily got away from Miss Christie as soon as she could, put on her +bonnet, and went into the garden. + +The air was soft, and almost oppressively mild, for the bracing east +wind was gone, and a tender wooing zephyr was fluttering among the +crumbled leaves, and helping them to their expansion. Before she knew +what instinct had taken her there, she found herself standing by the +four little gardens, listening to the cheerful dance of the water among +the stepping-stones, and looking at the small footsteps of the children, +which were printed all over their property. + +Yes, there was no mistake about that, her empty heart had taken them in +with no thought and no fear of anything that might follow. + +Only the other day and her thoughts had been as free as air, there was a +sorrowful shadow lying behind her; when she chose, she looked back into +it, recalled the confiding trust, and marital pride, and instinctive +courage of her late husband, and was sufficiently mistress of her past +to muse no more on his unopened mind, and petty ambitions, and small +range, of thought. He was gone to heaven, he could see farther now, and +as for these matters, she had hidden them; they were shut down into +night and oblivion, with the dust of what had once been a faithful +heart. + +Fred Walker had been as one short-sighted, who only sees things close at +hand, but sees them clearly. + +Emily was very long-sighted, but in a vast range of vision are +comprehended many things that the keenest eyes cannot wholly define, and +some that are confused with their own shadows. + +Things near she saw as plainly as he had done, but the wondrous wide +distance drew her now and again away from these. The life of to-day +would sometimes spend itself in gazing over the life in her whole day. +Her life, as she felt it, yearning and passioning, would appear to +overflow the little cup of its separation, or take reflections from +other lives, till it was hardly all itself, so much as a small part of +the great whole, God's immortal child, the wonderful race of mankind, +held in the hand of its fashioner, and conscious of some yearning, the +ancient yearning towards its source. + +Emily moved slowly home again, and felt rather sensitive about the +proposed luncheon at John Mortimer's house. She wished she had managed +to spare him from being obliged to give the invitation. She even +considered whether Justina could be induced to go alone. But there was +no engagement that could be pleaded as a reason for absenting herself. +What must be done was before they went, to try, without giving needless +pain, to place the matter in a truer light. This would only be fair to +poor Justina. + +Emily scarcely confessed to her own heart that she was glad of what Miss +Christie had said. She was not, from any thought that it could make the +least difference to herself, but, upon reflection, she felt ashamed of +how John Mortimer had been wooed, and of how he had betrayed by his +smile that he knew it. + +That day was a Tuesday, the luncheon was to take place on Saturday, but +on Friday afternoon Emily had not found courage or occasion to speak to +her friend. The more she thought about it, the more difficult and +ungracious the matter seemed. + +Such was the state of things. Miss Christie was still up-stairs, Justina +was seated at work in the drawing-room, and Emily, arrayed in a lilac +print apron, was planting some fresh ferns in her _jardiniere_ when the +door was opened, and the servant announced Mr. Mortimer. Emily was +finishing her horticulture, and was not at all the kind of person to be +put out of countenance on being discovered at any occupation that it +suited her fancy to be engaged in. She, however, blushed beautifully, +just as any other woman might have done, on being discovered in her +drawing-room so arrayed, and her hands acquainted with peat. + +She presently left the room. John knew she was gone to wash her hands, +and hoped she would not stay away long. "For it won't do, my lady," he +thought, "however long you leave me. I will not make an offer to the +present candidate, that I am determined!" + +In the meantime Justina, wishing to say something of Emily that would +sound amiable, and yet help her own cause, remarked pleasantly-- + +"Emily is a dear, careless creature--just like what she was as a girl" +(careless creatures, by the bye, are not at all suited to be +stepmothers). + +"Yes," answered John, in an abstracted tone, and as if he was not +considering Mrs. Walker's mental characteristics, which was the case, +for he was merely occupied in wishing she would return. + +"But she wishes to look well, notwithstanding," continued Justina, as if +excusing her, "so no wonder she goes to divest herself of her +housemaid's apron." + +"Ah," said John, who was no great observer of apparel, "I thought she +was not dressed as usual;" but he added, "she is so graceful, that in +any array she cannot fail to look well." + +Justina looked up feeling hurt, and also a little surprised. Here she +was, alone with John Mortimer for the first time in her life, and he was +entertaining her with the praise of another woman; but she had a great +deal of self-command, and she began almost at once to ask him some +questions about his children. She had a most excellent governess to +recommend, and was it not true that they wanted a nurse also? Yes, Mr. +Mortimer did want both, and, as Justina had been writing to every friend +she had about these functionaries, and had heard of several, she +mentioned in each case the one she thought most suitable, and John, much +pleased at the happy chance which brought such treasures before him, was +deep in conversation about them when Emily reappeared, and then, to +Justina's great annoyance, he took down two addresses, and broke off the +conversation with her instantly to say-- + +"Emily, I am come to make the humblest apologies possible. I find that I +am absolutely obliged to go to London to-morrow on a matter that cannot +be postponed." + +Justina was greatly mortified, but she answered instantly, and not +Emily-- + +"Ah, then of course you are come to put us off, Mr. Mortimer?" + +There was no undue stress on the words "put us off," but they suggested +an idea to John that was new to him, and he would have felt called upon +to act upon them, and renew the invitation, if Emily had not answered +just as if she had heard not a syllable. + +"We shall be sorry to miss you, John, when we come, but no doubt the +children will be at home, and the girls." + +"Yes," said John, slipping into this arrangement so easily, that how +little he cared about her visit ought to have been at once made plain to +Justina. "Oh yes, and they will be so proud to entertain you. I hope you +will honour them, as was intended, by coming to lunch." + +"Yes, to be sure," Emily answered with readiness. "I hope the auriculas +will not have begun to fade, they are Miss Fairbairn's favourite +flower." + +Then, to the intense mortification of Justina, John changed the subject, +as if it had been one of no moment to him. "I have been over to +Wigfield-house this afternoon to pay my respects to Mrs. Brandon and her +boy." + +"You found them well, I know, for we were there this morning." + +"Perfectly well," said John, and he laughed. "Giles was marching about +in the garden with that astonishing infant lying flat on his arm, and +with its long robes dangling down. Dorothea (come out, I was told, for +the first time) was walking beside him, and looking like a girl of +sixteen. I believe when I approached they were discussing to what +calling in life they would bring up the youngster. I was desired to +remark his uncommon likeness to his father; told that he was considered +a very fine child, and I should have had the privilege of looking at his +little downy black head, but his mother decided not to accord it, lest +he should take cold." + +"And so you laugh at her maternal folly," said Justina smiling, but not +displeased at what sounded like disparagement of an attractive young +woman. + +"I laugh at it?--yes! but as a man who feels that it is the one lovely +folly of the world. Who could bear to think of all that childhood +demands of womanhood, if he did not bear in mind the sweet delusive +glamour that washes every woman's eyes ere she catches sight of the +small mortal sent to be her charge." + +Then Justina, who had found a few moments for recovering herself and +deciding how to act, took the conversation again into her own hands, and +very soon, in spite of Emily, who did not dare to interfere again, John +Mortimer was brought quite naturally and inevitably to add to the desire +that they would the next day visit his children, an invitation to +luncheon after he should have returned. + +Justina accepted. + +"But it must not be this day week," she observed with quiet complacency, +"for that is to be the baby's christening day, and I am asked to be his +godmother." + +Emily could not forbear to look up; John's face was quite a study. He +had just been asked to stand for the child, had consented, and whom he +might have for companions he had not thought of asking. + +"It will be the first anniversary of their wedding," said Emily by way +of saying something, for John's silence began to be awkward. + +Mrs. Brandon, having been charmed with the sensible serenity of Miss +Fairbairn's conversation, and with the candour and straightforwardness +that distinguished her, had cultivated her acquaintance with assiduity, +and was at that moment thinking how fortunate she was in her baby's +sponsors. + +When Justina found that John Mortimer was to be present at this +christening, and in such a capacity too, she accomplished the best blush +her cheek had worn for years. It was almost like an utterance, so +completely did it make her feelings known. As for John, he had very +seldom in his life looked as foolish as he did then. + +Why had he been asked together with Miss Fairbairn? Whatever he might +have thought concerning her, his thought was his own; he had never made +it manifest by paying her the least attention. He did not like her now +so well as he might have done, if he had not tried and failed to make +himself like her more. She was almost the only woman now concerning whom +he felt strongly that she would not do for him. Surely people did not +think he had any intentions towards her. He sat silent and discomfited +till Emily, again quite aware of his feelings, and sure he wanted to go, +made the opportunity for him, helped him to take advantage of it, and +received a somewhat significant smile of thanks as he departed. + +"Emily," exclaimed Justina, as soon as the door was shut, "what can you +be thinking of? You almost dismissed Mr. Mortimer! Surely, surely you +cannot wish to prevent his coming here to see me." + +Justina spoke with a displeasure that she hardly cared to moderate. +Emily stood listening till she was sure John Mortimer had left her +house, then she said something that was meant to serve for an answer, +got away as soon as she could, ran up-stairs, hurried to her own room, +and locked the door. + +"Not alone!" was her first startled thought, but it was so +instantaneously corrected that it had scarcely time to shape itself into +words. The large cheval glass had been moved by her own orders, and as +she stood just within the door, it sent back her image to her, reflected +from head to foot. + +She advanced gazing at herself, at the rich folds of her black silk gown +made heavy with crape, and at the frail gossamer she carried on her +head, and which, as she came on, let its long appendages float out like +pennons in her wake. Emily had such a high, almost fantastic notion of +feminine dignity (fantastic because it left too much out of view that +woman also is a human creature), that till this day it might almost have +been said she had not taken even her own self into her confidence. She +hardly believed it, and it seems a pity to tell. + +Her eyes flashed with anger, while she advanced, as if they would defy +the fair widow coming on in those seemly weeds. + +"How dare you blush?" she cried out almost aloud. "Only a year and a +fortnight ago kneeling by his coffin--how dare you blush? I scorn you!" + +She put her hands to her throat, conscious of that nervous rising which +some people call a ball in it; then she sat down full in view of +herself, and felt as if she should choke. She was so new to the powerful +fetters that had hold of her, were dragging her on, frightening her, +subduing her. + +Was she never to do or to be any more what she chose--never to know the +rest and sweetness of forgetting even for a little while? Why must she +be mastered by a voice that did not care at all whether its cadence and +its fall were marked by her or not? Why must she tremble and falter even +in her prayer, if a foot came up the aisle that she could not bear to +miss, and yet that was treading down, and doomed, if this went on, to +tread down all reviving joy, and every springtide flower that was +budding in her heart? + +"No more to be kept back than the rising of the tide"--these were her +words--"but, oh, not foreseen as that is, and not to go down any more." + +She almost raged against herself. How could she have come there--how +could she, why had she never considered what might occur? Then she shed +a few passionate tears. "Is it really true, Justina Fairbairn's would-be +rival? And neither of us has the slightest chance in the world. Oh, oh, +if anything--anything that ever was or could be, was able to work a +cure, it would be what I have seen twice this week. It would be to watch +another woman making a fool of herself to win his favour, and to see him +smile and know it. Oh, this is too miserable, far too humiliating. The +other day, when he came, I cared so little; to-day I could hardly look +him in the face." + +Then she considered a little longer, and turned impatiently from her +image in the glass. + +"Why, I have known him all my life, and never dreamed of such a thing! +But for that rainy Sunday three weeks ago, I never might have done. Oh, +this must be a mere fancy. While I talked to him I felt that it ought to +be--that it was. Yes, it is." + +Her eyes wandered over the lawn. She could see the edges of those little +gardens. She had looked at them of late more often than was prudent. +"Darlings!" she whispered with such a heartsick sigh, "how keenly I +loved them for the sake of my little lost treasure, before ever I +noticed their beautiful likeness to their father--no, that's a mistake. +I say it is--I mean to break away from it. And even if it was none, +after the lesson I have had to-day, it must and shall be a mistake for +ever." + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THAT RAINY SUNDAY. + + + "He hath put the world in their hearts." + +This is how that had come about which was such a trouble and oppression +to Emily. + +Emily was walking to church on a Sunday morning, just three weeks before +John Mortimer's first call upon her. + +Her little nephew, Dorothea's child, was four days old. He had spent +many of his new-found hours sleeping in her arms, while she cherished +him with a keen and painful love, full of sweet anguish and unsatisfied +memories. + +The tending of this small life, which in some sort was to be a +plenishing for her empty heart, had, however, made her more fully alive +than usual to the loneliness of her lot, and as she walked on through a +fir-wood, in the mild weather, everything seemed also to be more alive, +waking, and going to change. The lights that slanted down were more +significant. The little shaded hollows were more pathetic, but on the +whole it seemed as if the best part of the year was coming on for the +world. It made her heart ache to feel or fancy how glad the world was, +and how the open sky laughed down upon it in helpful sympathy. The old +question presents itself over and over again to be answered,--What is it +that gives us so much joy in looking at earth and air and water? + +We love a landscape, but not merely because remoteness makes blue the +distant hills, as if the sky itself having come down, we could look +through a portion of it, as through a veil. It is not the vague +possibility of what may be shrouded in the blue that stirs our hearts. +We know that if we saw it close it would be set full of villages, and +farmhouses, lanes and orchards, and furrowed fields; no other, and not +fairer than we have near. + +Is it what we impart, or impute to nature from ourselves, that we +chiefly lean upon? or does she truly impart of what is really in her to +us? + +What delight we find in her action, what sentiment in her rest! What +passion we impute to her changes, what apathy of a satisfying calming +sort to her decline! + +If one of us could go to another world, and be all alone in it, perhaps +that world would appear to be washed perfectly clean of all this kind of +beauty, though it might in itself and for itself be far more beautiful +than ours. + +Who has not felt delight in the grand movements of a thunder-storm, when +the heavens and earth come together, and have it out, and seem to feel +the better for it afterwards, as if they had cleared off old scores? The +sight of noble wrath, and vehement action, cannot only nerve the +energetic; they can comfort those obliged to be still. There is so +little these may do, but the elements are up and doing; and they are in +some sort theirs. + +And who does not like to watch the stately white cloud lying becalmed +over the woods, and waiting in a rapture of rest for a wind to come and +float it on? Yet we might not have cared to see the cloud take her rest, +but for the sweetness of rest to ourselves. The plough turned over on +one side under a hedge, while the ploughman rests at noon, might hint to +us what is the key-note of that chord which makes us think the rest of +the cloud so fair. + +If the splendour of some intense passion had never suddenly glorified +the spread-out ether of time in which our spirits float, should we feel +such a strange yearning on looking at a sunset, with its tender +preliminary flush, and then the rapid suffusions of scarlet and growth +of gold? If it is not ourselves that we look at then, it is at one of +the tokens and emblems which claim a likeness with us, a link to hold us +up to the clear space that washes itself so suddenly in an elixir costly +as the golden chances of youth, and the crimson rose of love. With what +a sigh, even youth itself will mark that outpouring of coloured glory! +It whelms the world and overcomes the sky, and then, while none +withstand it, and all is its own, it will change as if wearied, and on a +sudden be over; or with pathetic withdrawal faint slowly away. + +Her apathy, too--her surrender, when she has had everything, and felt +the toil in it, and found the hurry of living. The young seldom perceive +the apathy of nature; eyes that are enlightened by age can often see her +quiet in the autumn, folding up her best things, as they have done, and +getting ready to put them away under the snow. They both expect the +spring. + +Emily was thinking some such thoughts as these while she walked on to +the small country church alone. She went in. This was the first Sunday +after the funeral of old Augustus Mortimer. A glance showed her that +John was at church, sitting among his children. + +The Mortimers were much beloved thereabout. This was not the place where +the old man had worshipped, but a kindly feeling towards his son had +induced the bringing out of such black drapery as the little church +possessed. It was hung round the pulpit, and about the wall at the back +of his pew; and as he sat upright, perfectly still, and with his face +set into a grave, immobile expression, the dark background appeared to +add purity to the fair clear tints of his hair and complexion, and make +every line of his features more distinct. + +And while she looked from time to time at this face, the same thing +occurred to her, as does to us in looking at nature; either she +perceived something she had never known of or looked for before, or she +imparted to his manhood something from the tenderness of her womanhood, +and mourned with him and for him. + +For this was what she saw, that in spite of the children about him (all +in deep mourning), his two tall young daughters and his sweet little +girls and boys, there was a certain air of isolation about him, a sort +of unconsciousness of them all as he towered above them, which gave him +a somewhat desolate effect of being alone. The light striking down upon +his head and the mourning drapery behind him, made every shadow of a +change more evident. She knew how the withdrawal of this old father +weighed on his heart, and his attitude was so unchanging, and his +expression so guarded, that she saw he was keeping watch over his +self-possession, and holding it well in hand. + +All this appeared so evident to her that she was relieved, as the +service went on, to find him still calm and able to command himself, and +keep down any expression of trouble and pain. He began to breathe more +freely too; but Emily felt that he would not meet any eyes that day, and +she looked at him and his children many times. + +In the middle of the sermon a dark cloud came over, and before the +service was finished it poured with rain. Emily was not going back to +her brother's house; she had only the short distance to traverse that +led to her own, and she did not intend to speak to the Mortimers; so she +withdrew into the porch, to wait there till they should have passed out +by the little door they generally used. They scarcely ever had out a +carriage on Sunday, for John preserved many of his father's habits, +without, in all cases, holding the opinions which had led to them. + +That day, however, the servants brought a carriage, and as the little +girls were carried to it under umbrellas they caught sight of Emily, and +to her annoyance, she presently saw John advancing to her. She had +already begun to walk when he met her, and, sheltering her with his +umbrella, proposed to take her home in the carriage; but she declined; +she felt the oppression and sadness of his manner, and knew he did not +want her company. "I would much rather walk," she declared. + +"Would you?" he said, and waved to the men to take the carriage on. +"Well, it is not far;" and he proceeded to conduct her. Indeed there was +nothing else for him to do, for she could not hold up her umbrella. He +gave her his arm, and for two or three minutes the wind and the rain +together made her plenty of occupation; but when they got under the +shelter of the cliff-like rock near her house she felt the silence +oppressive, and thinking that nothing to the purpose, nothing touching +on either his thoughts or her own, would be acceptable, she said, by way +of saying something,-- + +"And so Valentine is gone! Has he written from Melcombe to you, John?" + +"No," John answered, and added, after another short silence, "I feel the +loss of his company; it leaves me the more alone." + +Then, to her surprise, he began at once to speak of this much-loved old +man, and related two or three little evidences of his kindness and +charity that she liked to hear, and that it evidently was a relief to +him to tell. She was just the kind of woman unconsciously to draw forth +confidences, and to reward them. Something poignant in his feeling was +rather set forth than concealed by his sober, self-restrained ways and +quiet words; it suited Emily, and she allowed herself to speak with that +tender reverence of the dead which came very well from her, since she +had loved him living so well. She was rather eloquent when her feelings +were touched, and then she had a sweet and penetrative voice. John liked +to hear her; he recalled her words when he had parted with her at her +own door, and felt that no one else had said anything of his father that +was half so much to his mind. It was nearly four weeks after this that +Emily fully confessed to herself what had occurred. + +The dinner, after John Mortimer withdrew that day and Emily made to +herself this confession, was happily relieved by the company of three or +four neighbours, otherwise the hostess might have been made to feel very +plainly that she had displeased her guest. But the next morning Justina, +having had time to consider that Emily must on no account be annoyed, +came down all serenity and kindliness. She was so attentive to the lame +old aunt, and though the poor lady, being rather in pain, was decidedly +snappish, she did not betray any feeling of disapproval. + +"Ay," said Miss Christie to herself when the two ladies had set off on +their short walk, "yon's not so straightforward and simple as I once +thought her. Only give her a chance, and as sure as death she'll get +hold of John, after all." + +Emily and Justina went across the fields and came to John's garden, over +the wooden bridge that spanned the brook. + +The sunny sloping garden was full of spring flowers. Vines, not yet in +leaf, were trained all over the back of the house, clematis and jasmine, +climbing up them and over them, were pouring themselves down again in +great twisted strands; windows peeped out of ivy, and the old red-tiled +roof, warm and mossy, looked homely and comfortable. A certain air of +old-fashioned, easy comfort pervaded the whole place; large bay windows, +with little roofs of their own, came boldly forth, and commanded a good +view of other windows--ivied windows that retired unaccountably. There +were no right lines. Casements at one end of the house showed in three +tiers, at the other there were but two. The only thing that was +perfectly at ease about itself, and quite clear that it ought to be +seen, was the roof. You could not possibly make a "stuck-up" house, or a +smart villa, or a modern family house of one that had a roof like that. +The late Mrs. Mortimer had wished it could be taken away. She would have +liked the house to be higher and the roof lower. John, on the other +hand, delighted in his roof, and also in his stables, the other +remarkable feature of the place. + +As the visitors advanced, children's voices greeted them; the little +ones were running in and out; they presently met and seized Mrs. Walker, +dancing round her, and leading her in triumph into the hall. Then +Justina observed a good-sized doll, comfortably put to bed on one of the +hall chairs, and tightly tucked up in some manifest pinafores; near it +stood a child's wheel-barrow, half full of picture-books. "I shall not +allow that sort of litter here when I come, as I hope and trust I soon +shall do," thought Justina. "Children's toys are all very well in their +proper places." + +Then Justina, who had never been inside the house before, easily induced +the children to take her from room to room, of those four which were +thoroughfares to one another. Her attentive eyes left nothing unnoticed, +the fine modern water-colour landscapes on the walls of one, the +delicate inlaid cabinets in another. Then a library, with a capital +billiard-table, and lastly John's den. There was something about all +these rooms which seemed to show the absence of a woman. They were not +untidy, but in the drawing-room was John's great microscope, with the +green-shaded apparatus for lighting it; the books also from the library +had been allowed to overflow into it, and encroach upon all the tables. +The dining-room alone was as other people's dining-rooms, but John's +own den was so very far gone in originality and strangeness of litter, +that Justina felt decidedly uneasy when she saw it; it made manifest to +her that her hoped-for spouse was not the manner of man whom she could +expect to understand; books also here had accumulated, and stood in rows +on chairs and tables and shelves; pipes were lying on the stone +chimneypiece, sharing it with certain old and new, beautiful and ugly +bronzes; long papers of genealogies and calculations in John's +handwriting were pinned against the walls; various broken bits of +Etruscan pottery stood on brackets here and there. It seemed to be the +owner's habit to pin his lucubrations about the place, for here was a +vocabulary of strange old Italian words, with their derivations, there a +list of peculiarities and supposed discoveries in an old Norse dialect. + +Emily in the meantime had noticed the absence of the twins; it was not +till lunch was announced, and she went back into the dining-room that +she saw them, and instantly was aware that something was amiss. + +Justina advanced to them first, and the two girls, with a shyness very +unusual with them, gave her their hands, and managed, but not without +difficulty, to escape a kinder salutation. + +And then they both came and kissed Emily, and began to do the honours of +their father's table. There was something very touching to her in that +instinct of good breeding which kept them attentive to Miss Fairbairn, +while a sort of wistful sullenness made the rosy lips pout, and their +soft grey eyes twinkle now and then with half-formed tears. + +Justina exerted herself to please, and Emily sat nearly silent. She saw +very plainly that from some cause or other the girls were looking with +dread and dislike on Justina as a possible step-mother. The little ones +were very joyous, very hospitable and friendly, but nothing could warm +the cold shyness of Gladys and Barbara. They could scarcely eat +anything; they had nothing to say. + +It seemed as if, whatever occurred, Justina was capable of construing it +into a good omen. Somebody must have suggested to these girls that their +father meant to make her his second wife. What if he had done it +himself? Of course, under the circumstances, her intelligence could not +fail to interpret aright those downcast eyes, those reluctant answers, +and the timid, uncertain manner that showed plainly they were afraid of +her. They did not like the notion, of course, of what she hoped was +before them. That was nothing; so, as they would not talk, she began to +devote herself to the younger children, and with them she got on +extremely well. + +Emily's heart yearned with a painful pity that returned upon herself +over the two girls. She saw in what light they regarded the thought of a +stepmother. Her heart ached to think that she had not the remotest +chance of ever standing in such a relation towards them. Yet, in despite +of that, she was full of tender distress when she considered that if +such a blissful possibility could ever draw near, the love of all these +children would melt away. The elder ones would resent her presence, and +teach the younger to read all the writing of her story the wrong way. +They would feel her presence their division from the father whom they +loved. They would brood with just that same sullen love and pouting +tenderness--they would pity, their father just the same, whoever wore +his ring, and reigned over them in his stead. + +Emily, as she hearkened to Justina's wise and kindly talk, so well +considered and suitable for the part she hoped to play--Emily began to +pity John herself. She wanted something so much better for him. She +reflected that she would gladly be the governess there, as she could not +be the wife, if that would save John from throwing himself into +matrimony for his children's sake; and yet had she not thought a year +ago that Justina was quite good enough for him? Ah, well! but she had +not troubled herself then to learn the meaning of his voice, and look so +much as once into the depths of his eyes. + +Lunch was no sooner over than the children were eager to show the +flowers, and all went out. Barbara and Gladys followed, and spoke when +appealed to; but they were not able to control their shoulders so well +as they did their tongues. Young girls, when reluctant to do any +particular thing, often find their shoulders in the way. These useful, +and generally graceful, portions of the human frame appear on such +occasions to feel a wish to put themselves forward, as if to bear the +brunt of it, and their manner is to do this edgeways. + +Emily heard Justina invited to see the rabbits and all the other pets, +and knew she would do so, and also manage to make the children take her +over the whole place, house included. She, however, felt a shrinking +from this inspection, an unwonted diffidence and shyness made her almost +fancy it would be taking a liberty. Not that John would think so. Oh, +no; he would never think about it. + +They soon went to look at the flowers; and there was old Swan ready to +exhibit and set off their good points. + +"And so you had another prize, Nicholas. I congratulate you," remarked +Emily. + +"Well, yes, ma'am, I had another. I almost felt, if I failed, it would +serve me right for trying too often. I said it was not my turn. 'Turn,' +said the umpire; 'it's merit we go by, not turn, Mr. Swan,' said he." + +"And poor Raby took a prize again, I hear," said Emily. "That man seems +to be getting on, Swan." + +"He does, ma'am; he's more weak than wicked, that man is. You can't make +him hold up his head; and he's allers contradicting himself. He promised +his vote last election to both sides. 'Why,' said I, 'what's the good +of that, William? Folks'll no more pay you for your words when you've +eaten them than they will for your bacon.' But that man really couldn't +make up his mind which side should bribe him. Still, William Raby is +getting on, I'm pleased to say." + +Justina had soon seen the flowers enough, and Emily could not make up +her mind to inspect anything else. She therefore returned towards the +library, and Barbara walked silently beside her. + +As she stepped in at the open window, a sound of sobbing startled her. +An oil painting, a portrait of John in his boyhood, hung against the +wall. Gladys stood with her face leaning against one of the hands that +hung down. Emily heard her words distinctly: "Oh, papa! Oh, papa! Oh, my +father beloved!" but the instant she caught the sound of footsteps, she +darted off like a frightened bird, and fled away without even looking +found. + +Then the twin sister turned slowly, and looked at Emily with entreating +eyes, saying--"Is it true, Mrs. Walker? Dear Mrs. Walker, is it really +true?" + +Emily felt cold at heart. How could she tell? John's words went for +nothing; Miss Christie might have mistaken them. She did not pretend to +misunderstand, but said she did not know; she had no reason to think it +was true. + +"But everybody says so," sighed Barbara. + +"If your father has said nothing--" Emily began. + +"No," she answered; her father had said nothing at all; but the mere +mention of his name seemed to overcome her. + +Emily sat down, talked to her, and tried to soothe her; but she had no +distinct denial to give, and in five minutes Barbara, kneeling before +her, was sobbing on her bosom, and bemoaning herself as if she would +break her heart. + +Truly the case of a step-mother is hard. + +Emily leaned her cheek upon the young upturned forehead. She faltered a +little as she spoke. If her father chose to marry again, had he not a +right? If she loved him, surely she wanted him to be--happy. + +"But she is a nasty, nasty thing," sobbed Barbara, with vehement +heavings of the chest and broken words, "and--and--I am sure I hate her, +and so does Gladys, and so does Johnnie too." Then her voice softened +again--"Oh, father, father! I would take such care of the little ones if +you wouldn't do it! and we would never, never quarrel with the +governesses, or make game of them any more." + +Emily drew her yet nearer to herself, and said in the stillest, most +matter-of-fact tone-- + +"Of course you know that you are a very naughty girl, my sweet." + +"Yes," said Barbara ruefully. + +"And very silly too," she continued; but there was something so tender +and caressing in her manner, that the words sounded like anything but a +reproof. + +"I don't think I am silly," said Barbara. + +"Yes, you are, if you are really making yourself miserable about an idle +rumour, and nothing more." + +"But everybody says it is true. Why, one of Johnnie's schoolfellows, who +has some friends near here, told him every one was talking of it." + +"Well, my darling," said Emily with a sigh, "but even if it is true, the +better you take it, the better it will be for you; and you don't want to +make your father miserable?" + +"No," said the poor child naively; "and we've been so good--so very +good--since we heard it. But it is so horrid to have a step-mother! I +told you papa had never said anything; but he did say once to Gladys +that he felt very lonely now Grand was gone. He said that he felt the +loss of mamma." + +She dried her eyes and looked up as she said these words, and Emily felt +a sharp pang of pity for John. He must be hard set indeed for help and +love and satisfying companionship if he was choosing to suppose that he +had buried such blessings as these with the wife of his youth. + +"Oh!" said Barbara, with a weary sigh, "Johnnie does so hate the thought +of it! He wrote us such a furious letter. What was my mother like, dear +Mrs. Walker? It's so hard that we cannot remember her." + +Emily looked down at Barbara's dark hair and lucid blue-grey eyes, at +the narrow face and pleasant rosy mouth. + +"Your mother was like you--to look at," she answered. + +She felt obliged to put in those qualifying words, for Janie Mortimer +had given her face to her young daughter; but the girl's passionate +feelings and yearning love, and even, as it seemed, pity for her father +and herself, had all come from the other side of the house. + +Barbara rose when she heard this, and stood up, as if to be better seen +by her who had spoken what she took for such appreciative words, and +Emily felt constrained to take the dead mother's part, and say what it +was best for her child to hear. + +"Barbara, no one would have been less pleased than your mother at your +all setting yourselves against this. Write and tell Johnnie so, will +you, my dear?" + +Barbara looked surprised. + +"She was very judicious, very reasonable; it is not on her account at +all that you need resent your father's intention--if, indeed, he has +such an intention." + +"But Johnnie remembers her very well," said Barbara, not at all pleased, +"and she was very sweet and very delightful, and that's why he does +resent it so much." + +"If I am to speak of her as she was, I must say that is a state of +feeling she would not have approved of, or even cared about." + +"Not cared that father should love some one else!" + +The astonishment expressed in the young, childlike face daunted Emily +for the moment. + +"She would have cared for your welfare. You had better think of her as +wishing that her children should always be very dear to their father, as +desirous that they should not set themselves against his wishes, and vex +and displease him." + +"Then I suppose I'd better give you Johnnie's letter," said Barbara, +"because he is so angry--quite furious, really." She took out a letter, +and put it into Emily's hand. "Will you burn it when you go home? but, +Mrs. Walker, will you read it first, because then you'll see that +Johnnie does love father--and dear mamma too." + +Voices were heard now and steps on the gravel. Barbara took up her +eyeglass, and moved forward; then, when she saw Justina, she retreated +to Emily's side with a gesture of discomfiture and almost of disgust. + +"Any step-mother at all," she continued, "Johnnie says, he hates the +thought of; but that one--Oh!" + +"What a lesson for me!" thought Emily; and she put the letter in her +pocket. + +"It's very rude," whispered Barbara; "but you mustn't mind that;" and +with a better grace than could have been expected she allowed Justina to +kiss her, and the two ladies walked back through the fields, the younger +children accompanying them nearly all the way home. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +MRS. BRANDON ASKS A QUESTION. + + + "Your baby-days flowed in a much-troubled channel; + I see you as then in your impotent strife, + A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel, + Perplexed with that newly-found fardel call'd life." + + Locker. + +John Mortimer was the last guest to make his appearance on the morning +of the christening. He found the baby, who had been brought down to be +admired, behaving scandalously, crying till he was crimson in the face, +and declining all his aunt's loving persuasions to him to go to sleep. +Emily was moving up and down the drawing-room, soothing and cherishing +him in her arms, assuring him that this was his sleepy time, and shaking +and patting him as is the way of those who are cunning with babies. But +all was in vain. He was carried from his father's house in a storm of +indignation, and from time to time he repeated his protest against +things in general till the service was over. + +Some of the party walked home to the house. Justina lingered, hastened, +and accosted John Mortimer. But all in vain; he kept as far as possible +from her, while Emily, who had gone forward, very soon found him close +at her side. + +"Madam," he said, "I shall have the honour of taking you in to luncheon. +Did you know it?" + +"No, John," she answered, laughing because he did, and feeling as if the +occasion had suddenly become more festive, though she knew some +explanation must be coming. + +"I shall easily find an opportunity," he said, "of telling St. George +what I have done. I went through the dining-room and saw the names on +the plates, and I took the liberty to change one or two. You can sit by +the curate at any time. In fact, I should think old friendship and a +kind heart might make you prefer to sit by me. Say that they do, Mrs. +Walker." + +"They do," answered Emily. "But your reason, John?" + +"That little creature is a match-maker. Why must she needs give me the +golden head?" + +"Oh, she did? Perhaps it was because she thought you would expect it." + +"Expect it! _I_ expect it? No; I am in the blessed case of him who +expects nothing, and who therefore cannot be disappointed. I always +thought you were my friends, all of you." + +"So we are, John; you know we are." + +"Then how can you wish such a thing for me? Emily, you cannot think how +utterly tired I am of being teased about that woman--that lady. And now +St. George has begun to do it. I declare, if I cannot put a stop to it +in any other way, I'll do it by marrying somebody else." + +"That is indeed a fearful threat, John," said Emily, "and meant, no +doubt, to show that you have reached the last extremity of earnestness." + +"Which is a condition you will never reach," said John, laughing, and +lapsing into the old intimate fashion with her. "It is always your way +to slip into things easily." + +John and Emily had walked on, and believed themselves to be well in +front, and out of hearing of the others; but when the right time has +come for anything to be found out, what is the use of trying to keep it +hidden? Justina, seeing her opportunity, went forward just as Brandon +drew the rest of the party aside to look at some rather rare ferns, +whose curled-up fronds, like little crosiers, were showing on the sandy +bank. She drew on, and one more step would have brought her even with +them, when John Mortimer uttered the words-- + +"If I cannot put a stop to it in any other way, I'll do it by marrying +somebody else." + +Justina stopped and stooped instantly, as if to gather some delicate +leaves of silver-weed that grew in the sand; and Emily, who had caught +her step, turned for one instant, and saw her without being perceived. + +Justina knew what these words meant, and stood still arranging her +leaves, to let them pass on and the others come up. Soon after which +they all merged into one group. John gave his arm to Mrs. Henfrey, and +Emily, falling behind, began to consider how much Justina had heard, and +what she would do. + +Now Dorothea had said in the easiest way possible to Justina, "I shall +ask our new clergyman to take Emily in to luncheon, and Mr. Mortimer to +take you." Justina knew now that the game was up; she was not quick of +perception, but neither was she vacillating. When once she had decided +on any course, she never had the discomfort of wishing afterwards that +she had done otherwise. There was undoubtedly a rumour going about to +the effect that John Mortimer liked her, and was "coming forward." No +one knew better than herself and her mother how this rumour had been +wafted on, and how little there was in it. "Yet," she reflected, "it was +my best chance. It was necessary to put it into his head somehow to +think about me in such a light; but that others have thought too much +and said too much, it might have succeeded. What I should like best +now," she further considered, pondering slowly over the words in her +mind, "would be to have people say that I have refused him." + +She had reached this point when Emily joined her walking silently +beside her, that she might not appear companionless. Emily was full of +pity for her, in spite of the lightening of her own heart. People who +have nothing to hope best know what a lifting of the cloud it is to have +also nothing to fear. + +The poetical temperament of Emily's mind made her frequently change +places with others, and, indeed, become in thought those others--fears, +feelings, and all. + +"What are you crying for, Emily?" her mother had once said to her, when +she was a little child. + +"I'm not Emily now," she answered; "I'm the poor little owl, and I can't +help crying because that cruel Smokey barked at me and frightened me, +and pulled several of my best feathers out." + +And now, just the same, Emily was Justina, and such thoughts as Justina +might be supposed to be thinking passed through Emily's mind somewhat in +this way:-- + +"No; it is not at all fair! I have been like a ninepin set up in the +game of other people's lives, only to be knocked down again; and yet +without me the game could not have been played. Yes; I have been made +useful, for through me other people have unconsciously set him against +matrimony. If they would but have let him alone"--(Oh, Justina! how can +you help thinking now?)--"I could have managed it, if I might have had +all the game to myself." + +Next to the power of standing outside one's self, and looking at _me_ as +other folks see me, the most remarkable is this of (by the insight of +genius and imagination) becoming _you_. The first makes one sometimes +only too reasonable, too humble; the second warms the heart and enriches +the soul, for it gives the charms of selfhood to beings not ourselves. + +"Yet it is a happy thing for some of us," thought Emily, finishing her +cogitations in her own person, "that the others are not allowed to play +all the game themselves." + +When Brandon got home John saw his wife quietly look at him. "Now what +does that mean?" he thought; "it was something more than mere observance +of his entering. Those two have means of transport for their thoughts +past the significance of words. Yes, I'm right; she goes into the +dining-room, and he will follow her. Have they found it out?" + +All the guests were standing in a small morning-room, taking coffee; and +Brandon presently walking out of the French window into the garden, came +up to the dining-room outside. There was Dorothea. + +"Love," she said, looking out, "what do you think? Some of these names +have been changed." + +"Perhaps a waft of wind floated them off the plates," said Brandon, +climbing in over the window-ledge, "and the servants restored them +amiss. But, Mrs. Brandon, don't you think if that baby of yours squalls +again after lunch, he had better drink his own health himself somewhere +else? I say, how nice you look, love!--I like that gown." + +"He must come in, St. George; but do attend to business--look!" + +"Whew!" exclaimed Brandon, having inspected the plates; "it must have +been a very intelligent waft of wind that did this." + +Two minutes after Brandon sauntered in again by the window, and John +Mortimer observed the door. When Mrs. Brandon entered, she saw him +standing on the rug keeping Emily in conversation. Mrs. Brandon admired +Mr. Mortimer; he was tall, fair, stately, and had just such a likeness +to Valentine as could not fail to be to his advantage in the opinion of +any one who, remembering Valentine's smiling face, small forehead, and +calm eyes, sees the same contour of countenance, with an expression at +once grave and sweet; features less regular, but with a grand +intellectual brow, and keen blue eyes--not so handsome as Valentine's, +but with twice as direct an outlook and twice as much tenderness of +feeling in them; and has enough insight to perceive the difference of +character announced by these varieties in the type. + +John Mortimer, who was persistently talking to Emily, felt that +Brandon's eyes were upon him, and that he looked amused. He never +doubted that his work had been observed, and that his wish would be +respected. + +"Luncheon's on the table." + +"John," said Brandon instantly, "will you take in my wife?" + +John obeyed. He knew she did not sit at the head of the table, so he +took it and placed her on his right, while Emily and her curate were on +his left. It was a very large party, but during the two minutes they had +been alone together Brandon and Dorothea had altered the whole +arrangement of it. + +John saw that Brandon had given to him his own usual place, and had +taken the bottom of the table. He thought his own way of managing that +matter would have been simpler, but he was very well content, and made +himself highly agreeable till there chanced to be a little cessation of +the clatter of plates, and a noticeable pause in the conversation. Then +Justina began to play her part. + +"Mr. Mortimer," she said, leaning a little before Emily's curate, "this +is not at all too late for the north of Italy, is it? I want to visit +Italy." + +"I should not set out so late in the year," John answered. "I should not +stay even at Florence a day later than the end of May." + +"Oh, don't say that!" she answered. "I have been so longing, you know, +for years to go to the north of Italy, and now it seems as if there was +a chance--as if my mother would consent." + +"You know!" thought John. "I know nothing of the kind, how should I?" + +"It really does seem now as if we might leave England for a few +months," she continued. "There is nothing at all to keep her here, if +she could but think so. You saw my brother the other day?" + +"Yes." + +"And you thought he looked tolerably well again, did you not?" + +"Yes; I think I did." + +"Then," she continued persuasively, and with all serenity, several +people being now very attentive to the conversation--"then, if my mother +should chance to see you, Mr. Mortimer, and should consult you about +this, you will not be so unfriendly to me as to tell her that it is too +late. You must not, you know, Mr. Mortimer, because she thinks so much +of your opinion." + +This was said in some slight degree more distinctly than usual, and with +the repetition of his name, that no one might doubt whom she was +addressing. + +It made a decided impression, but on no one so much as on himself. "What +a fool I have been!" he thought; "in spite of appearances this has been +very far from her thoughts, and perhaps annoyance at the ridiculous +rumour is what makes her so much want to be off." + +He then entered with real interest into the matter, and before luncheon +was over a splendid tour had been sketched out in the Austrian Tyrol, +which he proved to demonstration was far better in the summer than +Italy. Justina was quite animated, and only hoped her mother would not +object. It was just as well she expressed doubts and fears on that head, +for Lady Fairbairn had never in her life had a hint even that her +daughter was dying to go on the Continent; and Justina herself had only +decided that it was well to intend such a thing, not that it would be +wise or necessary to carry the intention out. + +She exerted herself, keeping most careful watch and guard over her voice +and smile. It was not easy for her to appear pleased when she felt +piqued, and to feign a deep interest in the Austrian Tyrol, when she +had not known, till that occasion, whereabouts on the map it might be +found. She was becoming tired and quite flushed when the opportune +entrance of the baby--that morsel of humanity with a large +name--diverted every one's attention from her, and relieved her from +further effort. + +There is nothing so difficult as to make a good speech at a wedding or a +christening without affecting somebody's feelings. Some people stand so +much in fear of this, that they can hardly say anything. Others enjoy +doing it, and are dreaded accordingly; for, beside the pain of having +one's feelings touched, and being obliged to weep, there is the red nose +that follows. + +John, when he stood up to propose the health of his godson, St. George +Mortimer Brandon (who luckily was sound asleep), had the unusual +good-fortune to please and interest everybody (even the parents) without +making any one cry. + +It is the commonplaces of tenderness, and the every-day things about +time and change, that are affecting; but if a speaker can add to all he +touches concerning man's life, and love, and destiny, something reached +down from the dominion of thought, beautiful and fresh enough to make +his hearers wonder at him, and experience that elation of heart which is +the universal tribute paid to all beautiful things, then they will feel +deeply perhaps; but the joy of beauty will elevate them, and the mind +will save the eyes from annoying tears. + +Before her guests retired, Emily having lingered up-stairs with the +baby, Dorothea found herself for a few minutes alone with Justina, who +was very tired, but felt that her task was not quite finished. So, as +she took up her bonnet and advanced to the looking-glass to put it on, +she said, carelessly, "I wonder whether this colour will stand Italian +sunshine." + +Dorothea's fair young face was at once full of interest. Justina saw +curiosity, too, but none was expressed; she only said, with the least +little touch of pique, "And you never told _me_ that you were wishing so +much to go away." + +Justina turned, and from her superior height stooped to kiss Dorothea, +as if by way of apology, whereupon she added, "I had hoped, indeed, I +felt sure, that you liked this place and this neighbourhood." + +"What are you alluding to, dear," said Justina, though Dorothea had +alluded to nothing. + +But Dorothea remaining silent, Justina had to go on. + +"I think (if _that_ is what you mean) that no one who cares for me could +wish me to undertake a very difficult task--such a very difficult task +as that, and one which perhaps I am not at all fit for." + +On this Dorothea betrayed a certain embarrassment, rather a painful +blush tinged her soft cheek. "I would not have taken the liberty to hint +at such a thing," she answered. + +"She would not have liked it," thought Justina, with not unnatural +surprise; for Dorothea had shown a fondness for her. + +"But of course I know there has been an idea in the neighbourhood that +you----" + +"That I what?" asked Justina. + +"Why that you might--you might undertake it." + +"Oh, nonsense, dear! nonsense, all talk," said Justina; "don't believe a +word of it." Her tone seemed to mean just the contrary, and Dorothea +looked doubtful. + +"There have been some attentions, certainly," continued Justina, turning +before the glass as if to observe whether her scarf was folded to her +mind. "Of course every one must have observed that! But really, dear, +such a thing"--she put up her large steady hand, and fastened her veil +with due care--"such a thing as that would never do. Who _could_ have +put it into your head to think of it?" + +"She does not care for him in the least, then," thought Dorothea; "and +it seems that he has cared for her. I don't think he does now, for he +seemed rather pleased to sketch out that tour which will take her away +from him. I like her, but even if it was base to her, I should still be +glad she was not going to marry John Mortimer." + +Justina was in many respects a pleasant woman. She was a good daughter, +she had a very good temper, serene, never peevish; she did not forget +what was due to others, she was reasonable, and, on the whole, just. She +felt what a pity it was that Mr. Mortimer was so unwise. She regretted +this with a sincerity not disturbed by any misgiving. Taking the deepest +interest in herself, as every way worthy and desirable, she did for +herself what she could, and really felt as if this was both a privilege +and a duty. Something like the glow of a satisfied conscience filled her +mind when she reflected that to this end she had worked, and left +nothing undone, just as such a feeling rises in some minds on so +reflecting about efforts made for another person. But with all her +foibles, old people liked her, and her own sex liked her, for she was a +comfortable person to be with; one whose good points attracted regard, +and whose faults were remarkably well concealed. + +With that last speech she bowled herself out of the imaginary game of +ninepins, and the next stroke was made by Dorothea. + +She went down to the long drawing-room, and found all her guests +departed, excepting John Mortimer, who came up to take leave of her. He +smiled. "I wanted to apologize," he said, taking her hand, "(it was a +great liberty), for the change I made in your table." + +"The change, did you say," she answered, oh so softly! "or the changes?" +And then she became suddenly shy, and withdrew her hand, which he was +still holding; and he, drawing himself up to his full height, stood +stock still for a moment as if lost in thought and in surprise. + +It was such a very slight hint to him that two ladies had been +concerned, but he took it,--remembered that one of them was the sister +of his host, and also that he had not been allowed to carry out his +_changes_ just as he had devised them. "I asked Emily's leave," he said, +"to take her in." + +"Oh, did you?" answered Dorothea, with what seemed involuntary interest, +and then he took his leave. + +"Why did I never think of this before? I don't believe there ever was +such a fool in this world," he said to himself, as he mounted his horse +and rode off. "Of course, if I were driven to it, Emily would be fifty +times more suitable for me than that calm blond spinster. Liberty is +sweet, however, and I will not do it if I can help it. The worst of it +is, that Emily, of all the women of my acquaintance, is the only one who +does not care one straw about me. There's no hurry--I fancy myself +making her an offer, and getting laughed at for my pains." Then John +Mortimer amused himself with recollections of poor Fred Walker's wooing, +how ridiculous he had made himself, and how she had laughed at him, and +yet, out of mere sweetness of nature, taken him. "It's not in her to be +in love with any man," he reflected; "and I suppose it's not in me to be +in love with any woman. So far at least we might meet on equal ground." + +In the meantime, Dorothea was cosily resting on the sofa in her +dressing-room, her husband was with her, and St. George Mortimer +Brandon,--the latter as quiet as possible in his cot, now nobody cared +whether his behaviour did him credit or not. + +"Love," she said, "do you know I shouldn't be at all surprised if John +Mortimer has made Justina an offer, and she has refused him." + +"_I_ should be very much surprised, indeed," said Brandon, laughing; "I +think highly of his good sense--and of hers, for both which reasons I +feel sure, my darling, that he has not made her an offer, and she has +not refused him." + +"But I am almost sure he has," proceeded Dorothea, "otherwise I should +be obliged to think that the kind of things she said to-day were not +quite fair." + +"What did she say?" + +Dorothea told him. + +"I do not think that amounts to much," said Brandon. + +"Oh then you think he never did ask her? I hope and trust you are +right." + +"Why do you hope and trust, Mrs. Brandon? What can it signify to you?" +Then, when she made no answer, he went on. "To be sure that would make +it highly natural that he should be glad at the prospect of her +absenting herself." + +"I was just thinking so. Did not he speak well, St. George." + +"He did; you were wishing all the time that I could speak as well!" + +"Just as if you did not speak twice as well! Besides, you have a much +finer voice. I like so much to hear you when you get excited." + +"Ah! that is the thing. I have taken great pains to learn the art of +speaking, and when to art excitement is added, I get on well enough. But +John, without being excited, says, and cares nothing about them, the +very things I should like to have said, but that will not perfectly +reveal themselves to me till my speech is over." + +"But he is not eloquent." + +"No; he does not on particular occasions rise above the ordinary level +of his thoughts. His everyday self suffices for what he has to do and +say. But sometimes, if we two have spoken at the same meeting, and I see +the speeches reported--though mine may have been most cheered--I find +little in it, while he has often said perfectly things of real use to +our party." + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. + + + "Pleasures of memory! O supremely blest + And justly proud beyond a poet's praise, + If the pure confines of thy tranquil breast + Contain indeed the subject of thy lays." + + (Said to be by Rogers.) + +A few days after this Emily was coming down the lane leading to John +Mortimer's house, having taken leave of Justina at the railway station. +She was reading a letter just received from Valentine, signed for the +first time in full, Valentine Melcombe. The young gentleman, it +appeared, was quite as full of fun as ever; had been to Visp and +Rifflesdorf, and other of those places--found them dull on the +whole--had taken a bath. "And you may judge of the smell of the water," +he went on to his sister, "when I tell you that I fell asleep after it, +and dreamt I was a bad egg. I hoped I shouldn't hatch into a bad fellow. +I've been here three days and seen nobody; the population (chiefly +Catholic) consists of three goats, a cock and hen, and a small lake!" + +Here lifting up her head as she passed by John's gate, Emily observed +extraordinary signs of festivity about the place. Flags protruded from +various bedroom windows, wreaths and flowers dangling at the end of long +poles from others, rows of dolls dressed in their best sat in state on +the lower boughs of larches, together with tinsel butterflies, frail +balloons, and other gear not often seen excepting on Christmas-trees. + +It was Saturday afternoon, a half-holiday; the two little boys, who were +weekly pupils of a clergyman in the immediate neighbourhood, always came +home at that auspicious time, and there remained till Monday morning. + +From one of them Emily learned that some epidemic having broken out at +Harrow, in the "house" where Johnnie was, the boys had been dispersed, +and Johnnie, having been already in quarantine a fortnight, had now come +home, and the place had been turned out of windows to welcome him. + +"And Cray is at Mr. Brandon's," said Bertie, "but on Monday they are +both to go to Mr. Tikey's with us." + +Something aloft very large and black at this moment startled Emily. +Johnnie, who had climbed up a tall poplar tree, and was shaking it +portentously, began to let himself down apparently at the peril of his +life, and the girls at the same moment coming out of the house, welcomed +Emily, letting her know that their father had given them a large, +_lovely_ cuckoo clock to hangup in Parliament. "And you shall come and +see it," they said. Emily knew this was a most unusual privilege. +"Johnnie is not gone up there to look for nests," said Gladys, "but to +reconnoitre the country. If we let you know what for, you won't tell?" + +"Certainly not," said Emily, and she was borne off to Parliament, +feeling a curiosity to see it, because John had fitted it up for the +special and exclusive delectation of his young brood. It embodied his +notion of what children would delight in. + +An extraordinary place indeed she thought it. At least fifty feet long, +and at the end farthest from the house, without carpet. A carpenter's +bench, many tools, and some machines were there, shavings strewed the +floor; something, evidently meant to turn out a wheel-barrow, was in +course of being hewn from a solid piece of wood, by very young +carpenters, and various articles of furniture by older hands were in +course of concoction. "Johnnie and Cray carved this in the winter," said +the girls, "and when it is done it will be a settle, and stand in the +arbour where papa smokes sometimes." + +At the other end of the room was spread a very handsome new Turkey +carpet; a piano stood there, and a fine pair of globes; the walls were +hung with maps, but also with some of the strangest pictures possible; +figures chiefly, with scrolls proceeding from their mouths, on which +sentences were written. A remarkable chair, very rude and clumsy, but +carved all over with letters, flowers, birds, and other devices, +attracted Emily's attention. + +"What is that? Why, don't you see that it's a throne? Father's throne +when he comes to Parliament to make a speech, or anything of that sort +there. Johnnie made it, but we all carved our initials on it." + +Emily inspected the chair, less to remark on the goodness of the carving +than to express her approval of its spirit. Johnnie's flowers were +indeed wooden, but his birds and insects, though flat and rough, were +all intended to be alive. He had too much directness, and also real +vitality, to carve poor dead birds hanging by the legs with torn and +ruffled feathers, and showing pathetically their quenched and faded +eyes; he wanted his birds to peck and his beetles to be creeping. +Luckily for himself, he saw no beauty in death and misery, still less +could think them ornamental. + +Emily praised his wooden work, and the girls, with a sort of shy +delight, questioned her: "Was it really true, then, that Miss Fairbairn +was gone, and was not coming back to England for weeks and weeks?" "Yes, +really true; why had they made themselves so miserable about nothing?" +"Ah, you were so kind; but, dear Mrs. Walker, you know very well how +horrid it would have been to have a step-mother." + +Emily sat down and looked about her. A very large slate, swung on a +stand like a looking-glass, stood on the edge of the carpet. On it were +written these words: "I cry, 'Jam satis,'" John's writing evidently, and +of great size. She had no time, however, to learn what it meant, for, +with a shout like a war-whoop, Johnnie's voice was heard below, and +presently, as it were, driving his little brothers and sisters before +him, Johnnie himself came blundering up-stairs at full speed with +Crayshaw on his back. "Bolt it, bolt the door," panted Crayshaw; and +down darted one of the girls to obey. "And you kids sit down on the +floor every one of you, that you mayn't be theen below, and don't make a +thound," said Johnnie, depositing Crayshaw on a couch, while Barbara +began to fan him. "They're coming up the lane," were Johnnie's first +words, when the whole family was seated on the floor like players at +hunt the slipper. "You won't tell, Mrs. Walker?" + +"Not tell what, to whom?" asked Emily. + +"Why that fellow, Cray's brother, wrote to Mr. Brandon that he was +coming, and should take him away. It's a shame." + +"It's a shame," repeated Crayshaw, panting. "I wish the Continent had +never been invented." + +"Hold your tongue; if you make yourself pant they'll hear you. Hang +being done good to! Why, you've been perfectly well till this day, for +the last six months----" + +"And should have been now," Crayshaw gasped out, "only I ran over here +just after my lunch." + +Emily, the only person seated on a chair, John's throne in fact, was far +back in the room, and could not be seen from below. A few minutes passed +away, while Crayshaw began to breathe like, other people, and a certain +scratching noise was heard below, upon which significant looks entreated +her to be silent. She thought she would let things take their course, +and sat still for a minute, when a casement was flung open below, and a +shrill voice cried, "Mr. Swan, I say, here's Mr. Brandon in the stable +yard, and another gentleman, and they want very particular to know where +Master Johnnie is." + +"I can't say I know, cookie," answered Swan. + +"And," continued the same shrill voice, "if you can't tell 'em that, +they'd like to know where Matthew is?" + +Matthew was the coachman, and Swan's rival. + +"Just as if I knew! why, he's so full of fads he won't trust anybody, +and nothing ever suits him. You may tell them, if you like," he +answered, not intending her to take him at his word, "that I expect he's +gone to dig his own grave, for fear when he's dead they shouldn't do it +to his mind." + +The cook laughed and slammed the casement. + +Presently, coming round to the front garden, wheels were heard grating +on the gravel, and Brandon's voice shouted, "Swan, Swan, I say, is young +Crayshaw here?" + +"No, sir," Swan shouted in reply; "not as I know of." + +Two voices were heard to parley at a distance, great excitement +prevailed up in Parliament, excepting in the mind of Anastasia, whose +notion of her own part in this ceremony of hiding was that she must keep +her little feet very even and close together beside Johnnie's great +ones; so she took no notice, though hasty footsteps were heard, and a +voice spoke underneath, "Whereabout can young Mortimer be? we must find +him." + +"I don't know, sir," repeated Swan, still raking peaceably. + +"He cannot be very far off, Swanny," said Brandon, "we saw him up the +poplar-tree not a quarter of an hour ago." + +"Ay, sir, I shouldn't wonder," said Swan carelessly. "Bless you, +whether their folks air rich or poor, they never think at that age what +it costs to clothe 'em. I never found with my boys that they'd done +climbing for crows' eggs till such time as they bought their own +breeches. After that trees were nought but lumber, and crows were +carrion." + +"But we really must find these boys, if we can," exclaimed Brandon; "and +it seems as if they had all the family with them, the place is so quiet. +Where do you think they can have gone?" + +"I haven't a notion, sir--maybe up to the fir-woods, maybe out to the +common--they roam all about the country on half-holidays." + +"Oh," said the other voice, "they may go where they please, may they?" + +"Naturally so," said Swan; "they may go anywhere, sir, or do anything in +reason, on a half-holiday. It would be a shame to give a pig leave to +grunt, and then say he's not to grunt through his nose." + +"Perhaps they're up in Parliament," observed Brandon. + +"No, that they're not," Swan exclaimed; "so sure as they're there they +make the roof ring." + +"And the door's, locked." + +"Yes, the door's locked, and wherever they air they've got the key. They +let nobody in, sir, but my daughter, and she goes o' mornings to sweep +it out." + +"Well, Swan, good day. Come on, George, we'll try the fir-wood first." + +"Or perhaps they're gone to Wigfield," said the second voice. + +"No, sir, I think not," said Swan. "They sent one of the little boys +there on an errand, so I judge that they've no call to go again." + +Yes, one of the little boys had been sent, and had no reason to be +ashamed of what he had also done there on his own account. + +What! though I have all sorts of good food in my father's house, and +plenty of it, shall it not still be a joy to me to buy a whole pot of +plum-jam with my ninepence? Certainly it shall, and with generous ardour +I shall call my younger brothers and sisters together to my little room, +where in appreciative silence we shall hang over it, while I dig it out +with the butt-end of my tooth-brush. + +Johnnie's face grew radiant as these two went off to search the +fir-wood, but nobody dared to speak or stir, for Swan was still close +underneath, so close that they could hear him grumbling to himself over +the laziness of a woman who had been hired to weed the walks for him, +and was slowly scratching them at a good distance. + +"Ay, there you go, grudging every weed you pull. The master says it +ain't a woman's work--wants to raise you--you! 'Sir,' says I, 'folks +can't rise o' top of parish pay,' Ay, she was a pauper, and she'd have +liked to charge the parish twopence a time for suckling her own child. +Now what would you have? Ain't two shillings a day handsome for +scratching out half a peck of grass? You might work here for some time, +too, but bless us, what's the good of saying to such as you, 'Don't +stand waiting for good luck, and give the go-by to good opportunity?' +Your man's just like you," he continued, using his rake with delicate +skill among the flowers, while she scratched calmly on, out of +hearing--"your man's just like you, idle dog! (you won't raise Phil Raby +in a trice.) Why, if he was rich enough to drive his own taxed cart, +he'd sooner jolt till his bones ached than get down to grease his +wheels." Then a short silence, and other feet came up. "Well, Jemmy man, +and what do you want?" + +A small voice, in a boy's falsetto tone answered, "Please, Mr. Swan, +I've brought the paper." + +"Have you now, and what's the news, Jemmy, do you know?" + +"Yes--coals are riz again." + +"You don't say so! that's a thing to make a man thoughtful; and what +else, Jemmy?" + +"Why, the Governor-general's come home from India." + +"Only think o' that! Well, he may come and welcome, for aught I care, +Jemmy. Let the cook give warning or keep her place, it's all one to the +flies in the kitchen window." + +The new-comer withdrew, and Swan was presently heard to throw down his +rake and go off to argue with his subordinate, whom he very soon +preceded into the back garden behind the house, to the great joy of the +party in Parliament, who, still sitting perfectly quiet, began to talk +in low tones, Emily inquiring what they really hoped to effect by +concealing themselves. + +"Why, George Crayshaw," said Cray (that being his manner of designating +his brother when he was not pleased with him)--"George Crayshaw is only +come down here for one day, and Mr. Brandon had fully arranged that I +should go to Mr. Tikey till we two return to Harrow, and now he's going +to Germany, and wants me to start with him this very day--says the dry +continental air may do me good. Why, I am perfectly well--perfectly." + +"So it appears," said Emily. + +"Look how he's grown, then," exclaimed Johnnie, who had almost left off +lisping, "he hardly ever has a touch of asthma now. His brother hates +trouble, so if he cannot find him he may go off by himself." + +"I was just writing out my verses," Crayshaw whispered, "when I +overheard Mr. Brandon saying in the garden that he expected George." + +"Were you alone?" asked Gladys, hoping he had not been seen to run off. + +"Was I alone? Well, there was nobody present but myself, if you call +that being alone--I don't. That fellow argues so; he's, so intrusive, +and often makes such a noise that I can get no retirement for writing my +poetry." + +"What a goose you are, Cray!" said Barbara. "I wish, though, you would +speak lower." + +"Besides," continued Crayshaw, excusing himself to Mrs. Walker; "it's so +dull being with George, he's always collecting things. The last time I +saw him he was on his knees cleaning up a dingy old picture he'd just +bought. Fanny stood beside him with a soapy flannel. She looked quite +religious; she was so grave. I saw a red cabbage in the picture and a +pot of porter, the froth extremely fine. 'I hope,' said George, very hot +after his exertions, 'that when you are of age you will follow in my +steps, and endow our common country with some of these priceless----' +'Common,' interrupted Mrs. Jannaway. 'Common country, do I hear aright, +George Crayshaw?' (I don't love that old lady _much_.) 'George,' I said, +for I pitied him for having a mother-in-law, 'when I get my money I +shall pay a man to paint another old picture for you, as a companion to +that. There shall be three mackerel in it, very dead indeed; they shall +lie on a willow-pattern plate, while two cock-roaches that have climbed +up it squint over the edge at them. There shall also be a pork-pie in +it, and a brigand's hat. The composition will be splendid.' I took out +my pocket-book and said, 'I'll make a mem. of it now.' So I did, and +added, 'Mem.: Never to have a mother-in-law, unless her daughter is as +pretty as Fanny Crayshaw.'" + +The little boys were now allowed to have tools and go on with their +carving, still seated on the ground. The girls took out their tatting, +and talk went on. + +"Mrs. Walker has just been saying that she cannot bear carving, and +pictures of dead things," observed Barbara. "So, Cray, she will think +you right to despise those your brother buys. And, Johnnie, she wishes +to know about our pictures." + +"And those great sentences too," added Emily. "What do they mean?" + +"The big picture is Dover," said little Jamie, "and that Britannia +sitting on the cliff, they cut out of _Punch_ and stuck on. You see she +has a boot in her hand. It belongs to our Sham memory that father made +for us." + +"It's nearly the same as what Feinangle invented," Johnnie explained. +"The vowels do not count, but all the consonants stand for figures. Miss +Crampton used to make the kids so miserable. She would have them learn +dates, and they could not remember them." + +"Even Barbara used to cry over the dates," whispered Janie. + +"You needn't have told that," said Barbara sharply. + +"But at first we altered the letters so many times, that father said he +would not help us, unless we made a decree that they should stay as they +were for ever," said Gladys. "Johnnie had stolen the letter I, and made +it stand for one. So it does still, though it is a vowel. Janie has a +form of our plan. Hand it up, Janie." + +Janie accordingly produced a little bag, and unfolded a paper of which +this is a copy:-- + + JANIE MORTIMER Fecit This. + + + 1 2 3 + I.T. N.B. M.Y. + + + 4 5 6 + R.Q. C.J.V. D.S. + + + 7 8 9 + K.G. H.P. F.L. + + + Ought + W.X.Z. + + + A & E & O & U dont count. You're to make + up the sentence with them. + +"The rule is," said Gladys, "that you make a sentence of words beginning +with anyone of those letters that stand for the figures you want to +remember. Miss Crampton wanted us to know the dates of all Wellington's +battles; of course we couldn't; we do now, though. You see Britannia's +scroll has on it, 'I'll put _on_ Wellington boots,' that means 1802. So +we know, to begin with, that till after she put on Wellington boots, we +need not trouble ourselves to remember anything particular about him." + +"There's a portrait of Lord Palmerston," whispered Crayshaw, "he has a +map of Belgium pasted on his breast. He says, 'I, Pam, managed this."' + +"Yes, that means the date of the independence of Belgium," said +Gladys. "Johnnie made it, but father says it is not quite fair." + +"The best ones," Johnnie explained, "ought not to have any extra word, +and should tell you what they mean themselves. 'I hear navvies coming,' +is good--it means the making of the first railway. Here are four not so +good:--Magna Charta--'The Barons _extorted_ this Charter,' 1215. The +Reformation--'They came _out of_ you, Rome,' 1534. Discovery of +America--'In re _a_ famous navigator,' 1492. And Waterloo--Bonaparte +says it--'Isle perfide tu _as_ vaincu,' 1815." + +"I have thought of one for the Reform Bill," said Emily: "get a portrait +of Lord Russell, and let his scroll say, 'They've passed my bill.'" + +"That is a good one, but they must not be too simple and easy, or they +are forgotten," said one of the girls; "but we make them for many things +besides historical events. Those are portraits, and show when people +were born. There is dear Grand; 'I _owe_ Grand love _and_ duty,' That +next one is Tennyson; 'I have won laurels.' There's Swan; Swan said he +did not know whether he was born in 1813 or 1814; so Johnnie did them +both. 'The principal thing's muck _as_ these here _airly_ tates +require.' You see the first Napoleon, looking across the Channel at +Britannia with the boot: he says, 'I hate white cliffs,' which means +Trafalgar; and 'I cry, Jam satis,' father has just invented for Charles, +that King of Spain who was Emperor of Germany too. You can see by it +that he abdicated in 1556. Miss Crampton used to wonder at our having +become so clever with our dates all on a sudden. And there's one that +Mr. Brandon made. You see those ships? That is a picture of Boston +harbour (Cray's Boston). If you were nearer, you could see them pouring +something over their sides into the water, using the harbour for a +teapot. On their pennons is written, 'Tea _of_ King George's _own_ +making.' Oh, Cray! what is that noise?" Silence, a crunching of decided +step coming on fast and firmly; the faces of the party fell. + +"It's all up!" sighed Crayshaw. + +Somebody shook the door at the foot of the stairs; then a voice rang +through the place like a silver trumpet, "Johnnie." + +"Yes, father," answered Johnnie in the loud, melancholy tone not +unfrequently used by a boy when he succumbs to lawful authority. + +"What are you about, sir? What are you thinking of? Come down this +moment, and open the door." + +One of the little boys had been already dispatched down-stairs, and was +turning the key. In another instant John Mortimer, coming quickly up +beheld the party seated on the floor, looking very foolish, and Mrs. +Walker in his throne laughing. Crayshaw got up to present himself, and +take the blame on his own shoulders, and John was so much surprised to +find Emily present, and perhaps aiding, that he stopped short in his +inquiry how they had dared to bring him home when he was so busy, and +observing the ridiculous side of the question, sat down at once, and +laughed also, while she said something by way of excuse for them, and +they made the best defence they could. + +Emily had the little Anastasia in her arms; the child, tired of +inaction, had fallen asleep, with her delicate rosy cheek leaning +against Emily's fair throat. + +John felt the beauty of the attitude, and perceived how Emily's presence +gave completeness to the group. + +Much too young to be the mother of the elder children, there was still +something essentially mother-like in all her ways. His children, +excepting the one asleep in her arms, were all grouped on the floor at +her feet. "Just so Janie would have sat, if she had lived," he thought. +"I should often have seen something like this here, as the children grew +older." And while he listened to the account given by the two boys of +their doings, he could not help looking at Emily, and thinking, as he +had sometimes done before, that she bore, in some slight degree, a +resemblance to his wife--his wife whom he had idealised a good deal +lately--and who generally, in his thought, presented herself to him as +she had done when, as a mere lad, he first saw her. A dark-haired and +grey-eyed young woman, older than himself, as a very young man's first +admiration frequently is. He felt that Emily was more graceful, had a +charm of manner and a sweetness of nature that Janie had never +possessed. He seldom allowed himself to admit even to his own mind that +his wife had been endowed with very slight powers of loving. On that +occasion, however, the fact was certainly present to his thought; "But," +he cogitated, "we had no quarrels. A man may sometimes do with but +little love from his wife, if he is quite sure she loves no other man +more." + +He started from his reverie as Crayshaw ceased to speak. "I thought you +had more sense," he said, with the smile still on his mouth that had +come while he mused on Emily. "And now don't flatter yourself that you +are to be torn from your friends and hurled on the Continent against +your will. Nothing of the sort, my boy! You have a more difficult part +to play; you are to do as you please." + +Crayshaw's countenance fell a little. + +"Is George really angry, sir?" he asked. + +"He did not seem so. He remarked that you were nearly seventeen, and +that he did not specially care about this journey." + +Something very like disappointment stole over Cray's face +then--something of that feeling which now and then shows us that it is +rather a blow to us to have, all on a sudden, what we wanted. What would +we have, then? We cannot exactly tell; but it seems _that_ was not it. + +"Your brother thought you and Johnnie might be with me, and came to ask. +I, of course, felt sure you were here. If you decide to go with him, you +are to be back by six o'clock; if not, you go to Mr. Tikey on Monday. +Now, my boy, I am not going to turn you out-of-doors. So adieu." + +Thus saying, because Emily's little charge was awake, and she had risen +and was taking leave of the girls, he brought her down-stairs, and, +wishing her good-bye' at his gate, went back to Wigfield, while she +returned home. + +This young woman, who had been accustomed to reign over most of the men +about her, felt, in her newly-learned humility, a sense of elation from +merely having been a little while in the presence of the man whom she +loved. She reflected on his musing smile, had no thought that it +concerned her, and hoped nothing better than that he might never find +out how dear he was to her. + +As for John Mortimer, he returned to the town, musing over some turn in +political affairs that pleased him, cogitating over the contents of a +bill then under discussion in Parliament, wondering whether it would get +much altered before the second reading, while all the time, half +unconsciously to himself, the scene in that other Parliament was present +to him. + +Just as a scene; nothing more. Emily sitting on his throne--his! with +his smallest child nestling in her arms, so satisfied, one knew not +which of the two had the most assured air of possession. Half unaware, +he seemed to hear again the contented sighing of the little creature in +her sleep, and Emily's low, sweet laugh when she saw his astonishment at +her presence. + +Then there was the young American stepping forward through a narrow +sunbeam into the brown shade to meet him, with such a shamefaced, boyish +air of conscious delinquency. Conscious, indeed, that he was the author +of a certain commotion, but very far, assuredly, from being conscious +that he, Gifford Crayshaw, by means of this schoolboy prank, was taking +the decisive step towards a change in the destiny of every soul then +bearing a part in it. + +John Mortimer reached the town. He had rallied the boy, and made him see +his folly. "A fine young fellow," he reflected, "and full of fun. I +don't care how often he comes here," and so in thought he dismissed +Crayshaw and his boyish escapade, to attend to more important matters. + +Emily, as she went towards home, was soon overtaken by the twins, +Johnnie, and Crayshaw. Opposition being now withdrawn, the latter young +gentleman had discovered that he ought to go with his brother, and was +moderately good-tempered about it. Johnnie Mortimer, on the other hand, +was gloriously sulky, and declined to take any notice of his +fellow-creatures, even when they spoke to him. + +At the stepping-stones over the brook, Emily parted with the young +people, receiving from Crayshaw the verses he had copied. + +"Gladys had possessed them for a week, and liked them," said the young +poet. "I meant one of them for a parody, but Mr. Mortimer said it was +not half enough like for parody, it only amounted to a kind of honest +plagiarism." + +Considering the crestfallen air of the author, and the sigh with which +he parted from her and went his way to join his brother, she was rather +surprised to find the sort of verses that they were. They were copied in +a neat, boyish hand, and read as follows:-- + + SOUVENIR OF SOUTH WALES. + + (A cad would thay "I thor.") + + But once I saw her by the stream + (A cad would say "I sor"), + Yet ofttimes of that once I dream, + That once and never more. + + By the fair flood she came to lean + (Her gown was lilac print), + And dip her pitcher down between + The stalks of water-mint. + + Then shoals of little fishes fled, + And sun-flecks danced amain, + And rings of water spread and spread + Till all was smooth again. + + I saw her somewhat towzled hair + Reflected in the brook-- + I might have seen her often there, + Only--I didn't look. + + G.C. + + * * * * * + + SONG OF THE BASEMENT STORY. + + Her mean abode was but a cell; + 'Twas lonely, chill, and drear. + Her work was all her wealth, but well + She wrought with hope and cheer. + + She, envious not of great or gay, + Slept, with unbolted doors; + Then woke, and as we Yankees say, + "Flew round" and did her chores. + + All day she worked; no lover lent + His aid; and yet with glee + At dusk she sought her home, content, + That beauteous Bumble Bee. + + A cell it was, nor more nor less. + But O! all's one to me + Whether you write it with an S, + Dear girl, or with a C. + + April 1st. + + N.B. The motto for this ought to be, "For she was a water-rat." + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +MELCOMBE. + + + "In the pleasant orchard closes + 'God bless all our gains,' say we, + But, 'May God bless all our losses,' + Better suits with our degree" + + E.B. BROWNING. + +The shade of twilight was but just fleeting, a faint glow waxed over the +eastern hills, and the great orchard of pear-trees that pressed up to +one end of Melcombe House showed white as an army of shrouded ghosts in +the dim solemnities of dawn. The house was closely shut up, and no one +met Valentine, as, tired after a night journey, he dismissed a hired fly +at the inn, and came up slowly to those grand old silent trees. + +Without sunshine, white in nature is always most solemn. Here stillness +was added; not a bird was yet awake, not a leaf stirred. A faint bluish +haze appeared to confuse the outlines of the trees, but as he lingered +looking at them and at the house which he had now fully decided to take +for his home, Mr. Melcombe saw this haze dissolve itself and retreat; +there was light enough to make the paleness whiter, and to show the +distinct brown trunk of each pear-tree, with the cushions of green moss +at its roots. Formless whiteness and visible dusk had divided themselves +into light and shade, then came a shaft of sunshine, the boughs laden +with dewy blossom sparkled like snow, and in one instant the oppression +of their solemnity was over, and they appeared to smile upon his +approach to his home. + +He had done everything he could think of, and knew not how to devise +anything further, and yet this secret, if there was one, would not come +forward and look him in the face. He had searched the house in the first +instance for letters and papers; there were some old letters, and old +papers also, but not one that did not seem to be as clear in the +innocence of its meaning as possible; there was even one that set at +rest doubt and fear which he had hitherto entertained. He had found no +closets in the wall, no locked chambers; he had met with no mysterious +silences, mysterious looks, mysterious words. Then he had gone to meet +the bereaved mother, that if she had anything to say in the way of +warning to him, or repentance for herself, he might lay himself out to +hear it; but no, he had found her generally not willing to talk, but all +she did say showed tender reverence for the dead Melcombes, and +passionate grief for her boy who had been taken, as she said, before he +was old enough even to estimate at its due value the prosperous and +happy career he had before him. He tried Laura. Laura, though sincerely +sorry for poor little Peter's death, was very sentimental; told +Valentine, to his surprise, that it was mainly on her account they had +wintered on the Continent, and with downcast eyes and mysterious +confusion that made him tremble, at first utterly declined to tell him +the reason. + +When he found, therefore, that Mrs. Melcombe did not care at present to +return to England, and was far better able than he was to arrange her +journey when she did, he might have come home at once, but for this +mystery of Laura's. And when, after cultivating his intimacy with her +for nearly a month, he at last found out, beyond a doubt, that it +related to a love affair which Amelia had not approved of, he felt as if +everything he approached, concerning the matter of his father's letter, +melted into nothingness at his touch. + +He acknowledged to himself that he should have been deeply disappointed +if he had discovered anything to justify this letter; and when the full, +low sunlight shone upon his large comfortable old house, glorified the +blossoming orchard and set off the darkness of the ancient yews, he felt +a touch of that sensation, which some people think is not fancy only. +Everything about him seemed familiar. The old-fashioned quaintness was a +part of himself. "The very first time I saw that clean, empty +coach-house," he reflected, "I felt as if I had often played in it. I +almost seemed to hear other boys shouting to me. Is it true that I never +let off squibs and crackers in that yard?" + +He walked nearer. How cheerful it all looked, swept up with extra +neatness, and made orderly for the new master's eyes! + +"By-the-bye," he thought, catching sight of a heavy old outhouse door, +"there is the ghost story. Having examined all realities so far as I +can, I will try my hand at things unreal--for even now, though I am very +grateful to Providence for such a house and such an inheritance, once +show me a good reason, and over it goes, as it should have done at +first, if my father could have given me one. That door seems just the +sort of thing for a ghost to pass through. I'll look at the book Laura +told me of, and see which door it was." + +So the house being now open, and Mr. Melcombe observed by his servants +(who alone were there to give him welcome), he entered, ordered +breakfast, which was spread for him in the "great parlour," and having +now got into the habit of making investigations, had no sooner finished +his meal than he began to look at the notes he had made from what Mrs. +Melcombe had told him of the ghost story. + +It was a story that she had not half finished when he recognised it--he +had read it with all its particulars in a book, only with the names and +localities disguised. + +"Oh, yes," she answered, when he said so. "It is very well known; it has +always been considered one of the best authenticated stories of its kind +on record, though it was not known beyond the family and the village for +several years. Augustus Melcombe, you know, was the name of the dear +grandmother's only brother, her father's heir; he was her father's only +son, two daughters born between died in infancy. That poor young fellow +died at sea, and just at the time (as is supposed) that he expired, his +wraith appeared to the old woman, Becky Maddison, then a very young +girl. I am sorry to say the old woman has made a gain of this story. +People often used to come to hear it, and she certainly does not always +tell it exactly the same. People's inquiries, I suppose, and +suggestions, have induced her to add to it; but the version I am giving +you is what she first told." + +Mrs. Melcombe mentioned the book in which Valentine would find it, and +repeated from memory the impressive conclusion, "And this story of the +young man's appearance to her had been repeatedly told by the girl +before his family became alarmed at his protracted absence. It was +during the long war, and the worst they feared was that he might have +been taken prisoner; but more than three years after a member of the +family met by accident, when some hundreds of miles away from home, a +naval officer who had sailed in the ship to which this young lieutenant +belonged, and heard from him, not without deep emotion, that at that +very time and at that very hour the youth had died at sea." + +"There is only one mistake in that version," continued Mrs. Melcombe, +"and that is, that we do not know the exact time when the young man +died. Cuthbert Melcombe was not told the month even, only the year." + +"But surely that is a very important mistake," said Valentine. + +"Yes, for those to consider who believe in supernatural stones. It is +certain, however, that the girl told this story within a day or two, and +told it often, so that it was known in the village. It is certain also +that he was at sea, and that he never came home. And it is undoubtedly +true that Cuthbert, when in London, heard this account, for he wrote his +mother home a description of the whole interview, with the officer's +name and ship. I have seen the letter, and read it over several times. +The year of the death at sea is mentioned, but not the day. Now the day +of the ghost's appearance we cannot be wrong about; it was that before +the night of the great gale which did such damage in these parts, that +for years it could not be forgotten." + +"You have read the letter, you say?" + +"Yes; it was an important one, I suppose. But I fancy that it was not +read by any one but the dear grandmother till after poor Cuthbert +Melcombe's sad death, and then I think the family lawyer found it among +her papers when she had to inherit the estate. He may have wanted +evidence, perhaps, that Augustus Melcombe was dead." + +"Perhaps so," said Valentine. "It is just of the usual sort, I see, this +story; a blue light hovering about the head. The ghost walked in his +shroud, and she saw the seams in it." + +"Yes, and then it passed through the door without opening it," added +Laura, who was present. "How dear grandmother disliked the woman! She +showed a sort of fear, too, of that door, which made us sure she +believed the story." + +"Very natural," said Mrs. Melcombe. sighing, "that she could not bear to +have her misfortunes made a subject for idle talk and curiosity. I am +sure I should feel keenly hurt if it was ever said that my poor innocent +darling haunted the place." + +"Had anything been said against him in his lifetime?" Valentine next +ventured to ask. "Had he done anything which was likely to put it into +people's heads to say he might be uneasy in his grave?" + +"Oh no, nothing of the sort," said Laura. "And then old Becky is thought +to have added circumstances to the story, so that it came from that +cause to be discredited of late. It is almost forgotten now, and we +never believed it at all; but it certainly is an odd coincidence that +she should have told it of a man who never came back to contradict her, +and who really did die, it appears, about that time." + +Valentine accordingly went in the course of a few days to find old Becky +Maddison. The cottage was not far from the village. Only the daughter +was below, and when Valentine had told his name and errand, she went +up-stairs, perhaps to prepare her mother, to whom she presently +conducted him. + +Valentine found her a poor bedridden creature, weak, frail, and +querulous. She was in a clean and moderately comfortable bed, and when +she saw him her puckered face and faded eyes began to look more +intelligent and attentive, and she presently remarked on his likeness to +his father. + +A chair was set for him, and sitting down, he showed a sovereign in his +palm, and said, "I want to hear the ghost story; tell it me as it really +was, and you shall have this." + +A shabby book was lying on the bed. + +"Her can tell it no better'n it's told here," said the daughter. + +Valentine took up the book. It was the same that he knew; the blue light +and the shroud appeared in it. He put the money into her hand. "No," he +said; "you shall have the money beforehand. Now, then, say what you +really saw." + +Old Becky clutched the gold, and said, in a weak, whimpering tone, +"'Tain't often I tell it--ain't told it sin' Christmas marnin', old +Madam couldn't abide to hear on't." + +"Old Madam's gone," said Valentine seriously. + +"Ay, her be--her wer a saint, and sings in heaven now." + +"And I want to hear it." + +Thereupon the old woman roused herself a little, and with the voice and +manner of one repeating a lesson, told Valentine word for word the +trumpery tale in the book; how she had seen Mr. Melcombe early in the +morning, as she went up to the house on washing-day, to help the +servants. For "Madam," a widow already, had leave to live there till he +should return. He was walking in his shroud among the cherry-trees, and +he looked seriously at her. She passed, but turned instantly, and he had +disappeared; he must have gone right through the crack of the door. + +Valentine was vexed, and yet relieved. Such a ridiculous tale could only +be an invention; and yet, if she would have told it in different words, +or have added anything, it might have led to some discovery--it might, +at least, have shown how it came to pass that such a story had obtained +credit. + +"That was it, was it?" he said, feigning content. "I should like to ask +you another question; perhaps your daughter will not mind going down." + +With evident reluctance the daughter withdrew. Valentine shut the door, +and came back to his place. + +Naturally enough, he cared nothing about the story; so he approached the +only thing he did care about in the matter. "I want to ask you this one +thing: a ghost, you say, appeared to you--well, what do you think it was +for--what did it want--what did it mean?" + +Evident surprise on the part of his listener. + +"It must have come for something," Valentine added, when she remained +silent. "Have you never considered what?" + +"Ay, sir, sure-ly. He came to let folks know he was gone." + +"And that was all, you think?" + +"What else could he come for?" she answered. + +"Nobody has ever said, then, that it came for anything else," thought +Valentine. "The poor ghost is not accused of any crime, and there is no +crime known of concerning the family or place that could be imputed to +him." + +"You are sure you have nothing more to say to me?" + +"Ne'er a word, sir, this blessed marnin', but thank you kindly." + +Perhaps Valentine had never felt better pleased in his life than he did +when he went down the narrow, dark stairs, after his interview with +Becky Maddison. To find that without doubt she was either a fool or an +impostor, was not what should have softened his heart and opened his +purse for her; but he had feared to encounter her story far more than he +had known himself till now that all fear was over. So when he got down +to the daughter he was gracious, and generously gave her leave to come +to the house for wine and any other comforts that the old woman might +require. "And I shall come and see her from time to time," he added, as +he went his way, for with the old woman's last word had snapped the +chain that had barred the road to Melcombe. It was his. He should +dispense its charity, pay its dues, and from henceforth, without fear or +superstition, enjoy its revenues. + +About this time something occurred at John Mortimer's house, which made +people hold up their hands, and exclaim, "What next?" + +It would be a difficult matter to tell that story correctly, considering +how many had a hand in the telling of it, and that no two of them told +it in the least degree alike; considering also that Mr. Mortimer, who +certainly could have told the greater part of it, had (so far as was +known) never told it at all. + +Everybody said he had knocked up Swan and Mrs. Swan at six o'clock one +morning, and sent the former to call up Matthew the coachman, who also +lived out of the house. "And that," said Swan, when he admitted the fact +to after questioners, "Matthew never will forgive me for doing. He hates +to get his orders through other folks, specially through me. He allus +grudges me the respect as the family can't help feeling for me. Not but +that he gets his share, but he counts nothing his if it's mine too. He'd +like to pluck the very summer out of my almanack, and keep it in his own +little back parlour." Everybody said, also, that Mrs. Swan had made the +fire that morning in Mr. Mortimer's kitchen, and that Matthew had waited +on him and his four daughters at breakfast, nobody else being in the +house, gentle or simple. + +Gentle or simple. That was certainly true, for the governess had taken +her departure two days previously. + +After this, everybody said that Matthew brought the carriage round, and +Mr. Mortimer put in the girls, and got in himself, telling Matthew to +drive to Wigfield Hall, where Mr. Brandon, coming out to meet him with a +look of surprise, he said, "Giles, we are early visitors;" and Mr. +Brandon answered, "All the more welcome, John." Everybody said also that +the four Miss Mortimers remained for several days with Mrs. Brandon, and +very happy they seemed. + +But though people knew no more, they naturally said a good deal +more--they always do. Some said that Mr. Mortimer, coming home +unexpectedly after a journey in the middle of the night, found the +kitchen chimney on fire, and some of the servants asleep on the floor, +nothing like so sober as they should have been. Others said he found a +dance going on in the servants' hall, and the cook waltzing with a +policeman, several gentlemen of the same craft being present. Others, +again, said that when he returned he found the house not only empty, but +open; that he sat down and waited, in a lowering passion, till they all +returned in two flys from some festivities at a public-house in +Wigfield; and then, meeting them at the door, he retained the flys, and +waving his hand, ordered them all off the premises; saw them very +shortly depart, and locked the doors behind them. It was a comfort to be +able to invent so many stories, and not necessary to make them tally, +for no one could contradict them; certainly not any one of the four Miss +Mortimers, for they had all been fast asleep the whole time. + +Mr. Mortimer held his peace; but while staying with Mr. and Mrs. Brandon +till he could reconstruct his household, he was observed at first to be +out of spirits, and vastly inclined to be out of temper. He did his very +best to hide this, but he could not hide a sort of look half shame, half +amusement, which would now and then steal round the corners of his +mouth, as if it had come out of some hiding-place to take a survey of +things in general. + +John Mortimer had perhaps rather prided himself on his penetration, his +powers of good government, the order and respectability of his +household, and other matters of that description. He had been taught in +rather an ignominious fashion that he had overvalued himself in those +particulars. + +He was always treated by strangers whom he employed with a great deal of +respect and deference; but this was mainly owing to a somewhat +commanding presence and a good deal of personal dignity. When the same +people got used to him, perceived the _bonhomie_ of his character, his +carelessness about money matters, and his easy household ways, they were +sometimes known to take all the more advantage of him from having +needlessly feared him at first. + +He said to Giles, "It is very evident now that I must marry. I owe it to +the mother of my children, and in fact to them." + +Mrs. Brandon said this to Mrs. Walker when, the next day, these two +ladies met, and were alone together, excepting for the presence of St. +George Mortimer Brandon, which did not signify. "The house might have +been robbed," she continued, "and the children burnt in their beds." + +"Giles told you this afterwards?" + +"Yes." + +Emily looked uncomfortable. "One never knows how men may discuss matters +when they are alone. I hope, if John ever asked advice of Giles, he +would not----" + +Here a pause. + +"He would not recommend any one in particular," said Dorothea, looking +down on her baby's face. "Oh no, I am certain he would not think of such +a thing. Besides, the idea that he had any one to suggest has, I know, +never entered his head." + +This she said without looking at Emily, and in a matter-of-fact tone. If +one had discovered anything, and the other was aware of it, she could +still here at least feel perfectly safe. This sister of hers, even to +her own husband, would never speak. + +"And that was all?" + +"No; Giles said he gave him various ludicrous particulars, and repeated, +with such a sincere sigh, 'I must marry--it's a dire necessity!' that +Giles laughed, and so did he." + +"Poor John!" said Emily, "there certainly was not much in his first +marriage to tempt him into a second. And so I suppose Giles encouraged +him, saying, as he often does, that he had never known any happiness +worth mentioning till he married." + +"Yes, dear," said Dorothea, "and he answered, 'But you did not pitch +yourself into matrimony like a man taking a header into a fathomless +pool. You were in love, old fellow, and I am not. Why, I have not +decided yet on the lady!' He cannot mean, therefore, to marry forthwith, +Emily; besides, it must be the literal truth that he has not even half +unconsciously a real preference for any one, or he could not have talked +so openly to Giles. He does not even foresee any preference." + +"But I hope to help him to a preference very soon," she thought, and +added aloud, "Dear, you will stay and dine with us?" + +Emily replied that she could not, she was to dine with a neighbour; and +she shortly departed, in possession of the most imprudent speeches John +had ever made (for he was usually most reticent), and she could not +guess of course that one of his assertions time had already falsified. +He _had_ decided on the lady. + +While the notion that he must marry had slumbered, his thought that +Emily should be his wife had slumbered also; but that morning, driving +towards Wigfield, he had stopped at his own house to give some orders, +and then had gone up into "Parliament" to fetch out some small +possessions that his twin daughters wanted. There, standing for a moment +to look about him, his eyes had fallen on his throne, and instantly the +image of Emily had recurred to him, and her attitude as she held his +little child. To give a step-mother to his children had always been a +painful thought. They might be snubbed, misrepresented to him, +uncherished, unloved. But Emily! there was the tender grace of +motherhood in her every action towards a little child; her yearning +sense of loss found its best appeasement in the pretty exactions and +artless dependence of small young creatures. No; Emily might spoil +step-children if she had them, but she could not be unkind. + +His cold opinion became a moderately pleased conviction. This was so +much the right thing, that once contemplated, it became the only thing. +He recalled her image again, as he looked at the empty throne, and he +did not leave the room till he had fully decided to set her on it. + +When John went back to dinner, he soon managed to introduce her name, +and found those about him very willing to talk of her. It seemed so +natural in that house. John recalled some of the anecdotes of her joyous +girlhood for Dorothea's benefit; they laughed over them together. They +all talked a good deal that evening of Emily, but this made no +difference to John's intention; it was fully formed already. + +So the next morning, having quite recovered his spirits, and almost +forgotten what he had said three days before to his host, he remarked to +himself, just as he finished dressing, "She has been a widow now rather +more than a year. The sooner I do it, the better." + +He sat down to cogitate. It was not yet breakfast time. "Well," he said, +"she is a sweet creature. What would I have, I wonder!" + +He took a little red morocco case from his pocket-book, and opened it. + +"My father was exceedingly fond of her," he next said, "and nothing +would have pleased him better." + +His father had inherited a very fine diamond ring from his old cousin, +and had been in the habit of wearing it. John, who never decked himself +in jewellery of any sort, had lately taken this ring to London, and left +it with his jeweller, to be altered so as to fit a lady's finger. He +intended it for his future wife. + +It had just been sent back to him. + +Some people say, "There are no fools like old fools." It might be said +with equal truth, there are no follies like the follies of a wise man. + +"I cannot possibly play the part of a lover," said Mr. Mortimer, and his +face actually changed its hue slightly when he spoke. "How shall I +manage to give it to her!" + +He looked at the splendid gem, glittering and sparkling. "And I hate +insincerity," he continued. Then, having taken out the ring, he +inspected it as if he wished it could help him, turning it round on the +tip of his middle finger. "Trust her? I should think so! Like her? Of +course I do. I'll settle on her anything Giles pleases, but I must act +like a gentleman, and not pretend to any romantic feelings." + +A pause. + +"It's rather an odd thing," he further reflected, "that so many women as +have all but asked me--so many as have actually let other women ask me +for them--so many as I know I might now have almost at a week's notice, +I should have taken it into my head that I must have this one, who +doesn't care for me a straw. She'll laugh at me, very likely--she'll +take me, though!" + +Another pause. + +"No, I won't have any one else, I'm determined. I'll agree to anything +she demands." Here a sunbeam, and the diamonds darted forth to meet one +another. The flash made him wink. "If she'll only undertake to reign and +rule, and bring up the children--for she'll do it well, and love them +too--I'm a very domestic fellow, I shall be fond of her. Yes, I know +she'll soon wind me round her little finger." Here, remembering the +sweetness of liberty, he sighed. "I'll lay the matter before her this +morning. I shall not forget the respect due to her and to myself." He +half laughed. "She'll soon know well enough what I'm come for; and if I +stick fast, she will probably help me!" He shut up the ring. "She never +has had the least touch of romance in her nature, and _she knows_ that +_I know_ she didn't love her first husband a bit." He then looked at +himself, or rather at his coat, in a long glass--it fitted to +perfection. "If this crash had not brought me to the point, I might have +waited till somebody else won her. There goes the breakfast bell. Well, +I think I am decidedly glad on the whole." + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +UNHEARD-OF LIBERTIES. + + + "If he come not then the play is marred: it goes not forward, + doth it?" + + _Midsummer Night's Dream._ + +Miss Christie Grant, sitting with Emily at ten o'clock in the morning, +heard a ring at the bell, which she thought she knew. She pricked up her +head to listen, and as it ceased tinkling she bustled out of the room. + +The first virtue of a companion in Miss Christie Grant's view, was to +know how to be judiciously absent. + +"Mr. Mortimer." + +Emily was writing, when she looked up on hearing these words, and saw +John Mortimer advancing. Of course she had been thinking of him, +thinking with much more hope than heretofore, but also with much more +pride. + +When he had stood remote, the object of such an impassioned, and to her, +hitherto, such an unknown love, which transformed him and everything +about him, and imparted to him such an almost unbearable charm--a power +to draw her nearer and nearer without knowing it, or wanting her at +all--she had felt that she could die for him, but she had not hoped to +live for him, and spend a happy life at his side. + +She did not hope it yet, she only felt that a blissful possibility was +thrown down before her, and she might take it up if she could. + +She knew that this strange absorbing love, which, like some splendid +flower, had opened out in her path, was the one supreme blossom of her +life--that life which is all too short for the unfolding of another +such. But the last few hours had taught her something more, it was now +just possible that he might pretend to gather this flower--he had +something to learn then before he could wear it, he must love her, or +she felt that her own love would break her heart. + +Emily had not one of those poverty-stricken natures which are never glad +excepting for some special reason drawing them above themselves. She was +naturally joyous and happy, unless under the pressure of an active +sorrow that shaded her sky and quenched her sunshine. She lived in an +elevated region full of love and wonder, taking kindly alike to +reverence and to hope; but she was seldom excited, her feelings were not +shallow enough to be easily troubled with excitement, or made fitful +with agitation. + +There was in her nature a suave harmony, a sweet and gracious calm, +which love itself did not so much disturb as enrich and change,--love +which had been born in the sacred loneliness of sorrow,--complicated +with tender longing towards little children, nourished in silence, with +beautiful shame and pride, and impassioned fear. + +Yet it was necessary to her, even in all withdrawal from its object, +even though it should be denied all expression for ever--necessary to +the life that it troubled and raised, and enriched, with a vision of +withheld completeness that was dimmed by the tears of her half "divine +despair." + +She rose and held out her hand, and when he smiled with a certain air of +embarrassment, she did also. She observed that he was sensitive about +the ridiculous affair which had led to his turning out his household, +besides this early call made her feel, but not in a way to discompose +her as if she were taken into the number of those ladies, among whom he +meant to make his selection. Yes, it was as she had hoped. It warmed her +to the heart to see it, but not the less was she aware of the ridiculous +side of it. A vision of long-sustained conversations, set calls, and +careful observations in various houses rose up before her; it was not in +her nature to be unamused at the peculiar position that he had confessed +to--"he had not decided on the lady." She felt that she knew more of +this than he supposed, and his embarrassment making her quite at her +ease, the smiles kept peeping out as with her natural grace she began to +talk to him. + +"Emily, you are laughing at me," he presently said, and he too laughed, +felt at ease, and yielded to the charm that few men could resist, so far +as to become at home and pleased with his hostess for making him so. + +"Of course I am, John," she answered. "I couldn't think of being +occupied with any one else just now!" + +And then they began to talk discursively and, as it were, at large. John +seemed to be fetching a wide compass. Emily hardly knew what he was +about till suddenly she observed that he had ventured on dangerous +ground, she managed to give a little twist to the conversation, but he +soon brought it back again, and she half turned, and looked up at him +surprised. + +While she occupied herself with a favourite piece of embroidery, and was +matching the silks, holding them up to the light, he had risen, and was +leaning against the side of the bay window; a frequent attitude with +him; for what are called "occasional" chairs are often rather frail and +small for accommodating a large tall man, and drawing-room sofas are +sometimes exceedingly low. In any one's eyes he would have passed for a +fine man, something more (to those who could see it) than a merely +handsome man, for the curves of his mouth had mastery in them, and his +eyes were full of grave sweetness. Emily was always delighted with the +somewhat unusual meeting in him of personal majesty, with the +good-humoured easy _bonhomie_ which had caused his late discomfiture. +She half turned, and looked up. + +"How charming she is!" he thought, as he looked down; "there will be +grace and beauty into the bargain!" and he proceeded, in pursuit of what +he considered sincere and gentlemanlike, to venture on the dangerous +ground again, not being aware how it quaked under him. + +The casual mention of some acquaintance who had lately married gave him +the chance that he thought he wanted. He would be happy enough--people +might in general be happy enough, he hinted, glancing from the +particular instance to lay down a general proposition--"if they did not +expect too much--if they were less romantic; for himself, he had not the +presumption to expect more than a sincere liking--a cordial +approval--such as he himself could entertain. It was the only feeling he +had ever inspired, or----" + +No, he did not say felt. + +But he presently alluded to his late wife, and then reverting to his +former speech, said, "And yet I was happy with her! I consider that I +was fortunate." + +"Moderate," thought Emily; "but as much as it is possible for him to +say." + +"And," he continued, "she has laid me under obligations that make it +impossible for me ever to forget her. I feel the blessing of having our +children about me. And--and also--what I owe to her on their account--I +never spend a day without thinking of her." + +"Poor Janie!" thought Emily, very much touched, "she did not deserve +this tribute. How coldly I have often heard her talk of him!" + +And then, not without a certain grave sweetness of manner that made her +heart ache, alike with tender shame to think how little her dead +husband had ever been accounted of, compared with this now possible +future one, and with such jealousy as one may feel of a dead wife who +would have cared as little for long remembrance as she had done for +living affection, Emily listened, while he managed quite naturally, and +by the slightest hints, to bring her also in--her past lot and opinions. +She felt, rather than heard, the intention; "and he could not presume to +say," he went on, "he was not sure whether a man might hope for a second +marriage, which could have all the advantages of a first. Yet he thought +that in any suitable marriage there might be enough benefit on both +sides to make it almost equally." + +"Equally what?" Emily wondered. + +John was trying to speak in a very matter-of-fact way, as merely laying +down his views. + +"Equally advantageous," he said at last; and not without difficulty. + +"John," said Emily, rallying a little, and speaking with the least +little touch of audacity,--"John, you are always fond of advancing your +abstract theories. Now, I should have thought that if a man had felt any +want in his first marriage, he would have tried for something more in a +second, rather than have determined that there was no more to be had." + +"Unless his reason assured him in more sober hours that he had had all, +and given all that could in reason be expected," John answered. "I did +not confess to having felt any want," he presently added. "Call this, +since it pleases you, my abstract theory." + +And then Emily felt that she too must speak; her dead husband deserved +it of her far more than his dead wife had ever done. + +"I do please," she answered; "this can be only an abstract theory to me. +I knew no want of love in my marriage, only a frequent self-reproach--to +think that I was unworthy, because I could not enough return it." + +"A most needless self-reproach," he answered. "I venture to hope that +people should never rebuke themselves because they happen to be +incapable of romantic passion, or any of the follies of youthful love." + +"Intended to restore my self-esteem. Shall I not soon be able to make +you feel differently?" thought Emily. "You still remember Janie; you +will never let her be disparaged. I think none the worse of you for +that, my beloved--my hope." + +He was silent till she glanced up at him again, with a sweet +wistfulness, that was rather frequent with her; turning half round--for +he stood at her side, not quite enough at his ease to look continually +in her face--he was much surprised to find her so charming, so naive in +all her movements, and in the flitting expressions of her face. + +He was pleased, too, though very much surprised, to find that she did +not seem conscious of his intention (a most lovely blush had spread +itself over her face when she spoke of her husband), but so far from +expecting what he was just about to say, she had thrown him back in his +progress more than once--she did not seem to be expecting anything. "And +yet, I have said a good deal," he reflected; "I have let her know that I +expect to inspire no romantic love, and do not pretend to be in love +with her. I come forward admiring, trusting, and preferring her to any +other woman; though I cannot come as a lover to her feet." He began to +talk again. Emily was a little startled to find him in a few minutes +alluding to his domestic discomforts, and his intention of standing for +the borough. He had now a little red box in his hand, and when she said, +"John, I wish you would not stand there," he came and sat nearly +opposite to her, and showed her what was in it--his father's diamond +ring. She remembered it, no doubt; he had just had the diamond reset. +Emily took out the ring, and laid it in her palm. "It looks small," she +said. "I should not have thought it would fit you, John." + +"Will you let me try if it will fit you?" he answered; and, before she +had recovered from her surprise, he had put it on her finger. + +There was a very awkward pause, and then she drew it off. "You can +hardly expect me," she said, and her hand trembled a little, "to accept +such a very costly present." It was not her reason for returning it, but +she knew not what to say. + +"I would not ask it," he replied, "unless I could offer you another. I +desire to make you my wife. I beg you to accept my hand." + +"Accept your hand! What, now? directly? today?" she exclaimed almost +piteously, and tears trembled on her eye-lashes. + +"Yes," he answered, repeating her words with something like ardour. +"Now, directly, to-day. I am sorely in want of a wife, and would fain +take you home as soon as the bans would let me. Emily?" + +"Why you have been taking all possible pains to let me know that you do +not love me in the least, and that, as far as you foresee, you do not +mean to love me," she answered, two great tears falling on his hand when +he tried to take hers. "John! how dare you!" + +She was not naturally passionate, but startled now into this passionate +appeal, she snatched away her hand, rose in haste, and drew back from +him with flashing eyes and a heaving bosom; but all too soon the short +relief she had found in anger was quenched in tears that she did not try +to check. She stood and wept, and he, very pale and very much +discomfited, sat before her in his place. + +"I beg your pardon," he presently said, not in the least aware of what +this really meant. "I beg--I entreat your pardon. I scarcely +thought--forgive my saying it--I scarcely thought, considering our +past--and--and--my position, as the father of a large family, that you +would have consented to any wooing in the girl and boy fashion. You make +me wish, for once in my life--yes, very-heartily wish, that I had been +less direct, less candid," he added rather bitterly. "I thought"--here +Emily heard him call himself a fool--"I thought you would approve it." + +"I do," she answered with a great sobbing sigh. Oh, there was nothing +more for her to say; she could not entreat him now to let her teach him +to love her. She felt, with a sinking heart, that if he took her words +for a refusal, and by no means a gentle one, it could not be wondered +at. + +Presently he said, still looking amazed and pale, for he was utterly +unused to a woman's tears, and as much agitated now in a man's fashion +as she was in hers, + +"If I have spoken earlier in your widowhood than you approve, and it +displeases you, I hope you will believe that I have always thought of +you as a wife to be admired above any that I ever knew." + +"My husband loved me," she answered, drying her eyes, now almost calmly. +She could not say she was displeased on his account, and when she looked +up she saw that John Mortimer had his hat in his hand. Their interview +was nearly over. + +"I cannot lose you as a friend," he said, and his voice faltered. + +"Oh no; no, dear John." + +"And my children are so fond of you." + +"I love them; I always shall." + +He looked at her for a moment, doubtful whether to hold out his hand. +"Forget this, Emily, and let things be as they have been heretofore +between us." + +"Yes," she answered, and gave him her hand. + +"Good-bye," he said, and stooped to kiss it, and was gone. + +She stood quite still listening, and yet listening, till all possible +chance was over of catching any longer the sound of his steps. No more +tears; only a great aching emptiness. The unhoped-for chance had been +hers, and she had lost it knowingly. What else could she have done? + +She scarcely knew how long she remained motionless. A world and a +lifetime of agitation, and thought, and passionate yearning seemed to +stand between her and that brief interview, before, casting her eyes on +the little velvet-covered table across which he had leaned to put it on +her hand, she saw the splendid ring; sunbeams had found it out, and were +playing on the diamond; he had forgotten it, and left it behind him, and +there was the case on the floor. It seemed to be almost a respite. + +"We are to dine with Giles and Dorothea to-day, and meet him. This +morning's work, then, is not irretrievable. I can speak now to Dorothea, +tell her what has occurred, and she will see that I have opportunity to +return him this--and---and things may end in his loving me a little, +after all. Oh, if they could--if, indeed, he had not told me he did not. +He did not look in the least angry,--only surprised and vexed when I +rejected him. He cares so little about me." + +She took up the ring, and in course of time went with her old aunt to +dine at her brother's house. She knew John was aware that he was to meet +her; she was therefore deeply disturbed, though perhaps she had no right +to be surprised when Dorothea said-- + +"We are so much disappointed! John Mortimer has sent this note to excuse +himself from coming back to dinner to-day--or, indeed, coming here at +all to-night. He has to go out, it seems, for two or three days." + +"Ay," said Miss Christie, "that's very awkward for him." Miss Christie +had built certain hopes upon that morning's visit. "It seems to me," she +continued, "that John Mortimer's affairs give him twice as much trouble +as they used to do." + +Emily was silent; she felt that _this_ was not letting things be as they +had been heretofore. She took up the note. He did not affirm that he was +obliged to go out. Even if he was, what should she do now? She was left +in custody of the ring, and could neither see him nor write to him. + +"On Sunday I shall see him. I shall have his hand for a moment; I shall +give him this, after morning service." + +But, no. Sunday came; the Mortimers were at church, but not their +father. "Father had walked over to that little chapel-of-ease beyond +Wigfield, that Grand gave the money to build," they said. "He took +Johnnie with him to day." + +"Yes," said Barbara, "and he promised next Sunday to take me." + +"He will not meet me," thought Emily. + +She waited another week, hoping she might meet him accidentally; hoping +he might come to her, hoping and fearing she hardly knew what. But still +John Mortimer made no sign, and she could not decide to write to him; +every day that she retained the ring made it more difficult for her to +return it, without breaking so the slender thread that seemed to hold +her to him still. There was no promise in it of any future communication +at all. + +In the meantime curiosity, having been once excited about John Mortimer +and his concerns, kept open eyes on him still, and soon the air was full +of rumours which reached all ears but those of the two people most +concerned. A likely thing, if there is the smallest evidence in the +world for it, can easily get headway if nobody in authority can +contradict it. + +All Wigfield said that Mr. Mortimer had "proposed" to Mrs. Walker, and +she had refused him. Brandon heard it with amazement, but could say +nothing; Miss Christie heard it with yet more; but she, too, held her +peace. + +Johnnie Mortimer heard it, made furtive observations on his father, was +pleased to think that he was dull, restless, pale--remembered his own +letter to his sisters, and considered himself to be partly to blame. +Then the twins heard it, took counsel with Johnnie, believed it also, +were full of ruth and shame. "So dear papa loved Mrs. Walker, and she +would not marry him. There could only be one reason; she knew she had +nothing to expect but rebellion and rudeness and unkindness from them. +No, papa was not at all like himself; he often sighed, and he looked as +if his head ached. They had seen in the paper that he had lost a +quantity of money by some shares and things; but they didn't think he +cared about that, for he gave them a sovereign the next day to buy a +birthday present for Janie. Father must not be made miserable on their +account. What had they better do?" + +Emily, in the meantime, felt her heart faint; this new trouble going +down to the deepest part of her heart, woke up and raised again the +half-appeased want and sorrow. Again she dreamed that she was folding +her little child in her arms, and woke to find them empty. She could not +stand against this, and decided, in sheer desperation, to quit the +field. She would go on the Continent to Justina; rest and change would +help her, and she would send back the ring, when all was arranged, by +Aunt Christie. + +She was still at her desk, having at last managed to write the note. + +She was to start the next morning. Miss Christie was then on her way to +John Mortimer with the ring, and tired with her own trouble and +indecision, she was resting in a careless attitude when she heard a +knock at the door. + +"That tiresome _boy_ again," she disrespectfully murmured, rousing up a +little, and a half smile stealing out. "What am I to do with him?" She +thought it was the new curate. "Why, Johnnie, is that you?" she +exclaimed as Johnnie Mortimer produced himself in all his youthful +awkwardness, and advanced, looking a good deal abashed. + +Johnnie replied that it was a half-holiday, and so he thought he would +come and call. + +Emily said she was glad to see him; indeed, she felt refreshed by the +sight of anything that belonged to John. + +"I thought I should like to--to--in short, to come and call," repeated +Johnnie, and he looked rather earnestly at his gloves, perhaps by way of +occupation. They were such as a Harrow boy seldom wears, excepting on +"speech day"--pale lilac. As a rule Johnnie scorned gloves. Emily +observed that he was dressed with perfect propriety--like a gentleman, +in fact; his hair brushed, his tie neat, his whole outer boy clean, and +got up regardless of trouble and expense. + +"Well, you could not have come at a better time, dear boy," said Emily, +wondering what vagary he was indulging now, "for I have just got a +present of a case of shells and birds from Ceylon, and you shall help me +to unpack and arrange them, if you like." + +"I should like to do anything you please," said Johnnie with alacrity. +"That's what I meant, that's what I came to say." Thereupon he smoothed +the nap on his "chimneypot" hat, and blushed furiously. + +The case was set upon the floor, on a piece of matting; it had already +been opened, and was filling the room with a smell of sandal-wood and +camphor. + +Emily had risen, and when she paused, arrested by surprise at the +oddness of this speech, he added, taking to his lisp again, as if from +sheer embarrassment, "Thome fellows are a great deal worse than they +theem. No, I didn't mean that; I mean thome fellows are a great deal +better than they theem." + +"Now, Johnnie," said Emily, laughing, and remembering a late visit of +apology, "if any piece of mischief has got the better of you, and your +father has sent you to say you are sorry for it, I'll forgive you +beforehand! What is it? Have you been rooting up my fences, or flooding +my paddock?" + +"It's a great deal worth than that," answered Johnnie, who by this time +was kneeling beside the case, hauling out the birds and shells with more +vigour than dexterity. + +"Nothing to do with gunpowder, I hope," said Emily with her usual +_insouciance_. + +"There are the girls; I hear them coming in the carriage," exclaimed +Johnnie by way of answer, while Emily was placing the shells on a table. +"No, father didn't send me; he doesn't know." + +"What is it, then?" she repeated, feeling more at liberty to investigate +the matter, now she had been expressly told that John had nothing to do +with it. + +On this, instead of making a direct reply, he exclaimed, looking very +red and indignant, "I told them it was no use at all my coming, and now +you see it isn't. They thaid they wouldn't come unless I did. If you +thought I should be rude, you might make me stop at school all the +holidays, or at old Tikey's; I shouldn't thay a word." + +Emily's hand was on the boy's shoulder as he knelt before the case. +Surely she understood what he meant; but if so, where could he possibly +have acquired the knowledge he seemed to possess? And even then he was +the last person from whom she could have expected this blunt, +embarrassed, promise of fealty. + +The girls entered, and the two little ones. Emily met them, and while +she gave each a kiss, Johnnie started up, and with a great war-whoop of +defiance to his sisters, burst through the open window, and blushing +hotly fled away. + +Much the same thing over again. The girls were all in their best; they +generally loved to parade the crofts and gardens clad in brown holland +and shaded by flapping hats. The children scorned gloves and all fine +clothes as much as they did the carriage; and here they were--little +Hugh in his velvet suit, looking so fair and bright-haired; Anastasia +dressed out in ribbons, and with a very large bouquet of hothouse +flowers in her hand. The girls pushed her forward. + +"It's for you," said the little girl, "and isn't it a grand one! And my +love, and we're come to call." + +"Thank you, my sweet," said Emily, accepting the bouquet, "I never saw +such a beauty!" She was sitting on a sofa, and her young guests were all +standing before her. She observed that little Hugh looked very sulky +indeed. "It's extremely unfair," he presently burst out, "they made Swan +cut the best flowers in the houses, and they gave them all to Nancy to +give, and I haven't got _none_." + +Barbara whispered to him, trying to soothe his outraged feelings, but he +kept her off with his elbow till Emily drew him near, and observed that +it was not her birthday, and therefore that one present was surely +enough. + +Barbara replied that Hughie had brought a present, but he was very cross +because it was not so pretty as Anastasia's. + +"Yes, I've brought this," said Hugh, his countenance clearing a little +as he opened his small gloved hand, and disclosed a very bright +five-shilling piece. "It's not so pretty, though, as Nannie's." + +"But it will last much longer," said Emily; "and so you meant this for +me, my sweet man. I'll take care of it for you, and look at it sometimes +till you want to spend it; that will be a very nice present for me, and +then you can have it back." + +"Papa gave it him," said Anastasia; "it's a new one. And may we go now +and look at our gardens?" + +Hugh appeared to be cogitating over Emily's proposal; his little grave +face was the image of his father's. "You may if Mrs. Nemily says so," +answered Gladys. "You always want to do what Mrs. Nemily pleases, don't +you?" + +"Oh yes," said the sprite, dancing round the room; and off they set into +the garden. + +"And so do we all," said Barbara. + +Gladys was sitting at Emily's feet now, and had a little covered basket +in her hand, which rustled as if it contained some living thing. + +"Janie and Bertie don't know--none of the little ones know," said +Barbara; "we thought we had better not tell them." + +Emily did not ask what they meant; she thought she knew. It could make +no difference now, yet it was inexpressibly sweet and consoling to her. + +"We only said we were coming to call, and when Janie saw the bouquet she +said she should send you a present too." Thereupon the basket was +opened, and a small white kitten was placed on Emily's knee. + +There seemed no part for her to play, but to be passive; she could not +let them misunderstand; she knew John had not sent them. "We should be +so glad if you came," whispered the one who held her hand. "Oh, Janie," +thought Emily, "if you could only see your children now!" + +"And when Johnnie wrote that, he didn't know it was you," pleaded the +other. + +"My darlings!" said Emily, "you must not say any more; and I have +nothing to answer but that I love you all very, very much indeed." + +"But we want you to love father too." + +Unheard-of liberty! Emily had no answer ready; but now, as she had +wondered what their mother would have felt, she wondered what John would +have felt at this utter misunderstanding, this taking for granted that +he loved her, and that she did not love him. A sensitive blush spread +itself over her face. "Your father would not be pleased, my dears," she +answered lovingly but firmly, "at your saying any more; he would think +(though I am sure you do not mean it) that you were taking a great +liberty." + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +A CHAPTER OF TROUBLES. + + + "She's daft to refuse the laird of Cockpen." + + _Scotch Ballad._ + +And now John Mortimer had again possession of his ring. Emily had sent +it, together with a little book that she had borrowed some time +previously, and the whole was so done up in stiff paper that Miss +Christie Grant supposed herself to be returning the book only. + +"So you gave it to John, auntie," said Emily, when Miss Christie came +back, "and told him I was going out, and he read the note?" + +"Yes," answered Miss Christie curtly. + +"Is he looking well?" asked Emily with a faint attempt at the tone of +ordinary interest. + +"I should say not at all; it would be queer if he was." + +"Why, Aunt Christie?" + +Miss Christie Grant paused. Confidence had not been reposed in her; to +have surprised Emily into it would have given her no pleasure; it would +have left her always suspicious that her niece would have withheld it if +she could; besides, this rumour might after all be untrue. She answered, +"Because, for one thing, he has had great, at least considerable, +losses." + +"Yes, I know," said Emily. + +"But he aye reposed great confidence in me, as a friend should." + +"Yes." + +"And so I would have asked him several questions if I had known how to +express myself; but bonds and debentures, and, above all, preference +stock, were aye great stumbling-blocks to my understanding. Men have a +way of despising a woman's notions of business matters; so I contented +myself with asking if it was true that he was arranging to take a +partner, and whether he would have to make any pecuniary sacrifice in +order to effect this? He said 'Yes;' but I've been just thinking he +meant that in confidence." + +"You shouldn't tell it to me then." + +"And then he told me (I don't know whether that was in confidence or +not), but----" + +"But what?" + +"But I don't want to have any reservations with my own niece's child, +that was always my favourite, any more than I suppose ye would have any +with me." + +Miss Christie here seemed to expect an answer, and waited long enough +for Emily to make one, if she was so minded; but as Emily remained +silent, she presently went on. + +"I made the observation that I had heard he meant to sell his late +father's house; but lest he should think I attached too much importance +to his losses, I just added that I knew his children were very well +provided for under the will. He said 'Yes.'" + +"And that was all?" asked Emily, amused at the amount of John's +confidence, and pleased to find that nothing but business had been +talked or. + +"Yes, that was all--so far as I know there was nothing more to tell; so +I just said before I came away that I was well aware my knowledge of +banking was but slender, which was reason enough for my not offering any +advice. Well, if anybody had told me ye could laugh because John +Mortimer was less prosperous than formerly, I would not have believed +it!" + +Emily made haste to look grave again. It was no secret at all that John +Mortimer meant to take a partner; and as to his losses, she did not +suppose they would affect his comfort much. + +Johnnie Mortimer, however, on hearing of them was roused to a sense of +responsibility toward his father, and as a practical proof that he and +his sisters were willing to do what they could, proposed to them that +they should give up half their weekly allowance of pocket-money. The +twins assented with filial fervour, and Johnnie explained their views to +his father, proposing that his own pony should be sold, and the money +flung into the gap. + +John was smoking a cigar in an arbour near the house when his heir +unfolded to him these plans for retrenchment. He was surprised. The boy +was so big, so clever with his lessons, and possessed so keen a sense of +humour that sometimes the father forgot his actual age, and forgot that +he was still simple in many respects, and more childlike than some other +youths. + +He did not instantly answer nor laugh (for Johnnie was exceedingly +sensitive to ridicule from him); but after a pause, as if for thought, +he assured his son that he was not in any want of money, and that +therefore these plans, he was happy to say, were not necessary. "As you +are old enough now," he added, "to take an intelligent interest in my +affairs, I shall occasionally talk to you about them." + +Johnnie, shoving his head hard against his father's shoulder, gave him +an awkward hug. "You might depend on my never telling anybody," he said. + +"I am sure of that, my boy. Your dear grandfather, a few months before +his death, gave his name to an enterprise which, in my opinion, did not +promise well. A good deal of money has been lost by it." + +"Oh," said Johnnie, and again he reflected that, though not necessary, +it would be only right and noble in him to give up his pony. + +"But I dare say you think that I and mine have always lived in the +enjoyment of every comfort, and of some luxuries." + +"Oh, yes, father." + +"Then if I tell you that I intend to continue living exactly in my +present style, and that I expect to be always entitled to do so, you +need perhaps hardly concern yourself to inquire how much I may hitherto +have lived within my income." + +Johnnie, who, quite unknown to himself, had just sustained the loss of +many thousands hitherto placed to his name, replied with supreme +indifference that he hoped he was not such a muff as to care about money +that his father did not care about himself, and did not want. Whereupon +John proceeded,-- + +"It is my wish, and in the course of a few years I hope that I shall be +able, to retire." + +"Oh," said Johnnie again, and he surprised his father to the point of +making him refrain from any further communication, by adding, "And then +you'll have plenty of time to rummage among those old Turanian verbs and +things. But, father?" + +"Yes, my boy." + +John looked down into the clear eyes of the great, awkward, swarthy +fellow, expecting the question, "Will this make much difference to my +future prospects?" But, no, what he said was, "I should like to have a +_go_ at them too. And you said you would teach me Sanscrit, if ever you +had leisure." + +"So I did," said John, "and so I will." + +To his own mind these buried roots, counted by the world so dry, proved, +as it were, appetising and attractive food. How, then, should he be +otherwise than pleased that his son should take delight in the thought +of helping him to rake them up, and arguing with him over "the ninth +meaning of a particle?" "The boy will learn to love money quite soon +enough," he thought. + +Johnnie then went his way. It was Saturday afternoon; he told his +sisters that "it was all right," and thereupon resolving no longer to +deny themselves the innocent pleasures of life, they sent little Bertram +into the town for eighteenpennyworth of "rock." + +"Where's the change?" he inquired, with the magisterial dignity +belonging to his race, when his little brother came home. + +Bertram replied with all humility that he had only, been tossing up the +fourpenny piece a few times for fun, when it fell into the ditch. He +couldn't help it; he was very sorry. + +"_Soufflez_ the fourpenny piece," said Johnnie in a burst of reckless +extravagance; "I forgive you this once. Produce the stuff." + +He felt a lordly contempt for money just then; perhaps it was wrong, but +prosperity was spoiling him. He was to retain his pony, and this amiable +beast was dear to him. + +In the meantime Valentine, established at Melcombe, had been enjoying +the sweetness of a no less real prosperity. + +From that moment, when the ghost story had melted into mist, he had +flung aside all those uneasy doubts which had disturbed his first weeks +of possession. + +He soon surrounded himself with the luxury that was so congenial to him. +All the neighbourhood called on him, and his naturally sociable temper, +amiable, domestic ways, and good position enabled him, with hardly any +effort, to be always among a posse of people who suited him perfectly. + +There were more ladies than young men in the neighbourhood. Valentine +was intimate with half-a-dozen of the former before he had been among +them three weeks. He experienced the delights of feminine flattery, a +thing almost new to him. Who so likely to receive it? He was eligible, +he was handsome, and he was always in a good humour, for the place and +the life pleased him, and all things smiled. + +In a round of country gaieties, in which picnics and archery parties +bore a far larger proportion than any young man would have cared for who +was less devoted to the other sex, Valentine passed much of his time, +laughing and making laugh wherever he went. His jokes were bandied about +from house to house, till he felt the drawback in passing for a wit. He +was expected to be always funny. + +But a little real fun goes a long way in a dull neighbourhood, and he +had learned just so much caution from his early escapade as to be +willing to hail any view concerning himself that might be a corrective +of the more true and likely one that he loved to flirt. + +He was quite determined, as he thought, not to get into another scrape, +and perhaps a very decided intention to make, in the end, an +advantageous marriage, may have grown out of the fancy that his romance +in life was over. + +If he thought so, it was in no very consistent fashion, for he was +always the slave (for the day) of the prettiest girl in every party he +went to. + +It was on a Saturday that John Mortimer received his son's proposal for +retrenchment; on the Wednesday succeeding it Valentine, sitting at +breakfast at Melcombe, opened the following letter, and was amused by +the old-fashioned formality of its opening sentence:-- + +"Wigfield, June 15th, 18--. + +"My dear Nephew,--It is not often that I take up my pen to address you, +for I know there is little need, as my niece Emily writes weekly. +Frequently have I wondered what she could find to write for; indeed, it +was not the way in my youth for people to waste so much time saying +little or nothing--which is not my case at the present time, for your +sister being gone on the Continent, it devolves upon me, that is not +used to long statements, to let ye know, what ye will be very sorry to +hear. I only hope it may be no worse before it is over. + +"Matthew, the coachman, came running over to me on Monday morning last, +and said would I come to the house, for the servants did not know what +to be at, and told me that Johnnie, who had been to go back to Harrow by +the eleven o'clock train, had got leave to drive the pheaton to the +Junction with the four girls in it, and Bertram, who, by ill luck--of I +may use such a word (meaning no irreverence)--of this dispensation of +Providence, had not gone back to Mr. Tikey's that morning. So far as I +can make out, he thought he should be late, and so he turned those two +spirited young horses down that steep sandy lane by the wood, to cut off +a corner; and whether the woodman's children ran out and frightened +them, or whether he was shouting and whooping himself, poor laddie--for +I heard something of both--but Barbara was just sobbing her heart away +when she told it, and he aye raised the echoes wherever he went; but the +horses set off, running away, tearing down that rough road. Johnnie +shouted to them all to sit still, and so they did, though they were +almost jolted out; and if they had been let alone, there might have been +no accident; but two men sprung out of a hedge and tried to stop them, +and they turned on to the common, and sped away like the wind towards +home, till they came to the sand bank by the small inn, the Loving Cup, +and there they upset the carriage, and when the two men got up to it +Johnnie and all of them were tossed out, and the carriage was almost +kicked to pieces by the horse that was not down. + +"This is a long tale, Valentine, and I seem to have hardly begun it. I +must take another sheet of paper. When I got to the house, you never saw +such a scene. Johnnie had been brought in quite stunned, and his face +greatly bruised. There were two doctors already with them. Bertram had +got a broken arm; he was calling out, poor little fellow, and Nancy was +severely hurt, but I was grieved to see her so quiet. Gladys seemed at +first to be only bruised and limping; but she and Barbara were faint and +sick with fright. Janie was not present; she had been carried into the +inn; but I may as well tell ye that in her case no bones were broken, +poor lamb. She is doing very well, and in a day or two is to be brought +home. + +"It was a very affecting scene, as ye may suppose, and my first words +were, 'Who is to tell this to Mr. Mortimer?' They said your brother has +already gone to fetch him and prepare him. Well, I knew everything that +was in the house, and where it was kept; so I'm thankful to think I was +of use, and could help the new governess and the strange servants. + +"Dorothea and Mrs. Henfrey soon came in, and by the time John arrived +all the invalids had been carried up-stairs, and Johnnie had begun to +show signs of consciousness. + +"John was as white as chalk. He was rather strange at first; he said in +a commanding, peremptory way, that he wouldn't be spoken to; he wouldn't +hear a word; he was not ready. Everybody stood round, till Dorothea +disobeyed him; she said, 'They are all living, dear Mr. Mortimer;' and +then Giles got him to sit down, and they gave him some water to drink. + +"He then noticed Dr. Limpsy, who had come down, and asked if any of them +were in danger, and the doctor said yes--one. So he said he prayed God +it was not his eldest son: he could bear anything but that. And yet when +the doctor said he had every hope that Johnnie would do well, but he had +great fears for the little Anastasia, he burst into tears, poor man, and +said that of all his children she would be the hardest to spare. But I +need not tell ye we did not remind him of the inconsistency, and were +glad to think he was not to lose the one he set his heart most upon. And +after that he was perfectly himself and more composed than anybody, +which is a wonder, for such a catalogue of broken bones and sprains and +contusions as came to light as the doctors examined further, was enough +to disturb anybody's courage. Giles sat up with Johnnie all night; +indeed nobody went to bed. John was by Nancy, and in the morning they +spoke hopefully of her. Johnnie's first words were about his father; he +couldn't bear his father near him, because now and then he was surprised +into shouting out with pain, and he wouldn't have John distressed with +his noise. He was nothing like so well as we had hoped this morning; but +still the doctors say there is no danger. He got a kick from the horse +when he was down, and he thinks he fainted with the pain. When John came +down to get a little breakfast he was very much cheered to have a better +account than he had expected of Nancy, and he made the remark that ye +would be sorry to hear of this; so I said I would write, which I am +doing, sitting beside little Bertram, who is asleep.--I am + +"Your mother's affectionate aunt, and always affectionately yours, + +"CHRISTIAN GRANT." + +Valentine read the letter, and thought that if it had not been for two +or three picnic parties that he had on hand, he would have gone down to +his old home, to see whether he could be of use to John Mortimer. He +wrote to him, and resolved to wait a day or two; but he heard nothing +till after the succeeding Sunday; then a telegram came from Emily:--"Two +of John's children are extremely ill. I think your presence might be +useful." + +Emily had come home then. + +Valentine set forth at once, and reached John Mortimer's house in the +afternoon. A doctor's carriage stood at the door; a strange +lady--evidently a nurse--passed through the hall; people were quietly +moving about, but they seemed too anxious, and too much occupied to +observe him. + +At last Emily came down. + +"Is Johnnie worse?" asked Valentine. + +"Yes; but I wanted you to help us with John. Oh, such a disaster! On the +third night after the accident, just before I arrived--for Dorothea had +sent for me--every one in the house was greatly tired; but Johnnie and +Anastasia were both thought better; so much better that the doctors said +if there was no change during the night, they should consider dear +little Nancy quite out of danger. Giles and Dorothea had gone home. The +nurse sent for was not come. John knew how fatigued the whole household +was, and all who were sitting up. He had not been able to take any sleep +himself, and he was restlessly pacing up and down in the garden, +watching and listening under the open windows. It was very hot. + +"He fancied about three o'clock that there had been a long silence in +Anastasia's room. She was to have nourishment frequently. He stole +up-stairs, found the person with her asleep from fatigue, gave the child +some jelly himself, and then finding her medicine, as he supposed, ready +poured out in the wine-glass, he gave it to her, and discovered almost +instantly a mistake. The sad imprudence had been committed of pouring +the lotion for the child's temples into a wine-glass, to save the +trouble of ringing for a saucer. The child was almost out of danger +before that terrible night; but when I came home there was scarcely a +hope of her life, and her father was almost distracted. I mean that, +though he seems perfectly calm, never loses his self-control, he is very +often not able to command his attention so as to answer when they speak +to him, and he cannot rest a moment. He spent the whole of last night +wandering up and down the garden, leaning on St. George's arm. He cannot +eat nor occupy himself, and the doctors begin to be uneasy about him. +Oh, it is such a misfortune! + +"And Johnnie is very ill," continued Emily, tears glittering on her +eyelashes; "but John seems to take it all with perfect composure. +Everything else is swallowed up in his distress of mind for what he has +unfortunately done. If the child dies, I really think he will not get +over it." + +Some one called Emily, and she passed up-stairs again. Valentine turned +and saw John near him; he came forward, but attempted no greeting. "I +thought I might be of use, John," he said, as if they had seen one +another but the day before. "Is there anything I can do for you over at +the town?" + +Valentine was a little daunted at first at the sight of him; his face +was so white and he showed so plainly the oppression that weighed down +his soul by the look in his eyes; they were a little raised, and seemed +as if they could not rest on anything near at hand. + +Valentine repeated his words, and was relieved when John roused himself, +and expressed surprise and pleasure at seeing him. He sent Valentine to +one of his clerks for some papers to be signed, gave him other +directions, and was evidently the better for his presence. + +It was not without many strange sensations that Valentine found himself +again in that room where he had spent such happy hours, and which was so +connected with his recollections of his old uncle. The plunge he had +taken into the sweet waters of prosperity and praise had made him +oblivious of some things that now came before his thoughts again with +startling distinctness; but on the whole he felt pleasure in going back +to the life that he had elected to leave, and was very glad to forget +John's face in doing what he could to help him. + +When he returned to the house John had commenced his restless walk +again. Swan was walking beside him, and he was slightly leaning his hand +on the old man's shoulder, as if to steady himself. + +Valentine drew near. + +"And you are sure he said nothing more?" John was saying in the low +inward tone of fatigue and exhaustion. + +"No, sir. 'Tell Mr. Mortimer,' says he, 'that his son is considerable +better,' and he told Mrs. Walker--I heard him say it--that the blessed +little one was no worse, not a morsel worse." + +Valentine paused and heard John speak again in that peculiar tone--"I +have no hope, Swan." + +"I wouldn't give up, sir, if I was you: allers hold on to hope, sir." + +"I cannot stand the strain much longer," he continued, as if he had not +listened, "but sometimes--my thoughts are often confused--but sometimes +I feel some slight relief in prayer." + +"Ay, sir," answered Swan, "the Scripture says, 'Knock, and it shall be +opened to you,' and I've allers thought it was mighty easier for one +that begs to go and knock there than anywhere else, for in that house +the Master opens the door himself." + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +A WOMAN'S SYMPATHY. + + + "Midsummer night, not dark, not light. + Dusk all the scented air, + I'll e'en go forth to one I love, + And learn how he doth fare. + O the ring, the ring, my dear, for me, + The ring was a world too fine, + I wish it had sunk in a forty-fathom sea, + Or ever thou mad'st it mine. + + "Soft falls the dew, stars tremble through, + Where lone he sits apart, + Would I might steal his grief away + To hide in mine own heart. + Would, would 'twere shut in yon blossom fair, + The sorrow that bows thy head, + Then--I would gather it, to thee unaware, + And break my heart in thy stead. + + "That charmed flower, far from thy bower, + I'd bear the long hours through, + Thou should'st forget, and my sad breast + The sorrows twain should rue. + O sad flower, O sad, sad ring to me. + The ring was a world too fine; + And would it had sunk in a forty-fathom sea, + Ere the morn that made it mine." + +Ten o'clock on the succeeding night. It seemed an age to John Mortimer +since Valentine had met him in the hall, a night and a day that were +almost a lifetime had come between; but his thoughts were not confused +now. Something awful but fresh, breaking across his distracted mind, had +diverted the torrent of his despairing fear lest his child should die +through his mistake, and though he had bowed down his head and wept +since the unexpected loss of another, those were healing tears, for with +them came for a time escape from the rending strain that was breaking +him down. + +A sudden noise, when all was so quiet, and some one running down the +garden, had startled him. + +He tried to recall it. Valentine was with him, having just come back +from the town, and one of the doctors was coming up; he took him by the +hand. Other people were about him before he had time to think. Some of +them were in tears. No, it was not Anastasia; he recollected how they +kept telling him that it was not Anastasia, and then that they wished +him to leave the house, though she was still in such imminent +danger--leave the house and go to the inn. He could not receive a new +thought suddenly. Why should he go to the inn? He was not anxious about +his little Janie; he had not seen her for two or three days, but he +could not leave the house now. + +And yet he saw that he must do it. He was walking among the others to a +carriage in the yard. He believed nothing; it was only as they drove +along that he could understand the doctor's words--a change. They had +feared that there might be an internal injury; he was to remember that +they had mentioned to him some symptoms which should have made him aware +of their solicitude. All very slowly, very cautiously said, but till he +saw his child he did not believe a word of it. + +The little face looked restless and troubled. Dorothea was sitting at +her side fanning her. "Dear papa's come," she said, and then the child +looked gravely satisfied, and for a long time she seemed to derive a +quiet satisfaction from gazing at him. Then, by slow degrees, she fell +into a deep sleep. He was so thankful to see it, and yet no one +comforted him with any hopeful words. And it must have been a long time, +for all the west was orange when some one woke him from an exhausted +doze, his first dream since his great misfortune. + +All his children were well again. They were all present but Janie. +Anastasia was sitting on his knees, rosy and smiling. "Did she know," he +seemed to ask her, "what her poor father had done to her?" and while he +felt this peace and joy of recovering her, some one touched his arm, and +the dream was gone. He started and woke. Janie, yes, little Janie was +there. "Do you want me, my darling?" were his first words, before he had +quite dismissed the delusive comfort of that dream. + +A remarkable, a perfectly indescribable change had come over the little +face, it looked so wise. "You'd better kiss me now," she said, with a +wistful, quaint composure. + +"Yes, my treasure." + +"I can't say my prayers to-night, papa," she presently added, "I suppose +you'll have to say them for me." And before he could believe that he +must part with her she was gone. + +Little Janie, his little Janie. As he sat in the dusk that night he +repeated her name many, many times, and sometimes added that she was his +favourite child, the only one who in character and mind resembled her +mother. + +She was a quaint, methodical little creature. She had kept an +account-book, and he had found it, with all its pretty, and now most +pathetic little entries. He had put it in his breast-pocket, and his +hand sought it every few minutes as he sat in the long dusk of the +midsummer night. This was the first gap in his healthy, beautiful +family. He felt it keenly, but a man who has six children left does not +break his heart when he has to give one of them back to God. + +No; but he was aware that his heart was breaking, and that now and then +there came intervals in his sleepless nights and days when he did not +feel at all or think at all. Sometimes for a few minutes he could not +see. After these intervals of dull, amazed quiescence, when he was +stupid and cold even to the heart, there were terrible times when he +seemed to rouse himself to almost preternatural consciousness of the +things about him, when the despair of the situation roused up like a +tiger, and took hold of him and shook him body and mind. + +It was true, quite true, his carelessness (but then he had been so worn +out with watching), his fatal mistake, his heartless mistake (and yet he +would almost have given his own life for his children) had brought him +down to this slough of despond. There was no hope, the doctors never +told him of any, and he knew he could not bear this much longer. + +There are times when some of us, left alone to pull out again our past, +and look at it in the light of a present, made remorseless and cruel +with the energy that comes of pain, are determined to blame ourselves +not only for the present misfortune, but to go back and back, and see in +everything that has gone wrong with us how, but for our own fault, +perversity, cowardice, stupidity, we might have escaped almost all the +ills under which we now groan. + +How far are we right at such times? Most of us have passed through them, +and how much harder misfortune is to bear when complicated with the +bitterness of self-reproach and self-scorn! + +It was not dark. John Mortimer remembered that this was Midsummer night. +A few stars were out; the moon, like a little golden keel, had gone +down. Quantities of white roses were out all over the place. He saw them +as faint, milky globes of whiteness in the dusk. + +There were lights in the opened rooms up-stairs. It was very hot; +sometimes he saw the nurses passing about. Presently he saw Emily. She +was to be one of the watchers that night with Anastasia. + +The little creature a day or two after her accident, finding fault with +every one about her, and scarcely conscious that her own pain was to +blame because they could not please her, had peevishly complained that +she wanted Mrs. Nemily. Mrs. Nemily was a kind lady, and could tell her +much prettier stories, and not give her such nasty things to drink. + +Emily was instantly made aware of this, but when she arrived her little +charge was past noticing any one. And yet Emily was full of hope. +Impassioned and confiding prayer sustained her courage. She had always +loved the little one keenly, and desired now with indescribable longing +that her father might be spared the anguish of parting with her thus. + +Yes, there was Emily; John Mortimer saw her move toward the window, and +derived some faint comfort from the knowledge that she would be with +Anastasia for the night. + +Lovely, pale, and calm, he saw and blessed her, but she could not see +him; and as she retired she too was added to the measure of his +self-reproaches. He had lost her, and that also he had but himself to +thank for; he himself, and no other, was to blame for it all. + +He loved her. Oh yes, he had soon found out that he loved her! Fool! to +have believed that in the early prime of his life the deepest passions +of humanity were never to wake up again and assert themselves, because +for the moment they had fallen into a noonday sleep. Fool, doubly fool, +to have prided himself on the thought that this was so; and more than +all a fool, to have let his scorn of love appear and justify itself to +such a woman as Emily. Lovely and loving, what had he asked of her? +which was to be done without the reward of his love. To bring up for him +another woman's children, to manage a troublesome household, to let him +have leisure and leave to go away from her from time to time, that he +might pursue his literary tastes and his political destiny, to be +responsible, to be contented, and to be lost, name and ambition, in him +and his. + +All this had flashed across his mind, and amazed him with his own +folly, before he reached the town on the morning that he left her. But +that was nothing to the knowledge that so soon followed, the discovery +that he loved her. For the first time in his life it seemed to be his +part in creation to look up, and not to look down. He wrestled with +himself, and fought with all his power against this hopeless passion; +wondered whether he had done his cause irretrievable mischief by +speaking too soon, as well as by speaking amiss; seldom hoped at all, +for he had been refused even with indignation; and never was less able +to withdraw his thoughts from Emily, even for a moment, than when he +felt most strongly that there was no chance for him at all. + +Still they went on and on now, his thoughts of her; they gave poignancy +to all his other pain. The place, the arbour where he sat, had become +familiar to him of late. He had become used to wander and pace the +garden at night some time before this accident. Hour after hour, night +after night, he had gone over the matter; he had hardly decided to go +back to her, and implore her to give him a chance of retrieving his +deplored mistake, when she sent him back his ring, and early the next +morning was gone. + +That was all his own fault, and but for it he now thought he should not +have been so unobservant of things about him. Could he, but for such +weary nights of sleepless wandering and watching, have let his darling +boy drive those young horses, filling the carriage so full of his +brothers and sisters that there was no room for any beside him whose +hands were strong enough to hold them in? He was not sure. His clearer +thought would not consent to admit that he could have foreseen the +danger, and yet he had been so accustomed to hold things in hand, and +keep them safe and secure, that he could hardly suppose they would not, +but for his own state of mind, have been managed better. + +It was midnight now; he had no intention of coming indoors, or taking +any rest, and his thoughts went on and on. When the misfortune came, it +was still his own perturbation of mind, which had worn and fretted him +so that he could not meet it as he might have done. This woman, whom he +loved as it seemed to him man had never loved before, had taken herself +out of his reach, and another man would win her. How could he live out +the rest of his days? What should he do? + +It was because that trouble, heaped upon the other, had made it hard to +give his mind to the situation, that he had not forced himself to take +rest, and what sleep he could, instead of wasting his powers in restless +watching, till his overwrought faculties and jaded eyes had led him to +the fearful moment when he had all but killed his own child. + +Emily had scarcely spoken to him since her arrival. All her thoughts +were for her little favourite. Perhaps even, she saw little in this +fatal carelessness at all out of keeping with his character, as she had +lately thought of it. No, his best chances in this life were all brought +to an end; the whole thing was irretrievable. + +"Is that Valentine?" he asked as some one approached. + +"Yes, it is past one o'clock. I am going to bed; I suppose you will +too." + +"No," he answered in the dull inward voice now become habitual with him. +"Why should I come in? Val, you know where my will is?" + +"Yes," said Valentine, distressed to hear him say it. + +"If you and Giles have to act, you will find everything in order." + +"What is to be done for him?" thought Valentine. "Oh for a woman to talk +to him now!--I cannot." He took to one of the commonplaces of admonition +instead: "Dear John, you must try and submit yourself to the will of +God." + +"You have no need to tell me of that," he answered with the same +dimness of speech. "I do not rebel, but I cannot bear it. I mean," he +continued, with the calmest tone of conviction, "that this is killing +me." + +"If only the child might be taken," thought Valentine, "he would get +over it. It is the long suspense that distracts him." + +"They want you to come in and eat something," he urged, "there is supper +spread in the dining-room." + +"No, I cannot." + +He meant, "I cannot rise from my seat." Valentine supposed him only to +say as usual that he could not eat. + +"My mind wanders," he presently added, in the same low dull tone; and +then repeated what he had said to his old gardener, "But sometimes I +find relief in prayer." + +Valentine went in rather hastily; he was alarmed not so much at the +words as at his own sudden conviction that there was a good deal in +them. They might be true. He must find some one to console, to talk to +him, some one that could exercise influence over him. He knew of no one +but Emily who would be likely to know what to say to him, and he hung +about on the stairs, watching for her, hoping she would come out of +little Anastasia's room; but all was so quiet, that he hoped the little +sufferer might be asleep, and he dared not run the least risk of waking +her. + +It was now two o'clock. + +John Mortimer saw some one holding aside a dark dress, and moving down +the rose-covered alley towards him. It was not dark, and yet everything +looked dim and confused. The morning star was up, it seemed to tremble +more than usual; he knew he should not see it set, it would go out in +its place, because the dawn came so early. + +He knew it was Emily. "Only one thing could have brought her," he said +in his dull tone, and aloud. "The end is come." + +But no, she was at his side. Oh what a sweet tone! So clear and +thrilling, and not sad. + +"The darling is just as usual, and I have brought you some coffee; drink +it, dear John, and then come in and take some rest." + +"No," he answered in a low tone, husky and despairing. + +She made out that he was sitting on the wooden bench his boys had carved +for him. It had only been placed there a few days, and was finished with +an elbow, on which he was leaning his arm. It was too low to give him +much support. She came to his side, the few trembling stars in the sky +gave scarcely any light. Standing thus, and looking at the same view +that was before him, she saw the lighted windows of the children, +Johnnie's, little Bertram's, and Anastasia's. Three or four stars +trembling near the horizon were southing fast. One especially bright and +flickering was about, it was evident, in a few minutes to set; as far as +she could see, John was gazing at it. She hoped he was not linking with +it any thought of the little tender life so likely also to set. She +spoke to him again in tones of gentle entreaty, "Take this cup, dear +John." + +"I cannot," he answered. + +"Cannot!" she said, and she stooped nearer, but the dimness hid his +face. + +"No; and something within me seems to be failing." + +There was that in the trembling frame and altered voice that impressed +her strangely. What was failing? Had the springs of life been so +strained by suffering that there was danger lest they should break? + +Emily did not know; but everything seemed to change for her at that +moment. It was little to her that he should discover her love for him +now; but he would not, or, if he did, he was past caring, and he had +been almost forgotten by those about him, though his danger was as great +as that of any. He had been left to endure alone. She lifted the cup to +his lips, and thought of nothing, and felt nothing, but the one supreme +desire to console and strengthen. + +"She will die, Emily," he found voice enough to say when the cup was +empty; "and I cannot survive her." + +"Yes, you can; but I hope she will not die, dear John. Why should she +live so long, to die after all?" + +She leaned toward him, and, putting her arms about him, supported his +head on her shoulder, and held it there with her hand. At least that +once her love demanded of her that she should draw near. _She_ should +not die; perhaps there was a long life before her; perhaps this might be +the only moment she might have to look back to, when she had consoled +and satisfied her unheeded heart. + +"Have you so soon forgotten hope?" she said as she withdrew her arms. + +"I thought I had." + +"They always say she is not worse; not to be worse is to be better." + +"They never say that, and I shall not forgive myself." + +"No?" she exclaimed, and sighed. There was, indeed, so little hope, and +if the child died, what might not be feared for the father? "That is +because, though you seem a reverent and sincere Christian, you do not +believe with enough reality that the coming life is so much sweeter, +happier, better, than this. Few of us can. If you did, this tragedy +could not fold itself down so darkly over your head. You could not bring +yourself almost to the point of dying of pity and self-blame, because +your child is perhaps to taste immortal happiness the sooner for your +deplored mistake. Oh! men and women are different." + +"You do not think you could have outlived a misfortune so irreparable?" + +"I do think so. And yet this is sad; sometimes I cannot bear to think of +it. Often I can find in my heart to wish that I might have handed that +glass in your stead. Even if it had broken my heart, I stand alone; no +other lives depend on me for well-being, and perhaps for well-doing. +Cannot you think of this, dear John, and try to bear it and overlive it +for their sakes? Look, day begins to dawn, and the morning star +flickers. Come in; cannot you rise?" + +"I suppose not; I have tried. You will not go?" + +"Yes; I may be wanted." + +"You have no resentments, Emily?" + +"Oh no," she answered, understanding him. + +"Then give me one kiss." + +"Yes." She stooped again toward him and gave it. "You are going to live, +John, and serve and love God, and even thank Him in the end, whatever +happens." + +"You are helping me to live," he answered. + +It seemed impossible to him to say a single word more, and she went back +towards the house again, moving more quickly as she drew near, because +the sound of wheels was audible. As for him, he watched in the solemn +dawn her retiring figure with unutterable regret. His other despair, who +had talked to him of hope and consoled him with a simple directness of +tender humanity, given him a kiss because he asked it. He had often +wanted a woman's caressing affection before, and gone without it. It +promised nothing, he thought; he perceived that it was the extremity she +saw in the situation that had prompted it. When she next met him she +would not, he knew, be ashamed of her kiss. If she thought about it, she +would be aware that he understood her, and would not presume on it. + +The spots of milky whiteness resolved themselves again into blush roses; +hundreds and hundreds of them scented the air. Overhead hung long +wreaths of honeysuckle; colours began to show themselves; purple iris +and tree peony started out in detached patches from the shade; birds +began to be restless; here and there one fluttered forth with a few +sudden, imperfect notes; and the cold curd-like creases in the sky took +on faint lines of gold. And there was Emily--Emily coming down the +garden again, and Giles Brandon with her. Something in both their faces +gave him courage to speak. + +"St. George, you are not come merely to help me in. I heard wheels." + +Emily had moved a step forward; it was light enough now to show her face +distinctly. The doctors had both paid a visit; they came together, she +told him. + +"It was very good of them; they are more than considerate," he answered, +sure that the news could not be bad. + +"They both saw Anastasia, and they agreed that there was a decided +improvement." + +"I thank God." + +With the aid of hope and a strong arm he managed to get up and stagger +towards the house; but having once reached his room, it was several days +before he could leave it or rise, though every message told of slow +improvement. + +A strange week followed the return of hope. The weeds in the garden +began to take courage after long persecution, while Mr. Swan might +frequently be seen reading aloud by Johnnie's bedside, sometimes the +Bible, sometimes the newspaper, Master A.J. Mortimer deriving in his +intervals of ease a grave satisfaction from the old man's peculiar style +and his quaint remarks. + +"I'm allers a comfort to them boys," Swan was heard to remark in the +middle of the night, when Valentine, who was refreshing himself with a +short walk in the dark, chanced to be near him as he came on with his +wife. + +"And how do you get on, Maria?" + +"Why, things seem going wrong, somehow. There's that new nurse feels +herself unwell, and the jelly's melted, and Miss Christie was cross." + +"That's awkward; but they're trifles. When the mud's up to your neck, +you needn't trouble yourself because you've lost your pattens. You want +a night's rest, my dear." + +"Ay, I do; and don't you worrit, Swan, over Matthew being so _ugly_ with +you." + +"Certainly not," said Swan. "He's turned more civil too. Said he to me +this morning, 'Misfortunes in this life is what we all hev to expect. +They ought not to surprise us,' said he; 'they never surprise me, nor +nothing does.' It's true too. And he's allers for making a sensible +observation, as he thinks (that shows what a fool he is). No, if he was +to meet a man with three heads, he wouldn't own as he was surprised; +he'd merely say, 'You must find this here dispensation very expensive in +hats.'" + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +MR. BRANDON IS MADE THE SUBJECT OF AN +HONOURABLE COMPARISON. + + +John Mortimer, thanks to a strong frame and an excellent constitution, +was soon able to rise. He stood by his little Janie when she was laid in +the grave, and felt, when he could think about it, how completely he and +his had been spared the natural sorrow they would have suffered by the +overshadowing gloom of greater misfortunes. + +There was no mother to make lamentation. It was above all things needful +to keep up Johnnie's spirits, and not discourage him. He had gone +through a harder struggle for his life than his father knew of; but the +sight of his pinched features and bright, anxious eyes began only now to +produce their natural effect. John always came into his room with a +serene countenance, and if he could not command his voice so as to speak +steadily and cheerfully, he sat near him, and was silent. + +There was little sign of mourning about the place. Never did a beautiful +little promising life slip away so unobserved. Anastasia did not even +know that her companion was gone. She was still not out of danger, and +she wanted a world of watching and comforting and amusing. + +They all wanted that. John, as he passed from room to room, strangely +grateful for the care and kindness that had come into his house almost +unbidden, was sometimes relieved himself in listening to the talk that +went on. + +Only two of his children were quite unhurt; these were Barbara (and she +found quite enough occupation in waiting on her twin sister) and little +Hugh, who sometimes wandered about after his father almost as +disconsolate as himself, and sometimes helped to amuse Bertram, showing +him pictures, while Miss Christie told him tales. Master Bertram +Mortimer, having reached the ripe age of nine years, had come to the +conclusion that it was _muffish_--like a _cad_, like a girl--to cry. So +when his broken arm and other grievances got beyond his power of +endurance, he used to call out instead, while his tender-hearted little +brother did the crying for him, stuffing his bright head into the +pillows and sobbing as if his heart would break. + +On one of these occasions John drew the child away and took him +downstairs. "I'm crying about Janie too," he said, creeping into his +father's arms to be consoled, and not knowing the comfort this touch of +natural sorrow had imparted to an over-strained heart. + +The weather was unusually hot for the time of year, the doors and +windows stood open, so that John could pass about as he pleased; he +judged by the tone of voice in which each one spoke whether things were +going well or not. After he had sent little Hugh to bed that evening he +went upstairs and sat in a staircase window, in full view of Johnnie's +room. Swan was talking by the boy's bedside, while Johnnie seemed well +content to listen. Little notice was taken when he appeared, and the +discourse went on with quiet gravity, and that air of conviction which +Swan always imparted to his words. + +"Ay, sir, Mr. Fergus will have it that the cottagers are obstinate +because they wont try for the easy things as he wants them to. The +common garden stuff they show has allers been disgraceful, and yet, +sometimes they interfere with him and take a prize for flowers. 'That +shows they know their own business,' says I; 'it don't follow that +because my parrot can talk, my dog's obstinate because he won't learn +his letters.' 'Mr. Swan,' says he, 'you're so smothered in +illustrations, there's no argufying with you.' Master Johnnie, you was +to drink your beef tea by this time." + +"Not just yet. I hate it. Tell me the rest about Fergus." + +"'Well,' he said, 'I mean no disrespect to you, Mr. Swan.' 'No?' says I. +'No,' said he, 'but you and I air that high among the competitors that +if we didn't try against one another we could allers hev it our own way. +Now, if you'll not show your piccatees this time, I'll promise you not +to bring forrard so much as one pelagonium.'" + +"The cheat!" exclaimed Johnnie. "Why we have none worth mentioning, and +the piccatees are splendid, Swanny." + +"That's it, sir. He'd like me to keep out of his way, and then, however +hard it might be on the other gardeners, he'd have all the county prizes +thrown open to the cottagers, that's to say, those he doesn't want +himself. He's allers for being generous with what's not his. He said as +much to me as that he wished this could be managed. He thought it would +be handy for us, and good for the poor likewise. 'That,' I says, 'would +be much the same as if a one-legged man should steal a pair of boots, +and think to make it a righteous action by giving away the one he didn't +want in charity.' As he was so fond of illustrations, I thought I'd give +him enough of them. 'Mr. Swan,' says he, rather hot, 'this here is very +plain speaking.' 'I paid for my pipe myself,' says I, 'and I shall smoke +it which side my mouth I please.' So now you know why we quarrelled, +sir. It's the talk of all the country round, and well it may be, for +there's nobody fit to hold a candle to us two, and all the other +gardeners know it." + +"I'll drink the stuff now," said Johnnie. "Father, is that you?" + +"Yes, my dearest boy." + +"You can't think how well I feel tonight, father. Swanny, go down and +have some supper, and mind you come again." + +"Ay, to be sure, Mr. Johnnie." + +"You're not going to sit up tonight, my good old friend," said John, +passing into the room. + +"Well, no, sir, Mr. Johnnie hev cheated the doctor to that extent that +he's not to hev anybody by him this night, the nurse is to come in and +give him a look pretty frequent, and that's all." + +John came and sat by his boy, took his thin hand, and kissed him. + +"It's a lark, having old Swanny," said the young invalid, "he's been +reading me a review of Mr. Brandon's book. He told Val that Smiles at +the post office had read it, and didn't think much of it, but that it +showed Mr. Brandon had a kind heart. 'And so he has,' said Swan, 'and he +couldn't hide that if he wished to. Why, he's as good as a knife that +has pared onions, sir,--everything it touches relishes of 'em.'" + +"You had better not repeat that to Mr. Brandon," said John, "he is +rather touchy about his book. It has been very unfavourably reviewed." + +"But Swan intended a compliment," answered Johnnie, "and he loves +onions. I often see him at his tea, eating slices of them with the bread +and butter. You are better now, dear father, are you not?" + +"Yes, my boy. What made you think there was anything specially the +matter with me?" + +"Oh, I knew you must be dreadfully miserable, for you could hardly take +any notice even of me." + +A small shrill voice, thin and silvery, was heard across the passage. + +"Nancy often talks now," said Johnnie; "she spoke several times this +morning." + +John rose softly and moved towards it. "And what did the robin say +then," it asked. Emily's clear voice answered, "The robin said, 'No, my +wings are too short, I cannot fly over the sea, but I can stop here and +be very happy all the winter, for I've got a warm little scarlet +waistcoat.' Then the nightingale said, 'What does winter mean? I never +heard of such a thing. Is it nice to eat?" + +"That was very silly of the nightingale," answered the little voice. The +father thought it the sweetest and most consoling sound he had ever +heard in his life. "But tell the story," it went on peremptorily in +spite of its weakness, "and then did the robin tell him about the snow?" + +"Oh yes; he said, 'Sometimes such a number of little cold white feathers +fall down from the place where the sun and moon live, that they cover up +all the nice seeds and berries, so that we can find hardly anything to +eat. But,' the robin went on, 'we don't care very much about that. Do +you see that large nest, a very great nest indeed, with a red top to +it?' 'Yes,' the nightingale said he did. 'A nice little girl lives +there,' said the robin. 'Her name is Nancy. Whenever the cold feathers +come, she gives us such a number of crumbs.'" + +"Father, look at me," said the little creature, catching sight of her +father. "Come and look at me, I'm so grand." She turned her small white +face on the pillow as he entered, and was all unconscious both how long +it was since she had set her eyes on him, and the cause. Emily had been +dressing a number of tiny dolls for her, with gauzy wings, and gay +robes; they were pinned about the white curtains of her bed. "My little +fairies," she said faintly; "tell it, Mrs. Nemily." + +"The fairies are come to see if Nancy wants anything," said Emily. +"Nancy is the little Queen. She is very much better this evening, dear +John." John knelt by the child to bring her small face close to his, +and blessed her; he had borne the strain of many miserable hours without +a tear, but the sound of this tender little voice completely overpowered +him. + +Emily was the only person about him who was naturally and ardently +hopeful, but she scarcely ever left the child. He was devoured by +anxiety himself, but he learned during the next two days to bless the +elastic spirits of youth, and could move about among his other children +pleased to see them smile and sometimes to hear them laugh. They were +all getting better; Valentine took care they should not want for +amusement, and Crayshaw, who, to do him justice, had not yet heard of +little Janie's death or of Nancy's extremely precarious state, did not +fail to write often, and bestow upon them all the nonsense he could +think of. After his short sojourn in Germany, he had been sent back to +Harrow, and there finding letters from the Mortimers awaiting him, had +answered one of them as follows:-- + + LINES COMPOSED ON RECEIVING A PORTRAIT OF + GLADYS WITH BLOB IN HER ARMS. + + I gazed, and O with what a burst + Of pride, this heart was striving! + His tongue was out! that touched me first. + My pup! and art thou thriving? + + I sniffed one sniff, I wept one weep + (But checked myself, however), + And then I spake, my words went deep, + Those words were, "Well, I never." + + Tyrants avaunt! henceforth to me + Whose Harrow'd heart beats faster, + The coach shall as the coachman be, + And Butler count as master. + + That maiden's nose, that puppy's eyes, + Which I this happy day saw, + They've touched the manliest chords that rise + I' the breast of Gifford Crayshaw. + +John Mortimer was pleased when he saw his girls laughing over this +effusion, but anxiety still weighed heavily on his soul--he did not +live on any hope of his own, rather on Emily's hope and on a kiss. + +He perceived how completely but for his father's companionship he had +all his life been alone. It would have been out of all nature that such +a man falling in love thus unaware should have loved moderately. All the +fresh fancies of impassioned tenderness and doubt and fear, all the +devotion and fealty that youth wastes often and almost forgets, woke up +in his heart to full life at once, unworn and unsoiled. The strongest +natures go down deepest among the hidden roots of feeling, and into the +silent wells of thought. + +It had not seemed unnatural heretofore to stand alone, but now he longed +for something to lean upon, for a look from Emily's eyes, a touch from +her hand. + +But she vouchsafed him nothing. She was not so unconscious of the kiss +she had bestowed as he had believed she would be; perhaps this was +because he had mistaken its meaning and motive. It stood in his eyes as +the expression of forgiveness and pity,--he never knew that it was full +of regretful renunciation, and the hopelessness of a heart +misunderstood. + +But now the duties of life began to press upon him, old grey-headed +clerks came about the place with messages, young ones brought letters to +be signed. It was a relief to be able to turn, if only for a moment, to +these matters, for the strain was great: little Nancy sometimes better, +sometimes worse, was still spoken of as in a precarious state. + +Every one in the house was delighted, when one morning he found it +absolutely necessary to go into the town. Valentine drove him in, and +all his children rejoiced, it seemed like an acknowledgment that they +were really better. + +Johnnie ate a large breakfast and called to Swan soon after to bring him +up the first ripe bunch of grapes--he had himself propped up to eat them +and to look out of the window at the garden. + +"What a jolly bunch!" he exclaimed when Swan appeared with it. + +"Ay, sir, I only wish Fergus could see it! The Marchioness sent +yesterday to inquire,--sent the little young ladies. I haven't seen such +a turn-out in our lane since last election time. Mr. Smithers said they +were a sight to be seen, dressed up so handsome. 'Now then,' says he, +'you see the great need and use of our noble aristocracy. Markis is a +credit to it, laying out as he does in the town he is connected with. +Yes, they were a sight,' Mr. Smithers was the 'pink' Wigfield draper. +'Ay, ay,' says I, 'who should go fine if not the peahen's daughters?'" + +"Everybody seems to have sent to inquire," said Johnnie ungraciously. "I +hate to hear their wheels. I always think it is the doctor's carriage." + +"Old Lady Fairbairn came too," proceeded Swan, "and Miss Justina. The +old lady has only that one daughter left single, as I hear; she has got +all the others married." + +Johnnie made a grimace, and pleased himself with remembering how +Valentine, in telling him of that call, had irreverently said, "Old +Mother Fairbairn ought to be called the Judicious Hooker." + +Johnnie was sincerely sorry these acquaintances had returned; so was +Emily. Had she not given John a positive denial to his suit? Who could +be surprised now if he turned to her rival? + +It was afternoon when John Mortimer came in. The house was very quiet, +and a little flag hung out of Nancy's window, showing that the child was +asleep. He therefore approached quietly, entered the library, and +feeling very tired and disquieted, sat down among his books. He took one +down, and did not know how long he might have been trying to occupy +himself with it, when he heard the rustle of a silk dress, and Dorothea +stood in the open window. She looked just a little hurried and shy. +"Oh, Mr. Mortimer," she began, "Emily sent her love to you, and----" + +"Emily sent her love to me?" he exclaimed almost involuntarily, "sent +her love? are you sure?" + +Dorothea, thus checked in her message, drew back and blushed--had she +made herself very ridiculous? would Emily be displeased? His eyes seemed +to entreat her for an answer. She faltered, not without exceeding +surprise, at the state of things thus betrayed, and at his indifference +to her observation. "I suppose she did. I thought all this family sent +love to one another." Thus while she hesitated, and he seemed still to +wait for her further recollection, she noticed the strange elation of +hope and joy that illumined his face. + +"I don't think I could have invented it," she said. + +"Ah, well," he answered, "I see you cannot be sure; but let me hear it +again, since it possibly might have been said. 'Emily sent her love,' +you began----" + +"And she is sitting with Nancy, but she wanted you to know as soon as +you came in that the doctors have paid another visit together, and they +both agreed that Nancy might now be considered quite out of danger." + +"Oh, I thank God!" he exclaimed. + +Emily had sent her love to him to tell him this. He felt that she might +have done, it was not impossible, it reminded him of her kiss. He had +been weighed down so heavily, with a burden that he was never +unconscious of for a moment, a load of agonized pity for his little +darling's pain, and of endless self-reproach; that the first thing he +was aware of when it was suddenly lifted off and flung away was, that +his thoughts were all abroad. It was much too soon yet to be glad. He +was like a ship floated off the rock it had struck on, a rock like to +have been its ruin, but yet which had kept it steady. It was drifting +now, and not answering to the helm. + +He could not speak or stir, he hardly seemed to breathe. + +A slight sound, the rustling of Dorothea's gown as she quietly withdrew, +recalled him a little to himself, he locked himself in and went back to +his place. + +He was not in the least able to think, yet tears were raining down on +his hands before he knew that they were his tears, and that, as they +fell, his heart long daunted and crushed with pain, beat more freely, +and tasted once more the rapture of peace and thankfulness. Presently he +was on his knees. Saved this once, the almost despairing soul which had +faintly spoken to God, "I do not rebel," was passionate now in the +fervour of thankful devotion. The rapture of this respite, this return +to common blessings, was almost too ecstatic to be borne. + +It was nearly dusk before he could show himself to his children; when he +stole upstairs to look at his little Nancy she was again asleep. "Mrs. +Walker had gone back to her own house for the night," the nurse said, +"but she had promised to come back after breakfast." + +That night Emily slept exquisitely. The luxury of a long peaceful +interval, free from anxiety and responsibility, was delightful to her. +She came down very late, and after her breakfast sauntered into the +drawing-room, looking fresh as a white blush rose, lovely and content; +next to the joy of possession stands, to such as she was, the good of +doing good, and being necessary to the objects of their love. + +A little tired still, she was sitting idly on a sofa, more wistfully +sweet and gravely glad than usual, when suddenly John Mortimer appeared, +walking quickly through her garden. + +"He was sure to come and thank me," she said simply, and half aloud. "I +knew he would sooner or later," and she said and thought no more. + +But as he advanced, and she saw his face, she remembered her kiss, hoped +that he did not, and blushing beautifully, rose and came a step or two +forward to meet him. "None but good news, I hope," she said. + +"No, they are all better, thank God; and my little Nancy also. Emily, +how can I ever thank you? My obligation is too deep for words." + +"Who could help wishing to be of use under such circumstances? Am I not +enough thanked by seeing you all better?" + +"I hardly know how I could have presumed to intrude here and disturb you +and--and trouble you with such things as I can say--when you are come +home for an interval of rest and quiet. Emily, if I had lost her, poor +little girl, I never could have lifted up my head again. It was hard on +that blameless little life, to be placed in such peril; but I suffered +more than she did. Did you sometimes think so? Did you sometimes feel +for me when you were watching her day and night, night and day?" + +"Yes, John, I did." + +"I hoped so." + +"But now that the greatest part of the sorrow is over, fold it up and +put it away, lay it at the feet of the Saviour; it is his, for He has +felt it too." When she saw his hands, that they had become white and +thin, and that he was hollow-eyed, she felt a sharp pang of pity. "It is +time now for you to think of yourself," she said. + +"No," he answered, with a gesture of distaste. "The less of that the +better. I am utterly and for ever out of my own good graces. I will not +forgive myself, and I cannot forget--have I only one mistake to deplore? +I have covered myself with disgrace," he continued, with infinite +self-scorn; "even you with your half divine pity cannot excuse me +there." + +"Cannot I?" she answered with a sweet wistfulness, that was almost +tender. + +He set his teeth as if in a passion against himself, a flash came from +the blue eyes, and his Saxon complexion showed the blood through almost +to the roots of the hair. "I have covered myself with disgrace--I am the +most unmanly fool that ever breathed--I hate myself!" He started up and +paced the room, as if he felt choked, whilst she looked on amazed for +the moment, and not yet aware what this meant. + +"John!" she exclaimed. + +"I suppose you thought I had forgotten to despise myself," he went on in +a tone rather less defiant. "When that night I asked you for a kiss--I +had not, nothing of the kind--I thought my mind would go, or my breath +would leave me before the morning. Surely that would have been so but +for you. But if I have lived through this for good ends, one at least +has been that I have learned my place in creation--and yours. I have +seen more than once since that you have felt vexed with yourself for the +form your compassion took then. I deserve that you should think I +misunderstood, but I did not. I came to tell you so. It should have been +above all things my care not to offend the good angel so necessary in my +house during those hours of my misfortune. But I am destined never to be +right--never. I let you divine all too easily the secret I should have +kept--my love, my passion. It was my own fault, to betray it was to +dismiss you. Well, I have done that also." + +Emily drew a long breath, put her hand to her delicate throat, and +turning away hastily moved into the window, and gazed out with +wide-opened eyes; Her face suffused with a pale tint of carnation was +too full of unbelieving joy to be shown to him yet. He had made a +mistake, though not precisely the mistake he supposed. He was destined, +so long as he lived, never to have it explained. It was a mistake which +made all things right again, made the past recede, and appear a dream, +and supplied a sweet reason for all the wifely duty, all the long +fealty and impassioned love she was to bestow on him ever after. + +It was strange, even to her, who was so well accustomed to the +unreasoning, exaggerated rhapsody of a lover, to hear him; his rage +against himself, his entire hopelessness; and as for her, she knew not +how to stop him, or how to help him; she could but listen and wonder. + +Nature helped him, however; for a waft of summer wind coming in at that +moment, swung the rose-branches that clustered round the window, and +flung some of their white petals on her head. Something else stirred, +she felt a slight movement behind her, and a little startled, turned +involuntarily to look, and to see her cap--the widow's delicate +cap--wafted along the carpet by the air, and settling at John Mortimer's +feet. + +He lifted it up, and she stood mute while she saw him fold it together +with a man's awkwardness, but with something of reverence too; then, as +if he did not know what else to do with it, he laid it on the table +before an opened miniature of Fred Walker. + +After a moment's consideration she saw him close this miniature, folding +its little doors together. + +"That, because I want to ask a favour of you," he said. + +"What is it?" she asked, and blushed beautifully. + +"You gave me a kiss, let me also bestow one--one parting kiss--and I +will go." + +He was about to go then, he meant to consider himself dismissed. She +could not speak, and he came up to her, she gave him her hand, and he +stooped and kissed her. + +Something in her eyes, or perhaps the blush on her face, encouraged him +to take her for a moment into his arms. He was extremely pale, but when +she lifted her face from his breast a strange gleam of hope and wonder +flashed out of his eyes. + +She had never looked so lovely in her life, her face suffused with a +soft carnation, her lucid grey-blue eyes full of sweet entreaty. +Nevertheless, she spoke in a tone of the quietest indifference--a sort +of pensive wistfulness habitual with her. + +"You can go if you please," she said, "but you had much better not." + +"No!" he exclaimed. + +"No," she repeated. "Because, John--because I love you." + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +THE TRUE GHOST STORY. + + + _Horatio._--"Look, my lord, it comes!" + Hamlet the Dane. + +Valentine was at Melcombe again. He had begun several improvements about +the place which called for time, and would cost money. It was not +without misgiving that he had consented to enter on the first of them. + +There was still in his mind, as he believed, a reservation. He would +give up the property if he ever saw fit cause. + +Now, if he began to tie himself by engaging in expensive enterprises, or +by undertaking responsibilities, it might be impossible to do this. + +Therefore he held off for some little time. + +He fell into his first enterprise almost unawares, he got out of his +reluctant shrinking from it afterwards by a curious sophistry. "While +this estate is virtually mine," he thought, "it is undoubtedly my duty +to be a good steward of it. If, in the course of providence, I am shown +that I am to give it up, no doubt I shall also be shown how to proceed +about these minor matters." + +He had learnt from his uncle the doctrine of a particular providence, +but had not received with it his uncle's habit of earnest waiting on +providence, and straightforward desire to follow wherever he believed it +to lead. + +Valentine came almost at once under the influence of the vicar, Mr. +Craik, the man who had always seen something so more than commonly +mysterious about the ways of God to men. Mr. Craik wanted Valentine to +restore the old church, by which he meant to pull it almost to pieces, +to raise the roof, to clear away the quaint old oaken galleries, to push +out a long chancel, and to put in some painted windows, literally such, +pictures of glass, things done at Munich. + +When Valentine, always facile, had begun to consider this matter, a +drawing of the building, as it was to look when restored, was made, in +order to stir up his zeal, and make him long for a parish church that +would do him and the vicar credit. He beheld it, and forthwith vowed, +with uncivil directness, that he would rather build the vicar a _crack +church_ to his mind, in the middle of the village, than help in having +that dear old place mauled and tampered with. + +Mr. Craik no sooner heard this than he began to talk about a site. + +He was a good man, had learned to be meek, so that when he was after +anything desirable he might be able to take a rebuff, and not mind it. + +In the pleasant summer evenings he often came to see Valentine, and +while the latter sauntered about with a cigar, he would carve faces on a +stick with his knife, walking beside him. He had given up smoking, +because he wanted the poor also to give it up, as an expensive luxury, +and one that led to drinking. Valentine respected him, was sure the +scent of a cigar was still very pleasant to his nostrils, and knew he +could well have afforded to smoke himself. That was one reason why he +let himself be persuaded in the matter of the site (people never are +persuaded by any reason worth, mentioning). Another reason was, that Mr. +Craik had become a teetotaller, "for you know, old fellow, that gives +me such a _pull_ in persuading the drunkards;" a third reason was, that +there was a bit of land in the middle of the village, just the thing for +a site, and worth nothing, covered with stones and thistles. Mr. Craik +said he should have such a much better congregation, he felt sure, if +the church was not in such an extremely inconvenient out-of-the-way +place; that aged saint, who was gone, had often regretted the +inconvenience for the people. + +Valentine at last gave him the site. Mr. Craik remarked on what a +comfort it would have been to the aged saint if she could have known +what a good churchman her heir would prove himself. + +But Valentine was not at all what Mr. Craik meant by a good churchman. +Such religious opinions and feelings as had influence over him, had come +from the evangelical school. His old father and uncle had been very +religious men, and of that type, almost as a matter of course. In their +early day evangelical religion had been as the river of God--the one +channel in which higher thought and fervent feeling ran. + +Valentine had respected their religion, had seen that it was real, that +it made them contented, happy, able to face death with something more +than hope, able to acquiesce in the wonderful reservations of God with +men, the more able on account of them to look on this life as the +childhood of the next, and to wait for knowledge patiently. But yet, of +all the forms taken by religious feeling, Valentine considered it the +most inconvenient; of all the views of Christianity, the most difficult +to satisfy. + +He told the vicar he did not see why his grandmother was to be called a +saint because she had gone through great misfortunes, and because it had +pleased her to be _trundled_ to church, on all Sundays and saints' days, +besides attending to the other ordinances of the church and the +sacraments. + +When he was mildly admonished that a site seemed to presuppose a +church, he assented, and with one great plunge, during which he +distinctly felt, both that his position as landlord was not to be +defended, and that this good use of the money might make things more +secure, he gave a promise to build one--felt a twinge of compunction, +and a glow of generosity, but blushed hotly when Mr. Craik observed that +the old church, being put in decent repair, and chiefly used for +marriages and for the burial service, it might, perhaps be a pleasing +testimony, a filial act, to dedicate the new one to St. Elizabeth, +"Simply in reverend recollection, you know, Melcombe, of that having +been--been your grandmother's name." + +"No, I shouldn't like it," said Valentine abruptly. Mr. Craik was not +sure whether his evident shrinking was due to some low-church scruple as +to any dedication at all, or whether the name of the sainted Elizabeth +had startled him by reminding him of self-renunciation and a self-denial +even to the death, of all that in this world we love and long for. This +Elizabeth, his grandmother, might have been a saintly old woman in her +conversation, her patience, her piety, for anything Valentine knew to +the contrary, but he had hold now of all her accounts; he knew from +them, and from investigations made among the tenants, that she had held +a hard grip of her possessions, had sometimes driven shrewd bargains, +and even up to her extreme old age had often shown herself rather more +than a match for some of those about her. Things to be done by others +she had seen to with vigilance, things to be done by herself she had +shown a masterly power of leaving undone. Her property had considerably +increased during her term of possession, though in ordinary charity a +good deal had been given away. All was in order, and her heir whom she +had never seen was reaping the fruits of her judgment and her savings; +but whether she ought to be called a saint he rather doubted. + +He had returned to Melcombe, not without shrewd suspicions that his +cousin was soon to be his brother-in-law. A letter following closely on +his steps had confirmed them. Some time in September he expected a +summons to be present at the wedding; he wished after that to travel for +several months, so he allowed Mr. Craik to persuade him that his good +intentions ought not to be put off, and he made arrangements for the +commencement of the new church at once. + +It was to cost about three thousand pounds, a large sum; but the payment +was to be spread over three or four years, and Valentine, at present, +had few other claims. He had, for instance, no poor relations, at least +he thought not; but he had scarcely given his word for the building of +the church when he received a letter from Mrs. Peter Melcombe--"an ugly +name," thought Valentine. "Mrs. Valentine Melcombe will sound much +better. Oh, I suppose the young woman will be Mrs. Melcombe, though." +Mrs. Peter Melcombe let Valentine know that she and Laura had returned +to England, and would now gladly accept his invitation, given in the +spring, to come and stay a few weeks with him whenever this should be +the case. + +"I have always considered Laura a sacred trust," continued the good +lady. "My poor dear Peter, having left her to me--my means are by no +means large--and I am just now feeling it my duty to consider a certain +very kind and very flattering offer. I am not at all sure that a +marriage with one whom I could esteem might not help me to bear better +the sorrow of my loss in my dear child; but I have decided nothing. +Laura has actually only five hundred pounds of her own, and that, I need +not say, leaves her as dependent on me as if she was a daughter." + +"Now look here," exclaimed Valentine, laying the letter down flat on the +table, and holding it there with his hand--"now look here, this is +serious. You are going to bring that simpleton Laura to me, and you +would like to leave her here, would you? Preposterous! She cannot live +with me! Besides, I am such a fool myself, that if I was shut up with +her long, I should certainly marry her. Take a little time, Val, and +consider. + + "'Wilt them brave? + Or wilt thou bribe? + Or wilt thou cheat the kelpie?' + +"Let me see. Laura is my own cousin, and the only Melcombe. Now, if Craik +had any sense of gratitude--but he hasn't--it seems so natural, 'I built +you a church, you marry my cousin. Do I hear you say you won't? You'd +better think twice about that. I'd let you take a large slice of the +turnip-field into your back garden. Turnips, I need hardly add, you'd +have _ad lib._ (very wholesome vegetables), and you'd have all that +capital substantial furniture now lying useless in these attics, and an +excellent family mangle out of the messuage or tenement called the +laundry--the wedding breakfast for nothing. I think you give in, Craik?' +Yes; we shake hands--he has tears in his eyes. 'Now, Laura, what have +you got to say?' '_He has sandy hair._' 'Of course he has, the true +Saxon colour. Go down on your knees, miss, and thank heaven fasting for +a good man's love (Shakespeare).' '_And he has great red hands._' +'Surely they had better be red than green--celestial rosy red, love's +proper hue.' Good gracious! here he is." + +"Ah, Craik! is that you? How goes it?" + +One of Mr. Craik's gifts was that he could sigh better than almost +anybody; whenever he was going to speak of anything as darkly +mysterious, his sigh was enough to convince any but the most hardened. +He _fetched_ a sigh then (that is the right expression)--he fetched it +up from the very bottom of his heart, and then he began to unfold his +grievances to Valentine, how some of his best school-girls had tittered +at church, how some of his favourite boys had got drunk, how some of +the farmers had not attended morning service for a month, and how two +women, regular attendants, had, notwithstanding, quarrelled to that +degree that they had come to blows, and one of them had given the other +a black eye, and old Becky Maddison is ill, he concluded. "I've been +reading to her to-day. I don't know what to think about administering +the Holy Communion to her while she persists in that lie." + +"Do you mean the ghost story?" asked Valentine. + +"Yes." + +"It may have been a lie when she first told it; but in her extreme old +age she may have utterly forgotten its first invention. It may possibly +not be now a conscious lie, or, on the other hand, it may be true that +she did see something." + +"Your grandmother always considered that it was a lie, and a very cruel +lie." + +"How so? She accused no one of anything." + +"No, but she made people talk. She set about a rumour that the place was +haunted, and for some years the family could hardly get a servant to +live with them." + +"Poor old soul!" thought Valentine. "I suppose it would be wrong to try +and bribe her to deny it. I wish she would though." + +"I think," said Mr. Craik, an air of relief coming over his face--"I +think I shall tell her that I regard it in the light you indicated." + +Soon after that he went away. It was evening, the distant hills, when +Valentine sauntered forth, were of an intense solid blue, gloomy and +pure, behind them lay wedges of cloud edged with gold, all appeared +still, unchanging, and there was a warm balmy scent of clover and +country crops brooding over the place. + +Valentine sauntered on through the peaceful old churchyard, and over the +brow of the little hill. What a delightful evening view! A long hollow, +with two clear pools (called in those parts meres) in it, narrow, and +running side by side, the evening star and crescent moon, little more +than a gold line, reflected in one of them. The reed warbler was +beginning to sing, and little landrails were creeping out of the green +sedges, the lilies were closing and letting themselves down. There was +something so delightful, so calm, that Valentine felt his heart elevated +by it. The peace of nature seems a type of the rest of God. It reminds +man of that deep awful leisure in which his Maker dwells, taking thought +for, and having, as we express it, time, to bless and think upon his +creatures. + +Valentine watched the gold in the sky, and the primrose-tinted depths +beyond. He was thankful for his delightful home; he felt a good impulse +in him, urging that he must do his duty in this his day and generation; +he seemed to respond to it, hoped the new church would be of use in the +neighbourhood, and felt that, even if it cost him some sacrifice, Laura +must be provided for; either he must settle on her something that she +could live on, or he must promise her a marriage portion. + +As for himself, he was a good young fellow, better than many, and when +he went on to think of himself, he saw, in his vision of his own future, +nothing worse than an almost impossibly pretty girl as his bride, one +with whom he was to take a specially long and agreeable wedding tour; +and some time after that he supposed himself to see two or three jolly +little boys rolling about on the grass, the Melcombes of the future, and +with them and their mother he saw himself respected and happy. +Sauntering on still, he came past Becky Maddison's cottage, a pleasant +abode, thatched, whitewashed, and covered with jasmine, but too close to +the mere. "I will talk to that poor old soul again, and see if I can +make anything of her. I am sure Craik is mistaken about her." + +"She fails fast," said the daughter, when accosted by Valentine; and she +took him up-stairs to see her mother. He first made himself welcome by +giving her a handsome alms, and then inquired about her health. + +The daughter had gone down of her own accord. "I'n bin very bad with my +_sparms_" meaning spasms, she answered in a plaintive voice. Valentine +saw a very great change in her, the last sunset's afterglow fell upon +her face, it was sunk and hollow, yet she spoke in clear tones, full of +complaint, but not feeble. "And I'n almost done wi' this world." + +"Mr. Craik comes to see you, I know; he told me to-day that you were +ill." + +"Parson were always hard on I." + +"Because he doesn't believe the ghost story." + +"Ay, told me so this blessed marnin'; and who be he? wanted I to own +'twas a lie, and take the blessed sacrament, and make a good end. 'Sir,' +says I, 'Mr. Martimer believed it, that's Mr. Melcombe now--and so 'e +did, sir.'" + +"No, I didn't," said Valentine. + +"No?" she exclaimed, in a high piping tone. + +"No, I say. I thought you had either invented it--made it up, I mean--or +else dreamed it. I do not wish to be hard on you, but I want to remind +you how you said you had almost done with this world." + +"Why did 'e goo away, and never tell I what 'e thought?" she +interrupted. + +Valentine took no notice, but went on. "And the parson feels uneasy +about you, and so do I. I wish you would try to forget what is written +down in the book, and try to remember what you really saw; you must have +been quite a young girl then. Well, tell me how you got up very early in +the morning, almost before it was light, and tell what you saw, however +much it was, or however little; and if you are not quite sure on the +whole that you saw anything at all, tell that, and you will have a right +to hope that you shall be forgiven." + +"I'n can't put it in fine words." + +"No, and there is no need." + +"Would 'e believe it, if I told it as true as I could?" + +"Yes, I would." + +"I will, then, as I hope to be saved." + +"I mean to stand your friend, whatever you say, and I know how hard it +is to own a lie.' + +"Ay, that it be, and God knows I'n told a many." + +"Well, I ask you, then, as in the sight of God, is this one of them?" + +"No, sir. It ain't." + +"What! you did see a ghost?" + +"Ay, I did." + +Valentine concealed his disappointment as well as he could, and went on. + +"You told me the orchard of pear-trees and cherry-trees was all in +blossom, as white as snow. Now don't you think, as it was so very early, +almost at dawn, that what you saw really might have been a young +cherry-tree standing all in white, but that you, being frightened, took +it for a ghost?" + +"The sperit didn't walk in white," she answered; "I never said it was in +white." + +"Why, my good woman, you said it was in a shroud!" + +"Ay, I told the gentleman when he took it down, the ghost were wrapped +up in a cloak, a long cloak, and he said that were a shroud." + +"But don't you know what a shroud is?" exclaimed Valentine, a good deal +surprised. "What is the dress called hereabout, that a man is buried +in?" + +"His buryin' gown. 'Tis only a sperit, a ghost, that walks in a shroud. +I'n told that oft enough, I _should_ know." She spoke in a querulous +tone, as one having reasonable cause for complaint. + +"Well," said Valentine, after a pause, "if the shroud was not white, +what colour was it?" + +"Mid have been black for aught I know, 'twere afore sunrise; but it mid +have been a dark blue, and I think 'twas. There were a grete wash up at +the house that marnin', and I were coming to help. A sight of +cherry-trees grow all about the door, and as I came round the corner +there it stood with its hand on the latch, and its eyes very serious." + +"What did it look like?" + +"It looked like Mr. Cuthbert Martimer, and it stared at I, and then I +saw it were Mr. Melcombe." + +"Were you near it?" + +"Ay, sir." + +"Well, what next?" + +"I dropped a curtsey." + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed Valentine, turning cold. "What, curtsey to a +ghost, a spirit?" + +"Ay, I did, and passed on, and that very instant I turned, and it were +gone." + +Valentine's voice faltered as he asked the next question. "You were not +frightened?" + +"No, sir, because I hadn't got in my head yet that 'twere a sperit. When +I got in, I said, 'I'n seen him,' 'You fool,' says Mary Carfoil, that +was cook then, 'your head,' says she, 'is for ever running on the men +folks. He's a thousand mile off,' says she, 'in the Indies, and the +family heerd on him a week agoo.' 'I did see him,' says I. 'Goo along +about your business,' says she, 'and light the copper. It were Mr. +Cuthbert 'e saw, got up by-times to shoot rooks. Lucky enough,' says +she, 'that Mr. Melcombe be away.'" + +"Why was it lucky?" + +"Because they'd both set their eyes on the same face--they had. It's +hard to cry shame on the dead, but they had. And _she's_ dead too. +Neither on 'em meant any good to her. They had words about her. She'd +have nought to say to Mr. Cuthbert then." + +Valentine groaned. + +"No, nor she wouldn't after I'n seen the ghost, nor till every soul +said he was dead and drowned, and the letter come from London town." + +"There must have been others beside you," said Valentine, sharply, +"other people passing in and out of the laundry door. Why did no one see +him but you--see it but you?" + +"It were not the laundry door, sir, 'twere the door in the garden wall, +close by the grete pear-tree, as it went in at; Madam shut up that door +for ever so many years--'e can't mistake it." + +"Ah!" + +"That's the place, sir." + +"And who was fool enough first to call it a ghost?" cried Valentine +almost fiercely. "No, no, I mean," he continued faltering--"I don't know +what I mean," and he dropped his face into his hands, and groaned. "I +always thought it was the yard door." + +"No, Sir." + +"And so when he disappeared, and was no more seen, you thought you had +seen his ghost?" + +"Ay, sir, we all knowed it then, sure enough; Madam seemed to know't +from the first. When they told her I'n seen Mr. Melcombe, she fell in a +grete faint, and wrung her hands, and went in another faint, and cried +out he were dead; but the sperit never walked any more, folks said it +came for a token to I, 'her did ought to look for death by-times,' said +they." + +"That's all, is it?" + +"Ay, sir, that be all." + +"I believe you this time." + +"'E may, sir, and God bless 'e." + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +VALENTINE AND LAURA + + + "The flower out of reach is dedicate to God." + + _Tamil Proverb._ + +Some one passing Valentine as he walked home in the gloaming, started, +and hurried on. "He came up so still-like," she said, afterwards, "that +I e'en took him for a sperit, he being a Melcombe, and they having a way +of _walking_." + +She did not speak without book, for old Madam Melcombe was already said +to haunt the churchyard. Not as a being in human guise, but as a white, +widewinged bird, perfectly noiseless in its movements, skimming the +grass much as owls do, but having a plaintive voice like that of a +little child. + +Late in the night again, when all the stars were out sparkling in a +moonless sky, and the household should long have been asleep, the same +fancy or fear recurred. Two housemaids woke suddenly, and felt as if +there was a moaning somewhere outside. They had been sleeping in the +heat with their window open, and they looked out and saw a dark shadow +moving in the garden, moving away from the house, and seeming to make as +if it wrung its hands. After this, still peering out into the starlight, +they lost sight of it; but they fancied that they heard it sigh, and +then it stood a dark column in their sight, and seemed to fall upon the +bed of lilies, and there lie till they were afraid to look any longer, +and they shut their window and crept again into their beds. + +But the lilies? It might have been true that they saw somewhat, but if a +spirit had haunted the dark garden that night, surely no trace of its +sojourn would have remained on the bed of lilies; yet in the morning +many, very many of their fragrant leaves were crushed and broken, as if +in truth some houseless or despairing being had crouched there. + +The housemaids told their tale next morning, and it was instantly +whispered in the house that the ghost had come again. The maids shook +with fear as they went about, even in broad daylight. The gardener alone +was incredulous, and made game of the matter. + +"Hang the ghost!" said he; but then he came from the eastern counties, +and had no reverence for the old family "fetch." "Hang the ghost! why +shouldn't that shadow have been the brown pony? Ain't he out at grass, +and didn't I find the garden-door ajar this morning? He came in, I'll be +bound." Then the gardener shouldered his spade, and finding a number of +footmarks all over the place, specially about the bed of lilies, and +certainly not those of a pony, he carefully obliterated them, and held +his peace. Shaking his head when alone, and muttering, "They're a queer +lot, these Melcombes--who'd have expected this now! If the dead ones +don't walk, the live ones do. Restless, that's what it is. Restless, too +much to eat. I should say, and too little to do. When the missis comes +we shall have more sensible doings, and I wish the missis had never left +us, that I do." + +Mrs. Peter Melcombe, thus welcomed back again in the gardener's mind, +was then driving up to the door of Melcombe House, and Valentine was +stepping out to receive her. + +It was natural that she should feel agitated, and Valentine accosted her +so seriously as to increase her emotion. She had been able to recover +her usually equable spirits after the loss of her child, it was only on +particular occasions that she now gave way to tears. She was by no +means of their number who love to make a parade of grief; on the +contrary, emotion was painful to her, and she thankfully avoided it when +she could. + +She retired with Laura, and after a reasonable time recovered herself, +taking care to go at once into the room where her darling had slept, and +where he had played, that she might not again be overcome. + +"I have dreaded this inexpressibly," she said, sobbing, to Laura, who +was following her with real sympathy. + +"Valentine was very odd," answered Laura; "you would, I am sure, have +got over your return quite calmly, if he had been less solemn. Surely, +Amelia dear, he is altered." + +"He was oppressed, no doubt, at sight of me; he felt for me." + +Laura said no more, but several times during that first day she made +wondering observations. She looked in vain for the light-hearted +companionable young fellow with whom she had become intimate in cousinly +fashion, and whom she had fully hoped to consult about a certain affair +of her own. She saw an air of oppressive bitterness and absence of mind +that discouraged her greatly. "There is no mistaking his expression of +countenance," she thought; "he must have been disappointed in love." + +"Laura," exclaimed Mrs. Melcombe, when the two ladies, having left the +dining-room, were alone together in the old grandmother's favourite +parlour, now used as a drawing-room--"Laura, what can this mean? Is he +dyspeptic? Is he hypochondriacal? I declare, if Mr. Craik had not been +invited to meet us, I hardly see how we could have got through the +dinner: he is very odd." + +"And surely the conversation was odd too," said Laura. "How they did +talk about old Becky Maddison and her death this afternoon! How +fervently he expressed his gladness that Mr. Craik had seen her to-day, +and had administered the sacrament to her! I suppose you observed +Valentine's hesitation when you asked if he believed her story?" + +"Yes; I felt for the moment as if I had no patience with him, and I +asked because I wanted to bring him to reason. He can hardly wish to own +before sensible people that he does believe it; and if he does not, he +must know that she was an impostor, poor old creature." Then she +repeated, "He is very odd," and Laura said-- + +"But we know but little of him. It may be his way to have fits of +melancholy now and then. How handsome he is!" + +Amelia admitted this; adding, "And he looks better without that +perpetual smile. He had an illness, I think, two years ago; but he +certainly appears to be perfectly well now. It cannot be his health that +fails him." + +There was the same surprise next morning. Valentine seemed to be making +an effort to entertain them, but he frequently lapsed into silence and +thought. No jokes, good or bad, were forthcoming. Mrs. Melcombe felt +that if she had not received such a warm and pressing invitation to come +to visit Melcombe, she must have now supposed herself to be unwelcome. +She took out some work, and sat in the room where they had breakfasted, +hoping to find an opportunity to converse with him on her own plans and +prospects; while Laura, led by her affectionate feelings, put on her hat +and sauntered down the garden--to the lily-bed of course, and there she +stood some time, thinking of her dear old grandmother. She was not +altogether pleased with its appearance, and she stooped to gather out a +weed here and there. + +Presently Valentine came down the garden. He was lost in thought, and +when he saw Laura he started and seemed troubled. "What can you be +about, Laura dear?" he said. + +He had made up his mind that she had a pecuniary claim on him, and +therefore he purposely addressed her with the affection of a relative. +He felt that this would make it easier for her to admit this convenient +claim. + +"What am I about?" answered Laura. "Why, Valentine, I was just picking +off some of these leaves, which appear to have been broken. The bed +looks almost as if some--some creature had been lying on it." + +"Does it?" said Valentine, and he sighed, and stood beside her while she +continued her self-imposed task. + +"These lilies, you know," she remarked, "have great attractions for us." + +"Yes," said Valentine, and sighed again. + +"How he shivers!" thought Laura. "You cannot think," she said, rising +from her task and looking about her, "how it touches my feelings to come +back to the old place." + +"You like it then, Laura?" + +"Like it! I love it, and everything belonging to it." + +"Including me!" exclaimed Valentine, rallying for the moment and +laughing. + +Laura looked up and laughed too, but without answering. Before there was +time for that, she had seen the light of his smile die out, and the +gloom settle down again. A sort of amazement seemed to be growing under +his eyelids; his thought, whatever it was, had gradually returned upon +him, and he was struck by it with a new surprise. + +"Valentine!" she exclaimed. + +"Yes," he answered steadily and gravely, and then roused himself to add, +"Come out from under the shadow of this wall. The garden is all gloomy +here in the morning; it makes me shiver. I want to speak to you," he +continued, when they had passed through the door in the wall, and were +walking on the lawn before the house. + +"And I to you," she replied. "It was kind of you to ask us to come +here." + +"I suppose Mrs. Melcombe has decided to marry again," he began. + +"Yes, but she would like to tell you about that herself." + +"All right. I consider, Laura dear, that you have much more claim upon +me than upon her." + +"Do you, Valentine, do you?" + +As they walked down into the orchard, Laura shed a few agitated tears; +then she sat down on a grassy bank, and while Valentine, leaning against +the trunk of a pear-tree, looked down upon her, she said-- + +"Then I wish you would help me, Valentine. The devotion that I have +inspired, if I could only meet it as it deserves--" And then she went on +in a tone of apology, "And it is only help that I want, for I have five +hundred pounds of my own, if I could but get at it." + +"Where is the devotion?" exclaimed Valentine, suddenly rallying. "Let me +only catch hold of that devotion, and I'll soon have it down on its +knees, and old Craik's large red hands hovering over it and you, while +he matches it as the Church directs to a devotion more than worthy of +it, as I will the five hundred pounds with another." + +"Ah, but you can't," said Laura, laughing also, "because he's in +America; and, besides, you don't know all." + +"Oh, he's in America, is he?" + +"Yes; at least I suppose he's on the high seas by this time, or he will +be very shortly, for he's going up to New York." + +"_Up_ to New York! Where does he hang out then when he's at home?" + +"At Santo Domingo." + +"That at least shows his original mind. Not black, of course? Not +descended from the woman who 'suddenly married a Quaker?'" + +"Oh no, Valentine--an Englishman." + +"An Englishman and live at Santo Domingo! Well, I should as soon have +expected him to live in the planetary spaces. It would be much more +roomy there, and convenient too, though to be sure a planet coming up +might butt at him now and then." + +"It is rather a large island," said Laura. "But, Valentine----" + +"Well." + +"He speaks Spanish very well. He is comfortably off." + +"His speciality, no doubt, is the sugar-cane. Well, I shall consider him +very mean if he doesn't let me have my sugar cheap, in return for my +kindness." + +"You are sure you are going to be kind then." + +"Yes. if he is a good fellow." + +"He is a good fellow, and I am not worthy of him, for I behaved +shamefully to him. He has written me a very gentlemanly letter, and he +said, with perfect straightforwardness, that he did at one time believe +himself to have quite got over his attachment to me, but--but he had +been a good deal alone, had found time to think, and, in short, it had +come on again; and he hoped he was now able to offer me not only a very +agreeable home, but a husband more worthy of me. That's a mistake, for I +behaved ill to him, and he well, and always well, to me. In short, he +begged me to come over to New York in September: he is obliged to be +there on business himself at that time. He said, taking the chances, and +in the hope of my coming, he would name the very line of steamers I +ought to come by; and if I could but agree to it, he would meet me and +marry me, and take me back with him." + +"Somehow, Laura, I seem to gather that you do not consider him quite +your equal." + +"No, I suppose, as I am a Melcombe----" + +"A Melcombe!" repeated Valentine with bitter scorn. "A Melcombe!" Laura +felt the colour rush over her face with astonishment. She knew rather +than saw that the little glimpse she had had of his own self was gone +again; but before she could decide how to go on, he said, with +impatience and irritation, "I beg your pardon; you were going to +say----" + +"That he is in a fairly good position now," she proceeded, quoting her +lover's language; "and he has hopes that the head of the firm, who is a +foreigner, will take him into partnership soon. Besides, as his future +home is in America (and mine, if I marry him), what signifies his +descent?" + +"No," murmured Valentine with a sigh. "'The gardener Adam and his wife' +(Tennyson)." + +"And," proceeded Laura, "nothing can be more perfectly irreproachable +than his people are--more excellent, honest, and respectable." + +"Whew!" cried Valentine with a bitter laugh, "that is a great deal to +say of any family. Well, Laura, if you're sure they won't mind demeaning +themselves by an alliance with us----" + +"Nonsense, Valentine; I wish you would not be so odd," interrupted +Laura. + +"I have nothing to say against it." + +"Thank you, dear Valentine; and nobody else has a right to say anything, +for you are the head of the family. It was very odd that you should have +pitched upon that particular line to quote." + +"Humph! And as I have something of my own, more than three thousand +pounds in fact----" + +"And Melcombe," exclaimed Laura. + +"Ah, yes, I forgot. But I was going to say that you, being the only +other Melcombe, you know, and you and I liking one another, I wish to +act a brotherly part by you; and therefore, when you have bought +yourself a handsome trousseau and a piano, and everything a lady ought +to have, and your passage is paid for, I wish to make up whatever is +left of your five hundred pounds to a thousand, that you may not go +almost portionless to your husband." + +"I am sure, dear Valentine, he does not expect anything of the sort," +exclaimed Laura faintly, but with such a glow of pleasure in her face as +cheated Valentine for the moment into gladness and cordiality. + +"Depend upon it, he will be pleased notwithstanding to find you even a +better bargain than he expected." Laura took Valentine's hand when he +said this, and laid it against her cheek. "What's his name, Laura?" + +"His name is Swan." + +Thereupon the whole story came out, told from Laura's point of view, but +with moderate fairness. + +Valentine was surprised; but when he had seen the letters and discovered +that the usually vacillating Laura had quite made up her mind to sail to +New York, he determined that his help and sanction should enable her to +do so in the most desirable and respectable fashion. Besides, how +convenient for him, and how speedy a release from all responsibility +about her! Of course he remembered this, and when Laura heard him call +her lover "Don Josef," she thought it a delightful and romantic name. + +But Mrs. Peter Melcombe was angry when Laura told her that Joseph had +written again, and that Valentine knew all and meant to help her. She +burst into tears. "Considering all I have suffered," she said, "in +consequence of that young man's behaviour, I wonder you have not more +feeling than to have anything to say to him. Humanly speaking, he is the +cause of all my misfortunes; but for him, I might have been mistress of +Melcombe still, and my poor darling, my only delight, might have been +well and happy." + +Laura made no reply, but she repeated the conversation afterwards to +Valentine with hesitating compunction, and a humble hope that he would +put a more favourable construction on her conduct than Amelia had done. + +"Humanly speaking," repeated Valentine with bitterness, "I suppose, then, +she wishes to insinuate that God ordained the child's death, and she had +nothing to do with it?" + +"She behaved with beautiful submission," urged Laura. + +"I dare say! but the child had been given over to her absolute control, +and she actually had a warning sent to her, so that she knew that it was +running a risk to take him into heat, and hurry, and to unwholesome +food. She chose to run the risk. She is a foolish, heartless woman. If +she says anything to me, I shall tell her that I think so." + +"I feel all the more bitter about it," he muttered to himself, "because +I have done the same thing." + +But Mrs. Melcombe said nothing, she contented herself with having made +Laura uncomfortable by her tears, and as the days and weeks of her visit +at Melcombe went on she naturally cared less about the matter, for she +had her own approaching marriage to think of, and on the whole it was +not unpleasant to her to be for ever set free from any duty toward her +sister-in-law. + +Valentine, though he often amazed Laura by his fits of melancholy, never +forgot to be kind and considerate to her; he had long patience with her +little affectations, and the elaborate excuses she made about all sorts +of unimportant matters. She found herself, for the first time in her +life, with a man of whom she could exact attendance, and whom she could +keep generally occupied with her affairs. She took delighted advantage +of this state of things, insomuch that before she was finally escorted +to Liverpool and seen off, people in the neighbourhood, remarking on his +being constantly with her, and observing his only too evident +depression, thought he must have formed an attachment to her; it was +universally reported that young Mr. Melcombe was breaking his heart for +that silly Laura; and when, on his return, he seemed no longer to care +for society, the thing was considered to be proved. + +It was the last week in October when he reached Wigfield, to be present +at his sister's wedding. All the woods were in brown and gold, and the +still dry October summer was not yet over. John's children were all well +again, and little Anastasia came to meet him in the garden, using a +small crutch, of which she was extremely proud, "It was such a pretty +one, and bound with pink leather!" Her face was still pinched and pale, +but the nurse who followed her about gave a very good account of her, it +was confidently expected that in two or three months she would walk as +well as ever. "A thing to be greatly wished," said the nurse, "for Mr. +Mortimer makes himself quite a slave to her, and Mrs. Walker spoils +her." + +Valentine found all his family either excited or fully occupied, and yet +he was soon aware that a certain indefinable change in himself was only +the more conspicuous for his fitful attempts to conceal it. + +As to whether he was ill, whether unhappy, or whether displeased, they +could not agree among themselves, only, as by one consent, they forbore +to question him; but while he vainly tried to be his old self, they +vainly tried to treat him in the old fashion. + +He thought his brother seemed, with almost studied care, to avoid all +reference to Melcombe. There was, indeed, little that they could talk +about. One would not mention his estate, the other his wife, and as for +his book, this having been a great failure, and an expensive one, was +also a sore subject. Almost all they said when alone concerned the +coming marriage, which pleased them both, and a yachting tour. + +"I thought you had settled into a domestic character, St. George?" said +Valentine. + +"So did I, but Tom Graham, Dorothea's brother, is not going on well, he +is tired of a sea life, and has left his uncle, as he says, for awhile. +So as the old man longs for Dorothea, I have agreed to take her and the +child, and go for a tour of a few months with him to the Mediterranean. +It is no risk for the little chap, as his nurse, Mrs. Brand, feels more +at home at sea than on shore." + +On the morning of the wedding Valentine sauntered down from his sister's +house to John Mortimer's garden. Emily had Dorothea with her, and Giles +was to give her away. She was agitated, and she made him feel more so +than usual; a wedding at which Brandon and Dorothea were to be present +would at any time have made him feel in a somewhat ridiculous position, +but just then he was roused by the thought of it from those ideas and +speculations in the presence of which he ever dwelt, so that, on the +whole, though it excited it refreshed him. + +He was generally most at ease among the children; he saw some of them, +and Swan holding forth to them in his most pragmatical style. Swan was +dressed in his best suit, but he had a spade in his hand. Valentine +joined them, and threw himself on a seat close by. He meant to take the +first opportunity he could find for having a talk with Swan, but while +he waited he lost himself again, and appeared to see what went on as if +it was a shifting dream that meant nothing; his eyes were upon, the +children, and his ears received expostulation and entreaty: at last his +name roused him. + +"And what Mr. Melcombe will think on you it's clean past my wits to find +out. Dressed up so beautiful, all in your velvets and things, and +buckles in your shoes, and going to see your pa married, and won't be +satisfied unless I'll dig out this here nasty speckled beast of a +snake." + +"But you're so unfair," exclaimed Bertram. "We told you if you'd let us +conjure it, there would be no snake." + +"What's it all about?" said Valentine, rousing himself and remarking +some little forked sticks held by the boys. + +"Why, it's an adder down that hole," cried one. + +"And it's a charm we've got for conjuring him," quoth the other. "And we +only want Swanny to dig, and then if the charm is only a sham charm, the +adder will come out." + +"I should have thought he was a sight better wheer he is," said Swan. +"But you've been so masterful and obstinate, Master Bertie, since you +broke your arm!" + +"It's not at all kind of you to disappoint us on father's wedding-day." + +"Well, Mr. Melcombe shall judge. If he says, 'Charm it,' charm you +shall; for he knows children's feelings as well as grown folks's. There +never was anybody that was so like everybody else." + +"It's conjuring, I tell you, cousin Val. Did you never see a conjuror +pull out yards and yards of shavings from his mouth, and then roll them +up till they were as small as a pea, and swallow them? This is conjuring +too. We say, 'Underneath this hazelin mote;' that's the forked-stick, +you know; and while we say it the adder is obliged to roll himself up +tighter and tighter, just like those shavings, till he is quite gone." + +"_I_ can't swallow that!" exclaimed Valentine. "Well, off then." + +"But I won't have the stick poked down his hole!" cried Swan, while Hugh +shouted down his defiance-- + + "'Underneath this hazelin mote + There's a braggerty worm with a speckled throat, + Now! + Nine double hath he.' + +"That means he's got nine rings." + +"Well, I shall allers say I'm surprised at such nonsense. What do you +think he cares for it all?" + +"Why, we told you it would make him twist himself up to nothing. Go on, +Hughie. It's very useful to be able to get rid of snakes." + + "'Now from nine double to eight double, + And from eight double to seven double, + And from seven double to six double. + And from six double to five double, + And from five double to four double, + And from four double to three double.' + +(He's getting very tight now!) + + "'And from three double to two double, + And from two double to one double, + Now! + No double hath he,' + +"There, now he's gone, doubled up to nothing. Now dig, Swanny, and you'll +see he's gone." + +"It's only an old Cornish charm," said Valentine. "I often heard it when +I was a boy." + +"I call it heathenish!" exclaimed Mr. Swan. "What do folks want with a +charm when they've got a spade to chop the beast's head off with?" + +"But as he's gone, Swan," observed Valentine, "of course you cannot dig +him out; so you need not trouble yourself to dig at all." + +"Oh, but that's not fair. We want, in case he's there, to see him." + +"No, no," said Swan dogmatically; "I never heard of such a thing as +having the same chance twice over. I said if you'd sit on that bench, +all on you, I'd dig him out, if he was there. You wouldn't; you thought +you'd a charm worth two of that work, and so you've said your charm." + +"Well, we'll come and sit upon the bench tomorrow, then, and you'll dig +him." + +"That'll be as I please. I've no call to make any promises," said Swan, +looking wise. + +The only observer felt a deep conviction that the children would never +see that snake, and slight and ridiculous as the incident was, Swan's +last speech sunk deeply into Valentine's heart, and served to increase +his dejection. "And yet," he repeated to himself, "I fully hope, when +I've given up all, that I shall have my chance--the same chance over +again. I hope, please God, to prove that very soon; for now Laura's +gone, I'm bound to Melcombe no longer than it takes me to pack up my +clothes and the few things I brought with me." + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +A VISIT TO MELCOMBE. + + + "Fairest fair, best of good. + Too high for hope that stood; + White star of womanhood shining apart + O my liege lady, + And O my one lady, + And O my loved lady, come down to my heart. + + "Reach me life's wine and gold, + What is man's best all told, + If thou thyself withhold, sweet, from thy throne? + O my liege lady, + And O my loved lady, + And O my heart's lady, come, reign there alone." + +Afterwards while Valentine stood in the church, though his eyes and his +surface thoughts were occupied with the approaching ceremony, still in +devouter and more hopeful fashion than he had found possible of late, he +repeated, "Please God, when I have given up all, as my poor father would +wish, I shall have my chance over again. I'll work, like my betters, and +take not a stick or a clod away from that Melcombe." + +The guests were arriving. John Mortimer had been standing at the +altar-rails, his three sons with him. Several members of the family +grouped themselves right and left of him. This was to be the quietest of +weddings. And Miss Christie Grant thought what a pity that was; for a +grander man than the bridegroom or handsomer little fellows than his two +younger sons it would be hard to find. "He's just majestic," she +whispered to Mrs. Henfrey. "Never did I see him look so handsome or so +content, and there's hardly anybody to see him. Ay, here they come." +Miss Christie seldom saw anything to admire in her own sex. Valentine +looked down the aisle; his sister was coming, and John Mortimer's +twin-daughters, her only bridesmaids, behind her. + +The children behaved very well, though it was said afterwards that a +transaction took place at that moment between Bertie and Hugh, in the +course of which several large scarlet-runner beans were exchanged for +some acorns; also that when John Mortimer moved down the aisle to meet +his bride little Anastasia, seizing Mrs. Henfrey's gown to steady +herself, thrust out her crutch toward Valentine, that he might have the +privilege of again admiring it. + +The peculiarity of this wedding, distinguishing it from others where +love is, was the measureless contentment of the future step-children. +"Nothing new in this family," observed Mrs. Henfrey. "When Emily's +mother came here, all her children took to my father directly, and loved +him as if he had been their own." + +Emily had been married from her brother's house, Valentine's old home, +and in the dining-room there was spread a wedding breakfast. The room +looked nearly as it had done when Valentine should have appeared to be a +bridegroom himself; but he did not know this so well as Dorothea did; +yet he felt exceedingly sheepish, and was only consoled by observing +that she also was a good deal out of countenance, and scarcely knew +whether to blush or to smile when she spoke to him or met his eyes. + +So the ceremony of the breakfast well over, and John Mortimer and his +wife departed, Valentine was very glad to take leave of his family and +walk across the fields with Johnnie. He did this partly to while away +the time before his train started, partly to see Swan, who, with Mrs. +Swan in gorgeous array, was found walking about the garden, her husband +showing her the plants and flowers, and enlarging on their perfections. + +"But how can I find time for it, even on this noble occasion, Mr. +Melcombe, my wife's just been saying, is a wonder, for that long new +conservatory all down the front of the house will take a sight of +filling--filled it shall be, and with the best, for if ever there was a +lady as deserved the best, it's Mrs. John Mortimer. I'm sorry now I +burnt so many of my seedlings." + +"Burnt them, Nicholas?" + +"Why yes, sir," said Mrs. Swan, "when he used to be sitting up with Mr. +Johnnie, he had plenty of time to think, and he did it." + +Johnnie being not yet so strong as before his accident, now went into +the house to rest, and Swan proceeded to explain matters. + +"It seems, sir, that the new mistress said some time ago, that if there +was a conservatory along the front of the house, the rooms could be +entered from it, and need not be thoroughfares; so Mr. John Mortimer +built one, for he prizes every word she ever said. Now he had allers +allowed me to sell for my own benefit such of my seedlings as we +couldn't use ourselves. And Fergus sent, when the children were ill, and +made me a handsome bid for them. But there air things as can't be made +fair and square anyhow. The farrier has no right to charge me so high +for shoeing my horse that I'm forced to sell him my horse to pay his +bill; but he has a right to say he won't shoe him at all. Well, I +reckoned as a fair price wouldn't do for me, and an unfair price I was +above asking, so I flung the seedlings on my pea-sticks, and made a +bon-fire on 'em." + +"You did! I think that was waste, Swan. I think it was wrong." + +"No, sir, I think not; for, as I said, some things won't pay at any +figure. Their soil's better than ours. He meant to bribe me, and so beat +me, and bring me down through my own plants. But would it pay a man to +insure his brig that was not seaworthy (though he was to get £50,000 if +she went down) provided he had to sail in her himself? Better by half +break her up in the harbour, and have a dry burial for his corpse when +his time was come, and mourners to follow, decent and comfortable. Now +it's reason that if I'd known of this here new conservatory, and the new +lad I'm to have to help me, I'd have kept them." + +"Mrs. Swan," said Valentine, observing that she was moving away, "if +it's agreeable to you, I'll come in shortly and take a cup of tea with +you." + +Mrs. Swan expressed herself pleased, and Swan marched off after her to +get ready some cuttings which he was very desirous to send to the +gardener at Melcombe. + +"How Swanny talks!" said Barbara, who had now returned with her sisters +in the carriage, and joined Valentine; "he is so proud when his wife has +her best things on, her silk gown and her grand shawl; she only wears +them at flower shows and great days like this because she's a +Methodist." + +Mrs. Swan, in fact, consented out of wifely affection to oblige her +husband by wearing this worldly array when he specially desired it, but +she always sighed more than usual, and behaved with even more sobriety +and gravity then, as if to show that the utmost splendour of the world +as represented by the satinet gown and a Paisley shawl could not make +her forget that she was mortal, or puff up her heart with unbecoming +pride. + +Valentine, when a young boy, had often taken tea with Mrs. Swan, +generally by invitation, when radishes and fruit were added to the +buttered muffins. + +On this occasion she gave him brown bread and butter, and some delicate +young onions, together with a cake, baked in honour of Mr. Mortimer's +wedding. Valentine thought it was only due to her that she should be +told something concerning Joseph's wedding. A man's mother does not +often care to hear of her son's love for another woman, but Valentine +expected to please Mrs. Swan on this occasion. + +"Like old times to see you, sir," she said, "ain't it, Nicholas?" + +Then Valentine, seated at his ease, told his story, and was aware before +it was half over that Swan was attempting to feign a surprise he did not +feel, and that Mrs. Swan was endeavouring to keep within due bounds her +expression of the surprise she did feel. + +"Bless my heart!" she exclaimed, "you take this very easy, Nicholas." + +Then Mr. Swan said, looking rather foolish, "Well, Maria, there's many +more wonderful things in this world to hear on than to hear that a young +man have fell in love with a young woman." + +Mrs. Swan gasped. "Our Joey!" she exclaimed; "and what will Mr. Mortimer +think?" + +Valentine sat, composed, and almost impassive. + +"You think she likes our boy, sir?" + +"I am sure of it." + +"How is he ever to maintain her as she'll expect!" + +"She has a thousand pounds of her own; that will help him. I have +written to him that he must settle it on her." + +Here Mrs. Swan's added surprise made her thoughtful. + +"She is a good, modest, virtuous young lady, as I've heerd," said Swan, +looking pointedly at Valentine, as if to admonish-him that the mother +would like to have this confirmed. + +"Yes," answered Valentine, with great decision; "she is all that and +more, she is very affectionate, and has a good temper." + +"Well," said Swan, drawing a deep breath, "all I have to observe is, +that wives were made afore coats of mail, though coats of female would +be more to the purpose here" (he meant coats of arms), "and," continued +the gardener, with that chivalrous feeling which lies at the very core +of gentlemanhood, "I'm not going to disparage my son, my Joey, that +would be to disparage her _chice_. If she thinks he's ekal to be her +husband, she'll respect him as a wife should. Why, bless you, Maria, my +dear, if you come to that, there's hardly a young man alive that's ekal +to his young wife, whether she be gentle or simple. They're clean above +us, most on 'em. But he can rise; Joseph can rise if she'll help him." + +"My word!" repeated Mrs. Swan several times over; and then added slowly, +"It'll be an awk'ard thing for Swan if Mr. Mortimer should take offence +about this." + +Valentine was perfectly aware that something either in his manner, or +his account of his own part in the matter, had much surprised them; also +he thought that their poor place and preferment in this world seemed to +them to be menaced by it. He did what he could to dissipate any such +thoughts, and added a request that until they heard from Joseph that he +was actually married nothing might be said about the matter. This +request was very welcome to Mrs. Swan. It seemed to put off an eventful +day, which she was not ready for even in imagination. + +"Swan," said Valentine, "when he had taken leave of his hostess, this is +no news to you." + +"No, sir, Joseph told me all about it afore he sailed, and how he +thought he'd got over it. Mr. Mortimer knows, as you're aware. Well, +lastly, Joseph wrote again and told me he was fairly breaking his heart +about her, and he should try his chance once more. You see, sir, his +ways and fashions and hers are not alike. It would not have answered +here--but there they'd both have to learn perfectly new ways and +manners, and speak to their feller creatures in a new language. There's +hardly another Englishman for her to measure him with, and not one +English lady to let her know she should have made a better match." + +"Mr. Mortimer knows?" + +"Ay, sir." + +"And you never told your wife?" + +"No, she has a good deal to hear, Mr. Valentine, besides that, and I +thought I'd tell it her all at once." + +Valentine saw that he was expected to ask a question here. + +"What, Swanny, is something else coming off then?" + +"Ay, sir; you see, Mr. Melcombe, I'm lost here, I'm ekal to something +better, Mr. Mortimer knows it as well as I do. He's said as much to me +more than once. What he'll do without me I'm sure I don't know, but I +know well enough he'll never get such another." + +"No, I don't suppose he will." + +"There ain't such a gardener going--not for his weight in gold. But I'm +off in the spring. I've done a'most all but break it to my wife. It's +Joseph that's helping me, and for hindrance I've got a Methodist chapel +and a boarded floor. There's boarded floors to her kitchen, and back +kitchen, as Mr. Mortimer put in for her, because she was so rheumatic, +they air what she chiefly vally's the place for. But at some of them +small West India islands there's a fine opening, Joey says, for a man +with a headpiece as can cultivate, and knows what crops require, and I +ought to go. I'm only sixty-one or thereabouts. You'll not say anything +about it, sir," he continued, as the twins, who were in the garden, came +towards Valentine. + +They brought him in triumph to the schoolroom, which was decorated, and +full of the wedding presents the children had made for their father and +the dear mamma. + +"And you'll remember," said Bertram, "how you promised us--promised us +_with all your might,_ that we should come to Melcombe." + +"Yes, all of us," proceeded Anastasia; "he said the little ones too." + +"So you should have done, you poor darlings, but for that accident," +said Valentine. + +"And we were to see the pears and apples gathered, and have such fun. Do +you know that you're a sort of uncle now to us?" + +"What sort? The right sort?" + +"Yes, and now when shall we come?" + +"I am afraid I shall be away all the winter." + +"In the spring, then, and father and the dear mamma." + +"It's a long time till the spring," said Valentine, with a sigh; "but if +I am at Melcombe then-" + +"You'll have us?" + +"Yes." + +"Then let it be in the Easter holidays," said Johnnie, "that I may come +too." + +"All right," said Valentine, and he took leave of them, and departed in +one of their father's carriages for the Junction, muttering as he looked +back at the house, "No, you'll never see Melcombe, youngsters. I shall +be at the other end of the earth, perhaps, by that time." + +"Oh, what a long time to wait!" quoth the younger Mortimers; "five +months and a half to Easter--twenty-three weeks--twenty-three times +seven--what a lot of days! Now, if we were going to sea, as the Brandon +baby is, we shouldn't mind waiting. What a pity that such a treat should +come to a little stupid thing that does nothing but sputter and crow +instead of to us! Such a waste of pleasure." They had never heard of +"the irony of fate," but in their youthful manner they felt it then. + +So St. George Mortimer Brandon was borne off to the _Curlew_, and there, +indifferent to the glory of sunsets, or the splendour of bays and +harbours, he occupied his time in cutting several teeth, in learning to +seize everything that came near him, and in finding out towards the end +of the time how to throw or drop his toys overboard. He was even +observed on a calm day to watch these waifs as they floated off, and was +confidently believed to recognise them as his own property, while in +such language as he knew, which was not syllabic, he talked and scolded +at them, as if, in spite of facts, he meant to charge them with being +down there entirely through their own perversity. + +There is nothing so unreasonable as infancy, excepting the maturer +stages of life. + +His parents thought all this deeply interesting. So did the old uncle, +who put down the name of St. George Mortimer Brandon for a large legacy, +and was treated by the legatee with such distinguishing preference as +seemed to suggest that he must know what he was about, and have an eye +already to his own interests. + +Four months and a half. The Mortimers did not find them so long in +passing as in anticipation, and whether they were long or short to their +father and his new wife, they did not think of considering. Only a sense +of harmony and peace appeared to brood over the place, and they felt the +sweetness of it, though they never found out its name. There was more +freedom than of yore. Small persons taken with a sudden wish to go down +and see what father and mamma were about could do so; one would go +tapping about with a little crutch, another would curl himself up at the +end of the room, and never seem at all in the way. The new feminine +element had great fascinations for them, they made pictures for Emily, +and brought her flowers, liking to have a kiss in return, and to feel +the softness of her velvet-gown. + +The taller young people, instead of their former tasteless array, wore +delightfully pretty frocks and hats, and had other charming decorations +chosen for them. They began to love the memory of their dead mother. +What could she not have been to them if she had lived, when only a +step-mother was so sweet and so dear and so kind? And mamma had said to +them long before she had thought of marrying father, that their mother +would have greatly wished them to please their father's wife, and love +her if they could. Nothing was so natural as to do both, but it was +nice, to be sure, that she would have approved. + +It was not long after John Mortimer and his wife returned from their +very short wedding tour that they had a letter from Valentine, and he +had spoken so confidently of his intended absence in the south of Europe +during the later autumn and the whole winter, that they were surprised +to find he had not yet started, and surprised also at the excessive +annoyance, the unreasonable annoyance he expressed at having been +detained to be a witness at some trial of no great importance. The trial +had not come on so soon as it should have done, and he was kept +lingering on at this dull, melancholy Melcombe, till he was almost moped +to death. + +Emily folded up this letter with a sensation of pain and disappointment. +She had hoped that prosperity would do so much for Valentine, and +wondered to find him dissatisfied and restless, when all that life can +yield was within his reach. + +His next letter showed that he meant to stay at Melcombe all the winter. +He complained no more; but from that time, instead of stuffing his +letters with jokes, good and bad, he made them grave and short, and +Emily was driven to the conclusion that rumour must be right, the rumour +which declared that young Mr. Melcombe was breaking his heart for that +pretty, foolish Laura. + +At last the Easter holidays arrived, Johnnie came home, and forthwith +Emily received a letter from Valentine with the long-promised +invitation. The cherry orchards were in blossom, the pear-trees were +nearly out; he wanted his sister and John Mortimer to come, and bring +the whole tribe of children, and make a long stay with him. Some +extraordinary things were packed up as presents for cousin Val, an old +and much-loved leader, and Emily allowed more pets and more toys to +accompany the cavalcade than anybody else would have thought it possible +to get into two carriages. The little crutch, happily, was no longer +wanted. + +All the country was white with blossom when Valentine met his guests at +the door of Melcombe House. It was late in the afternoon. Emily thought +her brother looked thin, but the children rushing round him, and taking +possession of him, soon made her forget that, and the unwelcome thought +of Laura, for she saw his almost boyish delight in his young guests, and +they made him sit down, and closed him in, thrusting up, with tyrannous +generosity, cages of young starlings, all for him, and demanding that a +room, safe from cats, should immediately be set aside for them. Then two +restless, yelping puppies were proudly brought forward, hugged in their +owner's arms. Emily, who loved a stir, and a joyous chattering, felt her +spirits rise. Her marriage had drawn the families yet nearer together, +and for the rest of that evening she pleased herself with the thought. + +The next morning she wanted to see this beautiful house and garden. +Valentine was showman, and the whole family accompanied her, wandering +among the great white pear-trees, and the dark yews, then going into the +stable-yard, to see the strange, old out-buildings, with doors of heavy, +ancient oak, and then on to the glen. + +Valentine did not seem to care about his beautiful house, he rather +disparaged it. + +"You're not to say, 'it's well enough,' when it's beautiful," observed +Anastasia. + +Then with what was considered by the elder portion of the party to be a +pretty specimen of childish sagacity, Hugh admonished his little +sister-- + +"But he mustn't praise his own things; that's not good manners. He talks +in this way to make us think that he's not conceited; but he really +knows in his heart that they're very handsome." + +"Is he grander than father, mamma dear?" asked Anastasia. + +"I don't think so, my sweet," answered Emily laughing. "I see you are +not too grand, Val, to use your father's old repeater." + +"No," said Valentine, who had been consulting rather a shabby old watch, +and who now excused himself for leaving the party on the ground of an +appointment that he had made. "This, and a likeness of him that I have +in the house, are among the things I most value." + +What did the appointment matter to them? + +John noticed that he walked as if weary, or reluctant perhaps to leave +them. He was the only person who noticed anything, for you must +understand that the place was full of nests. All sorts of birds built +there, even herons; and to stand at the brink of the glen, and actually +see them--look down on to the glossy backs of the brooding mothers, and +count the nests--wealth incalculable of eggs, and that of all sorts,--to +do this, and not to be sure yet whether you shall ever finger them, is a +sensation for a boy that, as Mr. Weller said, "is more easier conceived +than described." + +And so Valentine went in. There were two appointments for him to keep, +one with his doctor, one with his lawyer. The first told him he had +unduly tired himself, and should lie down. So lying down, in his +grandmother's favourite sitting-room, he received the second, but could +decide on nothing, because he had not yet found opportunity to consult +the person principally concerned. + +So after the man of law had departed, Valentine continued to lie quietly +on the sofa for perhaps an hour; he closed his eyes, and had almost the +air of a man who is trying to gather strength for something that he has +to do. + +Children's voices roused him at last. Emily was moving up the garden +towards the house, leaning on John's arm; the two younger children were +with them, all the others having dispersed themselves about the place. + +Valentine sat up to gaze, and as their faces got nearer a sudden +anguish, that was not envy, overcame him. + +It was not so much the splendour of manly prime and strength that struck +him with the contrast to himself, not so much even the sight of love, as +of hope, and spring, and bloom, that were more than he could bear. How +sufficient to themselves they seemed! How charming Emily was! A woman +destined to inspire a life-long love seldom shows much consciousness of +it. "I never saw a fellow so deeply in love with his wife," thought +Valentine. "Surely she knows it. What are you saying to her, John?" They +had stopped under the great fruit-trees near the garden-door. John bent +down one of the blossom-laden boughs, and she, fair, and almost pale, +stood in the delicate white shadow looking at it. + +Beautiful manhood and womanhood! beautiful childhood, and health, and +peace! Valentine laid himself down again and shut his eyes. + +Emily had betrayed a little anxiety about him that morning. He was very +thin, she said; he must take care of himself. + +"Oh, yes," he had answered, "I shall do that. I have been very unwell, +but I am better now." And then he had noticed that John looked at him +uneasily, and seemed disturbed when he coughed. He thought that as they +stood under the fruit-trees John had caught sight of him. + +"I knew he would come up as soon as he found opportunity, and here he +is," thought Valentine, not moving from his place, but simply lifting up +his head as John entered. "What have you done with Emily?" he asked. + +"Emily is gone up to her dressing-room. She means to hear the children +read." + +"Ah," exclaimed Valentine, with a sudden laugh of good-humoured +raillery, "of all womankind, John, you have evidently secured the pearl, +the 'one entire and perfect chrysolite.' You know you think so." + +"Yes," answered John gravely, "but don't put me off, my dear fellow." + +"What do you want? What do you mean?" said Valentine, for John sitting +down near him, held out his hand. "Oh, nonsense; I'm all right." But he +put his own into it, and let John with his other hand push up the sleeve +of his coat. + +"Too thin by half, isn't it?" he said, affecting indifference, as John +gravely relinquished it; "but I am so mummied up in flannels that it +doesn't show much." + +"My dear fellow," John Mortimer repeated. + +"Yes, I have been long unwell, but now I have leave to start in one +week, John. I'm to take a sea voyage. You told me you could only stay +here a few days, and there is a great deal that ought to be done while +you are here. Don't look so dismayed, the doctors give me every hope +that I shall be all right again." + +"I devoutly hope so----" + +"There's nothing to drive the blood from your manly visage," Valentine +said lightly, then went on, "There is one thing that I ought not to have +neglected so long, and if I were in the best health possible I still +ought to do it, before I take a long sea voyage." He spoke now almost +with irritation, as if he longed to leave the subject of his health and +was urgent to talk of business matters. John Mortimer, with as much +indifference as he could assume, tried to meet his wishes. + +"You have been in possession of this estate almost a year," he said, +"so I hope, indeed I assume, that the making of a will is not what you +have neglected?" + +"But it is." + +Rather an awkward thing this to be said to the heir-at-law. He paused +for a moment, then remarked, "I met just now, driving away from your +door, the very man who read to us our grandmother's will." + +"I have been telling him that he shall make one for me forthwith." + +"When I consider that you have many claims," said John, "and consider +further that your property is all land, I wonder at your----" + +"My neglect. Yes, I knew you would say so." + +"When shall this be done then?" + +"To-morrow." + +Then Valentine began to talk of other matters, and he expressed, with a +directness certainly not called for, his regret that John Mortimer +should have made the sacrifices he had acknowledged to, in order +eventually to withdraw his name and interest altogether from his banking +affairs. + +John was evidently surprised, but he took Valentine's remarks +good-humouredly. + +"I know you have had losses," continued Valentine. "But now you have got +a partner, and----" + +"It's all settled," said John, declining to argue the question. + +"You fully mean to retire from probable riches to a moderate +competence?" + +"Quite; I have, as you say, made great sacrifices in order to do so." + +"I rather wonder at you," Valentine added; "there was no great risk, +hardly any, in fact." + +"I do not at all repent my choice," said John with a smile in his eyes +that showed Valentine how useless it was to say more. John was amused, +surprised, but not moved at all from his determination. He thought +proper to add, "My father, as you know, left two thousand pounds each +to every one of my children." + +"And he gave the same sum to me," Valentine broke in. "You said my +property was all land, but it is not. And so, John, you will no longer +be a rich man." + +"I shall be able to live just as I do at present," answered John +Mortimer, calmly turning him round to his own duty. "And you have +relatives who are decidedly poor. Then one of your sisters has married a +curate without a shilling, or any seeming chance of preferment; and your +brother, to whom you owe so much, has cramped his resources very much +for the sake of his mother's family. Of course, when I married Emily, I +insisted on repaying him the one thousand pounds he had made over to her +on her first marriage, but----" + +"Giles is very fairly off," interrupted Valentine, "and some day no +doubt his wife will have a good fortune." + +"I thought the old man had settled eight thousand pounds on her." + +"He made a settlement on her when she was to marry me, and he signed it. +But that settlement was of no use when she married St. George." + +"Had he the imprudence, then, to leave everything to chance?" + +"Even so. But, John, St. George will never have a single acre of +Melcombe." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +A PRIVATE CONSULTATION. + + + "Remove from me the way of lying...I have chosen the way of + truth."--PSALM cxix. 29, 30. + +"Why, you young rogues, you make your father blush for your appetites," +said John Mortimer to his boys, when he saw Valentine at the head of the +table, serving out great slices of roast beef at a luncheon which was +also to be early dinner for the children. + +Valentine had placed Emily at the other end of the table. "Take my +place, John," he now said laughing, "I always was a most wretched +carver." + +"No, love, no," pleaded Emily to her husband in a quick low tone of +entreaty, and John, just in time to check himself in the act of rising, +turned the large dish toward him instead, and began to carve it, making +as if he had not heard Valentine's request. But Valentine having taken +some wine and rested for a few moments, after the slight exertion, which +had proved too much for his strength, looked at his sister till she +raised her eyes to meet his, smiled, and murmured to her across the +table, "You daughter of England, 'I perceive that in many things you are +too superstitious.'" + +Emily had nothing to say in reply. She had made involuntary betrayal of +her thought. She shrank from seeing her husband in her brother's place, +because she was anxious about, afraid for, this same brother. She had +even now and then a foreboding fear lest ere long she should see John +there for good. But to think so, was to take a good deal for granted, +and now Valentine chose to show her that he had understood her feeling +perfectly. + +She would fain not have spoken, but she could not now amend her words. +"Never was any one freer from superstition than he," she thought, "but +after all, in spite of what John tells me of his doctor's opinion, and +how the voyage is to restore him, why must I conceal an anxiety so +natural and so plainly called for? I will not. I shall speak. I shall +try to break down his reserve; give him all the comfort and counsel I +can, and get him to open his mind to me in the view of a possible +change." + +Emily was to take a drive at four o'clock, her husband and her brother +with her. + +In the meantime Valentine told her he was going to be busy, and John had +promised to help him. "An hour and a half," he sighed, as he mounted the +stairs with John to his old grandmother's sitting-room, "an hour and a +half, time enough and too much. I'll have it out, and get it over." + +"Now then," said John Mortimer, seating himself before a writing-table, +"tell me, my dear fellow, what it is that I can do to help you?" + +He did not find his position easy. Valentine had let him know pointedly +that he should not leave the estate to his half brother. All was in his +own power, yet John Mortimer might have been considered the rightful +heir. What so natural and likely as that it should be left to him? John +did not even feign to his own mind that he was indifferent about this, +he had all the usual liking for an old family place or possession. He +thought it probable that Valentine meant it to come to him, and wanted +to consult with him as to some burdens to be laid on the land for the +benefit of his mother's family. + +If Valentine's death in early youth had been but a remote contingency, +the matter could have been very easily discussed, but hour by hour John +Mortimer felt less assured that the poor young fellow's own hopeful view +was the true one. + +Valentine had extended himself again on the sofa. "I want you presently +to read some letters," he said; "they are in that desk, standing before +you." + +John opened it, and in the act of turning it towards him his eyes +wandered to the garden, and then to the lovely country beyond; they +seemed for the moment to be arrested by its beauty, and his hand paused. + +"What a landscape!" he said, "and how you have improved the place, Val! +I did not half do it justice the last time I came here." + +"I hate it," said Valentine with irritation, "and everything belonging +to it." + +John looked at him with scarcely any surprise. + +"That is only because you have got out of health since you came here; +you have not been able to enjoy life. But you are better, you know. You +are assured that you have good hope of coming back recovered. I devoutly +trust you may. Forget any morbid feelings that may have oppressed you. +The place is not to blame. Well, and these letters--I only see two. Are +they all?" + +"Yes. But, John, you can see that I am not very strong." + +"Yes, indeed," said John with an involuntary sigh. + +"Well, then, I want you to be considerate. I mean," he added, when he +perceived that he had now considerably astonished John Mortimer--"I mean +that when you have read them. I want you to take some little time to +think before you speak to me at all." + +"Why, this is in my uncle's handwriting!" exclaimed John. + +"Yes," answered Valentine, and he turned away as he still reclined, that +he might not see the reader, "so it is." + +Silence then--silence for a longer time than it could have taken to read +that letter. Valentine heard deep breathing from time to time, and the +rustling of pages turned and turned again. At last, when there was still +silence, he moved on the sofa and looked at his cousin. + +John was astonished, as was evident, and mystified; but more than that, +he was indignant and exceedingly alarmed. + +Valentine had asked him to be considerate. His temper was slightly +hasty; but he was bearing the request in mind, and controlling it, +though his heightened colour and flashing eyes showed that he suffered +keenly from a baffling sense of shame and impending disgrace. These +feelings, however, were subsiding, and as they retired his astonishment +seemed to grow, and his hand trembled when he folded up the letter for +the last time and laid it down. + +He took up the second letter, which was addressed to his grandmother, +and read it through. + +It set forth that the writer, Cuthbert Melcombe, being then in London, +had heard that morning the particulars of his young uncle's death at +sea, had heard it from one of the young man's brother officers, and felt +that he ought to detail them to his mother; he then went on to relate +certain commonplace incidents of a lingering illness and death at sea. + +After this he proceeded to inform his mother that he had bought for her +in Leadenhall Street the silver forks she had wished for, and was about +to pack them up, and send them (with this letter enclosed in the parcel) +by coach to Hereford, where his mother then was. + +"Why did you show me this?" said John in a low, husky tone. "There is +nothing in it." + +"I found it," Valentine replied, "carefully laid by itself in a desk, as +being evidently of consequence." + +"We know that all the other Melcombes died peaceably in their beds," +John answered; "and it shows (what I had been actually almost driven to +doubt) that this poor young fellow did also. There is no real evidence, +however, that the letter was written in London; it bears no post-mark." + +"No," said Valentine; "how could there be? It came in a parcel. THE +LETTER, John, will tell you nothing." + +"I don't like it," John Mortimer answered. "There is a singular +formality about the narrative;" and before he laid it down he lifted it +slightly, and, as it seemed half unconsciously, towards the light, and +then his countenance changed, and he said beneath his breath, "Oh, +that's it, is it!" + +Valentine started from the sofa. + +"What have you found?" he cried out, and, coming behind John, he also +looked through the paper, and saw in the substance of it a water-mark, +showing when it had been pressed. Eighteen hundred and seven was the +date. But this letter was elaborately dated from some hotel in London, +1804. "A lie! and come to light at last!" he said in an awe-struck +whisper. "It has deceived many innocent people. It has harboured here a +long time." + +"Now, wait a minute," answered John. "Stop--no more. You asked me to be +considerate to you. Be also considerate to me. If, in case of your +death, there is left on earth no wrong for me to right, I desire you to +be silent for ever." + +He took Valentine by the arm and helped him to the sofa, for he was +trembling with excitement and surprise. + +"There is no wrong that can be righted now," Valentine presently found +voice enough to say; "there never has been from the first, unless I am +mistaken." + +"Then I depend on your love for me and mine--your own family--to be +silent in life, and silent after death. See that no such letters as +these are left behind you." + +"I have searched the whole place, and there is not another letter--not +one line. You may well depend on me. I will be silent." + +John stood lost in thought and amazement; he read Daniel Mortimer's +letter again, folded it reverently, and pressed it between his hands. +"Well, I am grateful to him," Valentine heard him whisper, and he sank +into thought again. + +"Our fathers were perfectly blameless," said Valentine. + +John roused himself then. "Evidently, thank God! And now these two +letters--they concern no one but ourselves." He approached the grate; a +fire was burning in it. He lifted off the coals, making a hollow bed in +its centre. "You will let me burn them now, of course?" + +"Yes," said Valentine; "but not together." + +"No; you are right," John answered, and he took old Daniel Mortimer's +letter and laid it into the place he had prepared, covering it with the +glowing cinders, then with the poker he pushed the other between the +lower bars, and he and Valentine watched it till every atom was +consumed. + +There was no more for him to tell; John Mortimer thought he knew enough. +Valentine felt what a relief this was, but also that John's amazement by +no means subsided. He was trying hard to be gentle, to be moderately +calm; he resolutely forbore from any comment on Valentine's conduct; but +he could not help expressing his deep regret that the matter should have +been confided to any one--even to Brandon--and finding, perhaps, that +his horror and indignation were getting the better of him, he suddenly +started up, and declared that he would walk about in the gallery for +awhile. "For," he said pointedly to Valentine, "as you were remarking to +me this morning, there is a good deal that ought to be done at once," +and out he dashed into the fresh spring air, and strode about in the +long wooden gallery, with a vigour and vehemence that did not promise +much for the quietness of their coming discussion. + +Ten minutes, twenty minutes, went by--almost half an hour--before John +Mortimer came in again. + +Valentine looked up and saw, as John shut himself in, that he looked +almost as calm as usual, and that his face had regained its customary +hue. + +"My difficulty, of course, is Emily," he said. "If this had occurred a +year ago it would have been simpler." Valentine wondered what he meant; +but he presently added in a tone, however, as of one changing the +subject, "Well, my dear fellow, you were going to have a talk with me, +you know, about the making of your will. You remarked that you possessed +two thousand pounds." + +Valentine wondered at his coolness, he spoke so completely as usual. + +"And what would you have me do with that?" he answered with a certain +directness and docility that made John Mortimer pause; he perceived that +whatever he proposed would be done. + +"I think if you left a thousand pounds to the old aunt who brought your +mother up, and has a very scanty pittance, it would be worthy of your +kindly nature, and no more than her due." + +"Well, John, I'll do it. And the other thousand?" + +"Louisa has married a rich man's son, and I have made a handsome +settlement on Emily, but your sister Lizzie has nothing." + +"I will leave her the other thousand; and--and now, John, there is the +estate--there is Melcombe. I thought you had a right to know that there +had been a disadvantage as regarded my inheritance of it, but you are +perfectly----" He hesitated for a word. + +John turned his sentence rather differently for him, and went on with +it. "But you feel that I am perfectly entitled to give you my opinion?" + +"Certainly." + +"I advise that you leave it for a county hospital." + +"John!" + +"Unconditionally and for ever, for," John went on calmly and almost +gently, "we are here a very long way from the county town, where the +only hospital worth anything is situated. This house has, on two +stories, a corridor running completely through it, and is otherwise so +built that it would require little alteration for such a purpose. The +revenue from the land would go a good way towards supporting it. +Therefore, as I said before--" Then pausing, when he observed the effect +of his words on Valentine, he hesitated, and instead of going on, said, +"I am very sorry, my dear Valentine." + +"This is a shock to me," said Valentine. "It shows me so plainly that +you would not have acted as I have done, if you had been in my place." + +As he seemed to wait for an answer, John said, with more decided +gentleness, "I suppose it does;" and went on in a tone half apology, +half persuasion, "But you will see your lawyer to-morrow, and, using all +discretion, direct him as I propose." + +"Yes. Nothing at all is to go to you then?" + +"I should like to have this portrait of your father; and, Val, I wish to +assure you most sincerely that I do not judge your conduct. I have no +opinion to give upon it." + +"I have a good right to tell you now, that I have for some months fully +intended to give up the place." + +"Well, I am glad of that." + +"I hope to recover, and then to work, living abroad, the better to +conceal matters. I had quite decided, John; and yet what you have done +is a shock to me. I feel that I am judged by it. I told you in the +autumn that I meant to go away; I did. But though I took the estate so +easily, so almost inevitably, I could not get away from it, though I +wished and tried." + +"But you can now. If you want money, of course you will look to me to +help you. And so you could not manage to go?" + +"No. So long as I was well and in high spirits I never meant to go; but +one night I got a great shock, and walking home afterwards by the mere, +I felt the mist strike to my very marrow. I have never been well since. +I had no heart to recover; but when I might have got away I was detained +by that trumpery trial till I was so ill that I could not safely travel; +but now, John, I am ready, and you cannot imagine how I long to be off, +and, please God, begin a better life, and serve Him as my old father +did. I have three hundred pounds of honest money in hand, besides the +two thousand your father gave me. But, John, Emily is my favourite +sister." + +"There!" said John, "I was afraid this would come." + +"If I _should_ die young--if she _should_ find that I have left every +shilling and every acre away from you and her, two of the people I love +most, and thrown it into the hands of strangers, I could not bear to +know that she would think meanly of my good sense and my affection after +I am gone." + +John was silent. + +"For," continued Valentine, "no one feels more keenly than she does that +it is not charity, not a good work, in a man to leave from his own +family what he does not want and can no longer use, thinking that it is +just as acceptable to God as if he had given it in his lifetime, when he +liked it, enjoyed it--when, in short, it was his own." + +"You alienate it with no such thoughts." + +"Oh, no, God forbid! But she will think I must have done. There is +hardly any one living who cares for me as much as she does. It would be +very distressing for me to die, knowing she would think me a fanatic, or +a fellow with no affection." + +"I was afraid you would think of this." + +"You will say something to her, John. All will depend on you. She will +be so hurt, so astonished that I should have done such a thing that she +will never open her lips about it to you. I know her, and, and----" + +John seemed to feel this appeal very keenly: he could not look Valentine +in the face. "I acknowledge," he muttered, "that this is hard." + +"But you will say _something_ to her?" + +"If you can think of anything in the world that would not be better left +unsaid--if you can think of any one thing that for the sake of her love +and sorrow, and my peace and your own memory, should not be left to the +silence you deprecate--then tell me what it is." + +Neither spoke for some time after that. At last the poor young fellow +said, with something like a sob, "Then you meant _that_ when you +mentioned Emily?" + +"Yes, I did. I felt how hard it was. I feel it much more now I know you +are going to divest yourself of any profit during your life." He had +been looking at Valentine anxiously and intently. The large eyes, too +bright for health; the sharp, finely-cut features and pallid forehead. +Suddenly turning, he caught sight of himself in the glass, and stood +arrested by a momentary surprise. Very little accustomed to consider his +own appearance, for he had but a small share of personal vanity, he was +all the more astonished thus to observe the contrast. The fine hues of +health, the clear calm of the eyes, the wide shoulders and grand manly +frame. This sudden irresistible consciousness of what a world of life +and strength there was in him, had just the opposite effect of what +seemed the natural one. "Perhaps he may survive us both," he thought. +"Who can tell?" + +"But it seems to me," he continued aloud, "that we have talked as if it +was more than likely that Emily and I were to have some knowledge and +consciousness of this will of yours; and yet the vicissitudes of life +and the surprises of death ought to place them almost outside our +thoughts of probability, I hope to see you some day as grey-headed as +your father was. _I_ hope it indeed! it may well be the case, and I not +be here to see." + +Valentine, always hopeful, was very much cheered by this speech. He did +not know how John's thought had been turned in this direction by a +strong sense of that very improbability which he wanted to leave out of +the question. + +They remained some time in silence together after this--John lost in +thought, Valentine much the better for having relieved his mind. Then +Emily came to the door ready for her drive, and looking very sweet and +serene. + +"Come, you have been talking long enough. John, how grave you look! I +could not forbear to let you know that some letters have arrived. St. +George and Dorothea are at home again, and the baby can almost walk +alone. But, Val, it seems that you have been inviting young Crayshaw +here?" + +"I have taken that liberty, madam," said Valentine. "Have you anything +to say against it?" + +Emily smiled, but made no answer. + +"That boy and I suit each other uncommonly well," continued Valentine. +"Our correspondence, though I say it, would be worth publishing--stuck +as full of jokes as a pincushion should be of pins. It often amused me +when I was ill. But his brother is going to take him home." + +"Ah, home to America!" said Emily, betraying to neither John nor +Valentine the pleasure this news gave her. + +John was silent, still deeply pondering the unwelcome surprise of the +afternoon. Valentine was refreshed by her presence, and at finding his +avowal over. + +"And so," continued Valentine, "he wrote to me and asked if I would +have him for two days before he left. He knew that you would all be +here, and he wanted to take leave." + +"He is a droll young fellow," said Emily. "Johnnie will miss his 'chum.' +One of the letters was from him. He is to be here in an hour, and +Johnnie has started off to meet him, with Bertie and one of the girls." + +The other of the girls, namely, Gladys, had betrayed just a little +shyness, and had left his young allies to go and fetch Crayshaw without +her. Emily meeting her in the corridor as she came up-stairs, had +stopped and given her a cordial kiss. + +"She is so very young," thought the warm-hearted step-mother. "She will +soon forget it." + +She took Gladys with her, and after their short drive managed that they +should be together when young Crayshaw appeared; and she helped her +through a certain embarrassment and inclination to contradict herself +while answering his reproachful inquiries respecting Blob, his dog. + +"Father would not let us bring him," said Barbara, confirming the +assurance of the others on that head. + +"I have a great mind to go back all the way round by Wigfield to take +leave of him," said Crayshaw. "You think I don't love that dog? All I +know is, then, that I called him out of his kennel the last time I left +him--woke him from his balmy slumber, and kissed him." + +"Oh, yes, we know all about that," observed Barbara. "It was quite dusk, +mamma, and Johnnie had stuck up the kitchenmaid's great mop, leaning +against the roof of Blob's kennel, where he often sits when he is sulky. +We all went to see the fun, and Cray thrust his face into it. It looked +just like Blob's head." + +"I'm sure I don't know what A.J. Mortimer could see of a military nature +in that tender incident," said Crayshaw, with great mildness. "I did +not expect, after our long friendship, to have a Latin verse written +upon me, and called 'The Blunderbuss.'" + +Crayshaw had grown into a handsome young fellow, and looked old for his +years, and manly, though he was short. He had quite lost his former air +of delicate health, and, though sorry to part with the young Mortimers, +could not conceal a certain exultation in the thought of leaving school, +and returning to his native country. + +"Scroggins has been growing faster than ever," he said, half-enviously. +"Whenever he gets from under my eyes he takes advantage of it to run +up." + +Emily remonstrated. "I don't like to hear you call Johnnie 'Scroggins.'" + +"Oh, that's only my poetical way; the old poets frequently did it. +'Lines to his Mistress, Eliza Wheeler, under the name of Amaryllis.' You +often see that kind of thing. In the same way I write to my chum, A.J. +Mortimer, under the name of Scroggins. 'Scroggins, of vertuous father +vertuous son.' I think it sounds extremely well." + +Valentine was very well pleased the next afternoon to find himself +sitting among a posse of young Mortimers and Crayshaw, under the great +pear and apple trees, the latter just coming out to join their blossom +to that of their more forward neighbours. It was his nature to laugh and +make laugh, and his character to love youth, his own being peculiarly +youthful. His usual frame of mind was repentant and humble, and he was +very grateful for the apparent removal of illness. He was soon to be +well, and hope and joy woke up in his heart, and came forth to meet the +spring. + +John Mortimer and Emily sat near enough, without joining the group, to +catch the conversation, when they chose to listen. John was peculiarly +grave and silent, and Emily was touched for the supposed cause. +Valentine was the only relation left who had lived in his presence. She +knew he had almost a brother's affection and partial preference for +him. She knew that he had doubts and fears as to his health, and she +thought of nothing more as the cause of his silence and gravity. + +She made some remark as to Valentine's obvious improvement that morning; +in fact, his spirits were lightened, and that alone was enough to +refresh him. Things were making progress also in the direction he +wished; his berth was secured, his courier was engaged, and some of his +packing was done. + +By degrees the mere satisfaction of Emily's presence made it easier for +John Mortimer to accept the consolation of her hope. He began to think +that Valentine might yet do well, and the burnt letters receded into the +background of his thoughts. Why, indeed, unless his cousin died, need he +ever allow them to trouble him again? + +Valentine looked from time to time at John and at Emily, and considered +also the situation, thinking, "He loves her so, his contentment with her +is so supreme, that nothing of dead and done crime or misery will hang +about his thoughts long. He will get away, and in absence forget it, as +I shall. I'll take a long look, though, now, at these high gables, with +the sunshine on them, and at those strange casements, and these white +trees. I know I shall never regret them, but I shall wish to remember +what they were like." + +He looked long and earnestly at the place and at the group. The faces of +some were as grave as their father's. + +Little Hugh, having a great matter to decide, could hear and see nothing +that passed. What should he give Crayshaw for a keepsake? The best thing +he had was his great big plank, that he had meant to make into a +see-saw. It was such a beauty! Cray loved carpentering. Now, the +question was--Cray would like it, no doubt, but would the ship take it +over? How could it be packed? + +Next to him sat Gladys, and what she felt and thought she hardly knew +herself. A certain link was to be snapped asunder, which, like some +growing tendril, had spread itself over and seemed to unite two adjacent +trees. + +Cray was in very high spirits at the thought of going home. She felt she +might be dull when he was gone. + +She had read his letter to Johnnie; there was in it only a very slight +allusion to her. She had told him how the German governess had begun one +to her, "Girl of my heart." He had not answered, but he showed thus that +he had read her anecdote. + +His letter to Johnnie ran as follows:-- + +"Augustus John of my heart,--When I heard I was going home to America, I +heaved up one of the largest sighs that ever burst from a young-manly +bosom. I'm better now, thank you. In short, I feel that if I were to be +deprived of the fun of the voyage, it would blight a youth of heretofore +unusual promise. + +"George Crayshaw, when he saw my dismay at the notion of leaving this +little island (into which, though you should penetrate to the very +centre, you could never escape the salt taste of the sea-air on your +lips), said he was ashamed of me. The next day, when I was furious +because he declared that we couldn't sail for three weeks on account of +packing the rubbish he has collected, he said so again. There is a great +want of variety in that citizen," &c. + +Gladys was roused from her cogitations by hearing Valentine say-- + +"Sitting with your back to Barbara! You'll have to take some lessons in +manners before you go where they think that 'the proper study of mankind +is _wo_man.'" + +"It was I who moved behind him," said Barbara, "to get out of the sun." + +Crayshaw replied with a sweet smile and exceeding mildness of tone-- + +"Yes, I must begin to overhaul my manners at once. I must look out for +an advertisement that reads something like this:-- + +"'The undersigned begs to thank his friends and the public for their +continued patronage, and gives notice that gentlemen of neglected +education can take lessons of him as usual on his own premises, at +eightpence an hour, on the art of making offers to the fair sex. +N.B.--This course paid in advance. + +"'Dummy ladies provided as large as life. Every gentleman brings a clean +white pocket-handkerchief, and goes down on his own knees when he learns +this exercise, Fancy styles extra. + +"'Signed, + +"'Valentine Melcombe. + +"'References exchanged.'" + +"You impudent young dog!" exclaimed Valentine, delighted with this +sally, and not at all sorry that Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer were out of +hearing--they having risen and strolled down to a lower portion of the +orchard. + +Valentine was seated on a low garden-chair, and his young guests were +grouped about him on a Persian carpet which had been spread there. +Gladys was roused from her reverie by seeing Valentine snatch a piece of +paper from Crayshaw--peals of laughter following his pretended reading +of it. + +"They actually think, those two, of having their poems printed," Barbara +had been saying. + +"It would only cost about £30," said Crayshaw, excusing himself, "and +Mrs. Mortimer promised to subscribe for twenty copies. Why, Lord Byron +did it. If he wrote better Latin verse than Scroggins does, where is +it?" + +"The first one, then," said Barbara, "ought to be Johnnie's parody that +he did in the holidays. Mamma gave him a title for it, 'Ode on a Distant +Prospect of leaving Harrow School.'" + +Then it was that Valentine snatched the paper. + +"Most of them are quite serious," Crayshaw here remarked. + +"Ah, so this is the list of them," said Valentine, pretending to read:-- + +"'POEMS BY TWO SCHOOLBOYS.' + +"One.--'Lines written on a late Auspicious Occasion' (I do so like that +word auspicious), 'and presented to my new step-uncle-in-law, with a +smile and a tear.' I'll read them:-- + + "'Respecting thee with all my might, + Thy virtues thus I sing.'" + +"It's a story!" shouted Johnnie, interrupting him. "I don't respect you +a bit, and I never wrote it." + +"Two," proceeded Valentine, "'The Whisper, by a Lisper,' and 'The Stick +of Chocolate, a Reverie.' Now, do you mean to tell me that you did not +write these?" + +"No, I didn't! you know I didn't!" + +"Four," Valentine went on, "'The City of the Skunk, an Ode.' Now, Cray, +it is of no use your saying you did not write this, for you sent me a +copy, and told me that was the poetical name for Chicago." + +"Well," said Crayshaw, "I tried that subject because Mr. Mortimer said +something about the true sustenance of the poetic life coming from the +race and the soil to which the poet belonged; but George was so savage +when I showed it to him that I felt obliged to burn it." + +"Five.--'To Mrs. M. of M.,'" continued Valentine. "It seems to be a +song:-- + + "'Oh, clear as candles newly snuffed + Are those round orbs of thine.'" + +"It's false," exclaimed Crayshaw; "Mrs. Melcombe indeed! She's fat, +she's three times too old for me." + +"Why did you write it, then?" persisted Valentine. "I think this line,-- + + "'Lovely as waxwork is thy brow,' + +"does you great credit. But what avails it! She is now another's. I got +her wedding cards this morning. She is married to one Josiah Fothergill, +and he lives in Warwick Square. + +"Six--'The Black Eye, a Study from Life.'" + +"But their things are not all fun, cousin Val," said Gladys, observing, +not without pleasure, that Crayshaw was a little put out at Valentine's +joke about Mrs. Melcombe. "Cray is going to be a real poet now, and some +of his things are very serious indeed." + +"This looks very serious," Valentine broke in; "perhaps it is one of +them: 'Thoughts on Futurity, coupling with it the name of my Whiskers,'" + +"There's his ode to Sincerity," proceeded Gladys; "I am sure you would +like that." + +"For we tell so many stories, you know," remarked Barbara; "say so many +things that we don't mean. Cray thinks we ought not." + +"For instance," said Johnnie, "sometimes when people write that they are +coming to see us, we answer that we are delighted, when in reality we +wish that they were at the bottom of the sea." + +"No, no," answered Valentine, in a deprecatory tone; "don't say at the +bottom, that sounds unkind. I'm sure I never wished anybody more than +half-way down." + +Two or three days after this a grand early dinner took place at +Melcombe. All the small Mortimers were present, and a number of +remarkable keepsakes were bestowed afterwards on Crayshaw by way of +dessert. After this, while Mr. and Mrs. John Mortimer sat together in +the house the party adjourned to the orchard, and Crayshaw presently +appeared with a small box in which had hitherto been concealed his own +gifts of like nature. Among them were two gold lockets, one for each of +the twins. + +"I helped him to choose them," said Johnnie, "and he borrowed the money +of his brother." + +"There's nothing in them," observed Barbara. "It would be much more +romantic if we put in a lock of Cray's hair." + +"I thought of that," quoth the donor, "but I knew very well that the +first new friend you had, you would turn it out and put his in, just as +both of you turned my photograph out of those pretty frames, and put in +Prince Leopold after he had passed through the town. You are to wear +these lockets." + +"Oh yes," said Barbara, "and how pretty they are with their little gold +chains!" + +"Cray, if you will give me a lock of your hair, I promise not to take it +out," said Gladys. + +She produced a little pair of scissors, and as he sat at her feet, cut +off a small curl, and between them they put it in. A certain wistfulness +was in her youthful face, but no one noticed it. + +"I shouldn't wonder," she remarked, "if you never came back any more." + +"Oh yes, I shall," he answered in a tone of equal conviction and +carelessness. + +"Why? you have no friends at all but us." + +"No, I haven't," he answered, and looked up at her as she stood +knitting, and leaning against a tree. + +"Of course you'll come," exclaimed Johnnie, "you're coming for your +wedding tour. Your wife will make you; you're going to be married as +soon as you're of age, old fellow." + +Then Crayshaw, blushing hotly, essayed to hit Johnnie, who forthwith +started up and was pursued by him with many a whoop and shout, in a wild +circling chase among the trees. At length, finding he was not to be +caught, Crayshaw returned a good deal heated, and Johnnie followed +smiling blandly, and flung himself on the grass breathing hard. + +"Well, I'm glad you two are not going to finish up your friendship with +another fight," said Valentine. + +"He's always prophesying something horrid about me," exclaimed Crayshaw. +"Why am I to be married any more than he is, I should like to know? If I +do, you'll certainly have to give up that visit to California, that Mr. +Mortimer almost promised you should make with me. Gladys, I suppose he +would not let you and Barbara come too?" + +"Oh no. I am sure he would not." + +"What fun we might have!" + +"Yes." + +"I don't see if you were a family man, why it shouldn't be done," said +Johnnie, returning to the charge, "but if you won't marry, even to +oblige your oldest friends, why you won't." + +"Time's up," said Valentine, looking at his watch, "and there's my +dog-cart coming round to the door." + +The youth rose then with a sigh, took leave of Valentine, and +reluctantly turned towards the house, all the young Mortimers following. +They were rather late for the train, so that the parting was hurried, +and poor little Gladys as she gazed after the dog-cart, while Johnnie +drove and Crayshaw looked back, felt a great aching pain at her heart, +and thought she should never forget him. + +But perhaps she did. + +The young Mortimers were to leave Melcombe themselves the next day, and +Valentine was to accompany them home, sleeping one night at their +father's house by way of breaking his journey, and seeing his family +before he started on his voyage. + +He was left alone, and watched his guests as their receding figures were +lost among the blossoming trees. He felt strangely weak that afternoon, +but he was happy. The lightness of heart that comes of giving up some +wrong or undesirable course of action (one that he thought wrong) might +long have been his, but he had not hitherto been able to get away from +the scene of it. + +To-morrow he was to depart. Oh, glad to-morrow! + +He laid himself back in his seat, and looked at the blue hills, and +listened to the sweet remote voices of the children, let apple-blossoms +drop all over him, peered through great brown boughs at the empty sky, +and lost himself in a sea of thought which seemed almost as new to him +and as fathomless as that was. + +Not often does a man pass his whole life before him and deliberately +criticize himself, his actions and his way. + +If he does, it is seldom when he would appear to an outsider to have +most reasonable occasion; rather during some pause when body and mind +both are still. + +The soul does not always recognise itself as a guest seated within this +frame; sometimes it appears to escape and look at the human life it has +led, as if from without. It seems to become absorbed into the august +stream of being; to see that fragment _itself_, without self-love, and +as the great all of mankind would regard it if laid open to them. + +It perceives the inevitable verdict. Thus and thus have I done. They +will judge me rightly, that thus and thus I am. + +If a man is reasonable and sees things as they were, he does not often +fix on some particular act for which to blame himself when he deplores +the past, for at times of clear vision, the soul escapes from the +bondage of incident. It gets away from the region of particulars, and +knows itself by nature even better than by deed. There is a common +thought that beggars sympathy in almost every shallow mind. It seldom +finds deliberate expression. Perhaps it may be stated thus:-- + +The greatness of the good derived from it, makes the greatness of the +fault. + +A man tells a great lie, and saves his character by it. No wonder it +weighs on his conscience ever after. And yet perhaps he has told +countless lies, both before and since, told them out of mere +carelessness, or from petty spite or for small advantages, and utterly +forgotten them. Now which of these, looked at by the judge, is the great +offender? Is the one lie he repents of the most wicked, or are those +that with small temptation he flung about daily, and so made that one +notable lie easy? + +Was it strange that Valentine, looking back, should not with any special +keenness of pain have rued his mistake in taking Melcombe? + +No. That was a part of himself. It arose naturally out of his character, +which, but for that one action, he felt he never might have fully known. + +So weak, so longing for pleasure and ease, so faintly conscious of any +noble desire for good, so wrapped up in a sense as of the remoteness of +God, how could it be otherwise? + +If a man is a Christian, he derives often in such thoughts a healing +consciousness of the Fatherhood and Humanity of God. He perceives that +he was most to be pitied and least to be judged, not while he stood, but +when he fell. There is no intention of including here hardened crimes of +dishonesty, and cruelty, and violence, only those pathetic descents +which the ingrain faults and original frailty of our nature make so +easy, and which life and the world are so arranged as to punish even +after a loving God forgives. + +"Those faults," he may say, "they seem to live, though I shall die. They +are mine, though I lose all else beside. Where can I lay them down, +where lose them? Is there any healing to be found other than in His +sympathy, His forgiveness who made our nature one with His to raise it +to Himself?" + +The world is not little. Life is not mean. It spreads itself in +aspiration, it has possession through its hope. It inhabits all +remoteness that the eye can reach; it inherits all sweetness that the +ear can prove; always bereaved of the whole, it yet looks for a whole; +always clasping its little part, it believes in the remainder. +Sometimes, too often, like a bird it gets tangled in a net which +notwithstanding it knew of. It must fly with broken wings ever alter. +Or, worse, it is tempted to descend, as the geni into the vase, for a +little while, when sealed down at once unaware, it must lie in the dark +so long, that it perhaps denies the light in heaven for lack of seeing +it. + +If those who have the most satisfying lot that life can give are to +breathe freely, they must get through, and on, and out of it. + +Not because it is too small for us, but too great, it bears so many +down. On the whole that vast mass of us which inherits its narrowest +portion, tethered, and that on the world's barest slope, does best. + +The rich and the free have a choice, they often choose amiss. Yet no +choice can (excepting for this world) be irretrievable; and that same +being for whom the great life of the world proved too much, learns often +in the loss of everything, what his utmost gain was not ordained to +teach. + +He wanted all, and at last he can take that all, without which nothing +can make him content. He perceives, and his heart makes answer to, the +yearning Fatherhood above; he recognises the wonderful upward drawing +with love and fear. + + "This is God! + He moves me so, to take of Him what lacks; + My want is God's desire to give; He yearns + To add Himself to life, and so for aye + Make it enough." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +HIS VISITOR. + + + "The fairy woman maketh moan, + 'Well-a-day, and well-a-day, + Forsooth I brought thee one rose, one, + and thou didst cast my rose away.' + Hark! Oh hark, she mourneth yet, + 'One good ship--the good ship sailed, + One bright star, at last it set, + one, one chance, forsooth it failed.' + + "'Clear thy dusk hair from thy veiled eyes, + show thy face as thee beseems, + For yet is starlight in the skies, + weird woman piteous through my dreams, + 'Nay,' she mourns, 'forsooth not now, + veiled I sit for evermore, + Rose is shed, and charmèd prow + shall not touch the charmèd shore. + + "There thy sons that were to be, + thy small gamesome children play; + There all loves that men foresee + straight as wands enrich the way. + Dove-eyed, fair, with me they wonn + where enthroned I reign a queen, + In the lovely realms foregone, + in the lives that might have been." + +That glad to-morrow for Valentine never came. At the time when he should +have reached Wigfield, a letter summoned his brother to Melcombe. + +Emily and John Mortimer had delayed their return, for Valentine, whether +from excitement at the hope of setting off, or from the progress of his +disease, had been attacked, while sitting out of doors, with such sudden +prostration of strength that he was not got back again to the house +without the greatest difficulty. They opened a wide window of the "great +parlour," laid him on a couch, and then for some hours it seemed +doubtful whether he would rally. + +He was very calm and quiet about it, did not at all give up hope, but +assented when his sister said, "May I write to St. George to come to +you?" and sent a message in the letter, asking his brother to bring his +wife and child. + +He seemed to be much better when they arrived, and for two or three days +made good progress towards recovery; but the doctors would not hear of +his attempting to begin his journey, or even of his rising from the bed +which had been brought down for him into the wide, old-fashioned +parlour. + +And so it came to pass that Brandon found himself alone about midnight +with Valentine, after a very comfortable day of little pain or +discomposure. All the old intimacy had returned now, and more than the +old familiar affection. Giles was full of hope, which was all the +stronger because Valentine did not himself manifest that unreasonable +hopefulness which in a consumptive patient often increases as strength +declines. + +His will was signed, and in his brother's keeping; all his affairs were +settled. + +"I know," he had said to his brother, "that I have entirely brought this +illness on myself. I was perfectly well. I often think that if I had +never come here I should have been so still. I had my choice; I had my +way. But if I recover, as there seems still reason to think I may, I +hope it will be to lead a higher and happier life. Perhaps even some +day, though always repenting it, I may be able to look back on this +fault and its punishment of illness and despondency with a thankful +heart. It showed me myself. I foresee, I almost possess such a feeling +already. It seems to have been God's way of bringing me near to Him. +Sometimes I feel as if I could not have done without it." + +Valentine said these words before he fell asleep that night, and Giles, +as he sat by him, was impressed by them, and pondered on them. So young +a man seldom escapes from the bonds of his own reticence, when speaking +of his past life, his faults, and his religious feelings. This was not +like Valentine. He was changed, but that, considering what he had +undergone, did not surprise a man who could hope and believe anything of +him, so much as did his open, uncompromising way of speaking about such +a change. + +"And yet it seems strange," Valentine added, after a pause, "that we +should be allowed, for want of knowing just a little more, to throw +ourselves away." + +"We Could hardly believe that it was in us, any of us, to throw +ourselves away," Brandon answered, "if we were always warned to the +point of prevention." + +Valentine sighed. "I suppose we cannot have it both ways. If God, +because man is such a sinner, so overruled and overawed him that no +crime could be committed, he would be half-unconscious of the sin in his +nature, and would look up no more either for renewal or forgiveness. Men +obliged to abstain from evil could not feel that their nature was lower +than their conduct. When I have wished, Giles, as I often have done +lately, that I could have my time over again, I have felt consoled, in +knowing this could not be, to recollect how on the consciousness of the +fault is founded the conscious longing for pardon. But I will tell you +more of all this to-morrow," he added; and soon after that he fell +asleep. + +A nurse was to have watched with him that night, but Brandon could not +sleep, and he desired that she should rest in an adjacent room till he +called her. In the meantime, never more hopeful since he had first seen +Valentine on reaching Melcombe, he continued to sit by his bed, +frequently repeating that he would go up-stairs shortly, but not able to +do it. + +At one o'clock Valentine woke, and Brandon, half excusing himself for +being still there, said he could not sleep, and liked better to wake in +that room than anywhere else. + +Valentine was very wakeful now, and restless; he took some nourishment, +and then wanted to talk. All sorts of reminiscences of his childhood and +early youth seemed to be present with him. He could not be still, and at +length Brandon proposed to read to him, and brought the lamp near, +hoping to read him to sleep. + +There was but one book to be read to a sick man in the dead of the +night, when all the world was asleep, and great gulfs of darkness lurked +in the corners of the room. + +Giles read, and felt that Valentine was gradually growing calmer. He +almost thought he might be asleep, when he said--"St. George, there's no +air in this room." + +"You must not have the windows open," answered Brandon. + +"Read me those last words again, then," said Valentine, "and let me look +out; it's so dark here." + +Brandon read, "The fulness of Him that filleth all in all." + +Valentine asked to have the curtain drawn back, and for more than an +hour continued gazing out at the great full moon now rapidly southing, +and at the lofty pear-trees, so ghostly white, showering down their +blossom in the night. Brandon also sat looking now at the scene, now at +him, till the welcome rest of another sleep came to him; and the moon +went down, leaving their shaded lamp to lighten the space near it, and +gleam on the gilding of quaint old cabinets and mirrors, and frames +containing portraits of dead Melcombes, not one of whom either of these +brothers had ever seen. + +Brandon sat deep in thought, and glad to hear Valentine breathing so +quietly, when the first solemn approaches of dawn appeared in the east; +and as he turned to notice the change, Valentine woke, and gazed out +also among the ghostly trees. + +"There he is," said Valentine, in his usual tone of voice. + +"Who is?" asked Brandon. + +"My father--don't you see him walking among the trees? He came to see my +uncle--I told you so!" + +Brandon was inexpressibly startled. He leaned neared, and looked into +Valentine's wide-open eyes, in which was no sign of fear or wonder. + +"Why, you are half asleep, you have been dreaming," he presently said, +in a reassuring tone. "Wake up, now; see how fast the morning dawns." + +Valentine made him no answer, but he looked as usual. There was nothing +to bespeak increased illness till he spoke again, faintly and +fast--"Dorothea--did he bring Dorothea?" + +Giles then perceived with alarm that he was not conscious of his +presence--took no notice of his answer. He leaned down with sudden and +eager affright, and heard Valentine murmur--"I thought he would have let +me kiss her once before I went away." + +Brandon started from his knees by Valentine's bed as this last faint +utterance reached him, and rushed up-stairs to his wife's room with all +the speed he could command. + +Oh, so fast asleep! her long hair loose on the pillow. How fair she +looked, and how serene, in her dimpled, child-like beauty! + +"Love, love!--wake up, love! I want you, Dorothea." + +She opened her startled eyes, and turned with a mother's instinct to +glance at her little child, who was asleep beside her, looking scarcely +more innocent than herself. + +"Love, make haste! Valentine is very ill. I want you to come to him. +Where's your dressing-gown?--why here. Are you awake now? What is it, do +you ask? Oh, I cannot tell--but I fear, I fear." + +He rushed down-stairs again, and was supporting Valentine's head with +his arm when Dorothea appeared, and stopped for one instant in the +doorway, arrested by some solemn words. Could it be Valentine that +spoke? There was a change in his voice that startled her, and as she +came on her face was full of tender and awe-struck wonder. + +"The fulness of Him," he said, "that filleth all in all." + +Brandon looked up, and in the solemn dawn beheld her advancing in her +long white drapery, and with her fair hair falling about her face. She +looked like one of those angels that men behold in their dreams. + +Valentine's eyes were slowly closing. + +"Kiss him, my life!" said Brandon, and she came on, and kneeling beside +him put her sweet mouth to his. + +Valentine did not have that kiss! + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12303 *** |