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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34539-8.txt b/34539-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0935211 --- /dev/null +++ b/34539-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7337 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume I (of 3), by +Mary E. Braddon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume I (of 3) + +Author: Mary E. Braddon + +Release Date: December 1, 2010 [EBook #34539] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY, VOL I *** + + + + +Produced by Clare Graham, using scans from the Internet Archive + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + +BY [M.E. Braddon] THE AUTHOR OF +"LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," +ETC. ETC. ETC. + + +IN THREE VOLUMES. + +VOL.I. + + +Published by Tinsley Brothers of London in 1863 (third edition). + + +THIS STORY + +Is Dedicated + +TO + +MY MOTHER + + + + +CONTENTS. + CHAPTER I. THE MAN WITH THE BANNER. + CHAPTER II. LITTLE MARY. + CHAPTER III. ABOUT THE LINCOLNSHIRE PROPERTY. + CHAPTER IV. GOING AWAY. + CHAPTER V. MARCHMONT TOWERS. + CHAPTER VI. THE YOUNG SOLDIER'S RETURN. + CHAPTER VII. OLIVIA. + CHAPTER VIII. "MY LIFE IS COLD, AND DARK, AND DREARY." + CHAPTER IX. "WHEN SHALL I CEASE TO BE ALL ALONE?" + CHAPTER X. MARY'S STEPMOTHER. + CHAPTER XI. THE DAY OF DESOLATION. + CHAPTER XII. PAUL. + CHAPTER XIII. OLIVIA'S DESPAIR. + CHAPTER XIV. DRIVEN AWAY. + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + + + +VOLUME I. + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE MAN WITH THE BANNER. + + +The history of Edward Arundel, second son of Christopher Arundel +Dangerfield Arundel, of Dangerfield Park, Devonshire, began on a +certain dark winter's night upon which the lad, still a schoolboy, went +with his cousin, Martin Mostyn, to witness a blank-verse tragedy at one +of the London theatres. + +There are few men who, looking back at the long story of their lives, +cannot point to one page in the record of the past at which the actual +history of life began. The page may come in the very middle of the +book, perhaps; perhaps almost at the end. But let it come where it +will, it is, after all, only the actual commencement. At an appointed +hour in man's existence, the overture which has been going on ever +since he was born is brought to a sudden close by the sharp vibration +of the prompter's signal-bell; the curtain rises, and the drama of life +begins. Very insignificant sometimes are the first scenes of the +play,--common-place, trite, wearisome; but watch them closely, and +interwoven with every word, dimly recognisable in every action, may be +seen the awful hand of Destiny. The story has begun: already we, the +spectators, can make vague guesses at the plot, and predicate the +solemn climax; it is only the actors who are ignorant of the meaning of +their several parts, and who are stupidly reckless of the obvious +catastrophe. + +The story of young Arundel's life began when he was a light-hearted, +heedless lad of seventeen, newly escaped for a brief interval from the +care of his pastors and masters. + +The lad had come to London on a Christmas visit to his father's sister, +a worldly-minded widow, with a great many sons and daughters, and an +income only large enough to enable her to keep up the appearances of +wealth essential to the family pride of one of the Arundels of +Dangerfield. + +Laura Arundel had married a Colonel Mostyn, of the East India Company's +service, and had returned from India after a wandering life of some +years, leaving her dead husband behind her, and bringing away with her +five daughters and three sons, most of whom had been born under canvas. + +Mrs. Mostyn bore her troubles bravely, and contrived to do more with +her pension, and an additional income of four hundred a year from a +small fortune of her own, than the most consummate womanly management +can often achieve. Her house in Montague Square was elegantly +furnished, her daughters were exquisitely dressed, her sons sensibly +educated, her dinners well cooked. She was not an agreeable woman; she +was perhaps, if any thing, too sensible,--so very sensible as to be +obviously intolerant of anything like folly in others. She was a good +mother; but by no means an indulgent one. She expected her sons to +succeed in life, and her daughters to marry rich men; and would have +had little patience with any disappointment in either of these +reasonable expectations. She was attached to her brother Christopher +Arundel, and she was very well pleased to spend the autumn months at +Dangerfield, where the hunting-breakfasts gave her daughters an +excellent platform for the exhibition of charming demi-toilettes and +social and domestic graces, perhaps more dangerous to the susceptible +hearts of rich young squires than the fascinations of a _valse à deux +temps_ or an Italian scena. + +But the same Mrs. Mostyn, who never forgot to keep up her +correspondence with the owner of Dangerfield Park, utterly ignored the +existence of another brother, a certain Hubert Arundel, who had, +perhaps, much more need of her sisterly friendship than the wealthy +Devonshire squire. Heaven knows, the world seemed a lonely place to +this younger son, who had been educated for the Church, and was fain to +content himself with a scanty living in one of the dullest and dampest +towns in fenny Lincolnshire. His sister might have very easily made +life much more pleasant to the Rector of Swampington and his only +daughter; but Hubert Arundel was a great deal too proud to remind her +of this. If Mrs. Mostyn chose to forget him,--the brother and sister +had been loving friends and dear companions long ago, under the beeches +at Dangerfield,--she was welcome to do so. She was better off than he +was; and it is to be remarked, that if A's income is three hundred a +year, and B's a thousand, the chances are as seven to three that B will +forget any old intimacy that may have existed between himself and A. +Hubert Arundel had been wild at college, and had put his autograph +across so many oblong slips of blue paper, acknowledging value received +that had been only half received, that by the time the claims of all +the holders of these portentous morsels of stamped paper had been +satisfied, the younger son's fortune had melted away, leaving its +sometime possessor the happy owner of a pair of pointers, a couple of +guns by crack makers, a good many foils, single-sticks, boxing-gloves, +wire masks, basket helmets, leathern leg-guards, and other +paraphernalia, a complete set of the old _Sporting Magazine_, from 1792 +to the current year, bound in scarlet morocco, several boxes of very +bad cigars, a Scotch terrier, and a pipe of undrinkable port. + +Of all these possessions, only the undrinkable port now remained to +show that Hubert Arundel had once had a decent younger son's fortune, +and had succeeded most admirably in making ducks and drakes of it. The +poor about Swampington believed in the sweet red wine, which had been +specially concocted for Israelitish dealers in jewelry, cigars, +pictures, wines, and specie. The Rector's pensioners smacked their lips +over the mysterious liquid and confidently affirmed that it did them +more good than all the doctor's stuff the parish apothecary could send +them. Poor Hubert Arundel was well content to find that at least this +scanty crop of corn had grown up from the wild oats he had sown at +Cambridge. The wine pleased the poor creatures who drank it, and was +scarcely likely to do them any harm; and there was a reasonable +prospect that the last bottle would by-and-by pass out of the rectory +cellars, and with it the last token of that bitterly regretted past. + +I have no doubt that Hubert Arundel felt the sting of his only sister's +neglect, as only a poor and proud man can feel such an insult; but he +never let any confession of this sentiment escape his lips; and when +Mrs. Mostyn, being seized with a fancy for doing this forgotten brother +a service, wrote him a letter of insolent advice, winding up with an +offer to procure his only child a situation as nursery governess, the +Rector of Swampington only crushed the missive in his strong hand, and +flung it into his study-fire, with a muttered exclamation that sounded +terribly like an oath. + +"A _nursery_ governess!" he repeated, savagely; "yes; an underpaid +drudge, to teach children their A B C, and mend their frocks and make +their pinafores. I should like Mrs. Mostyn to talk to my little Livy +for half an hour. I think my girl would have put the lady down so +completely by the end of that time, that we should never hear any more +about nursery governesses." + +He laughed bitterly as he repeated the obnoxious phrase; but his laugh +changed to a sigh. + +Was it strange that the father should sigh as he remembered how he had +seen the awful hand of Death fall suddenly upon younger and stronger +men than himself? What if he were to die, and leave his only child +unmarried? What would become of her, with her dangerous gifts, with her +fatal dowry of beauty and intellect and pride? + +"But she would never do any thing wrong," the father thought. "Her +religious principles are strong enough to keep her right under any +circumstances, in spite of any temptation. Her sense of duty is more +powerful than any other sentiment. She would never be false to that; +she would never be false to that." + +In return for the hospitality of Dangerfield Park, Mrs. Mostyn was in +the habit of opening her doors to either Christopher Arundel or his +sons, whenever any one of the three came to London. Of course she +infinitely preferred seeing Arthur Arundel, the eldest son and heir, +seated at her well-spread table, and flirting with one of his pretty +cousins, than to be bored with his rackety younger brother, a noisy lad +of seventeen, with no better prospects than a commission in her +Majesty's service, and a hundred and fifty pounds a year to eke out his +pay; but she was, notwithstanding, graciously pleased to invite Edward +to spend his Christmas holidays in her comfortable household; and it +was thus it came to pass that on the 29th of December, in the year +1838, the story of Edward Arundel's life began in a stage-box at Drury +Lane Theatre. + +The box had been sent to Mrs. Mostyn by the fashionable editor of a +fashionable newspaper; but that lady and her daughters being previously +engaged, had permitted the two boys to avail themselves of the +editorial privilege. + +The tragedy was the dull production of a distinguished literary +amateur, and even the great actor who played the principal character +could not make the performance particularly enlivening. He certainly +failed in impressing Mr. Edward Arundel, who flung himself back in his +chair and yawned dolefully during the earlier part of the +entertainment. + +"It ain't particularly jolly, is it, Martin?" he said naïvely, "Let's +go out and have some oysters, and come in again just before the +pantomime begins." + +"Mamma made me promise that we wouldn't leave the theatre till we left +for good, Ned," his cousin answered; "and then we're to go straight +home in a cab." + +Edward Arundel sighed. + +"I wish we hadn't come till half-price, old fellow," he said drearily. +"If I'd known it was to be a tragedy, I wouldn't have come away from +the Square in such a hurry. I wonder why people write tragedies, when +nobody likes them." + +He turned his back to the stage, and folded his arms upon the velvet +cushion of the box preparatory to indulging himself in a deliberate +inspection of the audience. Perhaps no brighter face looked upward that +night towards the glare and glitter of the great chandelier than that +of the fair-haired lad in the stage-box. His candid blue eyes beamed +with a more radiant sparkle than any of the myriad lights in the +theatre; a nimbus of golden hair shone about his broad white forehead; +glowing health, careless happiness, truth, good-nature, honesty, boyish +vivacity, and the courage of a young lion,--all were expressed in the +fearless smile, the frank yet half-defiant gaze. Above all, this lad of +seventeen looked especially what he was,--a thorough gentleman. Martin +Mostyn was prim and effeminate, precociously tired of life, +precociously indifferent to everything but his own advantage; but the +Devonshire boy's talk was still fragrant with the fresh perfume of +youth and innocence, still gay with the joyous recklessness of early +boyhood. He was as impatient for the noisy pantomime overture, and the +bright troops of fairies in petticoats of spangled muslin, as the most +inveterate cockney cooling his snub-nose against the iron railing of +the gallery. He was as ready to fall in love with the painted beauty of +the ill-paid ballet-girls, as the veriest child in the wide circle of +humanity about him. Fresh, untainted, unsuspicious, he looked out at +the world, ready to believe in everything and everybody. + +"How you do fidget, Edward!" whispered Martin Mostyn peevishly; "why +don't you look at the stage? It's capital fun." + +"Fun!" + +"Yes; I don't mean the tragedy you know, but the supernumeraries. Did +you ever see such an awkward set of fellows in all your life? There's a +man there with weak legs and a heavy banner, that I've been watching +all the evening. He's more fun than all the rest of it put together." + +Mr. Mostyn, being of course much too polite to point out the man in +question, indicated him with a twitch of his light eyebrows; and Edward +Arundel, following that indication, singled out the banner-holder from +a group of soldiers in medieval dress, who had been standing wearily +enough upon one side of the stage during a long, strictly private and +confidential dialogue between the princely hero of the tragedy and one +of his accommodating satellites. The lad uttered a cry of surprise as +he looked at the weak-legged banner-holder. + +Mr. Mostyn turned upon his cousin with some vexation. + +"I can't help it, Martin," exclaimed young Arundel; "I can't be +mistaken--yes--poor fellow, to think that he should come to this!--you +haven't forgotten him, Martin, surely?" + +"Forgotten what--forgotten whom? My dear Edward, what _do_ you mean?" + +"John Marchmont, the poor fellow who used to teach us mathematics at +Vernon's; the fellow the governor sacked because----" + +"Well, what of him?" + +"The poor chap with the banner!" exclaimed the boy, in a breathless +whisper; "don't you see, Martin? didn't you recognise him? It's +Marchmont, poor old Marchmont, that we used to chaff, and that the +governor sacked because he had a constitutional cough, and wasn't +strong enough for his work." + +"Oh, yes, I remember him well enough," Mr. Mostyn answered, +indifferently. "Nobody could stand his cough, you know; and he was a +vulgar fellow, into the bargain." + +"He wasn't a vulgar fellow," said Edward indignantly;--"there, there's +the curtain down again;--he belonged to a good family in Lincolnshire, +and was heir-presumptive to a stunning fortune. I've heard him say so +twenty times." + +Martin Mostyn did not attempt to repress an involuntary sneer, which +curled his lips as his cousin spoke. + +"Oh, I dare say you've heard _him_ say so, my dear boy," he murmured +superciliously. + +"Ah, and it was true," cried Edward; "he wasn't a fellow to tell lies; +perhaps he'd have suited Mr. Vernon better if he had been. He had bad +health, and was weak, and all that sort of thing; but he wasn't a snob. +He showed me a signet-ring once that he used to wear on his +watch-chain----" + +"A _silver_ watch-chain," simpered Mr. Mostyn, "just like a +carpenter's." + +"Don't be such a supercilious cad, Martin. He was very kind to me, poor +Marchmont; and I know I was always a nuisance to him, poor old fellow; +for you know I never could get on with Euclid. I'm sorry to see him +here. Think, Martin, what an occupation for him! I don't suppose he +gets more than nine or ten shillings a week for it." + +"A shilling a night is, I believe, the ordinary remuneration of a +stage-soldier. They pay as much for the real thing as for the sham, you +see; the defenders of our country risk their lives for about the same +consideration. Where are you going, Ned?" + +Edward Arundel had left his place, and was trying to undo the door of +the box. + +"To see if I can get at this poor fellow." + +"You persist in declaring, then, that the man with the weak legs is our +old mathematical drudge? Well, I shouldn't wonder. The fellow was +coughing all through the five acts, and that's uncommonly like +Marchmont. You're surely not going to renew your acquaintance with +him?" + +But young Arundel had just succeeded in opening the door, and he left +the box without waiting to answer his cousin's question. He made his +way very rapidly out of the theatre, and fought manfully through the +crowds who were waiting about the pit and gallery doors, until he found +himself at the stage-entrance. He had often looked with reverent wonder +at the dark portal; but he had never before essayed to cross the sacred +threshold. But the guardian of the gate to this theatrical paradise, +inhabited by fairies at a guinea a week, and baronial retainers at a +shilling a night, is ordinarily a very inflexible individual, not to be +corrupted by any mortal persuasion, and scarcely corruptible by the +more potent influence of gold or silver. Poor Edward's half-a-crown had +no effect whatever upon the stern door-keeper, who thanked him for his +donation, but told him that it was against his orders to let anybody go +up-stairs. + +"But I want to see some one so particularly," the boy said eagerly. +"Don't you think you could manage it for me, you know? He's an old +friend of mine,--one of the supernu--what's-its-names?" added Edward, +stumbling over the word. "He carried a banner in the tragedy, you know; +and he's got such an awful cough, poor chap." + +"Ze man who garried ze panner vith a gough," said the door-keeper +reflectively. He was an elderly German, and had kept guard at that +classic doorway for half-a-century or so; "Parking Cheremiah." + +"Barking Jeremiah!" + +"Yes, sir. They gall him Parking pecause he's berbetually goughin' his +poor veag head off; and they gall him Cheremiah pecause he's alvays +belangholy." + +"Oh, do let me see him," cried Mr. Edward Arundel. "I know you can +manage it; so do, that's a good fellow. I tell you he's a friend of +mine, and quite a gentleman too. Bless you, there isn't a move in +mathematics he isn't up to; and he'll come into a fortune some of these +days--" + +"Yaase," interrupted the door-keeper, sarcastically, "Zey bake von of +him pegause off dad." + +"And can I see him?" + +"I phill dry and vind him vor you. Here, you Chim," said the +door-keeper, addressing a dirty youth, who had just nailed an official +announcement of the next morning's rehearsal upon the back of a +stony-hearted swing-door, which was apt to jam the fingers of the +uninitiated,--"vot is ze name off yat zuber vith ze pad gough, ze man +zay gall Parking." + +"Oh, that's Morti-more." + +"To you know if he's on in ze virsd zene?" + +"Yes. He's one of the demons; but the scene's just over. Do you want +him?" + +"You gan dake ub zis young chendleman's gard do him, and dell him to +slib town here if he has kod a vaid," said the door-keeper. + +Mr. Arundel handed his card to the dirty boy. + +"He'll come to me fast enough, poor fellow," he muttered. "I usen't to +chaff him as the others did, and I'm glad I didn't, now." + +Edward Arundel could not easily forget that one brief scrutiny in which +he had recognised the wasted face of the schoolmaster's hack, who had +taught him mathematics only two years before. Could there be anything +more piteous than that degrading spectacle? The feeble frame, scarcely +able to sustain that paltry one-sided banner of calico and tinsel; the +two rude daubs of coarse vermilion upon the hollow cheeks; the black +smudges that were meant for eyebrows; the wretched scrap of horsehair +glued upon the pinched chin in dismal mockery of a beard; and through +all this the pathetic pleading of large hazel eyes, bright with the +unnatural lustre of disease, and saying perpetually, more plainly than +words can speak, "Do not look at me; do not despise me; do not even +pity me. It won't last long." + +That fresh-hearted schoolboy was still thinking of this, when a wasted +hand was laid lightly and tremulously on his arm, and looking up he saw +a man in a hideous mask and a tight-fitting suit of scarlet and gold +standing by his side. + +"I'll take off my mask in a minute, Arundel," said a faint voice, that +sounded hollow and muffled within a cavern of pasteboard and +wickerwork. "It was very good of you to come round; very, very good!" + +"I was so sorry to see you here, Marchmont; I knew you in a moment, in +spite of the disguise." + +The supernumerary had struggled out of his huge head-gear by this time, +and laid the fabric of papier-mâché and tinsel carefully aside upon a +shelf. He had washed his face before putting on the mask, for he was +not called upon to appear before a British public in martial semblance +any more upon that evening. The pale wasted face was interesting and +gentlemanly, not by any means handsome, but almost womanly in its +softness of expression. It was the face of a man who had not yet seen +his thirtieth birthday; who might never live to see it, Edward Arundel +thought mournfully. + +"Why do you do this, Marchmont?" the boy asked bluntly. + +"Because there was nothing else left for me to do," the stage-demon +answered with a sad smile. "I can't get a situation in a school, for my +health won't suffer me to take one; or it won't suffer any employer to +take me, for fear of my falling ill upon his hands, which comes to the +same thing; so I do a little copying for the law-stationers, and this +helps out that, and I get on as well as I can. I wouldn't so much mind +if it wasn't for--" + +He stopped suddenly, interrupted by a paroxysm of coughing. + +"If it wasn't for whom, old fellow?" + +"My poor little girl; my poor little motherless Mary." + +Edward Arundel looked grave, and perhaps a little ashamed of himself. +He had forgotten until this moment that his old tutor had been left a +widower at four-and-twenty, with a little daughter to support out of +his scanty stipend. + +"Don't be down-hearted, old fellow," the lad whispered, tenderly; +"perhaps I shall be able to help you, you know. And the little girl can +go down to Dangerfield; I know my mother would take care of her, and +will keep her there till you get strong and well. And then you might +start a fencing-room, or a shooting-gallery, or something of that sort, +at the West End; and I'd come to you, and bring lots of fellows to you, +and you'd get on capitally, you know." + +Poor John Marchmont, the asthmatic supernumerary, looked perhaps the +very last person in the world whom it could be possible to associate +with a pair of foils, or a pistol and a target; but he smiled faintly +at his old pupil's enthusiastic talk. + +"You were always a good fellow, Arundel," he said, gravely. "I don't +suppose I shall ever ask you to do me a service; but if, by-and-by, +this cough makes me knock under, and my little Polly should be +left--I--I think you'd get your mother to be kind to her,--wouldn't +you, Arundel?" + +A picture rose before the supernumerary's weary eyes as he said this; +the picture of a pleasant lady whose description he had often heard +from the lips of a loving son, a rambling old mansion, wide-spreading +lawns, and long arcades of oak and beeches leading away to the blue +distance. If this Mrs. Arundel, who was so tender and compassionate and +gentle to every red-cheeked cottage-girl who crossed her +pathway,--Edward had told him this very often,--would take compassion +also upon this little one! If she would only condescend to see the +child, the poor pale neglected flower, the fragile lily, the frail +exotic blossom, that was so cruelly out of place upon the bleak +pathways of life! + +"If that's all that troubles you," young Arundel cried eagerly, "you +may make your mind easy, and come and have some oysters. We'll take +care of the child. I'll adopt her, and my mother shall educate her, and +she shall marry a duke. Run away, now, old fellow, and change your +clothes, and come and have oysters, and stout out of the pewter." + +Mr. Marchmont shook his head. + +"My time's just up," he said; "I'm on in the next scene. It was very +kind of you to come round, Arundel; but this isn't exactly the best +place for you. Go back to your friends, my dear boy, and don't think +any more of me. I'll write to you some day about little Mary." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind," exclaimed the boy. "You'll give me +your address instanter, and I'll come to see you the first thing +to-morrow morning, and you'll introduce me to little Mary; and if she +and I are not the best friends in the world, I shall never again boast +of my successes with lovely woman. What's the number, old fellow?" + +Mr. Arundel had pulled out a smart morocco pocket-book and a gold +pencil-case. + +"Twenty-seven, Oakley Street, Lambeth. But I'd rather you wouldn't +come, Arundel; your friends wouldn't like it." + +"My friends may go hang themselves. I shall do as I like, and I'll be +with you to breakfast, sharp ten." + +The supernumerary had no time to remonstrate. The progress of the +music, faintly audible from the lobby in which this conversation had +taken place, told him that his scene was nearly on. + +"I can't stop another moment. Go back to your friends, Arundel. Good +night. God bless you!" + +"Stay; one word. The Lincolnshire property--" + +"Will never come to me, my boy," the demon answered sadly, through his +mask; for he had been busy re-investing himself in that demoniac guise. +"I tried to sell my reversion, but the Jews almost laughed in my face +when they heard me cough. Good night." + +He was gone, and the swing-door slammed in Edward Arundel's face. The +boy hurried back to his cousin, who was cross and dissatisfied at his +absence. Martin Mostyn had discovered that the ballet-girls were all +either old or ugly, the music badly chosen, the pantomime stupid, the +scenery a failure. He asked a few supercilious questions about his old +tutor, but scarcely listened to Edward's answers; and was intensely +aggravated with his companion's pertinacity in sitting out the comic +business--in which poor John Marchmont appeared and re-appeared; now as +a well-dressed passenger carrying a parcel, which he deliberately +sacrificed to the felonious propensities of the clown; now as a +policeman, now as a barber, now as a chemist, now as a ghost; but +always buffeted, or cajoled, or bonneted, or imposed upon; always +piteous, miserable, and long-suffering; with arms that ached from +carrying a banner through five acts of blank-verse weariness, with a +head that had throbbed under the weight of a ponderous edifice of +pasteboard and wicker, with eyes that were sore with the evil influence +of blue-fire and gunpowder smoke, with a throat that had been poisoned +by sulphurous vapours, with bones that were stiff with the playful +pummelling of clown and pantaloon; and all for--a shilling a night! + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +LITTLE MARY. + + +Poor John Marchmont had given his address unwillingly enough to his old +pupil. The lodging in Oakley Street was a wretched back-room upon the +second-floor of a house whose lower regions were devoted to that +species of establishment commonly called a "ladies' wardrobe." The poor +gentleman, the teacher of mathematics, the law-writer, the Drury-Lane +supernumerary, had shrunk from any exposure of his poverty; but his +pupil's imperious good-nature had overridden every objection, and John +Marchmont awoke upon the morning after the meeting at Drury-Lane to the +rather embarrassing recollection that he was to expect a visitor to +breakfast with him. + +How was he to entertain this dashing, high-spirited young schoolboy, +whose lot was cast in the pleasant pathways of life, and who was no +doubt accustomed to see at his matutinal meal such luxuries as John +Marchmont had only beheld in the fairy-like realms of comestible beauty +exhibited to hungry foot-passengers behind the plate-glass windows of +Italian warehouses? + +"He has hams stewed in Madeira, and Perigord pies, I dare say, at his +Aunt Mostyn's," John thought, despairingly. "What can I give him to +eat?" + +But John Marchmont, after the manner of the poor, was apt to +over-estimate the extravagance of the rich. If he could have seen the +Mostyn breakfast then preparing in the lower regions of Montague +Square, he might have been considerably relieved; for he would have +only beheld mild infusions of tea and coffee--in silver vessels, +certainly--four French rolls hidden under a glistening damask napkin, +six triangular fragments of dry toast, cut from a stale half-quartern, +four new-laid eggs, and about half a pound of bacon cut into rashers of +transcendental delicacy. Widow ladies who have daughters to marry do +not plunge very deep into the books of Messrs. Fortnum and Mason. + +"He used to like hot rolls when I was at Vernon's," John thought, +rather more hopefully; "I wonder whether he likes hot rolls still?" + +Pondering thus, Mr. Marchmont dressed himself,--very neatly, very +carefully; for he was one of those men whom even poverty cannot rob of +man's proudest attribute, his individuality. He made no noisy protest +against the humiliations to which he was compelled to submit; he +uttered no boisterous assertions of his own merit; he urged no +clamorous demand to be treated as a gentleman in his day of misfortune; +but in his own mild, undemonstrative way he did assert himself, quite +as effectually as if he had raved all day upon the hardship of his lot, +and drunk himself mad and blind under the pressure of his calamities. +He never abandoned the habits which had been peculiar to him from his +childhood. He was as neat and orderly in his second-floor-back as he +had been seven or eight years before in his simple apartments at +Cambridge. He did not recognise that association which most men +perceive between poverty and shirt-sleeves, or poverty and beer. He was +content to wear threadbare cloth, but adhered most obstinately to a +prejudice in favour of clean linen. He never acquired those lounging +vagabond habits peculiar to some men in the day of trouble. Even +amongst the supernumeraries of Drury Lane, he contrived to preserve his +self-respect; if they nicknamed him Barking Jeremiah, they took care +only to pronounce that playful sobriquet when the gentleman-super was +safely out of hearing. He was so polite in the midst of his reserve, +that the person who could wilfully have offended him must have been +more unkindly than any of her Majesty's servants. It is true, that the +great tragedian, on more than one occasion, apostrophised the +weak-kneed banner-holder as "BEAST" when the super's cough had +peculiarly disturbed his composure; but the same great man gave poor +John Marchmont a letter to a distinguished physician, compassionately +desiring the relief of the same pulmonary affection. If John Marchmont +had not been prompted by his own instincts to struggle against the evil +influences of poverty, he would have done battle sturdily for the sake +of one who was ten times dearer to him than himself. + +If he _could_ have become a swindler or a reprobate,--it would have +been about as easy for him to become either as to have burst at once, +and without an hour's practice, into a full-blown Léotard or +Olmar,--his daughter's influence would have held him back as securely +as if the slender arms twined tenderly about him had been chains of +adamant forged by an enchanter's power. + +How could he be false to his little one, this helpless child, who had +been confided to him in the darkest hour of his existence; the hour in +which his wife had yielded to the many forces arrayed against her in +life's battle, and had left him alone in the world to fight for his +little girl? + +"If I were to die, I think Arundel's mother would be kind to her," John +Marchmont thought, as he finished his careful toilet. "Heaven knows, I +have no right to ask or expect such a thing; but Polly will be rich +by-and-by, perhaps, and will be able to repay them." + +A little hand knocked lightly at the door of his room while he was +thinking this, and a childish voice said, + +"May I come in, papa?" + +The little girl slept with one of the landlady's children, in a room +above her father's. John opened the door, and let her in. The pale +wintry sunshine, creeping in at the curtainless window near which Mr. +Marchmont sat, shone full upon the child's face as she came towards +him. It was a small, pale face, with singularly delicate features, a +tiny straight nose, a pensive mouth, and large thoughtful hazel eyes. +The child's hair fell loosely upon her shoulders; not in those +corkscrew curls so much affected by mothers in the humbler walks of +life, nor yet in those crisp undulations lately adopted in Belgravian +nurseries; but in soft silken masses, only curling at the extreme end +of each tress. Miss Marchmont--she was always called Miss Marchmont in +that Oakley Street household--wore her brown-stuff frock and scanty +diaper pinafore as neatly as her father wore his threadbare coat and +darned linen. She was very pretty, very lady-like, very interesting; +but it was impossible to look at her without a vague feeling of pain, +that was difficult to understand. You knew, by-and-by, why you were +sorry for this little girl. She had never been a child. That divine +period of perfect innocence,--innocence of all sorrow and trouble, +falsehood and wrong,--that bright holiday-time of the soul, had never +been hers. The ruthless hand of poverty had snatched away from her the +gift which God had given her in her cradle; and at eight years old she +was a woman,--a woman invested with all that is most beautiful amongst +womanly attributes--love, tenderness, compassion, carefulness for +others, unselfish devotion, uncomplaining patience, heroic endurance. +She was a woman by reason of all these virtues; but she was no longer a +child. At three years old she had bidden farewell for ever to the +ignorant selfishness, the animal enjoyment of childhood, and had +learned what it was to be sorry for poor papa and mamma; and from that +first time of awakening to the sense of pity and love, she had never +ceased to be the comforter of the helpless young husband who was so +soon to be left wifeless. + +John had been compelled to leave his child, in order to get a living +for her and for himself in the hard service of Mr. Laurence Vernon, the +principal of the highly select and expensive academy at which Edward +Arundel and Martin Mostyn had been educated. But he had left her in +good hands; and when the bitter day of his dismissal came, he was +scarcely as sorry as he ought to have been for the calamity which +brought him back to his little Mary. It is impossible for any words of +mine to tell how much he loved the child; but take into consideration +his hopeless poverty, his sensitive and reserved nature, his utter +loneliness, the bereavement that had cast a shadow upon his youth, and +you will perhaps understand an affection that was almost morbid in its +intensity, and which was reciprocated most fully by its object. The +little girl loved her father _too much_. When he was with her, she was +content to sit by his side, watching him as he wrote; proud to help +him, if even by so much as wiping his pens or handing him his +blotting-paper; happy to wait upon him, to go out marketing for him, to +prepare his scanty meals, to make his tea, and arrange and re-arrange +every object in the slenderly furnished second-floor back-room. They +talked sometimes of the Lincolnshire fortune,--the fortune which +_might_ come to Mr. Marchmont, if three people, whose lives when Mary's +father had last heard of them, were each worth three times his own +feeble existence, would be so obliging as to clear the way for the +heir-at-law, by taking an early departure to the churchyard. A more +practical man than John Marchmont would have kept a sharp eye upon +these three lives, and by some means or other contrived to find out +whether number one was consumptive, or number two dropsical, or number +three apoplectic; but John was utterly incapable of any such +Machiavellian proceeding. I think he sometimes beguiled his weary walks +between Oakley Street and Drury Lane by the dreaming of such childish +day-dreams as I should be almost ashamed to set down upon this sober +page. The three lives might all happen to be riding in the same express +upon the occasion of a terrible collision; but the poor fellow's gentle +nature shrank appalled before the vision he had invoked. He could not +sacrifice a whole train-full of victims, even for little Mary. He +contented himself with borrowing a "Times" newspaper now and then, and +looking at the top of the second column, with the faint hope that he +should see his own name in large capitals, coupled with the +announcement that by applying somewhere he might hear of something to +his advantage. He contented himself with this, and with talking about +the future to little Mary in the dim firelight. They spent long hours +in the shadowy room, only lighted by the faint flicker of a pitiful +handful of coals; for the commonest dip-candles are +sevenpence-halfpenny a pound, and were dearer, I dare say, in the year +'38. Heaven knows what splendid castles in the air these two +simple-hearted creatures built for each other's pleasure by that +comfortless hearth. I believe that, though the father made a pretence +of talking of these things only for the amusement of his child, he was +actually the more childish of the two. It was only when he left that +fire-lit room, and went back into the hard, reasonable, commonplace +world, that he remembered how foolish the talk was, and how it was +impossible--yes, impossible--that he, the law-writer and supernumerary, +could ever come to be master of Marchmont Towers. + +Poor little Mary was in this less practical than her father. She +carried her day-dreams into the street, until all Lambeth was made +glorious by their supernal radiance. Her imagination ran riot in a +vision of a happy future, in which her father would be rich and +powerful. I am sorry to say that she derived most of her ideas of +grandeur from the New Cut. She furnished the drawing-room at Marchmont +Towers from the splendid stores of an upholsterer in that thoroughfare. +She laid flaming Brussels carpets upon the polished oaken floors which +her father had described to her, and hung cheap satin damask of +gorgeous colours before the great oriel windows. She put gilded vases +of gaudy artificial flowers on the high carved mantel-pieces in the old +rooms, and hung a disreputable gray parrot--for sale at a +greengrocer's, and given to the use of bad language--under the stone +colonnnade at the end of the western wing. She appointed the +tradespeople who should serve the far-away Lincolnshire household; the +small matter of distance would, of course, never stand in the way of +her gratitude and benevolence. Her papa would employ the civil +greengrocer who gave such excellent halfpennyworths of watercresses; +the kind butterman who took such pains to wrap up a quarter of a pound +of the best eighteenpenny fresh butter for the customer whom he always +called "little lady;" the considerate butcher who never cut _more_ than +the three-quarters of a pound of rump-steak, which made an excellent +dinner for Mr. Marchmont and his little girl. Yes, all these people +should be rewarded when the Lincolnshire property came to Mary's papa. +Miss Marchmont had some thoughts of building a shop close to Marchmont +Towers for the accommodating butcher, and of adopting the greengrocer's +eldest daughter for her confidante and companion. Heaven knows how many +times the little girl narrowly escaped being run over while walking the +material streets in some ecstatic reverie such as this; but Providence +was very careful of the motherless girl, and she always returned safely +to Oakley Street with her pitiful little purchases of tea and sugar, +butter and meat. You will say, perhaps, that at least these foolish +day-dreams were childish; but I maintain still, that Mary's soul had +long ago bade adieu to infancy, and that even in these visions she was +womanly; for she was always thoughtful of others rather than of +herself, and there was a great deal more of the practical business of +life mingled with the silvery web of her fancies than there should have +been so soon after her eighth birthday. At times, too, an awful horror +would quicken the pulses of her loving heart as she heard the hacking +sound of her father's cough; and a terrible dread would seize her,--the +fear that John Marchmont might never live to inherit the Lincolnshire +fortune. The child never said her prayers without adding a little +extempore supplication, that she might die when her father died. It was +a wicked prayer, perhaps; and a clergyman might have taught her that +her life was in the hands of Providence; and that it might please Him +who had created her to doom her to many desolate years of loneliness; +and that it was not for her, in her wretched and helpless ignorance, to +rebel against His divine will. I think if the Archbishop of Canterbury +had driven from Lambeth Palace to Oakley Street to tell little Mary +this, he would have taught her in vain; and that she would have fallen +asleep that night with the old prayer upon her lips, the fond foolish +prayer that the bonds which love had woven so firmly might never be +roughly broken by death. + +Miss Marchmont heard the story of last night's meeting with great +pleasure, though it must be owned she looked a little grave when she +was told that the generous-hearted school-boy was coming to breakfast; +but her gravity was only that of a thoughtful housekeeper, who ponders +ways and means, and even while you are telling her the number and +quality of your guests, sketches out a rough ground-plan of her dishes, +considers the fish in season, and the soups most fitting to precede +them, and balances the contending advantages of Palestine and Julienne +or Hare and Italian. + +"A 'nice' breakfast you say, papa," she said, when her father had +finished speaking; "then we must have watercresses, _of course_." + +"And hot rolls, Polly dear. Arundel was always fond of hot rolls." + +"And hot rolls, four for threepence-halfpenny in the Cut."--(I am +ashamed to say that this benighted child talked as deliberately of the +"Cut" as she might have done of the "Row.")--"There'll be one left for +tea, papa; for we could never eat four rolls. They'll take _such_ a lot +of butter, though." + +The little housekeeper took out an antediluvian bead-purse, and began +to examine her treasury. Her father handed all his money to her, as he +would have done to his wife; and Mary doled him out the little sums he +wanted,--money for half an ounce of tobacco, money for a pint of beer. +There were no penny papers in those days, or what a treat an occasional +"Telegraph" would have been to poor John Marchmont! + +Mary had only one personal extravagance. She read novels,--dirty, +bloated, ungainly volumes,--which she borrowed from a snuffy old woman +in a little back street, who charged her the smallest hire ever known +in the circulating-library business, and who admired her as a wonder of +precocious erudition. The only pleasure the child knew in her father's +absence was the perusal of these dingy pages; she neglected no duty, +she forgot no tender office of ministering care for the loved one who +was absent; but when all the little duties had been finished, how +delicious it was to sit down to "Madeleine the Deserted," or "Cosmo the +Pirate," and to lose herself far away in illimitable regions, peopled +by wandering princesses in white satin, and gentlemanly bandits, who +had been stolen from their royal fathers' halls by vengeful hordes of +gipsies. During these early years of poverty and loneliness, John +Marchmont's daughter stored up, in a mind that was morbidly sensitive +rather than strong, a terrible amount of dim poetic sentiment; the +possession of which is scarcely, perhaps, the best or safest dower for +a young lady who has life's journey all before her. + +At half-past nine o'clock, all the simple preparations necessary for +the reception of a visitor had been completed by Mr. Marchmont and his +daughter. All vestiges of John's bed had disappeared; leaving, it is +true, rather a suspicious-looking mahogany chest of drawers to mark the +spot where once a bed had been. The window had been opened, the room +aired and dusted, a bright little fire burned in the shining grate, and +the most brilliant of tin tea-kettles hissed upon the hob. The white +table-cloth was darned in several places; but it was a remnant of the +small stock of linen with which John had begun married life; and the +Irish damask asserted its superior quality, in spite of many darns, as +positively as Mr. Marchmont's good blood asserted itself in spite of +his shabby coat. A brown teapot full of strong tea, a plate of French +rolls, a pat of fresh butter, and a broiled haddock, do not compose a +very epicurean repast; but Mary Marchmont looked at the humble +breakfast as a prospective success. + +"We could have haddocks every day at Marchmont Towers, couldn't we, +papa?" she said naïvely. + +But the little girl was more than delighted when Edward Arundel dashed +up the narrow staircase, and burst into the room, fresh, radiant, +noisy, splendid, better dressed even than the waxen preparations of +elegant young gentlemen exhibited at the portal of a great outfitter in +the New Cut, and yet not at all like either of those red-lipped types +of fashion. How delighted the boy declared himself with every thing! He +had driven over in a cabriolet, and he was awfully hungry, he informed +his host. The rolls and watercresses disappeared before him as if by +magic; little Mary shivered at the slashing cuts he made at the butter; +the haddock had scarcely left the gridiron before it was no more. + +"This is ten times better than Aunt Mostyn's skinny breakfasts," the +young gentleman observed candidly. "You never get enough with her. Why +does she say, 'You won't take another egg, will you, Edward?' if she +wants me to have one? You should see our hunting-breakfasts at +Dangerfield, Marchmont. Four sorts of claret, and no end of Moselle and +champagne. You shall go to Dangerfield some day, to see my mother, Miss +Mary." + +He called her "Miss Mary," and seemed rather shy of speaking to her. +Her womanliness impressed him in spite of himself. He had a fancy that +she was old enough to feel the humiliation of her father's position, +and to be sensitive upon the matter of the two-pair back; and he was +sorry the moment after he had spoken of Dangerfield. + +"What a snob I am!" he thought; "always bragging of home." + +But Mr. Arundel was not able to stop very long in Oakley Street, for +the supernumerary had to attend a rehearsal at twelve o'clock; so at +half-past eleven John Marchmont and his pupil went out together, and +little Mary was left alone to clear away the breakfast, and perform the +rest of her household duties. + +She had plenty of time before her, so she did not begin at once, but +sat upon a stool near the fender, gazing dreamily at the low fire. + +"How good and kind he is!" she thought; "just like Cosmo,--only Cosmo +was dark; or like Reginald Ravenscroft,--but then he was dark too. I +wonder why the people in novels are always dark? How kind he is to +papa! Shall we ever go to Dangerfield, I wonder, papa and I? Of course +I wouldn't go without papa." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +ABOUT THE LINCOLNSHIRE PROPERTY. + + +While Mary sat absorbed in such idle visions as these, Mr. Marchmont +and his old pupil walked towards Waterloo Bridge together. + +"I'll go as far as the theatre with you, Marchmont," the boy said; +"it's my holidays now, you know, and I can do as I like. I am going to +a private tutor in another month, and he's to prepare me for the army. +I want you to tell me all about that Lincolnshire property, old boy. Is +it anywhere near Swampington?" + +"Yes; within nine miles." + +"Goodness gracious me! Lord bless my soul! what an extraordinary +coincidence! My uncle Hubert's Rector of Swampington--such a hole! I go +there sometimes to see him and my cousin Olivia. Isn't she a stunner, +though! Knows more Greek and Latin than I, and more mathematics than +you. Could eat our heads off at any thing." + +John Marchmont did not seem very much impressed by the coincidence that +appeared so extraordinary to Edward Arundel; but, in order to oblige +his friend, he explained very patiently and lucidly how it was that +only three lives stood between him and the possession of Marchmont +Towers, and all lands and tenements appertaining thereto. + +"The estate's a very large one," he said finally; "but the idea of _my_ +ever getting it is, of course, too preposterous." + +"Good gracious me! I don't see that at all," exclaimed Edward with +extraordinary vivacity. "Let me see, old fellow; if I understand your +story right, this is how the case stands: your first cousin is the +present possessor of Marchmont Towers; he has a son, fifteen years of +age, who may or may not marry; only one son, remember. But he has also +an uncle--a bachelor uncle, and your uncle, too--who, by the terms of +your grandfather's will, must get the property before you can succeed +to it. Now, this uncle is an old man: so of course _he'll_ die soon. +The present possessor himself is a middle-aged man; so I shouldn't +think _he_ can be likely to last long. I dare say he drinks too much +port, or hunts, or something of that sort; goes to sleep after dinner, +and does all manner of apoplectic things, I'll be bound. Then there's +the son, only fifteen, and not yet marriageable; consumptive, I dare +say. Now, will you tell me the chances are not six to six he dies +unmarried? So you see, my dear old boy, you're sure to get the fortune; +for there's nothing to keep you out of it, except--" + +"Except three lives, the worst of which is better than mine. It's kind +of you to look at it in this sanguine way, Arundel; but I wasn't born +to be a rich man. Perhaps, after all, Providence has used me better +than I think. I mightn't have been happy at Marchmont Towers. I'm a +shy, awkward, humdrum fellow. If it wasn't for Mary's sake--" + +"Ah, to be sure!" cried Edward Arundel. "You're not going to forget all +about--Miss Marchmont!" He was going to say "little Mary," but had +checked himself abruptly at the sudden recollection of the earnest +hazel eyes that had kept wondering watch upon his ravages at the +breakfast-table. "I'm sure Miss Marchmont's born to be an heiress. I +never saw such a little princess." + +"What!" demanded John Marchmont sadly, "in a darned pinafore and a +threadbare frock?" + +The boy's face flushed, almost indignantly, as his old master said +this. + +"You don't think I'm such a snob as to admire a lady"--he spoke thus of +Miss Mary Marchmont, yet midway between her eighth and ninth +birthday--"the less because she isn't rich? But of course your daughter +will have the fortune by-and-by, even if--" + +He stopped, ashamed of his want of tact; for he knew John would divine +the meaning of that sudden pause. + +"Even if I should die before Philip Marchmont," the teacher of +mathematics answered, quietly. "As far as that goes, Mary's chance is +as remote as my own. The fortune can only come to her in the event of +Arthur dying without issue, or, having issue, failing to cut off the +entail, I believe they call it." + +"Arthur! that's the son of the present possessor?" + +"Yes. If I and my poor little girl, who is delicate like her mother, +should die before either of these three men, there is another who will +stand in my shoes, and will look out perhaps more eagerly than I have +done for his chances of getting the property." + +"Another!" exclaimed Mr. Arundel. "By Jove, Marchmont, it's the most +complicated affair I ever heard of. It's worse than those sums you used +to set me in barter: 'If A. sells B. 999 Stilton cheeses at 9 1/2_d_ a +pound,' and all that sort of thing, you know. Do make me understand it, +old fellow, if you can." + +John Marchmont sighed. + +"It's a wearisome story, Arundel," he said. "I don't know why I should +bore you with it." + +"But you don't bore me with it," cried the boy energetically. "I'm +awfully interested in it, you know; and I could walk up and down here +all day talking about it." + +The two gentlemen had passed the Surrey toll-gate of Waterloo Bridge by +this time. The South-Western Terminus had not been built in the year +'38, and the bridge was about the quietest thoroughfare any two +companions confidentially inclined could have chosen. The shareholders +knew this, to their cost. + +Perhaps Mr. Marchmont might have been beguiled into repeating the old +story, which he had told so often in the dim firelight to his little +girl; but the great clock of St. Paul's boomed forth the twelve +ponderous strokes that told the hour of noon, and a hundred other +steeples upon either side of the water made themselves clamorous with +the same announcement. + +"I must leave you, Arundel," the supernumerary said hurriedly; he had +just remembered that it was time for him to go and be browbeaten by a +truculent stage-manager. "God bless you, my dear boy! It was very good +of you to want to see me, and the sight of your fresh face has made me +very happy. I _should_ like you to understand all about the +Lincolnshire property. God knows there's small chance of its ever +coming to me or to my child; but when I am dead and gone, Mary will be +left alone in the world, and it would be some comfort to me to know +that she was not without _one_ friend--generous and disinterested like +you, Arundel,--who, if the chance _did_ come, would see her righted." + +"And so I would," cried the boy eagerly. His face flushed, and his eyes +fired. He was a preux chevalier already, in thought, going forth to do +battle for a hazel-eyed mistress. + +"I'll _write_ the story, Arundel," John Marchmont said; "I've no time +to tell it, and you mightn't remember it either. Once more, good-bye; +once more, God bless you!" + +"Stop!" exclaimed Edward Arundel, flushing a deeper red than +before,--he had a very boyish habit of blushing,--"stop, dear old boy. +You must borrow this of me, please. I've lots of them. I should only +spend it on all sorts of bilious things; or stop out late and get +tipsy. You shall pay me with interest when you get Marchmont Towers. I +shall come and see you again soon. Good-bye." + +The lad forced some crumpled scrap of paper into his old tutor's hand, +bolted through the toll-bar, and jumped into a cabriolet, whose +high-stepping charger was dawdling along Lancaster Place. + +The supernumerary hurried on to Drury Lane as fast as his weak legs +could carry him. He was obliged to wait for a pause in the rehearsal +before he could find an opportunity of looking at the parting gift +which his old pupil had forced upon him. It was a crumpled and rather +dirty five-pound note, wrapped round two half-crowns, a shilling, and +half-a-sovereign. + +The boy had given his friend the last remnant of his slender stock of +pocket-money. John Marchmont turned his face to the dark wing that +sheltered him, and wept silently. He was of a gentle and rather womanly +disposition, be it remembered; and he was in that weak state of health +in which a man's eyes are apt to moisten, in spite of himself, under +the influence of any unwonted emotion. + +He employed a part of that afternoon in writing the letter which he had +promised to send to his boyish friend:-- + +"MY DEAR ARUNDEL, + +"My purpose in writing to you to-day is so entirely connected with the +future welfare of my beloved and only child, that I shall carefully +abstain from any subject not connected with her interests. I say +nothing, therefore, respecting your conduct of this morning, which, +together with my previous knowledge of your character, has decided me +upon confiding to you the doubts and fears which have long tormented me +upon the subject of my darling's future. + +"I am a doomed man, Arundel! The doctors have told me this; but they +have told me also that, though I can never escape the sentence of death +which was passed upon me long ago, I may live for some years if I live +the careful life which only a rich man can lead. If I go on carrying +banners and breathing sulphur, I cannot last long. My little girl will +be left penniless, but not quite friendless; for there are humble +people, relatives of her poor mother, who would help her kindly, I am +sure, in their own humble way. The trials which I fear for my orphan +girl are not so much the trials of poverty as the dangers of wealth. If +the three men who, on my death, would alone stand between Mary and the +Lincolnshire property die childless, my poor darling will become the +only obstacle in the pathway of a man whom, I will freely own to you, I +distrust. + +"My father, John Marchmont, was the third of four brothers. The eldest, +Philip, died leaving one son, also called Philip, and the present +possessor of Marchmont Towers. The second, Marmaduke, is still alive, a +bachelor. The third, John, left four children, of whom I alone survive. +The fourth, Paul, left a son and two daughters. The son is an artist, +exercising his profession now in London; one of the daughters is +married to a parish surgeon, who practises at Stanfield, in +Lincolnshire; the other is an old maid, and entirely dependent upon her +brother. + +"It is this man, Paul Marchmont the artist, whom I fear. + +"Do not think me weak, or foolishly suspicious, Arundel, when I tell +you that the very thought of this man brings the cold sweat upon my +forehead, and seems to stop the beating of my heart. I know that this +is a prejudice, and an unworthy one. I do not believe Paul Marchmont is +a good man; but I can assign no sufficient reason for my hatred and +terror of him. It is impossible for you, a frank and careless boy, to +realise the feelings of a man who looks at his only child, and +remembers that she may soon be left, helpless and defenceless, to fight +the battle of life with a bad man. Sometimes I pray to God that the +Marchmont property may never come to my child after my death; for I +cannot rid myself of the thought--may Heaven forgive me for its +unworthiness!--that Paul Marchmont would leave no means untried, +however foul, to wrest the fortune from her. I dare say worldly people +would laugh at me for writing this letter to you, my dear Arundel; but +I address myself to the best friend I have,--the only creature I know +whom the influence of a bad man is never likely to corrupt. _Noblesse +oblige!_ I am not afraid that Edward Dangerfield Arundel will betray +any trust, however foolish, that may have been confided to him. + +"Perhaps, in writing to you thus, I may feel something of that blind +hopefulness--amid the shipwreck of all that commonly gives birth to +hope--which the mariner cast away upon some desert island feels, when +he seals his simple story in a bottle, and launches it upon the waste +of waters that close him in on every side. Before my little girl is +four years older, you will be a man, Arundel--with a man's intellect, a +man's courage, and, above all, a man's keen sense of honour. So long as +my darling remains poor, her humble friends will be strong enough to +protect her; but if ever Providence should think fit to place her in a +position of antagonism to Paul Marchmont,--for he would look upon any +one as an enemy who stood between him and fortune,--she would need a +far more powerful protector than any she could find amongst her poor +mother's relatives. Will _you_ be that protector, Edward Arundel? I am +a drowning man, you see, and catch at the frailest straw that floats +past me. I believe in you, Edward, as much as I distrust Paul +Marchmont. If the day ever comes in which my little girl should have to +struggle with this man, will you help her to fight the battle? It will +not be an easy one. + +"Subjoined to this letter I send you an extract from the copy of my +grandfather's will, which will explain to you how he left his property. +Do not lose either the letter or the extract. If you are willing to +undertake the trust which I confide to you to-day, you may have need to +refer to them after my death. The legacy of a child's helplessness is +the only bequest which I can leave to the only friend I have. + +"JOHN MARCHMONT. + +"27, OAKLEY STREET, LAMBETH, + +"_December_ 30_th_, 1838. + + * * * * * + +"EXTRACT FROM THE WILL OF PHILIP MARCHMONT, SENIOR, OF MARCHMONT +TOWERS. + +"'I give and devise all that my estate known as Marchmont Towers and +appurtenances thereto belonging to the use of my eldest son Philip +Marchmont during his natural life without impeachment of waste and from +and after his decease then to the use of my grandson Philip the first +son of my said son Philip during the term of his natural life without +impeachment of waste and after the decease of my said grandson Philip +to the use of the first and every other son of my said grandson +severally and successively according to their respective seniority in +tail and for default of such issue to the use of all and every the +daughters and daughter of my said grandson Philip as tenants in common +in tail with cross remainders between or amongst them in tail and if +all the daughters of my said grandson Philip except one shall die +without issue or if there shall be but one such daughter then to the +use of such one or only daughter in tail and in default of such issue +then to the use of the second and every other son of my said eldest son +severally and successively according to his respective seniority in +tail and in default of such issue to the use of all and every the +daughters and daughter of my said eldest son Philip as tenants in +common in tail with cross remainders between or amongst them in tail +and in default of such issue to the use of my second son Marmaduke and +his assigns during the term of his natural life without impeachment of +waste and after his decease to the use of the first and every son of my +said son Marmaduke severally and successively according to their +respective seniorities in tail and for default of such issue to the use +of all and every the daughters and daughter of my said son Marmaduke as +tenants in common in tail with cross remainders between or amongst them +in tail and if all the daughters of my said son Marmaduke except one +shall die without issue or if there shall be but one such daughter then +to the use of such one or only daughter in tail and in default of such +issue then to the use of my third son John during the term of his +natural life without impeachment of waste and from and after his +decease then to the use of my grandson John the first son of my said +son John during the term of his natural life without impeachment of +waste and after the decease of my said grandson John to the use of the +first and every other son of my said grandson John severally and +successively according to their respective seniority in tail and for +default of such issue to the use of all and every the daughters and +daughter of my said grandson John as tenants in common in tail with +cross remainders between or among them in tail and if all the daughters +of my said grandson John except one shall die without issue or if there +shall be but one such daughter' [_This, you will see, is my little +Mary_] 'then to the use of such one or only daughter in tail and in +default of such issue then to the use of the second and every other son +of my said third son John severally and successively according to his +respective seniority in tail and in default of such issue to the use of +all and every the daughters and daughter of my said third son John as +tenants in common in tail with cross remainders between or amongst them +in tail and in default of such issue to the use of my fourth son Paul +during the term of his natural life without impeachment of waste and +from and after his decease then to the use of my grandson Paul the son +of my said son Paul during his natural life without impeachment of +waste and after the decease of my said grandson Paul to the use of the +first and every other son of my said grandson severally and +successively according to their respective seniority in tail and for +default of such issue to the use of all and every the daughters and +daughter of my said grandson Paul as tenants in common in tail with +cross remainders between or amongst them in tail and if all the +daughters of my said grandson Paul except one shall die without issue +or if there shall be but one such daughter then to the use of such one +or only daughter in tail and in default of such issue then to the use +of the second and every other son of my said fourth son Paul severally +and successively according to his respective seniority in tail and in +default of such issue to the use of all and every the daughters and +daughter of my said fourth son Paul as tenants in common in tail with +cross remainders between or amongst them in tail,' &c. &c. + +"P.S.--Then comes what the lawyers call a general devise to trustees, +to preserve the contingent remainders before devised from being +destroyed; but what that means, perhaps you can get somebody to tell +you. I hope it may be some legal jargon to preserve my _very_ +contingent remainder." + + * * * * * + +The tone of Edward Arundel's answer to this letter was more +characteristic of the writer than in harmony with poor John's solemn +appeal. + +"You dear, foolish old Marchmont," the lad wrote, "of course I shall +take care of Miss Mary; and my mother shall adopt her, and she shall +live at Dangerfield, and be educated with my sister Letitia, who has +the jolliest French governess, and a German maid for conversation; and +don't let Paul Marchmont try on any of his games with me, that's all! +But what do you mean, you ridiculous old boy, by talking about dying, +and drowning, and shipwrecked mariners, and catching at straws, and all +that sort of humbug, when you know very well that you'll live to +inherit the Lincolnshire property, and that I'm coming to you every +year to shoot, and that you're going to build a tennis-court,--of +course there _is_ a billiard-room,--and that you're going to have a +stud of hunters, and be master of the hounds, and no end of bricks to + +"Your ever devoted Roman countryman and lover, + +"EDGARDO? + +"42, MONTAGUE SQUARE, + +"_December_ 3l_st_, 1838. + +"P.S.--By-the-bye, don't you think a situation in a lawyer's office +would suit you better than the T. R. D. L.? If you do, I think I could +manage it. A happy new year to Miss Mary!" + + * * * * * + +It was thus that Mr. Edward Arundel accepted the solemn trust which his +friend confided to him in all simplicity and good faith. Mary Marchmont +herself was not more innocent in the ways of the world outside Oakley +Street, the Waterloo Road, and the New Cut, than was the little girl's +father; nothing seemed more natural to him than to intrust the doubtful +future of his only child to the bright-faced handsome boy, whose early +boyhood had been unblemished by a mean sentiment or a dishonourable +action. John Marchmont had spent three years in the Berkshire Academy +at which Edward and his cousin, Martin Mostyn, had been educated; and +young Arundel, who was far behind his kinsman in the comprehension of a +problem in algebra, had been wise enough to recognise that paradox +which Martin Mostyn could not understand--a gentleman in a shabby coat. +It was thus that a friendship had arisen between the teacher of +mathematics and his handsome pupil; and it was thus that an unreasoning +belief in Edward Arundel had sprung up in John's simple mind. + +"If my little girl were certain of inheriting the fortune," Mr. +Marchmont thought, "I might find many who would be glad to accept my +trust, and to serve her well and faithfully. But the chance is such a +remote one. I cannot forget how the Jews laughed at me two years ago, +when I tried to borrow money upon my reversionary interest. No! I must +trust this brave-hearted boy, for I have no one else to confide in; and +who else is there who would not ridicule my fear of my cousin Paul?" + +Indeed, Mr. Marchmont had some reason to be considerably ashamed of his +antipathy to the young artist working for his bread, and for the bread +of his invalid mother and unmarried sister, in that bitter winter of +'38; working patiently and hopefully, in despite of all discouragement, +and content to live a joyless and monotonous life in a dingy lodging +near Fitzroy Square. I can find no excuse for John Marchmont's +prejudice against an industrious and indefatigable young man, who was +the sole support of two helpless women. Heaven knows, if to be adored +by two women is any evidence of a man's virtue, Paul must have been the +best of men; for Stephanie Marchmont, and her daughter Clarisse, +regarded the artist with a reverential idolatry that was not without a +tinge of romance. I can assign no reason, then, for John's dislike of +his cousin. They had been schoolfellows at a wretched suburban school, +where the children of poor people were boarded, lodged, and educated +all the year round for a pitiful stipend of something under twenty +pounds. One of the special points of the prospectus was the +announcement that there were no holidays; for the jovial Christmas +gatherings of merry faces, which are so delightful to the wealthy +citizens of Bloomsbury or Tyburnia, take another complexion in +poverty-stricken households, whose scantily-stocked larders can ill +support the raids of rawboned lads clamorous for provender. The two +boys had met at a school of this calibre, and had never met since. They +may not have been the best friends, perhaps, at the classical academy; +but their quarrels were by no means desperate. They may have rather +freely discussed their several chances of the Lincolnshire property; +but I have no romantic story to tell of a stirring scene in the humble +schoolroom--no exciting record of deadly insult and deep vows of +vengeance. No inkstand was ever flung by one boy into the face of the +other; no savage blow from a horsewhip ever cut a fatal scar across the +brow of either of the cousins. John Marchmont would have been almost as +puzzled to account for his objection to his kinsman, as was the +nameless gentleman who so naïvely confessed his dislike of Dr. Fell. I +fear that a great many of our likings and dislikings are too apt to be +upon the Dr. Fell principle. Mr. Wilkie Collins's Basil could not tell +_why_ he fell madly in love with the lady whom it was his evil fortune +to meet in an omnibus; nor why he entertained an uncomfortable feeling +about the gentleman who was to be her destroyer. David Copperfield +disliked Uriah Heep even before he had any substantial reason for +objecting to the evil genius of Agnes Wickfield's father. The boy +disliked the snake-like schemer of Canterbury because his eyes were +round and red, and his hands clammy and unpleasant to the touch. +Perhaps John Marchmont's reasons for his aversion to his cousin were +about as substantial as those of Master Copperfield. It may be that the +schoolboy disliked his comrade because Paul Marchmont's handsome grey +eyes were a little too near together; because his thin and delicately +chiselled lips were a thought too tightly compressed; because his +cheeks would fade to an awful corpse-like whiteness under circumstances +which would have brought the rushing life-blood, hot and red, into +another boy's face; because he was silent and suppressed when it would +have been more natural to be loud and clamorous; because he could smile +under provocations that would have made another frown; because, in +short, there was that about him which, let it be found where it will, +always gives birth to suspicion,--MYSTERY! + +So the cousins had parted, neither friends nor foes, to tread their +separate roads in the unknown country, which is apt to seem barren and +desolate enough to travellers who foot it in hobnailed boots +considerably the worse for wear; and as the iron hand of poverty held +John Marchmont even further back than Paul upon the hard road which +each had to tread, the quiet pride of the teacher of mathematics most +effectually kept him out of his kinsman's way. He had only heard enough +of Paul to know that he was living in London, and working hard for a +living; working as hard as John himself, perhaps; but at least able to +keep afloat in a higher social position than the law-stationer's hack +and the banner-holder of Drury Lane. + +But Edward Arundel did not forget his friends in Oakley Street. The boy +made a morning call upon his father's solicitors, Messrs. Paulette, +Paulette, and Mathewson, of Lincoln's Inn Fields, and was so extremely +eloquent in his needy friend's cause, as to provoke the good-natured +laughter of one of the junior partners, who declared that Mr. Edward +Arundel ought to wear a silk gown before he was thirty. The result of +this interview was, that before the first month of the new year was +out, John Marchmont had abandoned the classic banner and the demoniac +mask to a fortunate successor, and had taken possession of a +hard-seated, slim-legged stool in one of the offices of Messrs. +Paulette, Paulette, and Mathewson, as copying and out-door clerk, at a +salary of thirty shillings a week. + +So little Mary entered now upon a golden age, in which her evenings +were no longer desolate and lonely, but spent pleasantly with her +father in the study of such learning as was suited to her years, or +perhaps rather to her capacity, which was far beyond her years; and on +certain delicious nights, to be remembered ever afterwards, John +Marchmont took his little girl to the gallery of one or other of the +transpontine theatres; and I am sorry to say that my heroine--for she +is to be my heroine by-and-by--sucked oranges, ate Abernethy biscuits, +and cooled her delicate nose against the iron railing of the gallery, +after the manner of the masses when they enjoy the British Drama. + +But all this time John Marchmont was utterly ignorant of one rather +important fact in the history of those three lives which he was apt to +speak of as standing between him and Marchmont Towers. Young Arthur +Marchmont, the immediate heir of the estate, had been shot to death +upon the 1st of September, 1838, without blame to anyone or anything +but his own boyish carelessness, which had induced him to scramble +through a hedge with his fowling-piece, the costly present of a doating +father, loaded and on full-cock. This melancholy event, which had been +briefly recorded in all the newspapers, had never reached the knowledge +of poor John Marchmont, who had no friends to busy themselves about his +interests, or to rush eagerly to carry him any intelligence affecting +his prosperity. Nor had he read the obituary notice respecting +Marmaduke Marchmont, the bachelor, who had breathed his last stertorous +breath in a fit of apoplexy exactly one twelvemonth before the day upon +which Edward Arundel breakfasted in Oakley Street. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +GOING AWAY. + + +Edward Arundel went from Montague Square straight into the household of +the private tutor of whom he had spoken, there to complete his +education, and to be prepared for the onerous duties of a military +life. From the household of this private tutor he went at once into a +cavalry regiment; after sundry examinations, which were not nearly so +stringent in the year one thousand eight hundred and forty, as they +have since become. Indeed, I think the unfortunate young cadets who are +educated upon the high-pressure system, and who are expected to give a +synopsis of Portuguese political intrigue during the eighteenth +century, a scientific account of the currents of the Red Sea, and a +critical disquisition upon the comedies of Aristophanes as compared +with those of Pedro Calderon de la Barca, not forgetting to glance at +the effect of different ages and nationalities upon the respective +minds of the two playwrights, within a given period of, say +half-an-hour,--would have envied Mr. Arundel for the easy manner in +which he obtained his commission in a distinguished cavalry regiment. +Mr. Edward Arundel therefore inaugurated the commencement of the year +1840 by plunging very deeply into the books of a crack military-tailor +in New Burlington Street, and by a visit to Dangerfield Park; where he +went to make his adieux before sailing for India, whither his regiment +had just been ordered. + +I do not doubt that Mrs Arundel was very sorrowful at this sudden +parting with her yellow-haired younger son. The boy and his mother +walked together in the wintry sunset under the leafless beeches at +Dangerfield, and talked of the dreary voyage that lay before the lad; +the arid plains and cruel jungles far away; perils by sea and perils by +land; but across them all, Fame waving her white beckoning arms to the +young soldier, and crying, "Come, conqueror that shall be! come, +through trial and danger, through fever and famine,--come to your rest +upon my bloodstained lap!" Surely this boy, being only just eighteen +years of age, may be forgiven if he is a little romantic, a little over +eager and impressionable, a little too confident that the next thing to +going out to India as a sea-sick subaltern in a great transport-ship is +coming home with the reputation of a Clive. Perhaps he may be forgiven, +too, if, in his fresh enthusiasm, he sometimes forgot the shabby friend +whom he had helped little better than a twelvemonth before, and the +earnest hazel eyes that had shone upon him in the pitiful Oakley Street +chamber. I do not say that he was utterly unmindful of his old teacher +of mathematics. It was not in his nature to forget anyone who had need +of his services; for this boy, so eager to be a soldier, was of the +chivalrous temperament, and would have gone out to die for his +mistress, or his friend, if need had been. He had received two or three +grateful letters from John Marchmont; and in these letters the lawyer's +clerk had spoken pleasantly of his new life, and hopefully of his +health, which had improved considerably, he said, since his resignation +of the tragic banner and the pantomimic mask. Neither had Edward quite +forgotten his promise of enlisting Mrs. Arundel's sympathies in aid of +the motherless little girl. In one of these wintry walks beneath the +black branches at Dangerfield, the lad had told the sorrowful story of +his well-born tutor's poverty and humiliation. + +"Only think, mother!" he cried at the end of the little history. "I saw +the poor fellow carrying a great calico flag, and marching about at the +heel of a procession, to be laughed at by the costermongers in the +gallery; and I know that he belongs to a capital Lincolnshire family, +and will come in for no end of money if he only lives long enough. But +if he should die, mother, and leave his little girl destitute, you'll +look after her, won't you?" + +I don't know whether Mrs. Arundel quite entered into her son's ideas +upon the subject of adopting Mary Marchmont, or whether she had any +definite notion of bringing the little girl home to Dangerfield for the +natural term of her life, in the event of the child being left an +orphan. But she was a kind and charitable lady, and she scarcely cared +to damp her boy's spirits by holding forth upon the doubtful wisdom of +his adopting, or promising to adopt, any stray orphans who might cross +his pathway. + +"I hope the little girl may not lose her father, Edward," she said +gently. "Besides, dear, you say that Mr. Marchmont tells you he has +humble friends, who would take the child if anything happened to him. +He does not wish us to adopt the little girl; he only asks us to +interest ourselves in her fate." + +"And you will do that, mother darling?" cried the boy. "You will take +an interest in her, won't you? You couldn't help doing so, if you were +to see her. She's not like a child, you know,--not a bit like Letitia. +She's as grave and quiet as you are, mother,--or graver, I think; and +she looks like a lady, in spite of her poor, shabby pinafore and +frock." + +"Does she wear shabby frocks?" said the mother. "I could help her in +that matter, at all events, Ned. I might send her a great trunk-full of +Letitia's things: she outgrows them before they have been worn long +enough to be shabby." + +The boy coloured, and shook his head. + +"It's very kind of you to think of it, mother dear; but I don't think +that would quite answer," he said. + +"Why not?" + +"Because, you see, John Marchmont is a gentleman; and, you know, though +he's so dreadfully poor now, he _is_ heir to Marchmont Towers. And +though he didn't mind doing any thing in the world to earn a few +shillings a week, he mightn't like to take cast-off clothes." + +So nothing more was to be said or done upon the subject. + +Edward Arundel wrote his humble friend a pleasant letter, in which he +told John that he had enlisted his mother's sympathy in Mary's cause, +and in which he spoke in very glowing terms of the Indian expedition +that lay before him. + +"I wish I could come to say good-bye to you and Miss Mary before I go," +he wrote; "but that's impossible. I go straight from here to +Southampton by coach at the end of this month, and the _Auckland_ sails +on the 2nd of February. Tell Miss Mary I shall bring her home all kinds +of pretty presents from Affghanistan,--ivory fans, and Cashmere shawls, +and Chinese puzzles, and embroidered slippers with turned-up toes, and +diamonds, and attar-of-roses, and suchlike; and remember that I expect +you to write to me, and to give me the earliest news of your coming +into the Lincolnshire property." + +John Marchmont received this letter in the middle of January. He gave a +despondent sigh as he refolded the boyish epistle, after reading it to +his little girl. + +"We haven't so many friends, Polly," he said, "that we should be +indifferent to the loss of this one." + +Mary Marchmont's cheek grew paler at her father's sorrowful speech. +That imaginative temperament, which was, as I have said, almost morbid +in its intensity, presented every object to the little girl in a light +in which things are looked at by very few children. Only these few +words, and her fancy roamed far away to that cruel land whose perils +her father had described to her. Only these few words, and she was away +in the rocky Bolan Pass, under hurricanes of drifting snow; she saw the +hungry soldiers fighting with savage dogs for the possession of foul +carrion. She had heard all the perils and difficulties which had +befallen the Army of the Indus in the year '39, and the womanly heart +ached with the pain of those cruel memories. + +"He will go to India and be killed, papa dear," she said. "Oh! why, why +do they let him go? His mother can't love him, can she? She would never +let him go, if she did." + +John Marchmont was obliged to explain to his daughter that motherly +love must not go so far as to deprive a nation of its defenders; and +that the richest jewels which Cornelia can give to her country are +those ruby life-drops which flow from the hearts of her bravest and +brightest sons. Mary was no political economist; she could not reason +upon the necessity of chastising Persian insolence, or checking Russian +encroachments upon the far-away shores of the Indus. Was Edward +Arundel's bright head, with its aureola of yellow hair, to be cloven +asunder by an Affghan renegade's sabre, because the young Shah of +Persia had been contumacious? + +Mary Marchmont wept silently that day over a three-volume novel, while +her father was away serving writs upon wretched insolvents, in his +capacity of out-door clerk to Messrs. Paulette, Paulette, and +Mathewson. + +The young lady no longer spent her quiet days in the two-pair back. Mr. +Marchmont and his daughter had remained faithful to Oakley Street and +the proprietress of the ladies' wardrobe, who was a good, motherly +creature; but they had descended to the grandeur of the first floor, +whose gorgeous decorations Mary had glanced at furtively in the days +gone by, when the splendid chambers were occupied by an elderly and +reprobate commission-agent, who seemed utterly indifferent to the +delights of a convex mirror, surmounted by a maimed eagle, whose +dignity was somewhat impaired by the loss of a wing; but which bijou +appeared, to Mary, to be a fitting adornment for the young Queen's +palace in St. James's Park. + +But neither the eagle nor the third volume of a thrilling romance could +comfort Mary upon this bleak January day. She shut her book, and stood +by the window, looking out into the dreary street, that seemed so +blotted and dim under the falling snow. + +"It snowed in the Pass of Bolan," she thought; "and the treacherous +Indians harassed the brave soldiers, and killed their camels. What will +become of him in that dreadful country? Shall we ever see him again?" + +Yes, Mary, to your sorrow! Indian scimitars will let him go scatheless; +famine and fever will pass him by; but the hand which points to that +far-away day on which you and he are to meet, will never fail or falter +in its purpose until the hour of your meeting comes. + + * * * * * + +We have no need to dwell upon the preparations which were made for the +young soldier's departure from home, nor on the tender farewells +between the mother and her son. + +Mr. Arundel was a country gentleman _pur et simple_; a hearty, +broad-shouldered squire, who had no thought above his farm and his +dog-kennel, or the hunting of the red deer with which his neighbourhood +abounded. He sent his younger son to India as coolly as he had sent the +elder to Oxford. The boy had little to inherit, and must be provided +for in a gentlemanly manner. Other younger sons of the House of Arundel +had fought and conquered in the Honourable East India Company's +service; and was Edward any better than they, that there should be +sentimental whining because the lad was going away to fight his way to +fortune, if he could? Mr. Arundel went even further than this, and +declared that Master Edward was a lucky dog to be going out at such a +time, when there was plenty of fighting, and a very fair chance of +speedy promotion for a good soldier. + +He gave the young cadet his blessing, reminded him of the limit of such +supplies as he was to expect from home, bade him keep clear of the +brandy-bottle and the dice-box; and having done this, believed that he +had performed his duty as an Englishman and a father. + +If Mrs. Arundel wept, she wept in secret, loth to discourage her son by +the sight of those natural, womanly tears. If Miss Letitia Arundel was +sorry to lose her brother, she mourned with most praiseworthy +discretion, and did not forget to remind the young traveller that she +expected to receive a muslin frock, embroidered with beetle-wings, by +an early mail. And as Algernon Fairfax Dangerfield Arundel, the heir, +was away at college, there was no one else to mourn. So Edward left the +home of his forefathers by a branch-coach, which started from the +"Arundel Arms" in time to meet the "Telegraph" at Exeter; and no noisy +lamentations shook the sky above Dangerfield Park--no mourning voices +echoed through the spacious rooms. The old servants were sorry to lose +the younger-born, whose easy, genial temperament had made him an +especial favourite; but there was a certain admixture of joviality with +their sorrow, as there generally is with all mourning in the basement; +and the strong ale, the famous Dangerfield October, went faster upon +that 31st of January than on any day since Christmas. + +I doubt if any one at Dangerfield Park sorrowed as bitterly for the +departure of the boyish soldier as a romantic young lady, of nine years +old, in Oakley Street, Lambeth; whose one sentimental +day-dream--half-childish, half-womanly--owned Edward Arundel as its +centre figure. + +So the curtain falls on the picture of a brave ship sailing eastward, +her white canvas strained against the cold grey February sky, and a +little girl weeping over the tattered pages of a stupid novel in a +shabby London lodging. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MARCHMONT TOWERS. + + +There is a lapse of three years and a half between the acts; and the +curtain rises to reveal a widely-different picture:--the picture of a +noble mansion in the flat Lincolnshire country; a stately pile of +building, standing proudly forth against a background of black +woodland; a noble building, supported upon either side by an octagon +tower, whose solid masonry is half-hidden by the ivy which clings about +the stonework, trailing here and there, and flapping restlessly with +every breath of wind against the narrow casements. + +A broad stone terrace stretches the entire length of the grim façade, +from tower to tower; and three flights of steps lead from the terrace +to the broad lawn, which loses itself in a vast grassy flat, only +broken by a few clumps of trees and a dismal pool of black water, but +called by courtesy a park. Grim stone griffins surmount the +terrace-steps, and griffins' heads and other architectural +monstrosities, worn and moss-grown, keep watch and ward over every door +and window, every archway and abutment--frowning threat and defiance +upon the daring visitor who approaches the great house by this, the +formidable chief entrance. + +The mansion looks westward: but there is another approach, a low +archway on the southern side, which leads into a quadrangle, where +there is a quaint little door under a stone portico, ivy-covered like +the rest; a comfortable little door of massive oak, studded with knobs +of rusty iron,--a door generally affected by visitors familiar with the +house. + +This is Marchmont Towers,--a grand and stately mansion, which had been +a monastery in the days when England and the Pope were friends and +allies; and which had been bestowed upon Hugh Marchmont, gentleman, by +his Sovereign Lord and Most Christian Majesty the King Henry VIII, of +blessed memory, and by that gentleman-commoner extended and improved at +considerable outlay. This is Marchmont Towers,--a splendid and a +princely habitation truly, but perhaps scarcely the kind of dwelling +one would choose for the holy resting-place we call home. The great +mansion is a little too dismal in its lonely grandeur: it lacks shelter +when the dreary winds come sweeping across the grassy flats in the +bleak winter weather; it lacks shade when the western sun blazes on +every window-pane in the stifling summer evening. It is at all times +rather too stony in its aspect; and is apt to remind one almost +painfully of every weird and sorrowful story treasured in the +storehouse of memory. Ancient tales of enchantment, dark German +legends, wild Scottish fancies, grim fragments of half-forgotten +demonology, strange stories of murder, violence, mystery, and wrong, +vaguely intermingle in the stranger's mind as he looks, for the first +time, at Marchmont Towers. + +But of course these feelings wear off in time. So invincible is the +power of custom, that we might make ourselves comfortable in the Castle +of Otranto, after a reasonable sojourn within its mysterious walls: +familiarity would breed contempt for the giant helmet, and all the +other grim apparitions of the haunted dwelling. The commonplace and +ignoble wants of every-day life must surely bring disenchantment with +them. The ghost and the butcher's boy cannot well exist +contemporaneously; and the avenging shade can scarcely continue to lurk +beneath the portal which is visited by the matutinal milkman. Indeed, +this is doubtless the reason that the most restless and impatient +spirit, bent on early vengeance and immediate retribution, will yet +wait until the shades of night have fallen before he reveals himself, +rather than run the risk of an ignominious encounter with the postman +or the parlour-maid. Be it how it might, the phantoms of Marchmont +Towers were not intrusive. They may have perambulated the long +tapestried corridors, the tenantless chambers, the broad black +staircase of shining oak; but, happily, no dweller in the mansion was +ever scared by the sight of their pale faces. All the dead-and-gone +beauties, and soldiers, and lawyers, and parsons, and simple +country-squires of the Marchmont race may have descended from their +picture-frames to hold a witches' sabbath in the old mansion; but as +the Lincolnshire servants were hearty eaters and heavy sleepers, the +ghosts had it all to themselves. I believe there was one dismal story +attached to the house,--the story of a Marchmont of the time of Charles +I, who had murdered his coachman in a fit of insensate rage; and it was +even asserted, upon the authority of an old housekeeper, that John +Marchmont's grandmother, when a young woman and lately come as a bride +to the Towers, had beheld the murdered coachman stalk into her chamber, +ghastly and blood-bedabbled, in the dim summer twilight. But as this +story was not particularly romantic, and possessed none of the elements +likely to insure popularity,--such as love, jealousy, revenge, mystery, +youth, and beauty,--it had never been very widely disseminated. + +I should think that the new owner of Marchmont Towers--new within the +last six months--was about the last person in Christendom to be +hypercritical, or to raise fanciful objections to his dwelling; for +inasmuch as he had come straight from a wretched transpontine lodging +to this splendid Lincolnshire mansion, and had at the same time +exchanged a stipend of thirty shillings a week for an income of eleven +thousand a year (derivable from lands that spread far away, over fenny +flats and low-lying farms, to the solitary seashore), he had ample +reason to be grateful to Providence, and well pleased with his new +abode. + +Yes; Philip Marchmont, the childless widower, had died six months +before, at the close of the year '43, of a broken heart,--his old +servants said, broken by the loss of his only and idolised son; after +which loss he had never been known to smile. He was one of those +undemonstrative men who can take a great sorrow quietly, and only--die +of it. Philip Marchmont lay in a velvet-covered coffin, above his +son's, in the stone recess set apart for them in the Marchmont vault +beneath Kemberling Church, three miles from the Towers; and John +reigned in his stead. John Marchmont, the supernumerary, the +banner-holder of Drury Lane, the patient, conscientious copying and +outdoor clerk of Lincoln's Inn, was now sole owner of the Lincolnshire +estate, sole master of a household of well-trained old servants, sole +proprietor of a very decent country-gentleman's stud, and of chariots, +barouches, chaises, phaetons, and other vehicles--a little shabby and +out of date it may be, but very comfortable to a man for whom an +omnibus ride had long been a treat and a rarity. Nothing had been +touched or disturbed since Philip Marchmont's death. The rooms he had +used were still the occupied apartments; the chambers he had chosen to +shut up were still kept with locked doors; the servants who had served +him waited upon his successor, whom they declared to be a quiet, easy +gentleman, far too wise to interfere with old servants, every one of +whom knew the ways of the house a great deal better than he did, though +he was the master of it. + +There was, therefore, no shadow of change in the stately mansion. The +dinner-bell still rang at the same hour; the same tradespeople left the +same species of wares at the low oaken door; the old housekeeper, +arranging her simple _menu_, planned her narrow round of soups and +roasts, sweets and made-dishes, exactly as she had been wont to do, and +had no new tastes to consult. A grey-haired bachelor, who had been +own-man to Philip, was now own-man to John. The carriage which had +conveyed the late lord every Sunday to morning and afternoon service at +Kemberling conveyed the new lord, who sat in the same seat that his +predecessor had occupied in the great family-pew, and read his prayers +out of the same book,--a noble crimson, morocco-covered volume, in +which George, our most gracious King and Governor, and all manner of +dead-and-gone princes and princesses were prayed for. + +The presence of Mary Marchmont made the only change in the old house; +and even that change was a very trifling one. Mary and her father were +as closely united at Marchmont Towers as they had been in Oakley +Street. The little girl clung to her father as tenderly as ever--more +tenderly than ever perhaps; for she knew something of that which the +physicians had said, and she knew that John Marchmont's lease of life +was not a long one. Perhaps it would be better to say that he had no +lease at all. His soul was a tenant on sufferance in its frail earthly +habitation, receiving a respite now and again, when the flicker of the +lamp was very low--every chance breath of wind threatening to +extinguish it for ever. It was only those who knew John Marchmont very +intimately who were fully acquainted with the extent of his danger. He +no longer bore any of those fatal outward signs of consumption, which +fatigue and deprivation had once made painfully conspicuous. The hectic +flush and the unnatural brightness of the eyes had subsided; indeed, +John seemed much stronger and heartier than of old; and it is only +great medical practitioners who can tell to a nicety what is going on +_inside_ a man, when he presents a very fair exterior to the +unprofessional eye. But John was decidedly better than he had been. He +might live three years, five, seven, possibly even ten years; but he +must live the life of a man who holds himself perpetually upon his +defence against death; and he must recognise in every bleak current of +wind, in every chilling damp, or perilous heat, or over-exertion, or +ill-chosen morsel of food, or hasty emotion, or sudden passion, an +insidious ally of his dismal enemy. + +Mary Marchmont knew all this,--or divined it, perhaps, rather than knew +it, with the child-woman's subtle power of divination, which is even +stronger than the actual woman's; for her father had done his best to +keep all sorrowful knowledge from her. She knew that he was in danger; +and she loved him all the more dearly, as the one precious thing which +was in constant peril of being snatched away. The child's love for her +father has not grown any less morbid in its intensity since Edward +Arundel's departure for India; nor has Mary become more childlike since +her coming to Marchmont Towers, and her abandonment of all those sordid +cares, those pitiful every-day duties, which had made her womanly. + +It may be that the last lingering glamour of childhood had for ever +faded away with the realisation of the day-dream which she had carried +about with her so often in the dingy transpontine thoroughfares around +Oakley Street. Marchmont Towers, that fairy palace, whose lighted +windows had shone upon her far away across a cruel forest of poverty +and trouble, like the enchanted castle which appears to the lost +wanderer of the child's story, was now the home of the father she +loved. The grim enchanter Death, the only magician of our modern +histories, had waved his skeleton hand, more powerful than the +star-gemmed wand of any fairy godmother, and the obstacles which had +stood between John Marchmont and his inheritance had one by one been +swept away. + +But was Marchmont Towers quite as beautiful as that fairy palace of +Mary's day-dream? No, not quite--not quite. The rooms were +handsome,--handsomer and larger, even, than the rooms she had dreamed +of; but perhaps none the better for that. They were grand and gloomy +and magnificent; but they were not the sunlit chambers which her fancy +had built up, and decorated with such shreds and patches of splendour +as her narrow experience enabled her to devise. Perhaps it was rather a +disappointment to Miss Marchmont to discover that the mansion was +completely furnished, and that there was no room in it for any of those +splendours which she had so often contemplated in the New Cut. The +parrot at the greengrocer's was a vulgar bird, and not by any means +admissible in Lincolnshire. The carrying away and providing for Mary's +favourite tradespeople was not practicable; and John Marchmont had +demurred to her proposal of adopting the butcher's daughter. + +There is always something to be given up even when our brightest +visions are realised; there is always some one figure (a low one +perhaps) missing in the fullest sum of earthly happiness. I dare say if +Alnaschar had married the Vizier's daughter, he would have found her a +shrew, and would have looked back yearningly to the humble days in +which he had been an itinerant vendor of crockery-ware. + +If, therefore, Mary Marchmont found her sunlit fancies not quite +realised by the great stony mansion that frowned upon the fenny +countryside, the wide grassy flat, the black pool, with its dismal +shelter of weird pollard-willows, whose ugly reflections, distorted on +the bosom of the quiet water, looked like the shadows of hump-backed +men;--if these things did not compose as beautiful a picture as that +which the little girl had carried so long in her mind, she had no more +reason to be sorry than the rest of us, and had been no more foolish +than other dreamers. I think she had built her airy castle too much +after the model of a last scene in a pantomime, and that she expected +to find spangled waters twinkling in perpetual sunshine, revolving +fountains, ever-expanding sunflowers, and gilded clouds of +rose-coloured gauze,--every thing except the fairies, in short,--at +Marchmont Towers. Well, the dream was over: and she was quite a woman +now, and very grateful to Providence when she remembered that her +father had no longer need to toil for his daily bread, and that he was +luxuriously lodged, and could have the first physicians in the land at +his beck and call. + +"Oh, papa, it is so nice to be rich!" the young lady would exclaim now +and then, in a fleeting transport of enthusiasm. "How good we ought to +be to the poor people, when we remember how poor we once were!" + +And the little girl did not forget to be good to the poor about +Kemberling and Marchmont Towers. There were plenty of poor, of +course--free-and-easy pensioners, who came to the Towers for brandy, +and wine, and milk, and woollen stuffs, and grocery, precisely as they +would have gone to a shop, except that there was to be no bill. The +housekeeper doled out her bounties with many short homilies upon the +depravity and ingratitude of the recipients, and gave tracts of an +awful and denunciatory nature to the pitiful petitioners--tracts +interrogatory, and tracts fiercely imperative; tracts that asked, +"Where are you going?" "Why are you wicked?" "What will become of you?" +and other tracts which cried, "Stop, and think!" "Pause, while there is +time!" "Sinner, consider!" "Evil-doer, beware!" Perhaps it may not be +the wisest possible plan to begin the work of reformation by +frightening, threatening, and otherwise disheartening the wretched +sinner to be reformed. There is a certain sermon in the New Testament, +containing sacred and comforting words which were spoken upon a +mountain near at hand to Jerusalem, and spoken to an auditory amongst +which there must have been many sinful creatures; but there is more of +blessing than cursing in that sublime discourse, and it might be rather +a tender father pleading gently with his wayward children than an +offended Deity dealing out denunciation upon a stubborn and refractory +race. But the authors of the tracts may have never read this sermon, +perhaps; and they may take their ideas of composition from that +comforting service which we read on Ash-Wednesday, cowering in fear and +trembling in our pews, and calling down curses upon ourselves and our +neighbours. Be it as it might, the tracts were not popular amongst the +pensioners of Marchmont Towers. They infinitely preferred to hear Mary +read a chapter in the New Testament, or some pretty patriarchal story +of primitive obedience and faith. The little girl would discourse upon +the Scripture histories in her simple, old-fashioned manner; and many a +stout Lincolnshire farm-labourer was content to sit over his hearth, +with a pipe of shag-tobacco and a mug of fettled beer, while Miss +Marchmont read and expounded the history of Abraham and Isaac, or +Joseph and his brethren. + +"It's joost loike a story-book to hear her," the man would say to his +wife; "and yet she brings it all hoame, too, loike. If she reads about +Abraham, she'll say, maybe, 'That's joost how you gave your only son to +be a soldier, you know, Muster Moggins;'--she allus says Muster +Moggins;--'you gave un into God's hands, and you troosted God would +take care of un; and whatever cam' to un would be the best, even if it +was death.' That's what she'll say, bless her little heart! so gentle +and tender loike. The wust o' chaps couldn't but listen to her." + +Mary Marchmont's morbidly sensitive nature adapted her to all +charitable offices. No chance word in her simple talk ever inflicted a +wound upon the listener. She had a subtle and intuitive comprehension +of other people's feelings, derived from the extreme susceptibility of +her own. She had never been vulgarised by the associations of poverty; +for her self-contained nature took no colour from the things that +surrounded her, and she was only at Marchmont Towers that which she had +been from the age of six--a little lady, grave and gentle, dignified, +discreet, and wise. + +There was one bright figure missing out of the picture which Mary had +been wont of late years to make of the Lincolnshire mansion, and that +was the figure of the yellow-haired boy who had breakfasted upon +haddocks and hot rolls in Oakley Street. She had imagined Edward +Arundel an inhabitant of that fair Utopia. He would live with them; or, +if he could not live with them, he would be with them as a +visitor,--often--almost always. He would leave off being a soldier, for +of course her papa could give him more money than he could get by being +a soldier--(you see that Mary's experience of poverty had taught her to +take a mercantile and sordid view of military life)--and he would come +to Marchmont Towers, and ride, and drive, and play tennis (what was +tennis? she wondered), and read three-volume novels all day long. But +that part of the dream was at least broken. Marchmont Towers was Mary's +home, but the young soldier was far away; in the Pass of Bolan, +perhaps,--Mary had a picture of that cruel rocky pass almost always in +her mind,--or cutting his way through a black jungle, with the yellow +eyes of hungry tigers glaring out at him through the rank tropical +foliage; or dying of thirst and fever under a scorching sun, with no +better pillow than the neck of a dead camel, with no more tender +watcher than the impatient vulture flapping her wings above his head, +and waiting till he, too, should be carrion. What was the good of +wealth, if it could not bring this young soldier home to a safe shelter +in his native land? John Marchmont smiled when his daughter asked this +question, and implored her father to write to Edward Arundel, recalling +him to England. + +"God knows how glad I should be to have the boy here, Polly!" John +said, as he drew his little girl closer to his breast,--she sat on his +knee still, though she was thirteen years of age. "But Edward has a +career before him, my dear, and could not give it up for an inglorious +life in this rambling old house. It isn't as if I could hold out any +inducement to him: you know, Polly, I can't; for I mustn't leave any +money away from my little girl." + +"But he might have half my money, papa, or all of it," Mary added +piteously. "What could I do with money, if----?" + +She didn't finish the sentence; she never could complete any such +sentence as this; but her father knew what she meant. + +So six months had passed since a dreary January day upon which John +Marchmont had read, in the second column of the "Times," that he could +hear of something greatly to his advantage by applying to a certain +solicitor, whose offices were next door but one to those of Messrs. +Paulette, Paulette, and Mathewson's. His heart began to beat very +violently when he read that advertisement in the supplement, which it +was one of his duties to air before the fire in the clerks' office; but +he showed no other sign of emotion. He waited until he took the papers +to his employer; and as he laid them at Mr. Mathewson's elbow, murmured +a respectful request to be allowed to go out for half-an-hour, upon his +own business. + +"Good gracious me, Marchmont!" cried the lawyer; "what can you want to +go out for at this time in the morning? You've only just come; and +there's that agreement between Higgs and Sandyman must be copied +before----" + +"Yes, I know, sir. I'll be back in time to attend to it; but I--I think +I've come into a fortune, sir; and I should like to go and see about +it." + +The solicitor turned in his revolving library-chair, and looked aghast +at his clerk. Had this Marchmont--always rather unnaturally reserved +and eccentric--gone suddenly mad? No; the copying-clerk stood by his +employer's side, grave, self-possessed as ever, with his forefinger +upon the advertisement. + +"Marchmont--John--call--Messrs. Tindal and Trollam--" gasped Mr. +Mathewson. "Do you mean to tell me it's _you_?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Egad, I'll go with you!" cried the solicitor, hooking his arm through +that of his clerk, snatching his hat from an adjacent stand, and +dashing through the outer office, down the great staircase, and into +the next door but one before John Marchmont knew where he was. + +John had not deceived his employer. Marchmont Towers was his, with all +its appurtenances. Messrs. Paulette, Paulette, and Mathewson took him +in hand, much to the chagrin of Messrs. Tindal and Trollam, and proved +his identity in less than a week. On a shelf above the high wooden desk +at which John had sat, copying law-papers, with a weary hand and an +aching spine, appeared two bran-new deed-boxes, inscribed, in white +letters, with the name and address of JOHN MARCHMONT, ESQ., MARCHMONT +TOWERS. The copying-clerk's sudden accession to fortune was the talk of +all the _employés_ in "The Fields." Marchmont Towers was exaggerated +into half Lincolnshire, and a tidy slice of Yorkshire; eleven thousand +a year was expanded into an annual million. Everybody expected largesse +from the legatee. How fond people had been of the quiet clerk, and how +magnanimously they had concealed their sentiments during his poverty, +lest they should wound him, as they urged, "which" they knew he was +sensitive; and how expansively they now dilated on their +long-suppressed emotions! Of course, under these circumstances, it is +hardly likely that everybody could be satisfied; so it is a small thing +to say that the dinner which John gave--by his late employers' +suggestion (he was about the last man to think of giving a dinner)--at +the "Albion Tavern," to the legal staff of Messrs. Paulette, Paulette, +and Mathewson, and such acquaintance of the legal profession as they +should choose to invite, was a failure; and that gentlemen who were +pretty well used to dine upon liver and bacon, or beefsteak and onions, +or the joint, vegetables, bread, cheese, and celery for a shilling, +turned up their noses at the turbot, murmured at the paucity of green +fat in the soup, made light of red mullet and ortolans, objected to the +flavour of the truffles, and were contemptuous about the wines. + +John knew nothing of this. He had lived a separate and secluded +existence; and his only thought now was of getting away to Marchmont +Towers, which had been familiar to him in his boyhood, when he had been +wont to go there on occasional visits to his grandfather. He wanted to +get away from the turmoil and confusion of the big, heartless city, in +which he had endured so much; he wanted to carry away his little girl +to a quiet country home, and live and die there in peace. He liberally +rewarded all the good people about Oakley Street who had been kind to +little Mary; and there was weeping in the regions of the Ladies' +Wardrobe when Mr. Marchmont and his daughter went away one bitter +winter's morning in a cab, which was to carry them to the hostelry +whence the coach started for Lincoln. + +It is strange to think how far those Oakley-street days of privation +and endurance seem to have receded in the memories of both father and +daughter. The impalpable past fades away, and it is difficult for John +and his little girl to believe that they were once so poor and +desolate. It is Oakley Street now that is visionary and unreal. The +stately county families bear down upon Marchmont Towers in great +lumbering chariots, with brazen crests upon the hammer-cloths, and +sulky coachmen in Brown-George wigs. The county mammas patronise and +caress Miss Marchmont--what a match she will be for one of the county +sons by-and-by!--the county daughters discourse with Mary about her +poor, and her fancy-work, and her piano. She is getting on slowly +enough with her piano, poor little girl! under the tuition of the +organist of Swampington, who gives lessons to that part of the county. +And there are solemn dinners now and then at Marchmont Towers--dinners +at which Miss Mary appears when the cloth has been removed, and +reflects in silent wonder upon the change that has come to her father +and herself. Can it be true that she has ever lived in Oakley Street, +whither came no more aristocratic visitors than her Aunt Sophia, who +was the wife of a Berkshire farmer, and always brought hogs' puddings, +and butter, and home-made bread, and other rustic delicacies to her +brother-in-law; or Mrs. Brigsome, the washer-woman, who made a +morning-call every Monday, to fetch John Marchmont's shabby shirts? The +shirts were not shabby now; and it was no longer Mary's duty to watch +them day by day, and manipulate them tenderly when the linen grew +frayed at the sharp edges of the folds, or the buttonholes gave signs +of weakness. Corson, Mr. Marchmont's own-man, had care of the shirts +now: and John wore diamond-studs and a black-satin waistcoat, when he +gave a dinner-party. They were not very lively, those Lincolnshire +dinner-parties; though the dessert was a sight to look upon, in Mary's +eyes. The long shining table, the red and gold and purple Indian china, +the fluffy woollen d'oyleys, the sparkling cut-glass, the sticky +preserved ginger and guava-jelly, and dried orange rings and chips, and +all the stereotyped sweetmeats, were very grand and beautiful, no +doubt; but Mary had seen livelier desserts in Oakley Street, though +there had been nothing better than a brown-paper bag of oranges from +the Westminster Road, and a bottle of two-and-twopenny Marsala from a +licensed victualler's in the Borough, to promote conviviality. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE YOUNG SOLDIER'S RETURN. + + +The rain beats down upon the battlemented roof of Marchmont Towers this +July day, as if it had a mind to flood the old mansion. The flat waste +of grass, and the lonely clumps of trees, are almost blotted out by the +falling rain. The low grey sky shuts out the distance. This part of +Lincolnshire--fenny, misty, and flat always--seems flatter and mistier +than usual to-day. The rain beats hopelessly upon the leaves in the +wood behind Marchmont Towers, and splashes into great pools beneath the +trees, until the ground is almost hidden by the fallen water, and the +trees seem to be growing out of a black lake. The land is lower behind +Marchmont Towers, and slopes down gradually to the bank of a dismal +river, which straggles through the Marchmont property at a snail's +pace, to gain an impetus farther on, until it hurries into the sea +somewhere northward of Grimsby. The wood is not held in any great +favour by the household at the Towers; and it has been a pet project of +several Marchmonts to level and drain it, but a project not very easily +to be carried out. Marchmont Towers is said to be unhealthy, as a +dwelling-house, by reason of this wood, from which miasmas rise in +certain states of the weather; and it is on this account that the back +of the house--the eastern front, at least, as it is called--looking to +the wood is very little used. + +Mary Marchmont sits at a window in the western drawing-room, watching +the ceaseless falling of the rain upon this dreary summer afternoon. +She is little changed since the day upon which Edward Arundel saw her +in Oakley Street. She is taller, of course, but her figure is as +slender and childish as ever: it is only her face in which the +earnestness of premature womanhood reveals itself in a grave and sweet +serenity very beautiful to contemplate. Her soft brown eyes have a +pensive shadow in their gentle light; her mouth is even more pensive. +It has been said of Jane Grey, of Mary Stuart, of Marie Antoinette, +Charlotte Corday, and other fated women, that in the gayest hours of +their youth they bore upon some feature, or in some expression, the +shadow of the End--an impalpable, indescribable presage of an awful +future, vaguely felt by those who looked upon them. + +Is it thus with Mary Marchmont? Has the solemn hand of Destiny set that +shadowy brand upon the face of this child, that even in her prosperity, +as in her adversity, she should be so utterly different from all other +children? Is she already marked out for some womanly martyrdom--already +set apart for more than common suffering? + +She sits alone this afternoon, for her father is busy with his agent. +Wealth does not mean immunity from all care and trouble; and Mr. +Marchmont has plenty of work to get through, in conjunction with his +land-steward, a hard-headed Yorkshireman, who lives at Kemberling, and +insists on doing his duty with pertinacious honesty. + +The large brown eyes looked wistfully out at the dismal waste and the +falling rain. There was a wretched equestrian making his way along the +carriage-drive. + +"Who can come to see us on such a day?" Mary thought. "It must be Mr. +Gormby, I suppose;"--the agent's name was Gormby. "Mr. Gormby never +cares about the wet; but then I thought he was with papa. Oh, I hope it +isn't anybody coming to call." + +But Mary forgot all about the struggling equestrian the next moment. +She had some morsel of fancy-work upon her lap, and picked it up and +went on with it, setting slow stitches, and letting her thoughts wander +far away from Marchmont Towers--to India, I am afraid; or to that +imaginary India which she had created for herself out of such images as +were to be picked up in the "Arabian Nights." She was roused suddenly +by the opening of a door at the farther end of the room, and by the +voice of a servant, who mumbled a name which sounded something like Mr. +Armenger. + +She rose, blushing a little, to do honour to one of her father's county +acquaintance, as she thought; when a fair-haired gentleman dashed in, +very much excited and very wet, and made his way towards her. + +"I _would_ come, Miss Marchmont," he said,--"I would come, though the +day was so wet. Everybody vowed I was mad to think of it, and it was as +much as my poor brute of a horse could do to get over the ten miles of +swamp between this and my uncle's house; but I would come! Where's +John? I want to see John. Didn't I always tell him he'd come into the +Lincolnshire property? Didn't I always say so, now? You should have +seen Martin Mostyn's face--he's got a capital berth in the War Office, +and he's such a snob!--when I told him the news: it was as long as my +arm! But I must see John, dear old fellow! I long to congratulate him." + +Mary stood with her hands clasped, and her breath coming quickly. The +blush had quite faded out, and left her unusually pale. But Edward +Arundel did not see this: young gentlemen of four-and-twenty are not +very attentive to every change of expression in little girls of +thirteen. + +"Oh, is it you, Mr. Arundel? Is it really you?" + +She spoke in a low voice, and it was almost difficult to keep the +rushing tears back while she did so. She had pictured him so often in +peril, in famine, in sickness, in death, that to see him here, well, +happy, light-hearted, cordial, handsome, and brave, as she had seen him +four-and-a-half years before in the two-pair back in Oakley Street, was +almost too much for her to bear without the relief of tears. But she +controlled her emotion as bravely as if she had been a woman of twenty. + +"I am so glad to see you," she said quietly; "and papa will be so glad +too! It is the only thing we want, now we are rich; to have you with +us. We have talked of you so often; and I--we--have been so unhappy +sometimes, thinking that----" + +"That I should be killed, I suppose?" + +"Yes; or wounded very, very badly. The battles in India have been +dreadful, have they not?" + +Mr. Arundel smiled at her earnestness. + +"They have not been exactly child's play," he said, shaking back his +chesnut hair and smoothing his thick moustache. He was a man now, and a +very handsome one; something of that type which is known in this year +of grace as "swell"; but brave and chivalrous withal, and not afflicted +with any impediment in his speech. "The men who talk of the Affghans as +a chicken-hearted set of fellows are rather out of their reckoning. The +Indians can fight, Miss Mary, and fight like the devil; but we can lick +'em!" + +He walked over to the fireplace, where--upon this chilly wet day, there +was a fire burning--and began to shake himself dry. Mary, following him +with her eyes, wondered if there was such another soldier in all Her +Majesty's dominions, and how soon he would be made General-in-Chief of +the Army of the Indus. + +"Then you've not been wounded at all, Mr. Arundel?" she said, after a +pause. + +"Oh, yes, I've been wounded; I got a bullet in my shoulder from an +Affghan musket, and I'm home on sick-leave." + +This time he saw the expression of her face, and interpreted her look +of alarm. + +"But I'm not ill, you know, Miss Marchmont," he said, laughing. "Our +fellows are very glad of a wound when they feel home-sick. The 8th come +home before long, all of 'em; and I've a twelvemonth's leave of +absence; and we're pretty sure to be ordered out again by the end of +that time, as I don't believe there's much chance of quiet over there." + +"You will go out again!----" + +Edward Arundel smiled at her mournful tone. + +"To be sure, Miss Mary. I have my captaincy to win, you know; I'm only +a lieutenant, as yet." + +It was only a twelvemonth's reprieve, after all, then, Mary thought. He +would go back again--to suffer, and to be wounded, and to die, perhaps. +But then, on the other hand, there was a twelvemonth's respite; and her +father might in that time prevail upon the young soldier to stay at +Marchmont Towers. It was such inexpressible happiness to see him once +more, to know that he was safe and well, that Mary could scarcely do +otherwise than see all things in a sunny light just now. + +She ran to John Marchmont's study to tell him of the coming of this +welcome visitor; but she wept upon her father's shoulder before she +could explain who it was whose coming had made her so glad. Very few +friendships had broken the monotony of her solitary existence; and +Edward Arundel was the only chivalrous image she had ever known, out of +her books. + +John Marchmont was scarcely less pleased than his child to see the man +who had befriended him in his poverty. Never has more heartfelt welcome +been given than that which greeted Edward Arundel at Marchmont Towers. + +"You will stay with us, of course, my dear Arundel," John said; "you +will stop for September and the shooting. You know you promised you'd +make this your shooting-box; and we'll build the tennis-court. Heaven +knows, there's room enough for it in the great quadrangle; and there's +a billiard-room over this, though I'm afraid the table is out of order. +But we can soon set that right, can't we, Polly?" + +"Yes, yes, papa; out of my pocket-money, if you like." + +Mary Marchmont said this in all good faith. It was sometimes difficult +for her to remember that her father was really rich, and had no need of +help out of her pocket-money. The slender savings in her little purse +had often given him some luxury that he would not otherwise have had, +in the time gone by. + +"You got my letter, then?" John said; "the letter in which I told +you----" + +"That Marchmont Towers was yours. Yes, my dear old boy. That letter was +amongst a packet my agent brought me half-an-hour before I left +Calcutta. God bless you, dear old fellow; how glad I was to hear of it! +I've only been in England a fortnight. I went straight from Southampton +to Dangerfield to see my father and mother, stayed there little over +ten days, and then offended them all by running away. I reached +Swampington yesterday, slept at my uncle Hubert's, paid my respects to +my cousin Olivia, who is,--well, I've told you what she is,--and rode +over here this morning, much to the annoyance of the inhabitants of the +Rectory. So, you see, I've been doing nothing but offending people for +your sake, John; and for yours, Miss Mary. By-the-by, I've brought you +such a doll!" + +A doll! Mary's pale face flushed a faint crimson. Did he think her +still a child, then, this soldier; did he think her only a silly child, +with no thought above a doll, when she would have gone out to India, +and braved every peril of that cruel country, to be his nurse and +comfort in fever and sickness, like the brave Sisters of Mercy she had +read of in some of her novels? + +Edward Arundel saw that faint crimson glow lighting up in her face. + +"I beg your pardon, Miss Marchmont," he said. "I was only joking; of +course you are a young lady now, almost grown up, you know. Can you +play chess?" + +"No, Mr. Arundel." + +"I am sorry for that; for I have brought you a set of chessmen that +once belonged to Dost Mahommed Khan. But I'll teach you the game, if +you like?" + +"Oh, yes, Mr. Arundel; I should like it very, very much." + +The young soldier could not help being amused by the little girl's +earnestness. She was about the same age as his sister Letitia; but, oh, +how widely different to that bouncing and rather wayward young lady, +who tore the pillow-lace upon her muslin frocks, rumpled her long +ringlets, rasped the skin off the sharp points of her elbows, by +repeated falls upon the gravel-paths at Dangerfield, and tormented a +long-suffering Swiss attendant, half-lady's-maid, half-governess, from +morning till night. No fold was awry in Mary Marchmont's simple +black-silk frock; no plait disarranged in the neat cambric tucker that +encircled the slender white throat. Intellect here reigned supreme. +Instead of the animal spirits of a thoughtless child, there was a +woman's loving carefulness for others, a woman's unselfishness and +devotion. + +Edward Arundel did not understand all this, but I think he had a dim +comprehension of the greater part of it. + +"She is a dear little thing," he thought, as he watched her clinging to +her father's arm; and then he began to talk about Marchmont Towers, and +insisted upon being shown over the house; and, perhaps for the first +time since the young heir had shot himself to death upon a bright +September morning in a stubble-field within earshot of the park, the +sound of merry laughter echoed through the long corridors, and +resounded in the unoccupied rooms. + +Edward Arundel was in raptures with everything. "There never was such a +dear old place," he said. "'Gloomy?' 'dreary?' 'draughty?' pshaw! Cut a +few logs out of that wood at the back there, pile 'em up in the wide +chimneys, and set a light to 'em, and Marchmont Towers would be like a +baronial mansion at Christmas-time." He declared that every dingy +portrait he looked at was a Rubens or a Velasquez, or a Vandyke, a +Holbein, or a Lely. + +"Look at that fur border to the old woman's black-velvet gown, John; +look at the colouring of the hands! Do you think anybody but Peter Paul +could have painted that? Do you see that girl with the blue-satin +stomacher and the flaxen ringlets?--one of your ancestresses, Miss +Mary, and very like you. If that isn't in Sir Peter Lely's best +style,--his earlier style, you know, before he was spoiled by royal +patronage, and got lazy,--I know nothing of painting." + +The young soldier ran on in this manner, as he hurried his host from +room to room; now throwing open windows to look out at the wet +prospect; now rapping against the wainscot to find secret hiding-places +behind sliding panels; now stamping on the oak-flooring in the hope of +discovering a trap-door. He pointed out at least ten eligible sites for +the building of the tennis-court; he suggested more alterations and +improvements than a builder could have completed in a lifetime. The +place brightened under the influence of his presence, as a landscape +lights up under a burst of sudden sunshine breaking through a dull grey +sky. + +Mary Marchmont did not wait for the removal of the table-cloth that +evening, but dined with her father and his friend in a snug +oak-panelled chamber, half-breakfast-room, half-library, which opened +out of the western drawing-room. How different Edward Arundel was to +all the rest of the world, Miss Marchmont thought; how gay, how bright, +how genial, how happy! The county families, mustered in their fullest +force, couldn't make such mirth amongst them as this young soldier +created in his single person. + +The evening was an evening in fairy-land. Life was sometimes like the +last scene in a pantomime, after all, with rose-coloured cloud and +golden sunlight. + +One of the Marchmont servants went over to Swampington early the next +day to fetch Mr. Arundel's portmanteaus from the Rectory; and after +dinner upon that second evening, Mary Marchmont took her seat opposite +Edward, and listened reverently while he explained to her the moves +upon the chessboard. + +"So you don't know my cousin Olivia?" the young soldier said by-and-by. +"That's odd! I should have thought she would have called upon you long +before this." + +Mary Marchmont shook her head. + +"No," she said; "Miss Arundel has never been to see us; and I should so +like to have seen her, because she would have told me about you. Mr. +Arundel has called one or twice upon papa; but I have never seen him. +He is not our clergyman, you know; Marchmont Towers belongs to +Kemberling parish." + +"To be sure; and Swampington is ten miles off. But, for all that, I +should have thought Olivia would have called upon you. I'll drive you +over to-morrow, if John thinks me whip enough to trust you with me, and +you shall see Livy. The Rectory's such a queer old place!" + +Perhaps Mr. Marchmont was rather doubtful as to the propriety of +committing his little girl to Edward Arundel's charioteership for a +ten-mile drive upon a wretched road. Be it as it might, a lumbering +barouche, with a pair of over-fed horses, was ordered next morning, +instead of the high, old-fashioned gig which the soldier had proposed +driving; and the safety of the two young people was confided to a sober +old coachman, rather sulky at the prospect of a drive to Swampington so +soon after the rainy weather. + +It does not rain always, even in this part of Lincolnshire; and the +July morning was bright and pleasant, the low hedges fragrant with +starry opal-tinted wild roses and waxen honeysuckle, the yellowing corn +waving in the light summer breeze. Mary assured her companion that she +had no objection whatever to the odour of cigar-smoke; so Mr. Arundel +lolled upon the comfortable cushions of the barouche, with his back to +the horses, smoking cheroots, and talking gaily, while Miss Marchmont +sat in the place of state opposite to him. A happy drive; a drive in a +fairy chariot through regions of fairyland, for ever and for ever to be +remembered by Mary Marchmont. + +They left the straggling hedges and the yellowing corn behind them +by-and-by, as they drew near the outskirts of Swampington. The town +lies lower even than the surrounding country, flat and low as that +country is. A narrow river crawls at the base of a half-ruined wall, +which once formed part of the defences of the place. Black barges lie +at anchor here; and a stone bridge, guarded by a toll-house, spans the +river. Mr. Marchmont's carriage lumbered across this bridge, and under +an archway, low, dark, stony, and grim, into a narrow street of solid, +well-built houses, low, dark, stony, and grim, like the archway, but +bearing the stamp of reputable occupation. I believe the grass grew, +and still grows, in this street, as it does in all the other streets +and in the market-place of Swampington. They are all pretty much in the +same style, these streets,--all stony, narrow, dark, and grim; and they +wind and twist hither and thither, and in and out, in a manner utterly +bewildering to the luckless stranger, who, seeing that they are all +alike, has no landmarks for his guidance. + +There are two handsome churches, both bearing an early date in the +history of Norman supremacy: one crowded into an inconvenient corner of +a back street, and choked by the houses built up round about it; the +other lying a little out of the town, upon a swampy waste looking +towards the sea, which flows within a mile of Swampington. Indeed, +there is no lack of water in that Lincolnshire borough. The river winds +about the outskirts of the town; unexpected creeks and inlets meet you +at every angle; shallow pools lie here and there about the marshy +suburbs; and in the dim distance the low line of the grey sea meets the +horizon. + +But perhaps the positive ugliness of the town is something redeemed by +a vague air of romance and old-world mystery which pervades it. It is +an exceptional place, and somewhat interesting thereby. The great +Norman church upon the swampy waste, the scattered tombstones, bordered +by the low and moss-grown walls, make a picture which is apt to dwell +in the minds of those who look upon it, although it is by no means a +pretty picture. The Rectory lies close to the churchyard; and a +wicket-gate opens from Mr. Arundel's garden into a narrow pathway, +leading across a patch of tangled grass and through a lane of sunken +and lopsided tombstones, to the low vestry door. The Rectory itself is +a long irregular building, to which one incumbent after another has +built the additional chamber, or chimney, or porch, or bow-window, +necessary for his accommodation. There is very little garden in front +of the house, but a patch of lawn and shrubbery and a clump of old +trees at the back. + +"It's not a pretty house, is it, Miss Marchmont?" asked Edward, as he +lifted his companion out of the carriage. + +"No, not very pretty," Mary answered; "but I don't think any thing is +pretty in Lincolnshire. Oh, there's the sea!" she cried, looking +suddenly across the marshes to the low grey line in the distance. "How +I wish we were as near the sea at Marchmont Towers!" + +The young lady had something of a romantic passion for the +wide-spreading ocean. It was an unknown region, that stretched far +away, and was wonderful and beautiful by reason of its solemn mystery. +All her Corsair stories were allied to that far, fathomless deep. The +white sail in the distance was Conrad's, perhaps; and he was speeding +homeward to find Medora dead in her lonely watch-tower, with fading +flowers upon her breast. The black hull yonder, with dirty canvas +spread to the faint breeze, was the bark of some terrible pirate bound +on rapine and ravage. (She was a coal-barge, I have no doubt, sailing +Londonward with her black burden.) Nymphs and Lurleis, Mermaids and +Mermen, and tiny water-babies with silvery tails, for ever splashing in +the sunshine, were all more or less associated with the long grey line +towards which Mary Marchmont looked with solemn, yearning eyes. + +"We'll drive down to the seashore some morning, Polly," said Mr. +Arundel. He was beginning to call her Polly, now and then, in the easy +familiarity of their intercourse. "We'll spend a long day on the sands, +and I'll smoke cheroots while you pick up shells and seaweed." + +Miss Marchmont clasped her hands in silent rapture. Her face was +irradiated by the new light of happiness. How good he was to her, this +brave soldier, who must undoubtedly be made Commander-in-Chief of the +Army of the Indus in a year or so! + +Edward Arundel led his companion across the flagged way between the +iron gate of the Rectory garden and a half-glass door leading into the +hall. Out of this simple hall, only furnished with a couple of chairs, +a barometer, and an umbrella-stand, they went, without announcement, +into a low, old-fashioned room, half-study, half-parlour, where a young +lady was sitting at a table writing. + +She rose as Edward opened the door, and came to meet him. + +"At last!" she said; "I thought your rich friends engrossed all your +attention." + +She paused, seeing Mary. + +"This is Miss Marchmont, Olivia," said Edward; "the only daughter of my +old friend. You must be very fond of her, please; for she is a dear +little girl, and I know she means to love you." + +Mary lifted her soft brown eyes to the face of the young lady, and then +dropped her eyelids suddenly, as if half-frightened by what she had +seen there. + +What was it? What was it in Olivia Arundel's handsome face from which +those who looked at her so often shrank, repelled and disappointed? +Every line in those perfectly-modelled features was beautiful to look +at; but, as a whole, the face was not beautiful. Perhaps it was too +much like a marble mask, exquisitely chiselled, but wanting in variety +of expression. The handsome mouth was rigid; the dark grey eyes had a +cold light in them. The thick bands of raven-black hair were drawn +tightly off a square forehead, which was the brow of an intellectual +and determined man rather than of a woman. Yes; womanhood was the +something wanted in Olivia Arundel's face. Intellect, resolution, +courage, are rare gifts; but they are not the gifts whose tokens we +look for most anxiously in a woman's face. If Miss Arundel had been a +queen, her diadem would have become her nobly; and she might have been +a very great queen: but Heaven help the wretched creature who had +appealed from minor tribunals to _her_ mercy! Heaven help delinquents +of every kind whose last lingering hope had been in her compassion! + +Perhaps Mary Marchmont vaguely felt something of all this. At any rate, +the enthusiasm with which she had been ready to regard Edward Arundel's +cousin cooled suddenly beneath the winter in that pale, quiet face. + +Miss Arundel said a few words to her guest; kindly enough; but rather +too much as if she had been addressing a child of six. Mary, who was +accustomed to be treated as a woman, was wounded by her manner. + +"How different she is from Edward!" thought Miss Marchmont. "I shall +never like her as I like him." + +"So this is the pale-faced child who is to have Marchmont Towers +by-and-by," thought Miss Arundel; "and these rich friends are the +people for whom Edward stays away from us." + +The lines about the rigid mouth grew harder, the cold light in the grey +eyes grew colder, as the young lady thought this. + +It was thus that these two women met: while one was but a child in +years; while the other was yet in the early bloom of womanhood: these +two, who were predestined to hate each other, and inflict suffering +upon each other in the days that were to come. It was thus that they +thought of one another; each with an unreasonable dread, an undefined +aversion gathering in her breast. + + * * * * * + +Six weeks passed, and Edward Arundel kept his promise of shooting the +partridges on the Marchmont preserves. The wood behind the Towers, and +the stubbled corn-fields on the home-farm, bristled with game. The +young soldier heartily enjoyed himself through that delicious first +week in September; and came home every afternoon, with a heavy game-bag +and a light heart, to boast of his prowess before Mary and her father. + +The young man was by this time familiar with every nook and corner of +Marchmont Towers; and the builders were already at work at the +tennis-court which John had promised to erect for his friend's +pleasure. The site ultimately chosen was a bleak corner of the eastern +front, looking to the wood; but as Edward declared the spot in every +way eligible, John had no inclination to find fault with his friend's +choice. There was other work for the builders; for Mr. Arundel had +taken a wonderful fancy to a ruined boat-house upon the brink of the +river; and this boat-house was to be rebuilt and restored, and made +into a delightful pavilion, in the upper chambers of which Mary might +sit with her father in the hot summer weather, while Mr. Arundel kept a +couple of trim wherries in the recesses below. + +So, you see, the young man made himself very much at home, in his own +innocent, boyish fashion, at Marchmont Towers. But as he had brought +life and light to the old Lincolnshire mansion, nobody was inclined to +quarrel with him for any liberties which he might choose to take: and +every one looked forward sorrowfully to the dark days before Christmas, +at which time he was under a promise to return to Dangerfield Park; +there to spend the remainder of his leave of absence. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +OLIVIA. + + +While busy workmen were employed at Marchmont Towers, hammering at the +fragile wooden walls of the tennis-court,--while Mary Marchmont and +Edward Arundel wandered, with the dogs at their heels, amongst the +rustle of the fallen leaves in the wood behind the great gaunt +Lincolnshire mansion,--Olivia, the Rector's daughter, sat in her +father's quiet study, or walked to and fro in the gloomy streets of +Swampington, doing her duty day by day. + +Yes, the life of this woman is told in these few words: she did her +duty. From the earliest age at which responsibility can begin, she had +done her duty, uncomplainingly, unswervingly, as it seemed to those who +watched her. + +She was a good woman. The bishop of the diocese had specially +complimented her for her active devotion to that holy work which falls +somewhat heavily upon the only daughter of a widowed rector. All the +stately dowagers about Swampington were loud in their praises of Olivia +Arundel. Such devotion, such untiring zeal in a young person of +three-and-twenty years of age, were really most laudable, these solemn +elders said, in tones of supreme patronage; for the young saint of whom +they spoke wore shabby gowns, and was the portionless daughter of a +poor man who had let the world slip by him, and who sat now amid the +dreary ruins of a wasted life, looking yearningly backward, with hollow +regretful eyes, and bewailing the chances he had lost. Hubert Arundel +loved his daughter; loved her with that sorrowful affection we feel for +those who suffer for our sins, whose lives have been blighted by our +follies. + +Every shabby garment which Olivia wore was a separate reproach to her +father; every deprivation she endured stung him as cruelly as if she +had turned upon him and loudly upbraided him for his wasted life and +his squandered patrimony. He loved her; and he watched her day after +day, doing her duty to him as to all others; doing her duty for ever +and for ever; but when he most yearned to take her to his heart, her +own cold perfections arose, and separated him from the child he loved. +What was he but a poor, vacillating, erring creature; weak, supine, +idle, epicurean; unworthy to approach this girl, who never seemed to +sicken of the hardness of her life, who never grew weary of well-doing? + +But how was it that, for all her goodness, Olivia Arundel won so small +a share of earthly reward? I do not allude to the gold and jewels and +other worldly benefits with which the fairies in our children's +story-books reward the benevolent mortals who take compassion upon them +when they experimentalise with human nature in the guise of old women; +but I speak rather of the love and gratitude, the tenderness and +blessings, which usually wait upon the footsteps of those who do good +deeds. Olivia Arundel's charities were never ceasing; her life was one +perpetual sacrifice to her father's parishioners. There was no natural +womanly vanity, no simple girlish fancy, which this woman had not +trodden under foot, and trampled out in the hard pathway she had chosen +for herself. + +The poor people knew this. Rheumatic men and women, crippled and +bed-ridden, knew that the blankets which covered them had been bought +out of money that would have purchased silk dresses for the Rector's +handsome daughter, or luxuries for the frugal table at the Rectory. +They knew this. They knew that, through frost and snow, through storm +and rain, Olivia Arundel would come to sit beside their dreary hearths, +their desolate sick-beds, and read holy books to them; sublimely +indifferent to the foul weather without, to the stifling atmosphere +within, to dirt, discomfort, poverty, inconvenience; heedless of all, +except the performance of the task she had set herself. + +People knew this; and they were grateful to Miss Arundel, and +submissive and attentive in her presence; they gave her such return as +they were able to give for the benefits, spiritual and temporal, which +she bestowed upon them: but they did not love her. + +They spoke of her in reverential accents, and praised her whenever her +name was mentioned; but they spoke with tearless eyes and unfaltering +voices. Her virtues were beautiful, of course, as virtue in the +abstract must always be; but I think there was a want of individuality +in her goodness, a lack of personal tenderness in her kindness, which +separated her from the people she benefited. + +Perhaps there was something almost chilling in the dull monotony of +Miss Arundel's benevolence. There was no blemish of mortal weakness +upon the good deeds she performed; and the recipients of her bounties, +seeing her so far off, grew afraid of her, even by reason of her +goodness, and _could_ not love her. + +She made no favourites amongst her father's parishioners. Of all the +school-children she had taught, she had never chosen one curly-headed +urchin for a pet. She had no good days and bad days; she was never +foolishly indulgent or extravagantly cordial. She was always the +same,--Church-of-England charity personified; meting out all mercies by +line and rule; doing good with a note-book and a pencil in her hand; +looking on every side with calm, scrutinising eyes; rigidly just, +terribly perfect. + +It was a fearfully monotonous, narrow, and uneventful life which Olivia +Arundel led at Swampington Rectory. At three-and-twenty years of age +she could have written her history upon a few pages. The world outside +that dull Lincolnshire town might be shaken by convulsions, and made +irrecognisable by repeated change; but all those outer changes and +revolutions made themselves but little felt in the quiet grass-grown +streets, and the flat surrounding swamps, within whose narrow boundary +Olivia Arundel had lived from infancy to womanhood; performing and +repeating the same duties from day to day, with no other progress to +mark the lapse of her existence than the slow alternation of the +seasons, and the dark hollow circles which had lately deepened beneath +her grey eyes, and the depressed lines about the corners of her firm +lower-lip. + +These outward tokens, beyond her own control, alone betrayed this +woman's secret. She was weary of her life. She sickened under the dull +burden which she had borne so long, and carried so patiently. The slow +round of duty was loathsome to her. The horrible, narrow, unchanging +existence, shut in by cruel walls, which bounded her on every side and +kept her prisoner to herself, was odious to her. The powerful intellect +revolted against the fetters that bound and galled it. The proud heart +beat with murderous violence against the bonds that kept it captive. + +"Is my life always to be this--always, always, always?" The passionate +nature burst forth sometimes, and the voice that had so long been +stifled cried aloud in the black stillness of the night, "Is it to go +on for ever and for ever; like the slow river that creeps under the +broken wall? O my God! is the lot of other women never to be mine? Am I +never to be loved and admired; never to be sought and chosen? Is my +life to be all of one dull, grey, colourless monotony; without one +sudden gleam of sunshine, without one burst of rainbow-light?" + +How shall I anatomise this woman, who, gifted with no womanly +tenderness of nature, unendowed with that pitiful and unreasoning +affection which makes womanhood beautiful, yet tried, and tried +unceasingly, to do her duty, and to be good; clinging, in the very +blindness of her soul, to the rigid formulas of her faith, but unable +to seize upon its spirit? Some latent comprehension of the want in her +nature made her only the more scrupulous in the performance of those +duties which she had meted out for herself. The holy sentences she had +heard, Sunday after Sunday, feebly read by her father, haunted her +perpetually, and would not be put away from her. The tenderness in +every word of those familiar gospels was a reproach to the want of +tenderness in her own heart. She could be good to her father's +parishioners, and she could make sacrifices for them; but she could not +love them, any more than they could love her. + +That divine and universal pity, that spontaneous and boundless +affection, which is the chief loveliness of womanhood and Christianity, +had no part in her nature. She could understand Judith with the +Assyrian general's gory head held aloft in her uplifted hand; but she +could not comprehend that diviner mystery of sinful Magdalene sitting +at her Master's feet, with the shame and love in her face half hidden +by a veil of drooping hair. + +No; Olivia Arundel was not a good woman, in the commoner sense we +attach to the phrase. It was not natural to her to be gentle and +tender, to be beneficent, compassionate, and kind, as it is to the +women we are accustomed to call "good." She was a woman who was for +ever fighting against her nature; who was for ever striving to do +right; for ever walking painfully upon the difficult road mapped out +for her; for ever measuring herself by the standard she had set up for +her self-abasement. And who shall say that such a woman as this, if she +persevere unto the end, shall not wear a brighter crown than her more +gentle sisters,--the starry circlet of a martyr? + +If she persevere unto the end! But was Olivia Arundel the woman to do +this? The deepening circles about her eyes, the hollowing cheeks, and +the feverish restlessness of manner which she could not always control, +told how terrible the long struggle had become to her. If she could +have died then,--if she had fallen beneath the weight of her +burden,--what a record of sin and anguish might have remained unwritten +in the history of woman's life! But this woman was one of those who can +suffer, and yet not die. She bore her burden a little longer; only to +fling it down by-and-by, and to abandon herself to the eager devils who +had been watching for her so untiringly. + +Hubert Arundel was afraid of his daughter. The knowledge that he had +wronged her,--wronged her even before her birth by the foolish waste of +his patrimony, and wronged her through life by his lack of energy in +seeking such advancement as a more ambitious man might have won,--the +knowledge of this, and of his daughter's superior virtues, combined to +render the father ashamed and humiliated by the presence of his only +child. The struggle between this fear and his remorseful love of her +was a very painful one; but fear had the mastery, and the Rector of +Swampington was content to stand aloof, mutely watchful of his +daughter, wondering feebly whether she was happy, striving vainly to +discover that one secret, that keystone of the soul, which must exist +in every nature, however outwardly commonplace. + +Mr. Arundel had hoped that his daughter would marry, and marry well, +even at Swampington; for there were rich young landowners who visited +at the Rectory. But Olivia's handsome face won her few admirers, and at +three-and-twenty Miss Arundel had received no offer of marriage. The +father reproached himself for this. It was he who had blighted the life +of his penniless girl; it was his fault that no suitors came to woo his +motherless child. Yet many dowerless maidens have been sought and +loved; and I do not think it was Olivia's lack of fortune which kept +admirers at bay. I believe it was rather that inherent want of +tenderness which chilled and dispirited the timid young Lincolnshire +squires. + +Had Olivia ever been in love? Hubert Arundel constantly asked himself +this question. He did so because he saw that some blighting influence, +even beyond the poverty and dulness of her home, had fallen upon the +life of his only child. What was it? What was it? Was it some hopeless +attachment, some secret tenderness, which had never won the sweet +return of love for love? + +He would no more have ventured to question his daughter upon this +subject than he would have dared to ask his fair young Queen, newly +married in those days, whether she was happy with her handsome husband. + +Miss Arundel stood by the Rectory gate in the early September evening, +watching the western sunlight on the low sea-line beyond the marshes. +She was wearied and worn out by a long day devoted to visiting amongst +her parishioners; and she stood with her elbow leaning on the gate, and +her head resting on her hand, in an attitude peculiarly expressive of +fatigue. She had thrown off her bonnet, and her black hair was pushed +carelessly from her forehead. Those masses of hair had not that purple +lustre, nor yet that wandering glimmer of red gold, which gives +peculiar beauty to some raven tresses. Olivia's hair was long and +luxuriant; but it was of that dead, inky blackness, which is all +shadow. It was dark, fathomless, inscrutable, like herself. The cold +grey eyes looked thoughtfully seaward. Another day's duty had been +done. Long chapters of Holy Writ had been read to troublesome old women +afflicted with perpetual coughs; stifling, airless cottages had been +visited; the dull, unvarying track had been beaten by the patient feet, +and the yellow sun was going down upon another joyless day. But did the +still evening hour bring peace to that restless spirit? No; by the +rigid compression of the lips, by the feverish lustre in the eyes, by +the faint hectic flush in the oval cheeks, by every outward sign of +inward unrest, Olivia Arundel was not at peace! The listlessness of her +attitude was merely the listlessness of physical fatigue. The mental +struggle was not finished with the close of the day's work. + +The young lady looked up suddenly as the tramp of a horse's hoofs, slow +and lazy-sounding on the smooth road, met her ear. Her eyes dilated, +and her breath went and came more rapidly; but she did not stir from +her weary attitude. + +The horse was from the stables at Marchmont Towers, and the rider was +Mr. Arundel. He came smiling to the Rectory gate, with the low sunshine +glittering in his chesnut hair, and the light of careless, indifferent +happiness irradiating his handsome face. + +"You must have thought I'd forgotten you and my uncle, my dear Livy," +he said, as he sprang lightly from his horse. "We've been so busy with +the tennis-court, and the boat-house, and the partridges, and goodness +knows what besides at the Towers, that I couldn't get the time to ride +over till this evening. But to-day we dined early, on purpose that I +might have the chance of getting here. I come upon an important +mission, Livy, I assure you." + +"What do you mean?" + +There was no change in Miss Arundel's voice when she spoke to her +cousin; but there was a change, not easily to be defined, in her face +when she looked at him. It seemed as if that weary hopelessness of +expression which had settled on her countenance lately grew more weary, +more hopeless, as she turned towards this bright young soldier, +glorious in the beauty of his own light-heartedness. It may have been +merely the sharpness of contrast which produced this effect. It may +have been an actual change arising out of some secret hidden in +Olivia's breast. + +"What do you mean by an important mission, Edward?" she said. + +She had need to repeat the question; for the young man's attention had +wandered from her, and he was watching his horse as the animal cropped +the tangled herbage about the Rectory gate. + +"Why, I've come with an invitation to a dinner at Marchmont Towers. +There's to be a dinner-party; and, in point of fact, it's to be given +on purpose for you and my uncle. John and Polly are full of it. You'll +come, won't you, Livy?" + +Miss Arundel shrugged her shoulders, with an impatient sigh. + +"I hate dinner-parties," she said; "but, of course, if papa accepts Mr. +Marchmont's invitation, I cannot refuse to go. Papa must choose for +himself." + +There had been some interchange of civilities between Marchmont Towers +and Swampington Rectory during the six weeks which had passed since +Mary's introduction to Olivia Arundel; and this dinner-party was the +result of John's simple desire to do honour to his friend's kindred. + +"Oh, you must come, Livy," Mr. Arundel exclaimed. "The tennis-court is +going on capitally. I want you to give us your opinion again. Shall I +take my horse round to the stables? I am going to stop an hour or two, +and ride back by moonlight." + +Edward Arundel took the bridle in his hand, and the cousins walked +slowly round by the low garden-wall to a dismal and rather dilapidated +stable-yard at the back of the Rectory, where Hubert Arundel kept a +wall-eyed white horse, long-legged, shallow-chested, and large-headed, +and a fearfully and wonderfully made phaëton, with high wheels and a +mouldy leathern hood. + +Olivia walked by the young soldier's side with that air of hopeless +indifference that had so grown upon her very lately. Her eyelids +drooped with a look of sullen disdain; but the grey eyes glanced +furtively now and again at her companion's handsome face. He was very +handsome. The glitter of reddish gold in his hair, and the light in his +fearless blue eyes; the careless grace peculiar to the kind of man we +call "a swell;" the gay _insouciance_ of an easy, candid, generous +nature,--all combined to make Edward Arundel singularly attractive. +These spoiled children of nature demand our admiration, in very spite +of ourselves. These beautiful, useless creatures call upon us to +rejoice in their valueless beauty, like the flaunting poppies in the +cornfield, and the gaudy wild-flowers in the grass. + +The darkness of Olivia's face deepened after each furtive glance she +cast at her cousin. Could it be that this girl, to whom nature had +given strength but denied grace, envied the superficial attractions of +the young man at her side? She did envy him; she envied him that sunny +temperament which was so unlike her own; she envied him that wondrous +power of taking life lightly. Why should existence be so bright and +careless to him; while to her it was a terrible fever-dream, a long +sickness, a never-ceasing battle? + +"Is my uncle in the house?" Mr. Arundel asked, as he strolled from the +stable into the garden with his cousin by his side. + +"No; he has been out since dinner," Olivia answered; "but I expect him +back every minute. I came out into the garden,--the house seemed so hot +and stifling to-night, and I have been sitting in close cottages all +day." + +"Sitting in close cottages!" repeated Edward. "Ah, to be sure; visiting +your rheumatic old pensioners, I suppose. How good you are, Olivia!" + +"Good!" + +She echoed the word in the very bitterness of a scorn that could not be +repressed. + +"Yes; everybody says so. The Millwards were at Marchmont Towers the +other day, and they were talking of you, and praising your goodness, +and speaking of your schools, and your blanket-associations, and your +invalid-societies, and your mutual-help clubs, and all your plans for +the parish. Why, you must work as hard as a prime-minister, Livy, by +their account; you, who are only a few years older than I." + +Only a few years! She started at the phrase, and bit her lip. + +"I was three-and-twenty last month," she said. + +"Ah, yes; to be sure. And I'm one-and-twenty. Then you're only two +years older than I, Livy. But, then, you see, you're so clever, that +you seem much older than you are. You'd make a fellow feel rather +afraid of you, you know. Upon my word you do, Livy." + +Miss Arundel did not reply to this speech of her cousin's. She was +walking by his side up and down a narrow gravelled pathway, bordered by +a hazel-hedge; she had gathered one of the slender twigs, and was idly +stripping away the fluffy buds. + +"What do you think, Livy?" cried Edward suddenly, bursting out laughing +at the end of the question. "What do you think? It's my belief you've +made a conquest." + +"What do you mean?" + +"There you go; turning upon a fellow as if you could eat him. Yes, +Livy; it's no use your looking savage. You've made a conquest; and of +one of the best fellows in the world, too. John Marchmont's in love +with you." + +Olivia Arundel's face flushed a vivid crimson to the roots of her black +hair. + +"How dare you come here to insult me, Edward Arundel?" she cried +passionately. + +"Insult you? Now, Livy dear, that's too bad, upon my word," +remonstrated the young man. "I come and tell you that as good a man as +ever breathed is over head and ears in love with you, and that you may +be mistress of one of the finest estates in Lincolnshire if you please, +and you turn round upon me like no end of furies." + +"Because I hate to hear you talk nonsense," answered Olivia, her bosom +still heaving with that first outburst of emotion, but her voice +suppressed and cold. "Am I so beautiful, or so admired or beloved, that +a man who has not seen me half a dozen times should fall in love with +me? Do those who know me estimate me so much, or prize me so highly, +that a stranger should think of me? You _do_ insult me, Edward Arundel, +when you talk as you have talked to-night." + +She looked out towards the low yellow light in the sky with a black +gloom upon her face, which no reflected glimmer of the sinking sun +could illumine; a settled darkness, near akin to the utter blackness of +despair. + +"But, good heavens, Olivia, what do you mean?" cried the young man. "I +tell you something that I think a good joke, and you go and make a +tragedy out of it. If I'd told Letitia that a rich widower had fallen +in love with her, she'd think it the finest fun in the world." + +"I'm not your sister Letitia." + +"No; but I wish you'd half as good a temper as she has, Livy. However, +never mind; I'll say no more. If poor old Marchmont has fallen in love +with you, that's his look-out. Poor dear old boy, he's let out the +secret of his weakness half a dozen ways within these last few days. +It's Miss Arundel this, and Miss Arundel the other; so unselfish, so +accomplished, so ladylike, so good! That's the way he goes on, poor +simple old dear; without having the remotest notion that he's making a +confounded fool of himself." + +Olivia tossed the rumpled hair from her forehead with an impatient +gesture of her hand. + +"Why should this Mr. Marchmont think all this of me?" she said, +"when--" she stopped abruptly. + +"When--what, Livy?" + +"When other people don't think it." + +"How do you know what other people think? You haven't asked them, I +suppose?" + +The young soldier treated his cousin in very much the same +free-and-easy manner which he displayed towards his sister Letitia. It +would have been almost difficult for him to recognise any degree in his +relationship to the two girls. He loved Letitia better than Olivia; but +his affection for both was of exactly the same character. + +Hubert Arundel came into the garden, wearied out, like his daughter, +while the two cousins were walking under the shadow of the neglected +hazels. He declared his willingness to accept the invitation to +Marchmont Towers, and promised to answer John's ceremonious note the +next day. + +"Cookson, from Kemberling, will be there, I suppose," he said, alluding +to a brother parson, "and the usual set? Well, I'll come, Ned, if you +wish it. You'd like to go, Olivia?" + +"If you like, papa." + +There was a duty to be performed now--the duty of placid obedience to +her father; and Miss Arundel's manner changed from angry impatience to +grave respect. She owed no special duty, be it remembered, to her +cousin. She had no line or rule by which to measure her conduct to him. + +She stood at the gate nearly an hour later, and watched the young man +ride away in the dim moonlight. If every separate tramp of his horse's +hoofs had struck upon her heart, it could scarcely have given her more +pain than she felt as the sound of those slow footfalls died away in +the distance. + +"O my God," she cried, "is this madness to undo all that I have done? +Is this folly to be the climax of my dismal life? Am I to die for the +love of a frivolous, fair-haired boy, who laughs in my face when he +tells me that his friend has pleased to 'take a fancy to me'?" + +She walked away towards the house; then stopping, with a sudden shiver, +she turned, and went back to the hazel-alley she had paced with Edward +Arundel. + +"Oh, my narrow life!" she muttered between her set teeth; "my narrow +life! It is that which has made me the slave of this madness. I love +him because he is the brightest and fairest thing I have ever seen. I +love him because he brings me all I have ever known of a more beautiful +world than that I live in. Bah! why do I reason with myself?" she +cried, with a sudden change of manner. "I love him because I am mad." + +She paced up and down the hazel-shaded pathway till the moonlight grew +broad and full, and every ivy-grown gable of the Rectory stood sharply +out against the vivid purple of the sky. She paced up and down, trying +to trample the folly within her under her feet as she went; a fierce, +passionate, impulsive woman, fighting against her mad love for a +bright-faced boy. + +"Two years older--only two years!" she said; "but he spoke of the +difference between us as if it had been half a century. And then I am +so clever, that I seem older than I am; and he is afraid of me! Is it +for this that I have sat night after night in my father's study, poring +over the books that were too difficult for him? What have I made of +myself in my pride of intellect? What reward have I won for my +patience?" + +Olivia Arundel looked back at her long life of duty--a dull, dead +level, unbroken by one of those monuments which mark the desert of the +past; a desolate flat, unlovely as the marshes between the low Rectory +wall and the shimmering grey sea. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +"MY LIFE IS COLD, AND DARK, AND DREARY." + + +Mr. Richard Paulette, of that eminent legal firm, Paulette, Paulette, +and Mathewson, coming to Marchmont Towers on business, was surprised to +behold the quiet ease with which the sometime copying-clerk received +the punctilious country gentry who came to sit at his board and do him +honour. + +Of all the legal fairy-tales, of all the parchment-recorded romances, +of all the poetry run into affidavits, in which the solicitor had ever +been concerned, this story seemed the strangest. Not so very strange in +itself, for such romances are not uncommon in the history of a lawyer's +experience; but strange by reason of the tranquil manner in which John +Marchmont accepted his new position, and did the honours of his house +to his late employer. + +"Ah, Paulette," Edward Arundel said, clapping the solicitor on the +back, "I don't suppose you believed me when I told you that my friend +here was heir-presumptive to a handsome fortune." + +The dinner-party at the Towers was conducted with that stately grandeur +peculiar to such solemnities. There was the usual round of country-talk +and parish-talk; the hunting squires leading the former section of the +discourse, the rectors and rectors' wives supporting the latter part of +the conversation. You heard on one side that Martha Harris' husband had +left off drinking, and attended church morning and evening; and on the +other that the old grey fox that had been hunted nine seasons between +Crackbin Bottom and Hollowcraft Gorse had perished ignobly in the +poultry-yard of a recusant farmer. While your left ear became conscious +of the fact that little Billy Smithers had fallen into a copper of +scalding water, your right received the dismal tidings that all the +young partridges had been drowned by the rains after St. Swithin, and +that there were hardly any of this year's birds, sir, and it would be a +very blue look-out for next season. + +Mary Marchmont had listened to gayer talk in Oakley Street than any +that was to be heard that night in her father's drawing-rooms, except +indeed when Edward Arundel left off flirting with some pretty girls in +blue, and hovered near her side for a little while, quizzing the +company. Heaven knows the young soldier's jokes were commonplace +enough; but Mary admired him as the most brilliant and accomplished of +wits. + +"How do you like my cousin, Polly?" he asked at last. + +"Your cousin, Miss Arundel?" + +"Yes." + +"She is very handsome." + +"Yes, I suppose so," the young man answered carelessly. "Everybody says +that Livy's handsome; but it's rather a cold style of beauty, isn't it? +A little too much of the Pallas Athenë about it for my taste. I like +those girls in blue, with the crinkly auburn hair,--there's a touch of +red in it in the light,--and the dimples. You've a dimple, Polly, when +you smile." + +Miss Marchmont blushed as she received this information, and her brown +eyes wandered away, looking very earnestly at the pretty girls in blue. +She looked at them with a strange interest, eager to discover what it +was that Edward admired. + +"But you haven't answered my question, Polly," said Mr. Arundel. "I am +afraid you have been drinking too much wine, Miss Marchmont, and +muddling that sober little head of yours with the fumes of your papa's +tawny port. I asked you how you liked Olivia." + +Mary blushed again. + +"I don't know Miss Arundel well enough to like her--yet," she answered +timidly. + +"But shall you like her when you've known her longer? Don't be +jesuitical, Polly. Likings and dislikings are instantaneous and +instinctive. I liked you before I'd eaten half a dozen mouthfuls of the +roll you buttered for me at that breakfast in Oakley Street, Polly. You +don't like my cousin Olivia, miss; I can see that very plainly. You're +jealous of her." + +"Jealous of her!" + +The bright colour faded out of Mary Marchmont's face, and left her ashy +pale. + +"Do _you_ like her, then?" she asked. + +But Mr. Arundel was not such a coxcomb as to catch at the secret so +naïvely betrayed in that breathless question. + +"No, Polly," he said, laughing; "she's my cousin, you know, and I've +known her all my life; and cousins are like sisters. One likes to tease +and aggravate them, and all that; but one doesn't fall in love with +them. But I think I could mention somebody who thinks a great deal of +Olivia." + +"Who?" + +"Your papa." + +Mary looked at the young soldier in utter bewilderment. + +"Papa!" she echoed. + +"Yes, Polly. How would you like a stepmamma? How would you like your +papa to marry again?" + +Mary Marchmont started to her feet, as if she would have gone to her +father in the midst of all those spectators. John was standing near +Olivia and her father, talking to them, and playing nervously with his +slender watch-chain when he addressed the young lady. + +"My papa--marry again!" gasped Mary. "How dare you say such a thing, +Mr. Arundel?" + +Her childish devotion to her father arose in all its force; a flood of +passionate emotion that overwhelmed her sensitive nature. Marry again! +marry a woman who would separate him from his only child! Could he ever +dream for one brief moment of such a horrible cruelty? + +She looked at Olivia's sternly handsome face, and trembled. She could +almost picture that very woman standing between her and her father, and +putting her away from him. Her indignation quickly melted into grief. +Indignation, however intense, was always short-lived in that gentle +nature. + +"Oh, Mr Arundel!" she said, piteously appealing to the young man, "papa +would never, never, never marry again,--would he?" + +"Not if it was to grieve you, Polly, I dare say," Edward answered +soothingly. + +He had been dumbfounded by Mary's passionate sorrow. He had expected +that she would have been rather pleased, than otherwise, at the idea of +a young stepmother,--a companion in those vast lonely rooms, an +instructress and a friend as she grew to womanhood. + +"I was only talking nonsense, Polly darling," he said. "You mustn't +make yourself unhappy about any absurd fancies of mine. I think your +papa admires my cousin Olivia: and I thought, perhaps, you'd be glad to +have a stepmother." + +"Glad to have any one who'd take papa's love away from me?" Mary said +plaintively. "Oh, Mr. Arundel, how could you think so?" + +In all their familiarity the little girl had never learned to call her +father's friend by his Christian name, though he had often told her to +do so. She trembled to pronounce that simple Saxon name, which was so +beautiful and wonderful because it was his: but when she read a very +stupid novel, in which the hero was a namesake of Mr. Arundel's, the +vapid pages seemed to be phosphorescent with light wherever the name +appeared upon them. + +I scarcely know why John Marchmont lingered by Miss Arundel's chair. He +had heard her praises from every one. She was a paragon of goodness, an +uncanonised saint, for ever sacrificing herself for the benefit of +others. Perhaps he was thinking that such a woman as this would be the +best friend he could win for his little girl. He turned from the county +matrons, the tender, kindly, motherly creatures, who would have been +ready to take little Mary to the loving shelter of their arms, and +looked to Olivia Arundel--this cold, perfect benefactress of the +poor--for help in his difficulty. + +"She, who is so good to all her father's parishioners, could not refuse +to be kind to my poor Mary?" he thought. + +But how was he to win this woman's friendship for his darling? He asked +himself this question even in the midst of the frivolous people about +him, and with the buzz of their conversation in his ears. He was +perpetually tormenting himself about his little girl's future, which +seemed more dimly perplexing now than it had ever appeared in Oakley +Street, when the Lincolnshire property was a far-away dream, perhaps +never to be realised. He felt that his brief lease of life was running +out; he felt as if he and Mary had been standing upon a narrow tract of +yellow sand; very bright, very pleasant under the sunshine; but with +the slow-coming tide rising like a wall about them, and creeping +stealthily onward to overwhelm them. + +Mary might gather bright-coloured shells and wet seaweed in her +childish ignorance; but he, who knew that the flood was coming, could +but grow sick at heart with the dull horror of that hastening doom. If +the black waters had been doomed to close over them both, the father +might have been content to go down under the sullen waves, with his +daughter clasped to his breast. But it was not to be so. He was to sink +in that unknown stream while she was left upon the tempest-tossed +surface, to be beaten hither and thither, feebly battling with the +stormy billows. + +Could John Marchmont be a Christian, and yet feel this horrible dread +of the death which must separate him from his daughter? I fear this +frail, consumptive widower loved his child with an intensity of +affection that is scarcely reconcilable with Christianity. Such great +passions as these must be put away before the cross can be taken up, +and the troublesome path followed. In all love and kindness towards his +fellow-creatures, in all patient endurance of the pains and troubles +that befel himself, it would have been difficult to find a more +single-hearted follower of Gospel-teaching than John Marchmont; but in +this affection for his motherless child he was a very Pagan. He set up +an idol for himself, and bowed down before it. Doubtful and fearful of +the future, he looked hopelessly forward. He _could_ not trust his +orphan child into the hands of God; and drop away himself into the +fathomless darkness, serene in the belief that she would be cared for +and protected. No; he could not trust. He could be faithful for +himself; simple and confiding as a child; but not for her. He saw the +gloomy rocks louring black in the distance; the pitiless waves beating +far away yonder, impatient to devour the frail boat that was so soon to +be left alone upon the waters. In the thick darkness of the future he +could see no ray of light, except one,--a new hope that had lately +risen in his mind; the hope of winning some noble and perfect woman to +be the future friend of his daughter. + +The days were past in which, in his simplicity, he had looked to Edward +Arundel as the future shelter of his child. The generous boy had grown +into a stylish young man, a soldier, whose duty lay far away from +Marchmont Towers. No; it was to a good woman's guardianship the father +must leave his child. + +Thus the very intensity of his love was the one motive which led John +Marchmont to contemplate the step that Mary thought such a cruel and +bitter wrong to her. + + * * * * * + +It was not till long after the dinner-party at Marchmont Towers that +these ideas resolved themselves into any positive form, and that John +began to think that for his daughter's sake he might be led to +contemplate a second marriage. Edward Arundel had spoken the truth when +he told his cousin that John Marchmont had repeatedly mentioned her +name; but the careless and impulsive young man had been utterly unable +to fathom the feeling lurking in his friend's mind. It was not Olivia +Arundel's handsome face which had won John's admiration; it was the +constant reiteration of her praises upon every side which had led him +to believe that this woman, of all others, was the one whom he would do +well to win for his child's friend and guardian in the dark days that +were to come. + +The knowledge that Olivia's intellect was of no common order, together +with the somewhat imperious dignity of her manner, strengthened this +belief in John Marchmont's mind. It was not a good woman only whom he +must seek in the friend he needed for his child; it was a woman +powerful enough to shield her in the lonely path she would have to +tread; a woman strong enough to help her, perhaps, by-and-by to do +battle with Paul Marchmont. + +So, in the blind paganism of his love, John refused to trust his child +into the hands of Providence, and chose for himself a friend and +guardian who should shelter his darling. He made his choice with so +much deliberation, and after such long nights and days of earnest +thought, that he may be forgiven if he believed he had chosen wisely. + +Thus it was that in the dark November days, while Edward and Mary +played chess by the wide fireplace in the western drawing-room, or ball +in the newly-erected tennis-court, John Marchmont sat in his study +examining his papers, and calculating the amount of money at his own +disposal, in serious contemplation of a second marriage. + +Did he love Olivia Arundel? No. He admired her and respected her, and +he firmly believed her to be the most perfect of women. No impulse of +affection had prompted the step he contemplated taking. He had loved +his first wife truly and tenderly; but he had never suffered very +acutely from any of those torturing emotions which form the several +stages of the great tragedy called Love. + +But had he ever thought of the likelihood of his deliberate offer being +rejected by the young lady who had been the object of such careful +consideration? Yes; he had thought of this, and was prepared to abide +the issue. He should, at least, have tried his uttermost to secure a +friend for his darling. + +With such unloverlike feelings as these the owner of Marchmont Towers +drove into Swampington one morning, deliberately bent upon offering +Olivia Arundel his hand. He had consulted with his land-steward, and +with Messrs. Paulette, and had ascertained how far he could endow his +bride with the goods of this world. It was not much that he could give +her, for the estate was strictly entailed; but there would be his own +savings for the brief term of his life, and if he lived only a few +years these savings might accumulate to a considerable amount, so +limited were the expenses of the quiet Lincolnshire household; and +there was a sum of money, something over nine thousand pounds, left him +by Philip Marchmont, senior. He had something, then, to offer to the +woman he sought to make his wife; and, above all, he had a supreme +belief in Olivia Arundel's utter disinterestedness. He had seen her +frequently since the dinner-party, and had always seen her the +same,--grave, reserved, dignified; patiently employed in the strict +performance of her duty. + +He found Miss Arundel sitting in her father's study, busily cutting out +coarse garments for her poor. A newly-written sermon lay open on the +table. Had Mr. Marchmont looked closely at the manuscript, he would +have seen that the ink was wet, and that the writing was Olivia's. It +was a relief to this strange woman to write sermons sometimes--fierce +denunciatory protests against the inherent wickedness of the human +heart. Can you imagine a woman with a wicked heart steadfastly trying +to do good, and to be good? It is a dark and horrible picture; but it +is the only true picture of the woman whom John Marchmont sought to win +for his wife. + +The interview between Mary's father and Olivia Arundel was not a very +sentimental one; but it was certainly the very reverse of commonplace. +John was too simple-hearted to disguise the purpose of his wooing. He +pleaded, not for a wife for himself, but a mother for his orphan child. +He talked of Mary's helplessness in the future, not of his own love in +the present. Carried away by the egotism of his one affection, he let +his motives appear in all their nakedness. He spoke long and earnestly; +he spoke until the blinding tears in his eyes made the face of her he +looked at seem blotted and dim. + +Miss Arundel watched him as he pleaded; sternly, unflinchingly. But she +uttered no word until he had finished; and then, rising suddenly, with +a dusky flush upon her face, she began to pace up and down the narrow +room. She had forgotten John Marchmont. In the strength and vigour of +her intellect, this weak-minded widower, whose one passion was a +pitiful love for his child, appeared to her so utterly insignificant, +that for a few moments she had forgotten his presence in that room--his +very existence, perhaps. She turned to him presently, and looked him +full in the face. + +"You do not love me, Mr. Marchmont?" she said. + +"Pardon me," John stammered; "believe me, Miss Arundel, I respect, I +esteem you so much, that--" + +"That you choose me as a fitting friend for your child. I understand. I +am not the sort of woman to be loved. I have long comprehended that. My +cousin Edward Arundel has often taken the trouble to tell me as much. +And you wish me to be your wife in order that you may have a guardian +for your child? It is very much the same thing as engaging a governess; +only the engagement is to be more binding." + +"Miss Arundel," exclaimed John Marchmont, "forgive me! You +misunderstand me; indeed you do. Had I thought that I could have +offended you--" + +"I am not offended. You have spoken the truth where another man would +have told a lie. I ought to be flattered by your confidence in me. It +pleases me that people should think me good, and worthy of their +trust." + +She broke into a sigh as she finished speaking. + +"And you will not reject my appeal?" + +"I scarcely know what to do," answered Olivia, pressing her hand to her +forehead. + +She leaned against the angle of the deep casement window, looking out +at the garden, desolate and neglected in the bleak winter weather. She +was silent for some minutes. John Marchmont did not interrupt her; he +was content to wait patiently until she should choose to speak. + +"Mr. Marchmont," she said at last, turning upon poor John with an +abrupt vehemence that almost startled him, "I am three-and-twenty; and +in the long, dull memory of the three-and-twenty years that have made +my life, I cannot look back upon one joy--no, so help me Heaven, not +one!" she cried passionately. "No prisoner in the Bastille, shut in a +cell below the level of the Seine, and making companions of rats and +spiders in his misery, ever led a life more hopelessly narrow, more +pitifully circumscribed, than mine has been. These grass-grown streets +have made the boundary of my existence. The flat fenny country round me +is not flatter or more dismal than my life. You will say that I should +take an interest in the duties which I do; and that they should be +enough for me. Heaven knows I have tried to do so; but my life is hard. +Do you think there has been nothing in all this to warp my nature? Do +you think after hearing this, that I am the woman to be a second mother +to your child?" + +She sat down as she finished speaking, and her hands dropped listlessly +in her lap. The unquiet spirit raging in her breast had been stronger +than herself, and had spoken. She had lifted the dull veil through +which the outer world beheld her, and had showed John Marchmont her +natural face. + +"I think you are a good woman, Miss Arundel," he said earnestly. "If I +had thought otherwise, I should not have come here to-day. I want a +good woman to be kind to my child; kind to her when I am dead and +gone," he added, in a lower voice. + +Olivia Arundel sat silent and motionless, looking straight before her +out into the black dulness of the garden. She was trying to think out +the dark problem of her life. + +Strange as it may seem, there was a certain fascination for her in John +Marchmont's offer. He offered her something, no matter what; it would +be a change. She had compared herself to a prisoner in the Bastille; +and I think she felt very much as such a prisoner might have felt upon +his gaoler's offering to remove him to Vincennes. The new prison might +be worse than the old one, perhaps; but it would be different. Life at +Marchmont Towers might be more monotonous, more desolate, than at +Swampington; but it would be a new monotony, another desolation. Have +you never felt, when suffering the hideous throes of toothache, that it +would be a relief to have the earache or the rheumatism; that variety +even in torture would be agreeable? + +Then, again, Olivia Arundel, though unblest with many of the charms of +womanhood, was not entirely without its weaknesses. To marry John +Marchmont would be to avenge herself upon Edward Arundel. Alas! she +forgot how impossible it is to inflict a dagger-thrust upon him who is +guarded by the impenetrable armour of indifference. She saw herself the +mistress of Marchmont Towers, waited upon by liveried servants, +courted, not patronised by the country gentry; avenged upon the +mercenary aunt who had slighted her, who had bade her go out and get +her living as a nursery governess. She saw this; and all that was +ignoble in her nature arose, and urged her to snatch the chance offered +her--the one chance of lifting herself out of the horrible obscurity of +her life. The ambition which might have made her an empress lowered its +crest, and cried, "Take this; at least it is something." But, through +all, the better voices which she had enlisted to do battle with the +natural voice of her soul cried, "This is a temptation of the devil; +put it away from thee." + +But this temptation came to her at the very moment when her life had +become most intolerable; too intolerable to be borne, she thought. She +knew now, fatally, certainly, that Edward Arundel did not love her; +that the one only day-dream she had ever made for herself had been a +snare and a delusion. The radiance of that foolish dream had been the +single light of her life. That taken away from her, the darkness was +blacker than the blackness of death; more horrible than the obscurity +of the grave. + +In all the future she had not one hope: no, not one. She had loved +Edward Arundel with all the strength of her soul; she had wasted a +world of intellect and passion upon this bright-haired boy. This +foolish, grovelling madness had been the blight of her life. But for +this, she might have grown out of her natural self by force of her +conscientious desire to do right; and might have become, indeed, a good +and perfect woman. If her life had been a wider one, this wasted love +would, perhaps, have shrunk into its proper insignificance; she would +have loved, and suffered, and recovered; as so many of us recover from +this common epidemic. But all the volcanic forces of an impetuous +nature, concentrated into one narrow focus, wasted themselves upon this +one feeling, until that which should have been a sentiment became a +madness. + +To think that in some far-away future time she might cease to love +Edward Arundel, and learn to love somebody else, would have seemed +about as reasonable to Olivia as to hope that she could have new legs +and arms in that distant period. She could cut away this fatal passion +with a desperate stroke, it may be, just as she could cut off her arm; +but to believe that a new love would grow in its place was quite as +absurd as to believe in the growing of a new arm. Some cork monstrosity +might replace the amputated limb; some sham and simulated affection +might succeed the old love. + +Olivia Arundel thought of all these things, in about ten minutes by the +little skeleton clock upon the mantel-piece, and while John Marchmont +fidgeted rather nervously, with a pair of gloves in the crown of his +hat, and waited for some definite answer to his appeal. Her mind came +back at last, after all its passionate wanderings, to the rigid channel +she had so laboriously worn for it,--the narrow groove of duty. Her +first words testified this. + +"If I accept this responsibility, I will perform it faithfully," she +said, rather to herself than to Mr. Marchmont. + +"I am sure you will, Miss Arundel," John answered eagerly; "I am sure +you will. You mean to undertake it, then? you mean to consider my +offer? May I speak to your father? may I tell him that I have spoken to +you? may I say that you have given me a hope of your ultimate consent?" + +"Yes, yes," Olivia said, rather impatiently; "speak to my father; tell +him anything you please. Let him decide for me; it is my duty to obey +him." + +There was a terrible cowardice in this. Olivia Arundel shrank from +marrying a man she did not love, prompted by no better desire than the +mad wish to wrench herself away from her hated life. She wanted to +fling the burden of responsibility in this matter away from her. Let +another decide, let another urge her to do this wrong; and let the +wrong be called a sacrifice. + +So for the first time she set to work deliberately to cheat her own +conscience. For the first time she put a false mark upon the standard +she had made for the measurement of her moral progress. + +She sank into a crouching attitude on a low stool by the fire-place, in +utter prostration of body and mind, when John Marchmont had left her. +She let her weary head fall heavily against the carved oaken shaft that +supported the old-fashioned mantel-piece, heedless that her brow struck +sharply against the corner of the wood-work. + +If she could have died then, with no more sinful secret than a woman's +natural weakness hidden in her breast; if she could have died then, +while yet the first step upon the dark pathway of her life was +untrodden,--how happy for herself, how happy for others! How miserable +a record of sin and suffering might have remained unwritten in the +history of woman's life! + + * * * * * + +She sat long in the same attitude. Once, and once only, two solitary +tears gathered in her eyes, and rolled slowly down her pale cheeks. + +"Will you be sorry when I am married, Edward Arundel?" she murmured; +"will you be sorry?" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +"WHEN SHALL I CEASE TO BE ALL ALONE?" + + +Hubert Arundel was not so much surprised as might have been anticipated +at the proposal made him by his wealthy neighbour. Edward had prepared +his uncle for the possibility of such a proposal by sundry jocose +allusions and arch hints upon the subject of John Marchmont's +admiration for Olivia. The frank and rather frivolous young man thought +it was his cousin's handsome face that had captivated the master of +Marchmont Towers, and was quite unable to fathom the hidden motive +underlying all John's talk about Miss Arundel. + +The Rector of Swampington, being a simple-hearted and not very +far-seeing man, thanked God heartily for the chance that had befallen +his daughter. She would be well off and well cared for, then, by the +mercy of Providence, in spite of his own shortcomings, which had left +her with no better provision for the future than a pitiful Policy of +Assurance upon her father's life. She would be well provided for +henceforward, and would live in a handsome house; and all those noble +qualities which had been dwarfed and crippled in a narrow sphere would +now expand, and display themselves in unlooked-for grandeur. + +"People have called her a good girl," he thought; "but how could they +ever know her goodness, unless they had seen, as I have, the +deprivations she has borne so uncomplainingly?" + +John Marchmont, being newly instructed by his lawyer, was able to give +Mr. Arundel a very clear statement of the provision he could make for +his wife's future. He could settle upon her the nine thousand pounds +left him by Philip Marchmont. He would allow her five hundred a year +pin-money during his lifetime; he would leave her his savings at his +death; and he would effect an insurance upon his life for her benefit. +The amount of these savings would, of course, depend upon the length of +John's life; but the money would accumulate very quickly, as his income +was eleven thousand a year, and his expenditure was not likely to +exceed three. + +The Swampington living was worth little more than three hundred and +fifty pounds a year; and out of that sum Hubert Arundel and his +daughter had done treble as much good for the numerous poor of the +parish as ever had been achieved by any previous Rector or his family. +Hubert and his daughter had patiently endured the most grinding +poverty, the burden ever falling heavier on Olivia, who had the heroic +faculty of endurance as regards all physical discomfort. Can it be +wondered, then, that the Rector of Swampington thought the prospect +offered to his child a very brilliant one? Can it be wondered that he +urged his daughter to accept this altered lot? + +He did urge her, pleading John Marchmont's cause a great deal more +warmly than the widower had himself pleaded. + +"My darling," he said, "my darling girl! if I can live to see you +mistress of Marchmont Towers, I shall go to my grave contented and +happy. Think, my dear, of the misery from which this marriage will save +you. Oh, my dear girl, I can tell you now what I never dared tell you +before; I can tell you of the long, sleepless nights I have passed +thinking of you, and of the wicked wrongs I have done you. Not wilful +wrongs, my love," the Rector added, with the tears gathering in his +eyes; "for you know how dearly I have always loved you. But a father's +responsibility towards his children is a very heavy burden. I have only +looked at it in this light lately, my dear,--now that I've let the time +slip by, and it is too late to redeem the past. I've suffered very +much, Olivia; and all this has seemed to separate us, somehow. But +that's past now, isn't it, my dear? and you'll marry this Mr. +Marchmont. He appears to be a very good, conscientious man, and I think +he'll make you happy." + +The father and daughter were sitting together after dinner in the dusky +November twilight, the room only lighted by the fire, which was low and +dim. Hubert Arundel could not see his daughter's face as he talked to +her; he could only see the black outline of her figure sharply defined +against the grey window behind her, as she sat opposite to him. He +could see by her attitude that she was listening to him, with her head +drooping and her hands lying idle in her lap. + +She was silent for some little time after he had finished speaking; so +silent that he feared his words might have touched her too painfully, +and that she was crying. + +Heaven help this simple-hearted father! She had scarcely heard three +consecutive words that he had spoken, but had only gathered dimly from +his speech that he wanted her to accept John Marchmont's offer. + +Every great passion is a supreme egotism. It is not the object which we +hug so determinedly; it is not the object which coils itself about our +weak hearts: it is our own madness we worship and cleave to, our own +pitiable folly which we refuse to put away from us. What is Bill Sykes' +broken nose or bull-dog visage to Nancy? The creature she loves and +will not part from is not Bill, but her own love for Bill,--the one +delusion of a barren life; the one grand selfishness of a feeble +nature. + +Olivia Arundel's thoughts had wandered far away while her father had +spoken so piteously to her. She had been thinking of her cousin Edward, +and had been asking herself the same question over and over again. +Would he be sorry? would he be sorry if she married John Marchmont? + +But she understood presently that her father was waiting for her to +speak; and, rising from her chair, she went towards him, and laid her +hand upon his shoulder. + +"I am afraid I have not done my duty to you, papa," she said. + +Latterly she had been for ever harping upon this one theme,--her duty! +That word was the keynote of her life; and her existence had latterly +seemed to her so inharmonious, that it was scarcely strange she should +repeatedly strike that leading note in the scale. + +"My darling," cried Mr. Arundel, "you have been all that is good!" + +"No, no, papa; I have been cold, reserved, silent." + +"A little silent, my dear," the Rector answered meekly; "but you have +not been happy. I have watched you, my love, and I know you have not +been happy. But that is not strange. This place is so dull, and your +life has been so fatiguing. How different that would all be at +Marchmont Towers!" + +"You wish me to many Mr. Marchmont, then, papa?" + +"I do, indeed, my love. For your own sake, of course," the Rector added +deprecatingly. + +"You really wish it?" + +"Very, very much, my dear." + +"Then I will marry him, papa." + +She took her hand from the Rector's shoulder, and walked away from him +to the uncurtained window, against which she stood with her back to her +father, looking out into the grey obscurity. + +I have said that Hubert Arundel was not a very clever or far-seeing +person; but he vaguely felt that this was not exactly the way in which +a brilliant offer of marriage should be accepted by a young lady who +was entirely fancy-free, and he had an uncomfortable apprehension that +there was something hidden under his daughter's quiet manner. + +"But, my dear Olivia," he said nervously, "you must not for a moment +suppose that I would force you into this marriage, if it is in any way +repugnant to yourself. You--you may have formed some prior +attachment--or, there may be somebody who loves you, and has loved you +longer than Mr. Marchmont, who--" + +His daughter turned upon him sharply as he rambled on. + +"Somebody who loves me!" she echoed. "What have you ever seen that +should make you think any one loved me?" + +The harshness of her tone jarred upon Mr. Arundel, and made him still +more nervous. + +"My love, I beg your pardon, I have seen nothing. I--" + +"Nobody loves me, or has ever loved me,--but you," resumed Olivia, +taking no heed of her father's feeble interruption. "I am not the sort +of woman to be loved; I feel and know that. I have an aquiline nose, +and a clear skin, and dark eyes, and people call me handsome; but +nobody loves me, or ever will, so long as I live." + +"But Mr. Marchmont, my dear,--surely he loves and admires you?" +remonstrated the Rector. + +"Mr. Marchmont wants a governess and _chaperone_ for his daughter, and +thinks me a suitable person to fill such a post; that is all the _love_ +Mr. Marchmont has for me. No, papa; there is no reason I should shrink +from this marriage. There is no one who will be sorry for it; no one! I +am asked to perform a duty towards this little girl, and I am prepared +to perform it faithfully. That is my part of the bargain. Do I commit a +sin in marrying John Marchmont in this spirit, papa?" + +She asked the question eagerly, almost breathlessly; as if her decision +depended upon her father's answer. + +"A sin, my dear! How can you ask such a question?" + +"Very well, then; if I commit no sin in accepting this offer, I will +accept it." + +It was thus Olivia paltered with her conscience, holding back half the +truth. The question she should have asked was this, "Do I commit a sin +in marrying one man, while my heart is racked by a mad passion for +another?" + +Miss Arundel could not visit her poor upon the day after this interview +with her father. Her monotonous round of duty seemed more than ever +abhorrent to her. She wandered across the dreary marshes, down by the +lonely seashore, in the grey November fog. + +She stood for a long time, shivering with the cold dampness of the +atmosphere, but not even conscious that she was cold, looking at a +dilapidated boat that lay upon the rugged beach. The waters before her +and the land behind her were hidden by a dense veil of mist. It seemed +as if she stood alone in the world,--utterly isolated, utterly +forgotten. + +"O my God!" she murmured, "if this boat at my feet could drift me away +to some desert island, I could never be more desolate than I am, +amongst the people who do not love me." + +Dim lights in distant windows were gleaming across the flats when she +returned to Swampington, to find her father sitting alone and +dispirited at his frugal dinner. Miss Arundel took her place quietly at +the bottom of the table, no trace of emotion upon her face. + +"I am sorry I stayed out so long, papa" she said; "I had no idea it was +so late." + +"Never mind, my dear, I know you have always enough to occupy you. Mr. +Marchmont called while you were out. He seemed very anxious to hear +your decision, and was delighted when he found that it was favourable +to himself." + +Olivia dropped her knife and fork, and rose from her chair suddenly, +with a strange look, which was almost terror, in her face. + +"It is quite decided, then?" she said. + +"Yes, my love. But you are not sorry, are you?" + +"Sorry! No; I am glad." + +She sank back into her chair with a sigh of relief. She _was_ glad. The +prospect of this strange marriage offered a relief from the horrible +oppression of her life. + +"Henceforward to think of Edward Arundel will be a sin," she thought. +"I have not won another man's love; but I shall be another man's wife." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +MARY'S STEPMOTHER. + + +Perhaps there was never a quieter courtship than that which followed +Olivia's acceptance of John Marchmont's offer. There had been no +pretence of sentiment on either side; yet I doubt if John had been much +more sentimental during his early love-making days, though he had very +tenderly and truly loved his first wife. There were few sparks of the +romantic or emotional fire in his placid nature. His love for his +daughter, though it absorbed his whole being, was a silent and +undemonstrative affection; a thoughtful and almost fearful devotion, +which took the form of intense but hidden anxiety for his child's +future, rather than any outward show of tenderness. + +Had his love been of a more impulsive and demonstrative character, he +would scarcely have thought of taking such a step as that he now +contemplated, without first ascertaining whether it would be agreeable +to his daughter. + +But he never for a moment dreamt of consulting Mary's will upon this +important matter. He looked with fearful glances towards the dim +future, and saw his darling, a lonely figure upon a barren landscape, +beset by enemies eager to devour her; and he snatched at this one +chance of securing her a protectress, who would be bound to her by a +legal as well as a moral tie; for John Marchmont meant to appoint his +second wife the guardian of his child. He thought only of this; and he +hurried on his suit at the Rectory, fearful lest death should come +between him and his loveless bride, and thus deprive his darling of a +second mother. + +This was the history of John Marchmont's marriage. It was not till a +week before the day appointed for the wedding that he told his daughter +what he was about to do. Edward Arundel knew the secret, but he had +been warned not to reveal it to Mary. + +The father and daughter sat together late one evening in the first week +of December, in the great western drawing-room. Edward had gone to a +party at Swampington, and was to sleep at the Rectory; so Mary and her +father were alone. + +It was nearly eleven o'clock; but Miss Marchmont had insisted upon +sitting up until her father should retire to rest. She had always sat +up in Oakley Street, she had remonstrated, though she was much younger +then. She sat on a velvet-covered hassock at her father's feet, with +her loose hair falling over his knee, as her head lay there in loving +abandonment. She was not talking to him; for neither John nor Mary were +great talkers; but she was with him--that was quite enough. + +Mr. Marchmont's thin fingers twined themselves listlessly in and out of +the fair curls upon his knee. Mary was thinking of Edward and the party +at Swampington. Would he enjoy himself very, very much? Would he be +sorry that she was not there? It was a grown-up party, and she wasn't +old enough for grown-up parties yet. Would the pretty girls in blue be +there? and would he dance with them? + +Her father's face was clouded by a troubled expression, as he looked +absently at the red embers in the low fireplace. He spoke presently, +but his observation was a very commonplace one. The opening speeches of +a tragedy are seldom remarkable for any ominous or solemn meaning. Two +gentlemen meet each other in a street very near the footlights, and +converse rather flippantly about the aspect of affairs in general; +there is no hint of bloodshed and agony till we get deeper into the +play. + +So Mr. Marchmont, bent upon making rather an important communication to +his daughter, and for the first time feeling very fearful as to how she +would take it, began thus: + +"You really ought to go to bed earlier, Polly dear; you've been looking +very pale lately, and I know such hours as these must be bad for you." + +"Oh, no, papa dear," cried the young lady; "I'm always pale; that's +natural to me. Sitting up late doesn't hurt me, papa. It never did in +Oakley Street, you know." + +John Marchmont shook his head sadly. + +"I don't know that," he said. "My darling had to suffer many evils +through her father's poverty. If you had some one who loved you, dear, +a lady, you know,--for a man does not understand these sort of +things,--your health would be looked after more carefully, +and--and--your education--and--in short, you would be altogether +happier; wouldn't you, Polly darling?" + +He asked the question in an almost piteously appealing tone. A terrible +fear was beginning to take possession of him. His daughter might be +grieved at this second marriage. The very step which he had taken for +her happiness might cause her loving nature pain and sorrow. In the +utter cowardice of his affection he trembled at the thought of causing +his darling any distress in the present, even for her own +welfare,--even for her future good; and he _knew_ that the step he was +about to take would secure that. Mary started from her reclining +position, and looked up into her father's face. + +"You're not going to engage a governess for me, papa?" she cried +eagerly. "Oh, please don't. We are so much better as it is. A governess +would keep me away from you, papa; I know she would. The Miss Llandels, +at Impley Grange, have a governess; and they only come down to dessert +for half an hour, or go out for a drive sometimes, so that they very +seldom see their papa. Lucy told me so; and they said they'd give the +world to be always with their papa, as I am with you. Oh, pray, pray, +papa darling, don't let me have a governess." + +The tears were in her eyes as she pleaded to him. The sight of those +tears made him terribly nervous. + +"My own dear Polly," he said, "I'm not going to engage a governess. +I--; Polly, Polly dear, you must be reasonable. You mustn't grieve your +poor father. You are old enough to understand these things now, dear. +You know what the doctors have said. I may die, Polly, and leave you +alone in the world." + +She clung closely to her father, and looked up, pale and trembling, as +she answered him. + +"When you die, papa, I shall die too. I could never, never live without +you." + +"Yes, yes, my darling, you would. You will live to lead a happy life, +please God, and a safe one; but if I die, and leave you very young, +very inexperienced, and innocent, as I may do, my dear, you must not be +without a friend to watch over you, to advise, to protect you. I have +thought of this long and earnestly, Polly; and I believe that what I am +going to do is right." + +"What you are going to do!" Mary cried, repeating her father's words, +and looking at him in sudden terror. "What do you mean, papa? What are +you going to do? Nothing that will part us! O papa, papa, you will +never do anything to part us!" + +"No, Polly darling," answered Mr. Marchmont. "Whatever I do, I do for +your sake, and for that alone. I'm going to be married, my dear." + +Mary burst into a low wail, more pitiful than any ordinary weeping. + +"O papa, papa," she cried, "you never will, you never will!" + +The sound of that piteous voice for a few moments quite unmanned John +Marchmont; but he armed himself with a desperate courage. He determined +not to be influenced by this child to relinquish the purpose which he +believed was to achieve her future welfare. + +"Mary, Mary dear," he said reproachfully, "this is very cruel of you. +Do you think I haven't consulted your happiness before my own? Do you +think I shall love you less because I take this step for your sake? You +are very cruel to me, Mary." + +The little girl rose from her kneeling attitude, and stood before her +father, with the tears streaming down her white cheeks, but with a +certain air of resolution about her. She had been a child for a few +moments; a child, with no power to look beyond the sudden pang of that +new sorrow which had come to her. She was a woman now, able to rise +superior to her sorrow in the strength of her womanhood. + +"I won't be cruel, papa," she said; "I was selfish and wicked to talk +like that. If it will make you happy to have another wife, papa, I'll +not be sorry. No, I won't be sorry, even if your new wife separates +us--a little." + +"But, my darling," John remonstrated, "I don't mean that she should +separate us at all. I wish you to have a second friend, Polly; some one +who can understand you better than I do, who may love you perhaps +almost as well." Mary Marchmont shook her head; she could not realise +this possibility. "Do you understand me, my dear?" her father continued +earnestly. "I want you to have some one who will be a mother to you; +and I hope--I am sure that Olivia--" + +Mary interrupted him by a sudden exclamation, that was almost like a +cry of pain. + +"Not Miss Arundel!" she said. "O papa, it is not Miss Arundel you're +going to marry!" + +Her father bent his head in assent. + +"What is the matter with you, Mary?" he said, almost fretfully, as he +saw the look of mingled grief and terror in his daughter's face. "You +are really quite unreasonable to-night. If I am to marry at all, who +should I choose for a wife? Who could be better than Olivia Arundel? +Everybody knows how good she is. Everybody talks of her goodness." + +In these two sentences Mr. Marchmont made confession of a fact he had +never himself considered. It was not his own impulse, it was no +instinctive belief in her goodness, that had led him to choose Olivia +Arundel for his wife. He had been influenced solely by the reiterated +opinions of other people. + +"I know she is very good, papa," Mary cried; "but, oh, why, why do you +marry her? Do you love her so very, very much?" + +"Love her!" exclaimed Mr. Marchmont naïvely; "no, Polly dear; you know +I never loved any one but you." + +"Why do you marry her then?" + +"For your sake, Polly; for your sake." + +"But don't then, papa; oh, pray, pray don't. I don't want her. I don't +like her. I could never be happy with her." + +"Mary! Mary!" + +"Yes, I know it's very wicked to say so, but it's true, papa; I never, +never, never could be happy with her. I know she is good, but I don't +like her. If I did anything wrong, I should never expect her to forgive +me for it; I should never expect her to have mercy upon me. Don't marry +her, papa; pray, pray don't marry her." + +"Mary," said Mr. Marchmont resolutely, "this is very wrong of you. I +have given my word, my dear, and I cannot recall it. I believe that I +am acting for the best. You must not be childish now, Mary. You have +been my comfort ever since you were a baby; you mustn't make me unhappy +now." + +Her father's appeal went straight to her heart. Yes, she had been his +help and comfort since her earliest infancy, and she was not unused to +self-sacrifice: why should she fail him now? She had read of martyrs, +patient and holy creatures, to whom suffering was glory; she would be a +martyr, if need were, for his sake. She would stand steadfast amid the +blazing fagots, or walk unflinchingly across the white-hot ploughshare, +for his sake, for his sake. + +"Papa, papa," she cried, flinging herself upon her father's neck, "I +will not make you sorry. I will be good and obedient to Miss Arundel, +if you wish it." + +Mr. Marchmont carried his little girl up to her comfortable bedchamber, +close at hand to his own. She was very calm when she bade him good +night, and she kissed him with a smile upon her face; but all through +the long hours before the late winter morning Mary Marchmont lay awake, +weeping silently and incessantly in her new sorrow; and all through the +same weary hours the master of that noble Lincolnshire mansion slept a +fitful and troubled slumber, rendered hideous by confused and horrible +dreams, in which the black shadow that came between him and his child, +and the cruel hand that thrust him for ever from his darling, were +Olivia Arundel's. + +But the morning light brought relief to John Marchmont and his child. +Mary arose with the determination to submit patiently to her father's +choice, and to conceal from him all traces of her foolish and +unreasoning sorrow. John awoke from troubled dreams to believe in the +wisdom of the step he had taken, and to take comfort from the thought +that in the far-away future his daughter would have reason to thank and +bless him for the choice he had made. + +So the few days before the marriage passed away--miserably short days, +that flitted by with terrible speed; and the last day of all was made +still more dismal by the departure of Edward Arundel, who left +Marchmont Towers to go to Dangerfield Park, whence he was most likely +to start once more for India. + +Mary felt that her narrow world of love was indeed crumbling away from +her. Edward was lost, and to-morrow her father would belong to another. +Mr. Marchmont dined at the Rectory upon that last evening; for there +were settlements to be signed, and other matters to be arranged; and +Mary was alone--quite alone--weeping over her lost happiness. + +"This would never have happened," she thought, "if we hadn't come to +Marchmont Towers. I wish papa had never had the fortune; we were so +happy in Oakley Street,--so very happy. I wouldn't mind a bit being +poor again, if I could be always with papa." + +Mr. Marchmont had not been able to make himself quite comfortable in +his mind, after that unpleasant interview with his daughter in which he +had broken to her the news of his approaching marriage. Argue with +himself as he might upon the advisability of the step he was about to +take, he could not argue away the fact that he had grieved the child he +loved so intensely. He could not blot away from his memory the pitiful +aspect of her terror-stricken face as she had turned it towards him +when he uttered the name of Olivia Arundel. + +No; he had grieved and distressed her. The future might reconcile her +to that grief, perhaps, as a bygone sorrow which she had been allowed +to suffer for her own ultimate advantage. But the future was a long way +off: and in the meantime there was Mary's altered face, calm and +resigned, but bearing upon it a settled look of sorrow, very close at +hand; and John Marchmont could not be otherwise than unhappy in the +knowledge of his darling's grief. + +I do not believe that any man or woman is ever suffered to take a fatal +step upon the roadway of life without receiving ample warning by the +way. The stumbling-blocks are placed in the fatal path by a merciful +hand; but we insist upon clambering over them, and surmounting them in +our blind obstinacy, to reach that shadowy something beyond, which we +have in our ignorance appointed to be our goal. A thousand ominous +whispers in his own breast warned John Marchmont that the step he +considered so wise was not a wise one: and yet, in spite of all these +subtle warnings, in spite of the ever-present reproach of his +daughter's altered face, this man, who was too weak to trust blindly in +his God, went on persistently upon his way, trusting, with a thousand +times more fatal blindness, in his own wisdom. + +He could not be content to confide his darling and her altered fortunes +to the Providence which had watched over her in her poverty, and +sheltered her from every harm. He could not trust his child to the +mercy of God; but he cast her upon the love of Olivia Arundel. + +A new life began for Mary Marchmont after the quiet wedding at +Swampington Church. The bride and bridegroom went upon a brief +honeymoon excursion far away amongst snow-clad Scottish mountains and +frozen streams, upon whose bloomless margins poor John shivered +dismally. I fear that Mr. Marchmont, having been, by the hard pressure +of poverty, compelled to lead a Cockney life for the better half of his +existence, had but slight relish for the grand and sublime in nature. I +do not think he looked at the ruined walls which had once sheltered +Macbeth and his strong-minded partner with all the enthusiasm which +might have been expected of him. He had but one idea about Macbeth, and +he was rather glad to get out of the neighbourhood associated with the +warlike Thane; for his memories of the past presented King Duncan's +murderer as a very stern and uncompromising gentleman, who was utterly +intolerant of banners held awry, or turned with the blank and ignoble +side towards the audience, and who objected vehemently to a violent fit +of coughing on the part of any one of his guests during the blank +barmecide feast of pasteboard and Dutch metal with which he was wont to +entertain them. No; John Marchmont had had quite enough of Macbeth, and +rather wondered at the hot enthusiasm of other red-nosed tourists, +apparently indifferent to the frosty weather. + +I fear that the master of Marchmont Towers would have preferred Oakley +Street, Lambeth, to Princes Street, Edinburgh; for the nipping and +eager airs of the Modern Athens nearly blew him across the gulf between +the new town and the old. A visit to the Calton Hill produced an attack +of that chronic cough which had so severely tormented the weak-kneed +supernumerary in the draughty corridors of Drury Lane. Melrose and +Abbotsford fatigued this poor feeble tourist; he tried to be interested +in the stereotyped round of associations beloved by other travellers, +but he had a weary craving for rest, which was stronger than any +hero-worship; and he discovered, before long, that he had done a very +foolish thing in coming to Scotland in December and January, without +having consulted his physician as to the propriety of such a step. + +But above all personal inconvenience, above all personal suffering, +there was one feeling ever present in his heart--a sick yearning for +the little girl he had left behind him; a mournful longing to be back +with his child. Already Mary's sad forebodings had been in some way +realised; already his new wife had separated him, unintentionally of +course, from his daughter. The aches and pains he endured in the bleak +Scottish atmosphere reminded him only too forcibly of the warnings he +had received from his physicians. He was seized with a panic, almost, +when he remembered his own imprudence. What if he had needlessly +curtailed the short span of his life? What if he were to die +soon--before Olivia had learned to love her stepdaughter; before Mary +had grown affectionately familiar with her new guardian? Again and +again he appealed to his wife, imploring her to be tender to the orphan +child, if he should be snatched away suddenly. + +"I know you will love her by-and-by, Olivia," he said; "as much as I +do, perhaps; for you will discover how good she is, how patient and +unselfish. But just at first, and before you know her very well, you +will be kind to her, won't you, Olivia? She has been used to great +indulgence; she has been spoiled, perhaps; but you'll remember all +that, and be very kind to her?" + +"I will try and do my duty," Mrs. Marchmont answered. "I pray that I +never may do less." + +There was no tender yearning in Olivia Marchmont's heart towards the +motherless girl. She herself felt that such a sentiment was wanting, +and comprehended that it should have been there. She would have loved +her stepdaughter in those early days, if she could have done so; but +_she could not_--she could not. All that was tender or womanly in her +nature had been wasted upon her hopeless love for Edward Arundel. The +utter wreck of that small freight of affection had left her nature +warped and stunted, soured, disappointed, unwomanly. + +How was she to love this child, this hazel-haired, dove-eyed girl, +before whom woman's life, with all its natural wealth of affection, +stretched far away, a bright and fairy vista? How was _she_ to love +her,--she, whose black future was unchequered by one ray of light; who +stood, dissevered from the past, alone in the dismal, dreamless +monotony of the present? + +"No" she thought; "beggars and princes can never love one another. When +this girl and I are equals,--when she, like me, stands alone upon a +barren rock, far out amid the waste of waters, with not one memory to +hold her to the past, with not one hope to lure her onward to the +future, with nothing but the black sky above and the black waters +around,--_then_ we may grow fond of each other." + +But always more or less steadfast to the standard she had set up for +herself, Olivia Marchmont intended to do her duty to her stepdaughter. +She had not failed in other duties, though no glimmer of love had +brightened them, no natural affection had made them pleasant. Why +should she fail in this? + +If this belief in her own power should appear to be somewhat arrogant, +let it be remembered that she had set herself hard tasks before now, +and had performed them. Would the new furnace through which she was to +pass be more terrible than the old fires? She had gone to God's altar +with a man for whom she had no more love than she felt for the lowest +or most insignificant of the miserable sinners in her father's flock. +She had sworn to honour and obey him, meaning at least faithfully to +perform that portion of her vow; and on the night before her loveless +bridal she had grovelled, white, writhing, mad, and desperate, upon the +ground, and had plucked out of her lacerated heart her hopeless love +for another man. + +Yes; she had done this. Another woman might have spent that bridal eve +in vain tears and lamentations, in feeble prayers, and such weak +struggles as might have been evidenced by the destruction of a few +letters, a tress of hair, some fragile foolish tokens of a wasted love. +She would have burnt five out of six letters, perhaps, that helpless, +ordinary sinner, and would have kept the sixth, to hoard away hidden +among her matrimonial trousseau; she would have thrown away +fifteen-sixteenths of that tress of hair, and would have kept the +sixteenth portion,--one delicate curl of gold, slender as the thread by +which her shattered hopes had hung,--to be wept over and kissed in the +days that were to come. An ordinary woman would have played fast and +loose with love and duty; and so would have been true to neither. + +But Olivia Arundel did none of these things. She battled with her +weakness as St George battled with the fiery dragon. She plucked the +rooted serpent from her heart, reckless as to how much of that +desperate heart was to be wrenched away with its roots. A cowardly +woman would have killed herself, perhaps, rather than endure this +mortal agony. Olivia Arundel killed more than herself; she killed the +passion that had become stronger than herself. + +"Alone she did it;" unaided by any human sympathy or compassion, +unsupported by any human counsel, not upheld by her God; for the +religion she had made for herself was a hard creed, and the many words +of tender comfort which must have been familiar to her were +unremembered in that long night of anguish. + +It was the Roman's stern endurance, rather than the meek faithfulness +of the Christian, which upheld this unhappy girl under her torture. She +did not do this thing because it pleased her to be obedient to her God. +She did not do it because she believed in the mercy of Him who +inflicted the suffering, and looked forward hopefully, even amid her +passionate grief, to the day when she should better comprehend that +which she now saw so darkly. No; she fought the terrible fight, and she +came forth out of it a conqueror, by reason of her own indomitable +power of suffering, by reason of her own extraordinary strength of +will. + +But she did conquer. If her weapon was the classic sword and not the +Christian cross, she was nevertheless a conqueror. When she stood +before the altar and gave her hand to John Marchmont, Edward Arundel +was dead to her. The fatal habit of looking at him as the one centre of +her narrow life was cured. In all her Scottish wanderings, her thoughts +never once went back to him; though a hundred chance words and +associations tempted her, though a thousand memories assailed her, +though some trick of his face in the faces of other people, though some +tone of his voice in the voices of strangers, perpetually offered to +entrap her. No; she was steadfast. + +Dutiful as a wife as she had been dutiful as a daughter, she bore with +her husband when his feeble health made him a wearisome companion. She +waited upon him when pain made him fretful, and her duties became +little less arduous than those of a hospital nurse. When, at the +bidding of the Scotch physician who had been called in at Edinburgh, +John Marchmont turned homewards, travelling slowly and resting often on +the way, his wife was more devoted to him than his experienced servant, +more watchful than the best-trained sick-nurse. She recoiled from +nothing, she neglected nothing; she gave him full measure of the honour +and obedience which she had promised upon her wedding-day. And when she +reached Marchmont Towers upon a dreary evening in January, she passed +beneath the solemn portal of the western front, carrying in her heart +the full determination to hold as steadfastly to the other half of her +bargain, and to do her duty to her stepchild. + +Mary ran out of the western drawing-room to welcome her father and his +wife. She had cast off her black dresses in honour of Mr. Marchmont's +marriage, and she wore some soft, silken fabric, of a pale shimmering +blue, which contrasted exquisitely with her soft, brown hair, and her +fair, tender face. She uttered a cry of mingled alarm and sorrow when +she saw her father, and perceived the change that had been made in his +looks by the northern journey; but she checked herself at a warning +glance from her stepmother, and bade that dear father welcome, clinging +about him with an almost desperate fondness. She greeted Olivia gently +and respectfully. + +"I will try to be very good, mamma," she said, as she took the passive +hand of the lady who had come to rule at Marchmont Towers. + +"I believe you will, my dear," Olivia answered, kindly. + +She had been startled a little as Mary addressed her by that endearing +corruption of the holy word mother. The child had been so long +motherless, that she felt little of that acute anguish which some +orphans suffer when they have to look up in a strange face and say +"mamma." She had taught herself the lesson of resignation, and she was +prepared to accept this stranger as her new mother, and to look up to +her and obey her henceforward. No thought of her own future position, +as sole owner of that great house and all appertaining to it, ever +crossed Mary Marchmont's mind, womanly as that mind had become in the +sharp experiences of poverty. If her father had told her that he had +cut off the entail, and settled Marchmont Towers upon his new wife, I +think she would have submitted meekly to his will, and would have seen +no injustice in the act. She loved him blindly and confidingly. Indeed, +she could only love after one fashion. The organ of veneration must +have been abnormally developed in Mary Marchmont's head. To believe +that any one she loved was otherwise than perfect, would have been, in +her creed, an infidelity against love. Had any one told her that Edward +Arundel was not eminently qualified for the post of General-in-Chief of +the Army of the Indus; or that her father could by any possible chance +be guilty of a fault or folly: she would have recoiled in horror from +the treasonous slanderer. + +A dangerous quality, perhaps, this quality of guilelessness which +thinketh no evil, which cannot be induced to see the evil under its +very nose. But surely, of all the beautiful and pure things upon this +earth, such blind confidence is the purest and most beautiful. I knew a +lady, dead and gone,--alas for this world, which could ill afford to +lose so good a Christian!--who carried this trustfulness of spirit, +this utter incapacity to believe in wrong, through all the strife and +turmoil of a troubled life, unsullied and unlessened, to her grave. She +was cheated and imposed upon, robbed and lied to, by people who loved +her, perhaps, while they wronged her,--for to know her was to love her. +She was robbed systematically by a confidential servant for years, and +for years refused to believe those who told her of his delinquencies. +She _could_ not believe that people were wicked. To the day of her +death she had faith in the scoundrels and scamps who had profited by +her sweet compassion and untiring benevolence; and indignantly defended +them against those who dared to say that they were anything more than +"unfortunate." To go to her was to go to a never-failing fountain of +love and tenderness. To know her goodness was to understand the +goodness of God; for her love approached the Infinite, and might have +taught a sceptic the possibility of Divinity. Three-score years and ten +of worldly experience left her an accomplished lady, a delightful +companion; but in guilelessness a child. + +So Mary Marchmont, trusting implicitly in those she loved, submitted to +her father's will, and prepared to obey her stepmother. The new life at +the Towers began very peacefully; a perfect harmony reigned in the +quiet household. Olivia took the reins of management with so little +parade, that the old housekeeper, who had long been paramount in the +Lincolnshire mansion, found herself superseded before she knew where +she was. It was Olivia's nature to govern. Her strength of will +asserted itself almost unconsciously. She took possession of Mary +Marchmont as she had taken possession of her school-children at +Swampington, making her own laws for the government of their narrow +intellects. She planned a routine of study that was actually terrible +to the little girl, whose education had hitherto been conducted in a +somewhat slip-slop manner by a weakly-indulgent father. She came +between Mary and her one amusement,--the reading of novels. The +half-bound romances were snatched ruthlessly from this young devourer +of light literature, and sent back to the shabby circulating library at +Swampington. Even the gloomy old oak book-cases in the library at the +Towers, and the Abbotsford edition of the Waverley Novels, were +forbidden to poor Mary; for, though Sir Walter Scott's morality is +irreproachable, it will not do for a young lady to be weeping over Lucy +Ashton or Amy Robsart when she should be consulting her terrestrial +globe, and informing herself as to the latitude and longitude of the +Fiji Islands. + +So a round of dry and dreary lessons began for poor Miss Marchmont, and +her brain grew almost dazed under that continuous and pelting shower of +hard facts which many worthy people consider the one sovereign method +of education. I have said that her mind was far in advance of her +years; Olivia perceived this, and set her tasks in advance of her mind: +in order that the perfection attained by a sort of steeple-chase of +instruction might not be lost to her. If Mary learned difficult lessons +with surprising rapidity, Mrs. Marchmont plied her with even yet more +difficult lessons, thus keeping the spur perpetually in the side of +this heavily-weighted racer on the road to learning. But it must not be +thought that Olivia wilfully tormented or oppressed her stepdaughter. +It was not so. In all this, John Marchmont's second wife implicitly +believed that she was doing her duty to the child committed to her +care. She fully believed that this dreary routine of education was wise +and right, and would be for Mary's ultimate advantage. If she caused +Miss Marchmont to get up at abnormal hours on bleak wintry mornings, +for the purpose of wrestling with a difficult variation by Hertz or +Schubert, she herself rose also, and sat shivering by the piano, +counting the time of the music which her stepdaughter played. + +Whatever pains and trouble she inflicted on Mary, she most +unshrinkingly endured herself. She waded through the dismal slough of +learning side by side with the younger sufferer: Roman emperors, +medieval schisms, early British manufactures, Philippa of Hainault, +Flemish woollen stuffs, Magna Charta, the sidereal heavens, Luther, +Newton, Huss, Galileo, Calvin, Loyola, Sir Robert Walpole, Cardinal +Wolsey, conchology, Arianism in the Early Church, trial by jury, Habeas +Corpus, zoology, Mr. Pitt, the American war, Copernicus, Confucius, +Mahomet, Harvey, Jenner, Lycurgus, and Catherine of Arragon; through a +very diabolical dance of history, science, theology, philosophy, and +instruction of all kinds, did this devoted priestess lead her hapless +victim, struggling onward towards that distant altar at which Pallas +Athenë waited, pale and inscrutable, to receive a new disciple. + +But Olivia Marchmont did not mean to be unmerciful; she meant to be +good to her stepdaughter. She did not love her; but, on the other hand, +she did not dislike her. Her feelings were simply negative. Mary +understood this, and the submissive obedience she rendered to her +stepmother was untempered by affection. So for nearly two years these +two people led a monotonous life, unbroken by any more important event +than a dinner party at Marchmont Towers, or a brief visit to Harrowgate +or Scarborough. + +This monotonous existence was not to go on for ever. The fatal day, so +horribly feared by John Marchmont, was creeping closer and closer. The +sorrow which had been shadowed in every childish dream, in every +childish prayer, came at last; and Mary Marchmont was left an orphan. + +Poor John had never quite recovered the effects of his winter excursion +to Scotland; neither his wife's devoted nursing, nor his physician's +care, could avail for ever; and, late in the autumn of the second year +of his marriage, he sank, slowly and peacefully enough as regards +physical suffering, but not without bitter grief of mind. + +In vain Hubert Arundel talked to him; in vain did he himself pray for +faith and comfort in this dark hour of trial. He _could_ not bear to +leave his child alone in the world. In the foolishness of his love, he +would have trusted in the strength of his own arm to shield her in the +battle; yet he could not trust her hopefully to the arm of God. He +prayed for her night and day during the last week of his illness; while +she was praying passionately, almost madly, that he might be spared to +her, or that she might die with him. Better for her, according to all +mortal reasoning, if she had. Happier for her, a thousand times, if she +could have died as she wished to die, clinging to her father's breast. + +The blow fell at last upon those two loving hearts. These were the +awful shadows of death that shut his child's face from John Marchmont's +fading sight. His feeble arms groped here and there for her in that dim +and awful obscurity. + +Yes, this was death. The narrow tract of yellow sand had little by +little grown narrower and narrower. The dark and cruel waters were +closing in; the feeble boat went down into the darkness: and Mary stood +alone, with her dead father's hand clasped in hers,--the last feeble +link which bound her to the Past,--looking blankly forward to an +unknown Future. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE DAY OF DESOLATION. + + +Yes; the terrible day had come. Mary Marchmont roamed hither and +thither in the big gaunt rooms, up and down the long dreary corridors, +white and ghostlike in her mute anguish, while the undertaker's men +were busy in her father's chamber, and while John's widow sat in the +study below, writing business letters, and making all necessary +arrangements for the funeral. + +In those early days no one attempted to comfort the orphan. There was +something more terrible than the loudest grief in the awful quiet of +the girl's anguish. The wan eyes, looking wearily out of a white +haggard face, that seemed drawn and contracted as if by some hideous +physical torture, were tearless. Except the one long wail of despair +which had burst from her lips in the awful moment of her father's death +agony, no cry of sorrow, no utterance of pain, had given relief to Mary +Marchmont's suffering. + +She suffered, and was still. She shrank away from all human +companionship; she seemed specially to avoid the society of her +stepmother. She locked the door of her room upon all who would have +intruded on her, and flung herself upon the bed, to lie there in a dull +stupor for hour after hour. But when the twilight was grey in the +desolate corridors, the wretched girl wandered out into the gallery on +which her father's room opened, and hovered near that solemn +death-chamber; fearful to go in, fearful to encounter the watchers of +the dead, lest they should torture her by their hackneyed expressions +of sympathy, lest they should agonise her by their commonplace talk of +the lost. + +Once during that brief interval, while the coffin still held terrible +tenancy of the death-chamber, the girl wandered in the dead of the +night, when all but the hired watchers were asleep, to the broad +landing of the oaken staircase, and into a deep recess formed by an +embayed window that opened over the great stone porch which sheltered +the principal entrance to Marchmont Towers. + +The window had been left open; for even in the bleak autumn weather the +atmosphere of the great house seemed hot and oppressive to its living +inmates, whose spirits were weighed down by a vague sense of the Awful +Presence in that Lincolnshire mansion. Mary had wandered to this open +window, scarcely knowing whither she went, after remaining for a long +time on her knees by the threshold of her father's room, with her head +resting against the oaken panel of the door,--not praying; why should +she pray now, unless her prayers could have restored the dead? She had +come out upon the wide staircase, and past the ghostly pictured faces, +that looked grimly down upon her from the oaken wainscot against which +they hung; she had wandered here in the dim grey light--there was light +somewhere in the sky, but only a shadowy and uncertain glimmer of +fading starlight or coming dawn--and she stood now with her head +resting against one of the angles of the massive stonework, looking out +of the open window. + +The morning which was already glimmering dimly in the eastern sky +behind Marchmont Towers was to witness poor John's funeral. For nearly +six days Mary Marchmont had avoided all human companionship: for nearly +six days she had shunned all human sympathy and comfort. During all +that time she had never eaten, except when forced to do so by her +stepmother; who had visited her from time to time, and had insisted +upon sitting by her bedside while she took the food that had been +brought to her. Heaven knows how often the girl had slept during those +six dreary days; but her feverish slumbers had brought her very little +rest or refreshment. They had brought her nothing but cruel dreams, in +which her father was still alive; in which she felt his thin arms +clasped round her neck, his faint and fitful breath warm upon her +cheek. + +A great clock in the stables struck five while Mary Marchmont stood +looking out of the Tudor window. The broad grey flat before the house +stretched far away, melting into the shadowy horizon. The pale stars +grew paler as Mary looked at them; the black-water pools began to +glimmer faintly under the widening patch of light in the eastern sky. +The girl's senses were bewildered by her suffering, and her head was +light and dizzy. + +Her father's death had made so sudden and terrible a break in her +existence, that she could scarcely believe the world had not come to an +end, with all the joys and sorrows of its inhabitants. Would there be +anything more after to-morrow? she thought; would the blank days and +nights go monotonously on when the story that had given them a meaning +and a purpose had come to its dismal end? Surely not; surely, after +those gaunt iron gates, far away across the swampy waste that was +called a park, had closed upon her father's funeral train, the world +would come to an end, and there would be no more time or space. I think +she really believed this in the semi-delirium into which she had fallen +within the last hour. She believed that all would be over; and that she +and her despair would melt away into the emptiness that was to engulf +the universe after her father's funeral. + +Then suddenly the full reality of her grief flashed upon her with +horrible force. She clasped her hands upon her forehead, and a low +faint cry broke from her white lips. + +It was _not_ all over. Time and space would _not_ be annihilated. The +weary, monotonous, workaday world would still go on upon its course. +_Nothing_ would be changed. The great gaunt stone mansion would still +stand, and the dull machinery of its interior would still go on: the +same hours; the same customs; the same inflexible routine. John +Marchmont would be carried out of the house that had owned him master, +to lie in the dismal vault under Kemberling Church; and the world in +which he had made so little stir would go on without him. The +easy-chair in which he had been wont to sit would be wheeled away from +its corner by the fireplace in the western drawing-room. The papers in +his study would be sorted and put away, or taken possession of by +strange hands. Cromwells and Napoleons die, and the earth reels for a +moment, only to be "alive and bold" again in the next instant, to the +astonishment of poets, and the calm satisfaction of philosophers; and +ordinary people eat their breakfasts while the telegram lies beside +them upon the table, and while the ink in which Mr. Reuter's message is +recorded is still wet from the machine in Printing-house Square. + +Anguish and despair more terrible than any of the tortures she had felt +yet took possession of Mary Marchmont's breast. For the first time she +looked out at her own future. Until now she had thought only of her +father's death. She had despaired because he was gone; but she had +never contemplated the horror of her future life,--a life in which she +was to exist without him. A sudden agony, that was near akin to +madness, seized upon this girl, in whose sensitive nature affection had +always had a morbid intensity. She shuddered with a wild dread at the +prospect of that blank future; and as she looked out at the wide stone +steps below the window from which she was leaning, for the first time +in her young life the idea of self-destruction flashed across her mind. + +She uttered a cry, a shrill, almost unearthly cry, that was +notwithstanding low and feeble, and clambered suddenly upon the broad +stone sill of the Tudor casement. She wanted to fling herself down and +dash her brains out upon the stone steps below; but in the utter +prostration of her state she was too feeble to do this, and she fell +backwards and dropped in a heap upon the polished oaken flooring of the +recess, striking her forehead as she fell. She lay there unconscious +until nearly seven o'clock, when one of the women-servants found her, +and carried her off to her own room, where she suffered herself to be +undressed and put to bed. + +Mary Marchmont did not speak until the good-hearted Lincolnshire +housemaid had laid her in her bed, and was going away to tell Olivia of +the state in which she had found the orphan girl. + +"Don't tell my stepmother anything about me, Susan," she said; "I think +I was mad last night." + +This speech frightened the housemaid, and she went straight to the +widow's room. Mrs. Marchmont, always an early riser, had been up and +dressed for some time, and went at once to look at her stepdaughter. + +She found Mary very calm and reasonable. There was no trace of +bewilderment or delirium now in her manner; and when the principal +doctor of Swampington came a couple of hours afterwards to look at the +young heiress, he declared that there was no cause for any alarm. The +young lady was sensitive, morbidly sensitive, he said, and must be kept +very quiet for a few days, and watched by some one whose presence would +not annoy her. If there was any girl of her own age whom she had ever +shown a predilection for, that girl would be the fittest companion for +her just now. After a few days, it would be advisable that she should +have change of air and change of scene. She must not be allowed to +brood continuously on her father's death. The doctor repeated this last +injunction more than once. It was most important that she should not +give way too perpetually to her grief. + +So Mary Marchmont lay in her darkened room while her father's funeral +train was moving slowly away from the western entrance. It happened +that the orphan girl's apartments looked out into the quadrangle; so +she heard none of the subdued sounds which attended the departure of +that solemn procession. In her weakness she had grown submissive to the +will of others. She thought this feebleness and exhaustion gave warning +of approaching death. Her prayers would be granted, after all. This +anguish and despair would be but of brief duration, and she would ere +long be carried to the vault under Kemberling Church, to lie beside her +father in the black stillness of that solemn place. + +Mrs. Marchmont strictly obeyed the doctor's injunctions. A girl of +seventeen, the daughter of a small tenant farmer near the Towers, had +been a special favourite with Mary, who was not apt to make friends +amongst strangers. This girl, Hester Pollard, was sent for, and came +willingly and gladly to watch her young patroness. She brought her +needlework with her, and sat near the window busily employed, while +Mary lay shrouded by the curtains of the bed. All active services +necessary for the comfort of the invalid were performed by Olivia or +her own special attendant--an old servant who had lived with the Rector +ever since his daughter's birth, and had only left him to follow that +daughter to Marchmont Towers after her marriage. So Hester Pollard had +nothing to do but to keep very quiet, and patiently await the time when +Mary might be disposed to talk to her. The farmer's daughter was a +gentle, unobtrusive creature, very well fitted for the duty imposed +upon her. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +PAUL. + + +Olivia Marchmont sat in her late husband's study while John's funeral +train was moving slowly along under the misty October sky. A long +stream of carriages followed the stately hearse, with its four black +horses, and its voluminous draperies of rich velvet, and nodding plumes +that were damp and heavy with the autumn atmosphere. The unassuming +master of Marchmont Towers had won for himself a quiet popularity +amongst the simple country gentry, and the best families in +Lincolnshire had sent their chiefs to do honour to his burial, or at +the least their empty carriages to represent them at that mournful +ceremonial. Olivia sat in her dead husband's favourite chamber. Her +head lay back upon the cushion of the roomy morocco-covered arm-chair +in which he had so often sat. She had been working hard that morning, +and indeed every morning since John Marchmont's death, sorting and +arranging papers, with the aid of Richard Paulette, the Lincoln's Inn +solicitor, and James Gormby, the land-steward. She knew that she had +been left sole guardian of her stepdaughter, and executrix to her +husband's will; and she had lost no time in making herself acquainted +with the business details of the estate, and the full nature of the +responsibilities intrusted to her. + +She was resting now. She had done all that could be done until after +the reading of the will. She had attended to her stepdaughter. She had +stood in one of the windows of the western drawing-room, watching the +departure of the funeral _cortège_; and now she abandoned herself for a +brief space to that idleness which was so unusual to her. + +A fire burned in the low grate at her feet, and a rough cur--half +shepherd's dog, half Scotch deer-hound, who had been fond of John, but +was not fond of Olivia--lay at the further extremity of the hearth-rug, +watching her suspiciously. + +Mrs. Marchmont's personal appearance had not altered during the two +years of her married life. Her face was thin and haggard; but it had +been thin and haggard before her marriage. And yet no one could deny +that the face was handsome, and the features beautifully chiselled. But +the grey eyes were hard and cold, the line of the faultless eyebrows +gave a stern expression to the countenance; the thin lips were rigid +and compressed. The face wanted both light and colour. A sculptor +copying it line by line would have produced a beautiful head. A painter +must have lent his own glowing tints if he wished to represent Olivia +Marchmont as a lovely woman. + +Her pale face looked paler, and her dead black hair blacker, against +the blank whiteness of her widow's cap. Her mourning dress clung +closely to her tall, slender figure. She was little more than +twenty-five, but she looked a woman of thirty. It had been her +misfortune to look older than she was from a very early period in her +life. + +She had not loved her husband when she married him, nor had she ever +felt for him that love which in most womanly natures grows out of +custom and duty. It was not in her nature to love. Her passionate +idolatry of her boyish cousin had been the one solitary affection that +had ever held a place in her cold heart. All the fire of her nature had +been concentrated in this one folly, this one passion, against which +only heroic endurance had been able to prevail. + +Mrs. Marchmont felt no grief, therefore, at her husband's loss. She had +felt the shock of his death, and the painful oppression of his dead +presence in the house. She had faithfully nursed him through many +illnesses; she had patiently tended him until the very last; she had +done her duty. And now, for the first time, she had leisure to +contemplate the past, and look forward to the future. + +So far this woman had fulfilled the task which she had taken upon +herself; she had been true and loyal to the vow she had made before +God's altar, in the church of Swampington. And now she was free. No, +not quite free; for she had a heavy burden yet upon her hands; the +solemn charge of her stepdaughter during the girl's minority. But as +regarded marriage-vows and marriage-ties she was free. + +She was free to love Edward Arundel again. + +The thought came upon her with a rush and an impetus, wild and strong +as the sudden uprising of a whirlwind, or the loosing of a +mountain-torrent that had long been bound. She was a wife no longer. It +was no longer a sin to think of the bright-haired soldier, fighting far +away. She was free. When Edward returned to England by-and-by, he would +find her free once more; a young widow,--young, handsome, and rich +enough to be no bad prize for a younger son. He would come back and +find her thus; and then--and then--! + +She flung one of her clenched hands up into the air, and struck it on +her forehead in a sudden paroxysm of rage. What then? Would he love her +any better then than he had loved her two years ago? No; he would treat +her with the same cruel indifference, the same commonplace cousinly +friendliness, with which he had mocked and tortured her before. Oh, +shame! Oh, misery! Was there no pride in women, that there could be one +among them fallen so low as her; ready to grovel at the feet of a +fair-haired boy, and to cry aloud, "Love me, love me! or be pitiful, +and strike me dead!" + +Better that John Marchmont should have lived for ever, better that +Edward Arundel should die far away upon some Eastern battle-field, +before some Affghan fortress, than that he should return to inflict +upon her the same tortures she had writhed under two years before. + +"God grant that he may never come back!" she thought. "God grant that +he may marry out yonder, and live and die there! God keep him from me +for ever and far ever in this weary world!" + +And yet in the next moment, with the inconsistency which is the chief +attribute of that madness we call love, her thoughts wandered away +dreamily into visions of the future; and she pictured Edward Arundel +back again at Swampington, at Marchmont Towers. Her soul burst its +bonds and expanded, and drank in the sunlight of gladness: and she +dared to think that it _might_ be so--there _might_ be happiness yet +for her. He had been a boy when he went back to India--careless, +indifferent. He would return a man,--graver, wiser, altogether changed: +changed so much as to love her perhaps. + +She knew that, at least, no rival had shut her cousin's heart against +her, when she and he had been together two years before. He had been +indifferent to her; but he had been indifferent to others also. There +was comfort in that recollection. She had questioned him very sharply +as to his life in India and at Dangerfield, and she had discovered no +trace of any tender memory of the past, no hint of a cherished dream of +the future. His heart had been empty: a boyish, unawakened heart: a +temple in which the niches were untenanted, the shrine unhallowed by +the presence of a goddess. + +Olivia Marchmont thought of these things. For a few moments, if only +for a few moments, she abandoned herself to such thoughts as these. She +let herself go. She released the stern hold which it was her habit to +keep upon her own mind; and in those bright moments of delicious +abandonment the glorious sunshine streamed in upon her narrow life, and +visions of a possible future expanded before her like a fairy panorama, +stretching away into realms of vague light and splendour. It was +_possible_; it was at least possible. + +But, again, in the next moment the magical panorama collapsed and +shrivelled away, like a burning scroll; the fairy picture, whose +gorgeous colouring she had looked upon with dazzled eyes, almost +blinded by its overpowering glory, shrank into a handful of black +ashes, and was gone. The woman's strong nature reasserted itself; the +iron will rose up, ready to do battle with the foolish heart. + +"I _will_ not be fooled a second time," she cried. "Did I suffer so +little when I blotted that image out of my heart? Did the destruction +of my cruel Juggernaut cost me so small an agony that I must needs be +ready to elevate the false god again, and crush out my heart once more +under the brazen wheels of his chariot? _He will never love me!_" + +She writhed; this self-sustained and resolute woman writhed in her +anguish as she uttered those five words, "He will never love me!" She +knew that they were true; that of all the changes that Time could bring +to pass, it would never bring such a change as that. There was not one +element of sympathy between herself and the young soldier; they had not +one thought in common. Nay, more; there was an absolute antagonism +between them, which, in spite of her love, Olivia fully recognised. +Over the gulf that separated them no coincidence of thought or fancy, +no sympathetic emotion, ever stretched its electric chain to draw them +together in mysterious union. They stood aloof, divided by the width of +an intellectual universe. The woman knew this, and hated herself for +her folly, scorning alike her love and its object; but her love was not +the less because of her scorn. It was a madness, an isolated madness, +which stood alone in her soul, and fought for mastery over her better +aspirations, her wiser thoughts. We are all familiar with strange +stories of wise and great minds which have been ridden by some +hobgoblin fancy, some one horrible monomania; a bleeding head upon a +dish, a grinning skeleton playing hide-and-seek in the folds of the +bed-curtains; some devilry or other before which the master-spirit +shrank and dwindled until the body withered and the victim died. + +Had Olivia Marchmont lived a couple of centuries before, she would have +gone straight to the nearest old crone, and would have boldly accused +the wretched woman of being the author of her misery. + +"You harbour a black cat and other noisome vermin, and you prowl about +muttering to yourself o' nights" she might have said. "You have been +seen to gather herbs, and you make strange and uncanny signs with your +palsied old fingers. The black cat is the devil, your colleague; and +the rats under your tumble-down roof are his imps, your associates. It +is _you_ who have instilled this horrible madness into my soul; for it +_could_ not come of itself." + +And Olivia Marchmont, being resolute and strong-minded, would not have +rested until her tormentor had paid the penalty of her foul work at a +stake in the nearest market-place. + +And indeed some of our madnesses are so mad, some of our follies are so +foolish, that we might almost be forgiven if we believed that there was +a company of horrible crones meeting somewhere on an invisible Brocken, +and making incantations for our destruction. Take up a newspaper and +read its hideous revelations of crime and folly; and it will be +scarcely strange if you involuntarily wonder whether witchcraft is a +dark fable of the middle ages, or a dreadful truth of the nineteenth +century. Must not some of these miserable creatures whose stories we +read be _possessed_; possessed by eager, relentless demons, who lash +and goad them onward, until no black abyss of vice, no hideous gulf of +crime, is black or hideous enough to content them? + +Olivia Marchmont might have been a good and great woman. She had all +the elements of greatness. She had genius, resolution, an indomitable +courage, an iron will, perseverance, self-denial, temperance, chastity. +But against all these qualities was set a fatal and foolish love for a +boy's handsome face and frank and genial manner. If Edward Arundel had +never crossed her path, her unfettered soul might have taken the +highest and grandest flight; but, chained down, bound, trammelled by +her love for him, she grovelled on the earth like some maimed and +wounded eagle, who sees his fellows afar off, high in the purple +empyrean, and loathes himself for his impotence. + +"What do I love him for?" she thought. "Is it because he has blue eyes +and chestnut hair, with wandering gleams of golden light in it? Is it +because he has gentlemanly manners, and is easy and pleasant, genial +and light-hearted? Is it because he has a dashing walk, and the air of +a man of fashion? It must be for some of these attributes, surely; for +I know nothing more in him. Of all the things he has ever said, I can +remember nothing--and I remember his smallest words, Heaven help +me!--that any sensible person could think worth repeating. He is brave, +I dare say, and generous; but what of that? He is neither braver nor +more generous than other men of his rank and position." + +She sat lost in such a reverie as this while her dead husband was being +carried to the roomy vault set apart for the owners of Marchmont Towers +and their kindred; she was absorbed in some such thoughts as these, +when one of the grave, grey-headed old servants brought her a card upon +a heavy salver emblazoned with the Marchmont arms. + +Olivia took the card almost mechanically. There are some thoughts which +carry us a long way from the ordinary occupations of every-day life, +and it is not always easy to return to the dull jog-trot routine. The +widow passed her left hand across her brow before she looked at the +name inscribed upon the card in her right. + +"Mr. Paul Marchmont." + +She started as she read the name. Paul Marchmont! She remembered what +her husband had told her of this man. It was not much; for John's +feelings on the subject of his cousin had been of so vague a nature +that he had shrunk from expounding them to his stern, practical wife. +He had told her, therefore, that he did not very much care for Paul, +and that he wished no intimacy ever to arise between the artist and +Mary; but he had said nothing more than this. + +"The gentleman is waiting to see me, I suppose?" Mrs. Marchmont said. + +"Yes, ma'am. The gentleman came to Kemberling by the 11.5 train from +London, and has driven over here in one of Harris's flys." + +"Tell him I will come to him immediately. Is he in the drawing-room?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +The man bowed and left the room. Olivia rose from her chair and +lingered by the fireplace with her foot on the fender, her elbow +resting on the carved oak chimneypiece. + +"Paul Marchmont! He has come to the funeral, I suppose. And he expects +to find himself mentioned in the will, I dare say. I think, from what +my husband told me, he will be disappointed in that. Paul Marchmont! If +Mary were to die unmarried, this man or his sisters would inherit +Marchmont Towers." + +There was a looking-glass over the mantelpiece; a narrow, oblong glass, +in an old-fashioned carved ebony frame, which was inclined forward. +Olivia looked musingly in this glass, and smoothed the heavy bands of +dead-black hair under her cap. + +"There are people who would call me handsome," she thought, as she +looked with a moody frown at her image in the glass; "and yet I have +seen Edward Arundel's eyes wander away from my face, even while I have +been talking to him, to watch the swallows skimming by in the sun, or +the ivy-leaves flapping against the wall." + +She turned from the glass with a sigh, and went out into a dusky +corridor. The shutters of all the principal rooms and the windows upon +the grand staircase were still closed; the wide hall was dark and +gloomy, and drops of rain spattered every now and then upon the logs +that smouldered on the wide old-fashioned hearth. The misty October +morning had heralded a wet day. + +Paul Marchmont was sitting in a low easy-chair before a blazing fire in +the western drawing-room, the red light full upon his face. It was a +handsome face, or perhaps, to speak more exactly, it was one of those +faces that are generally called "interesting." The features were very +delicate and refined, the pale greyish-blue eyes were shaded by long +brown lashes, and the small and rather feminine mouth was overshadowed +by a slender auburn moustache, under which the rosy tint of the lips +was very visible. But it was Paul Marchmont's hair which gave a +peculiarity to a personal appearance that might otherwise have been in +no way out of the common. This hair, fine, silky, and luxuriant, was +_white_, although its owner could not have been more than thirty-seven +years of age. + +The uninvited guest rose as Olivia Marchmont entered the room. + +"I have the honour of speaking to my cousin's widow?" he said, with a +courteous smile. + +"Yes, I am Mrs. Marchmont." + +Olivia seated herself near the fire. The wet day was cold and +cheerless. Mrs. Marchmont shivered as she extended her long thin hand +to the blaze. + +"And you are doubtless surprised to see me here, Mrs. Marchmont?" the +artist said, leaning upon the back of his chair in the easy attitude of +a man who means to make himself at home. "But believe me, that although +I never took advantage of a very friendly letter written to me by poor +John----" + +Paul Marchmont paused for a moment, keeping sharp watch upon the +widow's face; but no sorrowful expression, no evidence of emotion, was +visible in that inflexible countenance. + +"Although, I repeat, I never availed myself of a sort of general +invitation to come and shoot his partridges, or borrow money of him, or +take advantage of any of those other little privileges generally +claimed by a man's poor relations, it is not to be supposed, my dear +Mrs. Marchmont, that I was altogether forgetful of either Marchmont +Towers or its owner, my cousin. I did not come here, because I am a +hard-working man, and the idleness of a country house would have been +ruin to me. But I heard sometimes of my cousin from neighbours of his." + +"Neighbours!" repeated Olivia, in a tone of surprise. + +"Yes; people near enough to be called neighbours in the country. My +sister lives at Stanfield. She is married to a surgeon who practises in +that delightful town. You know Stanfield, of course?" + +"No, I have never been there. It is five-and-twenty miles from here." + +"Indeed! too far for a drive, then. Yes, my sister lives at Stanfield. +John never knew much of her in his adversity; and therefore may be +forgiven if he forgot her in his prosperity. But she did not forget +him. We poor relations have excellent memories. The Stanfield people +have so little to talk about, that it is scarcely any wonder if they +are inquisitive about the affairs of the grand country gentry round +about them. I heard of John through my sister; I heard of his marriage +through her,"--he bowed to Olivia as he said this,--"and I wrote +immediately to congratulate him upon that happy event,"--he bowed again +here;--"and it was through Lavinia Weston, my sister, that I heard of +poor John's death; one day before the announcement appeared in the +columns of the 'Times.' I am sorry to find that I am too late for the +funeral. I could have wished to have paid my cousin the last tribute of +esteem that one man can pay another." + +"You would wish to hear the reading of the will?" Olivia said, +interrogatively. + +Paul Marchmont shrugged his shoulders, with a low, careless laugh; not +an indecorous laugh,--nothing that this man did or said ever appeared +ill-advised or out of place. The people who disliked him were compelled +to acknowledge that they disliked him unreasonably, and very much on +the Doctor-Fell principle; for it was impossible to take objection to +either his manners or his actions. + +"That important legal document can have very little interest for me, my +dear Mrs. Marchmont," he said gaily. "John can have had nothing to +leave me. I am too well acquainted with the terms of my grandfather's +will to have any mercenary hopes in coming to Marchmont Towers." + +He stopped, and looked at Olivia's impassible face. + +"What on earth could have induced this woman to marry my cousin?" he +thought. "John could have had very little to leave his widow." + +He played with the ornaments at his watch-chain, looking reflectively +at the fire for some moments. + +"Miss Marchmont,--my cousin, Mary Marchmont, I should say,--bears her +loss pretty well, I hope?" + +Olivia shrugged her shoulders. + +"I am sorry to say that my stepdaughter displays very little Christian +resignation," she said. + +And then a spirit within her arose and whispered, with a mocking voice, +"What resignation do _you_ show beneath _your_ affliction,--you, who +should be so good a Christian? How have _you_ learned to school your +rebellious heart?" + +"My cousin is very young," Paul Marchmont said, presently. + +"She was fifteen last July." + +"Fifteen! Very young to be the owner of Marchmont Towers and an income +of eleven thousand a year," returned the artist. He walked to one of +the long windows, and drawing aside the edge of the blind, looked out +upon the terrace and the wide flats before the mansion. The rain +dripped and splashed upon the stone steps; the rain-drops hung upon the +grim adornments of the carved balustrade, soaking into moss-grown +escutcheons and half-obliterated coats-of-arms. The weird willows by +the pools far away, and a group of poplars near the house, looked gaunt +and black against the dismal grey sky. + +Paul Marchmont dropped the blind, and turned away from the gloomy +landscape with a half-contemptuous gesture. "I don't know that I envy +my cousin, after all," he said: "the place is as dreary as Tennyson's +Moated Grange." + +There was the sound of wheels on the carriage-drive before the terrace, +and presently a subdued murmur of hushed voices in the hall. Mr. +Richard Paulette, and the two medical men who had attended John +Marchmont, had returned to the Towers, for the reading of the will. +Hubert Arundel had returned with them; but the other followers in the +funeral train had departed to their several homes. The undertaker and +his men had come back to the house by the side-entrance, and were +making themselves very comfortable in the servants'-hall after the +fulfilment of their mournful duties. + +The will was to be read in the dining-room; and Mr. Paulette and the +clerk who had accompanied him to Marchmont Towers were already seated +at one end of the long carved-oak table, busy with their papers and +pens and ink, assuming an importance the occasion did not require. +Olivia went out into the hall to speak to her father. + +"You will find Mr. Marchmont's solicitor in the dining-room," she said +to Paul, who was looking at some of the old pictures on the +drawing-room walls. + +A large fire was blazing in the wide grate at the end of the +dining-room. The blinds had been drawn up. There was no longer need +that the house should be wrapped in darkness. The Awful Presence had +departed; and such light as there was in the gloomy October sky was +free to enter the rooms, which the death of one quiet, unobtrusive +creature had made for a time desolate. + +There was no sound in the room but the low voice of the two doctors +talking of their late patient in undertones near the fireplace, and the +occasional fluttering of the papers under the lawyer's hand. The clerk, +who sat respectfully a little way behind his master, and upon the very +edge of his ponderous morocco-covered chair, had been wont to give John +Marchmont his orders, and to lecture him for being tardy with his work +a few years before, in the Lincoln's Inn office. He was wondering now +whether he should find himself remembered in the dead man's will, to +the extent of a mourning ring or an old-fashioned silver snuff-box. + +Richard Paulette looked up as Olivia and her father entered the room, +followed at a little distance by Paul Marchmont, who walked at a +leisurely pace, looking at the carved doorways and the pictures against +the wainscot, and appearing, as he had declared himself, very little +concerned in the important business about to be transacted. + +"We shall want Miss Marchmont here, if you please," Mr. Paulette said, +as he looked up from his papers. + +"Is it necessary that she should be present?" Olivia asked. + +"Very necessary." + +"But she is ill; she is in bed." + +"It is most important that she should be here when the will is read. +Perhaps Mr. Bolton"--the lawyer looked towards one of the medical +men--"will see. He will be able to tell us whether Miss Marchmont can +safely come downstairs." + +Mr. Bolton, the Swampington surgeon who had attended Mary that morning, +left the room with Olivia. The lawyer rose and warmed his hands at the +blaze, talking to Hubert Arundel and the London physician as he did so. +Paul Marchmont, who had not been introduced to any one, occupied +himself entirely with the pictures for a little time; and then, +strolling over to the fireplace, fell into conversation with the three +gentlemen, contriving, adroitly enough, to let them know who he was. +The lawyer looked at him with some interest,--a professional interest, +no doubt; for Mr. Paulette had a copy of old Philip Marchmont's will in +one of the japanned deed-boxes inscribed with poor John's name. He knew +that this easy-going, pleasant-mannered, white-haired gentleman was the +Paul Marchmont named in that document, and stood next in succession to +Mary. Mary might die unmarried, and it was as well to be friendly and +civil to a man who was at least a possible client. + +The four gentlemen stood upon the broad Turkey hearth-rug for some +time, talking of the dead man, the wet weather, the cold autumn, the +dearth of partridges, and other very safe topics of conversation. +Olivia and the Swampington doctor were a long time absent; and Richard +Paulette, who stood with his back to the fire, glanced every now and +then towards the door. + +It opened at last, and Mary Marchmont came into the room, followed by +her stepmother. + +Paul Marchmont turned at the sound of the opening of that ponderous +oaken door, and for the first time saw his second cousin, the young +mistress of Marchmont Towers. He started as he looked at her, though +with a scarcely perceptible movement, and a change came over his face. +The feminine pinky hue in his cheeks faded suddenly, and left them +white. It had been a peculiarity of Paul Marchmont's, from his boyhood, +always to turn pale with every acute emotion. + +What was the emotion which had now blanched his cheeks? Was he +thinking, "Is _this_ fragile creature the mistress of Marchmont Towers? +Is _this_ frail life all that stands between me and eleven thousand a +year?" + +The light which shone out of that feeble earthly tabernacle did indeed +seem a frail and fitful flame, likely to be extinguished by any rude +breath from the coarse outer world. Mary Marchmont was deadly pale; +black shadows encircled her wistful hazel eyes. Her new mourning-dress, +with its heavy trimmings of lustreless crape, seemed to hang loose upon +her slender figure; her soft brown hair, damp with the water with which +her burning forehead had been bathed, fell in straight lank tresses +about her shoulders. Her eyes were tearless, her mouth terribly +compressed. The rigidity of her face betokened the struggle by which +her sorrow was repressed. She sat in an easy-chair which Olivia +indicated to her, and with her hands lying on the white handkerchief in +her lap, and her swollen eyelids drooping over her eyes, waited for the +reading of her father's will. It would be the last, the very last, she +would ever hear of that dear father's words. She remembered this, and +was ready to listen attentively; but she remembered nothing else. What +was it to her that she was sole heiress of that great mansion, and of +eleven thousand a year? She had never in her life thought of the +Lincolnshire fortune with any reference to herself or her own +pleasures; and she thought of it less than ever now. + +The will was dated February 4th, 1844, exactly two months after John's +marriage. It had been made by the master of Marchmont Towers without +the aid of a lawyer, and was only witnessed by John's housekeeper, and +by Corson the old valet, a confidential servant who had attended upon +Mr. Marchmont's predecessor. + +Richard Paulette began to read; and Mary, for the first time since she +had taken her seat near the fire, lifted her eyes, and listened +breathlessly, with faintly tremulous lips. Olivia sat near her +stepdaughter; and Paul Marchmont stood in a careless attitude at one +corner of the fireplace, with his shoulders resting against the massive +oaken chimneypiece. The dead man's will ran thus: + +"I John Marchmont of Marchmont Towers declare this to be my last will +and testament Being persuaded that my end is approaching I feel my dear +little daughter Mary will be left unprotected by any natural guardian +My young friend Edward Arundel I had hoped when in my poverty would +have been a friend and adviser to her if not a protector but her tender +years and his position in life must place this now out of the question +and I may die before a fond hope which I have long cherished can be +realised and which may now never be realised I now desire to make my +will more particularly to provide as well as I am permitted for the +guardianship and care of my dear little Mary during her minority Now I +will and desire that my wife Olivia shall act as guardian adviser and +mother to my dear little Mary and that she place herself under the +charge and guardianship of my wife And as she will be an heiress of +very considerable property I would wish her to be guided by the advice +of my said wife in the management of her property and particularly in +the choice of a husband As my dear little Mary will be amply provided +for on my death I make no provision for her by this my will but I +direct my executrix to present to her a diamond-ring which I wish her +to wear in memory of her loving father so that she may always have me +in her thoughts and particularly of these my wishes as to her future +life until she shall be of age and capable of acting on her own +judgment. I also request my executrix to present my young friend Edward +Arundel also with a diamond-ring of the value of at least one hundred +guineas as a slight tribute of the regard and esteem which I have ever +entertained for him. . . . As to all the property as well real as +personal over which I may at the time of my death have any control and +capable of claiming or bequeathing I give devise and bequeath to my +wife Olivia absolutely And I appoint my said wife sole executrix of +this my will and guardian of my dear little Mary." + +There were a few very small legacies, including a mourning-ring to the +expectant clerk; and this was all. Paul Marchmont had been quite right; +nobody could be less interested than himself in this will. + +But he was apparently very much interested in John's widow and +daughter. He tried to enter into conversation with Mary, but the girl's +piteous manner seemed to implore him to leave her unmolested; and Mr. +Bolton approached his patient almost immediately after the reading of +the will, and in a manner took possession of her. Mary was very glad to +leave the room once more, and to return to the dim chamber where Hester +Pollard sat at needlework. Olivia left her stepdaughter to the care of +this humble companion, and went back to the long dining-room, where the +gentlemen still hung listlessly over the fire, not knowing very well +what to do with themselves. + +Mrs. Marchmont could not do less than invite Paul to stay a few days at +the Towers. She was virtually mistress of the house during Mary's +minority, and on her devolved all the troubles, duties, and +responsibilities attendant on such a position. Her father was going to +stay with her till the end of the week; and he therefore would be able +to entertain Mr. Marchmont. Paul unhesitatingly accepted the widow's +hospitality. The old place was picturesque and interesting, he said; +there were some genuine Holbeins in the hall and dining-room, and one +good Lely in the drawing-room. He would give himself a couple of days' +holiday, and go to Stanfield by an early train on Saturday. + +"I have not seen my sister for a long time," he said; "her life is dull +enough and hard enough, Heaven knows, and she will be glad to see me +upon my way back to London." + +Olivia bowed. She did not persuade Mr. Marchmont to extend his visit. +The common courtesy she offered him was kept within the narrowest +limits. She spent the best part of the time in the dead man's study +during Paul's two-days' stay, and left the artist almost entirely to +her father's companionship. + +But she was compelled to appear at dinner, and she took her accustomed +place at the head of the table. Paul therefore had some opportunity of +sounding the depths of the strangest nature he had ever tried to +fathom. He talked to her very much, listening with unvarying attention +to every word she uttered. He watched her--but with no obtrusive +gaze--almost incessantly; and when he went away from Marchmont Towers, +without having seen Mary since the reading of the will, it was of +Olivia he thought; it was the recollection of Olivia which interested +as much as it perplexed him. + +The few people waiting for the London train looked at the artist as he +strolled up and down the quiet platform at Kemberling Station, with his +head bent and his eyebrows slightly contracted. He had a certain easy, +careless grace of dress and carriage, which harmonised well with his +delicate face, his silken silvery hair, his carefully-trained auburn +moustache, and rosy, womanish mouth. He was a romantic-looking man. He +was the beau-ideal of the hero in a young lady's novel. He was a man +whom schoolgirls would have called "a dear." But it had been better, I +think, for any helpless wretch to be in the bull-dog hold of the +sturdiest Bill Sykes ever loosed upon society by right of his +ticket-of-leave, than in the power of Paul Marchmont, artist and +teacher of drawing, of Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square. + +He was thinking of Olivia as he walked slowly up and down the bare +platform, only separated by a rough wooden paling from the flat open +fields on the outskirts of Kemberling. + +"The little girl is as feeble as a pale February butterfly." he +thought; "a puff of frosty wind might wither her away. But that woman, +that woman--how handsome she is, with her accurate profile and iron +mouth; but what a raging fire there is hidden somewhere in her breast, +and devouring her beauty by day and night! If I wanted to paint the +sleeping scene in _Macbeth_, I'd ask her to sit for the Thane's wicked +wife. Perhaps she has some bloody secret as deadly as the murder of a +grey-headed Duncan upon her conscience, and leaves her bedchamber in +the stillness of the night to walk up and down those long oaken +corridors at the Towers, and wring her hands and wail aloud in her +sleep. Why did she marry John Marchmont? His life gave her little more +than a fine house to live in; his death leaves her with nothing but ten +or twelve thousand pounds in the Three per Cents. What is her +mystery--what is her secret, I wonder? for she must surely have one." + +Such thoughts as these filled his mind as the train carried him away +from the lonely little station, and away from the neighbourhood of +Marchmont Towers, within whose stony walls Mary lay in her quiet +chamber, weeping for her dead father, and wishing--God knows in what +utter singleness of heart!--that she had been buried in the vault by +his side. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +OLIVIA'S DESPAIR. + + +The life which Mary and her stepmother led at Marchmont Towers after +poor John's death was one of those tranquil and monotonous existences +that leave very little to be recorded, except the slow progress of the +weeks and months, the gradual changes of the seasons. Mary bore her +sorrows quietly, as it was her nature to bear all things. The doctor's +advice was taken, and Olivia removed her stepdaughter to Scarborough +soon after the funeral. But the change of scene was slow to effect any +change in the state of dull despairing sorrow into which the girl had +fallen. The sea-breezes brought no colour into her pale cheeks. She +obeyed her stepmother's behests unmurmuringly, and wandered wearily by +the dreary seashore in the dismal November weather, in search of health +and strength. But wherever she went, she carried with her the awful +burden of her grief; and in every changing cadence of the low winter +winds, in every varying murmur of the moaning waves, she seemed to hear +her dead father's funeral dirge. + +I think that, young as Mary Marchmont was, this mournful period was the +grand crisis of her life. The past, with its one great affection, had +been swept away from her, and as yet there was no friendly figure to +fill the dismal blank of the future. Had any kindly matron, any gentle +Christian creature been ready to stretch out her arms to the desolate +orphan, Mary's heart would have melted, and she would have crept to the +shelter of that womanly embrace, to nestle there for ever. But there +was no one. Olivia Marchmont obeyed the letter of her husband's solemn +appeal, as she had obeyed the letter of those Gospel sentences that had +been familiar to her from her childhood, but was utterly unable to +comprehend its spirit. She accepted the charge intrusted to her. She +was unflinching in the performance of her duty; but no one glimmer of +the holy light of motherly love and tenderness, the semi-divine +compassion of womanhood, ever illumined the dark chambers of her heart. +Every night she questioned herself upon her knees as to her rigid +performance of the level round of duty she had allotted to herself; +every night--scrupulous and relentless as the hardest judge who ever +pronounced sentence upon a criminal--she took note of her own +shortcomings, and acknowledged her deficiencies. + +But, unhappily, this self-devotion of Olivia's pressed no less heavily +upon Mary than on the widow herself. The more rigidly Mrs. Marchmont +performed the duties which she understood to be laid upon her by her +dead husband's last will and testament, the harder became the orphan's +life. The weary treadmill of education worked on, when the young +student was well-nigh fainting upon every step in that hopeless +revolving ladder of knowledge. If Olivia, on communing with herself at +night, found that the day just done had been too easy for both mistress +and pupil, the morrow's allowance of Roman emperors and French grammar +was made to do penance for yesterday's shortcomings. + +"This girl has been intrusted to my care, and one of my first duties is +to give her a good education," Olivia Marchmont thought. "She is +inclined to be idle; but I must fight against her inclination, whatever +trouble the struggle entails upon myself. The harder the battle, the +better for me if I am conqueror." + +It was only thus that Olivia Marchmont could hope to be a good woman. +It was only by the rigid performance of hard duties, the patient +practice of tedious rites, that she could hope to attain that eternal +crown which simpler Christians seem to win so easily. + +Morning and night the widow and her stepdaughter read the Bible +together; morning and night they knelt side by side to join in the same +familiar prayers; yet all these readings and all these prayers failed +to bring them any nearer together. No tender sentence of inspiration, +not the words of Christ himself, ever struck the same chord in these +two women's hearts, bringing both into sudden unison. They went to +church three times upon every dreary Sunday,--dreary from the terrible +uniformity which made one day a mechanical repetition of another,--and +sat together in the same pew; and there were times when some solemn +word, some sublime injunction, seemed to fall with a new meaning upon +the orphan girl's heart; but if she looked at her stepmother's face, +thinking to see some ray of that sudden light which had newly shone +into her own mind reflected _there_, the blank gloom of Olivia's +countenance seemed like a dead wall, across which no glimmer of +radiance ever shone. + +They went back to Marchmont Towers in the early spring. People imagined +that the young widow would cultivate the society of her husband's old +friends, and that morning callers would be welcome at the Towers, and +the stately dinner-parties would begin again, when Mrs. Marchmont's +year of mourning was over. But it was not so; Olivia closed her doors +upon almost all society, and devoted herself entirely to the education +of her stepdaughter. The gossips of Swampington and Kemberling, the +county gentry who had talked of her piety and patience, her unflinching +devotion to the poor of her father's parish, talked now of her +self-abnegation, the sacrifices she made for her stepdaughter's sake, +the noble manner in which she justified John Marchmont's confidence in +her goodness. Other women would have intrusted the heiress's education +to some hired governess, people said; other women would have been upon +the look-out for a second husband; other women would have grown weary +of the dulness of that lonely Lincolnshire mansion, the monotonous +society of a girl of sixteen. They were never tired of lauding Mrs. +Marchmont as a model for all stepmothers in time to come. + +Did she sacrifice much, this woman, whose spirit was a raging fire, who +had the ambition of a Semiramis, the courage of a Boadicea, the +resolution of a Lady Macbeth? Did she sacrifice much in resigning such +provincial gaieties as might have adorned her life,--a few +dinner-parties, an occasional county ball, a flirtation with some +ponderous landed gentleman or hunting squire? + +No; these things would very soon have grown odious to her--more odious +than the monotony of her empty life, more wearisome even than the +perpetual weariness of her own spirit. I said, that when she accepted a +new life by becoming the wife of John Marchmont, she acted in the +spirit of a prisoner, who is glad to exchange his old dungeon for a new +one. But, alas! the novelty of the prison-house had very speedily worn +off, and that which Olivia Arundel had been at Swampington Rectory, +Olivia Marchmont was now in the gaunt country mansion,--a wretched +woman, weary of herself and all the world, devoured by a slow-consuming +and perpetual fire. + +This woman was, for two long melancholy years, Mary Marchmont's sole +companion and instructress. I say sole companion advisedly; for the +girl was not allowed to become intimate with the younger members of +such few county families as still called occasionally at the Towers, +lest she should become empty-headed and frivolous by their +companionship. Alas, there was little fear of Mary becoming +empty-headed! As she grew taller, and more slender, she seemed to get +weaker and paler; and her heavy head drooped wearily under the load of +knowledge which it had been made to carry, like some poor sickly flower +oppressed by the weight of the dew-drops, which would have revivified a +hardier blossom. + +Heaven knows to what end Mrs. Marchmont educated her stepdaughter! Poor +Mary could have told the precise date of any event in universal +history, ancient or modern; she could have named the exact latitude and +longitude of the remotest island in the least navigable ocean, and +might have given an accurate account of the manners and customs of its +inhabitants, had she been called upon to do so. She was alarmingly +learned upon the subject of tertiary and old red sandstone, and could +have told you almost as much as Mr. Charles Kingsley himself about the +history of a gravel-pit,--though I doubt if she could have conveyed her +information in quite such a pleasant manner; she could have pointed out +every star in the broad heavens above Lincolnshire, and could have told +the history of its discovery; she knew the hardest names that science +had given to the familiar field-flowers she met in her daily +walks;--yet I cannot say that her conversation was any the more +brilliant because of this, or that her spirits grew lighter under the +influence of this general mental illumination. + +But Mrs. Marchmont did most earnestly believe that this laborious +educationary process was one of the duties she owed her stepdaughter; +and when, at seventeen years of age, Mary emerged from the struggle, +laden with such intellectual spoils as I have described above, the +widow felt a quiet satisfaction as she contemplated her work, and said +to herself, "In this, at least, I have done my duty." + +Amongst all the dreary mass of instruction beneath which her health had +very nearly succumbed, the girl had learned one thing that was a source +of pleasure to herself; she had learned to become a very brilliant +musician. She was not a musical genius, remember; for no such vivid +flame as the fire of genius had ever burned in her gentle breast; but +all the tenderness of her nature, all the poetry of a hyper-poetical +mind, centred in this one accomplishment, and, condemned to perpetual +silence in every other tongue, found a new and glorious language here. +The girl had been forbidden to read Byron and Scott; but she was not +forbidden to sit at her piano, when the day's toils were over, and the +twilight was dusky in her quiet room, playing dreamy melodies by +Beethoven and Mozart, and making her own poetry to Mendelssohn's +wordless songs. I think her soul must have shrunk and withered away +altogether had it not been for this one resource, this one refuge, in +which her mind regained its elasticity, springing up, like a trampled +flower, into new life and beauty. + +Olivia was well pleased to see the girl sit hour after hour at her +piano. She had learned to play well and brilliantly herself, mastering +all difficulties with the proud determination which was a part of her +strong nature; but she had no special love for music. All things that +compose the poetry and beauty of life had been denied to this woman, in +common with the tenderness which makes the chief loveliness of +womankind. She sat by the piano and listened while Mary's slight hands +wandered over the keys, carrying the player's soul away into trackless +regions of dream-land and beauty; but she heard nothing in the music +except so many chords, so many tones and semitones, played in such or +such a time. + +It would have been scarcely natural for Mary Marchmont, reserved and +self-contained though she had been ever since her father's death, to +have had no yearning for more genial companionship than that of her +stepmother. The girl who had kept watch in her room, by the doctor's +suggestion, was the one friend and confidante whom the young mistress +of Marchmont Towers fain would have chosen. But here Olivia interposed, +sternly forbidding any intimacy between the two girls. Hester Pollard +was the daughter of a small tenant-farmer, and no fit associate for +Mrs. Marchmont's stepdaughter. Olivia thought that this taste for +obscure company was the fruit of Mary's early training--the taint left +by those bitter, debasing days of poverty, in which John Marchmont and +his daughter had lived in some wretched Lambeth lodging. + +"But Hester Pollard is fond of me, mamma," the girl pleaded; "and I +feel so happy at the old farm house! They are all so kind to me when I +go there,--Hester's father and mother, and little brothers and sisters, +you know; and the poultry-yard, and the pigs and horses, and the green +pond, with the geese cackling round it, remind me of my aunt's, in +Berkshire. I went there once with poor papa for a day or two; it was +_such_ a change after Oakley Street." + +But Mrs. Marchmont was inflexible upon this point. She would allow her +stepdaughter to pay a ceremonial visit now and then to Farmer +Pollard's, and to be entertained with cowslip-wine and pound-cake in +the low, old-fashioned parlour, where all the polished mahogany chairs +were so shining and slippery that it was a marvel how anybody ever +contrived to sit down upon them. Olivia allowed such solemn visits as +these now and then, and she permitted Mary to renew the farmer's lease +upon sufficiently advantageous terms, and to make occasional presents +to her favourite, Hester. But all stolen visits to the farmyard, all +evening rambles with the farmer's daughter in the apple orchard at the +back of the low white farmhouse, were sternly interdicted; and though +Mary and Hester were friends still, they were fain to be content with a +chance meeting once in the course of a dreary interval of months, and a +silent pressure of the hand. + +"You mustn't think that I am proud of my money, Hester," Mary said to +her friend, "or that I forget you now that we see each other so seldom. +Papa used to let me come to the farm whenever I liked; but papa had +seen a great deal of poverty. Mamma keeps me almost always at home at +my studies; but she is very good to me, and of course I am bound to +obey her; papa wished me to obey her." + +The orphan girl never for a moment forgot the terms of her father's +will. _He_ had wished her to obey; what should she do, then, but be +obedient? Her submission to Olivia's lightest wish was only a part of +the homage which she paid to that beloved father's memory. + +It was thus she grew to early womanhood; a child in gentle obedience +and docility; a woman by reason of that grave and thoughtful character +which had been peculiar to her from her very infancy. It was in a life +such as this, narrow, monotonous, joyless, that her seventeenth +birthday came and went, scarcely noticed, scarcely remembered, in the +dull uniformity of the days which left no track behind them; and Mary +Marchmont was a woman,--a woman with all the tragedy of life before +her; infantine in her innocence and inexperience of the world outside +Marchmont Towers. + +The passage of time had been so long unmarked by any break in its +tranquil course, the dull routine of life had been so long undisturbed +by change, that I believe the two women thought their lives would go on +for ever and ever. Mary, at least, had never looked beyond the dull +horizon of the present. Her habit of castle-building had died out with +her father's death. What need had she to build castles, now that he +could no longer inhabit them? Edward Arundel, the bright boy she +remembered in Oakley Street, the dashing young officer who had come to +Marchmont Towers, had dropped back into the chaos of the past. Her +father had been the keystone in the arch of Mary's existence: he was +gone, and a mass of chaotic ruins alone remained of the familiar +visions which had once beguiled her. The world had ended with John +Marchmont's death, and his daughter's life since that great sorrow had +been at best only a passive endurance of existence. They had heard very +little of the young soldier at Marchmont Towers. Now and then a letter +from some member of the family at Dangerfield had come to the Rector of +Swampington. The warfare was still raging far away in the East, cruel +and desperate battles were being fought, and brave Englishmen were +winning loot and laurels, or perishing under the scimitars of Sikhs and +Affghans, as the case might be. Squire Arundel's youngest son was not +doing less than his duty, the letters said. He had gained his +captaincy, and was well spoken of by great soldiers, whose very names +were like the sound of the war-trumpet to English ears. + +Olivia heard all this. She sat by her father, sometimes looking over +his shoulder at the crumpled letter, as he read aloud to her of her +cousin's exploits. The familiar name seemed to be all ablaze with lurid +light as the widow's greedy eyes devoured it. How commonplace the +letters were! What frivolous nonsense Letitia Arundel intermingled with +the news of her brother!--"You'll be glad to hear that my grey pony has +got the better of his lameness. Papa gave a hunting-breakfast on +Tuesday week. Lord Mountlitchcombe was present; but the hunting-men are +very much aggravated about the frost, and I fear we shall have no +crocuses. Edward has got his captaincy, papa told me to tell you. Sir +Charles Napier and Major Outram have spoken very highly of him; but +he--Edward, I mean--got a sabre-cut on his left arm, besides a wound on +his forehead, and was laid up for nearly a month. I daresay you +remember old Colonel Tollesly, at Halburton Lodge? He died last +November; and has left all his money to----" and the young lady ran on +thus, with such gossip as she thought might be pleasing to her uncle; +and there were no more tidings of the young soldier, whose life-blood +had so nearly been spilt for his country's glory. + +Olivia thought of him as she rode back to Marchmont Towers. She thought +of the sabre-cut upon his arm, and pictured him wounded and bleeding, +lying beneath the canvass-shelter of a tent, comfortless, lonely, +forsaken. + +"Better for me if he had died," she thought; "better for me if I were +to hear of his death to-morrow!" + +And with the idea the picture of such a calamity arose before her so +vividly and hideously distinct, that she thought for one brief moment +of agony, "This is not a fancy, it is a presentiment; it is second +sight; the thing will occur." + +She imagined herself going to see her father as she had gone that +morning. All would be the same: the low grey garden-wall of the +Rectory; the ceaseless surging of the sea; the prim servant-maid; the +familiar study, with its litter of books and papers; the smell of stale +cigar-smoke; the chintz curtains flapping in the open window; the dry +leaves fluttering in the garden without. There would be nothing changed +except her father's face, which would be a little graver than usual. +And then, after a little hesitation--after a brief preamble about the +uncertainty of life, the necessity for looking always beyond this +world, the horrors of war,--the dreadful words would be upon his lips, +when she would read all the hideous truth in his face, and fall prone +to the ground, before he could say, "Edward Arundel is dead!" + +Yes; she felt all the anguish. It would be this--this sudden paralysis +of black despair. She tested the strength of her endurance by this +imaginary torture,--scarcely imaginary, surely, when it seemed so +real,--and asked herself a strange question: "Am I strong enough to +bear this, or would it be less terrible to go on, suffering for +ever--for ever abased and humiliated by the degradation of my love for +a man who does not care for me?" + +So long as John Marchmont had lived, this woman would have been true to +the terrible victory she had won upon the eve of her bridal. She would +have been true to herself and to her marriage-vow; but her husband's +death, in setting her free, had cast her back upon the madness of her +youth. It was no longer a sin to think of Edward Arundel. Having once +suffered this idea to arise in her mind, her idol grew too strong for +her, and she thought of him by night and day. + +Yes; she thought of him for ever and ever. The narrow life to which she +doomed herself, the self-immolation which she called duty, left her a +prey to this one thought. Her work was not enough for her. Her powerful +mind wasted and shrivelled for want of worthy employment. It was like +one vast roll of parchment whereon half the wisdom of the world might +have been inscribed, but on which was only written over and over again, +in maddening repetition, the name of Edward Arundel. If Olivia +Marchmont could have gone to America, and entered herself amongst the +feminine professors of law or medicine,--if she could have turned +field-preacher, like simple Dinah Morris, or set up a printing-press in +Bloomsbury, or even written a novel,--I think she might have been +saved. The superabundant energy of her mind would have found a new +object. As it was, she did none of these things. She had only dreamt +one dream, and by force of perpetual repetition the dream had become a +madness. + +But the monotonous life was not to go on for ever. The dull, grey, +leaden sky was to be illumined by sudden bursts of sunshine, and swept +by black thunder-clouds, whose stormy violence was to shake the very +universe for these two solitary women. + +John Marchmont had been dead nearly three years. Mary's humble friend, +the farmer's daughter, had married a young tradesman in the village of +Kemberling, a mile and a half from the Towers. Mary was a woman now, +and had seen the last of the Roman emperors and all the dry-as-dust +studies of her early girlhood. She had nothing to do but accompany her +stepmother hither and thither amongst the poor cottagers about +Kemberling and two or three other small parishes within a drive of the +Towers, "doing good," after Olivia's fashion, by line and rule. At home +the young lady did what she pleased, sitting for hours together at her +piano, or wading through gigantic achievements in the way of +embroidery-work. She was even allowed to read novels now, but only such +novels as were especially recommended to Olivia, who was one of the +patronesses of a book-club at Swampington: novels in which young ladies +fell in love with curates, and didn't marry them: novels in which +everybody suffered all manner of misery, and rather liked it: novels in +which, if the heroine did marry the man she loved--and this happy +conclusion was the exception, and not the rule--the smallpox swept away +her beauty, or a fatal accident deprived him of his legs, or eyes, or +arms before the wedding-day. + +The two women went to Kemberling Church together three times every +Sunday. It was rather monotonous--the same church, the same rector and +curate, the same clerk, the same congregation, the same old organ-tunes +and droning voices of Lincolnshire charity-children, the same sermons +very often. But Mary had grown accustomed to monotony. She had ceased +to hope or care for anything since her father's death, and was very +well contented to be let alone, and allowed to dawdle through a dreary +life which was utterly without aim or purpose. She sat opposite her +stepmother on one particular afternoon in the state-pew at Kemberling, +which was lined with faded red baize, and raised a little above the +pews of meaner worshippers; she was sitting with her listless hands +lying in her lap, looking thoughtfully at her stepmother's stony face, +and listening to the dull droning of the rector's voice above her head. +It was a sunny afternoon in early June, and the church was bright with +a warm yellow radiance; one of the old diamond-paned windows was open, +and the tinkling of a sheep-bell far away in the distance, and the hum +of bees in the churchyard, sounded pleasantly in the quiet of the hot +atmosphere. + +The young mistress of Marchmont Towers felt the drowsy influence of +that tranquil summer weather creeping stealthily upon her. The heavy +eyelids drooped over her soft brown eyes, those wistful eyes which had +so long looked wearily out upon a world in which there seemed so little +joy. The rector's sermon was a very long one this warm afternoon, and +there was a low sound of snoring somewhere in one of the shadowy and +sheltered pews beneath the galleries. Mary tried very hard to keep +herself awake. Mrs. Marchmont had frowned darkly at her once or twice +already, for to fall asleep in church was a dire iniquity in Olivia's +rigid creed; but the drowsiness was not easily to be conquered, and the +girl was sinking into a peaceful slumber in spite of her stepmother's +menacing frowns, when the sound of a sharp footfall on one of the +gravel pathways in the churchyard aroused her attention. + +Heaven knows why she should have been awoke out of her sleep by the +sound of that step. It was different, perhaps, to the footsteps of the +Kemberling congregation. The brisk, sharp sound of the tread striking +lightly but firmly on the gravel was not compatible with the shuffling +gait of the tradespeople and farmers' men who formed the greater part +of the worshippers at that quiet Lincolnshire church. Again, it would +have been a monstrous sin in that tranquil place for any one member of +the congregation to disturb the devotions of the rest by entering at +such a time as this. It was a stranger, then, evidently. What did it +matter? Miss Marchmont scarcely cared to lift her eyelids to see who or +what the stranger was; but the intruder let in such a flood of June +sunshine when he pushed open the ponderous oaken door under the +church-porch, that she was dazzled by that sudden burst of light, and +involuntarily opened her eyes. + +The stranger let the door swing softly to behind him, and stood beneath +the shadow of the porch, not caring to advance any further, or to +disturb the congregation by his presence. + +Mary could not see him very plainly at first. She could only dimly +define the outline of his tall figure, the waving masses of chestnut +hair tinged with gleams of gold; but little by little his face seemed +to grow out of the shadow, until she saw it all,--the handsome +patrician features, the luminous blue eyes, the amber moustache,--the +face which, in Oakley Street eight years ago, she had elected as her +type of all manly perfection, her ideal of heroic grace. + +Yes; it was Edward Arundel. Her eyes lighted up with an unwonted +rapture as she looked at him; her lips parted; and her breath came in +faint gasps. All the monotonous years, the terrible agonies of sorrow, +dropped away into the past; and Mary Marchmont was conscious of nothing +except the unutterable happiness of the present. + +The one friend of her childhood had come back. The one link, the almost +forgotten link, that bound her to every day-dream of those foolish +early days, was united once more by the presence of the young soldier. +All that happy time, nearly five years ago,--that happy time in which +the tennis-court had been built, and the boat-house by the river +restored,--those sunny autumn days before her father's second +marriage,--returned to her. There was pleasure and joy in the world, +after all; and then the memory of her father came back to her mind, and +her eyes filled with tears. How sorry Edward would be to see his old +friend's empty place in the western drawing-room; how sorry for her, +and for her loss! Olivia Marchmont saw the change in her stepdaughter's +face, and looked at her with stern amazement. But, after the first +shock of that delicious surprise, Mary's training asserted itself. She +folded her hands,--they trembled a little, but Olivia did not see +that,--and waited patiently, with her eyes cast down and a faint flush +lighting up her pale cheeks, until the sermon was finished, and the +congregation began to disperse. She was not impatient. She felt as if +she could have waited thus peacefully and contentedly for ever, knowing +that the only friend she had on earth was near her. + +Olivia was slow to leave her pew; but at last she opened the door and +went out into the quiet aisle, followed by Mary, out under the shadowy +porch and into the gravel-walk in the churchyard, where Edward Arundel +was waiting for the two ladies. + +John Marchmont's widow uttered no cry of surprise when she saw her +cousin standing a little way apart from the slowly-dispersing +Kemberling congregation. Her dark face faded a little, and her heart +seemed to stop its pulsation suddenly, as if she had been turned into +stone; but this was only for a moment. She held out her hand to Mr. +Arundel in the next instant, and bade him welcome to Lincolnshire. + +"I did not know you were in England," she said. + +"Scarcely any one knows it yet," the young man answered; "and I have +not even been home. I came to Marchmont Towers at once." + +He turned from his cousin to Mary, who was standing a little behind her +stepmother. + +"Dear Polly," he said, taking both her hands in his, "I was so sorry +for you, when I heard----" + +He stopped, for he saw the tears welling up to her eyes. It was not his +allusion to her father's death that had distressed her. He had called +her Polly, the old familiar name, which she had never heard since that +dead father's lips had last spoken it. + +The carriage was waiting at the gate of the churchyard, and Edward +Arundel went back to Marchmont Towers with the two ladies. He had +reached the house a quarter of an hour after they had left it for +afternoon church, and had walked over to Kemberling. + +"I was so anxious to see you, Polly," he said, "after all this long +time, that I had no patience to wait until you and Livy came back from +church." + +Olivia started as the young man said this. It was Mary Marchmont whom +he had come to see, then--not herself. Was _she_ never to be anything? +Was she to be for ever insulted by this humiliating indifference? A +dark flush came over her face, as she drew her head up with the air of +an offended empress, and looked angrily at her cousin. Alas! he did not +even see that indignant glance. He was bending over Mary, telling her, +in a low tender voice, of the grief he had felt at learning the news of +her father's death. + +Olivia Marchmont looked with an eager, scrutinising gaze at her +stepdaughter. Could it be possible that Edward Arundel might ever come +to love this girl? _Could_ such a thing be possible? A hideous depth of +horror and confusion seemed to open before her with the thought. In all +the past, amongst all things she had imagined, amongst all the +calamities she had pictured to herself, she had never thought of +anything like this. Would such a thing ever come to pass? Would she +ever grow to hate this girl--this girl, who had been intrusted to her +by her dead husband--with the most terrible hatred that one woman can +feel towards another? + +In the next moment she was angry with herself for the abject folly of +this new terror. She had never yet learned to think of Mary as a woman. +She had never thought of her otherwise than as the pale childlike girl +who had come to her meekly, day after day, to recite difficult lessons, +standing in a submissive attitude before her, and rendering obedience +to her in all things. Was it likely, was it possible, that this +pale-faced girl would enter into the lists against her in the great +battle of her life? Was it likely that she was to find her adversary +and her conqueror here, in the meek child who had been committed to her +charge? + +She watched her stepdaughter's face with a jealous, hungry gaze. Was it +beautiful? No! The features were delicate; the brown eyes soft and +dovelike, almost lovely, now that they were irradiated by a new light, +as they looked shyly up at Edward Arundel. But the girl's face was wan +and colourless. It lacked the splendour of beauty. It was only after +you had looked at Mary for a very long time that you began to think her +rather pretty. + +The five years during which Edward Arundel had been away had made +little alteration in him. He was rather taller, perhaps; his amber +moustache thicker; his manner more dashing than of old. The mark of a +sabre-cut under the clustering chestnut curls upon the temple gave him +a certain soldierly dignity. He seemed a man of the world now, and Mary +Marchmont was rather afraid of him. He was so different to the +Lincolnshire squires, the bashful younger sons who were to be educated +for the Church: he was so dashing, so elegant, so splendid! From the +waving grace of his hair to the tip of the polished boot peeping out of +his well-cut trouser (there were no pegtops in 1847, and it was _le +genre_ to show very little of the boot), he was a creature to be +wondered at, to be almost reverenced, Mary thought. She could not help +admiring the cut of his coat, the easy _nonchalance_ of his manner, the +waxed ends of his curved moustache, the dangling toys of gold and +enamel that jingled at his watch-chain, the waves of perfume that +floated away from his cambric handkerchief. She was childish enough to +worship all these external attributes in her hero. + +"Shall I invite him to Marchmont Towers?" Olivia thought; and while she +was deliberating upon this question, Mary Marchmont cried out, "You +will stop at the Towers, won't you, Mr. Arundel, as you did when poor +papa was alive?" + +"Most decidedly, Miss Marchmont," the young man answered. "I mean to +throw myself upon your hospitality as confidingly as I did a long time +ago in Oakley Street, when you gave me hot rolls for my breakfast." + +Mary laughed aloud--perhaps for the first time since her father's +death. Olivia bit her lip. She was of so little account, then, she +thought, that they did not care to consult her. A gloomy shadow spread +itself over her face. Already, already she began to hate this +pale-faced, childish orphan girl, who seemed to be transformed into a +new being under the spell of Edward Arundel's presence. + +But she made no attempt to prevent his stopping at the Towers, though a +word from her would have effectually hindered his coming. A dull torpor +of despair took possession of her; a black apprehension paralysed her +mind. She felt that a pit of horror was opening before her ignorant +feet. All that she had suffered was as nothing to what she was about to +suffer. Let it be, then! What could she do to keep this torture away +from her? Let it come, since it seemed that it must come in some shape +or other. + +She thought all this, while she sat back in a corner of the carriage +watching the two faces opposite to her, as Edward and Mary, seated with +their backs to the horses, talked together in low confidential tones, +which scarcely reached her ear. She thought all this during the short +drive between Kemberling and Marchmont Towers; and when the carriage +drew up before the low Tudor portico, the dark shadow had settled on +her face. Her mind was made up. Let Edward Arundel come; let the worst +come. She had struggled; she had tried to do her duty; she had striven +to be good. But her destiny was stronger than herself, and had brought +this young soldier over land and sea, safe out of every danger, rescued +from every peril, to be her destruction. I think that in this crisis of +her life the last faint ray of Christian light faded out of this lost +woman's soul, leaving utter darkness and desolation. The old landmarks, +dimly descried in the weary desert, sank for ever down into the +quicksands, and she was left alone,--alone with her despair. Her +jealous soul prophesied the evil which she dreaded. This man, whose +indifference to her was almost an insult, would fall in love with Mary +Marchmont,--with Mary Marchmont, whose eyes lit up into new beauty +under the glances of his, whose pale face blushed into faint bloom as +he talked to her. The girl's undisguised admiration would flatter the +young man's vanity, and he would fall in love with her out of very +frivolity and weakness of purpose. + +"He is weak and vain, and foolish and frivolous, I daresay," Olivia +thought; "and if I were to fling myself upon my knees at his feet, and +tell him that I loved him, he would be flattered and grateful, and +would be ready to return my affection. If I could tell him what this +girl tells him in every look and word, he would be as pleased with me +as he is with her." + +Her lip curled with unutterable scorn as she thought this. She was so +despicable to herself by the deep humiliation of her wasted love, that +the object of that foolish passion seemed despicable also. She was for +ever weighing Edward Arundel against all the tortures she had endured +for his sake, and for ever finding him wanting. He must have been a +demigod if his perfections could have outweighed so much misery; and +for this reason she was unjust to her cousin, and could not accept him +for that which he really was,--a generous-hearted, candid, honourable +young man (not a great man or a wonderful man),--a brave and +honest-minded soldier, very well worthy of a good woman's love. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Arundel stayed at the Towers, occupying the room which had been his +in John Marchmont's lifetime; and a new existence began for Mary. The +young man was delighted with his old friend's daughter. Among all the +Calcutta belles whom he had danced with at Government-House balls and +flirted with upon the Indian racecourse, he could remember no one as +fascinating as this girl, who seemed as childlike now, in her early +womanhood, as she had been womanly while she was a child. Her naïve +tenderness for himself bewitched and enraptured him. Who could have +avoided being charmed by that pure and innocent affection, which was as +freely given by the girl of eighteen as it had been by the child, and +was unchanged in character by the lapse of years? The young officer had +been so much admired and caressed in Calcutta, that perhaps, by reason +of his successes, he had returned to England heart-whole; and he +abandoned himself, without any _arrière-pensée_, to the quiet happiness +which he felt in Mary Marchmont's society. I do not say that he was +intoxicated by her beauty, which was by no means of the intoxicating +order, or that he was madly in love with her. The gentle fascination of +her society crept upon him before he was aware of its influence. He had +never taken the trouble to examine his own feelings; they were +disengaged,--as free as butterflies to settle upon which flower might +seem the fairest; and he had therefore no need to put himself under a +course of rigorous self-examination. As yet he believed that the +pleasure he now felt in Mary's society was the same order of enjoyment +he had experienced five years before, when he had taught her chess, and +promised her long rambles by the seashore. + +They had no long rambles now in solitary lanes and under flowering +hedgerows beside the waving green corn. Olivia watched them with +untiring eyes. The tortures to which a jealous woman may condemn +herself are not much greater than those she can inflict upon others. +Mrs. Marchmont took good care that her ward and her cousin were not +_too_ happy. Wherever they went, she went also; whenever they spoke, +she listened; whatever arrangement was most likely to please them was +opposed by her. Edward was not coxcomb enough to have any suspicion of +the reason of this conduct on his cousin's part. He only smiled and +shrugged his shoulders; and attributed her watchfulness to an +overstrained sense of her responsibility, and the necessity of +_surveillance_. + +"Does she think me such a villain and a traitor," he thought, "that she +fears to leave me alone with my dead friend's orphan daughter, lest I +should whisper corruption into her innocent ear? How little these good +women know of us, after all! What vulgar suspicions and narrow-minded +fears influence them against us! Are they honourable and honest towards +one another, I wonder, that they can entertain such pitiful doubts of +our honour and honesty?" + +So, hour after hour, and day after day, Olivia Marchmont kept watch and +ward over Edward and Mary. It seems strange that love could blossom in +such an atmosphere; it seems strange that the cruel gaze of those hard +grey eyes did not chill the two innocent hearts, and prevent their free +expansion. But it was not so; the egotism of love was all-omnipotent. +Neither Edward nor Mary was conscious of the evil light in the glance +that so often rested upon them. The universe narrowed itself to the one +spot of earth upon which these two stood side by side. + +Edward Arundel had been more than a month at Marchmont Towers when +Olivia went, upon a hot July evening, to Swampington, on a brief visit +to the Rector,--a visit of duty. She would doubtless have taken Mary +Marchmont with her; but the girl had been suffering from a violent +headache throughout the burning summer day, and had kept her room. +Edward Arundel had gone out early in the morning upon a fishing +excursion to a famous trout-stream seven or eight miles from the +Towers, and was not likely to return until after nightfall. There was +no chance, therefore, of a meeting between Mary and the young officer, +Olivia thought--no chance of any confidential talk which she would not +be by to hear. + +Did Edward Arundel love the pale-faced girl, who revealed her devotion +to him with such childlike unconsciousness? Olivia Marchmont had not +been able to answer that question. She had sounded the young man +several times upon his feelings towards her stepdaughter; but he had +met her hints and insinuations with perfect frankness, declaring that +Mary seemed as much a child to him now as she had appeared nearly nine +years before in Oakley Street, and that the pleasure he took in her +society was only such as he might have felt in that of any innocent and +confiding child. + +"Her simplicity is so bewitching, you know, Livy," he said; "she looks +up in my face, and trusts me with all her little secrets, and tells me +her dreams about her dead father, and all her foolish, innocent +fancies, as confidingly as if I were some playfellow of her own age and +sex. She's so refreshing after the artificial belles of a Calcutta +ballroom, with their stereotyped fascinations and their complete manual +of flirtation, the same for ever and ever. She is such a pretty little +spontaneous darling, with her soft, shy, brown eyes, and her low voice, +which always sounds to me like the cooing of the doves in the +poultry-yard." + +I think that Olivia, in the depth of her gloomy despair, took some +comfort from such speeches as these. Was this frank expression of +regard for Mary Marchmont a token of _love_? No; not as the widow +understood the stormy madness. Love to her had been a dark and terrible +passion, a thing to be concealed, as monomaniacs have sometimes +contrived to keep the secret of their mania, until it burst forth at +last, fatal and irrepressible, in some direful work of wreck and ruin. + +So Olivia Marchmont took an early dinner alone, and drove away from the +Towers at four o'clock on a blazing summer afternoon, more at peace +perhaps than she had been since Edward Arundel's coming. She paid her +dutiful visit to her father, sat with him for some time, talked to the +two old servants who waited upon him, walked two or three times up and +down the neglected garden, and then drove back to the Towers. + +The first object upon which her eyes fell as she entered the hall was +Edward Arundel's fishing-tackle lying in disorder upon an oaken bench +near the broad arched door that opened out into the quadrangle. An +angry flush mounted to her face as she turned upon the servant near +her. + +"Mr. Arundel has come home?" she said. + +"Yes, ma'am, he came in half an hour ago; but he went out again almost +directly with Miss Marchmont." + +"Indeed! I thought Miss Marchmont was in her room?" + +"No, ma'am; she came down to the drawing-room about an hour after you +left. Her head was better, ma'am, she said." + +"And she went out with Mr. Arundel? Do you know which way they went?" + +"Yes, ma'am; I heard Mr. Arundel say he wanted to look at the old +boat-house by the river." + +"And they have gone there?" + +"I think so, ma'am." + +"Very good; I will go down to them. Miss Marchmont must not stop out in +the night-air. The dew is falling already." + +The door leading into the quadrangle was open; and Olivia swept across +the broad threshold, haughty and self-possessed, very stately-looking +in her long black garments. She still wore mourning for her dead +husband. What inducement had she ever had to cast off that sombre +attire; what need had she to trick herself out in gay colours? What +loving eyes would be charmed by her splendour? She went out of the +door, across the quadrangle, under a stone archway, and into the low +stunted wood, which was gloomy even in the summer-time. The setting sun +was shining upon the western front of the Towers; but here all seemed +cold and desolate. The damp mists were rising from the sodden ground +beneath the tree; the frogs were croaking down by the river-side. With +her small white teeth set, and her breath coming in fitful gasps, +Olivia Marchmont hurried to the water's edge, winding in and out +between the trees, tearing her black dress amongst the brambles, +scorning all beaten paths, heedless where she trod, so long as she made +her way speedily to the spot she wanted to reach. + +At last the black sluggish river and the old boat-house came in sight, +between a long vista of ugly distorted trunks and gnarled branches of +pollard oak and willow. The building was dreary and +dilapidated-looking, for the improvements commenced by Edward Arundel +five years ago had never been fully carried out; but it was +sufficiently substantial, and bore no traces of positive decay. Down by +the water's edge there was a great cavernous recess for the shelter of +the boats, and above this there was a pavilion, built of brick and +stone, containing two decent-sized chambers, with latticed windows +overlooking the river. A flight of stone steps with an iron balustrade +led up to the door of this pavilion, which was supported upon the solid +side-walls of the boat-house below. + +In the stillness of the summer twilight Olivia heard the voices of +those whom she came to seek. They were standing down by the edge of the +water, upon a narrow pathway that ran along by the sedgy brink of the +river, and only a few paces from the pavilion. The door of the +boat-house was open; a long-disused wherry lay rotting upon the damp +and mossy flags. Olivia crept into the shadowy recess. The door that +faced the river had fallen from its rusty hinges, and the slimy +woodwork lay in ruins upon the shore. Sheltered by the stone archway +that had once been closed by this door, Olivia listened to the voices +beside the still water. + +Mary Marchmont was standing close to the river's edge; Edward stood +beside her, leaning against the trunk of a willow that hung over the +water. + +"My childish darling," the young man murmured, as if in reply to +something his companion had said, "and so you think, because you are +simple-minded and innocent, I am not to love you. It is your innocence +I love, Polly dear,--let me call you Polly, as I used five years +ago,--and I wouldn't have you otherwise for all the world. Do you know +that sometimes I am almost sorry I ever came back to Marchmont Towers?" + +"Sorry you came back?" cried Mary, in a tone of alarm. "Oh, why do you +say that, Mr. Arundel?" + +"Because you are heiress to eleven thousand a year, Mary, and the +Moated Grange behind us; and this dreary wood, and the river,--the +river is yours, I daresay, Miss Marchmont;--and I wish you joy of the +possession of so much sluggish water and so many square miles of swamp +and fen." + +"But what then?" Mary asked wonderingly. + +"What then? Do you know, Polly darling, that if I ask you to marry me +people will call me a fortune-hunter, and declare that I came to +Marchmont Towers bent upon stealing its heiress's innocent heart, +before she had learned the value of the estate that must go along with +it? God knows they'd wrong me, Polly, as cruelly as ever an honest man +was wronged; for, so long as I have money to pay my tailor and +tobacconist,--and I've more than enough for both of them,--I want +nothing further of the world's wealth. What should I do with all this +swamp and fen, Miss Marchmont--with all that horrible complication of +expired leases to be renewed, and income-taxes to be appealed against, +that rich people have to endure? If you were not rich, Polly, I----" + +He stopped and laughed, striking the toe of his boot amongst the weeds, +and knocking the pebbles into the water. The woman crouching in the +shadow of the archway listened with whitened cheeks and glaring eyes; +listened as she might have listened to the sentence of her death, +drinking in every syllable, in her ravenous desire to lose no breath +that told her of her anguish. + +"If I were not rich!" murmured Mary; "what if I were not rich?" + +"I should tell you how dearly I love you, Polly, and ask you to be my +wife by-and-by." + +The girl looked up at him for a few moments in silence, shyly at first, +and then more boldly, with a beautiful light kindling in her eyes. + +"I love you dearly too, Mr. Arundel," she said at last; "and I would +rather you had my money than any one else in the world; and there was +something in papa's will that made me think--" + +"There was something that made you think he would wish this, Polly," +cried the young man, clasping the trembling little figure to his +breast. "Mr. Paulette sent me a copy of the will, Polly, when he sent +my diamond-ring; and I think there were some words in it that hinted at +such a wish. Your father said he left me this legacy, darling,--I have +his letter still,--the legacy of a helpless girl. God knows I will try +to be worthy of such a trust, Mary dearest; God knows I will be +faithful to my promise, made nine years ago." + +The woman listening in the dark archway sank down upon the damp flags +at her feet, amongst the slimy rotten wood and rusty iron nails and +broken bolts and hinges. She sat there for a long time, not +unconscious, but quite motionless, her white face leaning against the +moss-grown arch, staring blankly out of the black shadows. She sat +there and listened, while the lovers talked in low tender murmurs of +the sorrowful past and of the unknown future; that beautiful untrodden +region, in which they were to go hand in hand through all the long +years of quiet happiness between the present moment and the grave. She +sat and listened till the moonlight faintly shimmered upon the water, +and the footsteps of the lovers died away upon the narrow pathway by +which they went back to the house. + +Olivia Marchmont did not move until an hour after they had gone. Then +she raised herself with an effort, and walked with stiffened limbs +slowly and painfully to the house, and to her own room, where she +locked her door, and flung herself upon the ground in the darkness. + +Mary came to her to ask why she did not come to the drawing-room, and +Mrs. Marchmont answered, with a hoarse voice, that she was ill, and +wished to be alone. Neither Mary, nor the old woman-servant who had +been Olivia's nurse long ago, and who had some little influence over +her, could get any other answer than this. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +DRIVEN AWAY. + + +Mary Marchmont and Edward Arundel were happy. They were happy; and how +should they guess the tortures of that desperate woman, whose benighted +soul was plunged in a black gulf of horror by reason of their innocent +love? How should these two--very children in their ignorance of all +stormy passions, all direful emotions--know that in the darkened +chamber where Olivia Marchmont lay, suffering under some vague illness, +for which the Swampington doctor was fain to prescribe quinine, in +utter unconsciousness as to the real nature of the disease which he was +called upon to cure,--how should they know that in that gloomy chamber +a wicked heart was abandoning itself to all the devils that had so long +held patient watch for this day? + +Yes; the struggle was over. Olivia Marchmont flung aside the cross she +had borne in dull, mechanical obedience, rather than in Christian love +and truth. Better to have been sorrowful Magdalene, forgiven for her +love and tears, than this cold, haughty, stainless woman, who had never +been able to learn the sublime lessons which so many sinners have taken +meekly to heart. The religion which was wanting in the vital principle +of Christianity, the faith which showed itself only in dogged +obedience, failed this woman in the hour of her agony. Her pride arose; +the defiant spirit of the fallen angel asserted its gloomy grandeur. + +"What have I done that I should suffer like this?" she thought. "What +am I that an empty-headed soldier should despise me, and that I should +go mad because of his indifference? Is this the recompense for my long +years of obedience? Is this the reward Heaven bestows upon me for my +life of duty!" + +She remembered the histories of other women,--women who had gone their +own way and had been happy; and a darker question arose in her mind; +almost the question which Job asked in his agony. + +"Is there neither truth nor justice in the dealings of God?" she +thought. "Is it useless to be obedient and submissive, patient and +untiring? Has all my life been a great mistake, which is to end in +confusion and despair?" + +And then she pictured to herself the life that might have been hers if +Edward Arundel had loved her. How good she would have been! The +hardness of her iron nature would have teen melted and subdued. By +force of her love and tenderness for him, she would have learned to be +loving and tender to others. Her wealth of affection for him would have +overflowed in gentleness and consideration for every creature in the +universe. The lurking bitterness which had lain hidden in her heart +ever since she had first loved Edward Arundel, and first discovered his +indifference to her; and the poisonous envy of happier women, who had +loved and were beloved,--would have been blotted away. Her whole nature +would have undergone a wondrous transfiguration, purified and exalted +by the strength of her affection. All this might have come to pass if +he had loved her,--if he had only loved her. But a pale-faced child had +come between her and this redemption; and there was nothing left for +her but despair. + +Nothing but despair? Yes; perhaps something further,--revenge. + +But this last idea took no tangible shape. She only knew that, in the +black darkness of the gulf into which her soul had gone down, there +was, far away somewhere, one ray of lurid light. She only knew this as +yet, and that she hated Mary Marchmont with a mad and wicked hatred. If +she could have thought meanly of Edward Arundel,--if she could have +believed him to be actuated by mercenary motives in his choice of the +orphan girl,--she might have taken some comfort from the thought of his +unworthiness, and of Mary's probable sorrow in the days to come. But +she _could_ not think this. Little as the young soldier had said in the +summer twilight beside the river, there had been that in his tones and +looks which had convinced the wretched watcher of his truth. Mary might +have been deceived by the shallowest pretender; but Olivia's eyes +devoured every glance; Olivia's greedy ears drank in every tone; and +she _knew_ that Edward Arundel loved her stepdaughter. + +She knew this, and she hated Mary Marchmont. What had she done, this +girl, who had never known what it was to fight a battle with her own +rebellious heart? what had she done, that all this wealth of love and +happiness should drop into her lap unsought,--comparatively unvalued, +perhaps? + +John Marchmont's widow lay in her darkened chamber thinking over these +things; no longer fighting the battle with her own heart, but utterly +abandoning herself to her desperation,--reckless, hardened, impenitent. + +Edward Arundel could not very well remain at the Towers while the +reputed illness of his hostess kept her to her room. He went over to +Swampington, therefore, upon a dutiful visit to his uncle; but rode to +the Towers every day to inquire very particularly after his cousin's +progress, and to dawdle on the sunny western terrace with Mary +Marchmont. + +Their innocent happiness needs little description. Edward Arundel +retained a good deal of that boyish chivalry which had made him so +eager to become the little girl's champion in the days gone by. Contact +with the world had not much sullied the freshness of the young man's +spirit. He loved his innocent, childish companion with the purest and +truest devotion; and he was proud of the recollection that in the day +of his poverty John Marchmont had chosen _him_ as the future shelterer +of this tender blossom. + +"You must never grow any older or more womanly, Polly," he said +sometimes to the young mistress of Marchmont Towers. "Remember that I +always love you best when I think of you as the little girl in the +shabby pinafore, who poured out my tea for me one bleak December +morning in Oakley Street." + +They talked a great deal of John Marchmont. It was such a happiness to +Mary to be able to talk unreservedly of her father to some one who had +loved and comprehended him. + +"My stepmamma was very good to poor papa, you know, Edward," she said, +"and of course he was very grateful to her; but I don't think he ever +loved her quite as he loved you. You were the friend of his poverty, +Edward; he never forgot that." + +Once, as they strolled side by side together upon the terrace in the +warm summer noontide, Mary Marchmont put her little hand through her +lover's arm, and looked up shyly in his face. + +"Did papa say that, Edward?" she whispered; "did he really say that?" + +"Did he really say what, darling?" + +"That he left me to you as a legacy?" + +"He did indeed, Polly," answered the young man. "I'll bring you the +letter to-morrow." + +And the next day he showed Mary Marchmont the yellow sheet of +letter-paper and the faded writing, which had once been black and wet +under her dead father's hand. Mary looked through her tears at the old +familiar Oakley-street address, and the date of the very day upon which +Edward Arundel had breakfasted in the shabby lodging. Yes--there were +the words: "The legacy of a child's helplessness is the only bequest I +can leave to the only friend I have." + +"And you shall never know what it is to be helpless while I am near +you, Polly darling," the soldier said, as he refolded his dead friend's +epistle. "You may defy your enemies henceforward, Mary--if you have any +enemies. O, by-the-bye, you have never heard any thing of that Paul +Marchmont, I suppose?" + +"Papa's cousin--Mr Marchmont the artist?" + +"Yes." + +"He came to the reading of papa's will." + +"Indeed! and did you see much of him?" + +"Oh, no, very little. I was ill, you know," the girl added, the tears +rising to her eyes at the recollection of that bitter time,--"I was +ill, and I didn't notice any thing. I know that Mr. Marchmont talked to +me a little; but I can't remember what he said." + +"And he has never been here since?" + +"Never." + +Edward Arundel shrugged his shoulders. This Paul Marchmont could not be +such a designing villain, after all, or surely he would have tried to +push his acquaintance with his rich cousin! + +"I dare say John's suspicion of him was only one of the poor fellow's +morbid fancies," he thought. "He was always full of morbid fancies." + +Mrs. Marchmont's rooms were in the western front of the house; and +through her open windows she heard the fresh young voices of the lovers +as they strolled up and down the terrace. The cavalry officer was +content to carry a watering-pot full of water, for the refreshment of +his young mistress's geraniums in the stone vases on the balustrade, +and to do other under-gardener's work for her pleasure. He talked to +her of the Indian campaign; and she asked a hundred questions about +midnight marches and solitary encampments, fainting camels, lurking +tigers in the darkness of the jungle, intercepted supplies of +provisions, stolen ammunition, and all the other details of the war. + +Olivia arose at last, before the Swampington surgeon's saline draughts +and quinine mixtures had subdued the fiery light in her eyes, or cooled +the raging fever that devoured her. She arose because she could no +longer lie still in her desolation knowing that, for two hours in each +long summer's day, Edward Arundel and Mary Marchmont could be happy +together in spite of her. She came down stairs, therefore, and renewed +her watch--chaining her stepdaughter to her side, and interposing +herself for ever between the lovers. + +The widow arose from her sick-bed an altered woman, as it appeared to +all who knew her. A mad excitement seemed to have taken sudden +possession of her. She flung off her mourning garments, and ordered +silks and laces, velvets and satins, from a London milliner; she +complained of the absence of society, the monotonous dulness of her +Lincolnshire life; and, to the surprise of every one, sent out cards of +invitation for a ball at the Towers in honour of Edward Arundel's +return to England. She seemed to be seized with a desire to do +something, she scarcely cared what, to disturb the even current of her +days. + +During the brief interval between Mrs. Marchmont's leaving her room and +the evening appointed for the ball, Edward Arundel found no very +convenient opportunity of informing his cousin of the engagement +entered into between himself and Mary. He had no wish to hurry this +disclosure; for there was something in the orphan girl's childishness +and innocence that kept all definite ideas of an early marriage very +far away from her lover's mind. He wanted to go back to India, and win +more laurels, to lay at the feet of the mistress of Marchmont Towers. +He wanted to make a name for himself, which should cause the world to +forget that he was a younger son,--a name that the vilest tongue would +never dare to blacken with the epithet of fortune-hunter. + +The young man was silent therefore, waiting for a fitting opportunity +in which to speak to Mary's stepmother. Perhaps he rather dreaded the +idea of discussing his attachment with Olivia; for she had looked at +him with cold angry eyes, and a brow as black as thunder, upon those +occasions on which she had sounded him as to his feelings for Mary. + +"She wants poor Polly to marry some grandee, I dare say," he thought, +"and will do all she can to oppose my suit. But her trust will cease +with Mary's majority; and I don't want my confiding little darling to +marry me until she is old enough to choose for herself, and to choose +wisely. She will be one-and-twenty in three years; and what are three +years? I would wait as long as Jacob for my pet, and serve my fourteen +years' apprenticeship under Sir Charles Napier, and be true to her all +the time." + +Olivia Marchmont hated her stepdaughter. Mary was not slow to perceive +the change in the widow's manner towards her. It had always been cold, +and sometimes severe; but it was now almost abhorrent. The girl shrank +appalled from the sinister light in her stepmother's gray eyes, as they +followed her unceasingly, dogging her footsteps with a hungry and evil +gaze. The gentle girl wondered what she had done to offend her +guardian, and then, being unable to think of any possible delinquency +by which she might have incurred Mrs. Marchmont's displeasure, was fain +to attribute the change in Olivia's manner to the irritation consequent +upon her illness, and was thus more gentle and more submissive than of +old; enduring cruel looks, returning no answer to bitter speeches, but +striving to conciliate the supposed invalid by her sweetness and +obedience. + +But the girl's amiability only irritated the despairing woman. Her +jealousy fed upon every charm of the rival who had supplanted her. That +fatal passion fed upon Edward Arundel's every look and tone, upon the +quiet smile which rested on Mary's face as the girl sat over her +embroidery, in meek silence, thinking of her lover. The self-tortures +which Olivia Marchmont inflicted upon herself were so horrible to bear, +that she turned, with a mad desire for relief, upon those she had the +power to torture. Day by day, and hour by hour, she contrived to +distress the gentle girl, who had so long obeyed her, now by a word, +now by a look, but always with that subtle power of aggravation which +some women possess in such an eminent degree--until Mary Marchmont's +life became a burden to her, or would have so become, but for that +inexpressible happiness, of which her tormentor could not deprive +her,--the joy she felt in her knowledge of Edward Arundel's love. + +She was very careful to keep the secret of her stepmother's altered +manner from the young soldier. Olivia was his cousin, and he had said +long ago that she was to love her. Heaven knows she had tried to do so, +and had failed most miserably; but her belief in Olivia's goodness was +still unshaken. If Mrs. Marchmont was now irritable, capricious, and +even cruel, there was doubtless some good reason for the alteration in +her conduct; and it was Mary's duty to be patient. The orphan girl had +learned to suffer quietly when the great affliction of her father's +death had fallen upon her; and she suffered so quietly now, that even +her lover failed to perceive any symptoms of her distress. How could +she grieve him by telling him of her sorrows, when his very presence +brought such unutterable joy to her? + +So, on the morning of the ball at Marchmont Towers,--the first +entertainment of the kind that had been given in that grim Lincolnshire +mansion since young Arthur Marchmont's untimely death,--Mary sat in her +room, with her old friend Farmer Pollard's daughter, who was now Mrs. +Jobson, the wife of the most prosperous carpenter in Kemberling. Hester +had come up to the Towers to pay a dutiful visit to her young +patroness; and upon this particular occasion Olivia had not cared to +prevent Mary and her humble friend spending half an hour together. Mrs. +Marchmont roamed from room to room upon this day, with a perpetual +restlessness. Edward Arundel was to dine at the Towers, and was to +sleep there after the ball. He was to drive his uncle over from +Swampington, as the Rector had promised to show himself for an hour or +two at his daughter's entertainment. Mary had met her stepmother +several times that morning, in the corridors and on the staircase; but +the widow had passed her in silence, with a dark face, and a shivering, +almost abhorrent gesture. + +The bright July day dragged itself out at last, with hideous slowness +for the desperate woman, who could not find peace or rest in all those +splendid rooms, on all that grassy flat, dry and burning under the +blazing summer sun. She had wandered out upon the waste of barren turf, +with her head bared to the hot sky, and had loitered here and there by +the still pools, looking gloomily at the black tideless water, and +wondering what the agony of drowning was like. Not that she had any +thought of killing herself. No: the idea of death was horrible to her; +for after her death Edward and Mary would be happy. Could she ever find +rest in the grave, knowing this? Could there be any possible extinction +that would blot out her jealous fury? Surely the fire of her hate--it +was no longer love, but hate, that raged in her heart--would defy +annihilation, eternal by reason of its intensity. When the dinner-hour +came, and Edward and his uncle arrived at the Towers, Olivia +Marchmont's pale face was lit up with eyes that flamed like fire; but +she took her accustomed place very quietly, with her father opposite to +her, and Mary and Edward upon either side. + +"I'm sure you're ill, Livy," the young man said; "you're as pale as +death, and your hand is dry and burning. I'm afraid you've not been +obedient to the Swampington doctor." + +Mrs. Marchmont shrugged her shoulders with a short contemptuous laugh. + +"I am well enough," she said. "Who cares whether I am well or ill?" + +Her father looked up at her in mute surprise. The bitterness of her +tone startled and alarmed him; but Mary never lifted her eyes. It was +in such a tone as this that her stepmother had spoken constantly of +late. + +But two or three hours afterwards, when the flats before the house were +silvered by the moonlight, and the long ranges of windows glittered +with the lamps within, Mrs. Marchmont emerged from her dressing-room +another creature, as it seemed. + +Edward and his uncle were walking up and down the great oaken +banqueting-hall, which had been decorated and fitted up as a ballroom +for the occasion, when Olivia crossed the wide threshold of the +chamber. The young officer looked up with an involuntary expression of +surprise. In all his acquaintance with his cousin, he had never seen +her thus. The gloomy black-robed woman was transformed into a +Semiramis. She wore a voluminous dress of a deep claret-coloured +velvet, that glowed with the warm hues of rich wine in the lamplight. +Her massive hair was coiled in a knot at the back of her head, and +diamonds glittered amidst the thick bands that framed her broad white +brow. Her stern classical beauty was lit up by the unwonted splendour +of her dress, and asserted itself as obviously as if she had said, "Am +I a woman to be despised for the love of a pale-faced child?" + +Mary Marchmont came into the room a few minutes after her stepmother. +Her lover ran to welcome her, and looked fondly at her simple dress of +shadowy white crape, and the pearl circlet that crowned her soft brown +hair. The pearls she wore upon this night had been given to her by her +father on her fourteenth birthday. + +Olivia watched the young man as he bent over Mary Marchmont. + +He wore his uniform to-night for the special gratification of his young +mistress, and he was looking down with a tender smile at her childish +admiration of the bullion ornaments upon his coat, and the decoration +he had won in India. + +The widow looked from the two lovers to an antique glass upon an ebony +bureau in a niche opposite to her, which reflected her own face,--her +own face, more beautiful than she had ever seen it before, with a +feverish glow of vivid crimson lighting up her hollow cheeks. + +"I might have been beautiful if he had loved me," she thought; and then +she turned to her father, and began to talk to him of his parishioners, +the old pensioners upon her bounty, whose little histories were so +hatefully familiar to her. Once more she made a feeble effort to tread +the old hackneyed pathway, which she had toiled upon with such weary +feet; but she could not,--she could not. After a few minutes she turned +abruptly from the Rector, and seated herself in a recess of the window, +from which she could see Edward and Mary. + +But Mrs. Marchmont's duties as hostess soon demanded her attention. The +county families began to arrive; the sound of carriage-wheels seemed +perpetual upon the crisp gravel-drive before the western front; the +names of half the great people in Lincolnshire were shouted by the old +servants in the hall. The band in the music-gallery struck up a +quadrille, and Edward Arundel led the youthful mistress of the mansion +to her place in the dance. + +To Olivia that long night seemed all glare and noise and confusion. She +did the honours of the ballroom, she received her guests, she meted out +due attention to all; for she had been accustomed from her earliest +girlhood to the stereotyped round of country society. She neglected no +duty; but she did all mechanically, scarcely knowing what she said or +did in the feverish tumult of her soul. + +Yet, amidst all the bewilderment of her senses, in all the confusion of +her thoughts, two figures were always before her. Wherever Edward +Arundel and Mary Marchmont went, her eyes followed them--her fevered +imagination pursued them. Once, and once only, in the course of that +long night she spoke to her stepdaughter. + +"How often do you mean to dance with Captain Arundel, Miss Marchmont?" +she said. + +But before Mary could answer, her stepmother had moved away upon the +arm of a portly country squire, and the girl was left in sorrowful +wonderment as to the reason of Mrs. Marchmont's angry tone. + +Edward and Mary were standing in one of the deep embayed windows of the +banqueting-hall, when the dancers began to disperse, long after supper. +The girl had been very happy that evening, in spite of her stepmother's +bitter words and disdainful glances. For almost the first time in her +life, the young mistress of Marchmont Towers had felt the contagious +influence of other people's happiness. The brilliantly-lighted +ballroom, the fluttering dresses of the dancers, the joyous music, the +low sound of suppressed laughter, the bright faces which smiled at each +other upon every side, were as new as any thing in fairyland to this +girl, whose narrow life had been overshadowed by the gloomy figure of +her stepmother, for ever interposed between her and the outer world. +The young spirit arose and shook off its fetters, fresh and radiant as +the butterfly that escapes from its chrysalis. The new light of +happiness illumined the orphan's delicate face, until Edward Arundel +began to wonder at her loveliness, as he had wondered once before that +night at the fiery splendour of his cousin Olivia. + +"I had no idea that Olivia was so handsome, or you so pretty, my +darling," he said, as he stood with Mary in the embrasure of the +window. "You look like Titania, the queen of the fairies, Polly, with +your cloudy draperies and crown of pearls." + +The window was open, and Captain Arundel looked wistfully at the broad +flagged quadrangle beautified by the light of the full summer moon. He +glanced back into the room; it was nearly empty now; and Mrs. Marchmont +was standing near the principal doorway, bidding the last of her guests +goodnight. + +"Come into the quadrangle, Polly," he said, "and take a turn with me +under the colonnade. It was a cloister once, I dare say, in the good +old days before Harry the Eighth was king; and cowled monks have paced +up and down under its shadow, muttering mechanical aves and +paternosters, as the beads of their rosaries dropped slowly through +their shrivelled old fingers. Come out into the quadrangle, Polly; all +the people we know or case about are gone; and we'll go out and walk in +the moonlight as true lovers ought." + +The soldier led his young companion across the threshold of the window, +and out into a cloister-like colonnade that ran along one side of the +house. The shadows of the Gothic pillars were black upon the moonlit +flags of the quadrangle, which was as light now as in the day; but a +pleasant obscurity reigned in the sheltered colonnade. + +"I think this little bit of pre-Lutheran masonry is the best of all +your possessions, Polly," the young man said, laughing. "By-and-by, +when I come home from India a general,--as I mean to do, Miss +Marchmont, before I ask you to become Mrs. Arundel,--I shall stroll up +and down here in the still summer evenings, smoking my cheroots. You +will let me smoke out of doors, won't you, Polly? But suppose I should +leave some of my limbs on the banks of the Sutlej, and come limping +home to you with a wooden leg, would you have me then, Mary; or would +you dismiss me with ignominy from your sweet presence, and shut the +doors of your stony mansion upon myself and my calamities? I'm afraid, +from your admiration of my gold epaulettes and silk sash, that glory in +the abstract would have very little attraction for you." + +Mary Marchmont looked up at her lover with widely-opened and wondering +eyes, and the clasp of her hand tightened a little upon his arm. + +"There is nothing that could ever happen to you that would make me love +you less _now_," she said naïvely. "I dare say at first I liked you a +little because you were handsome, and different to every one else I had +ever seen. You were so very handsome, you know," she added +apologetically; "but it was not because of that _only_ that I loved +you. I loved you because papa told me you were good and generous, and +his true friend when he was in cruel need of a friend. Yes; you were +his friend at school, when your cousin, Martin Mostyn, and the other +pupils sneered at him and ridiculed him. How can I ever forget that, +Edward? How can I ever love you enough to repay you for that?" In the +enthusiasm of her innocent devotion, she lifted her pure young brow, +and the soldier bent down and kissed that white throne of all virginal +thoughts, as the lovers stood side by side; half in the moonlight, half +in the shadow. + +Olivia Marchmont came into the embrasure of the open window, and took +her place there to watch them. + +She came again to the torture. From the remotest end of the long +banqueting-room she had seen the two figures glide out into the +moonlight. She had seen them, and had gone on with her courteous +speeches, and had repeated her formula of hospitality, with the fire in +her heart devouring and consuming her. She came again, to watch and to +listen, and to endure her self-imposed agonies--as mad and foolish in +her fatal passion as some besotted wretch who should come willingly to +the wheel upon which his limbs had been well-nigh broken, and +supplicate for a renewal of the torture. She stood rigid and motionless +in the shadow of the arched window, hiding herself, as she had hidden +in the dark cavernous recess by the river; she stood and listened to +all the childish babble of the lovers as they loitered up and down the +vaulted cloister. How she despised them, in the haughty superiority of +an intellect which might have planned a revolution, or saved a sinking +state! What bitter scorn curled her lip, as their foolish talk fell +upon her ear! They talked like Florizel and Perdita, like Romeo and +Juliet, like Paul and Virginia; and they talked a great deal of +nonsense, no doubt--soft harmonious foolishness, with little more +meaning in it than there is in the cooing of doves, but tender and +musical, and more than beautiful, to each other's ears. A tigress, +famished and desolate, and but lately robbed of her whelps, would not +be likely to listen very patiently to the communing of a pair of +prosperous ringdoves. Olivia Marchmont listened with her brain on fire, +and the spirit of a murderess raging in her breast. What was she that +she should be patient? All the world was lost to her. She was thirty +years of age, and she had never yet won the love of any human being. +She was thirty years of age, and all the sublime world of affection was +a dismal blank for her. From the outer darkness in which she stood, she +looked with wild and ignorant yearning into that bright region which +her accursed foot had never trodden, and saw Mary Marchmont wandering +hand-in-hand with the only man _she_ could have loved--the only +creature who had ever had the power to awake the instinct of womanhood +in her soul. + +She stood and waited until the clock in the quadrangle struck the first +quarter after three: the moon was fading out, and the colder light of +early morning glimmered in the eastern sky. + +"I mustn't keep you out here any longer, Polly," Captain Arundel said, +pausing near the window. "It's getting cold, my dear, and it's high +time the mistress of Marchmont should retire to her stony bower. +Good-night, and God bless you, my darling! I'll stop in the quadrangle +and smoke a cheroot before I go to my room. Your stepmamma will be +wondering what has become of you, Mary, and we shall have a lecture +upon the proprieties to-morrow; so, once more, good-night." + +He kissed the fair young brow under the coronal of pearls, stopped to +watch Mary while she crossed the threshold of the open window, and then +strolled away into the flagged court, with his cigar-case in his hand. + +Olivia Marchmont stood a few paces from the window when her +stepdaughter entered the room, and Mary paused involuntarily, terrified +by the cruel aspect of the face that frowned upon her: terrified by +something that she had never seen before,--the horrible darkness that +overshadows the souls of the lost. + +"Mamma!" the girl cried, clasping her hands in sudden affright--"mamma! +why do you look at me like that? Why have you been so changed to me +lately? I cannot tell you how unhappy I have been. Mamma, mamma! what +have I done to offend you?" + +Olivia Marchmont grasped the trembling hands uplifted entreatingly to +her, and held them in her own,--held them as if in a vice. She stood +thus, with her stepdaughter pinioned in her grasp, and her eyes fixed +upon the girl's face. Two streams of lurid light seemed to emanate from +those dilated gray eyes; two spots of crimson blazed in the widow's +hollow cheeks. + +"_What_ have you done?" she cried. "Do you think I have toiled for +nothing to do the duty which I promised my dead husband to perform for +your sake? Has all my care of you been so little, that I am to stand by +now and be silent, when I see what you are? Do you think that I am +blind, or deaf, or besotted; that you defy me and outrage me, day by +day, and hour by hour, by your conduct?" + +"Mamma, mamma! what do you mean?" + +"Heaven knows how rigidly you have been educated; how carefully you +have been secluded from all society, and sheltered from every +influence, lest harm or danger should come to you. I have done my duty, +and I wash my hands of you. The debasing taint of your mother's low +breeding reveals itself in your every action. You run after my cousin +Edward Arundel, and advertise your admiration of him, to himself, and +every creature who knows you. You fling yourself into his arms, and +offer him yourself and your fortune: and in your low cunning you try to +keep the secret from me, your protectress and guardian, appointed by +the dead father whom you pretend to have loved so dearly." + +Olivia Marchmont still held her stepdaughter's wrists in her iron +grasp. The girl stared wildly at her with her trembling lips apart. She +began to think that the widow had gone mad. + +"I blush for you--I am ashamed of you!" cried Olivia. It seemed as if +the torrent of her words burst forth almost in spite of herself. "There +is not a village girl in Kemberling, there is not a scullerymaid in +this house, who would have behaved as you have done. I have watched +you, Mary Marchmont, remember, and I know all. I know your wanderings +down by the river-side. I heard you--yes, by the Heaven above me!--I +heard you offer yourself to my cousin." + +Mary drew herself up with an indignant gesture, and over the whiteness +of her face there swept a sudden glow of vivid crimson that faded as +quickly as it came. Her submissive nature revolted against her +stepmother's horrible tyranny. The dignity of innocence arose and +asserted itself against Olivia's shameful upbraiding. + +"If I offered myself to Edward Arundel, mamma," she said, "it was +because we love each other very truly, and because I think and believe +papa wished me to marry his old friend." + +"Because _we_ love each other very truly!" Olivia echoed in a tone of +unmitigated scorn. "You can answer for Captain Arundel's heart, I +suppose, then, as well as for your own? You must have a tolerably good +opinion of yourself, Miss Marchmont, to be able to venture so much. +Bah!" she cried suddenly, with a disdainful gesture of her head; "do +you think your pitiful face has won Edward Arundel? Do you think he has +not had women fifty times your superior, in every quality of mind and +body, at his feet out yonder in India? Are you idiotic and besotted +enough to believe that it is anything but your fortune this man cares +for? Do you know the vile things people will do, the lies they will +tell, the base comedies of guilt and falsehood they will act, for the +love of eleven thousand a year? And you think that he loves you! Child, +dupe, fool! are you weak enough to be deluded by a fortune-hunter's +pretty pastoral flatteries? Are you weak enough to be duped by a man of +the world, worn out and jaded, no doubt, as to the world's +pleasures--in debt perhaps, and in pressing need of money, who comes +here to try and redeem his fortunes by a marriage with a semi-imbecile +heiress?" + +Olivia Marchmont released her hold of the shrinking girl, who seemed to +have become transfixed to the spot upon which she stood, a pale statue +of horror and despair. + +The iron will of the strong and resolute woman rode roughshod over the +simple confidence of the ignorant girl. Until this moment, Mary +Marchmont had believed in Edward Arundel as implicitly as she had +trusted in her dead father. But now, for the first time, a dreadful +region of doubt opened before her; the foundations of her world reeled +beneath her feet. Edward Arundel a fortune-hunter! This woman, whom she +had obeyed for five weary years, and who had acquired that ascendancy +over her which a determined and vigorous nature must always exercise +over a morbidly sensitive disposition, told her that she had been +deluded. This woman laughed aloud in bitter scorn of her credulity. +This woman, who could have no possible motive for torturing her, and +who was known to be scrupulously conscientious in all her dealings, +told her, as plainly as the most cruel words could tell a cruel truth, +that her own charms could not have won Edward Arundel's affection. + +All the beautiful day-dreams of her life melted away from her. She had +never questioned herself as to her worthiness of her lover's devotion. +She had accepted it as she accepted the sunshine and the starlight--as +something beautiful and incomprehensible, that came to her by the +beneficence of God, and not through any merits of her own. But as the +fabric of her happiness dwindled away, the fatal spell exercised over +the girl's weak nature by Olivia's violent words evoked a hundred +doubts. How should he love her? why should he love her in preference to +every other woman in the world? Set any woman to ask herself this +question, and you fill her mind with a thousand suspicions, a thousand +jealous doubts of her lover, though he were the truest and noblest in +the universe. + +Olivia Marchmont stood a few paces from her stepdaughter, watching her +while the black shadow of doubt blotted every joy from her heart, and +utter despair crept slowly into her innocent breast. The widow expected +that the girl's self-esteem would assert itself--that she would +contradict and defy the traducer of her lover's truth; but it was not +so. When Mary spoke again, her voice was low and subdued, her manner as +submissive as it had been two or three years before, when she had stood +before her stepmother, waiting to repeat some difficult lesson. + +"I dare say you are right, mamma," she said in a low dreamy tone, +looking not at her stepmother, but straight before her into vacancy, as +if her tearless eyes ware transfixed by the vision of all her shattered +hopes, filling with wreck and ruin the desolate foreground of a blank +future. "I dare say you are right, mamma; it was very foolish of me to +think that Edward--that Captain Arundel could care for me, for--for--my +own sake; but if--if he wants my fortune, I should wish him to have it. +The money will never be any good to me, you know, mamma; and he was so +kind to papa in his poverty--so kind! I will never, never believe +anything against him;--but I couldn't expect him to love me. I +shouldn't have offered to be his wife; I ought only to have offered him +my fortune." + +She heard her lover's footstep in the quadrangle without, in the +stillness of the summer morning, and shivered at the sound. It was less +than a quarter of an hour since she had been walking with him up and +down that cloistered way, in which his footsteps were echoing with a +hollow sound; and now----. Even in the confusion of her anguish, Mary +Marchmont could not help wondering, as she thought in how short a time +the happiness of a future might be swept away into chaos. + +"Good-night, mamma," she said presently, with an accent of weariness. +She did not look at her stepmother (who had turned away from her now, +and had walked towards the open window), but stole quietly from the +room, crossed the hall, and went up the broad staircase to her own +lonely chamber. Heiress though she was, she had no special attendant of +her own: she had the privilege of summoning Olivia's maid whenever she +had need of assistance; but she retained the simple habits of her early +life, and very rarely troubled Mrs. Marchmont's grim and elderly +Abigail. + +Olivia stood looking out into the stony quadrangle. It was broad +daylight now; the cocks were crowing in the distance, and a skylark +singing somewhere in the blue heaven, high up above Marchmont Towers. +The faded garlands in the banqueting-room looked wan in the morning +sunshine; the lamps were burning still, for the servants waited until +Mrs. Marchmont should have retired, before they entered the room. +Edward Arundel was walking up and down the cloister, smoking his second +cigar. + +He stopped presently, seeing his cousin at the window. + +"What, Livy!" he cried, "not gone to bed yet?" + +"No; I am going directly." + +"Mary has gone, I hope?" + +"Yes; she has gone. Good-night." + +"Good _morning_, my dear Mrs. Marchmont," the young man answered, +laughing. "If the partridges were in, I should be going out shooting, +this lovely morning, instead of crawling ignominiously to bed, like a +worn-out reveller who has drunk too much sparkling hock. I like the +still best, by-the-bye,--the Johannisberger, that poor John's +predecessor imported from the Rhine. But I suppose there is no help for +it, and I must go to bed in the face of all that eastern glory. I +should be mounting for a gallop on the race-course, if I were in +Calcutta. But I'll go to bed, Mrs Marchmont, and humbly await your +breakfast-hour. They're stacking the new hay in the meadows beyond the +park. Don't you smell it?" + +Olivia shrugged her shoulders with an impatient frown. Good heavens! +how frivolous and senseless this man's talk seemed to her! She was +plunging her soul into an abyss of sin and ruin for his sake; and she +hated him, and rebelled against him, because he was so little worthy of +the sacrifice. + +"Good morning," she said abruptly; "I'm tired to death." + +She moved away, and left him. + +Five minutes afterwards, he went up the great oak-staircase after her, +whistling a serenade from _Fra Diavolo_ as he went. He was one of those +people to whom life seems all holiday. Younger son though he was, he +had never known any of the pitfalls of debt and difficulty into which +the junior members of rich families are so apt to plunge headlong in +early youth, and from which they emerge enfeebled and crippled, to +endure an after-life embittered by all the shabby miseries which wait +upon aristocratic pauperism. Brave, honourable, and simple-minded, +Edward Arundel had fought the battle of life like a good soldier, and +had carried a stainless shield when the fight was thickest, and victory +hard to win. His sunshiny nature won him friends, and his better +qualities kept them. Young men trusted and respected him; and old men, +gray in the service of their country, spoke well of him. His handsome +face was a pleasant decoration at any festival; his kindly voice and +hearty laugh at a dinner-table were as good as music in the gallery at +the end of the banqueting-chamber. + +He had that freshness of spirit which is the peculiar gift of some +natures; and he had as yet never known sorrow, except, indeed, such +tender and compassionate sympathy as he had often felt for the +calamities of others. + +Olivia Marchmont heard her cousin's cheery tenor voice as he passed her +chamber. "How happy he is!" she thought. "His very happiness is one +insult the more to me." + +The widow paced up and down her room in the morning sunshine, thinking +of the things she had said in the banqueting-hall below, and of her +stepdaughter's white despairing face. What had she done? What was the +extent of the sin she had committed? Olivia Marchmont asked herself +these two questions. The old habit of self-examination was not quite +abandoned yet. She sinned, and then set herself to work to try and +justify her sin. + +"How should he love her?" she thought. "What is there in her pale +unmeaning face that should win the love of a man who despises me?" + +She stopped before a cheval-glass, and surveyed herself from head to +foot, frowning angrily at her handsome image, hating herself for her +despised beauty. Her white shoulders looked like stainless marble +against the rich ruby darkness of her velvet dress. She had snatched +the diamond ornaments from her head, and her long black hair fell about +her bosom in thick waveless tresses. + +"I am handsomer than she is, and cleverer; and I love him better, ten +thousand times, than she loves him," Olivia Marchmont thought, as she +turned contemptuously from the glass. "Is it likely, then, that he +cares for anything but her fortune? Any other woman in the world would +have argued as I argued to-night. Any woman would have believed that +she did her duty in warning this besotted girl against her folly. What +do I know of Edward Arundel that should lead me to think him better or +nobler than other men? and how many men sell themselves for the love of +a woman's wealth! Perhaps good may come of my mad folly, after all; and +I may have saved this girl from a life of misery by the words I have +spoken to-night." + +The devils--for ever lying in wait for this woman, whose gloomy pride +rendered her in some manner akin to themselves--may have laughed at her +as she argued thus with herself. + +She lay down at last to sleep, worn out by the excitement of the long +night, and to dream horrible dreams. The servants, with the exception +of one who rose betimes to open the great house, slept long after the +unwonted festival. Edward Arundel slumbered as heavily as any member of +that wearied household; and thus it was that there was no one in the +way to see a shrinking, trembling figure creep down the +sunlit-staircase, and steal across the threshold of the wide hall door. + +There was no one to see Mary Marchmont's silent flight from the gaunt +Lincolnshire mansion in which she had known so little real happiness. +There was no one to comfort the sorrow-stricken girl in her despair and +desolation of spirit. She crept away, like some escaped prisoner, in +the early morning, from the house which the law called her own. + +And the hand of the woman whom John Marchmont had chosen to be his +daughter's friend and counsellor was the hand which drove that daughter +from the shelter of her home. The voice of her whom the weak father had +trusted in, fearful to confide his child into the hand of God, but +blindly confident in his own judgment--was the voice which had uttered +the lying words, whose every syllable had been as a separate dagger +thrust in the orphan girl's lacerated heart. It was her father,--her +father, who had placed this woman over her, and had entailed upon her +the awful agony that drove her out into an unknown world, careless +whither she went in her despair. + + + + +END OF VOL. I. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume I (of +3), by Mary E. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/34539-8.zip b/34539-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..48b98f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/34539-8.zip diff --git a/34539.txt b/34539.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a061eca --- /dev/null +++ b/34539.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7337 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume I (of 3), by +Mary E. Braddon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume I (of 3) + +Author: Mary E. Braddon + +Release Date: December 1, 2010 [EBook #34539] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY, VOL I *** + + + + +Produced by Clare Graham, using scans from the Internet Archive + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + +BY [M.E. Braddon] THE AUTHOR OF +"LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," +ETC. ETC. ETC. + + +IN THREE VOLUMES. + +VOL.I. + + +Published by Tinsley Brothers of London in 1863 (third edition). + + +THIS STORY + +Is Dedicated + +TO + +MY MOTHER + + + + +CONTENTS. + CHAPTER I. THE MAN WITH THE BANNER. + CHAPTER II. LITTLE MARY. + CHAPTER III. ABOUT THE LINCOLNSHIRE PROPERTY. + CHAPTER IV. GOING AWAY. + CHAPTER V. MARCHMONT TOWERS. + CHAPTER VI. THE YOUNG SOLDIER'S RETURN. + CHAPTER VII. OLIVIA. + CHAPTER VIII. "MY LIFE IS COLD, AND DARK, AND DREARY." + CHAPTER IX. "WHEN SHALL I CEASE TO BE ALL ALONE?" + CHAPTER X. MARY'S STEPMOTHER. + CHAPTER XI. THE DAY OF DESOLATION. + CHAPTER XII. PAUL. + CHAPTER XIII. OLIVIA'S DESPAIR. + CHAPTER XIV. DRIVEN AWAY. + + + + +JOHN MARCHMONT'S LEGACY. + + + + +VOLUME I. + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE MAN WITH THE BANNER. + + +The history of Edward Arundel, second son of Christopher Arundel +Dangerfield Arundel, of Dangerfield Park, Devonshire, began on a +certain dark winter's night upon which the lad, still a schoolboy, went +with his cousin, Martin Mostyn, to witness a blank-verse tragedy at one +of the London theatres. + +There are few men who, looking back at the long story of their lives, +cannot point to one page in the record of the past at which the actual +history of life began. The page may come in the very middle of the +book, perhaps; perhaps almost at the end. But let it come where it +will, it is, after all, only the actual commencement. At an appointed +hour in man's existence, the overture which has been going on ever +since he was born is brought to a sudden close by the sharp vibration +of the prompter's signal-bell; the curtain rises, and the drama of life +begins. Very insignificant sometimes are the first scenes of the +play,--common-place, trite, wearisome; but watch them closely, and +interwoven with every word, dimly recognisable in every action, may be +seen the awful hand of Destiny. The story has begun: already we, the +spectators, can make vague guesses at the plot, and predicate the +solemn climax; it is only the actors who are ignorant of the meaning of +their several parts, and who are stupidly reckless of the obvious +catastrophe. + +The story of young Arundel's life began when he was a light-hearted, +heedless lad of seventeen, newly escaped for a brief interval from the +care of his pastors and masters. + +The lad had come to London on a Christmas visit to his father's sister, +a worldly-minded widow, with a great many sons and daughters, and an +income only large enough to enable her to keep up the appearances of +wealth essential to the family pride of one of the Arundels of +Dangerfield. + +Laura Arundel had married a Colonel Mostyn, of the East India Company's +service, and had returned from India after a wandering life of some +years, leaving her dead husband behind her, and bringing away with her +five daughters and three sons, most of whom had been born under canvas. + +Mrs. Mostyn bore her troubles bravely, and contrived to do more with +her pension, and an additional income of four hundred a year from a +small fortune of her own, than the most consummate womanly management +can often achieve. Her house in Montague Square was elegantly +furnished, her daughters were exquisitely dressed, her sons sensibly +educated, her dinners well cooked. She was not an agreeable woman; she +was perhaps, if any thing, too sensible,--so very sensible as to be +obviously intolerant of anything like folly in others. She was a good +mother; but by no means an indulgent one. She expected her sons to +succeed in life, and her daughters to marry rich men; and would have +had little patience with any disappointment in either of these +reasonable expectations. She was attached to her brother Christopher +Arundel, and she was very well pleased to spend the autumn months at +Dangerfield, where the hunting-breakfasts gave her daughters an +excellent platform for the exhibition of charming demi-toilettes and +social and domestic graces, perhaps more dangerous to the susceptible +hearts of rich young squires than the fascinations of a _valse a deux +temps_ or an Italian scena. + +But the same Mrs. Mostyn, who never forgot to keep up her +correspondence with the owner of Dangerfield Park, utterly ignored the +existence of another brother, a certain Hubert Arundel, who had, +perhaps, much more need of her sisterly friendship than the wealthy +Devonshire squire. Heaven knows, the world seemed a lonely place to +this younger son, who had been educated for the Church, and was fain to +content himself with a scanty living in one of the dullest and dampest +towns in fenny Lincolnshire. His sister might have very easily made +life much more pleasant to the Rector of Swampington and his only +daughter; but Hubert Arundel was a great deal too proud to remind her +of this. If Mrs. Mostyn chose to forget him,--the brother and sister +had been loving friends and dear companions long ago, under the beeches +at Dangerfield,--she was welcome to do so. She was better off than he +was; and it is to be remarked, that if A's income is three hundred a +year, and B's a thousand, the chances are as seven to three that B will +forget any old intimacy that may have existed between himself and A. +Hubert Arundel had been wild at college, and had put his autograph +across so many oblong slips of blue paper, acknowledging value received +that had been only half received, that by the time the claims of all +the holders of these portentous morsels of stamped paper had been +satisfied, the younger son's fortune had melted away, leaving its +sometime possessor the happy owner of a pair of pointers, a couple of +guns by crack makers, a good many foils, single-sticks, boxing-gloves, +wire masks, basket helmets, leathern leg-guards, and other +paraphernalia, a complete set of the old _Sporting Magazine_, from 1792 +to the current year, bound in scarlet morocco, several boxes of very +bad cigars, a Scotch terrier, and a pipe of undrinkable port. + +Of all these possessions, only the undrinkable port now remained to +show that Hubert Arundel had once had a decent younger son's fortune, +and had succeeded most admirably in making ducks and drakes of it. The +poor about Swampington believed in the sweet red wine, which had been +specially concocted for Israelitish dealers in jewelry, cigars, +pictures, wines, and specie. The Rector's pensioners smacked their lips +over the mysterious liquid and confidently affirmed that it did them +more good than all the doctor's stuff the parish apothecary could send +them. Poor Hubert Arundel was well content to find that at least this +scanty crop of corn had grown up from the wild oats he had sown at +Cambridge. The wine pleased the poor creatures who drank it, and was +scarcely likely to do them any harm; and there was a reasonable +prospect that the last bottle would by-and-by pass out of the rectory +cellars, and with it the last token of that bitterly regretted past. + +I have no doubt that Hubert Arundel felt the sting of his only sister's +neglect, as only a poor and proud man can feel such an insult; but he +never let any confession of this sentiment escape his lips; and when +Mrs. Mostyn, being seized with a fancy for doing this forgotten brother +a service, wrote him a letter of insolent advice, winding up with an +offer to procure his only child a situation as nursery governess, the +Rector of Swampington only crushed the missive in his strong hand, and +flung it into his study-fire, with a muttered exclamation that sounded +terribly like an oath. + +"A _nursery_ governess!" he repeated, savagely; "yes; an underpaid +drudge, to teach children their A B C, and mend their frocks and make +their pinafores. I should like Mrs. Mostyn to talk to my little Livy +for half an hour. I think my girl would have put the lady down so +completely by the end of that time, that we should never hear any more +about nursery governesses." + +He laughed bitterly as he repeated the obnoxious phrase; but his laugh +changed to a sigh. + +Was it strange that the father should sigh as he remembered how he had +seen the awful hand of Death fall suddenly upon younger and stronger +men than himself? What if he were to die, and leave his only child +unmarried? What would become of her, with her dangerous gifts, with her +fatal dowry of beauty and intellect and pride? + +"But she would never do any thing wrong," the father thought. "Her +religious principles are strong enough to keep her right under any +circumstances, in spite of any temptation. Her sense of duty is more +powerful than any other sentiment. She would never be false to that; +she would never be false to that." + +In return for the hospitality of Dangerfield Park, Mrs. Mostyn was in +the habit of opening her doors to either Christopher Arundel or his +sons, whenever any one of the three came to London. Of course she +infinitely preferred seeing Arthur Arundel, the eldest son and heir, +seated at her well-spread table, and flirting with one of his pretty +cousins, than to be bored with his rackety younger brother, a noisy lad +of seventeen, with no better prospects than a commission in her +Majesty's service, and a hundred and fifty pounds a year to eke out his +pay; but she was, notwithstanding, graciously pleased to invite Edward +to spend his Christmas holidays in her comfortable household; and it +was thus it came to pass that on the 29th of December, in the year +1838, the story of Edward Arundel's life began in a stage-box at Drury +Lane Theatre. + +The box had been sent to Mrs. Mostyn by the fashionable editor of a +fashionable newspaper; but that lady and her daughters being previously +engaged, had permitted the two boys to avail themselves of the +editorial privilege. + +The tragedy was the dull production of a distinguished literary +amateur, and even the great actor who played the principal character +could not make the performance particularly enlivening. He certainly +failed in impressing Mr. Edward Arundel, who flung himself back in his +chair and yawned dolefully during the earlier part of the +entertainment. + +"It ain't particularly jolly, is it, Martin?" he said naively, "Let's +go out and have some oysters, and come in again just before the +pantomime begins." + +"Mamma made me promise that we wouldn't leave the theatre till we left +for good, Ned," his cousin answered; "and then we're to go straight +home in a cab." + +Edward Arundel sighed. + +"I wish we hadn't come till half-price, old fellow," he said drearily. +"If I'd known it was to be a tragedy, I wouldn't have come away from +the Square in such a hurry. I wonder why people write tragedies, when +nobody likes them." + +He turned his back to the stage, and folded his arms upon the velvet +cushion of the box preparatory to indulging himself in a deliberate +inspection of the audience. Perhaps no brighter face looked upward that +night towards the glare and glitter of the great chandelier than that +of the fair-haired lad in the stage-box. His candid blue eyes beamed +with a more radiant sparkle than any of the myriad lights in the +theatre; a nimbus of golden hair shone about his broad white forehead; +glowing health, careless happiness, truth, good-nature, honesty, boyish +vivacity, and the courage of a young lion,--all were expressed in the +fearless smile, the frank yet half-defiant gaze. Above all, this lad of +seventeen looked especially what he was,--a thorough gentleman. Martin +Mostyn was prim and effeminate, precociously tired of life, +precociously indifferent to everything but his own advantage; but the +Devonshire boy's talk was still fragrant with the fresh perfume of +youth and innocence, still gay with the joyous recklessness of early +boyhood. He was as impatient for the noisy pantomime overture, and the +bright troops of fairies in petticoats of spangled muslin, as the most +inveterate cockney cooling his snub-nose against the iron railing of +the gallery. He was as ready to fall in love with the painted beauty of +the ill-paid ballet-girls, as the veriest child in the wide circle of +humanity about him. Fresh, untainted, unsuspicious, he looked out at +the world, ready to believe in everything and everybody. + +"How you do fidget, Edward!" whispered Martin Mostyn peevishly; "why +don't you look at the stage? It's capital fun." + +"Fun!" + +"Yes; I don't mean the tragedy you know, but the supernumeraries. Did +you ever see such an awkward set of fellows in all your life? There's a +man there with weak legs and a heavy banner, that I've been watching +all the evening. He's more fun than all the rest of it put together." + +Mr. Mostyn, being of course much too polite to point out the man in +question, indicated him with a twitch of his light eyebrows; and Edward +Arundel, following that indication, singled out the banner-holder from +a group of soldiers in medieval dress, who had been standing wearily +enough upon one side of the stage during a long, strictly private and +confidential dialogue between the princely hero of the tragedy and one +of his accommodating satellites. The lad uttered a cry of surprise as +he looked at the weak-legged banner-holder. + +Mr. Mostyn turned upon his cousin with some vexation. + +"I can't help it, Martin," exclaimed young Arundel; "I can't be +mistaken--yes--poor fellow, to think that he should come to this!--you +haven't forgotten him, Martin, surely?" + +"Forgotten what--forgotten whom? My dear Edward, what _do_ you mean?" + +"John Marchmont, the poor fellow who used to teach us mathematics at +Vernon's; the fellow the governor sacked because----" + +"Well, what of him?" + +"The poor chap with the banner!" exclaimed the boy, in a breathless +whisper; "don't you see, Martin? didn't you recognise him? It's +Marchmont, poor old Marchmont, that we used to chaff, and that the +governor sacked because he had a constitutional cough, and wasn't +strong enough for his work." + +"Oh, yes, I remember him well enough," Mr. Mostyn answered, +indifferently. "Nobody could stand his cough, you know; and he was a +vulgar fellow, into the bargain." + +"He wasn't a vulgar fellow," said Edward indignantly;--"there, there's +the curtain down again;--he belonged to a good family in Lincolnshire, +and was heir-presumptive to a stunning fortune. I've heard him say so +twenty times." + +Martin Mostyn did not attempt to repress an involuntary sneer, which +curled his lips as his cousin spoke. + +"Oh, I dare say you've heard _him_ say so, my dear boy," he murmured +superciliously. + +"Ah, and it was true," cried Edward; "he wasn't a fellow to tell lies; +perhaps he'd have suited Mr. Vernon better if he had been. He had bad +health, and was weak, and all that sort of thing; but he wasn't a snob. +He showed me a signet-ring once that he used to wear on his +watch-chain----" + +"A _silver_ watch-chain," simpered Mr. Mostyn, "just like a +carpenter's." + +"Don't be such a supercilious cad, Martin. He was very kind to me, poor +Marchmont; and I know I was always a nuisance to him, poor old fellow; +for you know I never could get on with Euclid. I'm sorry to see him +here. Think, Martin, what an occupation for him! I don't suppose he +gets more than nine or ten shillings a week for it." + +"A shilling a night is, I believe, the ordinary remuneration of a +stage-soldier. They pay as much for the real thing as for the sham, you +see; the defenders of our country risk their lives for about the same +consideration. Where are you going, Ned?" + +Edward Arundel had left his place, and was trying to undo the door of +the box. + +"To see if I can get at this poor fellow." + +"You persist in declaring, then, that the man with the weak legs is our +old mathematical drudge? Well, I shouldn't wonder. The fellow was +coughing all through the five acts, and that's uncommonly like +Marchmont. You're surely not going to renew your acquaintance with +him?" + +But young Arundel had just succeeded in opening the door, and he left +the box without waiting to answer his cousin's question. He made his +way very rapidly out of the theatre, and fought manfully through the +crowds who were waiting about the pit and gallery doors, until he found +himself at the stage-entrance. He had often looked with reverent wonder +at the dark portal; but he had never before essayed to cross the sacred +threshold. But the guardian of the gate to this theatrical paradise, +inhabited by fairies at a guinea a week, and baronial retainers at a +shilling a night, is ordinarily a very inflexible individual, not to be +corrupted by any mortal persuasion, and scarcely corruptible by the +more potent influence of gold or silver. Poor Edward's half-a-crown had +no effect whatever upon the stern door-keeper, who thanked him for his +donation, but told him that it was against his orders to let anybody go +up-stairs. + +"But I want to see some one so particularly," the boy said eagerly. +"Don't you think you could manage it for me, you know? He's an old +friend of mine,--one of the supernu--what's-its-names?" added Edward, +stumbling over the word. "He carried a banner in the tragedy, you know; +and he's got such an awful cough, poor chap." + +"Ze man who garried ze panner vith a gough," said the door-keeper +reflectively. He was an elderly German, and had kept guard at that +classic doorway for half-a-century or so; "Parking Cheremiah." + +"Barking Jeremiah!" + +"Yes, sir. They gall him Parking pecause he's berbetually goughin' his +poor veag head off; and they gall him Cheremiah pecause he's alvays +belangholy." + +"Oh, do let me see him," cried Mr. Edward Arundel. "I know you can +manage it; so do, that's a good fellow. I tell you he's a friend of +mine, and quite a gentleman too. Bless you, there isn't a move in +mathematics he isn't up to; and he'll come into a fortune some of these +days--" + +"Yaase," interrupted the door-keeper, sarcastically, "Zey bake von of +him pegause off dad." + +"And can I see him?" + +"I phill dry and vind him vor you. Here, you Chim," said the +door-keeper, addressing a dirty youth, who had just nailed an official +announcement of the next morning's rehearsal upon the back of a +stony-hearted swing-door, which was apt to jam the fingers of the +uninitiated,--"vot is ze name off yat zuber vith ze pad gough, ze man +zay gall Parking." + +"Oh, that's Morti-more." + +"To you know if he's on in ze virsd zene?" + +"Yes. He's one of the demons; but the scene's just over. Do you want +him?" + +"You gan dake ub zis young chendleman's gard do him, and dell him to +slib town here if he has kod a vaid," said the door-keeper. + +Mr. Arundel handed his card to the dirty boy. + +"He'll come to me fast enough, poor fellow," he muttered. "I usen't to +chaff him as the others did, and I'm glad I didn't, now." + +Edward Arundel could not easily forget that one brief scrutiny in which +he had recognised the wasted face of the schoolmaster's hack, who had +taught him mathematics only two years before. Could there be anything +more piteous than that degrading spectacle? The feeble frame, scarcely +able to sustain that paltry one-sided banner of calico and tinsel; the +two rude daubs of coarse vermilion upon the hollow cheeks; the black +smudges that were meant for eyebrows; the wretched scrap of horsehair +glued upon the pinched chin in dismal mockery of a beard; and through +all this the pathetic pleading of large hazel eyes, bright with the +unnatural lustre of disease, and saying perpetually, more plainly than +words can speak, "Do not look at me; do not despise me; do not even +pity me. It won't last long." + +That fresh-hearted schoolboy was still thinking of this, when a wasted +hand was laid lightly and tremulously on his arm, and looking up he saw +a man in a hideous mask and a tight-fitting suit of scarlet and gold +standing by his side. + +"I'll take off my mask in a minute, Arundel," said a faint voice, that +sounded hollow and muffled within a cavern of pasteboard and +wickerwork. "It was very good of you to come round; very, very good!" + +"I was so sorry to see you here, Marchmont; I knew you in a moment, in +spite of the disguise." + +The supernumerary had struggled out of his huge head-gear by this time, +and laid the fabric of papier-mache and tinsel carefully aside upon a +shelf. He had washed his face before putting on the mask, for he was +not called upon to appear before a British public in martial semblance +any more upon that evening. The pale wasted face was interesting and +gentlemanly, not by any means handsome, but almost womanly in its +softness of expression. It was the face of a man who had not yet seen +his thirtieth birthday; who might never live to see it, Edward Arundel +thought mournfully. + +"Why do you do this, Marchmont?" the boy asked bluntly. + +"Because there was nothing else left for me to do," the stage-demon +answered with a sad smile. "I can't get a situation in a school, for my +health won't suffer me to take one; or it won't suffer any employer to +take me, for fear of my falling ill upon his hands, which comes to the +same thing; so I do a little copying for the law-stationers, and this +helps out that, and I get on as well as I can. I wouldn't so much mind +if it wasn't for--" + +He stopped suddenly, interrupted by a paroxysm of coughing. + +"If it wasn't for whom, old fellow?" + +"My poor little girl; my poor little motherless Mary." + +Edward Arundel looked grave, and perhaps a little ashamed of himself. +He had forgotten until this moment that his old tutor had been left a +widower at four-and-twenty, with a little daughter to support out of +his scanty stipend. + +"Don't be down-hearted, old fellow," the lad whispered, tenderly; +"perhaps I shall be able to help you, you know. And the little girl can +go down to Dangerfield; I know my mother would take care of her, and +will keep her there till you get strong and well. And then you might +start a fencing-room, or a shooting-gallery, or something of that sort, +at the West End; and I'd come to you, and bring lots of fellows to you, +and you'd get on capitally, you know." + +Poor John Marchmont, the asthmatic supernumerary, looked perhaps the +very last person in the world whom it could be possible to associate +with a pair of foils, or a pistol and a target; but he smiled faintly +at his old pupil's enthusiastic talk. + +"You were always a good fellow, Arundel," he said, gravely. "I don't +suppose I shall ever ask you to do me a service; but if, by-and-by, +this cough makes me knock under, and my little Polly should be +left--I--I think you'd get your mother to be kind to her,--wouldn't +you, Arundel?" + +A picture rose before the supernumerary's weary eyes as he said this; +the picture of a pleasant lady whose description he had often heard +from the lips of a loving son, a rambling old mansion, wide-spreading +lawns, and long arcades of oak and beeches leading away to the blue +distance. If this Mrs. Arundel, who was so tender and compassionate and +gentle to every red-cheeked cottage-girl who crossed her +pathway,--Edward had told him this very often,--would take compassion +also upon this little one! If she would only condescend to see the +child, the poor pale neglected flower, the fragile lily, the frail +exotic blossom, that was so cruelly out of place upon the bleak +pathways of life! + +"If that's all that troubles you," young Arundel cried eagerly, "you +may make your mind easy, and come and have some oysters. We'll take +care of the child. I'll adopt her, and my mother shall educate her, and +she shall marry a duke. Run away, now, old fellow, and change your +clothes, and come and have oysters, and stout out of the pewter." + +Mr. Marchmont shook his head. + +"My time's just up," he said; "I'm on in the next scene. It was very +kind of you to come round, Arundel; but this isn't exactly the best +place for you. Go back to your friends, my dear boy, and don't think +any more of me. I'll write to you some day about little Mary." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind," exclaimed the boy. "You'll give me +your address instanter, and I'll come to see you the first thing +to-morrow morning, and you'll introduce me to little Mary; and if she +and I are not the best friends in the world, I shall never again boast +of my successes with lovely woman. What's the number, old fellow?" + +Mr. Arundel had pulled out a smart morocco pocket-book and a gold +pencil-case. + +"Twenty-seven, Oakley Street, Lambeth. But I'd rather you wouldn't +come, Arundel; your friends wouldn't like it." + +"My friends may go hang themselves. I shall do as I like, and I'll be +with you to breakfast, sharp ten." + +The supernumerary had no time to remonstrate. The progress of the +music, faintly audible from the lobby in which this conversation had +taken place, told him that his scene was nearly on. + +"I can't stop another moment. Go back to your friends, Arundel. Good +night. God bless you!" + +"Stay; one word. The Lincolnshire property--" + +"Will never come to me, my boy," the demon answered sadly, through his +mask; for he had been busy re-investing himself in that demoniac guise. +"I tried to sell my reversion, but the Jews almost laughed in my face +when they heard me cough. Good night." + +He was gone, and the swing-door slammed in Edward Arundel's face. The +boy hurried back to his cousin, who was cross and dissatisfied at his +absence. Martin Mostyn had discovered that the ballet-girls were all +either old or ugly, the music badly chosen, the pantomime stupid, the +scenery a failure. He asked a few supercilious questions about his old +tutor, but scarcely listened to Edward's answers; and was intensely +aggravated with his companion's pertinacity in sitting out the comic +business--in which poor John Marchmont appeared and re-appeared; now as +a well-dressed passenger carrying a parcel, which he deliberately +sacrificed to the felonious propensities of the clown; now as a +policeman, now as a barber, now as a chemist, now as a ghost; but +always buffeted, or cajoled, or bonneted, or imposed upon; always +piteous, miserable, and long-suffering; with arms that ached from +carrying a banner through five acts of blank-verse weariness, with a +head that had throbbed under the weight of a ponderous edifice of +pasteboard and wicker, with eyes that were sore with the evil influence +of blue-fire and gunpowder smoke, with a throat that had been poisoned +by sulphurous vapours, with bones that were stiff with the playful +pummelling of clown and pantaloon; and all for--a shilling a night! + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +LITTLE MARY. + + +Poor John Marchmont had given his address unwillingly enough to his old +pupil. The lodging in Oakley Street was a wretched back-room upon the +second-floor of a house whose lower regions were devoted to that +species of establishment commonly called a "ladies' wardrobe." The poor +gentleman, the teacher of mathematics, the law-writer, the Drury-Lane +supernumerary, had shrunk from any exposure of his poverty; but his +pupil's imperious good-nature had overridden every objection, and John +Marchmont awoke upon the morning after the meeting at Drury-Lane to the +rather embarrassing recollection that he was to expect a visitor to +breakfast with him. + +How was he to entertain this dashing, high-spirited young schoolboy, +whose lot was cast in the pleasant pathways of life, and who was no +doubt accustomed to see at his matutinal meal such luxuries as John +Marchmont had only beheld in the fairy-like realms of comestible beauty +exhibited to hungry foot-passengers behind the plate-glass windows of +Italian warehouses? + +"He has hams stewed in Madeira, and Perigord pies, I dare say, at his +Aunt Mostyn's," John thought, despairingly. "What can I give him to +eat?" + +But John Marchmont, after the manner of the poor, was apt to +over-estimate the extravagance of the rich. If he could have seen the +Mostyn breakfast then preparing in the lower regions of Montague +Square, he might have been considerably relieved; for he would have +only beheld mild infusions of tea and coffee--in silver vessels, +certainly--four French rolls hidden under a glistening damask napkin, +six triangular fragments of dry toast, cut from a stale half-quartern, +four new-laid eggs, and about half a pound of bacon cut into rashers of +transcendental delicacy. Widow ladies who have daughters to marry do +not plunge very deep into the books of Messrs. Fortnum and Mason. + +"He used to like hot rolls when I was at Vernon's," John thought, +rather more hopefully; "I wonder whether he likes hot rolls still?" + +Pondering thus, Mr. Marchmont dressed himself,--very neatly, very +carefully; for he was one of those men whom even poverty cannot rob of +man's proudest attribute, his individuality. He made no noisy protest +against the humiliations to which he was compelled to submit; he +uttered no boisterous assertions of his own merit; he urged no +clamorous demand to be treated as a gentleman in his day of misfortune; +but in his own mild, undemonstrative way he did assert himself, quite +as effectually as if he had raved all day upon the hardship of his lot, +and drunk himself mad and blind under the pressure of his calamities. +He never abandoned the habits which had been peculiar to him from his +childhood. He was as neat and orderly in his second-floor-back as he +had been seven or eight years before in his simple apartments at +Cambridge. He did not recognise that association which most men +perceive between poverty and shirt-sleeves, or poverty and beer. He was +content to wear threadbare cloth, but adhered most obstinately to a +prejudice in favour of clean linen. He never acquired those lounging +vagabond habits peculiar to some men in the day of trouble. Even +amongst the supernumeraries of Drury Lane, he contrived to preserve his +self-respect; if they nicknamed him Barking Jeremiah, they took care +only to pronounce that playful sobriquet when the gentleman-super was +safely out of hearing. He was so polite in the midst of his reserve, +that the person who could wilfully have offended him must have been +more unkindly than any of her Majesty's servants. It is true, that the +great tragedian, on more than one occasion, apostrophised the +weak-kneed banner-holder as "BEAST" when the super's cough had +peculiarly disturbed his composure; but the same great man gave poor +John Marchmont a letter to a distinguished physician, compassionately +desiring the relief of the same pulmonary affection. If John Marchmont +had not been prompted by his own instincts to struggle against the evil +influences of poverty, he would have done battle sturdily for the sake +of one who was ten times dearer to him than himself. + +If he _could_ have become a swindler or a reprobate,--it would have +been about as easy for him to become either as to have burst at once, +and without an hour's practice, into a full-blown Leotard or +Olmar,--his daughter's influence would have held him back as securely +as if the slender arms twined tenderly about him had been chains of +adamant forged by an enchanter's power. + +How could he be false to his little one, this helpless child, who had +been confided to him in the darkest hour of his existence; the hour in +which his wife had yielded to the many forces arrayed against her in +life's battle, and had left him alone in the world to fight for his +little girl? + +"If I were to die, I think Arundel's mother would be kind to her," John +Marchmont thought, as he finished his careful toilet. "Heaven knows, I +have no right to ask or expect such a thing; but Polly will be rich +by-and-by, perhaps, and will be able to repay them." + +A little hand knocked lightly at the door of his room while he was +thinking this, and a childish voice said, + +"May I come in, papa?" + +The little girl slept with one of the landlady's children, in a room +above her father's. John opened the door, and let her in. The pale +wintry sunshine, creeping in at the curtainless window near which Mr. +Marchmont sat, shone full upon the child's face as she came towards +him. It was a small, pale face, with singularly delicate features, a +tiny straight nose, a pensive mouth, and large thoughtful hazel eyes. +The child's hair fell loosely upon her shoulders; not in those +corkscrew curls so much affected by mothers in the humbler walks of +life, nor yet in those crisp undulations lately adopted in Belgravian +nurseries; but in soft silken masses, only curling at the extreme end +of each tress. Miss Marchmont--she was always called Miss Marchmont in +that Oakley Street household--wore her brown-stuff frock and scanty +diaper pinafore as neatly as her father wore his threadbare coat and +darned linen. She was very pretty, very lady-like, very interesting; +but it was impossible to look at her without a vague feeling of pain, +that was difficult to understand. You knew, by-and-by, why you were +sorry for this little girl. She had never been a child. That divine +period of perfect innocence,--innocence of all sorrow and trouble, +falsehood and wrong,--that bright holiday-time of the soul, had never +been hers. The ruthless hand of poverty had snatched away from her the +gift which God had given her in her cradle; and at eight years old she +was a woman,--a woman invested with all that is most beautiful amongst +womanly attributes--love, tenderness, compassion, carefulness for +others, unselfish devotion, uncomplaining patience, heroic endurance. +She was a woman by reason of all these virtues; but she was no longer a +child. At three years old she had bidden farewell for ever to the +ignorant selfishness, the animal enjoyment of childhood, and had +learned what it was to be sorry for poor papa and mamma; and from that +first time of awakening to the sense of pity and love, she had never +ceased to be the comforter of the helpless young husband who was so +soon to be left wifeless. + +John had been compelled to leave his child, in order to get a living +for her and for himself in the hard service of Mr. Laurence Vernon, the +principal of the highly select and expensive academy at which Edward +Arundel and Martin Mostyn had been educated. But he had left her in +good hands; and when the bitter day of his dismissal came, he was +scarcely as sorry as he ought to have been for the calamity which +brought him back to his little Mary. It is impossible for any words of +mine to tell how much he loved the child; but take into consideration +his hopeless poverty, his sensitive and reserved nature, his utter +loneliness, the bereavement that had cast a shadow upon his youth, and +you will perhaps understand an affection that was almost morbid in its +intensity, and which was reciprocated most fully by its object. The +little girl loved her father _too much_. When he was with her, she was +content to sit by his side, watching him as he wrote; proud to help +him, if even by so much as wiping his pens or handing him his +blotting-paper; happy to wait upon him, to go out marketing for him, to +prepare his scanty meals, to make his tea, and arrange and re-arrange +every object in the slenderly furnished second-floor back-room. They +talked sometimes of the Lincolnshire fortune,--the fortune which +_might_ come to Mr. Marchmont, if three people, whose lives when Mary's +father had last heard of them, were each worth three times his own +feeble existence, would be so obliging as to clear the way for the +heir-at-law, by taking an early departure to the churchyard. A more +practical man than John Marchmont would have kept a sharp eye upon +these three lives, and by some means or other contrived to find out +whether number one was consumptive, or number two dropsical, or number +three apoplectic; but John was utterly incapable of any such +Machiavellian proceeding. I think he sometimes beguiled his weary walks +between Oakley Street and Drury Lane by the dreaming of such childish +day-dreams as I should be almost ashamed to set down upon this sober +page. The three lives might all happen to be riding in the same express +upon the occasion of a terrible collision; but the poor fellow's gentle +nature shrank appalled before the vision he had invoked. He could not +sacrifice a whole train-full of victims, even for little Mary. He +contented himself with borrowing a "Times" newspaper now and then, and +looking at the top of the second column, with the faint hope that he +should see his own name in large capitals, coupled with the +announcement that by applying somewhere he might hear of something to +his advantage. He contented himself with this, and with talking about +the future to little Mary in the dim firelight. They spent long hours +in the shadowy room, only lighted by the faint flicker of a pitiful +handful of coals; for the commonest dip-candles are +sevenpence-halfpenny a pound, and were dearer, I dare say, in the year +'38. Heaven knows what splendid castles in the air these two +simple-hearted creatures built for each other's pleasure by that +comfortless hearth. I believe that, though the father made a pretence +of talking of these things only for the amusement of his child, he was +actually the more childish of the two. It was only when he left that +fire-lit room, and went back into the hard, reasonable, commonplace +world, that he remembered how foolish the talk was, and how it was +impossible--yes, impossible--that he, the law-writer and supernumerary, +could ever come to be master of Marchmont Towers. + +Poor little Mary was in this less practical than her father. She +carried her day-dreams into the street, until all Lambeth was made +glorious by their supernal radiance. Her imagination ran riot in a +vision of a happy future, in which her father would be rich and +powerful. I am sorry to say that she derived most of her ideas of +grandeur from the New Cut. She furnished the drawing-room at Marchmont +Towers from the splendid stores of an upholsterer in that thoroughfare. +She laid flaming Brussels carpets upon the polished oaken floors which +her father had described to her, and hung cheap satin damask of +gorgeous colours before the great oriel windows. She put gilded vases +of gaudy artificial flowers on the high carved mantel-pieces in the old +rooms, and hung a disreputable gray parrot--for sale at a +greengrocer's, and given to the use of bad language--under the stone +colonnnade at the end of the western wing. She appointed the +tradespeople who should serve the far-away Lincolnshire household; the +small matter of distance would, of course, never stand in the way of +her gratitude and benevolence. Her papa would employ the civil +greengrocer who gave such excellent halfpennyworths of watercresses; +the kind butterman who took such pains to wrap up a quarter of a pound +of the best eighteenpenny fresh butter for the customer whom he always +called "little lady;" the considerate butcher who never cut _more_ than +the three-quarters of a pound of rump-steak, which made an excellent +dinner for Mr. Marchmont and his little girl. Yes, all these people +should be rewarded when the Lincolnshire property came to Mary's papa. +Miss Marchmont had some thoughts of building a shop close to Marchmont +Towers for the accommodating butcher, and of adopting the greengrocer's +eldest daughter for her confidante and companion. Heaven knows how many +times the little girl narrowly escaped being run over while walking the +material streets in some ecstatic reverie such as this; but Providence +was very careful of the motherless girl, and she always returned safely +to Oakley Street with her pitiful little purchases of tea and sugar, +butter and meat. You will say, perhaps, that at least these foolish +day-dreams were childish; but I maintain still, that Mary's soul had +long ago bade adieu to infancy, and that even in these visions she was +womanly; for she was always thoughtful of others rather than of +herself, and there was a great deal more of the practical business of +life mingled with the silvery web of her fancies than there should have +been so soon after her eighth birthday. At times, too, an awful horror +would quicken the pulses of her loving heart as she heard the hacking +sound of her father's cough; and a terrible dread would seize her,--the +fear that John Marchmont might never live to inherit the Lincolnshire +fortune. The child never said her prayers without adding a little +extempore supplication, that she might die when her father died. It was +a wicked prayer, perhaps; and a clergyman might have taught her that +her life was in the hands of Providence; and that it might please Him +who had created her to doom her to many desolate years of loneliness; +and that it was not for her, in her wretched and helpless ignorance, to +rebel against His divine will. I think if the Archbishop of Canterbury +had driven from Lambeth Palace to Oakley Street to tell little Mary +this, he would have taught her in vain; and that she would have fallen +asleep that night with the old prayer upon her lips, the fond foolish +prayer that the bonds which love had woven so firmly might never be +roughly broken by death. + +Miss Marchmont heard the story of last night's meeting with great +pleasure, though it must be owned she looked a little grave when she +was told that the generous-hearted school-boy was coming to breakfast; +but her gravity was only that of a thoughtful housekeeper, who ponders +ways and means, and even while you are telling her the number and +quality of your guests, sketches out a rough ground-plan of her dishes, +considers the fish in season, and the soups most fitting to precede +them, and balances the contending advantages of Palestine and Julienne +or Hare and Italian. + +"A 'nice' breakfast you say, papa," she said, when her father had +finished speaking; "then we must have watercresses, _of course_." + +"And hot rolls, Polly dear. Arundel was always fond of hot rolls." + +"And hot rolls, four for threepence-halfpenny in the Cut."--(I am +ashamed to say that this benighted child talked as deliberately of the +"Cut" as she might have done of the "Row.")--"There'll be one left for +tea, papa; for we could never eat four rolls. They'll take _such_ a lot +of butter, though." + +The little housekeeper took out an antediluvian bead-purse, and began +to examine her treasury. Her father handed all his money to her, as he +would have done to his wife; and Mary doled him out the little sums he +wanted,--money for half an ounce of tobacco, money for a pint of beer. +There were no penny papers in those days, or what a treat an occasional +"Telegraph" would have been to poor John Marchmont! + +Mary had only one personal extravagance. She read novels,--dirty, +bloated, ungainly volumes,--which she borrowed from a snuffy old woman +in a little back street, who charged her the smallest hire ever known +in the circulating-library business, and who admired her as a wonder of +precocious erudition. The only pleasure the child knew in her father's +absence was the perusal of these dingy pages; she neglected no duty, +she forgot no tender office of ministering care for the loved one who +was absent; but when all the little duties had been finished, how +delicious it was to sit down to "Madeleine the Deserted," or "Cosmo the +Pirate," and to lose herself far away in illimitable regions, peopled +by wandering princesses in white satin, and gentlemanly bandits, who +had been stolen from their royal fathers' halls by vengeful hordes of +gipsies. During these early years of poverty and loneliness, John +Marchmont's daughter stored up, in a mind that was morbidly sensitive +rather than strong, a terrible amount of dim poetic sentiment; the +possession of which is scarcely, perhaps, the best or safest dower for +a young lady who has life's journey all before her. + +At half-past nine o'clock, all the simple preparations necessary for +the reception of a visitor had been completed by Mr. Marchmont and his +daughter. All vestiges of John's bed had disappeared; leaving, it is +true, rather a suspicious-looking mahogany chest of drawers to mark the +spot where once a bed had been. The window had been opened, the room +aired and dusted, a bright little fire burned in the shining grate, and +the most brilliant of tin tea-kettles hissed upon the hob. The white +table-cloth was darned in several places; but it was a remnant of the +small stock of linen with which John had begun married life; and the +Irish damask asserted its superior quality, in spite of many darns, as +positively as Mr. Marchmont's good blood asserted itself in spite of +his shabby coat. A brown teapot full of strong tea, a plate of French +rolls, a pat of fresh butter, and a broiled haddock, do not compose a +very epicurean repast; but Mary Marchmont looked at the humble +breakfast as a prospective success. + +"We could have haddocks every day at Marchmont Towers, couldn't we, +papa?" she said naively. + +But the little girl was more than delighted when Edward Arundel dashed +up the narrow staircase, and burst into the room, fresh, radiant, +noisy, splendid, better dressed even than the waxen preparations of +elegant young gentlemen exhibited at the portal of a great outfitter in +the New Cut, and yet not at all like either of those red-lipped types +of fashion. How delighted the boy declared himself with every thing! He +had driven over in a cabriolet, and he was awfully hungry, he informed +his host. The rolls and watercresses disappeared before him as if by +magic; little Mary shivered at the slashing cuts he made at the butter; +the haddock had scarcely left the gridiron before it was no more. + +"This is ten times better than Aunt Mostyn's skinny breakfasts," the +young gentleman observed candidly. "You never get enough with her. Why +does she say, 'You won't take another egg, will you, Edward?' if she +wants me to have one? You should see our hunting-breakfasts at +Dangerfield, Marchmont. Four sorts of claret, and no end of Moselle and +champagne. You shall go to Dangerfield some day, to see my mother, Miss +Mary." + +He called her "Miss Mary," and seemed rather shy of speaking to her. +Her womanliness impressed him in spite of himself. He had a fancy that +she was old enough to feel the humiliation of her father's position, +and to be sensitive upon the matter of the two-pair back; and he was +sorry the moment after he had spoken of Dangerfield. + +"What a snob I am!" he thought; "always bragging of home." + +But Mr. Arundel was not able to stop very long in Oakley Street, for +the supernumerary had to attend a rehearsal at twelve o'clock; so at +half-past eleven John Marchmont and his pupil went out together, and +little Mary was left alone to clear away the breakfast, and perform the +rest of her household duties. + +She had plenty of time before her, so she did not begin at once, but +sat upon a stool near the fender, gazing dreamily at the low fire. + +"How good and kind he is!" she thought; "just like Cosmo,--only Cosmo +was dark; or like Reginald Ravenscroft,--but then he was dark too. I +wonder why the people in novels are always dark? How kind he is to +papa! Shall we ever go to Dangerfield, I wonder, papa and I? Of course +I wouldn't go without papa." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +ABOUT THE LINCOLNSHIRE PROPERTY. + + +While Mary sat absorbed in such idle visions as these, Mr. Marchmont +and his old pupil walked towards Waterloo Bridge together. + +"I'll go as far as the theatre with you, Marchmont," the boy said; +"it's my holidays now, you know, and I can do as I like. I am going to +a private tutor in another month, and he's to prepare me for the army. +I want you to tell me all about that Lincolnshire property, old boy. Is +it anywhere near Swampington?" + +"Yes; within nine miles." + +"Goodness gracious me! Lord bless my soul! what an extraordinary +coincidence! My uncle Hubert's Rector of Swampington--such a hole! I go +there sometimes to see him and my cousin Olivia. Isn't she a stunner, +though! Knows more Greek and Latin than I, and more mathematics than +you. Could eat our heads off at any thing." + +John Marchmont did not seem very much impressed by the coincidence that +appeared so extraordinary to Edward Arundel; but, in order to oblige +his friend, he explained very patiently and lucidly how it was that +only three lives stood between him and the possession of Marchmont +Towers, and all lands and tenements appertaining thereto. + +"The estate's a very large one," he said finally; "but the idea of _my_ +ever getting it is, of course, too preposterous." + +"Good gracious me! I don't see that at all," exclaimed Edward with +extraordinary vivacity. "Let me see, old fellow; if I understand your +story right, this is how the case stands: your first cousin is the +present possessor of Marchmont Towers; he has a son, fifteen years of +age, who may or may not marry; only one son, remember. But he has also +an uncle--a bachelor uncle, and your uncle, too--who, by the terms of +your grandfather's will, must get the property before you can succeed +to it. Now, this uncle is an old man: so of course _he'll_ die soon. +The present possessor himself is a middle-aged man; so I shouldn't +think _he_ can be likely to last long. I dare say he drinks too much +port, or hunts, or something of that sort; goes to sleep after dinner, +and does all manner of apoplectic things, I'll be bound. Then there's +the son, only fifteen, and not yet marriageable; consumptive, I dare +say. Now, will you tell me the chances are not six to six he dies +unmarried? So you see, my dear old boy, you're sure to get the fortune; +for there's nothing to keep you out of it, except--" + +"Except three lives, the worst of which is better than mine. It's kind +of you to look at it in this sanguine way, Arundel; but I wasn't born +to be a rich man. Perhaps, after all, Providence has used me better +than I think. I mightn't have been happy at Marchmont Towers. I'm a +shy, awkward, humdrum fellow. If it wasn't for Mary's sake--" + +"Ah, to be sure!" cried Edward Arundel. "You're not going to forget all +about--Miss Marchmont!" He was going to say "little Mary," but had +checked himself abruptly at the sudden recollection of the earnest +hazel eyes that had kept wondering watch upon his ravages at the +breakfast-table. "I'm sure Miss Marchmont's born to be an heiress. I +never saw such a little princess." + +"What!" demanded John Marchmont sadly, "in a darned pinafore and a +threadbare frock?" + +The boy's face flushed, almost indignantly, as his old master said +this. + +"You don't think I'm such a snob as to admire a lady"--he spoke thus of +Miss Mary Marchmont, yet midway between her eighth and ninth +birthday--"the less because she isn't rich? But of course your daughter +will have the fortune by-and-by, even if--" + +He stopped, ashamed of his want of tact; for he knew John would divine +the meaning of that sudden pause. + +"Even if I should die before Philip Marchmont," the teacher of +mathematics answered, quietly. "As far as that goes, Mary's chance is +as remote as my own. The fortune can only come to her in the event of +Arthur dying without issue, or, having issue, failing to cut off the +entail, I believe they call it." + +"Arthur! that's the son of the present possessor?" + +"Yes. If I and my poor little girl, who is delicate like her mother, +should die before either of these three men, there is another who will +stand in my shoes, and will look out perhaps more eagerly than I have +done for his chances of getting the property." + +"Another!" exclaimed Mr. Arundel. "By Jove, Marchmont, it's the most +complicated affair I ever heard of. It's worse than those sums you used +to set me in barter: 'If A. sells B. 999 Stilton cheeses at 9 1/2_d_ a +pound,' and all that sort of thing, you know. Do make me understand it, +old fellow, if you can." + +John Marchmont sighed. + +"It's a wearisome story, Arundel," he said. "I don't know why I should +bore you with it." + +"But you don't bore me with it," cried the boy energetically. "I'm +awfully interested in it, you know; and I could walk up and down here +all day talking about it." + +The two gentlemen had passed the Surrey toll-gate of Waterloo Bridge by +this time. The South-Western Terminus had not been built in the year +'38, and the bridge was about the quietest thoroughfare any two +companions confidentially inclined could have chosen. The shareholders +knew this, to their cost. + +Perhaps Mr. Marchmont might have been beguiled into repeating the old +story, which he had told so often in the dim firelight to his little +girl; but the great clock of St. Paul's boomed forth the twelve +ponderous strokes that told the hour of noon, and a hundred other +steeples upon either side of the water made themselves clamorous with +the same announcement. + +"I must leave you, Arundel," the supernumerary said hurriedly; he had +just remembered that it was time for him to go and be browbeaten by a +truculent stage-manager. "God bless you, my dear boy! It was very good +of you to want to see me, and the sight of your fresh face has made me +very happy. I _should_ like you to understand all about the +Lincolnshire property. God knows there's small chance of its ever +coming to me or to my child; but when I am dead and gone, Mary will be +left alone in the world, and it would be some comfort to me to know +that she was not without _one_ friend--generous and disinterested like +you, Arundel,--who, if the chance _did_ come, would see her righted." + +"And so I would," cried the boy eagerly. His face flushed, and his eyes +fired. He was a preux chevalier already, in thought, going forth to do +battle for a hazel-eyed mistress. + +"I'll _write_ the story, Arundel," John Marchmont said; "I've no time +to tell it, and you mightn't remember it either. Once more, good-bye; +once more, God bless you!" + +"Stop!" exclaimed Edward Arundel, flushing a deeper red than +before,--he had a very boyish habit of blushing,--"stop, dear old boy. +You must borrow this of me, please. I've lots of them. I should only +spend it on all sorts of bilious things; or stop out late and get +tipsy. You shall pay me with interest when you get Marchmont Towers. I +shall come and see you again soon. Good-bye." + +The lad forced some crumpled scrap of paper into his old tutor's hand, +bolted through the toll-bar, and jumped into a cabriolet, whose +high-stepping charger was dawdling along Lancaster Place. + +The supernumerary hurried on to Drury Lane as fast as his weak legs +could carry him. He was obliged to wait for a pause in the rehearsal +before he could find an opportunity of looking at the parting gift +which his old pupil had forced upon him. It was a crumpled and rather +dirty five-pound note, wrapped round two half-crowns, a shilling, and +half-a-sovereign. + +The boy had given his friend the last remnant of his slender stock of +pocket-money. John Marchmont turned his face to the dark wing that +sheltered him, and wept silently. He was of a gentle and rather womanly +disposition, be it remembered; and he was in that weak state of health +in which a man's eyes are apt to moisten, in spite of himself, under +the influence of any unwonted emotion. + +He employed a part of that afternoon in writing the letter which he had +promised to send to his boyish friend:-- + +"MY DEAR ARUNDEL, + +"My purpose in writing to you to-day is so entirely connected with the +future welfare of my beloved and only child, that I shall carefully +abstain from any subject not connected with her interests. I say +nothing, therefore, respecting your conduct of this morning, which, +together with my previous knowledge of your character, has decided me +upon confiding to you the doubts and fears which have long tormented me +upon the subject of my darling's future. + +"I am a doomed man, Arundel! The doctors have told me this; but they +have told me also that, though I can never escape the sentence of death +which was passed upon me long ago, I may live for some years if I live +the careful life which only a rich man can lead. If I go on carrying +banners and breathing sulphur, I cannot last long. My little girl will +be left penniless, but not quite friendless; for there are humble +people, relatives of her poor mother, who would help her kindly, I am +sure, in their own humble way. The trials which I fear for my orphan +girl are not so much the trials of poverty as the dangers of wealth. If +the three men who, on my death, would alone stand between Mary and the +Lincolnshire property die childless, my poor darling will become the +only obstacle in the pathway of a man whom, I will freely own to you, I +distrust. + +"My father, John Marchmont, was the third of four brothers. The eldest, +Philip, died leaving one son, also called Philip, and the present +possessor of Marchmont Towers. The second, Marmaduke, is still alive, a +bachelor. The third, John, left four children, of whom I alone survive. +The fourth, Paul, left a son and two daughters. The son is an artist, +exercising his profession now in London; one of the daughters is +married to a parish surgeon, who practises at Stanfield, in +Lincolnshire; the other is an old maid, and entirely dependent upon her +brother. + +"It is this man, Paul Marchmont the artist, whom I fear. + +"Do not think me weak, or foolishly suspicious, Arundel, when I tell +you that the very thought of this man brings the cold sweat upon my +forehead, and seems to stop the beating of my heart. I know that this +is a prejudice, and an unworthy one. I do not believe Paul Marchmont is +a good man; but I can assign no sufficient reason for my hatred and +terror of him. It is impossible for you, a frank and careless boy, to +realise the feelings of a man who looks at his only child, and +remembers that she may soon be left, helpless and defenceless, to fight +the battle of life with a bad man. Sometimes I pray to God that the +Marchmont property may never come to my child after my death; for I +cannot rid myself of the thought--may Heaven forgive me for its +unworthiness!--that Paul Marchmont would leave no means untried, +however foul, to wrest the fortune from her. I dare say worldly people +would laugh at me for writing this letter to you, my dear Arundel; but +I address myself to the best friend I have,--the only creature I know +whom the influence of a bad man is never likely to corrupt. _Noblesse +oblige!_ I am not afraid that Edward Dangerfield Arundel will betray +any trust, however foolish, that may have been confided to him. + +"Perhaps, in writing to you thus, I may feel something of that blind +hopefulness--amid the shipwreck of all that commonly gives birth to +hope--which the mariner cast away upon some desert island feels, when +he seals his simple story in a bottle, and launches it upon the waste +of waters that close him in on every side. Before my little girl is +four years older, you will be a man, Arundel--with a man's intellect, a +man's courage, and, above all, a man's keen sense of honour. So long as +my darling remains poor, her humble friends will be strong enough to +protect her; but if ever Providence should think fit to place her in a +position of antagonism to Paul Marchmont,--for he would look upon any +one as an enemy who stood between him and fortune,--she would need a +far more powerful protector than any she could find amongst her poor +mother's relatives. Will _you_ be that protector, Edward Arundel? I am +a drowning man, you see, and catch at the frailest straw that floats +past me. I believe in you, Edward, as much as I distrust Paul +Marchmont. If the day ever comes in which my little girl should have to +struggle with this man, will you help her to fight the battle? It will +not be an easy one. + +"Subjoined to this letter I send you an extract from the copy of my +grandfather's will, which will explain to you how he left his property. +Do not lose either the letter or the extract. If you are willing to +undertake the trust which I confide to you to-day, you may have need to +refer to them after my death. The legacy of a child's helplessness is +the only bequest which I can leave to the only friend I have. + +"JOHN MARCHMONT. + +"27, OAKLEY STREET, LAMBETH, + +"_December_ 30_th_, 1838. + + * * * * * + +"EXTRACT FROM THE WILL OF PHILIP MARCHMONT, SENIOR, OF MARCHMONT +TOWERS. + +"'I give and devise all that my estate known as Marchmont Towers and +appurtenances thereto belonging to the use of my eldest son Philip +Marchmont during his natural life without impeachment of waste and from +and after his decease then to the use of my grandson Philip the first +son of my said son Philip during the term of his natural life without +impeachment of waste and after the decease of my said grandson Philip +to the use of the first and every other son of my said grandson +severally and successively according to their respective seniority in +tail and for default of such issue to the use of all and every the +daughters and daughter of my said grandson Philip as tenants in common +in tail with cross remainders between or amongst them in tail and if +all the daughters of my said grandson Philip except one shall die +without issue or if there shall be but one such daughter then to the +use of such one or only daughter in tail and in default of such issue +then to the use of the second and every other son of my said eldest son +severally and successively according to his respective seniority in +tail and in default of such issue to the use of all and every the +daughters and daughter of my said eldest son Philip as tenants in +common in tail with cross remainders between or amongst them in tail +and in default of such issue to the use of my second son Marmaduke and +his assigns during the term of his natural life without impeachment of +waste and after his decease to the use of the first and every son of my +said son Marmaduke severally and successively according to their +respective seniorities in tail and for default of such issue to the use +of all and every the daughters and daughter of my said son Marmaduke as +tenants in common in tail with cross remainders between or amongst them +in tail and if all the daughters of my said son Marmaduke except one +shall die without issue or if there shall be but one such daughter then +to the use of such one or only daughter in tail and in default of such +issue then to the use of my third son John during the term of his +natural life without impeachment of waste and from and after his +decease then to the use of my grandson John the first son of my said +son John during the term of his natural life without impeachment of +waste and after the decease of my said grandson John to the use of the +first and every other son of my said grandson John severally and +successively according to their respective seniority in tail and for +default of such issue to the use of all and every the daughters and +daughter of my said grandson John as tenants in common in tail with +cross remainders between or among them in tail and if all the daughters +of my said grandson John except one shall die without issue or if there +shall be but one such daughter' [_This, you will see, is my little +Mary_] 'then to the use of such one or only daughter in tail and in +default of such issue then to the use of the second and every other son +of my said third son John severally and successively according to his +respective seniority in tail and in default of such issue to the use of +all and every the daughters and daughter of my said third son John as +tenants in common in tail with cross remainders between or amongst them +in tail and in default of such issue to the use of my fourth son Paul +during the term of his natural life without impeachment of waste and +from and after his decease then to the use of my grandson Paul the son +of my said son Paul during his natural life without impeachment of +waste and after the decease of my said grandson Paul to the use of the +first and every other son of my said grandson severally and +successively according to their respective seniority in tail and for +default of such issue to the use of all and every the daughters and +daughter of my said grandson Paul as tenants in common in tail with +cross remainders between or amongst them in tail and if all the +daughters of my said grandson Paul except one shall die without issue +or if there shall be but one such daughter then to the use of such one +or only daughter in tail and in default of such issue then to the use +of the second and every other son of my said fourth son Paul severally +and successively according to his respective seniority in tail and in +default of such issue to the use of all and every the daughters and +daughter of my said fourth son Paul as tenants in common in tail with +cross remainders between or amongst them in tail,' &c. &c. + +"P.S.--Then comes what the lawyers call a general devise to trustees, +to preserve the contingent remainders before devised from being +destroyed; but what that means, perhaps you can get somebody to tell +you. I hope it may be some legal jargon to preserve my _very_ +contingent remainder." + + * * * * * + +The tone of Edward Arundel's answer to this letter was more +characteristic of the writer than in harmony with poor John's solemn +appeal. + +"You dear, foolish old Marchmont," the lad wrote, "of course I shall +take care of Miss Mary; and my mother shall adopt her, and she shall +live at Dangerfield, and be educated with my sister Letitia, who has +the jolliest French governess, and a German maid for conversation; and +don't let Paul Marchmont try on any of his games with me, that's all! +But what do you mean, you ridiculous old boy, by talking about dying, +and drowning, and shipwrecked mariners, and catching at straws, and all +that sort of humbug, when you know very well that you'll live to +inherit the Lincolnshire property, and that I'm coming to you every +year to shoot, and that you're going to build a tennis-court,--of +course there _is_ a billiard-room,--and that you're going to have a +stud of hunters, and be master of the hounds, and no end of bricks to + +"Your ever devoted Roman countryman and lover, + +"EDGARDO? + +"42, MONTAGUE SQUARE, + +"_December_ 3l_st_, 1838. + +"P.S.--By-the-bye, don't you think a situation in a lawyer's office +would suit you better than the T. R. D. L.? If you do, I think I could +manage it. A happy new year to Miss Mary!" + + * * * * * + +It was thus that Mr. Edward Arundel accepted the solemn trust which his +friend confided to him in all simplicity and good faith. Mary Marchmont +herself was not more innocent in the ways of the world outside Oakley +Street, the Waterloo Road, and the New Cut, than was the little girl's +father; nothing seemed more natural to him than to intrust the doubtful +future of his only child to the bright-faced handsome boy, whose early +boyhood had been unblemished by a mean sentiment or a dishonourable +action. John Marchmont had spent three years in the Berkshire Academy +at which Edward and his cousin, Martin Mostyn, had been educated; and +young Arundel, who was far behind his kinsman in the comprehension of a +problem in algebra, had been wise enough to recognise that paradox +which Martin Mostyn could not understand--a gentleman in a shabby coat. +It was thus that a friendship had arisen between the teacher of +mathematics and his handsome pupil; and it was thus that an unreasoning +belief in Edward Arundel had sprung up in John's simple mind. + +"If my little girl were certain of inheriting the fortune," Mr. +Marchmont thought, "I might find many who would be glad to accept my +trust, and to serve her well and faithfully. But the chance is such a +remote one. I cannot forget how the Jews laughed at me two years ago, +when I tried to borrow money upon my reversionary interest. No! I must +trust this brave-hearted boy, for I have no one else to confide in; and +who else is there who would not ridicule my fear of my cousin Paul?" + +Indeed, Mr. Marchmont had some reason to be considerably ashamed of his +antipathy to the young artist working for his bread, and for the bread +of his invalid mother and unmarried sister, in that bitter winter of +'38; working patiently and hopefully, in despite of all discouragement, +and content to live a joyless and monotonous life in a dingy lodging +near Fitzroy Square. I can find no excuse for John Marchmont's +prejudice against an industrious and indefatigable young man, who was +the sole support of two helpless women. Heaven knows, if to be adored +by two women is any evidence of a man's virtue, Paul must have been the +best of men; for Stephanie Marchmont, and her daughter Clarisse, +regarded the artist with a reverential idolatry that was not without a +tinge of romance. I can assign no reason, then, for John's dislike of +his cousin. They had been schoolfellows at a wretched suburban school, +where the children of poor people were boarded, lodged, and educated +all the year round for a pitiful stipend of something under twenty +pounds. One of the special points of the prospectus was the +announcement that there were no holidays; for the jovial Christmas +gatherings of merry faces, which are so delightful to the wealthy +citizens of Bloomsbury or Tyburnia, take another complexion in +poverty-stricken households, whose scantily-stocked larders can ill +support the raids of rawboned lads clamorous for provender. The two +boys had met at a school of this calibre, and had never met since. They +may not have been the best friends, perhaps, at the classical academy; +but their quarrels were by no means desperate. They may have rather +freely discussed their several chances of the Lincolnshire property; +but I have no romantic story to tell of a stirring scene in the humble +schoolroom--no exciting record of deadly insult and deep vows of +vengeance. No inkstand was ever flung by one boy into the face of the +other; no savage blow from a horsewhip ever cut a fatal scar across the +brow of either of the cousins. John Marchmont would have been almost as +puzzled to account for his objection to his kinsman, as was the +nameless gentleman who so naively confessed his dislike of Dr. Fell. I +fear that a great many of our likings and dislikings are too apt to be +upon the Dr. Fell principle. Mr. Wilkie Collins's Basil could not tell +_why_ he fell madly in love with the lady whom it was his evil fortune +to meet in an omnibus; nor why he entertained an uncomfortable feeling +about the gentleman who was to be her destroyer. David Copperfield +disliked Uriah Heep even before he had any substantial reason for +objecting to the evil genius of Agnes Wickfield's father. The boy +disliked the snake-like schemer of Canterbury because his eyes were +round and red, and his hands clammy and unpleasant to the touch. +Perhaps John Marchmont's reasons for his aversion to his cousin were +about as substantial as those of Master Copperfield. It may be that the +schoolboy disliked his comrade because Paul Marchmont's handsome grey +eyes were a little too near together; because his thin and delicately +chiselled lips were a thought too tightly compressed; because his +cheeks would fade to an awful corpse-like whiteness under circumstances +which would have brought the rushing life-blood, hot and red, into +another boy's face; because he was silent and suppressed when it would +have been more natural to be loud and clamorous; because he could smile +under provocations that would have made another frown; because, in +short, there was that about him which, let it be found where it will, +always gives birth to suspicion,--MYSTERY! + +So the cousins had parted, neither friends nor foes, to tread their +separate roads in the unknown country, which is apt to seem barren and +desolate enough to travellers who foot it in hobnailed boots +considerably the worse for wear; and as the iron hand of poverty held +John Marchmont even further back than Paul upon the hard road which +each had to tread, the quiet pride of the teacher of mathematics most +effectually kept him out of his kinsman's way. He had only heard enough +of Paul to know that he was living in London, and working hard for a +living; working as hard as John himself, perhaps; but at least able to +keep afloat in a higher social position than the law-stationer's hack +and the banner-holder of Drury Lane. + +But Edward Arundel did not forget his friends in Oakley Street. The boy +made a morning call upon his father's solicitors, Messrs. Paulette, +Paulette, and Mathewson, of Lincoln's Inn Fields, and was so extremely +eloquent in his needy friend's cause, as to provoke the good-natured +laughter of one of the junior partners, who declared that Mr. Edward +Arundel ought to wear a silk gown before he was thirty. The result of +this interview was, that before the first month of the new year was +out, John Marchmont had abandoned the classic banner and the demoniac +mask to a fortunate successor, and had taken possession of a +hard-seated, slim-legged stool in one of the offices of Messrs. +Paulette, Paulette, and Mathewson, as copying and out-door clerk, at a +salary of thirty shillings a week. + +So little Mary entered now upon a golden age, in which her evenings +were no longer desolate and lonely, but spent pleasantly with her +father in the study of such learning as was suited to her years, or +perhaps rather to her capacity, which was far beyond her years; and on +certain delicious nights, to be remembered ever afterwards, John +Marchmont took his little girl to the gallery of one or other of the +transpontine theatres; and I am sorry to say that my heroine--for she +is to be my heroine by-and-by--sucked oranges, ate Abernethy biscuits, +and cooled her delicate nose against the iron railing of the gallery, +after the manner of the masses when they enjoy the British Drama. + +But all this time John Marchmont was utterly ignorant of one rather +important fact in the history of those three lives which he was apt to +speak of as standing between him and Marchmont Towers. Young Arthur +Marchmont, the immediate heir of the estate, had been shot to death +upon the 1st of September, 1838, without blame to anyone or anything +but his own boyish carelessness, which had induced him to scramble +through a hedge with his fowling-piece, the costly present of a doating +father, loaded and on full-cock. This melancholy event, which had been +briefly recorded in all the newspapers, had never reached the knowledge +of poor John Marchmont, who had no friends to busy themselves about his +interests, or to rush eagerly to carry him any intelligence affecting +his prosperity. Nor had he read the obituary notice respecting +Marmaduke Marchmont, the bachelor, who had breathed his last stertorous +breath in a fit of apoplexy exactly one twelvemonth before the day upon +which Edward Arundel breakfasted in Oakley Street. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +GOING AWAY. + + +Edward Arundel went from Montague Square straight into the household of +the private tutor of whom he had spoken, there to complete his +education, and to be prepared for the onerous duties of a military +life. From the household of this private tutor he went at once into a +cavalry regiment; after sundry examinations, which were not nearly so +stringent in the year one thousand eight hundred and forty, as they +have since become. Indeed, I think the unfortunate young cadets who are +educated upon the high-pressure system, and who are expected to give a +synopsis of Portuguese political intrigue during the eighteenth +century, a scientific account of the currents of the Red Sea, and a +critical disquisition upon the comedies of Aristophanes as compared +with those of Pedro Calderon de la Barca, not forgetting to glance at +the effect of different ages and nationalities upon the respective +minds of the two playwrights, within a given period of, say +half-an-hour,--would have envied Mr. Arundel for the easy manner in +which he obtained his commission in a distinguished cavalry regiment. +Mr. Edward Arundel therefore inaugurated the commencement of the year +1840 by plunging very deeply into the books of a crack military-tailor +in New Burlington Street, and by a visit to Dangerfield Park; where he +went to make his adieux before sailing for India, whither his regiment +had just been ordered. + +I do not doubt that Mrs Arundel was very sorrowful at this sudden +parting with her yellow-haired younger son. The boy and his mother +walked together in the wintry sunset under the leafless beeches at +Dangerfield, and talked of the dreary voyage that lay before the lad; +the arid plains and cruel jungles far away; perils by sea and perils by +land; but across them all, Fame waving her white beckoning arms to the +young soldier, and crying, "Come, conqueror that shall be! come, +through trial and danger, through fever and famine,--come to your rest +upon my bloodstained lap!" Surely this boy, being only just eighteen +years of age, may be forgiven if he is a little romantic, a little over +eager and impressionable, a little too confident that the next thing to +going out to India as a sea-sick subaltern in a great transport-ship is +coming home with the reputation of a Clive. Perhaps he may be forgiven, +too, if, in his fresh enthusiasm, he sometimes forgot the shabby friend +whom he had helped little better than a twelvemonth before, and the +earnest hazel eyes that had shone upon him in the pitiful Oakley Street +chamber. I do not say that he was utterly unmindful of his old teacher +of mathematics. It was not in his nature to forget anyone who had need +of his services; for this boy, so eager to be a soldier, was of the +chivalrous temperament, and would have gone out to die for his +mistress, or his friend, if need had been. He had received two or three +grateful letters from John Marchmont; and in these letters the lawyer's +clerk had spoken pleasantly of his new life, and hopefully of his +health, which had improved considerably, he said, since his resignation +of the tragic banner and the pantomimic mask. Neither had Edward quite +forgotten his promise of enlisting Mrs. Arundel's sympathies in aid of +the motherless little girl. In one of these wintry walks beneath the +black branches at Dangerfield, the lad had told the sorrowful story of +his well-born tutor's poverty and humiliation. + +"Only think, mother!" he cried at the end of the little history. "I saw +the poor fellow carrying a great calico flag, and marching about at the +heel of a procession, to be laughed at by the costermongers in the +gallery; and I know that he belongs to a capital Lincolnshire family, +and will come in for no end of money if he only lives long enough. But +if he should die, mother, and leave his little girl destitute, you'll +look after her, won't you?" + +I don't know whether Mrs. Arundel quite entered into her son's ideas +upon the subject of adopting Mary Marchmont, or whether she had any +definite notion of bringing the little girl home to Dangerfield for the +natural term of her life, in the event of the child being left an +orphan. But she was a kind and charitable lady, and she scarcely cared +to damp her boy's spirits by holding forth upon the doubtful wisdom of +his adopting, or promising to adopt, any stray orphans who might cross +his pathway. + +"I hope the little girl may not lose her father, Edward," she said +gently. "Besides, dear, you say that Mr. Marchmont tells you he has +humble friends, who would take the child if anything happened to him. +He does not wish us to adopt the little girl; he only asks us to +interest ourselves in her fate." + +"And you will do that, mother darling?" cried the boy. "You will take +an interest in her, won't you? You couldn't help doing so, if you were +to see her. She's not like a child, you know,--not a bit like Letitia. +She's as grave and quiet as you are, mother,--or graver, I think; and +she looks like a lady, in spite of her poor, shabby pinafore and +frock." + +"Does she wear shabby frocks?" said the mother. "I could help her in +that matter, at all events, Ned. I might send her a great trunk-full of +Letitia's things: she outgrows them before they have been worn long +enough to be shabby." + +The boy coloured, and shook his head. + +"It's very kind of you to think of it, mother dear; but I don't think +that would quite answer," he said. + +"Why not?" + +"Because, you see, John Marchmont is a gentleman; and, you know, though +he's so dreadfully poor now, he _is_ heir to Marchmont Towers. And +though he didn't mind doing any thing in the world to earn a few +shillings a week, he mightn't like to take cast-off clothes." + +So nothing more was to be said or done upon the subject. + +Edward Arundel wrote his humble friend a pleasant letter, in which he +told John that he had enlisted his mother's sympathy in Mary's cause, +and in which he spoke in very glowing terms of the Indian expedition +that lay before him. + +"I wish I could come to say good-bye to you and Miss Mary before I go," +he wrote; "but that's impossible. I go straight from here to +Southampton by coach at the end of this month, and the _Auckland_ sails +on the 2nd of February. Tell Miss Mary I shall bring her home all kinds +of pretty presents from Affghanistan,--ivory fans, and Cashmere shawls, +and Chinese puzzles, and embroidered slippers with turned-up toes, and +diamonds, and attar-of-roses, and suchlike; and remember that I expect +you to write to me, and to give me the earliest news of your coming +into the Lincolnshire property." + +John Marchmont received this letter in the middle of January. He gave a +despondent sigh as he refolded the boyish epistle, after reading it to +his little girl. + +"We haven't so many friends, Polly," he said, "that we should be +indifferent to the loss of this one." + +Mary Marchmont's cheek grew paler at her father's sorrowful speech. +That imaginative temperament, which was, as I have said, almost morbid +in its intensity, presented every object to the little girl in a light +in which things are looked at by very few children. Only these few +words, and her fancy roamed far away to that cruel land whose perils +her father had described to her. Only these few words, and she was away +in the rocky Bolan Pass, under hurricanes of drifting snow; she saw the +hungry soldiers fighting with savage dogs for the possession of foul +carrion. She had heard all the perils and difficulties which had +befallen the Army of the Indus in the year '39, and the womanly heart +ached with the pain of those cruel memories. + +"He will go to India and be killed, papa dear," she said. "Oh! why, why +do they let him go? His mother can't love him, can she? She would never +let him go, if she did." + +John Marchmont was obliged to explain to his daughter that motherly +love must not go so far as to deprive a nation of its defenders; and +that the richest jewels which Cornelia can give to her country are +those ruby life-drops which flow from the hearts of her bravest and +brightest sons. Mary was no political economist; she could not reason +upon the necessity of chastising Persian insolence, or checking Russian +encroachments upon the far-away shores of the Indus. Was Edward +Arundel's bright head, with its aureola of yellow hair, to be cloven +asunder by an Affghan renegade's sabre, because the young Shah of +Persia had been contumacious? + +Mary Marchmont wept silently that day over a three-volume novel, while +her father was away serving writs upon wretched insolvents, in his +capacity of out-door clerk to Messrs. Paulette, Paulette, and +Mathewson. + +The young lady no longer spent her quiet days in the two-pair back. Mr. +Marchmont and his daughter had remained faithful to Oakley Street and +the proprietress of the ladies' wardrobe, who was a good, motherly +creature; but they had descended to the grandeur of the first floor, +whose gorgeous decorations Mary had glanced at furtively in the days +gone by, when the splendid chambers were occupied by an elderly and +reprobate commission-agent, who seemed utterly indifferent to the +delights of a convex mirror, surmounted by a maimed eagle, whose +dignity was somewhat impaired by the loss of a wing; but which bijou +appeared, to Mary, to be a fitting adornment for the young Queen's +palace in St. James's Park. + +But neither the eagle nor the third volume of a thrilling romance could +comfort Mary upon this bleak January day. She shut her book, and stood +by the window, looking out into the dreary street, that seemed so +blotted and dim under the falling snow. + +"It snowed in the Pass of Bolan," she thought; "and the treacherous +Indians harassed the brave soldiers, and killed their camels. What will +become of him in that dreadful country? Shall we ever see him again?" + +Yes, Mary, to your sorrow! Indian scimitars will let him go scatheless; +famine and fever will pass him by; but the hand which points to that +far-away day on which you and he are to meet, will never fail or falter +in its purpose until the hour of your meeting comes. + + * * * * * + +We have no need to dwell upon the preparations which were made for the +young soldier's departure from home, nor on the tender farewells +between the mother and her son. + +Mr. Arundel was a country gentleman _pur et simple_; a hearty, +broad-shouldered squire, who had no thought above his farm and his +dog-kennel, or the hunting of the red deer with which his neighbourhood +abounded. He sent his younger son to India as coolly as he had sent the +elder to Oxford. The boy had little to inherit, and must be provided +for in a gentlemanly manner. Other younger sons of the House of Arundel +had fought and conquered in the Honourable East India Company's +service; and was Edward any better than they, that there should be +sentimental whining because the lad was going away to fight his way to +fortune, if he could? Mr. Arundel went even further than this, and +declared that Master Edward was a lucky dog to be going out at such a +time, when there was plenty of fighting, and a very fair chance of +speedy promotion for a good soldier. + +He gave the young cadet his blessing, reminded him of the limit of such +supplies as he was to expect from home, bade him keep clear of the +brandy-bottle and the dice-box; and having done this, believed that he +had performed his duty as an Englishman and a father. + +If Mrs. Arundel wept, she wept in secret, loth to discourage her son by +the sight of those natural, womanly tears. If Miss Letitia Arundel was +sorry to lose her brother, she mourned with most praiseworthy +discretion, and did not forget to remind the young traveller that she +expected to receive a muslin frock, embroidered with beetle-wings, by +an early mail. And as Algernon Fairfax Dangerfield Arundel, the heir, +was away at college, there was no one else to mourn. So Edward left the +home of his forefathers by a branch-coach, which started from the +"Arundel Arms" in time to meet the "Telegraph" at Exeter; and no noisy +lamentations shook the sky above Dangerfield Park--no mourning voices +echoed through the spacious rooms. The old servants were sorry to lose +the younger-born, whose easy, genial temperament had made him an +especial favourite; but there was a certain admixture of joviality with +their sorrow, as there generally is with all mourning in the basement; +and the strong ale, the famous Dangerfield October, went faster upon +that 31st of January than on any day since Christmas. + +I doubt if any one at Dangerfield Park sorrowed as bitterly for the +departure of the boyish soldier as a romantic young lady, of nine years +old, in Oakley Street, Lambeth; whose one sentimental +day-dream--half-childish, half-womanly--owned Edward Arundel as its +centre figure. + +So the curtain falls on the picture of a brave ship sailing eastward, +her white canvas strained against the cold grey February sky, and a +little girl weeping over the tattered pages of a stupid novel in a +shabby London lodging. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MARCHMONT TOWERS. + + +There is a lapse of three years and a half between the acts; and the +curtain rises to reveal a widely-different picture:--the picture of a +noble mansion in the flat Lincolnshire country; a stately pile of +building, standing proudly forth against a background of black +woodland; a noble building, supported upon either side by an octagon +tower, whose solid masonry is half-hidden by the ivy which clings about +the stonework, trailing here and there, and flapping restlessly with +every breath of wind against the narrow casements. + +A broad stone terrace stretches the entire length of the grim facade, +from tower to tower; and three flights of steps lead from the terrace +to the broad lawn, which loses itself in a vast grassy flat, only +broken by a few clumps of trees and a dismal pool of black water, but +called by courtesy a park. Grim stone griffins surmount the +terrace-steps, and griffins' heads and other architectural +monstrosities, worn and moss-grown, keep watch and ward over every door +and window, every archway and abutment--frowning threat and defiance +upon the daring visitor who approaches the great house by this, the +formidable chief entrance. + +The mansion looks westward: but there is another approach, a low +archway on the southern side, which leads into a quadrangle, where +there is a quaint little door under a stone portico, ivy-covered like +the rest; a comfortable little door of massive oak, studded with knobs +of rusty iron,--a door generally affected by visitors familiar with the +house. + +This is Marchmont Towers,--a grand and stately mansion, which had been +a monastery in the days when England and the Pope were friends and +allies; and which had been bestowed upon Hugh Marchmont, gentleman, by +his Sovereign Lord and Most Christian Majesty the King Henry VIII, of +blessed memory, and by that gentleman-commoner extended and improved at +considerable outlay. This is Marchmont Towers,--a splendid and a +princely habitation truly, but perhaps scarcely the kind of dwelling +one would choose for the holy resting-place we call home. The great +mansion is a little too dismal in its lonely grandeur: it lacks shelter +when the dreary winds come sweeping across the grassy flats in the +bleak winter weather; it lacks shade when the western sun blazes on +every window-pane in the stifling summer evening. It is at all times +rather too stony in its aspect; and is apt to remind one almost +painfully of every weird and sorrowful story treasured in the +storehouse of memory. Ancient tales of enchantment, dark German +legends, wild Scottish fancies, grim fragments of half-forgotten +demonology, strange stories of murder, violence, mystery, and wrong, +vaguely intermingle in the stranger's mind as he looks, for the first +time, at Marchmont Towers. + +But of course these feelings wear off in time. So invincible is the +power of custom, that we might make ourselves comfortable in the Castle +of Otranto, after a reasonable sojourn within its mysterious walls: +familiarity would breed contempt for the giant helmet, and all the +other grim apparitions of the haunted dwelling. The commonplace and +ignoble wants of every-day life must surely bring disenchantment with +them. The ghost and the butcher's boy cannot well exist +contemporaneously; and the avenging shade can scarcely continue to lurk +beneath the portal which is visited by the matutinal milkman. Indeed, +this is doubtless the reason that the most restless and impatient +spirit, bent on early vengeance and immediate retribution, will yet +wait until the shades of night have fallen before he reveals himself, +rather than run the risk of an ignominious encounter with the postman +or the parlour-maid. Be it how it might, the phantoms of Marchmont +Towers were not intrusive. They may have perambulated the long +tapestried corridors, the tenantless chambers, the broad black +staircase of shining oak; but, happily, no dweller in the mansion was +ever scared by the sight of their pale faces. All the dead-and-gone +beauties, and soldiers, and lawyers, and parsons, and simple +country-squires of the Marchmont race may have descended from their +picture-frames to hold a witches' sabbath in the old mansion; but as +the Lincolnshire servants were hearty eaters and heavy sleepers, the +ghosts had it all to themselves. I believe there was one dismal story +attached to the house,--the story of a Marchmont of the time of Charles +I, who had murdered his coachman in a fit of insensate rage; and it was +even asserted, upon the authority of an old housekeeper, that John +Marchmont's grandmother, when a young woman and lately come as a bride +to the Towers, had beheld the murdered coachman stalk into her chamber, +ghastly and blood-bedabbled, in the dim summer twilight. But as this +story was not particularly romantic, and possessed none of the elements +likely to insure popularity,--such as love, jealousy, revenge, mystery, +youth, and beauty,--it had never been very widely disseminated. + +I should think that the new owner of Marchmont Towers--new within the +last six months--was about the last person in Christendom to be +hypercritical, or to raise fanciful objections to his dwelling; for +inasmuch as he had come straight from a wretched transpontine lodging +to this splendid Lincolnshire mansion, and had at the same time +exchanged a stipend of thirty shillings a week for an income of eleven +thousand a year (derivable from lands that spread far away, over fenny +flats and low-lying farms, to the solitary seashore), he had ample +reason to be grateful to Providence, and well pleased with his new +abode. + +Yes; Philip Marchmont, the childless widower, had died six months +before, at the close of the year '43, of a broken heart,--his old +servants said, broken by the loss of his only and idolised son; after +which loss he had never been known to smile. He was one of those +undemonstrative men who can take a great sorrow quietly, and only--die +of it. Philip Marchmont lay in a velvet-covered coffin, above his +son's, in the stone recess set apart for them in the Marchmont vault +beneath Kemberling Church, three miles from the Towers; and John +reigned in his stead. John Marchmont, the supernumerary, the +banner-holder of Drury Lane, the patient, conscientious copying and +outdoor clerk of Lincoln's Inn, was now sole owner of the Lincolnshire +estate, sole master of a household of well-trained old servants, sole +proprietor of a very decent country-gentleman's stud, and of chariots, +barouches, chaises, phaetons, and other vehicles--a little shabby and +out of date it may be, but very comfortable to a man for whom an +omnibus ride had long been a treat and a rarity. Nothing had been +touched or disturbed since Philip Marchmont's death. The rooms he had +used were still the occupied apartments; the chambers he had chosen to +shut up were still kept with locked doors; the servants who had served +him waited upon his successor, whom they declared to be a quiet, easy +gentleman, far too wise to interfere with old servants, every one of +whom knew the ways of the house a great deal better than he did, though +he was the master of it. + +There was, therefore, no shadow of change in the stately mansion. The +dinner-bell still rang at the same hour; the same tradespeople left the +same species of wares at the low oaken door; the old housekeeper, +arranging her simple _menu_, planned her narrow round of soups and +roasts, sweets and made-dishes, exactly as she had been wont to do, and +had no new tastes to consult. A grey-haired bachelor, who had been +own-man to Philip, was now own-man to John. The carriage which had +conveyed the late lord every Sunday to morning and afternoon service at +Kemberling conveyed the new lord, who sat in the same seat that his +predecessor had occupied in the great family-pew, and read his prayers +out of the same book,--a noble crimson, morocco-covered volume, in +which George, our most gracious King and Governor, and all manner of +dead-and-gone princes and princesses were prayed for. + +The presence of Mary Marchmont made the only change in the old house; +and even that change was a very trifling one. Mary and her father were +as closely united at Marchmont Towers as they had been in Oakley +Street. The little girl clung to her father as tenderly as ever--more +tenderly than ever perhaps; for she knew something of that which the +physicians had said, and she knew that John Marchmont's lease of life +was not a long one. Perhaps it would be better to say that he had no +lease at all. His soul was a tenant on sufferance in its frail earthly +habitation, receiving a respite now and again, when the flicker of the +lamp was very low--every chance breath of wind threatening to +extinguish it for ever. It was only those who knew John Marchmont very +intimately who were fully acquainted with the extent of his danger. He +no longer bore any of those fatal outward signs of consumption, which +fatigue and deprivation had once made painfully conspicuous. The hectic +flush and the unnatural brightness of the eyes had subsided; indeed, +John seemed much stronger and heartier than of old; and it is only +great medical practitioners who can tell to a nicety what is going on +_inside_ a man, when he presents a very fair exterior to the +unprofessional eye. But John was decidedly better than he had been. He +might live three years, five, seven, possibly even ten years; but he +must live the life of a man who holds himself perpetually upon his +defence against death; and he must recognise in every bleak current of +wind, in every chilling damp, or perilous heat, or over-exertion, or +ill-chosen morsel of food, or hasty emotion, or sudden passion, an +insidious ally of his dismal enemy. + +Mary Marchmont knew all this,--or divined it, perhaps, rather than knew +it, with the child-woman's subtle power of divination, which is even +stronger than the actual woman's; for her father had done his best to +keep all sorrowful knowledge from her. She knew that he was in danger; +and she loved him all the more dearly, as the one precious thing which +was in constant peril of being snatched away. The child's love for her +father has not grown any less morbid in its intensity since Edward +Arundel's departure for India; nor has Mary become more childlike since +her coming to Marchmont Towers, and her abandonment of all those sordid +cares, those pitiful every-day duties, which had made her womanly. + +It may be that the last lingering glamour of childhood had for ever +faded away with the realisation of the day-dream which she had carried +about with her so often in the dingy transpontine thoroughfares around +Oakley Street. Marchmont Towers, that fairy palace, whose lighted +windows had shone upon her far away across a cruel forest of poverty +and trouble, like the enchanted castle which appears to the lost +wanderer of the child's story, was now the home of the father she +loved. The grim enchanter Death, the only magician of our modern +histories, had waved his skeleton hand, more powerful than the +star-gemmed wand of any fairy godmother, and the obstacles which had +stood between John Marchmont and his inheritance had one by one been +swept away. + +But was Marchmont Towers quite as beautiful as that fairy palace of +Mary's day-dream? No, not quite--not quite. The rooms were +handsome,--handsomer and larger, even, than the rooms she had dreamed +of; but perhaps none the better for that. They were grand and gloomy +and magnificent; but they were not the sunlit chambers which her fancy +had built up, and decorated with such shreds and patches of splendour +as her narrow experience enabled her to devise. Perhaps it was rather a +disappointment to Miss Marchmont to discover that the mansion was +completely furnished, and that there was no room in it for any of those +splendours which she had so often contemplated in the New Cut. The +parrot at the greengrocer's was a vulgar bird, and not by any means +admissible in Lincolnshire. The carrying away and providing for Mary's +favourite tradespeople was not practicable; and John Marchmont had +demurred to her proposal of adopting the butcher's daughter. + +There is always something to be given up even when our brightest +visions are realised; there is always some one figure (a low one +perhaps) missing in the fullest sum of earthly happiness. I dare say if +Alnaschar had married the Vizier's daughter, he would have found her a +shrew, and would have looked back yearningly to the humble days in +which he had been an itinerant vendor of crockery-ware. + +If, therefore, Mary Marchmont found her sunlit fancies not quite +realised by the great stony mansion that frowned upon the fenny +countryside, the wide grassy flat, the black pool, with its dismal +shelter of weird pollard-willows, whose ugly reflections, distorted on +the bosom of the quiet water, looked like the shadows of hump-backed +men;--if these things did not compose as beautiful a picture as that +which the little girl had carried so long in her mind, she had no more +reason to be sorry than the rest of us, and had been no more foolish +than other dreamers. I think she had built her airy castle too much +after the model of a last scene in a pantomime, and that she expected +to find spangled waters twinkling in perpetual sunshine, revolving +fountains, ever-expanding sunflowers, and gilded clouds of +rose-coloured gauze,--every thing except the fairies, in short,--at +Marchmont Towers. Well, the dream was over: and she was quite a woman +now, and very grateful to Providence when she remembered that her +father had no longer need to toil for his daily bread, and that he was +luxuriously lodged, and could have the first physicians in the land at +his beck and call. + +"Oh, papa, it is so nice to be rich!" the young lady would exclaim now +and then, in a fleeting transport of enthusiasm. "How good we ought to +be to the poor people, when we remember how poor we once were!" + +And the little girl did not forget to be good to the poor about +Kemberling and Marchmont Towers. There were plenty of poor, of +course--free-and-easy pensioners, who came to the Towers for brandy, +and wine, and milk, and woollen stuffs, and grocery, precisely as they +would have gone to a shop, except that there was to be no bill. The +housekeeper doled out her bounties with many short homilies upon the +depravity and ingratitude of the recipients, and gave tracts of an +awful and denunciatory nature to the pitiful petitioners--tracts +interrogatory, and tracts fiercely imperative; tracts that asked, +"Where are you going?" "Why are you wicked?" "What will become of you?" +and other tracts which cried, "Stop, and think!" "Pause, while there is +time!" "Sinner, consider!" "Evil-doer, beware!" Perhaps it may not be +the wisest possible plan to begin the work of reformation by +frightening, threatening, and otherwise disheartening the wretched +sinner to be reformed. There is a certain sermon in the New Testament, +containing sacred and comforting words which were spoken upon a +mountain near at hand to Jerusalem, and spoken to an auditory amongst +which there must have been many sinful creatures; but there is more of +blessing than cursing in that sublime discourse, and it might be rather +a tender father pleading gently with his wayward children than an +offended Deity dealing out denunciation upon a stubborn and refractory +race. But the authors of the tracts may have never read this sermon, +perhaps; and they may take their ideas of composition from that +comforting service which we read on Ash-Wednesday, cowering in fear and +trembling in our pews, and calling down curses upon ourselves and our +neighbours. Be it as it might, the tracts were not popular amongst the +pensioners of Marchmont Towers. They infinitely preferred to hear Mary +read a chapter in the New Testament, or some pretty patriarchal story +of primitive obedience and faith. The little girl would discourse upon +the Scripture histories in her simple, old-fashioned manner; and many a +stout Lincolnshire farm-labourer was content to sit over his hearth, +with a pipe of shag-tobacco and a mug of fettled beer, while Miss +Marchmont read and expounded the history of Abraham and Isaac, or +Joseph and his brethren. + +"It's joost loike a story-book to hear her," the man would say to his +wife; "and yet she brings it all hoame, too, loike. If she reads about +Abraham, she'll say, maybe, 'That's joost how you gave your only son to +be a soldier, you know, Muster Moggins;'--she allus says Muster +Moggins;--'you gave un into God's hands, and you troosted God would +take care of un; and whatever cam' to un would be the best, even if it +was death.' That's what she'll say, bless her little heart! so gentle +and tender loike. The wust o' chaps couldn't but listen to her." + +Mary Marchmont's morbidly sensitive nature adapted her to all +charitable offices. No chance word in her simple talk ever inflicted a +wound upon the listener. She had a subtle and intuitive comprehension +of other people's feelings, derived from the extreme susceptibility of +her own. She had never been vulgarised by the associations of poverty; +for her self-contained nature took no colour from the things that +surrounded her, and she was only at Marchmont Towers that which she had +been from the age of six--a little lady, grave and gentle, dignified, +discreet, and wise. + +There was one bright figure missing out of the picture which Mary had +been wont of late years to make of the Lincolnshire mansion, and that +was the figure of the yellow-haired boy who had breakfasted upon +haddocks and hot rolls in Oakley Street. She had imagined Edward +Arundel an inhabitant of that fair Utopia. He would live with them; or, +if he could not live with them, he would be with them as a +visitor,--often--almost always. He would leave off being a soldier, for +of course her papa could give him more money than he could get by being +a soldier--(you see that Mary's experience of poverty had taught her to +take a mercantile and sordid view of military life)--and he would come +to Marchmont Towers, and ride, and drive, and play tennis (what was +tennis? she wondered), and read three-volume novels all day long. But +that part of the dream was at least broken. Marchmont Towers was Mary's +home, but the young soldier was far away; in the Pass of Bolan, +perhaps,--Mary had a picture of that cruel rocky pass almost always in +her mind,--or cutting his way through a black jungle, with the yellow +eyes of hungry tigers glaring out at him through the rank tropical +foliage; or dying of thirst and fever under a scorching sun, with no +better pillow than the neck of a dead camel, with no more tender +watcher than the impatient vulture flapping her wings above his head, +and waiting till he, too, should be carrion. What was the good of +wealth, if it could not bring this young soldier home to a safe shelter +in his native land? John Marchmont smiled when his daughter asked this +question, and implored her father to write to Edward Arundel, recalling +him to England. + +"God knows how glad I should be to have the boy here, Polly!" John +said, as he drew his little girl closer to his breast,--she sat on his +knee still, though she was thirteen years of age. "But Edward has a +career before him, my dear, and could not give it up for an inglorious +life in this rambling old house. It isn't as if I could hold out any +inducement to him: you know, Polly, I can't; for I mustn't leave any +money away from my little girl." + +"But he might have half my money, papa, or all of it," Mary added +piteously. "What could I do with money, if----?" + +She didn't finish the sentence; she never could complete any such +sentence as this; but her father knew what she meant. + +So six months had passed since a dreary January day upon which John +Marchmont had read, in the second column of the "Times," that he could +hear of something greatly to his advantage by applying to a certain +solicitor, whose offices were next door but one to those of Messrs. +Paulette, Paulette, and Mathewson's. His heart began to beat very +violently when he read that advertisement in the supplement, which it +was one of his duties to air before the fire in the clerks' office; but +he showed no other sign of emotion. He waited until he took the papers +to his employer; and as he laid them at Mr. Mathewson's elbow, murmured +a respectful request to be allowed to go out for half-an-hour, upon his +own business. + +"Good gracious me, Marchmont!" cried the lawyer; "what can you want to +go out for at this time in the morning? You've only just come; and +there's that agreement between Higgs and Sandyman must be copied +before----" + +"Yes, I know, sir. I'll be back in time to attend to it; but I--I think +I've come into a fortune, sir; and I should like to go and see about +it." + +The solicitor turned in his revolving library-chair, and looked aghast +at his clerk. Had this Marchmont--always rather unnaturally reserved +and eccentric--gone suddenly mad? No; the copying-clerk stood by his +employer's side, grave, self-possessed as ever, with his forefinger +upon the advertisement. + +"Marchmont--John--call--Messrs. Tindal and Trollam--" gasped Mr. +Mathewson. "Do you mean to tell me it's _you_?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Egad, I'll go with you!" cried the solicitor, hooking his arm through +that of his clerk, snatching his hat from an adjacent stand, and +dashing through the outer office, down the great staircase, and into +the next door but one before John Marchmont knew where he was. + +John had not deceived his employer. Marchmont Towers was his, with all +its appurtenances. Messrs. Paulette, Paulette, and Mathewson took him +in hand, much to the chagrin of Messrs. Tindal and Trollam, and proved +his identity in less than a week. On a shelf above the high wooden desk +at which John had sat, copying law-papers, with a weary hand and an +aching spine, appeared two bran-new deed-boxes, inscribed, in white +letters, with the name and address of JOHN MARCHMONT, ESQ., MARCHMONT +TOWERS. The copying-clerk's sudden accession to fortune was the talk of +all the _employes_ in "The Fields." Marchmont Towers was exaggerated +into half Lincolnshire, and a tidy slice of Yorkshire; eleven thousand +a year was expanded into an annual million. Everybody expected largesse +from the legatee. How fond people had been of the quiet clerk, and how +magnanimously they had concealed their sentiments during his poverty, +lest they should wound him, as they urged, "which" they knew he was +sensitive; and how expansively they now dilated on their +long-suppressed emotions! Of course, under these circumstances, it is +hardly likely that everybody could be satisfied; so it is a small thing +to say that the dinner which John gave--by his late employers' +suggestion (he was about the last man to think of giving a dinner)--at +the "Albion Tavern," to the legal staff of Messrs. Paulette, Paulette, +and Mathewson, and such acquaintance of the legal profession as they +should choose to invite, was a failure; and that gentlemen who were +pretty well used to dine upon liver and bacon, or beefsteak and onions, +or the joint, vegetables, bread, cheese, and celery for a shilling, +turned up their noses at the turbot, murmured at the paucity of green +fat in the soup, made light of red mullet and ortolans, objected to the +flavour of the truffles, and were contemptuous about the wines. + +John knew nothing of this. He had lived a separate and secluded +existence; and his only thought now was of getting away to Marchmont +Towers, which had been familiar to him in his boyhood, when he had been +wont to go there on occasional visits to his grandfather. He wanted to +get away from the turmoil and confusion of the big, heartless city, in +which he had endured so much; he wanted to carry away his little girl +to a quiet country home, and live and die there in peace. He liberally +rewarded all the good people about Oakley Street who had been kind to +little Mary; and there was weeping in the regions of the Ladies' +Wardrobe when Mr. Marchmont and his daughter went away one bitter +winter's morning in a cab, which was to carry them to the hostelry +whence the coach started for Lincoln. + +It is strange to think how far those Oakley-street days of privation +and endurance seem to have receded in the memories of both father and +daughter. The impalpable past fades away, and it is difficult for John +and his little girl to believe that they were once so poor and +desolate. It is Oakley Street now that is visionary and unreal. The +stately county families bear down upon Marchmont Towers in great +lumbering chariots, with brazen crests upon the hammer-cloths, and +sulky coachmen in Brown-George wigs. The county mammas patronise and +caress Miss Marchmont--what a match she will be for one of the county +sons by-and-by!--the county daughters discourse with Mary about her +poor, and her fancy-work, and her piano. She is getting on slowly +enough with her piano, poor little girl! under the tuition of the +organist of Swampington, who gives lessons to that part of the county. +And there are solemn dinners now and then at Marchmont Towers--dinners +at which Miss Mary appears when the cloth has been removed, and +reflects in silent wonder upon the change that has come to her father +and herself. Can it be true that she has ever lived in Oakley Street, +whither came no more aristocratic visitors than her Aunt Sophia, who +was the wife of a Berkshire farmer, and always brought hogs' puddings, +and butter, and home-made bread, and other rustic delicacies to her +brother-in-law; or Mrs. Brigsome, the washer-woman, who made a +morning-call every Monday, to fetch John Marchmont's shabby shirts? The +shirts were not shabby now; and it was no longer Mary's duty to watch +them day by day, and manipulate them tenderly when the linen grew +frayed at the sharp edges of the folds, or the buttonholes gave signs +of weakness. Corson, Mr. Marchmont's own-man, had care of the shirts +now: and John wore diamond-studs and a black-satin waistcoat, when he +gave a dinner-party. They were not very lively, those Lincolnshire +dinner-parties; though the dessert was a sight to look upon, in Mary's +eyes. The long shining table, the red and gold and purple Indian china, +the fluffy woollen d'oyleys, the sparkling cut-glass, the sticky +preserved ginger and guava-jelly, and dried orange rings and chips, and +all the stereotyped sweetmeats, were very grand and beautiful, no +doubt; but Mary had seen livelier desserts in Oakley Street, though +there had been nothing better than a brown-paper bag of oranges from +the Westminster Road, and a bottle of two-and-twopenny Marsala from a +licensed victualler's in the Borough, to promote conviviality. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE YOUNG SOLDIER'S RETURN. + + +The rain beats down upon the battlemented roof of Marchmont Towers this +July day, as if it had a mind to flood the old mansion. The flat waste +of grass, and the lonely clumps of trees, are almost blotted out by the +falling rain. The low grey sky shuts out the distance. This part of +Lincolnshire--fenny, misty, and flat always--seems flatter and mistier +than usual to-day. The rain beats hopelessly upon the leaves in the +wood behind Marchmont Towers, and splashes into great pools beneath the +trees, until the ground is almost hidden by the fallen water, and the +trees seem to be growing out of a black lake. The land is lower behind +Marchmont Towers, and slopes down gradually to the bank of a dismal +river, which straggles through the Marchmont property at a snail's +pace, to gain an impetus farther on, until it hurries into the sea +somewhere northward of Grimsby. The wood is not held in any great +favour by the household at the Towers; and it has been a pet project of +several Marchmonts to level and drain it, but a project not very easily +to be carried out. Marchmont Towers is said to be unhealthy, as a +dwelling-house, by reason of this wood, from which miasmas rise in +certain states of the weather; and it is on this account that the back +of the house--the eastern front, at least, as it is called--looking to +the wood is very little used. + +Mary Marchmont sits at a window in the western drawing-room, watching +the ceaseless falling of the rain upon this dreary summer afternoon. +She is little changed since the day upon which Edward Arundel saw her +in Oakley Street. She is taller, of course, but her figure is as +slender and childish as ever: it is only her face in which the +earnestness of premature womanhood reveals itself in a grave and sweet +serenity very beautiful to contemplate. Her soft brown eyes have a +pensive shadow in their gentle light; her mouth is even more pensive. +It has been said of Jane Grey, of Mary Stuart, of Marie Antoinette, +Charlotte Corday, and other fated women, that in the gayest hours of +their youth they bore upon some feature, or in some expression, the +shadow of the End--an impalpable, indescribable presage of an awful +future, vaguely felt by those who looked upon them. + +Is it thus with Mary Marchmont? Has the solemn hand of Destiny set that +shadowy brand upon the face of this child, that even in her prosperity, +as in her adversity, she should be so utterly different from all other +children? Is she already marked out for some womanly martyrdom--already +set apart for more than common suffering? + +She sits alone this afternoon, for her father is busy with his agent. +Wealth does not mean immunity from all care and trouble; and Mr. +Marchmont has plenty of work to get through, in conjunction with his +land-steward, a hard-headed Yorkshireman, who lives at Kemberling, and +insists on doing his duty with pertinacious honesty. + +The large brown eyes looked wistfully out at the dismal waste and the +falling rain. There was a wretched equestrian making his way along the +carriage-drive. + +"Who can come to see us on such a day?" Mary thought. "It must be Mr. +Gormby, I suppose;"--the agent's name was Gormby. "Mr. Gormby never +cares about the wet; but then I thought he was with papa. Oh, I hope it +isn't anybody coming to call." + +But Mary forgot all about the struggling equestrian the next moment. +She had some morsel of fancy-work upon her lap, and picked it up and +went on with it, setting slow stitches, and letting her thoughts wander +far away from Marchmont Towers--to India, I am afraid; or to that +imaginary India which she had created for herself out of such images as +were to be picked up in the "Arabian Nights." She was roused suddenly +by the opening of a door at the farther end of the room, and by the +voice of a servant, who mumbled a name which sounded something like Mr. +Armenger. + +She rose, blushing a little, to do honour to one of her father's county +acquaintance, as she thought; when a fair-haired gentleman dashed in, +very much excited and very wet, and made his way towards her. + +"I _would_ come, Miss Marchmont," he said,--"I would come, though the +day was so wet. Everybody vowed I was mad to think of it, and it was as +much as my poor brute of a horse could do to get over the ten miles of +swamp between this and my uncle's house; but I would come! Where's +John? I want to see John. Didn't I always tell him he'd come into the +Lincolnshire property? Didn't I always say so, now? You should have +seen Martin Mostyn's face--he's got a capital berth in the War Office, +and he's such a snob!--when I told him the news: it was as long as my +arm! But I must see John, dear old fellow! I long to congratulate him." + +Mary stood with her hands clasped, and her breath coming quickly. The +blush had quite faded out, and left her unusually pale. But Edward +Arundel did not see this: young gentlemen of four-and-twenty are not +very attentive to every change of expression in little girls of +thirteen. + +"Oh, is it you, Mr. Arundel? Is it really you?" + +She spoke in a low voice, and it was almost difficult to keep the +rushing tears back while she did so. She had pictured him so often in +peril, in famine, in sickness, in death, that to see him here, well, +happy, light-hearted, cordial, handsome, and brave, as she had seen him +four-and-a-half years before in the two-pair back in Oakley Street, was +almost too much for her to bear without the relief of tears. But she +controlled her emotion as bravely as if she had been a woman of twenty. + +"I am so glad to see you," she said quietly; "and papa will be so glad +too! It is the only thing we want, now we are rich; to have you with +us. We have talked of you so often; and I--we--have been so unhappy +sometimes, thinking that----" + +"That I should be killed, I suppose?" + +"Yes; or wounded very, very badly. The battles in India have been +dreadful, have they not?" + +Mr. Arundel smiled at her earnestness. + +"They have not been exactly child's play," he said, shaking back his +chesnut hair and smoothing his thick moustache. He was a man now, and a +very handsome one; something of that type which is known in this year +of grace as "swell"; but brave and chivalrous withal, and not afflicted +with any impediment in his speech. "The men who talk of the Affghans as +a chicken-hearted set of fellows are rather out of their reckoning. The +Indians can fight, Miss Mary, and fight like the devil; but we can lick +'em!" + +He walked over to the fireplace, where--upon this chilly wet day, there +was a fire burning--and began to shake himself dry. Mary, following him +with her eyes, wondered if there was such another soldier in all Her +Majesty's dominions, and how soon he would be made General-in-Chief of +the Army of the Indus. + +"Then you've not been wounded at all, Mr. Arundel?" she said, after a +pause. + +"Oh, yes, I've been wounded; I got a bullet in my shoulder from an +Affghan musket, and I'm home on sick-leave." + +This time he saw the expression of her face, and interpreted her look +of alarm. + +"But I'm not ill, you know, Miss Marchmont," he said, laughing. "Our +fellows are very glad of a wound when they feel home-sick. The 8th come +home before long, all of 'em; and I've a twelvemonth's leave of +absence; and we're pretty sure to be ordered out again by the end of +that time, as I don't believe there's much chance of quiet over there." + +"You will go out again!----" + +Edward Arundel smiled at her mournful tone. + +"To be sure, Miss Mary. I have my captaincy to win, you know; I'm only +a lieutenant, as yet." + +It was only a twelvemonth's reprieve, after all, then, Mary thought. He +would go back again--to suffer, and to be wounded, and to die, perhaps. +But then, on the other hand, there was a twelvemonth's respite; and her +father might in that time prevail upon the young soldier to stay at +Marchmont Towers. It was such inexpressible happiness to see him once +more, to know that he was safe and well, that Mary could scarcely do +otherwise than see all things in a sunny light just now. + +She ran to John Marchmont's study to tell him of the coming of this +welcome visitor; but she wept upon her father's shoulder before she +could explain who it was whose coming had made her so glad. Very few +friendships had broken the monotony of her solitary existence; and +Edward Arundel was the only chivalrous image she had ever known, out of +her books. + +John Marchmont was scarcely less pleased than his child to see the man +who had befriended him in his poverty. Never has more heartfelt welcome +been given than that which greeted Edward Arundel at Marchmont Towers. + +"You will stay with us, of course, my dear Arundel," John said; "you +will stop for September and the shooting. You know you promised you'd +make this your shooting-box; and we'll build the tennis-court. Heaven +knows, there's room enough for it in the great quadrangle; and there's +a billiard-room over this, though I'm afraid the table is out of order. +But we can soon set that right, can't we, Polly?" + +"Yes, yes, papa; out of my pocket-money, if you like." + +Mary Marchmont said this in all good faith. It was sometimes difficult +for her to remember that her father was really rich, and had no need of +help out of her pocket-money. The slender savings in her little purse +had often given him some luxury that he would not otherwise have had, +in the time gone by. + +"You got my letter, then?" John said; "the letter in which I told +you----" + +"That Marchmont Towers was yours. Yes, my dear old boy. That letter was +amongst a packet my agent brought me half-an-hour before I left +Calcutta. God bless you, dear old fellow; how glad I was to hear of it! +I've only been in England a fortnight. I went straight from Southampton +to Dangerfield to see my father and mother, stayed there little over +ten days, and then offended them all by running away. I reached +Swampington yesterday, slept at my uncle Hubert's, paid my respects to +my cousin Olivia, who is,--well, I've told you what she is,--and rode +over here this morning, much to the annoyance of the inhabitants of the +Rectory. So, you see, I've been doing nothing but offending people for +your sake, John; and for yours, Miss Mary. By-the-by, I've brought you +such a doll!" + +A doll! Mary's pale face flushed a faint crimson. Did he think her +still a child, then, this soldier; did he think her only a silly child, +with no thought above a doll, when she would have gone out to India, +and braved every peril of that cruel country, to be his nurse and +comfort in fever and sickness, like the brave Sisters of Mercy she had +read of in some of her novels? + +Edward Arundel saw that faint crimson glow lighting up in her face. + +"I beg your pardon, Miss Marchmont," he said. "I was only joking; of +course you are a young lady now, almost grown up, you know. Can you +play chess?" + +"No, Mr. Arundel." + +"I am sorry for that; for I have brought you a set of chessmen that +once belonged to Dost Mahommed Khan. But I'll teach you the game, if +you like?" + +"Oh, yes, Mr. Arundel; I should like it very, very much." + +The young soldier could not help being amused by the little girl's +earnestness. She was about the same age as his sister Letitia; but, oh, +how widely different to that bouncing and rather wayward young lady, +who tore the pillow-lace upon her muslin frocks, rumpled her long +ringlets, rasped the skin off the sharp points of her elbows, by +repeated falls upon the gravel-paths at Dangerfield, and tormented a +long-suffering Swiss attendant, half-lady's-maid, half-governess, from +morning till night. No fold was awry in Mary Marchmont's simple +black-silk frock; no plait disarranged in the neat cambric tucker that +encircled the slender white throat. Intellect here reigned supreme. +Instead of the animal spirits of a thoughtless child, there was a +woman's loving carefulness for others, a woman's unselfishness and +devotion. + +Edward Arundel did not understand all this, but I think he had a dim +comprehension of the greater part of it. + +"She is a dear little thing," he thought, as he watched her clinging to +her father's arm; and then he began to talk about Marchmont Towers, and +insisted upon being shown over the house; and, perhaps for the first +time since the young heir had shot himself to death upon a bright +September morning in a stubble-field within earshot of the park, the +sound of merry laughter echoed through the long corridors, and +resounded in the unoccupied rooms. + +Edward Arundel was in raptures with everything. "There never was such a +dear old place," he said. "'Gloomy?' 'dreary?' 'draughty?' pshaw! Cut a +few logs out of that wood at the back there, pile 'em up in the wide +chimneys, and set a light to 'em, and Marchmont Towers would be like a +baronial mansion at Christmas-time." He declared that every dingy +portrait he looked at was a Rubens or a Velasquez, or a Vandyke, a +Holbein, or a Lely. + +"Look at that fur border to the old woman's black-velvet gown, John; +look at the colouring of the hands! Do you think anybody but Peter Paul +could have painted that? Do you see that girl with the blue-satin +stomacher and the flaxen ringlets?--one of your ancestresses, Miss +Mary, and very like you. If that isn't in Sir Peter Lely's best +style,--his earlier style, you know, before he was spoiled by royal +patronage, and got lazy,--I know nothing of painting." + +The young soldier ran on in this manner, as he hurried his host from +room to room; now throwing open windows to look out at the wet +prospect; now rapping against the wainscot to find secret hiding-places +behind sliding panels; now stamping on the oak-flooring in the hope of +discovering a trap-door. He pointed out at least ten eligible sites for +the building of the tennis-court; he suggested more alterations and +improvements than a builder could have completed in a lifetime. The +place brightened under the influence of his presence, as a landscape +lights up under a burst of sudden sunshine breaking through a dull grey +sky. + +Mary Marchmont did not wait for the removal of the table-cloth that +evening, but dined with her father and his friend in a snug +oak-panelled chamber, half-breakfast-room, half-library, which opened +out of the western drawing-room. How different Edward Arundel was to +all the rest of the world, Miss Marchmont thought; how gay, how bright, +how genial, how happy! The county families, mustered in their fullest +force, couldn't make such mirth amongst them as this young soldier +created in his single person. + +The evening was an evening in fairy-land. Life was sometimes like the +last scene in a pantomime, after all, with rose-coloured cloud and +golden sunlight. + +One of the Marchmont servants went over to Swampington early the next +day to fetch Mr. Arundel's portmanteaus from the Rectory; and after +dinner upon that second evening, Mary Marchmont took her seat opposite +Edward, and listened reverently while he explained to her the moves +upon the chessboard. + +"So you don't know my cousin Olivia?" the young soldier said by-and-by. +"That's odd! I should have thought she would have called upon you long +before this." + +Mary Marchmont shook her head. + +"No," she said; "Miss Arundel has never been to see us; and I should so +like to have seen her, because she would have told me about you. Mr. +Arundel has called one or twice upon papa; but I have never seen him. +He is not our clergyman, you know; Marchmont Towers belongs to +Kemberling parish." + +"To be sure; and Swampington is ten miles off. But, for all that, I +should have thought Olivia would have called upon you. I'll drive you +over to-morrow, if John thinks me whip enough to trust you with me, and +you shall see Livy. The Rectory's such a queer old place!" + +Perhaps Mr. Marchmont was rather doubtful as to the propriety of +committing his little girl to Edward Arundel's charioteership for a +ten-mile drive upon a wretched road. Be it as it might, a lumbering +barouche, with a pair of over-fed horses, was ordered next morning, +instead of the high, old-fashioned gig which the soldier had proposed +driving; and the safety of the two young people was confided to a sober +old coachman, rather sulky at the prospect of a drive to Swampington so +soon after the rainy weather. + +It does not rain always, even in this part of Lincolnshire; and the +July morning was bright and pleasant, the low hedges fragrant with +starry opal-tinted wild roses and waxen honeysuckle, the yellowing corn +waving in the light summer breeze. Mary assured her companion that she +had no objection whatever to the odour of cigar-smoke; so Mr. Arundel +lolled upon the comfortable cushions of the barouche, with his back to +the horses, smoking cheroots, and talking gaily, while Miss Marchmont +sat in the place of state opposite to him. A happy drive; a drive in a +fairy chariot through regions of fairyland, for ever and for ever to be +remembered by Mary Marchmont. + +They left the straggling hedges and the yellowing corn behind them +by-and-by, as they drew near the outskirts of Swampington. The town +lies lower even than the surrounding country, flat and low as that +country is. A narrow river crawls at the base of a half-ruined wall, +which once formed part of the defences of the place. Black barges lie +at anchor here; and a stone bridge, guarded by a toll-house, spans the +river. Mr. Marchmont's carriage lumbered across this bridge, and under +an archway, low, dark, stony, and grim, into a narrow street of solid, +well-built houses, low, dark, stony, and grim, like the archway, but +bearing the stamp of reputable occupation. I believe the grass grew, +and still grows, in this street, as it does in all the other streets +and in the market-place of Swampington. They are all pretty much in the +same style, these streets,--all stony, narrow, dark, and grim; and they +wind and twist hither and thither, and in and out, in a manner utterly +bewildering to the luckless stranger, who, seeing that they are all +alike, has no landmarks for his guidance. + +There are two handsome churches, both bearing an early date in the +history of Norman supremacy: one crowded into an inconvenient corner of +a back street, and choked by the houses built up round about it; the +other lying a little out of the town, upon a swampy waste looking +towards the sea, which flows within a mile of Swampington. Indeed, +there is no lack of water in that Lincolnshire borough. The river winds +about the outskirts of the town; unexpected creeks and inlets meet you +at every angle; shallow pools lie here and there about the marshy +suburbs; and in the dim distance the low line of the grey sea meets the +horizon. + +But perhaps the positive ugliness of the town is something redeemed by +a vague air of romance and old-world mystery which pervades it. It is +an exceptional place, and somewhat interesting thereby. The great +Norman church upon the swampy waste, the scattered tombstones, bordered +by the low and moss-grown walls, make a picture which is apt to dwell +in the minds of those who look upon it, although it is by no means a +pretty picture. The Rectory lies close to the churchyard; and a +wicket-gate opens from Mr. Arundel's garden into a narrow pathway, +leading across a patch of tangled grass and through a lane of sunken +and lopsided tombstones, to the low vestry door. The Rectory itself is +a long irregular building, to which one incumbent after another has +built the additional chamber, or chimney, or porch, or bow-window, +necessary for his accommodation. There is very little garden in front +of the house, but a patch of lawn and shrubbery and a clump of old +trees at the back. + +"It's not a pretty house, is it, Miss Marchmont?" asked Edward, as he +lifted his companion out of the carriage. + +"No, not very pretty," Mary answered; "but I don't think any thing is +pretty in Lincolnshire. Oh, there's the sea!" she cried, looking +suddenly across the marshes to the low grey line in the distance. "How +I wish we were as near the sea at Marchmont Towers!" + +The young lady had something of a romantic passion for the +wide-spreading ocean. It was an unknown region, that stretched far +away, and was wonderful and beautiful by reason of its solemn mystery. +All her Corsair stories were allied to that far, fathomless deep. The +white sail in the distance was Conrad's, perhaps; and he was speeding +homeward to find Medora dead in her lonely watch-tower, with fading +flowers upon her breast. The black hull yonder, with dirty canvas +spread to the faint breeze, was the bark of some terrible pirate bound +on rapine and ravage. (She was a coal-barge, I have no doubt, sailing +Londonward with her black burden.) Nymphs and Lurleis, Mermaids and +Mermen, and tiny water-babies with silvery tails, for ever splashing in +the sunshine, were all more or less associated with the long grey line +towards which Mary Marchmont looked with solemn, yearning eyes. + +"We'll drive down to the seashore some morning, Polly," said Mr. +Arundel. He was beginning to call her Polly, now and then, in the easy +familiarity of their intercourse. "We'll spend a long day on the sands, +and I'll smoke cheroots while you pick up shells and seaweed." + +Miss Marchmont clasped her hands in silent rapture. Her face was +irradiated by the new light of happiness. How good he was to her, this +brave soldier, who must undoubtedly be made Commander-in-Chief of the +Army of the Indus in a year or so! + +Edward Arundel led his companion across the flagged way between the +iron gate of the Rectory garden and a half-glass door leading into the +hall. Out of this simple hall, only furnished with a couple of chairs, +a barometer, and an umbrella-stand, they went, without announcement, +into a low, old-fashioned room, half-study, half-parlour, where a young +lady was sitting at a table writing. + +She rose as Edward opened the door, and came to meet him. + +"At last!" she said; "I thought your rich friends engrossed all your +attention." + +She paused, seeing Mary. + +"This is Miss Marchmont, Olivia," said Edward; "the only daughter of my +old friend. You must be very fond of her, please; for she is a dear +little girl, and I know she means to love you." + +Mary lifted her soft brown eyes to the face of the young lady, and then +dropped her eyelids suddenly, as if half-frightened by what she had +seen there. + +What was it? What was it in Olivia Arundel's handsome face from which +those who looked at her so often shrank, repelled and disappointed? +Every line in those perfectly-modelled features was beautiful to look +at; but, as a whole, the face was not beautiful. Perhaps it was too +much like a marble mask, exquisitely chiselled, but wanting in variety +of expression. The handsome mouth was rigid; the dark grey eyes had a +cold light in them. The thick bands of raven-black hair were drawn +tightly off a square forehead, which was the brow of an intellectual +and determined man rather than of a woman. Yes; womanhood was the +something wanted in Olivia Arundel's face. Intellect, resolution, +courage, are rare gifts; but they are not the gifts whose tokens we +look for most anxiously in a woman's face. If Miss Arundel had been a +queen, her diadem would have become her nobly; and she might have been +a very great queen: but Heaven help the wretched creature who had +appealed from minor tribunals to _her_ mercy! Heaven help delinquents +of every kind whose last lingering hope had been in her compassion! + +Perhaps Mary Marchmont vaguely felt something of all this. At any rate, +the enthusiasm with which she had been ready to regard Edward Arundel's +cousin cooled suddenly beneath the winter in that pale, quiet face. + +Miss Arundel said a few words to her guest; kindly enough; but rather +too much as if she had been addressing a child of six. Mary, who was +accustomed to be treated as a woman, was wounded by her manner. + +"How different she is from Edward!" thought Miss Marchmont. "I shall +never like her as I like him." + +"So this is the pale-faced child who is to have Marchmont Towers +by-and-by," thought Miss Arundel; "and these rich friends are the +people for whom Edward stays away from us." + +The lines about the rigid mouth grew harder, the cold light in the grey +eyes grew colder, as the young lady thought this. + +It was thus that these two women met: while one was but a child in +years; while the other was yet in the early bloom of womanhood: these +two, who were predestined to hate each other, and inflict suffering +upon each other in the days that were to come. It was thus that they +thought of one another; each with an unreasonable dread, an undefined +aversion gathering in her breast. + + * * * * * + +Six weeks passed, and Edward Arundel kept his promise of shooting the +partridges on the Marchmont preserves. The wood behind the Towers, and +the stubbled corn-fields on the home-farm, bristled with game. The +young soldier heartily enjoyed himself through that delicious first +week in September; and came home every afternoon, with a heavy game-bag +and a light heart, to boast of his prowess before Mary and her father. + +The young man was by this time familiar with every nook and corner of +Marchmont Towers; and the builders were already at work at the +tennis-court which John had promised to erect for his friend's +pleasure. The site ultimately chosen was a bleak corner of the eastern +front, looking to the wood; but as Edward declared the spot in every +way eligible, John had no inclination to find fault with his friend's +choice. There was other work for the builders; for Mr. Arundel had +taken a wonderful fancy to a ruined boat-house upon the brink of the +river; and this boat-house was to be rebuilt and restored, and made +into a delightful pavilion, in the upper chambers of which Mary might +sit with her father in the hot summer weather, while Mr. Arundel kept a +couple of trim wherries in the recesses below. + +So, you see, the young man made himself very much at home, in his own +innocent, boyish fashion, at Marchmont Towers. But as he had brought +life and light to the old Lincolnshire mansion, nobody was inclined to +quarrel with him for any liberties which he might choose to take: and +every one looked forward sorrowfully to the dark days before Christmas, +at which time he was under a promise to return to Dangerfield Park; +there to spend the remainder of his leave of absence. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +OLIVIA. + + +While busy workmen were employed at Marchmont Towers, hammering at the +fragile wooden walls of the tennis-court,--while Mary Marchmont and +Edward Arundel wandered, with the dogs at their heels, amongst the +rustle of the fallen leaves in the wood behind the great gaunt +Lincolnshire mansion,--Olivia, the Rector's daughter, sat in her +father's quiet study, or walked to and fro in the gloomy streets of +Swampington, doing her duty day by day. + +Yes, the life of this woman is told in these few words: she did her +duty. From the earliest age at which responsibility can begin, she had +done her duty, uncomplainingly, unswervingly, as it seemed to those who +watched her. + +She was a good woman. The bishop of the diocese had specially +complimented her for her active devotion to that holy work which falls +somewhat heavily upon the only daughter of a widowed rector. All the +stately dowagers about Swampington were loud in their praises of Olivia +Arundel. Such devotion, such untiring zeal in a young person of +three-and-twenty years of age, were really most laudable, these solemn +elders said, in tones of supreme patronage; for the young saint of whom +they spoke wore shabby gowns, and was the portionless daughter of a +poor man who had let the world slip by him, and who sat now amid the +dreary ruins of a wasted life, looking yearningly backward, with hollow +regretful eyes, and bewailing the chances he had lost. Hubert Arundel +loved his daughter; loved her with that sorrowful affection we feel for +those who suffer for our sins, whose lives have been blighted by our +follies. + +Every shabby garment which Olivia wore was a separate reproach to her +father; every deprivation she endured stung him as cruelly as if she +had turned upon him and loudly upbraided him for his wasted life and +his squandered patrimony. He loved her; and he watched her day after +day, doing her duty to him as to all others; doing her duty for ever +and for ever; but when he most yearned to take her to his heart, her +own cold perfections arose, and separated him from the child he loved. +What was he but a poor, vacillating, erring creature; weak, supine, +idle, epicurean; unworthy to approach this girl, who never seemed to +sicken of the hardness of her life, who never grew weary of well-doing? + +But how was it that, for all her goodness, Olivia Arundel won so small +a share of earthly reward? I do not allude to the gold and jewels and +other worldly benefits with which the fairies in our children's +story-books reward the benevolent mortals who take compassion upon them +when they experimentalise with human nature in the guise of old women; +but I speak rather of the love and gratitude, the tenderness and +blessings, which usually wait upon the footsteps of those who do good +deeds. Olivia Arundel's charities were never ceasing; her life was one +perpetual sacrifice to her father's parishioners. There was no natural +womanly vanity, no simple girlish fancy, which this woman had not +trodden under foot, and trampled out in the hard pathway she had chosen +for herself. + +The poor people knew this. Rheumatic men and women, crippled and +bed-ridden, knew that the blankets which covered them had been bought +out of money that would have purchased silk dresses for the Rector's +handsome daughter, or luxuries for the frugal table at the Rectory. +They knew this. They knew that, through frost and snow, through storm +and rain, Olivia Arundel would come to sit beside their dreary hearths, +their desolate sick-beds, and read holy books to them; sublimely +indifferent to the foul weather without, to the stifling atmosphere +within, to dirt, discomfort, poverty, inconvenience; heedless of all, +except the performance of the task she had set herself. + +People knew this; and they were grateful to Miss Arundel, and +submissive and attentive in her presence; they gave her such return as +they were able to give for the benefits, spiritual and temporal, which +she bestowed upon them: but they did not love her. + +They spoke of her in reverential accents, and praised her whenever her +name was mentioned; but they spoke with tearless eyes and unfaltering +voices. Her virtues were beautiful, of course, as virtue in the +abstract must always be; but I think there was a want of individuality +in her goodness, a lack of personal tenderness in her kindness, which +separated her from the people she benefited. + +Perhaps there was something almost chilling in the dull monotony of +Miss Arundel's benevolence. There was no blemish of mortal weakness +upon the good deeds she performed; and the recipients of her bounties, +seeing her so far off, grew afraid of her, even by reason of her +goodness, and _could_ not love her. + +She made no favourites amongst her father's parishioners. Of all the +school-children she had taught, she had never chosen one curly-headed +urchin for a pet. She had no good days and bad days; she was never +foolishly indulgent or extravagantly cordial. She was always the +same,--Church-of-England charity personified; meting out all mercies by +line and rule; doing good with a note-book and a pencil in her hand; +looking on every side with calm, scrutinising eyes; rigidly just, +terribly perfect. + +It was a fearfully monotonous, narrow, and uneventful life which Olivia +Arundel led at Swampington Rectory. At three-and-twenty years of age +she could have written her history upon a few pages. The world outside +that dull Lincolnshire town might be shaken by convulsions, and made +irrecognisable by repeated change; but all those outer changes and +revolutions made themselves but little felt in the quiet grass-grown +streets, and the flat surrounding swamps, within whose narrow boundary +Olivia Arundel had lived from infancy to womanhood; performing and +repeating the same duties from day to day, with no other progress to +mark the lapse of her existence than the slow alternation of the +seasons, and the dark hollow circles which had lately deepened beneath +her grey eyes, and the depressed lines about the corners of her firm +lower-lip. + +These outward tokens, beyond her own control, alone betrayed this +woman's secret. She was weary of her life. She sickened under the dull +burden which she had borne so long, and carried so patiently. The slow +round of duty was loathsome to her. The horrible, narrow, unchanging +existence, shut in by cruel walls, which bounded her on every side and +kept her prisoner to herself, was odious to her. The powerful intellect +revolted against the fetters that bound and galled it. The proud heart +beat with murderous violence against the bonds that kept it captive. + +"Is my life always to be this--always, always, always?" The passionate +nature burst forth sometimes, and the voice that had so long been +stifled cried aloud in the black stillness of the night, "Is it to go +on for ever and for ever; like the slow river that creeps under the +broken wall? O my God! is the lot of other women never to be mine? Am I +never to be loved and admired; never to be sought and chosen? Is my +life to be all of one dull, grey, colourless monotony; without one +sudden gleam of sunshine, without one burst of rainbow-light?" + +How shall I anatomise this woman, who, gifted with no womanly +tenderness of nature, unendowed with that pitiful and unreasoning +affection which makes womanhood beautiful, yet tried, and tried +unceasingly, to do her duty, and to be good; clinging, in the very +blindness of her soul, to the rigid formulas of her faith, but unable +to seize upon its spirit? Some latent comprehension of the want in her +nature made her only the more scrupulous in the performance of those +duties which she had meted out for herself. The holy sentences she had +heard, Sunday after Sunday, feebly read by her father, haunted her +perpetually, and would not be put away from her. The tenderness in +every word of those familiar gospels was a reproach to the want of +tenderness in her own heart. She could be good to her father's +parishioners, and she could make sacrifices for them; but she could not +love them, any more than they could love her. + +That divine and universal pity, that spontaneous and boundless +affection, which is the chief loveliness of womanhood and Christianity, +had no part in her nature. She could understand Judith with the +Assyrian general's gory head held aloft in her uplifted hand; but she +could not comprehend that diviner mystery of sinful Magdalene sitting +at her Master's feet, with the shame and love in her face half hidden +by a veil of drooping hair. + +No; Olivia Arundel was not a good woman, in the commoner sense we +attach to the phrase. It was not natural to her to be gentle and +tender, to be beneficent, compassionate, and kind, as it is to the +women we are accustomed to call "good." She was a woman who was for +ever fighting against her nature; who was for ever striving to do +right; for ever walking painfully upon the difficult road mapped out +for her; for ever measuring herself by the standard she had set up for +her self-abasement. And who shall say that such a woman as this, if she +persevere unto the end, shall not wear a brighter crown than her more +gentle sisters,--the starry circlet of a martyr? + +If she persevere unto the end! But was Olivia Arundel the woman to do +this? The deepening circles about her eyes, the hollowing cheeks, and +the feverish restlessness of manner which she could not always control, +told how terrible the long struggle had become to her. If she could +have died then,--if she had fallen beneath the weight of her +burden,--what a record of sin and anguish might have remained unwritten +in the history of woman's life! But this woman was one of those who can +suffer, and yet not die. She bore her burden a little longer; only to +fling it down by-and-by, and to abandon herself to the eager devils who +had been watching for her so untiringly. + +Hubert Arundel was afraid of his daughter. The knowledge that he had +wronged her,--wronged her even before her birth by the foolish waste of +his patrimony, and wronged her through life by his lack of energy in +seeking such advancement as a more ambitious man might have won,--the +knowledge of this, and of his daughter's superior virtues, combined to +render the father ashamed and humiliated by the presence of his only +child. The struggle between this fear and his remorseful love of her +was a very painful one; but fear had the mastery, and the Rector of +Swampington was content to stand aloof, mutely watchful of his +daughter, wondering feebly whether she was happy, striving vainly to +discover that one secret, that keystone of the soul, which must exist +in every nature, however outwardly commonplace. + +Mr. Arundel had hoped that his daughter would marry, and marry well, +even at Swampington; for there were rich young landowners who visited +at the Rectory. But Olivia's handsome face won her few admirers, and at +three-and-twenty Miss Arundel had received no offer of marriage. The +father reproached himself for this. It was he who had blighted the life +of his penniless girl; it was his fault that no suitors came to woo his +motherless child. Yet many dowerless maidens have been sought and +loved; and I do not think it was Olivia's lack of fortune which kept +admirers at bay. I believe it was rather that inherent want of +tenderness which chilled and dispirited the timid young Lincolnshire +squires. + +Had Olivia ever been in love? Hubert Arundel constantly asked himself +this question. He did so because he saw that some blighting influence, +even beyond the poverty and dulness of her home, had fallen upon the +life of his only child. What was it? What was it? Was it some hopeless +attachment, some secret tenderness, which had never won the sweet +return of love for love? + +He would no more have ventured to question his daughter upon this +subject than he would have dared to ask his fair young Queen, newly +married in those days, whether she was happy with her handsome husband. + +Miss Arundel stood by the Rectory gate in the early September evening, +watching the western sunlight on the low sea-line beyond the marshes. +She was wearied and worn out by a long day devoted to visiting amongst +her parishioners; and she stood with her elbow leaning on the gate, and +her head resting on her hand, in an attitude peculiarly expressive of +fatigue. She had thrown off her bonnet, and her black hair was pushed +carelessly from her forehead. Those masses of hair had not that purple +lustre, nor yet that wandering glimmer of red gold, which gives +peculiar beauty to some raven tresses. Olivia's hair was long and +luxuriant; but it was of that dead, inky blackness, which is all +shadow. It was dark, fathomless, inscrutable, like herself. The cold +grey eyes looked thoughtfully seaward. Another day's duty had been +done. Long chapters of Holy Writ had been read to troublesome old women +afflicted with perpetual coughs; stifling, airless cottages had been +visited; the dull, unvarying track had been beaten by the patient feet, +and the yellow sun was going down upon another joyless day. But did the +still evening hour bring peace to that restless spirit? No; by the +rigid compression of the lips, by the feverish lustre in the eyes, by +the faint hectic flush in the oval cheeks, by every outward sign of +inward unrest, Olivia Arundel was not at peace! The listlessness of her +attitude was merely the listlessness of physical fatigue. The mental +struggle was not finished with the close of the day's work. + +The young lady looked up suddenly as the tramp of a horse's hoofs, slow +and lazy-sounding on the smooth road, met her ear. Her eyes dilated, +and her breath went and came more rapidly; but she did not stir from +her weary attitude. + +The horse was from the stables at Marchmont Towers, and the rider was +Mr. Arundel. He came smiling to the Rectory gate, with the low sunshine +glittering in his chesnut hair, and the light of careless, indifferent +happiness irradiating his handsome face. + +"You must have thought I'd forgotten you and my uncle, my dear Livy," +he said, as he sprang lightly from his horse. "We've been so busy with +the tennis-court, and the boat-house, and the partridges, and goodness +knows what besides at the Towers, that I couldn't get the time to ride +over till this evening. But to-day we dined early, on purpose that I +might have the chance of getting here. I come upon an important +mission, Livy, I assure you." + +"What do you mean?" + +There was no change in Miss Arundel's voice when she spoke to her +cousin; but there was a change, not easily to be defined, in her face +when she looked at him. It seemed as if that weary hopelessness of +expression which had settled on her countenance lately grew more weary, +more hopeless, as she turned towards this bright young soldier, +glorious in the beauty of his own light-heartedness. It may have been +merely the sharpness of contrast which produced this effect. It may +have been an actual change arising out of some secret hidden in +Olivia's breast. + +"What do you mean by an important mission, Edward?" she said. + +She had need to repeat the question; for the young man's attention had +wandered from her, and he was watching his horse as the animal cropped +the tangled herbage about the Rectory gate. + +"Why, I've come with an invitation to a dinner at Marchmont Towers. +There's to be a dinner-party; and, in point of fact, it's to be given +on purpose for you and my uncle. John and Polly are full of it. You'll +come, won't you, Livy?" + +Miss Arundel shrugged her shoulders, with an impatient sigh. + +"I hate dinner-parties," she said; "but, of course, if papa accepts Mr. +Marchmont's invitation, I cannot refuse to go. Papa must choose for +himself." + +There had been some interchange of civilities between Marchmont Towers +and Swampington Rectory during the six weeks which had passed since +Mary's introduction to Olivia Arundel; and this dinner-party was the +result of John's simple desire to do honour to his friend's kindred. + +"Oh, you must come, Livy," Mr. Arundel exclaimed. "The tennis-court is +going on capitally. I want you to give us your opinion again. Shall I +take my horse round to the stables? I am going to stop an hour or two, +and ride back by moonlight." + +Edward Arundel took the bridle in his hand, and the cousins walked +slowly round by the low garden-wall to a dismal and rather dilapidated +stable-yard at the back of the Rectory, where Hubert Arundel kept a +wall-eyed white horse, long-legged, shallow-chested, and large-headed, +and a fearfully and wonderfully made phaeton, with high wheels and a +mouldy leathern hood. + +Olivia walked by the young soldier's side with that air of hopeless +indifference that had so grown upon her very lately. Her eyelids +drooped with a look of sullen disdain; but the grey eyes glanced +furtively now and again at her companion's handsome face. He was very +handsome. The glitter of reddish gold in his hair, and the light in his +fearless blue eyes; the careless grace peculiar to the kind of man we +call "a swell;" the gay _insouciance_ of an easy, candid, generous +nature,--all combined to make Edward Arundel singularly attractive. +These spoiled children of nature demand our admiration, in very spite +of ourselves. These beautiful, useless creatures call upon us to +rejoice in their valueless beauty, like the flaunting poppies in the +cornfield, and the gaudy wild-flowers in the grass. + +The darkness of Olivia's face deepened after each furtive glance she +cast at her cousin. Could it be that this girl, to whom nature had +given strength but denied grace, envied the superficial attractions of +the young man at her side? She did envy him; she envied him that sunny +temperament which was so unlike her own; she envied him that wondrous +power of taking life lightly. Why should existence be so bright and +careless to him; while to her it was a terrible fever-dream, a long +sickness, a never-ceasing battle? + +"Is my uncle in the house?" Mr. Arundel asked, as he strolled from the +stable into the garden with his cousin by his side. + +"No; he has been out since dinner," Olivia answered; "but I expect him +back every minute. I came out into the garden,--the house seemed so hot +and stifling to-night, and I have been sitting in close cottages all +day." + +"Sitting in close cottages!" repeated Edward. "Ah, to be sure; visiting +your rheumatic old pensioners, I suppose. How good you are, Olivia!" + +"Good!" + +She echoed the word in the very bitterness of a scorn that could not be +repressed. + +"Yes; everybody says so. The Millwards were at Marchmont Towers the +other day, and they were talking of you, and praising your goodness, +and speaking of your schools, and your blanket-associations, and your +invalid-societies, and your mutual-help clubs, and all your plans for +the parish. Why, you must work as hard as a prime-minister, Livy, by +their account; you, who are only a few years older than I." + +Only a few years! She started at the phrase, and bit her lip. + +"I was three-and-twenty last month," she said. + +"Ah, yes; to be sure. And I'm one-and-twenty. Then you're only two +years older than I, Livy. But, then, you see, you're so clever, that +you seem much older than you are. You'd make a fellow feel rather +afraid of you, you know. Upon my word you do, Livy." + +Miss Arundel did not reply to this speech of her cousin's. She was +walking by his side up and down a narrow gravelled pathway, bordered by +a hazel-hedge; she had gathered one of the slender twigs, and was idly +stripping away the fluffy buds. + +"What do you think, Livy?" cried Edward suddenly, bursting out laughing +at the end of the question. "What do you think? It's my belief you've +made a conquest." + +"What do you mean?" + +"There you go; turning upon a fellow as if you could eat him. Yes, +Livy; it's no use your looking savage. You've made a conquest; and of +one of the best fellows in the world, too. John Marchmont's in love +with you." + +Olivia Arundel's face flushed a vivid crimson to the roots of her black +hair. + +"How dare you come here to insult me, Edward Arundel?" she cried +passionately. + +"Insult you? Now, Livy dear, that's too bad, upon my word," +remonstrated the young man. "I come and tell you that as good a man as +ever breathed is over head and ears in love with you, and that you may +be mistress of one of the finest estates in Lincolnshire if you please, +and you turn round upon me like no end of furies." + +"Because I hate to hear you talk nonsense," answered Olivia, her bosom +still heaving with that first outburst of emotion, but her voice +suppressed and cold. "Am I so beautiful, or so admired or beloved, that +a man who has not seen me half a dozen times should fall in love with +me? Do those who know me estimate me so much, or prize me so highly, +that a stranger should think of me? You _do_ insult me, Edward Arundel, +when you talk as you have talked to-night." + +She looked out towards the low yellow light in the sky with a black +gloom upon her face, which no reflected glimmer of the sinking sun +could illumine; a settled darkness, near akin to the utter blackness of +despair. + +"But, good heavens, Olivia, what do you mean?" cried the young man. "I +tell you something that I think a good joke, and you go and make a +tragedy out of it. If I'd told Letitia that a rich widower had fallen +in love with her, she'd think it the finest fun in the world." + +"I'm not your sister Letitia." + +"No; but I wish you'd half as good a temper as she has, Livy. However, +never mind; I'll say no more. If poor old Marchmont has fallen in love +with you, that's his look-out. Poor dear old boy, he's let out the +secret of his weakness half a dozen ways within these last few days. +It's Miss Arundel this, and Miss Arundel the other; so unselfish, so +accomplished, so ladylike, so good! That's the way he goes on, poor +simple old dear; without having the remotest notion that he's making a +confounded fool of himself." + +Olivia tossed the rumpled hair from her forehead with an impatient +gesture of her hand. + +"Why should this Mr. Marchmont think all this of me?" she said, +"when--" she stopped abruptly. + +"When--what, Livy?" + +"When other people don't think it." + +"How do you know what other people think? You haven't asked them, I +suppose?" + +The young soldier treated his cousin in very much the same +free-and-easy manner which he displayed towards his sister Letitia. It +would have been almost difficult for him to recognise any degree in his +relationship to the two girls. He loved Letitia better than Olivia; but +his affection for both was of exactly the same character. + +Hubert Arundel came into the garden, wearied out, like his daughter, +while the two cousins were walking under the shadow of the neglected +hazels. He declared his willingness to accept the invitation to +Marchmont Towers, and promised to answer John's ceremonious note the +next day. + +"Cookson, from Kemberling, will be there, I suppose," he said, alluding +to a brother parson, "and the usual set? Well, I'll come, Ned, if you +wish it. You'd like to go, Olivia?" + +"If you like, papa." + +There was a duty to be performed now--the duty of placid obedience to +her father; and Miss Arundel's manner changed from angry impatience to +grave respect. She owed no special duty, be it remembered, to her +cousin. She had no line or rule by which to measure her conduct to him. + +She stood at the gate nearly an hour later, and watched the young man +ride away in the dim moonlight. If every separate tramp of his horse's +hoofs had struck upon her heart, it could scarcely have given her more +pain than she felt as the sound of those slow footfalls died away in +the distance. + +"O my God," she cried, "is this madness to undo all that I have done? +Is this folly to be the climax of my dismal life? Am I to die for the +love of a frivolous, fair-haired boy, who laughs in my face when he +tells me that his friend has pleased to 'take a fancy to me'?" + +She walked away towards the house; then stopping, with a sudden shiver, +she turned, and went back to the hazel-alley she had paced with Edward +Arundel. + +"Oh, my narrow life!" she muttered between her set teeth; "my narrow +life! It is that which has made me the slave of this madness. I love +him because he is the brightest and fairest thing I have ever seen. I +love him because he brings me all I have ever known of a more beautiful +world than that I live in. Bah! why do I reason with myself?" she +cried, with a sudden change of manner. "I love him because I am mad." + +She paced up and down the hazel-shaded pathway till the moonlight grew +broad and full, and every ivy-grown gable of the Rectory stood sharply +out against the vivid purple of the sky. She paced up and down, trying +to trample the folly within her under her feet as she went; a fierce, +passionate, impulsive woman, fighting against her mad love for a +bright-faced boy. + +"Two years older--only two years!" she said; "but he spoke of the +difference between us as if it had been half a century. And then I am +so clever, that I seem older than I am; and he is afraid of me! Is it +for this that I have sat night after night in my father's study, poring +over the books that were too difficult for him? What have I made of +myself in my pride of intellect? What reward have I won for my +patience?" + +Olivia Arundel looked back at her long life of duty--a dull, dead +level, unbroken by one of those monuments which mark the desert of the +past; a desolate flat, unlovely as the marshes between the low Rectory +wall and the shimmering grey sea. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +"MY LIFE IS COLD, AND DARK, AND DREARY." + + +Mr. Richard Paulette, of that eminent legal firm, Paulette, Paulette, +and Mathewson, coming to Marchmont Towers on business, was surprised to +behold the quiet ease with which the sometime copying-clerk received +the punctilious country gentry who came to sit at his board and do him +honour. + +Of all the legal fairy-tales, of all the parchment-recorded romances, +of all the poetry run into affidavits, in which the solicitor had ever +been concerned, this story seemed the strangest. Not so very strange in +itself, for such romances are not uncommon in the history of a lawyer's +experience; but strange by reason of the tranquil manner in which John +Marchmont accepted his new position, and did the honours of his house +to his late employer. + +"Ah, Paulette," Edward Arundel said, clapping the solicitor on the +back, "I don't suppose you believed me when I told you that my friend +here was heir-presumptive to a handsome fortune." + +The dinner-party at the Towers was conducted with that stately grandeur +peculiar to such solemnities. There was the usual round of country-talk +and parish-talk; the hunting squires leading the former section of the +discourse, the rectors and rectors' wives supporting the latter part of +the conversation. You heard on one side that Martha Harris' husband had +left off drinking, and attended church morning and evening; and on the +other that the old grey fox that had been hunted nine seasons between +Crackbin Bottom and Hollowcraft Gorse had perished ignobly in the +poultry-yard of a recusant farmer. While your left ear became conscious +of the fact that little Billy Smithers had fallen into a copper of +scalding water, your right received the dismal tidings that all the +young partridges had been drowned by the rains after St. Swithin, and +that there were hardly any of this year's birds, sir, and it would be a +very blue look-out for next season. + +Mary Marchmont had listened to gayer talk in Oakley Street than any +that was to be heard that night in her father's drawing-rooms, except +indeed when Edward Arundel left off flirting with some pretty girls in +blue, and hovered near her side for a little while, quizzing the +company. Heaven knows the young soldier's jokes were commonplace +enough; but Mary admired him as the most brilliant and accomplished of +wits. + +"How do you like my cousin, Polly?" he asked at last. + +"Your cousin, Miss Arundel?" + +"Yes." + +"She is very handsome." + +"Yes, I suppose so," the young man answered carelessly. "Everybody says +that Livy's handsome; but it's rather a cold style of beauty, isn't it? +A little too much of the Pallas Athene about it for my taste. I like +those girls in blue, with the crinkly auburn hair,--there's a touch of +red in it in the light,--and the dimples. You've a dimple, Polly, when +you smile." + +Miss Marchmont blushed as she received this information, and her brown +eyes wandered away, looking very earnestly at the pretty girls in blue. +She looked at them with a strange interest, eager to discover what it +was that Edward admired. + +"But you haven't answered my question, Polly," said Mr. Arundel. "I am +afraid you have been drinking too much wine, Miss Marchmont, and +muddling that sober little head of yours with the fumes of your papa's +tawny port. I asked you how you liked Olivia." + +Mary blushed again. + +"I don't know Miss Arundel well enough to like her--yet," she answered +timidly. + +"But shall you like her when you've known her longer? Don't be +jesuitical, Polly. Likings and dislikings are instantaneous and +instinctive. I liked you before I'd eaten half a dozen mouthfuls of the +roll you buttered for me at that breakfast in Oakley Street, Polly. You +don't like my cousin Olivia, miss; I can see that very plainly. You're +jealous of her." + +"Jealous of her!" + +The bright colour faded out of Mary Marchmont's face, and left her ashy +pale. + +"Do _you_ like her, then?" she asked. + +But Mr. Arundel was not such a coxcomb as to catch at the secret so +naively betrayed in that breathless question. + +"No, Polly," he said, laughing; "she's my cousin, you know, and I've +known her all my life; and cousins are like sisters. One likes to tease +and aggravate them, and all that; but one doesn't fall in love with +them. But I think I could mention somebody who thinks a great deal of +Olivia." + +"Who?" + +"Your papa." + +Mary looked at the young soldier in utter bewilderment. + +"Papa!" she echoed. + +"Yes, Polly. How would you like a stepmamma? How would you like your +papa to marry again?" + +Mary Marchmont started to her feet, as if she would have gone to her +father in the midst of all those spectators. John was standing near +Olivia and her father, talking to them, and playing nervously with his +slender watch-chain when he addressed the young lady. + +"My papa--marry again!" gasped Mary. "How dare you say such a thing, +Mr. Arundel?" + +Her childish devotion to her father arose in all its force; a flood of +passionate emotion that overwhelmed her sensitive nature. Marry again! +marry a woman who would separate him from his only child! Could he ever +dream for one brief moment of such a horrible cruelty? + +She looked at Olivia's sternly handsome face, and trembled. She could +almost picture that very woman standing between her and her father, and +putting her away from him. Her indignation quickly melted into grief. +Indignation, however intense, was always short-lived in that gentle +nature. + +"Oh, Mr Arundel!" she said, piteously appealing to the young man, "papa +would never, never, never marry again,--would he?" + +"Not if it was to grieve you, Polly, I dare say," Edward answered +soothingly. + +He had been dumbfounded by Mary's passionate sorrow. He had expected +that she would have been rather pleased, than otherwise, at the idea of +a young stepmother,--a companion in those vast lonely rooms, an +instructress and a friend as she grew to womanhood. + +"I was only talking nonsense, Polly darling," he said. "You mustn't +make yourself unhappy about any absurd fancies of mine. I think your +papa admires my cousin Olivia: and I thought, perhaps, you'd be glad to +have a stepmother." + +"Glad to have any one who'd take papa's love away from me?" Mary said +plaintively. "Oh, Mr. Arundel, how could you think so?" + +In all their familiarity the little girl had never learned to call her +father's friend by his Christian name, though he had often told her to +do so. She trembled to pronounce that simple Saxon name, which was so +beautiful and wonderful because it was his: but when she read a very +stupid novel, in which the hero was a namesake of Mr. Arundel's, the +vapid pages seemed to be phosphorescent with light wherever the name +appeared upon them. + +I scarcely know why John Marchmont lingered by Miss Arundel's chair. He +had heard her praises from every one. She was a paragon of goodness, an +uncanonised saint, for ever sacrificing herself for the benefit of +others. Perhaps he was thinking that such a woman as this would be the +best friend he could win for his little girl. He turned from the county +matrons, the tender, kindly, motherly creatures, who would have been +ready to take little Mary to the loving shelter of their arms, and +looked to Olivia Arundel--this cold, perfect benefactress of the +poor--for help in his difficulty. + +"She, who is so good to all her father's parishioners, could not refuse +to be kind to my poor Mary?" he thought. + +But how was he to win this woman's friendship for his darling? He asked +himself this question even in the midst of the frivolous people about +him, and with the buzz of their conversation in his ears. He was +perpetually tormenting himself about his little girl's future, which +seemed more dimly perplexing now than it had ever appeared in Oakley +Street, when the Lincolnshire property was a far-away dream, perhaps +never to be realised. He felt that his brief lease of life was running +out; he felt as if he and Mary had been standing upon a narrow tract of +yellow sand; very bright, very pleasant under the sunshine; but with +the slow-coming tide rising like a wall about them, and creeping +stealthily onward to overwhelm them. + +Mary might gather bright-coloured shells and wet seaweed in her +childish ignorance; but he, who knew that the flood was coming, could +but grow sick at heart with the dull horror of that hastening doom. If +the black waters had been doomed to close over them both, the father +might have been content to go down under the sullen waves, with his +daughter clasped to his breast. But it was not to be so. He was to sink +in that unknown stream while she was left upon the tempest-tossed +surface, to be beaten hither and thither, feebly battling with the +stormy billows. + +Could John Marchmont be a Christian, and yet feel this horrible dread +of the death which must separate him from his daughter? I fear this +frail, consumptive widower loved his child with an intensity of +affection that is scarcely reconcilable with Christianity. Such great +passions as these must be put away before the cross can be taken up, +and the troublesome path followed. In all love and kindness towards his +fellow-creatures, in all patient endurance of the pains and troubles +that befel himself, it would have been difficult to find a more +single-hearted follower of Gospel-teaching than John Marchmont; but in +this affection for his motherless child he was a very Pagan. He set up +an idol for himself, and bowed down before it. Doubtful and fearful of +the future, he looked hopelessly forward. He _could_ not trust his +orphan child into the hands of God; and drop away himself into the +fathomless darkness, serene in the belief that she would be cared for +and protected. No; he could not trust. He could be faithful for +himself; simple and confiding as a child; but not for her. He saw the +gloomy rocks louring black in the distance; the pitiless waves beating +far away yonder, impatient to devour the frail boat that was so soon to +be left alone upon the waters. In the thick darkness of the future he +could see no ray of light, except one,--a new hope that had lately +risen in his mind; the hope of winning some noble and perfect woman to +be the future friend of his daughter. + +The days were past in which, in his simplicity, he had looked to Edward +Arundel as the future shelter of his child. The generous boy had grown +into a stylish young man, a soldier, whose duty lay far away from +Marchmont Towers. No; it was to a good woman's guardianship the father +must leave his child. + +Thus the very intensity of his love was the one motive which led John +Marchmont to contemplate the step that Mary thought such a cruel and +bitter wrong to her. + + * * * * * + +It was not till long after the dinner-party at Marchmont Towers that +these ideas resolved themselves into any positive form, and that John +began to think that for his daughter's sake he might be led to +contemplate a second marriage. Edward Arundel had spoken the truth when +he told his cousin that John Marchmont had repeatedly mentioned her +name; but the careless and impulsive young man had been utterly unable +to fathom the feeling lurking in his friend's mind. It was not Olivia +Arundel's handsome face which had won John's admiration; it was the +constant reiteration of her praises upon every side which had led him +to believe that this woman, of all others, was the one whom he would do +well to win for his child's friend and guardian in the dark days that +were to come. + +The knowledge that Olivia's intellect was of no common order, together +with the somewhat imperious dignity of her manner, strengthened this +belief in John Marchmont's mind. It was not a good woman only whom he +must seek in the friend he needed for his child; it was a woman +powerful enough to shield her in the lonely path she would have to +tread; a woman strong enough to help her, perhaps, by-and-by to do +battle with Paul Marchmont. + +So, in the blind paganism of his love, John refused to trust his child +into the hands of Providence, and chose for himself a friend and +guardian who should shelter his darling. He made his choice with so +much deliberation, and after such long nights and days of earnest +thought, that he may be forgiven if he believed he had chosen wisely. + +Thus it was that in the dark November days, while Edward and Mary +played chess by the wide fireplace in the western drawing-room, or ball +in the newly-erected tennis-court, John Marchmont sat in his study +examining his papers, and calculating the amount of money at his own +disposal, in serious contemplation of a second marriage. + +Did he love Olivia Arundel? No. He admired her and respected her, and +he firmly believed her to be the most perfect of women. No impulse of +affection had prompted the step he contemplated taking. He had loved +his first wife truly and tenderly; but he had never suffered very +acutely from any of those torturing emotions which form the several +stages of the great tragedy called Love. + +But had he ever thought of the likelihood of his deliberate offer being +rejected by the young lady who had been the object of such careful +consideration? Yes; he had thought of this, and was prepared to abide +the issue. He should, at least, have tried his uttermost to secure a +friend for his darling. + +With such unloverlike feelings as these the owner of Marchmont Towers +drove into Swampington one morning, deliberately bent upon offering +Olivia Arundel his hand. He had consulted with his land-steward, and +with Messrs. Paulette, and had ascertained how far he could endow his +bride with the goods of this world. It was not much that he could give +her, for the estate was strictly entailed; but there would be his own +savings for the brief term of his life, and if he lived only a few +years these savings might accumulate to a considerable amount, so +limited were the expenses of the quiet Lincolnshire household; and +there was a sum of money, something over nine thousand pounds, left him +by Philip Marchmont, senior. He had something, then, to offer to the +woman he sought to make his wife; and, above all, he had a supreme +belief in Olivia Arundel's utter disinterestedness. He had seen her +frequently since the dinner-party, and had always seen her the +same,--grave, reserved, dignified; patiently employed in the strict +performance of her duty. + +He found Miss Arundel sitting in her father's study, busily cutting out +coarse garments for her poor. A newly-written sermon lay open on the +table. Had Mr. Marchmont looked closely at the manuscript, he would +have seen that the ink was wet, and that the writing was Olivia's. It +was a relief to this strange woman to write sermons sometimes--fierce +denunciatory protests against the inherent wickedness of the human +heart. Can you imagine a woman with a wicked heart steadfastly trying +to do good, and to be good? It is a dark and horrible picture; but it +is the only true picture of the woman whom John Marchmont sought to win +for his wife. + +The interview between Mary's father and Olivia Arundel was not a very +sentimental one; but it was certainly the very reverse of commonplace. +John was too simple-hearted to disguise the purpose of his wooing. He +pleaded, not for a wife for himself, but a mother for his orphan child. +He talked of Mary's helplessness in the future, not of his own love in +the present. Carried away by the egotism of his one affection, he let +his motives appear in all their nakedness. He spoke long and earnestly; +he spoke until the blinding tears in his eyes made the face of her he +looked at seem blotted and dim. + +Miss Arundel watched him as he pleaded; sternly, unflinchingly. But she +uttered no word until he had finished; and then, rising suddenly, with +a dusky flush upon her face, she began to pace up and down the narrow +room. She had forgotten John Marchmont. In the strength and vigour of +her intellect, this weak-minded widower, whose one passion was a +pitiful love for his child, appeared to her so utterly insignificant, +that for a few moments she had forgotten his presence in that room--his +very existence, perhaps. She turned to him presently, and looked him +full in the face. + +"You do not love me, Mr. Marchmont?" she said. + +"Pardon me," John stammered; "believe me, Miss Arundel, I respect, I +esteem you so much, that--" + +"That you choose me as a fitting friend for your child. I understand. I +am not the sort of woman to be loved. I have long comprehended that. My +cousin Edward Arundel has often taken the trouble to tell me as much. +And you wish me to be your wife in order that you may have a guardian +for your child? It is very much the same thing as engaging a governess; +only the engagement is to be more binding." + +"Miss Arundel," exclaimed John Marchmont, "forgive me! You +misunderstand me; indeed you do. Had I thought that I could have +offended you--" + +"I am not offended. You have spoken the truth where another man would +have told a lie. I ought to be flattered by your confidence in me. It +pleases me that people should think me good, and worthy of their +trust." + +She broke into a sigh as she finished speaking. + +"And you will not reject my appeal?" + +"I scarcely know what to do," answered Olivia, pressing her hand to her +forehead. + +She leaned against the angle of the deep casement window, looking out +at the garden, desolate and neglected in the bleak winter weather. She +was silent for some minutes. John Marchmont did not interrupt her; he +was content to wait patiently until she should choose to speak. + +"Mr. Marchmont," she said at last, turning upon poor John with an +abrupt vehemence that almost startled him, "I am three-and-twenty; and +in the long, dull memory of the three-and-twenty years that have made +my life, I cannot look back upon one joy--no, so help me Heaven, not +one!" she cried passionately. "No prisoner in the Bastille, shut in a +cell below the level of the Seine, and making companions of rats and +spiders in his misery, ever led a life more hopelessly narrow, more +pitifully circumscribed, than mine has been. These grass-grown streets +have made the boundary of my existence. The flat fenny country round me +is not flatter or more dismal than my life. You will say that I should +take an interest in the duties which I do; and that they should be +enough for me. Heaven knows I have tried to do so; but my life is hard. +Do you think there has been nothing in all this to warp my nature? Do +you think after hearing this, that I am the woman to be a second mother +to your child?" + +She sat down as she finished speaking, and her hands dropped listlessly +in her lap. The unquiet spirit raging in her breast had been stronger +than herself, and had spoken. She had lifted the dull veil through +which the outer world beheld her, and had showed John Marchmont her +natural face. + +"I think you are a good woman, Miss Arundel," he said earnestly. "If I +had thought otherwise, I should not have come here to-day. I want a +good woman to be kind to my child; kind to her when I am dead and +gone," he added, in a lower voice. + +Olivia Arundel sat silent and motionless, looking straight before her +out into the black dulness of the garden. She was trying to think out +the dark problem of her life. + +Strange as it may seem, there was a certain fascination for her in John +Marchmont's offer. He offered her something, no matter what; it would +be a change. She had compared herself to a prisoner in the Bastille; +and I think she felt very much as such a prisoner might have felt upon +his gaoler's offering to remove him to Vincennes. The new prison might +be worse than the old one, perhaps; but it would be different. Life at +Marchmont Towers might be more monotonous, more desolate, than at +Swampington; but it would be a new monotony, another desolation. Have +you never felt, when suffering the hideous throes of toothache, that it +would be a relief to have the earache or the rheumatism; that variety +even in torture would be agreeable? + +Then, again, Olivia Arundel, though unblest with many of the charms of +womanhood, was not entirely without its weaknesses. To marry John +Marchmont would be to avenge herself upon Edward Arundel. Alas! she +forgot how impossible it is to inflict a dagger-thrust upon him who is +guarded by the impenetrable armour of indifference. She saw herself the +mistress of Marchmont Towers, waited upon by liveried servants, +courted, not patronised by the country gentry; avenged upon the +mercenary aunt who had slighted her, who had bade her go out and get +her living as a nursery governess. She saw this; and all that was +ignoble in her nature arose, and urged her to snatch the chance offered +her--the one chance of lifting herself out of the horrible obscurity of +her life. The ambition which might have made her an empress lowered its +crest, and cried, "Take this; at least it is something." But, through +all, the better voices which she had enlisted to do battle with the +natural voice of her soul cried, "This is a temptation of the devil; +put it away from thee." + +But this temptation came to her at the very moment when her life had +become most intolerable; too intolerable to be borne, she thought. She +knew now, fatally, certainly, that Edward Arundel did not love her; +that the one only day-dream she had ever made for herself had been a +snare and a delusion. The radiance of that foolish dream had been the +single light of her life. That taken away from her, the darkness was +blacker than the blackness of death; more horrible than the obscurity +of the grave. + +In all the future she had not one hope: no, not one. She had loved +Edward Arundel with all the strength of her soul; she had wasted a +world of intellect and passion upon this bright-haired boy. This +foolish, grovelling madness had been the blight of her life. But for +this, she might have grown out of her natural self by force of her +conscientious desire to do right; and might have become, indeed, a good +and perfect woman. If her life had been a wider one, this wasted love +would, perhaps, have shrunk into its proper insignificance; she would +have loved, and suffered, and recovered; as so many of us recover from +this common epidemic. But all the volcanic forces of an impetuous +nature, concentrated into one narrow focus, wasted themselves upon this +one feeling, until that which should have been a sentiment became a +madness. + +To think that in some far-away future time she might cease to love +Edward Arundel, and learn to love somebody else, would have seemed +about as reasonable to Olivia as to hope that she could have new legs +and arms in that distant period. She could cut away this fatal passion +with a desperate stroke, it may be, just as she could cut off her arm; +but to believe that a new love would grow in its place was quite as +absurd as to believe in the growing of a new arm. Some cork monstrosity +might replace the amputated limb; some sham and simulated affection +might succeed the old love. + +Olivia Arundel thought of all these things, in about ten minutes by the +little skeleton clock upon the mantel-piece, and while John Marchmont +fidgeted rather nervously, with a pair of gloves in the crown of his +hat, and waited for some definite answer to his appeal. Her mind came +back at last, after all its passionate wanderings, to the rigid channel +she had so laboriously worn for it,--the narrow groove of duty. Her +first words testified this. + +"If I accept this responsibility, I will perform it faithfully," she +said, rather to herself than to Mr. Marchmont. + +"I am sure you will, Miss Arundel," John answered eagerly; "I am sure +you will. You mean to undertake it, then? you mean to consider my +offer? May I speak to your father? may I tell him that I have spoken to +you? may I say that you have given me a hope of your ultimate consent?" + +"Yes, yes," Olivia said, rather impatiently; "speak to my father; tell +him anything you please. Let him decide for me; it is my duty to obey +him." + +There was a terrible cowardice in this. Olivia Arundel shrank from +marrying a man she did not love, prompted by no better desire than the +mad wish to wrench herself away from her hated life. She wanted to +fling the burden of responsibility in this matter away from her. Let +another decide, let another urge her to do this wrong; and let the +wrong be called a sacrifice. + +So for the first time she set to work deliberately to cheat her own +conscience. For the first time she put a false mark upon the standard +she had made for the measurement of her moral progress. + +She sank into a crouching attitude on a low stool by the fire-place, in +utter prostration of body and mind, when John Marchmont had left her. +She let her weary head fall heavily against the carved oaken shaft that +supported the old-fashioned mantel-piece, heedless that her brow struck +sharply against the corner of the wood-work. + +If she could have died then, with no more sinful secret than a woman's +natural weakness hidden in her breast; if she could have died then, +while yet the first step upon the dark pathway of her life was +untrodden,--how happy for herself, how happy for others! How miserable +a record of sin and suffering might have remained unwritten in the +history of woman's life! + + * * * * * + +She sat long in the same attitude. Once, and once only, two solitary +tears gathered in her eyes, and rolled slowly down her pale cheeks. + +"Will you be sorry when I am married, Edward Arundel?" she murmured; +"will you be sorry?" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +"WHEN SHALL I CEASE TO BE ALL ALONE?" + + +Hubert Arundel was not so much surprised as might have been anticipated +at the proposal made him by his wealthy neighbour. Edward had prepared +his uncle for the possibility of such a proposal by sundry jocose +allusions and arch hints upon the subject of John Marchmont's +admiration for Olivia. The frank and rather frivolous young man thought +it was his cousin's handsome face that had captivated the master of +Marchmont Towers, and was quite unable to fathom the hidden motive +underlying all John's talk about Miss Arundel. + +The Rector of Swampington, being a simple-hearted and not very +far-seeing man, thanked God heartily for the chance that had befallen +his daughter. She would be well off and well cared for, then, by the +mercy of Providence, in spite of his own shortcomings, which had left +her with no better provision for the future than a pitiful Policy of +Assurance upon her father's life. She would be well provided for +henceforward, and would live in a handsome house; and all those noble +qualities which had been dwarfed and crippled in a narrow sphere would +now expand, and display themselves in unlooked-for grandeur. + +"People have called her a good girl," he thought; "but how could they +ever know her goodness, unless they had seen, as I have, the +deprivations she has borne so uncomplainingly?" + +John Marchmont, being newly instructed by his lawyer, was able to give +Mr. Arundel a very clear statement of the provision he could make for +his wife's future. He could settle upon her the nine thousand pounds +left him by Philip Marchmont. He would allow her five hundred a year +pin-money during his lifetime; he would leave her his savings at his +death; and he would effect an insurance upon his life for her benefit. +The amount of these savings would, of course, depend upon the length of +John's life; but the money would accumulate very quickly, as his income +was eleven thousand a year, and his expenditure was not likely to +exceed three. + +The Swampington living was worth little more than three hundred and +fifty pounds a year; and out of that sum Hubert Arundel and his +daughter had done treble as much good for the numerous poor of the +parish as ever had been achieved by any previous Rector or his family. +Hubert and his daughter had patiently endured the most grinding +poverty, the burden ever falling heavier on Olivia, who had the heroic +faculty of endurance as regards all physical discomfort. Can it be +wondered, then, that the Rector of Swampington thought the prospect +offered to his child a very brilliant one? Can it be wondered that he +urged his daughter to accept this altered lot? + +He did urge her, pleading John Marchmont's cause a great deal more +warmly than the widower had himself pleaded. + +"My darling," he said, "my darling girl! if I can live to see you +mistress of Marchmont Towers, I shall go to my grave contented and +happy. Think, my dear, of the misery from which this marriage will save +you. Oh, my dear girl, I can tell you now what I never dared tell you +before; I can tell you of the long, sleepless nights I have passed +thinking of you, and of the wicked wrongs I have done you. Not wilful +wrongs, my love," the Rector added, with the tears gathering in his +eyes; "for you know how dearly I have always loved you. But a father's +responsibility towards his children is a very heavy burden. I have only +looked at it in this light lately, my dear,--now that I've let the time +slip by, and it is too late to redeem the past. I've suffered very +much, Olivia; and all this has seemed to separate us, somehow. But +that's past now, isn't it, my dear? and you'll marry this Mr. +Marchmont. He appears to be a very good, conscientious man, and I think +he'll make you happy." + +The father and daughter were sitting together after dinner in the dusky +November twilight, the room only lighted by the fire, which was low and +dim. Hubert Arundel could not see his daughter's face as he talked to +her; he could only see the black outline of her figure sharply defined +against the grey window behind her, as she sat opposite to him. He +could see by her attitude that she was listening to him, with her head +drooping and her hands lying idle in her lap. + +She was silent for some little time after he had finished speaking; so +silent that he feared his words might have touched her too painfully, +and that she was crying. + +Heaven help this simple-hearted father! She had scarcely heard three +consecutive words that he had spoken, but had only gathered dimly from +his speech that he wanted her to accept John Marchmont's offer. + +Every great passion is a supreme egotism. It is not the object which we +hug so determinedly; it is not the object which coils itself about our +weak hearts: it is our own madness we worship and cleave to, our own +pitiable folly which we refuse to put away from us. What is Bill Sykes' +broken nose or bull-dog visage to Nancy? The creature she loves and +will not part from is not Bill, but her own love for Bill,--the one +delusion of a barren life; the one grand selfishness of a feeble +nature. + +Olivia Arundel's thoughts had wandered far away while her father had +spoken so piteously to her. She had been thinking of her cousin Edward, +and had been asking herself the same question over and over again. +Would he be sorry? would he be sorry if she married John Marchmont? + +But she understood presently that her father was waiting for her to +speak; and, rising from her chair, she went towards him, and laid her +hand upon his shoulder. + +"I am afraid I have not done my duty to you, papa," she said. + +Latterly she had been for ever harping upon this one theme,--her duty! +That word was the keynote of her life; and her existence had latterly +seemed to her so inharmonious, that it was scarcely strange she should +repeatedly strike that leading note in the scale. + +"My darling," cried Mr. Arundel, "you have been all that is good!" + +"No, no, papa; I have been cold, reserved, silent." + +"A little silent, my dear," the Rector answered meekly; "but you have +not been happy. I have watched you, my love, and I know you have not +been happy. But that is not strange. This place is so dull, and your +life has been so fatiguing. How different that would all be at +Marchmont Towers!" + +"You wish me to many Mr. Marchmont, then, papa?" + +"I do, indeed, my love. For your own sake, of course," the Rector added +deprecatingly. + +"You really wish it?" + +"Very, very much, my dear." + +"Then I will marry him, papa." + +She took her hand from the Rector's shoulder, and walked away from him +to the uncurtained window, against which she stood with her back to her +father, looking out into the grey obscurity. + +I have said that Hubert Arundel was not a very clever or far-seeing +person; but he vaguely felt that this was not exactly the way in which +a brilliant offer of marriage should be accepted by a young lady who +was entirely fancy-free, and he had an uncomfortable apprehension that +there was something hidden under his daughter's quiet manner. + +"But, my dear Olivia," he said nervously, "you must not for a moment +suppose that I would force you into this marriage, if it is in any way +repugnant to yourself. You--you may have formed some prior +attachment--or, there may be somebody who loves you, and has loved you +longer than Mr. Marchmont, who--" + +His daughter turned upon him sharply as he rambled on. + +"Somebody who loves me!" she echoed. "What have you ever seen that +should make you think any one loved me?" + +The harshness of her tone jarred upon Mr. Arundel, and made him still +more nervous. + +"My love, I beg your pardon, I have seen nothing. I--" + +"Nobody loves me, or has ever loved me,--but you," resumed Olivia, +taking no heed of her father's feeble interruption. "I am not the sort +of woman to be loved; I feel and know that. I have an aquiline nose, +and a clear skin, and dark eyes, and people call me handsome; but +nobody loves me, or ever will, so long as I live." + +"But Mr. Marchmont, my dear,--surely he loves and admires you?" +remonstrated the Rector. + +"Mr. Marchmont wants a governess and _chaperone_ for his daughter, and +thinks me a suitable person to fill such a post; that is all the _love_ +Mr. Marchmont has for me. No, papa; there is no reason I should shrink +from this marriage. There is no one who will be sorry for it; no one! I +am asked to perform a duty towards this little girl, and I am prepared +to perform it faithfully. That is my part of the bargain. Do I commit a +sin in marrying John Marchmont in this spirit, papa?" + +She asked the question eagerly, almost breathlessly; as if her decision +depended upon her father's answer. + +"A sin, my dear! How can you ask such a question?" + +"Very well, then; if I commit no sin in accepting this offer, I will +accept it." + +It was thus Olivia paltered with her conscience, holding back half the +truth. The question she should have asked was this, "Do I commit a sin +in marrying one man, while my heart is racked by a mad passion for +another?" + +Miss Arundel could not visit her poor upon the day after this interview +with her father. Her monotonous round of duty seemed more than ever +abhorrent to her. She wandered across the dreary marshes, down by the +lonely seashore, in the grey November fog. + +She stood for a long time, shivering with the cold dampness of the +atmosphere, but not even conscious that she was cold, looking at a +dilapidated boat that lay upon the rugged beach. The waters before her +and the land behind her were hidden by a dense veil of mist. It seemed +as if she stood alone in the world,--utterly isolated, utterly +forgotten. + +"O my God!" she murmured, "if this boat at my feet could drift me away +to some desert island, I could never be more desolate than I am, +amongst the people who do not love me." + +Dim lights in distant windows were gleaming across the flats when she +returned to Swampington, to find her father sitting alone and +dispirited at his frugal dinner. Miss Arundel took her place quietly at +the bottom of the table, no trace of emotion upon her face. + +"I am sorry I stayed out so long, papa" she said; "I had no idea it was +so late." + +"Never mind, my dear, I know you have always enough to occupy you. Mr. +Marchmont called while you were out. He seemed very anxious to hear +your decision, and was delighted when he found that it was favourable +to himself." + +Olivia dropped her knife and fork, and rose from her chair suddenly, +with a strange look, which was almost terror, in her face. + +"It is quite decided, then?" she said. + +"Yes, my love. But you are not sorry, are you?" + +"Sorry! No; I am glad." + +She sank back into her chair with a sigh of relief. She _was_ glad. The +prospect of this strange marriage offered a relief from the horrible +oppression of her life. + +"Henceforward to think of Edward Arundel will be a sin," she thought. +"I have not won another man's love; but I shall be another man's wife." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +MARY'S STEPMOTHER. + + +Perhaps there was never a quieter courtship than that which followed +Olivia's acceptance of John Marchmont's offer. There had been no +pretence of sentiment on either side; yet I doubt if John had been much +more sentimental during his early love-making days, though he had very +tenderly and truly loved his first wife. There were few sparks of the +romantic or emotional fire in his placid nature. His love for his +daughter, though it absorbed his whole being, was a silent and +undemonstrative affection; a thoughtful and almost fearful devotion, +which took the form of intense but hidden anxiety for his child's +future, rather than any outward show of tenderness. + +Had his love been of a more impulsive and demonstrative character, he +would scarcely have thought of taking such a step as that he now +contemplated, without first ascertaining whether it would be agreeable +to his daughter. + +But he never for a moment dreamt of consulting Mary's will upon this +important matter. He looked with fearful glances towards the dim +future, and saw his darling, a lonely figure upon a barren landscape, +beset by enemies eager to devour her; and he snatched at this one +chance of securing her a protectress, who would be bound to her by a +legal as well as a moral tie; for John Marchmont meant to appoint his +second wife the guardian of his child. He thought only of this; and he +hurried on his suit at the Rectory, fearful lest death should come +between him and his loveless bride, and thus deprive his darling of a +second mother. + +This was the history of John Marchmont's marriage. It was not till a +week before the day appointed for the wedding that he told his daughter +what he was about to do. Edward Arundel knew the secret, but he had +been warned not to reveal it to Mary. + +The father and daughter sat together late one evening in the first week +of December, in the great western drawing-room. Edward had gone to a +party at Swampington, and was to sleep at the Rectory; so Mary and her +father were alone. + +It was nearly eleven o'clock; but Miss Marchmont had insisted upon +sitting up until her father should retire to rest. She had always sat +up in Oakley Street, she had remonstrated, though she was much younger +then. She sat on a velvet-covered hassock at her father's feet, with +her loose hair falling over his knee, as her head lay there in loving +abandonment. She was not talking to him; for neither John nor Mary were +great talkers; but she was with him--that was quite enough. + +Mr. Marchmont's thin fingers twined themselves listlessly in and out of +the fair curls upon his knee. Mary was thinking of Edward and the party +at Swampington. Would he enjoy himself very, very much? Would he be +sorry that she was not there? It was a grown-up party, and she wasn't +old enough for grown-up parties yet. Would the pretty girls in blue be +there? and would he dance with them? + +Her father's face was clouded by a troubled expression, as he looked +absently at the red embers in the low fireplace. He spoke presently, +but his observation was a very commonplace one. The opening speeches of +a tragedy are seldom remarkable for any ominous or solemn meaning. Two +gentlemen meet each other in a street very near the footlights, and +converse rather flippantly about the aspect of affairs in general; +there is no hint of bloodshed and agony till we get deeper into the +play. + +So Mr. Marchmont, bent upon making rather an important communication to +his daughter, and for the first time feeling very fearful as to how she +would take it, began thus: + +"You really ought to go to bed earlier, Polly dear; you've been looking +very pale lately, and I know such hours as these must be bad for you." + +"Oh, no, papa dear," cried the young lady; "I'm always pale; that's +natural to me. Sitting up late doesn't hurt me, papa. It never did in +Oakley Street, you know." + +John Marchmont shook his head sadly. + +"I don't know that," he said. "My darling had to suffer many evils +through her father's poverty. If you had some one who loved you, dear, +a lady, you know,--for a man does not understand these sort of +things,--your health would be looked after more carefully, +and--and--your education--and--in short, you would be altogether +happier; wouldn't you, Polly darling?" + +He asked the question in an almost piteously appealing tone. A terrible +fear was beginning to take possession of him. His daughter might be +grieved at this second marriage. The very step which he had taken for +her happiness might cause her loving nature pain and sorrow. In the +utter cowardice of his affection he trembled at the thought of causing +his darling any distress in the present, even for her own +welfare,--even for her future good; and he _knew_ that the step he was +about to take would secure that. Mary started from her reclining +position, and looked up into her father's face. + +"You're not going to engage a governess for me, papa?" she cried +eagerly. "Oh, please don't. We are so much better as it is. A governess +would keep me away from you, papa; I know she would. The Miss Llandels, +at Impley Grange, have a governess; and they only come down to dessert +for half an hour, or go out for a drive sometimes, so that they very +seldom see their papa. Lucy told me so; and they said they'd give the +world to be always with their papa, as I am with you. Oh, pray, pray, +papa darling, don't let me have a governess." + +The tears were in her eyes as she pleaded to him. The sight of those +tears made him terribly nervous. + +"My own dear Polly," he said, "I'm not going to engage a governess. +I--; Polly, Polly dear, you must be reasonable. You mustn't grieve your +poor father. You are old enough to understand these things now, dear. +You know what the doctors have said. I may die, Polly, and leave you +alone in the world." + +She clung closely to her father, and looked up, pale and trembling, as +she answered him. + +"When you die, papa, I shall die too. I could never, never live without +you." + +"Yes, yes, my darling, you would. You will live to lead a happy life, +please God, and a safe one; but if I die, and leave you very young, +very inexperienced, and innocent, as I may do, my dear, you must not be +without a friend to watch over you, to advise, to protect you. I have +thought of this long and earnestly, Polly; and I believe that what I am +going to do is right." + +"What you are going to do!" Mary cried, repeating her father's words, +and looking at him in sudden terror. "What do you mean, papa? What are +you going to do? Nothing that will part us! O papa, papa, you will +never do anything to part us!" + +"No, Polly darling," answered Mr. Marchmont. "Whatever I do, I do for +your sake, and for that alone. I'm going to be married, my dear." + +Mary burst into a low wail, more pitiful than any ordinary weeping. + +"O papa, papa," she cried, "you never will, you never will!" + +The sound of that piteous voice for a few moments quite unmanned John +Marchmont; but he armed himself with a desperate courage. He determined +not to be influenced by this child to relinquish the purpose which he +believed was to achieve her future welfare. + +"Mary, Mary dear," he said reproachfully, "this is very cruel of you. +Do you think I haven't consulted your happiness before my own? Do you +think I shall love you less because I take this step for your sake? You +are very cruel to me, Mary." + +The little girl rose from her kneeling attitude, and stood before her +father, with the tears streaming down her white cheeks, but with a +certain air of resolution about her. She had been a child for a few +moments; a child, with no power to look beyond the sudden pang of that +new sorrow which had come to her. She was a woman now, able to rise +superior to her sorrow in the strength of her womanhood. + +"I won't be cruel, papa," she said; "I was selfish and wicked to talk +like that. If it will make you happy to have another wife, papa, I'll +not be sorry. No, I won't be sorry, even if your new wife separates +us--a little." + +"But, my darling," John remonstrated, "I don't mean that she should +separate us at all. I wish you to have a second friend, Polly; some one +who can understand you better than I do, who may love you perhaps +almost as well." Mary Marchmont shook her head; she could not realise +this possibility. "Do you understand me, my dear?" her father continued +earnestly. "I want you to have some one who will be a mother to you; +and I hope--I am sure that Olivia--" + +Mary interrupted him by a sudden exclamation, that was almost like a +cry of pain. + +"Not Miss Arundel!" she said. "O papa, it is not Miss Arundel you're +going to marry!" + +Her father bent his head in assent. + +"What is the matter with you, Mary?" he said, almost fretfully, as he +saw the look of mingled grief and terror in his daughter's face. "You +are really quite unreasonable to-night. If I am to marry at all, who +should I choose for a wife? Who could be better than Olivia Arundel? +Everybody knows how good she is. Everybody talks of her goodness." + +In these two sentences Mr. Marchmont made confession of a fact he had +never himself considered. It was not his own impulse, it was no +instinctive belief in her goodness, that had led him to choose Olivia +Arundel for his wife. He had been influenced solely by the reiterated +opinions of other people. + +"I know she is very good, papa," Mary cried; "but, oh, why, why do you +marry her? Do you love her so very, very much?" + +"Love her!" exclaimed Mr. Marchmont naively; "no, Polly dear; you know +I never loved any one but you." + +"Why do you marry her then?" + +"For your sake, Polly; for your sake." + +"But don't then, papa; oh, pray, pray don't. I don't want her. I don't +like her. I could never be happy with her." + +"Mary! Mary!" + +"Yes, I know it's very wicked to say so, but it's true, papa; I never, +never, never could be happy with her. I know she is good, but I don't +like her. If I did anything wrong, I should never expect her to forgive +me for it; I should never expect her to have mercy upon me. Don't marry +her, papa; pray, pray don't marry her." + +"Mary," said Mr. Marchmont resolutely, "this is very wrong of you. I +have given my word, my dear, and I cannot recall it. I believe that I +am acting for the best. You must not be childish now, Mary. You have +been my comfort ever since you were a baby; you mustn't make me unhappy +now." + +Her father's appeal went straight to her heart. Yes, she had been his +help and comfort since her earliest infancy, and she was not unused to +self-sacrifice: why should she fail him now? She had read of martyrs, +patient and holy creatures, to whom suffering was glory; she would be a +martyr, if need were, for his sake. She would stand steadfast amid the +blazing fagots, or walk unflinchingly across the white-hot ploughshare, +for his sake, for his sake. + +"Papa, papa," she cried, flinging herself upon her father's neck, "I +will not make you sorry. I will be good and obedient to Miss Arundel, +if you wish it." + +Mr. Marchmont carried his little girl up to her comfortable bedchamber, +close at hand to his own. She was very calm when she bade him good +night, and she kissed him with a smile upon her face; but all through +the long hours before the late winter morning Mary Marchmont lay awake, +weeping silently and incessantly in her new sorrow; and all through the +same weary hours the master of that noble Lincolnshire mansion slept a +fitful and troubled slumber, rendered hideous by confused and horrible +dreams, in which the black shadow that came between him and his child, +and the cruel hand that thrust him for ever from his darling, were +Olivia Arundel's. + +But the morning light brought relief to John Marchmont and his child. +Mary arose with the determination to submit patiently to her father's +choice, and to conceal from him all traces of her foolish and +unreasoning sorrow. John awoke from troubled dreams to believe in the +wisdom of the step he had taken, and to take comfort from the thought +that in the far-away future his daughter would have reason to thank and +bless him for the choice he had made. + +So the few days before the marriage passed away--miserably short days, +that flitted by with terrible speed; and the last day of all was made +still more dismal by the departure of Edward Arundel, who left +Marchmont Towers to go to Dangerfield Park, whence he was most likely +to start once more for India. + +Mary felt that her narrow world of love was indeed crumbling away from +her. Edward was lost, and to-morrow her father would belong to another. +Mr. Marchmont dined at the Rectory upon that last evening; for there +were settlements to be signed, and other matters to be arranged; and +Mary was alone--quite alone--weeping over her lost happiness. + +"This would never have happened," she thought, "if we hadn't come to +Marchmont Towers. I wish papa had never had the fortune; we were so +happy in Oakley Street,--so very happy. I wouldn't mind a bit being +poor again, if I could be always with papa." + +Mr. Marchmont had not been able to make himself quite comfortable in +his mind, after that unpleasant interview with his daughter in which he +had broken to her the news of his approaching marriage. Argue with +himself as he might upon the advisability of the step he was about to +take, he could not argue away the fact that he had grieved the child he +loved so intensely. He could not blot away from his memory the pitiful +aspect of her terror-stricken face as she had turned it towards him +when he uttered the name of Olivia Arundel. + +No; he had grieved and distressed her. The future might reconcile her +to that grief, perhaps, as a bygone sorrow which she had been allowed +to suffer for her own ultimate advantage. But the future was a long way +off: and in the meantime there was Mary's altered face, calm and +resigned, but bearing upon it a settled look of sorrow, very close at +hand; and John Marchmont could not be otherwise than unhappy in the +knowledge of his darling's grief. + +I do not believe that any man or woman is ever suffered to take a fatal +step upon the roadway of life without receiving ample warning by the +way. The stumbling-blocks are placed in the fatal path by a merciful +hand; but we insist upon clambering over them, and surmounting them in +our blind obstinacy, to reach that shadowy something beyond, which we +have in our ignorance appointed to be our goal. A thousand ominous +whispers in his own breast warned John Marchmont that the step he +considered so wise was not a wise one: and yet, in spite of all these +subtle warnings, in spite of the ever-present reproach of his +daughter's altered face, this man, who was too weak to trust blindly in +his God, went on persistently upon his way, trusting, with a thousand +times more fatal blindness, in his own wisdom. + +He could not be content to confide his darling and her altered fortunes +to the Providence which had watched over her in her poverty, and +sheltered her from every harm. He could not trust his child to the +mercy of God; but he cast her upon the love of Olivia Arundel. + +A new life began for Mary Marchmont after the quiet wedding at +Swampington Church. The bride and bridegroom went upon a brief +honeymoon excursion far away amongst snow-clad Scottish mountains and +frozen streams, upon whose bloomless margins poor John shivered +dismally. I fear that Mr. Marchmont, having been, by the hard pressure +of poverty, compelled to lead a Cockney life for the better half of his +existence, had but slight relish for the grand and sublime in nature. I +do not think he looked at the ruined walls which had once sheltered +Macbeth and his strong-minded partner with all the enthusiasm which +might have been expected of him. He had but one idea about Macbeth, and +he was rather glad to get out of the neighbourhood associated with the +warlike Thane; for his memories of the past presented King Duncan's +murderer as a very stern and uncompromising gentleman, who was utterly +intolerant of banners held awry, or turned with the blank and ignoble +side towards the audience, and who objected vehemently to a violent fit +of coughing on the part of any one of his guests during the blank +barmecide feast of pasteboard and Dutch metal with which he was wont to +entertain them. No; John Marchmont had had quite enough of Macbeth, and +rather wondered at the hot enthusiasm of other red-nosed tourists, +apparently indifferent to the frosty weather. + +I fear that the master of Marchmont Towers would have preferred Oakley +Street, Lambeth, to Princes Street, Edinburgh; for the nipping and +eager airs of the Modern Athens nearly blew him across the gulf between +the new town and the old. A visit to the Calton Hill produced an attack +of that chronic cough which had so severely tormented the weak-kneed +supernumerary in the draughty corridors of Drury Lane. Melrose and +Abbotsford fatigued this poor feeble tourist; he tried to be interested +in the stereotyped round of associations beloved by other travellers, +but he had a weary craving for rest, which was stronger than any +hero-worship; and he discovered, before long, that he had done a very +foolish thing in coming to Scotland in December and January, without +having consulted his physician as to the propriety of such a step. + +But above all personal inconvenience, above all personal suffering, +there was one feeling ever present in his heart--a sick yearning for +the little girl he had left behind him; a mournful longing to be back +with his child. Already Mary's sad forebodings had been in some way +realised; already his new wife had separated him, unintentionally of +course, from his daughter. The aches and pains he endured in the bleak +Scottish atmosphere reminded him only too forcibly of the warnings he +had received from his physicians. He was seized with a panic, almost, +when he remembered his own imprudence. What if he had needlessly +curtailed the short span of his life? What if he were to die +soon--before Olivia had learned to love her stepdaughter; before Mary +had grown affectionately familiar with her new guardian? Again and +again he appealed to his wife, imploring her to be tender to the orphan +child, if he should be snatched away suddenly. + +"I know you will love her by-and-by, Olivia," he said; "as much as I +do, perhaps; for you will discover how good she is, how patient and +unselfish. But just at first, and before you know her very well, you +will be kind to her, won't you, Olivia? She has been used to great +indulgence; she has been spoiled, perhaps; but you'll remember all +that, and be very kind to her?" + +"I will try and do my duty," Mrs. Marchmont answered. "I pray that I +never may do less." + +There was no tender yearning in Olivia Marchmont's heart towards the +motherless girl. She herself felt that such a sentiment was wanting, +and comprehended that it should have been there. She would have loved +her stepdaughter in those early days, if she could have done so; but +_she could not_--she could not. All that was tender or womanly in her +nature had been wasted upon her hopeless love for Edward Arundel. The +utter wreck of that small freight of affection had left her nature +warped and stunted, soured, disappointed, unwomanly. + +How was she to love this child, this hazel-haired, dove-eyed girl, +before whom woman's life, with all its natural wealth of affection, +stretched far away, a bright and fairy vista? How was _she_ to love +her,--she, whose black future was unchequered by one ray of light; who +stood, dissevered from the past, alone in the dismal, dreamless +monotony of the present? + +"No" she thought; "beggars and princes can never love one another. When +this girl and I are equals,--when she, like me, stands alone upon a +barren rock, far out amid the waste of waters, with not one memory to +hold her to the past, with not one hope to lure her onward to the +future, with nothing but the black sky above and the black waters +around,--_then_ we may grow fond of each other." + +But always more or less steadfast to the standard she had set up for +herself, Olivia Marchmont intended to do her duty to her stepdaughter. +She had not failed in other duties, though no glimmer of love had +brightened them, no natural affection had made them pleasant. Why +should she fail in this? + +If this belief in her own power should appear to be somewhat arrogant, +let it be remembered that she had set herself hard tasks before now, +and had performed them. Would the new furnace through which she was to +pass be more terrible than the old fires? She had gone to God's altar +with a man for whom she had no more love than she felt for the lowest +or most insignificant of the miserable sinners in her father's flock. +She had sworn to honour and obey him, meaning at least faithfully to +perform that portion of her vow; and on the night before her loveless +bridal she had grovelled, white, writhing, mad, and desperate, upon the +ground, and had plucked out of her lacerated heart her hopeless love +for another man. + +Yes; she had done this. Another woman might have spent that bridal eve +in vain tears and lamentations, in feeble prayers, and such weak +struggles as might have been evidenced by the destruction of a few +letters, a tress of hair, some fragile foolish tokens of a wasted love. +She would have burnt five out of six letters, perhaps, that helpless, +ordinary sinner, and would have kept the sixth, to hoard away hidden +among her matrimonial trousseau; she would have thrown away +fifteen-sixteenths of that tress of hair, and would have kept the +sixteenth portion,--one delicate curl of gold, slender as the thread by +which her shattered hopes had hung,--to be wept over and kissed in the +days that were to come. An ordinary woman would have played fast and +loose with love and duty; and so would have been true to neither. + +But Olivia Arundel did none of these things. She battled with her +weakness as St George battled with the fiery dragon. She plucked the +rooted serpent from her heart, reckless as to how much of that +desperate heart was to be wrenched away with its roots. A cowardly +woman would have killed herself, perhaps, rather than endure this +mortal agony. Olivia Arundel killed more than herself; she killed the +passion that had become stronger than herself. + +"Alone she did it;" unaided by any human sympathy or compassion, +unsupported by any human counsel, not upheld by her God; for the +religion she had made for herself was a hard creed, and the many words +of tender comfort which must have been familiar to her were +unremembered in that long night of anguish. + +It was the Roman's stern endurance, rather than the meek faithfulness +of the Christian, which upheld this unhappy girl under her torture. She +did not do this thing because it pleased her to be obedient to her God. +She did not do it because she believed in the mercy of Him who +inflicted the suffering, and looked forward hopefully, even amid her +passionate grief, to the day when she should better comprehend that +which she now saw so darkly. No; she fought the terrible fight, and she +came forth out of it a conqueror, by reason of her own indomitable +power of suffering, by reason of her own extraordinary strength of +will. + +But she did conquer. If her weapon was the classic sword and not the +Christian cross, she was nevertheless a conqueror. When she stood +before the altar and gave her hand to John Marchmont, Edward Arundel +was dead to her. The fatal habit of looking at him as the one centre of +her narrow life was cured. In all her Scottish wanderings, her thoughts +never once went back to him; though a hundred chance words and +associations tempted her, though a thousand memories assailed her, +though some trick of his face in the faces of other people, though some +tone of his voice in the voices of strangers, perpetually offered to +entrap her. No; she was steadfast. + +Dutiful as a wife as she had been dutiful as a daughter, she bore with +her husband when his feeble health made him a wearisome companion. She +waited upon him when pain made him fretful, and her duties became +little less arduous than those of a hospital nurse. When, at the +bidding of the Scotch physician who had been called in at Edinburgh, +John Marchmont turned homewards, travelling slowly and resting often on +the way, his wife was more devoted to him than his experienced servant, +more watchful than the best-trained sick-nurse. She recoiled from +nothing, she neglected nothing; she gave him full measure of the honour +and obedience which she had promised upon her wedding-day. And when she +reached Marchmont Towers upon a dreary evening in January, she passed +beneath the solemn portal of the western front, carrying in her heart +the full determination to hold as steadfastly to the other half of her +bargain, and to do her duty to her stepchild. + +Mary ran out of the western drawing-room to welcome her father and his +wife. She had cast off her black dresses in honour of Mr. Marchmont's +marriage, and she wore some soft, silken fabric, of a pale shimmering +blue, which contrasted exquisitely with her soft, brown hair, and her +fair, tender face. She uttered a cry of mingled alarm and sorrow when +she saw her father, and perceived the change that had been made in his +looks by the northern journey; but she checked herself at a warning +glance from her stepmother, and bade that dear father welcome, clinging +about him with an almost desperate fondness. She greeted Olivia gently +and respectfully. + +"I will try to be very good, mamma," she said, as she took the passive +hand of the lady who had come to rule at Marchmont Towers. + +"I believe you will, my dear," Olivia answered, kindly. + +She had been startled a little as Mary addressed her by that endearing +corruption of the holy word mother. The child had been so long +motherless, that she felt little of that acute anguish which some +orphans suffer when they have to look up in a strange face and say +"mamma." She had taught herself the lesson of resignation, and she was +prepared to accept this stranger as her new mother, and to look up to +her and obey her henceforward. No thought of her own future position, +as sole owner of that great house and all appertaining to it, ever +crossed Mary Marchmont's mind, womanly as that mind had become in the +sharp experiences of poverty. If her father had told her that he had +cut off the entail, and settled Marchmont Towers upon his new wife, I +think she would have submitted meekly to his will, and would have seen +no injustice in the act. She loved him blindly and confidingly. Indeed, +she could only love after one fashion. The organ of veneration must +have been abnormally developed in Mary Marchmont's head. To believe +that any one she loved was otherwise than perfect, would have been, in +her creed, an infidelity against love. Had any one told her that Edward +Arundel was not eminently qualified for the post of General-in-Chief of +the Army of the Indus; or that her father could by any possible chance +be guilty of a fault or folly: she would have recoiled in horror from +the treasonous slanderer. + +A dangerous quality, perhaps, this quality of guilelessness which +thinketh no evil, which cannot be induced to see the evil under its +very nose. But surely, of all the beautiful and pure things upon this +earth, such blind confidence is the purest and most beautiful. I knew a +lady, dead and gone,--alas for this world, which could ill afford to +lose so good a Christian!--who carried this trustfulness of spirit, +this utter incapacity to believe in wrong, through all the strife and +turmoil of a troubled life, unsullied and unlessened, to her grave. She +was cheated and imposed upon, robbed and lied to, by people who loved +her, perhaps, while they wronged her,--for to know her was to love her. +She was robbed systematically by a confidential servant for years, and +for years refused to believe those who told her of his delinquencies. +She _could_ not believe that people were wicked. To the day of her +death she had faith in the scoundrels and scamps who had profited by +her sweet compassion and untiring benevolence; and indignantly defended +them against those who dared to say that they were anything more than +"unfortunate." To go to her was to go to a never-failing fountain of +love and tenderness. To know her goodness was to understand the +goodness of God; for her love approached the Infinite, and might have +taught a sceptic the possibility of Divinity. Three-score years and ten +of worldly experience left her an accomplished lady, a delightful +companion; but in guilelessness a child. + +So Mary Marchmont, trusting implicitly in those she loved, submitted to +her father's will, and prepared to obey her stepmother. The new life at +the Towers began very peacefully; a perfect harmony reigned in the +quiet household. Olivia took the reins of management with so little +parade, that the old housekeeper, who had long been paramount in the +Lincolnshire mansion, found herself superseded before she knew where +she was. It was Olivia's nature to govern. Her strength of will +asserted itself almost unconsciously. She took possession of Mary +Marchmont as she had taken possession of her school-children at +Swampington, making her own laws for the government of their narrow +intellects. She planned a routine of study that was actually terrible +to the little girl, whose education had hitherto been conducted in a +somewhat slip-slop manner by a weakly-indulgent father. She came +between Mary and her one amusement,--the reading of novels. The +half-bound romances were snatched ruthlessly from this young devourer +of light literature, and sent back to the shabby circulating library at +Swampington. Even the gloomy old oak book-cases in the library at the +Towers, and the Abbotsford edition of the Waverley Novels, were +forbidden to poor Mary; for, though Sir Walter Scott's morality is +irreproachable, it will not do for a young lady to be weeping over Lucy +Ashton or Amy Robsart when she should be consulting her terrestrial +globe, and informing herself as to the latitude and longitude of the +Fiji Islands. + +So a round of dry and dreary lessons began for poor Miss Marchmont, and +her brain grew almost dazed under that continuous and pelting shower of +hard facts which many worthy people consider the one sovereign method +of education. I have said that her mind was far in advance of her +years; Olivia perceived this, and set her tasks in advance of her mind: +in order that the perfection attained by a sort of steeple-chase of +instruction might not be lost to her. If Mary learned difficult lessons +with surprising rapidity, Mrs. Marchmont plied her with even yet more +difficult lessons, thus keeping the spur perpetually in the side of +this heavily-weighted racer on the road to learning. But it must not be +thought that Olivia wilfully tormented or oppressed her stepdaughter. +It was not so. In all this, John Marchmont's second wife implicitly +believed that she was doing her duty to the child committed to her +care. She fully believed that this dreary routine of education was wise +and right, and would be for Mary's ultimate advantage. If she caused +Miss Marchmont to get up at abnormal hours on bleak wintry mornings, +for the purpose of wrestling with a difficult variation by Hertz or +Schubert, she herself rose also, and sat shivering by the piano, +counting the time of the music which her stepdaughter played. + +Whatever pains and trouble she inflicted on Mary, she most +unshrinkingly endured herself. She waded through the dismal slough of +learning side by side with the younger sufferer: Roman emperors, +medieval schisms, early British manufactures, Philippa of Hainault, +Flemish woollen stuffs, Magna Charta, the sidereal heavens, Luther, +Newton, Huss, Galileo, Calvin, Loyola, Sir Robert Walpole, Cardinal +Wolsey, conchology, Arianism in the Early Church, trial by jury, Habeas +Corpus, zoology, Mr. Pitt, the American war, Copernicus, Confucius, +Mahomet, Harvey, Jenner, Lycurgus, and Catherine of Arragon; through a +very diabolical dance of history, science, theology, philosophy, and +instruction of all kinds, did this devoted priestess lead her hapless +victim, struggling onward towards that distant altar at which Pallas +Athene waited, pale and inscrutable, to receive a new disciple. + +But Olivia Marchmont did not mean to be unmerciful; she meant to be +good to her stepdaughter. She did not love her; but, on the other hand, +she did not dislike her. Her feelings were simply negative. Mary +understood this, and the submissive obedience she rendered to her +stepmother was untempered by affection. So for nearly two years these +two people led a monotonous life, unbroken by any more important event +than a dinner party at Marchmont Towers, or a brief visit to Harrowgate +or Scarborough. + +This monotonous existence was not to go on for ever. The fatal day, so +horribly feared by John Marchmont, was creeping closer and closer. The +sorrow which had been shadowed in every childish dream, in every +childish prayer, came at last; and Mary Marchmont was left an orphan. + +Poor John had never quite recovered the effects of his winter excursion +to Scotland; neither his wife's devoted nursing, nor his physician's +care, could avail for ever; and, late in the autumn of the second year +of his marriage, he sank, slowly and peacefully enough as regards +physical suffering, but not without bitter grief of mind. + +In vain Hubert Arundel talked to him; in vain did he himself pray for +faith and comfort in this dark hour of trial. He _could_ not bear to +leave his child alone in the world. In the foolishness of his love, he +would have trusted in the strength of his own arm to shield her in the +battle; yet he could not trust her hopefully to the arm of God. He +prayed for her night and day during the last week of his illness; while +she was praying passionately, almost madly, that he might be spared to +her, or that she might die with him. Better for her, according to all +mortal reasoning, if she had. Happier for her, a thousand times, if she +could have died as she wished to die, clinging to her father's breast. + +The blow fell at last upon those two loving hearts. These were the +awful shadows of death that shut his child's face from John Marchmont's +fading sight. His feeble arms groped here and there for her in that dim +and awful obscurity. + +Yes, this was death. The narrow tract of yellow sand had little by +little grown narrower and narrower. The dark and cruel waters were +closing in; the feeble boat went down into the darkness: and Mary stood +alone, with her dead father's hand clasped in hers,--the last feeble +link which bound her to the Past,--looking blankly forward to an +unknown Future. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE DAY OF DESOLATION. + + +Yes; the terrible day had come. Mary Marchmont roamed hither and +thither in the big gaunt rooms, up and down the long dreary corridors, +white and ghostlike in her mute anguish, while the undertaker's men +were busy in her father's chamber, and while John's widow sat in the +study below, writing business letters, and making all necessary +arrangements for the funeral. + +In those early days no one attempted to comfort the orphan. There was +something more terrible than the loudest grief in the awful quiet of +the girl's anguish. The wan eyes, looking wearily out of a white +haggard face, that seemed drawn and contracted as if by some hideous +physical torture, were tearless. Except the one long wail of despair +which had burst from her lips in the awful moment of her father's death +agony, no cry of sorrow, no utterance of pain, had given relief to Mary +Marchmont's suffering. + +She suffered, and was still. She shrank away from all human +companionship; she seemed specially to avoid the society of her +stepmother. She locked the door of her room upon all who would have +intruded on her, and flung herself upon the bed, to lie there in a dull +stupor for hour after hour. But when the twilight was grey in the +desolate corridors, the wretched girl wandered out into the gallery on +which her father's room opened, and hovered near that solemn +death-chamber; fearful to go in, fearful to encounter the watchers of +the dead, lest they should torture her by their hackneyed expressions +of sympathy, lest they should agonise her by their commonplace talk of +the lost. + +Once during that brief interval, while the coffin still held terrible +tenancy of the death-chamber, the girl wandered in the dead of the +night, when all but the hired watchers were asleep, to the broad +landing of the oaken staircase, and into a deep recess formed by an +embayed window that opened over the great stone porch which sheltered +the principal entrance to Marchmont Towers. + +The window had been left open; for even in the bleak autumn weather the +atmosphere of the great house seemed hot and oppressive to its living +inmates, whose spirits were weighed down by a vague sense of the Awful +Presence in that Lincolnshire mansion. Mary had wandered to this open +window, scarcely knowing whither she went, after remaining for a long +time on her knees by the threshold of her father's room, with her head +resting against the oaken panel of the door,--not praying; why should +she pray now, unless her prayers could have restored the dead? She had +come out upon the wide staircase, and past the ghostly pictured faces, +that looked grimly down upon her from the oaken wainscot against which +they hung; she had wandered here in the dim grey light--there was light +somewhere in the sky, but only a shadowy and uncertain glimmer of +fading starlight or coming dawn--and she stood now with her head +resting against one of the angles of the massive stonework, looking out +of the open window. + +The morning which was already glimmering dimly in the eastern sky +behind Marchmont Towers was to witness poor John's funeral. For nearly +six days Mary Marchmont had avoided all human companionship: for nearly +six days she had shunned all human sympathy and comfort. During all +that time she had never eaten, except when forced to do so by her +stepmother; who had visited her from time to time, and had insisted +upon sitting by her bedside while she took the food that had been +brought to her. Heaven knows how often the girl had slept during those +six dreary days; but her feverish slumbers had brought her very little +rest or refreshment. They had brought her nothing but cruel dreams, in +which her father was still alive; in which she felt his thin arms +clasped round her neck, his faint and fitful breath warm upon her +cheek. + +A great clock in the stables struck five while Mary Marchmont stood +looking out of the Tudor window. The broad grey flat before the house +stretched far away, melting into the shadowy horizon. The pale stars +grew paler as Mary looked at them; the black-water pools began to +glimmer faintly under the widening patch of light in the eastern sky. +The girl's senses were bewildered by her suffering, and her head was +light and dizzy. + +Her father's death had made so sudden and terrible a break in her +existence, that she could scarcely believe the world had not come to an +end, with all the joys and sorrows of its inhabitants. Would there be +anything more after to-morrow? she thought; would the blank days and +nights go monotonously on when the story that had given them a meaning +and a purpose had come to its dismal end? Surely not; surely, after +those gaunt iron gates, far away across the swampy waste that was +called a park, had closed upon her father's funeral train, the world +would come to an end, and there would be no more time or space. I think +she really believed this in the semi-delirium into which she had fallen +within the last hour. She believed that all would be over; and that she +and her despair would melt away into the emptiness that was to engulf +the universe after her father's funeral. + +Then suddenly the full reality of her grief flashed upon her with +horrible force. She clasped her hands upon her forehead, and a low +faint cry broke from her white lips. + +It was _not_ all over. Time and space would _not_ be annihilated. The +weary, monotonous, workaday world would still go on upon its course. +_Nothing_ would be changed. The great gaunt stone mansion would still +stand, and the dull machinery of its interior would still go on: the +same hours; the same customs; the same inflexible routine. John +Marchmont would be carried out of the house that had owned him master, +to lie in the dismal vault under Kemberling Church; and the world in +which he had made so little stir would go on without him. The +easy-chair in which he had been wont to sit would be wheeled away from +its corner by the fireplace in the western drawing-room. The papers in +his study would be sorted and put away, or taken possession of by +strange hands. Cromwells and Napoleons die, and the earth reels for a +moment, only to be "alive and bold" again in the next instant, to the +astonishment of poets, and the calm satisfaction of philosophers; and +ordinary people eat their breakfasts while the telegram lies beside +them upon the table, and while the ink in which Mr. Reuter's message is +recorded is still wet from the machine in Printing-house Square. + +Anguish and despair more terrible than any of the tortures she had felt +yet took possession of Mary Marchmont's breast. For the first time she +looked out at her own future. Until now she had thought only of her +father's death. She had despaired because he was gone; but she had +never contemplated the horror of her future life,--a life in which she +was to exist without him. A sudden agony, that was near akin to +madness, seized upon this girl, in whose sensitive nature affection had +always had a morbid intensity. She shuddered with a wild dread at the +prospect of that blank future; and as she looked out at the wide stone +steps below the window from which she was leaning, for the first time +in her young life the idea of self-destruction flashed across her mind. + +She uttered a cry, a shrill, almost unearthly cry, that was +notwithstanding low and feeble, and clambered suddenly upon the broad +stone sill of the Tudor casement. She wanted to fling herself down and +dash her brains out upon the stone steps below; but in the utter +prostration of her state she was too feeble to do this, and she fell +backwards and dropped in a heap upon the polished oaken flooring of the +recess, striking her forehead as she fell. She lay there unconscious +until nearly seven o'clock, when one of the women-servants found her, +and carried her off to her own room, where she suffered herself to be +undressed and put to bed. + +Mary Marchmont did not speak until the good-hearted Lincolnshire +housemaid had laid her in her bed, and was going away to tell Olivia of +the state in which she had found the orphan girl. + +"Don't tell my stepmother anything about me, Susan," she said; "I think +I was mad last night." + +This speech frightened the housemaid, and she went straight to the +widow's room. Mrs. Marchmont, always an early riser, had been up and +dressed for some time, and went at once to look at her stepdaughter. + +She found Mary very calm and reasonable. There was no trace of +bewilderment or delirium now in her manner; and when the principal +doctor of Swampington came a couple of hours afterwards to look at the +young heiress, he declared that there was no cause for any alarm. The +young lady was sensitive, morbidly sensitive, he said, and must be kept +very quiet for a few days, and watched by some one whose presence would +not annoy her. If there was any girl of her own age whom she had ever +shown a predilection for, that girl would be the fittest companion for +her just now. After a few days, it would be advisable that she should +have change of air and change of scene. She must not be allowed to +brood continuously on her father's death. The doctor repeated this last +injunction more than once. It was most important that she should not +give way too perpetually to her grief. + +So Mary Marchmont lay in her darkened room while her father's funeral +train was moving slowly away from the western entrance. It happened +that the orphan girl's apartments looked out into the quadrangle; so +she heard none of the subdued sounds which attended the departure of +that solemn procession. In her weakness she had grown submissive to the +will of others. She thought this feebleness and exhaustion gave warning +of approaching death. Her prayers would be granted, after all. This +anguish and despair would be but of brief duration, and she would ere +long be carried to the vault under Kemberling Church, to lie beside her +father in the black stillness of that solemn place. + +Mrs. Marchmont strictly obeyed the doctor's injunctions. A girl of +seventeen, the daughter of a small tenant farmer near the Towers, had +been a special favourite with Mary, who was not apt to make friends +amongst strangers. This girl, Hester Pollard, was sent for, and came +willingly and gladly to watch her young patroness. She brought her +needlework with her, and sat near the window busily employed, while +Mary lay shrouded by the curtains of the bed. All active services +necessary for the comfort of the invalid were performed by Olivia or +her own special attendant--an old servant who had lived with the Rector +ever since his daughter's birth, and had only left him to follow that +daughter to Marchmont Towers after her marriage. So Hester Pollard had +nothing to do but to keep very quiet, and patiently await the time when +Mary might be disposed to talk to her. The farmer's daughter was a +gentle, unobtrusive creature, very well fitted for the duty imposed +upon her. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +PAUL. + + +Olivia Marchmont sat in her late husband's study while John's funeral +train was moving slowly along under the misty October sky. A long +stream of carriages followed the stately hearse, with its four black +horses, and its voluminous draperies of rich velvet, and nodding plumes +that were damp and heavy with the autumn atmosphere. The unassuming +master of Marchmont Towers had won for himself a quiet popularity +amongst the simple country gentry, and the best families in +Lincolnshire had sent their chiefs to do honour to his burial, or at +the least their empty carriages to represent them at that mournful +ceremonial. Olivia sat in her dead husband's favourite chamber. Her +head lay back upon the cushion of the roomy morocco-covered arm-chair +in which he had so often sat. She had been working hard that morning, +and indeed every morning since John Marchmont's death, sorting and +arranging papers, with the aid of Richard Paulette, the Lincoln's Inn +solicitor, and James Gormby, the land-steward. She knew that she had +been left sole guardian of her stepdaughter, and executrix to her +husband's will; and she had lost no time in making herself acquainted +with the business details of the estate, and the full nature of the +responsibilities intrusted to her. + +She was resting now. She had done all that could be done until after +the reading of the will. She had attended to her stepdaughter. She had +stood in one of the windows of the western drawing-room, watching the +departure of the funeral _cortege_; and now she abandoned herself for a +brief space to that idleness which was so unusual to her. + +A fire burned in the low grate at her feet, and a rough cur--half +shepherd's dog, half Scotch deer-hound, who had been fond of John, but +was not fond of Olivia--lay at the further extremity of the hearth-rug, +watching her suspiciously. + +Mrs. Marchmont's personal appearance had not altered during the two +years of her married life. Her face was thin and haggard; but it had +been thin and haggard before her marriage. And yet no one could deny +that the face was handsome, and the features beautifully chiselled. But +the grey eyes were hard and cold, the line of the faultless eyebrows +gave a stern expression to the countenance; the thin lips were rigid +and compressed. The face wanted both light and colour. A sculptor +copying it line by line would have produced a beautiful head. A painter +must have lent his own glowing tints if he wished to represent Olivia +Marchmont as a lovely woman. + +Her pale face looked paler, and her dead black hair blacker, against +the blank whiteness of her widow's cap. Her mourning dress clung +closely to her tall, slender figure. She was little more than +twenty-five, but she looked a woman of thirty. It had been her +misfortune to look older than she was from a very early period in her +life. + +She had not loved her husband when she married him, nor had she ever +felt for him that love which in most womanly natures grows out of +custom and duty. It was not in her nature to love. Her passionate +idolatry of her boyish cousin had been the one solitary affection that +had ever held a place in her cold heart. All the fire of her nature had +been concentrated in this one folly, this one passion, against which +only heroic endurance had been able to prevail. + +Mrs. Marchmont felt no grief, therefore, at her husband's loss. She had +felt the shock of his death, and the painful oppression of his dead +presence in the house. She had faithfully nursed him through many +illnesses; she had patiently tended him until the very last; she had +done her duty. And now, for the first time, she had leisure to +contemplate the past, and look forward to the future. + +So far this woman had fulfilled the task which she had taken upon +herself; she had been true and loyal to the vow she had made before +God's altar, in the church of Swampington. And now she was free. No, +not quite free; for she had a heavy burden yet upon her hands; the +solemn charge of her stepdaughter during the girl's minority. But as +regarded marriage-vows and marriage-ties she was free. + +She was free to love Edward Arundel again. + +The thought came upon her with a rush and an impetus, wild and strong +as the sudden uprising of a whirlwind, or the loosing of a +mountain-torrent that had long been bound. She was a wife no longer. It +was no longer a sin to think of the bright-haired soldier, fighting far +away. She was free. When Edward returned to England by-and-by, he would +find her free once more; a young widow,--young, handsome, and rich +enough to be no bad prize for a younger son. He would come back and +find her thus; and then--and then--! + +She flung one of her clenched hands up into the air, and struck it on +her forehead in a sudden paroxysm of rage. What then? Would he love her +any better then than he had loved her two years ago? No; he would treat +her with the same cruel indifference, the same commonplace cousinly +friendliness, with which he had mocked and tortured her before. Oh, +shame! Oh, misery! Was there no pride in women, that there could be one +among them fallen so low as her; ready to grovel at the feet of a +fair-haired boy, and to cry aloud, "Love me, love me! or be pitiful, +and strike me dead!" + +Better that John Marchmont should have lived for ever, better that +Edward Arundel should die far away upon some Eastern battle-field, +before some Affghan fortress, than that he should return to inflict +upon her the same tortures she had writhed under two years before. + +"God grant that he may never come back!" she thought. "God grant that +he may marry out yonder, and live and die there! God keep him from me +for ever and far ever in this weary world!" + +And yet in the next moment, with the inconsistency which is the chief +attribute of that madness we call love, her thoughts wandered away +dreamily into visions of the future; and she pictured Edward Arundel +back again at Swampington, at Marchmont Towers. Her soul burst its +bonds and expanded, and drank in the sunlight of gladness: and she +dared to think that it _might_ be so--there _might_ be happiness yet +for her. He had been a boy when he went back to India--careless, +indifferent. He would return a man,--graver, wiser, altogether changed: +changed so much as to love her perhaps. + +She knew that, at least, no rival had shut her cousin's heart against +her, when she and he had been together two years before. He had been +indifferent to her; but he had been indifferent to others also. There +was comfort in that recollection. She had questioned him very sharply +as to his life in India and at Dangerfield, and she had discovered no +trace of any tender memory of the past, no hint of a cherished dream of +the future. His heart had been empty: a boyish, unawakened heart: a +temple in which the niches were untenanted, the shrine unhallowed by +the presence of a goddess. + +Olivia Marchmont thought of these things. For a few moments, if only +for a few moments, she abandoned herself to such thoughts as these. She +let herself go. She released the stern hold which it was her habit to +keep upon her own mind; and in those bright moments of delicious +abandonment the glorious sunshine streamed in upon her narrow life, and +visions of a possible future expanded before her like a fairy panorama, +stretching away into realms of vague light and splendour. It was +_possible_; it was at least possible. + +But, again, in the next moment the magical panorama collapsed and +shrivelled away, like a burning scroll; the fairy picture, whose +gorgeous colouring she had looked upon with dazzled eyes, almost +blinded by its overpowering glory, shrank into a handful of black +ashes, and was gone. The woman's strong nature reasserted itself; the +iron will rose up, ready to do battle with the foolish heart. + +"I _will_ not be fooled a second time," she cried. "Did I suffer so +little when I blotted that image out of my heart? Did the destruction +of my cruel Juggernaut cost me so small an agony that I must needs be +ready to elevate the false god again, and crush out my heart once more +under the brazen wheels of his chariot? _He will never love me!_" + +She writhed; this self-sustained and resolute woman writhed in her +anguish as she uttered those five words, "He will never love me!" She +knew that they were true; that of all the changes that Time could bring +to pass, it would never bring such a change as that. There was not one +element of sympathy between herself and the young soldier; they had not +one thought in common. Nay, more; there was an absolute antagonism +between them, which, in spite of her love, Olivia fully recognised. +Over the gulf that separated them no coincidence of thought or fancy, +no sympathetic emotion, ever stretched its electric chain to draw them +together in mysterious union. They stood aloof, divided by the width of +an intellectual universe. The woman knew this, and hated herself for +her folly, scorning alike her love and its object; but her love was not +the less because of her scorn. It was a madness, an isolated madness, +which stood alone in her soul, and fought for mastery over her better +aspirations, her wiser thoughts. We are all familiar with strange +stories of wise and great minds which have been ridden by some +hobgoblin fancy, some one horrible monomania; a bleeding head upon a +dish, a grinning skeleton playing hide-and-seek in the folds of the +bed-curtains; some devilry or other before which the master-spirit +shrank and dwindled until the body withered and the victim died. + +Had Olivia Marchmont lived a couple of centuries before, she would have +gone straight to the nearest old crone, and would have boldly accused +the wretched woman of being the author of her misery. + +"You harbour a black cat and other noisome vermin, and you prowl about +muttering to yourself o' nights" she might have said. "You have been +seen to gather herbs, and you make strange and uncanny signs with your +palsied old fingers. The black cat is the devil, your colleague; and +the rats under your tumble-down roof are his imps, your associates. It +is _you_ who have instilled this horrible madness into my soul; for it +_could_ not come of itself." + +And Olivia Marchmont, being resolute and strong-minded, would not have +rested until her tormentor had paid the penalty of her foul work at a +stake in the nearest market-place. + +And indeed some of our madnesses are so mad, some of our follies are so +foolish, that we might almost be forgiven if we believed that there was +a company of horrible crones meeting somewhere on an invisible Brocken, +and making incantations for our destruction. Take up a newspaper and +read its hideous revelations of crime and folly; and it will be +scarcely strange if you involuntarily wonder whether witchcraft is a +dark fable of the middle ages, or a dreadful truth of the nineteenth +century. Must not some of these miserable creatures whose stories we +read be _possessed_; possessed by eager, relentless demons, who lash +and goad them onward, until no black abyss of vice, no hideous gulf of +crime, is black or hideous enough to content them? + +Olivia Marchmont might have been a good and great woman. She had all +the elements of greatness. She had genius, resolution, an indomitable +courage, an iron will, perseverance, self-denial, temperance, chastity. +But against all these qualities was set a fatal and foolish love for a +boy's handsome face and frank and genial manner. If Edward Arundel had +never crossed her path, her unfettered soul might have taken the +highest and grandest flight; but, chained down, bound, trammelled by +her love for him, she grovelled on the earth like some maimed and +wounded eagle, who sees his fellows afar off, high in the purple +empyrean, and loathes himself for his impotence. + +"What do I love him for?" she thought. "Is it because he has blue eyes +and chestnut hair, with wandering gleams of golden light in it? Is it +because he has gentlemanly manners, and is easy and pleasant, genial +and light-hearted? Is it because he has a dashing walk, and the air of +a man of fashion? It must be for some of these attributes, surely; for +I know nothing more in him. Of all the things he has ever said, I can +remember nothing--and I remember his smallest words, Heaven help +me!--that any sensible person could think worth repeating. He is brave, +I dare say, and generous; but what of that? He is neither braver nor +more generous than other men of his rank and position." + +She sat lost in such a reverie as this while her dead husband was being +carried to the roomy vault set apart for the owners of Marchmont Towers +and their kindred; she was absorbed in some such thoughts as these, +when one of the grave, grey-headed old servants brought her a card upon +a heavy salver emblazoned with the Marchmont arms. + +Olivia took the card almost mechanically. There are some thoughts which +carry us a long way from the ordinary occupations of every-day life, +and it is not always easy to return to the dull jog-trot routine. The +widow passed her left hand across her brow before she looked at the +name inscribed upon the card in her right. + +"Mr. Paul Marchmont." + +She started as she read the name. Paul Marchmont! She remembered what +her husband had told her of this man. It was not much; for John's +feelings on the subject of his cousin had been of so vague a nature +that he had shrunk from expounding them to his stern, practical wife. +He had told her, therefore, that he did not very much care for Paul, +and that he wished no intimacy ever to arise between the artist and +Mary; but he had said nothing more than this. + +"The gentleman is waiting to see me, I suppose?" Mrs. Marchmont said. + +"Yes, ma'am. The gentleman came to Kemberling by the 11.5 train from +London, and has driven over here in one of Harris's flys." + +"Tell him I will come to him immediately. Is he in the drawing-room?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +The man bowed and left the room. Olivia rose from her chair and +lingered by the fireplace with her foot on the fender, her elbow +resting on the carved oak chimneypiece. + +"Paul Marchmont! He has come to the funeral, I suppose. And he expects +to find himself mentioned in the will, I dare say. I think, from what +my husband told me, he will be disappointed in that. Paul Marchmont! If +Mary were to die unmarried, this man or his sisters would inherit +Marchmont Towers." + +There was a looking-glass over the mantelpiece; a narrow, oblong glass, +in an old-fashioned carved ebony frame, which was inclined forward. +Olivia looked musingly in this glass, and smoothed the heavy bands of +dead-black hair under her cap. + +"There are people who would call me handsome," she thought, as she +looked with a moody frown at her image in the glass; "and yet I have +seen Edward Arundel's eyes wander away from my face, even while I have +been talking to him, to watch the swallows skimming by in the sun, or +the ivy-leaves flapping against the wall." + +She turned from the glass with a sigh, and went out into a dusky +corridor. The shutters of all the principal rooms and the windows upon +the grand staircase were still closed; the wide hall was dark and +gloomy, and drops of rain spattered every now and then upon the logs +that smouldered on the wide old-fashioned hearth. The misty October +morning had heralded a wet day. + +Paul Marchmont was sitting in a low easy-chair before a blazing fire in +the western drawing-room, the red light full upon his face. It was a +handsome face, or perhaps, to speak more exactly, it was one of those +faces that are generally called "interesting." The features were very +delicate and refined, the pale greyish-blue eyes were shaded by long +brown lashes, and the small and rather feminine mouth was overshadowed +by a slender auburn moustache, under which the rosy tint of the lips +was very visible. But it was Paul Marchmont's hair which gave a +peculiarity to a personal appearance that might otherwise have been in +no way out of the common. This hair, fine, silky, and luxuriant, was +_white_, although its owner could not have been more than thirty-seven +years of age. + +The uninvited guest rose as Olivia Marchmont entered the room. + +"I have the honour of speaking to my cousin's widow?" he said, with a +courteous smile. + +"Yes, I am Mrs. Marchmont." + +Olivia seated herself near the fire. The wet day was cold and +cheerless. Mrs. Marchmont shivered as she extended her long thin hand +to the blaze. + +"And you are doubtless surprised to see me here, Mrs. Marchmont?" the +artist said, leaning upon the back of his chair in the easy attitude of +a man who means to make himself at home. "But believe me, that although +I never took advantage of a very friendly letter written to me by poor +John----" + +Paul Marchmont paused for a moment, keeping sharp watch upon the +widow's face; but no sorrowful expression, no evidence of emotion, was +visible in that inflexible countenance. + +"Although, I repeat, I never availed myself of a sort of general +invitation to come and shoot his partridges, or borrow money of him, or +take advantage of any of those other little privileges generally +claimed by a man's poor relations, it is not to be supposed, my dear +Mrs. Marchmont, that I was altogether forgetful of either Marchmont +Towers or its owner, my cousin. I did not come here, because I am a +hard-working man, and the idleness of a country house would have been +ruin to me. But I heard sometimes of my cousin from neighbours of his." + +"Neighbours!" repeated Olivia, in a tone of surprise. + +"Yes; people near enough to be called neighbours in the country. My +sister lives at Stanfield. She is married to a surgeon who practises in +that delightful town. You know Stanfield, of course?" + +"No, I have never been there. It is five-and-twenty miles from here." + +"Indeed! too far for a drive, then. Yes, my sister lives at Stanfield. +John never knew much of her in his adversity; and therefore may be +forgiven if he forgot her in his prosperity. But she did not forget +him. We poor relations have excellent memories. The Stanfield people +have so little to talk about, that it is scarcely any wonder if they +are inquisitive about the affairs of the grand country gentry round +about them. I heard of John through my sister; I heard of his marriage +through her,"--he bowed to Olivia as he said this,--"and I wrote +immediately to congratulate him upon that happy event,"--he bowed again +here;--"and it was through Lavinia Weston, my sister, that I heard of +poor John's death; one day before the announcement appeared in the +columns of the 'Times.' I am sorry to find that I am too late for the +funeral. I could have wished to have paid my cousin the last tribute of +esteem that one man can pay another." + +"You would wish to hear the reading of the will?" Olivia said, +interrogatively. + +Paul Marchmont shrugged his shoulders, with a low, careless laugh; not +an indecorous laugh,--nothing that this man did or said ever appeared +ill-advised or out of place. The people who disliked him were compelled +to acknowledge that they disliked him unreasonably, and very much on +the Doctor-Fell principle; for it was impossible to take objection to +either his manners or his actions. + +"That important legal document can have very little interest for me, my +dear Mrs. Marchmont," he said gaily. "John can have had nothing to +leave me. I am too well acquainted with the terms of my grandfather's +will to have any mercenary hopes in coming to Marchmont Towers." + +He stopped, and looked at Olivia's impassible face. + +"What on earth could have induced this woman to marry my cousin?" he +thought. "John could have had very little to leave his widow." + +He played with the ornaments at his watch-chain, looking reflectively +at the fire for some moments. + +"Miss Marchmont,--my cousin, Mary Marchmont, I should say,--bears her +loss pretty well, I hope?" + +Olivia shrugged her shoulders. + +"I am sorry to say that my stepdaughter displays very little Christian +resignation," she said. + +And then a spirit within her arose and whispered, with a mocking voice, +"What resignation do _you_ show beneath _your_ affliction,--you, who +should be so good a Christian? How have _you_ learned to school your +rebellious heart?" + +"My cousin is very young," Paul Marchmont said, presently. + +"She was fifteen last July." + +"Fifteen! Very young to be the owner of Marchmont Towers and an income +of eleven thousand a year," returned the artist. He walked to one of +the long windows, and drawing aside the edge of the blind, looked out +upon the terrace and the wide flats before the mansion. The rain +dripped and splashed upon the stone steps; the rain-drops hung upon the +grim adornments of the carved balustrade, soaking into moss-grown +escutcheons and half-obliterated coats-of-arms. The weird willows by +the pools far away, and a group of poplars near the house, looked gaunt +and black against the dismal grey sky. + +Paul Marchmont dropped the blind, and turned away from the gloomy +landscape with a half-contemptuous gesture. "I don't know that I envy +my cousin, after all," he said: "the place is as dreary as Tennyson's +Moated Grange." + +There was the sound of wheels on the carriage-drive before the terrace, +and presently a subdued murmur of hushed voices in the hall. Mr. +Richard Paulette, and the two medical men who had attended John +Marchmont, had returned to the Towers, for the reading of the will. +Hubert Arundel had returned with them; but the other followers in the +funeral train had departed to their several homes. The undertaker and +his men had come back to the house by the side-entrance, and were +making themselves very comfortable in the servants'-hall after the +fulfilment of their mournful duties. + +The will was to be read in the dining-room; and Mr. Paulette and the +clerk who had accompanied him to Marchmont Towers were already seated +at one end of the long carved-oak table, busy with their papers and +pens and ink, assuming an importance the occasion did not require. +Olivia went out into the hall to speak to her father. + +"You will find Mr. Marchmont's solicitor in the dining-room," she said +to Paul, who was looking at some of the old pictures on the +drawing-room walls. + +A large fire was blazing in the wide grate at the end of the +dining-room. The blinds had been drawn up. There was no longer need +that the house should be wrapped in darkness. The Awful Presence had +departed; and such light as there was in the gloomy October sky was +free to enter the rooms, which the death of one quiet, unobtrusive +creature had made for a time desolate. + +There was no sound in the room but the low voice of the two doctors +talking of their late patient in undertones near the fireplace, and the +occasional fluttering of the papers under the lawyer's hand. The clerk, +who sat respectfully a little way behind his master, and upon the very +edge of his ponderous morocco-covered chair, had been wont to give John +Marchmont his orders, and to lecture him for being tardy with his work +a few years before, in the Lincoln's Inn office. He was wondering now +whether he should find himself remembered in the dead man's will, to +the extent of a mourning ring or an old-fashioned silver snuff-box. + +Richard Paulette looked up as Olivia and her father entered the room, +followed at a little distance by Paul Marchmont, who walked at a +leisurely pace, looking at the carved doorways and the pictures against +the wainscot, and appearing, as he had declared himself, very little +concerned in the important business about to be transacted. + +"We shall want Miss Marchmont here, if you please," Mr. Paulette said, +as he looked up from his papers. + +"Is it necessary that she should be present?" Olivia asked. + +"Very necessary." + +"But she is ill; she is in bed." + +"It is most important that she should be here when the will is read. +Perhaps Mr. Bolton"--the lawyer looked towards one of the medical +men--"will see. He will be able to tell us whether Miss Marchmont can +safely come downstairs." + +Mr. Bolton, the Swampington surgeon who had attended Mary that morning, +left the room with Olivia. The lawyer rose and warmed his hands at the +blaze, talking to Hubert Arundel and the London physician as he did so. +Paul Marchmont, who had not been introduced to any one, occupied +himself entirely with the pictures for a little time; and then, +strolling over to the fireplace, fell into conversation with the three +gentlemen, contriving, adroitly enough, to let them know who he was. +The lawyer looked at him with some interest,--a professional interest, +no doubt; for Mr. Paulette had a copy of old Philip Marchmont's will in +one of the japanned deed-boxes inscribed with poor John's name. He knew +that this easy-going, pleasant-mannered, white-haired gentleman was the +Paul Marchmont named in that document, and stood next in succession to +Mary. Mary might die unmarried, and it was as well to be friendly and +civil to a man who was at least a possible client. + +The four gentlemen stood upon the broad Turkey hearth-rug for some +time, talking of the dead man, the wet weather, the cold autumn, the +dearth of partridges, and other very safe topics of conversation. +Olivia and the Swampington doctor were a long time absent; and Richard +Paulette, who stood with his back to the fire, glanced every now and +then towards the door. + +It opened at last, and Mary Marchmont came into the room, followed by +her stepmother. + +Paul Marchmont turned at the sound of the opening of that ponderous +oaken door, and for the first time saw his second cousin, the young +mistress of Marchmont Towers. He started as he looked at her, though +with a scarcely perceptible movement, and a change came over his face. +The feminine pinky hue in his cheeks faded suddenly, and left them +white. It had been a peculiarity of Paul Marchmont's, from his boyhood, +always to turn pale with every acute emotion. + +What was the emotion which had now blanched his cheeks? Was he +thinking, "Is _this_ fragile creature the mistress of Marchmont Towers? +Is _this_ frail life all that stands between me and eleven thousand a +year?" + +The light which shone out of that feeble earthly tabernacle did indeed +seem a frail and fitful flame, likely to be extinguished by any rude +breath from the coarse outer world. Mary Marchmont was deadly pale; +black shadows encircled her wistful hazel eyes. Her new mourning-dress, +with its heavy trimmings of lustreless crape, seemed to hang loose upon +her slender figure; her soft brown hair, damp with the water with which +her burning forehead had been bathed, fell in straight lank tresses +about her shoulders. Her eyes were tearless, her mouth terribly +compressed. The rigidity of her face betokened the struggle by which +her sorrow was repressed. She sat in an easy-chair which Olivia +indicated to her, and with her hands lying on the white handkerchief in +her lap, and her swollen eyelids drooping over her eyes, waited for the +reading of her father's will. It would be the last, the very last, she +would ever hear of that dear father's words. She remembered this, and +was ready to listen attentively; but she remembered nothing else. What +was it to her that she was sole heiress of that great mansion, and of +eleven thousand a year? She had never in her life thought of the +Lincolnshire fortune with any reference to herself or her own +pleasures; and she thought of it less than ever now. + +The will was dated February 4th, 1844, exactly two months after John's +marriage. It had been made by the master of Marchmont Towers without +the aid of a lawyer, and was only witnessed by John's housekeeper, and +by Corson the old valet, a confidential servant who had attended upon +Mr. Marchmont's predecessor. + +Richard Paulette began to read; and Mary, for the first time since she +had taken her seat near the fire, lifted her eyes, and listened +breathlessly, with faintly tremulous lips. Olivia sat near her +stepdaughter; and Paul Marchmont stood in a careless attitude at one +corner of the fireplace, with his shoulders resting against the massive +oaken chimneypiece. The dead man's will ran thus: + +"I John Marchmont of Marchmont Towers declare this to be my last will +and testament Being persuaded that my end is approaching I feel my dear +little daughter Mary will be left unprotected by any natural guardian +My young friend Edward Arundel I had hoped when in my poverty would +have been a friend and adviser to her if not a protector but her tender +years and his position in life must place this now out of the question +and I may die before a fond hope which I have long cherished can be +realised and which may now never be realised I now desire to make my +will more particularly to provide as well as I am permitted for the +guardianship and care of my dear little Mary during her minority Now I +will and desire that my wife Olivia shall act as guardian adviser and +mother to my dear little Mary and that she place herself under the +charge and guardianship of my wife And as she will be an heiress of +very considerable property I would wish her to be guided by the advice +of my said wife in the management of her property and particularly in +the choice of a husband As my dear little Mary will be amply provided +for on my death I make no provision for her by this my will but I +direct my executrix to present to her a diamond-ring which I wish her +to wear in memory of her loving father so that she may always have me +in her thoughts and particularly of these my wishes as to her future +life until she shall be of age and capable of acting on her own +judgment. I also request my executrix to present my young friend Edward +Arundel also with a diamond-ring of the value of at least one hundred +guineas as a slight tribute of the regard and esteem which I have ever +entertained for him. . . . As to all the property as well real as +personal over which I may at the time of my death have any control and +capable of claiming or bequeathing I give devise and bequeath to my +wife Olivia absolutely And I appoint my said wife sole executrix of +this my will and guardian of my dear little Mary." + +There were a few very small legacies, including a mourning-ring to the +expectant clerk; and this was all. Paul Marchmont had been quite right; +nobody could be less interested than himself in this will. + +But he was apparently very much interested in John's widow and +daughter. He tried to enter into conversation with Mary, but the girl's +piteous manner seemed to implore him to leave her unmolested; and Mr. +Bolton approached his patient almost immediately after the reading of +the will, and in a manner took possession of her. Mary was very glad to +leave the room once more, and to return to the dim chamber where Hester +Pollard sat at needlework. Olivia left her stepdaughter to the care of +this humble companion, and went back to the long dining-room, where the +gentlemen still hung listlessly over the fire, not knowing very well +what to do with themselves. + +Mrs. Marchmont could not do less than invite Paul to stay a few days at +the Towers. She was virtually mistress of the house during Mary's +minority, and on her devolved all the troubles, duties, and +responsibilities attendant on such a position. Her father was going to +stay with her till the end of the week; and he therefore would be able +to entertain Mr. Marchmont. Paul unhesitatingly accepted the widow's +hospitality. The old place was picturesque and interesting, he said; +there were some genuine Holbeins in the hall and dining-room, and one +good Lely in the drawing-room. He would give himself a couple of days' +holiday, and go to Stanfield by an early train on Saturday. + +"I have not seen my sister for a long time," he said; "her life is dull +enough and hard enough, Heaven knows, and she will be glad to see me +upon my way back to London." + +Olivia bowed. She did not persuade Mr. Marchmont to extend his visit. +The common courtesy she offered him was kept within the narrowest +limits. She spent the best part of the time in the dead man's study +during Paul's two-days' stay, and left the artist almost entirely to +her father's companionship. + +But she was compelled to appear at dinner, and she took her accustomed +place at the head of the table. Paul therefore had some opportunity of +sounding the depths of the strangest nature he had ever tried to +fathom. He talked to her very much, listening with unvarying attention +to every word she uttered. He watched her--but with no obtrusive +gaze--almost incessantly; and when he went away from Marchmont Towers, +without having seen Mary since the reading of the will, it was of +Olivia he thought; it was the recollection of Olivia which interested +as much as it perplexed him. + +The few people waiting for the London train looked at the artist as he +strolled up and down the quiet platform at Kemberling Station, with his +head bent and his eyebrows slightly contracted. He had a certain easy, +careless grace of dress and carriage, which harmonised well with his +delicate face, his silken silvery hair, his carefully-trained auburn +moustache, and rosy, womanish mouth. He was a romantic-looking man. He +was the beau-ideal of the hero in a young lady's novel. He was a man +whom schoolgirls would have called "a dear." But it had been better, I +think, for any helpless wretch to be in the bull-dog hold of the +sturdiest Bill Sykes ever loosed upon society by right of his +ticket-of-leave, than in the power of Paul Marchmont, artist and +teacher of drawing, of Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square. + +He was thinking of Olivia as he walked slowly up and down the bare +platform, only separated by a rough wooden paling from the flat open +fields on the outskirts of Kemberling. + +"The little girl is as feeble as a pale February butterfly." he +thought; "a puff of frosty wind might wither her away. But that woman, +that woman--how handsome she is, with her accurate profile and iron +mouth; but what a raging fire there is hidden somewhere in her breast, +and devouring her beauty by day and night! If I wanted to paint the +sleeping scene in _Macbeth_, I'd ask her to sit for the Thane's wicked +wife. Perhaps she has some bloody secret as deadly as the murder of a +grey-headed Duncan upon her conscience, and leaves her bedchamber in +the stillness of the night to walk up and down those long oaken +corridors at the Towers, and wring her hands and wail aloud in her +sleep. Why did she marry John Marchmont? His life gave her little more +than a fine house to live in; his death leaves her with nothing but ten +or twelve thousand pounds in the Three per Cents. What is her +mystery--what is her secret, I wonder? for she must surely have one." + +Such thoughts as these filled his mind as the train carried him away +from the lonely little station, and away from the neighbourhood of +Marchmont Towers, within whose stony walls Mary lay in her quiet +chamber, weeping for her dead father, and wishing--God knows in what +utter singleness of heart!--that she had been buried in the vault by +his side. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +OLIVIA'S DESPAIR. + + +The life which Mary and her stepmother led at Marchmont Towers after +poor John's death was one of those tranquil and monotonous existences +that leave very little to be recorded, except the slow progress of the +weeks and months, the gradual changes of the seasons. Mary bore her +sorrows quietly, as it was her nature to bear all things. The doctor's +advice was taken, and Olivia removed her stepdaughter to Scarborough +soon after the funeral. But the change of scene was slow to effect any +change in the state of dull despairing sorrow into which the girl had +fallen. The sea-breezes brought no colour into her pale cheeks. She +obeyed her stepmother's behests unmurmuringly, and wandered wearily by +the dreary seashore in the dismal November weather, in search of health +and strength. But wherever she went, she carried with her the awful +burden of her grief; and in every changing cadence of the low winter +winds, in every varying murmur of the moaning waves, she seemed to hear +her dead father's funeral dirge. + +I think that, young as Mary Marchmont was, this mournful period was the +grand crisis of her life. The past, with its one great affection, had +been swept away from her, and as yet there was no friendly figure to +fill the dismal blank of the future. Had any kindly matron, any gentle +Christian creature been ready to stretch out her arms to the desolate +orphan, Mary's heart would have melted, and she would have crept to the +shelter of that womanly embrace, to nestle there for ever. But there +was no one. Olivia Marchmont obeyed the letter of her husband's solemn +appeal, as she had obeyed the letter of those Gospel sentences that had +been familiar to her from her childhood, but was utterly unable to +comprehend its spirit. She accepted the charge intrusted to her. She +was unflinching in the performance of her duty; but no one glimmer of +the holy light of motherly love and tenderness, the semi-divine +compassion of womanhood, ever illumined the dark chambers of her heart. +Every night she questioned herself upon her knees as to her rigid +performance of the level round of duty she had allotted to herself; +every night--scrupulous and relentless as the hardest judge who ever +pronounced sentence upon a criminal--she took note of her own +shortcomings, and acknowledged her deficiencies. + +But, unhappily, this self-devotion of Olivia's pressed no less heavily +upon Mary than on the widow herself. The more rigidly Mrs. Marchmont +performed the duties which she understood to be laid upon her by her +dead husband's last will and testament, the harder became the orphan's +life. The weary treadmill of education worked on, when the young +student was well-nigh fainting upon every step in that hopeless +revolving ladder of knowledge. If Olivia, on communing with herself at +night, found that the day just done had been too easy for both mistress +and pupil, the morrow's allowance of Roman emperors and French grammar +was made to do penance for yesterday's shortcomings. + +"This girl has been intrusted to my care, and one of my first duties is +to give her a good education," Olivia Marchmont thought. "She is +inclined to be idle; but I must fight against her inclination, whatever +trouble the struggle entails upon myself. The harder the battle, the +better for me if I am conqueror." + +It was only thus that Olivia Marchmont could hope to be a good woman. +It was only by the rigid performance of hard duties, the patient +practice of tedious rites, that she could hope to attain that eternal +crown which simpler Christians seem to win so easily. + +Morning and night the widow and her stepdaughter read the Bible +together; morning and night they knelt side by side to join in the same +familiar prayers; yet all these readings and all these prayers failed +to bring them any nearer together. No tender sentence of inspiration, +not the words of Christ himself, ever struck the same chord in these +two women's hearts, bringing both into sudden unison. They went to +church three times upon every dreary Sunday,--dreary from the terrible +uniformity which made one day a mechanical repetition of another,--and +sat together in the same pew; and there were times when some solemn +word, some sublime injunction, seemed to fall with a new meaning upon +the orphan girl's heart; but if she looked at her stepmother's face, +thinking to see some ray of that sudden light which had newly shone +into her own mind reflected _there_, the blank gloom of Olivia's +countenance seemed like a dead wall, across which no glimmer of +radiance ever shone. + +They went back to Marchmont Towers in the early spring. People imagined +that the young widow would cultivate the society of her husband's old +friends, and that morning callers would be welcome at the Towers, and +the stately dinner-parties would begin again, when Mrs. Marchmont's +year of mourning was over. But it was not so; Olivia closed her doors +upon almost all society, and devoted herself entirely to the education +of her stepdaughter. The gossips of Swampington and Kemberling, the +county gentry who had talked of her piety and patience, her unflinching +devotion to the poor of her father's parish, talked now of her +self-abnegation, the sacrifices she made for her stepdaughter's sake, +the noble manner in which she justified John Marchmont's confidence in +her goodness. Other women would have intrusted the heiress's education +to some hired governess, people said; other women would have been upon +the look-out for a second husband; other women would have grown weary +of the dulness of that lonely Lincolnshire mansion, the monotonous +society of a girl of sixteen. They were never tired of lauding Mrs. +Marchmont as a model for all stepmothers in time to come. + +Did she sacrifice much, this woman, whose spirit was a raging fire, who +had the ambition of a Semiramis, the courage of a Boadicea, the +resolution of a Lady Macbeth? Did she sacrifice much in resigning such +provincial gaieties as might have adorned her life,--a few +dinner-parties, an occasional county ball, a flirtation with some +ponderous landed gentleman or hunting squire? + +No; these things would very soon have grown odious to her--more odious +than the monotony of her empty life, more wearisome even than the +perpetual weariness of her own spirit. I said, that when she accepted a +new life by becoming the wife of John Marchmont, she acted in the +spirit of a prisoner, who is glad to exchange his old dungeon for a new +one. But, alas! the novelty of the prison-house had very speedily worn +off, and that which Olivia Arundel had been at Swampington Rectory, +Olivia Marchmont was now in the gaunt country mansion,--a wretched +woman, weary of herself and all the world, devoured by a slow-consuming +and perpetual fire. + +This woman was, for two long melancholy years, Mary Marchmont's sole +companion and instructress. I say sole companion advisedly; for the +girl was not allowed to become intimate with the younger members of +such few county families as still called occasionally at the Towers, +lest she should become empty-headed and frivolous by their +companionship. Alas, there was little fear of Mary becoming +empty-headed! As she grew taller, and more slender, she seemed to get +weaker and paler; and her heavy head drooped wearily under the load of +knowledge which it had been made to carry, like some poor sickly flower +oppressed by the weight of the dew-drops, which would have revivified a +hardier blossom. + +Heaven knows to what end Mrs. Marchmont educated her stepdaughter! Poor +Mary could have told the precise date of any event in universal +history, ancient or modern; she could have named the exact latitude and +longitude of the remotest island in the least navigable ocean, and +might have given an accurate account of the manners and customs of its +inhabitants, had she been called upon to do so. She was alarmingly +learned upon the subject of tertiary and old red sandstone, and could +have told you almost as much as Mr. Charles Kingsley himself about the +history of a gravel-pit,--though I doubt if she could have conveyed her +information in quite such a pleasant manner; she could have pointed out +every star in the broad heavens above Lincolnshire, and could have told +the history of its discovery; she knew the hardest names that science +had given to the familiar field-flowers she met in her daily +walks;--yet I cannot say that her conversation was any the more +brilliant because of this, or that her spirits grew lighter under the +influence of this general mental illumination. + +But Mrs. Marchmont did most earnestly believe that this laborious +educationary process was one of the duties she owed her stepdaughter; +and when, at seventeen years of age, Mary emerged from the struggle, +laden with such intellectual spoils as I have described above, the +widow felt a quiet satisfaction as she contemplated her work, and said +to herself, "In this, at least, I have done my duty." + +Amongst all the dreary mass of instruction beneath which her health had +very nearly succumbed, the girl had learned one thing that was a source +of pleasure to herself; she had learned to become a very brilliant +musician. She was not a musical genius, remember; for no such vivid +flame as the fire of genius had ever burned in her gentle breast; but +all the tenderness of her nature, all the poetry of a hyper-poetical +mind, centred in this one accomplishment, and, condemned to perpetual +silence in every other tongue, found a new and glorious language here. +The girl had been forbidden to read Byron and Scott; but she was not +forbidden to sit at her piano, when the day's toils were over, and the +twilight was dusky in her quiet room, playing dreamy melodies by +Beethoven and Mozart, and making her own poetry to Mendelssohn's +wordless songs. I think her soul must have shrunk and withered away +altogether had it not been for this one resource, this one refuge, in +which her mind regained its elasticity, springing up, like a trampled +flower, into new life and beauty. + +Olivia was well pleased to see the girl sit hour after hour at her +piano. She had learned to play well and brilliantly herself, mastering +all difficulties with the proud determination which was a part of her +strong nature; but she had no special love for music. All things that +compose the poetry and beauty of life had been denied to this woman, in +common with the tenderness which makes the chief loveliness of +womankind. She sat by the piano and listened while Mary's slight hands +wandered over the keys, carrying the player's soul away into trackless +regions of dream-land and beauty; but she heard nothing in the music +except so many chords, so many tones and semitones, played in such or +such a time. + +It would have been scarcely natural for Mary Marchmont, reserved and +self-contained though she had been ever since her father's death, to +have had no yearning for more genial companionship than that of her +stepmother. The girl who had kept watch in her room, by the doctor's +suggestion, was the one friend and confidante whom the young mistress +of Marchmont Towers fain would have chosen. But here Olivia interposed, +sternly forbidding any intimacy between the two girls. Hester Pollard +was the daughter of a small tenant-farmer, and no fit associate for +Mrs. Marchmont's stepdaughter. Olivia thought that this taste for +obscure company was the fruit of Mary's early training--the taint left +by those bitter, debasing days of poverty, in which John Marchmont and +his daughter had lived in some wretched Lambeth lodging. + +"But Hester Pollard is fond of me, mamma," the girl pleaded; "and I +feel so happy at the old farm house! They are all so kind to me when I +go there,--Hester's father and mother, and little brothers and sisters, +you know; and the poultry-yard, and the pigs and horses, and the green +pond, with the geese cackling round it, remind me of my aunt's, in +Berkshire. I went there once with poor papa for a day or two; it was +_such_ a change after Oakley Street." + +But Mrs. Marchmont was inflexible upon this point. She would allow her +stepdaughter to pay a ceremonial visit now and then to Farmer +Pollard's, and to be entertained with cowslip-wine and pound-cake in +the low, old-fashioned parlour, where all the polished mahogany chairs +were so shining and slippery that it was a marvel how anybody ever +contrived to sit down upon them. Olivia allowed such solemn visits as +these now and then, and she permitted Mary to renew the farmer's lease +upon sufficiently advantageous terms, and to make occasional presents +to her favourite, Hester. But all stolen visits to the farmyard, all +evening rambles with the farmer's daughter in the apple orchard at the +back of the low white farmhouse, were sternly interdicted; and though +Mary and Hester were friends still, they were fain to be content with a +chance meeting once in the course of a dreary interval of months, and a +silent pressure of the hand. + +"You mustn't think that I am proud of my money, Hester," Mary said to +her friend, "or that I forget you now that we see each other so seldom. +Papa used to let me come to the farm whenever I liked; but papa had +seen a great deal of poverty. Mamma keeps me almost always at home at +my studies; but she is very good to me, and of course I am bound to +obey her; papa wished me to obey her." + +The orphan girl never for a moment forgot the terms of her father's +will. _He_ had wished her to obey; what should she do, then, but be +obedient? Her submission to Olivia's lightest wish was only a part of +the homage which she paid to that beloved father's memory. + +It was thus she grew to early womanhood; a child in gentle obedience +and docility; a woman by reason of that grave and thoughtful character +which had been peculiar to her from her very infancy. It was in a life +such as this, narrow, monotonous, joyless, that her seventeenth +birthday came and went, scarcely noticed, scarcely remembered, in the +dull uniformity of the days which left no track behind them; and Mary +Marchmont was a woman,--a woman with all the tragedy of life before +her; infantine in her innocence and inexperience of the world outside +Marchmont Towers. + +The passage of time had been so long unmarked by any break in its +tranquil course, the dull routine of life had been so long undisturbed +by change, that I believe the two women thought their lives would go on +for ever and ever. Mary, at least, had never looked beyond the dull +horizon of the present. Her habit of castle-building had died out with +her father's death. What need had she to build castles, now that he +could no longer inhabit them? Edward Arundel, the bright boy she +remembered in Oakley Street, the dashing young officer who had come to +Marchmont Towers, had dropped back into the chaos of the past. Her +father had been the keystone in the arch of Mary's existence: he was +gone, and a mass of chaotic ruins alone remained of the familiar +visions which had once beguiled her. The world had ended with John +Marchmont's death, and his daughter's life since that great sorrow had +been at best only a passive endurance of existence. They had heard very +little of the young soldier at Marchmont Towers. Now and then a letter +from some member of the family at Dangerfield had come to the Rector of +Swampington. The warfare was still raging far away in the East, cruel +and desperate battles were being fought, and brave Englishmen were +winning loot and laurels, or perishing under the scimitars of Sikhs and +Affghans, as the case might be. Squire Arundel's youngest son was not +doing less than his duty, the letters said. He had gained his +captaincy, and was well spoken of by great soldiers, whose very names +were like the sound of the war-trumpet to English ears. + +Olivia heard all this. She sat by her father, sometimes looking over +his shoulder at the crumpled letter, as he read aloud to her of her +cousin's exploits. The familiar name seemed to be all ablaze with lurid +light as the widow's greedy eyes devoured it. How commonplace the +letters were! What frivolous nonsense Letitia Arundel intermingled with +the news of her brother!--"You'll be glad to hear that my grey pony has +got the better of his lameness. Papa gave a hunting-breakfast on +Tuesday week. Lord Mountlitchcombe was present; but the hunting-men are +very much aggravated about the frost, and I fear we shall have no +crocuses. Edward has got his captaincy, papa told me to tell you. Sir +Charles Napier and Major Outram have spoken very highly of him; but +he--Edward, I mean--got a sabre-cut on his left arm, besides a wound on +his forehead, and was laid up for nearly a month. I daresay you +remember old Colonel Tollesly, at Halburton Lodge? He died last +November; and has left all his money to----" and the young lady ran on +thus, with such gossip as she thought might be pleasing to her uncle; +and there were no more tidings of the young soldier, whose life-blood +had so nearly been spilt for his country's glory. + +Olivia thought of him as she rode back to Marchmont Towers. She thought +of the sabre-cut upon his arm, and pictured him wounded and bleeding, +lying beneath the canvass-shelter of a tent, comfortless, lonely, +forsaken. + +"Better for me if he had died," she thought; "better for me if I were +to hear of his death to-morrow!" + +And with the idea the picture of such a calamity arose before her so +vividly and hideously distinct, that she thought for one brief moment +of agony, "This is not a fancy, it is a presentiment; it is second +sight; the thing will occur." + +She imagined herself going to see her father as she had gone that +morning. All would be the same: the low grey garden-wall of the +Rectory; the ceaseless surging of the sea; the prim servant-maid; the +familiar study, with its litter of books and papers; the smell of stale +cigar-smoke; the chintz curtains flapping in the open window; the dry +leaves fluttering in the garden without. There would be nothing changed +except her father's face, which would be a little graver than usual. +And then, after a little hesitation--after a brief preamble about the +uncertainty of life, the necessity for looking always beyond this +world, the horrors of war,--the dreadful words would be upon his lips, +when she would read all the hideous truth in his face, and fall prone +to the ground, before he could say, "Edward Arundel is dead!" + +Yes; she felt all the anguish. It would be this--this sudden paralysis +of black despair. She tested the strength of her endurance by this +imaginary torture,--scarcely imaginary, surely, when it seemed so +real,--and asked herself a strange question: "Am I strong enough to +bear this, or would it be less terrible to go on, suffering for +ever--for ever abased and humiliated by the degradation of my love for +a man who does not care for me?" + +So long as John Marchmont had lived, this woman would have been true to +the terrible victory she had won upon the eve of her bridal. She would +have been true to herself and to her marriage-vow; but her husband's +death, in setting her free, had cast her back upon the madness of her +youth. It was no longer a sin to think of Edward Arundel. Having once +suffered this idea to arise in her mind, her idol grew too strong for +her, and she thought of him by night and day. + +Yes; she thought of him for ever and ever. The narrow life to which she +doomed herself, the self-immolation which she called duty, left her a +prey to this one thought. Her work was not enough for her. Her powerful +mind wasted and shrivelled for want of worthy employment. It was like +one vast roll of parchment whereon half the wisdom of the world might +have been inscribed, but on which was only written over and over again, +in maddening repetition, the name of Edward Arundel. If Olivia +Marchmont could have gone to America, and entered herself amongst the +feminine professors of law or medicine,--if she could have turned +field-preacher, like simple Dinah Morris, or set up a printing-press in +Bloomsbury, or even written a novel,--I think she might have been +saved. The superabundant energy of her mind would have found a new +object. As it was, she did none of these things. She had only dreamt +one dream, and by force of perpetual repetition the dream had become a +madness. + +But the monotonous life was not to go on for ever. The dull, grey, +leaden sky was to be illumined by sudden bursts of sunshine, and swept +by black thunder-clouds, whose stormy violence was to shake the very +universe for these two solitary women. + +John Marchmont had been dead nearly three years. Mary's humble friend, +the farmer's daughter, had married a young tradesman in the village of +Kemberling, a mile and a half from the Towers. Mary was a woman now, +and had seen the last of the Roman emperors and all the dry-as-dust +studies of her early girlhood. She had nothing to do but accompany her +stepmother hither and thither amongst the poor cottagers about +Kemberling and two or three other small parishes within a drive of the +Towers, "doing good," after Olivia's fashion, by line and rule. At home +the young lady did what she pleased, sitting for hours together at her +piano, or wading through gigantic achievements in the way of +embroidery-work. She was even allowed to read novels now, but only such +novels as were especially recommended to Olivia, who was one of the +patronesses of a book-club at Swampington: novels in which young ladies +fell in love with curates, and didn't marry them: novels in which +everybody suffered all manner of misery, and rather liked it: novels in +which, if the heroine did marry the man she loved--and this happy +conclusion was the exception, and not the rule--the smallpox swept away +her beauty, or a fatal accident deprived him of his legs, or eyes, or +arms before the wedding-day. + +The two women went to Kemberling Church together three times every +Sunday. It was rather monotonous--the same church, the same rector and +curate, the same clerk, the same congregation, the same old organ-tunes +and droning voices of Lincolnshire charity-children, the same sermons +very often. But Mary had grown accustomed to monotony. She had ceased +to hope or care for anything since her father's death, and was very +well contented to be let alone, and allowed to dawdle through a dreary +life which was utterly without aim or purpose. She sat opposite her +stepmother on one particular afternoon in the state-pew at Kemberling, +which was lined with faded red baize, and raised a little above the +pews of meaner worshippers; she was sitting with her listless hands +lying in her lap, looking thoughtfully at her stepmother's stony face, +and listening to the dull droning of the rector's voice above her head. +It was a sunny afternoon in early June, and the church was bright with +a warm yellow radiance; one of the old diamond-paned windows was open, +and the tinkling of a sheep-bell far away in the distance, and the hum +of bees in the churchyard, sounded pleasantly in the quiet of the hot +atmosphere. + +The young mistress of Marchmont Towers felt the drowsy influence of +that tranquil summer weather creeping stealthily upon her. The heavy +eyelids drooped over her soft brown eyes, those wistful eyes which had +so long looked wearily out upon a world in which there seemed so little +joy. The rector's sermon was a very long one this warm afternoon, and +there was a low sound of snoring somewhere in one of the shadowy and +sheltered pews beneath the galleries. Mary tried very hard to keep +herself awake. Mrs. Marchmont had frowned darkly at her once or twice +already, for to fall asleep in church was a dire iniquity in Olivia's +rigid creed; but the drowsiness was not easily to be conquered, and the +girl was sinking into a peaceful slumber in spite of her stepmother's +menacing frowns, when the sound of a sharp footfall on one of the +gravel pathways in the churchyard aroused her attention. + +Heaven knows why she should have been awoke out of her sleep by the +sound of that step. It was different, perhaps, to the footsteps of the +Kemberling congregation. The brisk, sharp sound of the tread striking +lightly but firmly on the gravel was not compatible with the shuffling +gait of the tradespeople and farmers' men who formed the greater part +of the worshippers at that quiet Lincolnshire church. Again, it would +have been a monstrous sin in that tranquil place for any one member of +the congregation to disturb the devotions of the rest by entering at +such a time as this. It was a stranger, then, evidently. What did it +matter? Miss Marchmont scarcely cared to lift her eyelids to see who or +what the stranger was; but the intruder let in such a flood of June +sunshine when he pushed open the ponderous oaken door under the +church-porch, that she was dazzled by that sudden burst of light, and +involuntarily opened her eyes. + +The stranger let the door swing softly to behind him, and stood beneath +the shadow of the porch, not caring to advance any further, or to +disturb the congregation by his presence. + +Mary could not see him very plainly at first. She could only dimly +define the outline of his tall figure, the waving masses of chestnut +hair tinged with gleams of gold; but little by little his face seemed +to grow out of the shadow, until she saw it all,--the handsome +patrician features, the luminous blue eyes, the amber moustache,--the +face which, in Oakley Street eight years ago, she had elected as her +type of all manly perfection, her ideal of heroic grace. + +Yes; it was Edward Arundel. Her eyes lighted up with an unwonted +rapture as she looked at him; her lips parted; and her breath came in +faint gasps. All the monotonous years, the terrible agonies of sorrow, +dropped away into the past; and Mary Marchmont was conscious of nothing +except the unutterable happiness of the present. + +The one friend of her childhood had come back. The one link, the almost +forgotten link, that bound her to every day-dream of those foolish +early days, was united once more by the presence of the young soldier. +All that happy time, nearly five years ago,--that happy time in which +the tennis-court had been built, and the boat-house by the river +restored,--those sunny autumn days before her father's second +marriage,--returned to her. There was pleasure and joy in the world, +after all; and then the memory of her father came back to her mind, and +her eyes filled with tears. How sorry Edward would be to see his old +friend's empty place in the western drawing-room; how sorry for her, +and for her loss! Olivia Marchmont saw the change in her stepdaughter's +face, and looked at her with stern amazement. But, after the first +shock of that delicious surprise, Mary's training asserted itself. She +folded her hands,--they trembled a little, but Olivia did not see +that,--and waited patiently, with her eyes cast down and a faint flush +lighting up her pale cheeks, until the sermon was finished, and the +congregation began to disperse. She was not impatient. She felt as if +she could have waited thus peacefully and contentedly for ever, knowing +that the only friend she had on earth was near her. + +Olivia was slow to leave her pew; but at last she opened the door and +went out into the quiet aisle, followed by Mary, out under the shadowy +porch and into the gravel-walk in the churchyard, where Edward Arundel +was waiting for the two ladies. + +John Marchmont's widow uttered no cry of surprise when she saw her +cousin standing a little way apart from the slowly-dispersing +Kemberling congregation. Her dark face faded a little, and her heart +seemed to stop its pulsation suddenly, as if she had been turned into +stone; but this was only for a moment. She held out her hand to Mr. +Arundel in the next instant, and bade him welcome to Lincolnshire. + +"I did not know you were in England," she said. + +"Scarcely any one knows it yet," the young man answered; "and I have +not even been home. I came to Marchmont Towers at once." + +He turned from his cousin to Mary, who was standing a little behind her +stepmother. + +"Dear Polly," he said, taking both her hands in his, "I was so sorry +for you, when I heard----" + +He stopped, for he saw the tears welling up to her eyes. It was not his +allusion to her father's death that had distressed her. He had called +her Polly, the old familiar name, which she had never heard since that +dead father's lips had last spoken it. + +The carriage was waiting at the gate of the churchyard, and Edward +Arundel went back to Marchmont Towers with the two ladies. He had +reached the house a quarter of an hour after they had left it for +afternoon church, and had walked over to Kemberling. + +"I was so anxious to see you, Polly," he said, "after all this long +time, that I had no patience to wait until you and Livy came back from +church." + +Olivia started as the young man said this. It was Mary Marchmont whom +he had come to see, then--not herself. Was _she_ never to be anything? +Was she to be for ever insulted by this humiliating indifference? A +dark flush came over her face, as she drew her head up with the air of +an offended empress, and looked angrily at her cousin. Alas! he did not +even see that indignant glance. He was bending over Mary, telling her, +in a low tender voice, of the grief he had felt at learning the news of +her father's death. + +Olivia Marchmont looked with an eager, scrutinising gaze at her +stepdaughter. Could it be possible that Edward Arundel might ever come +to love this girl? _Could_ such a thing be possible? A hideous depth of +horror and confusion seemed to open before her with the thought. In all +the past, amongst all things she had imagined, amongst all the +calamities she had pictured to herself, she had never thought of +anything like this. Would such a thing ever come to pass? Would she +ever grow to hate this girl--this girl, who had been intrusted to her +by her dead husband--with the most terrible hatred that one woman can +feel towards another? + +In the next moment she was angry with herself for the abject folly of +this new terror. She had never yet learned to think of Mary as a woman. +She had never thought of her otherwise than as the pale childlike girl +who had come to her meekly, day after day, to recite difficult lessons, +standing in a submissive attitude before her, and rendering obedience +to her in all things. Was it likely, was it possible, that this +pale-faced girl would enter into the lists against her in the great +battle of her life? Was it likely that she was to find her adversary +and her conqueror here, in the meek child who had been committed to her +charge? + +She watched her stepdaughter's face with a jealous, hungry gaze. Was it +beautiful? No! The features were delicate; the brown eyes soft and +dovelike, almost lovely, now that they were irradiated by a new light, +as they looked shyly up at Edward Arundel. But the girl's face was wan +and colourless. It lacked the splendour of beauty. It was only after +you had looked at Mary for a very long time that you began to think her +rather pretty. + +The five years during which Edward Arundel had been away had made +little alteration in him. He was rather taller, perhaps; his amber +moustache thicker; his manner more dashing than of old. The mark of a +sabre-cut under the clustering chestnut curls upon the temple gave him +a certain soldierly dignity. He seemed a man of the world now, and Mary +Marchmont was rather afraid of him. He was so different to the +Lincolnshire squires, the bashful younger sons who were to be educated +for the Church: he was so dashing, so elegant, so splendid! From the +waving grace of his hair to the tip of the polished boot peeping out of +his well-cut trouser (there were no pegtops in 1847, and it was _le +genre_ to show very little of the boot), he was a creature to be +wondered at, to be almost reverenced, Mary thought. She could not help +admiring the cut of his coat, the easy _nonchalance_ of his manner, the +waxed ends of his curved moustache, the dangling toys of gold and +enamel that jingled at his watch-chain, the waves of perfume that +floated away from his cambric handkerchief. She was childish enough to +worship all these external attributes in her hero. + +"Shall I invite him to Marchmont Towers?" Olivia thought; and while she +was deliberating upon this question, Mary Marchmont cried out, "You +will stop at the Towers, won't you, Mr. Arundel, as you did when poor +papa was alive?" + +"Most decidedly, Miss Marchmont," the young man answered. "I mean to +throw myself upon your hospitality as confidingly as I did a long time +ago in Oakley Street, when you gave me hot rolls for my breakfast." + +Mary laughed aloud--perhaps for the first time since her father's +death. Olivia bit her lip. She was of so little account, then, she +thought, that they did not care to consult her. A gloomy shadow spread +itself over her face. Already, already she began to hate this +pale-faced, childish orphan girl, who seemed to be transformed into a +new being under the spell of Edward Arundel's presence. + +But she made no attempt to prevent his stopping at the Towers, though a +word from her would have effectually hindered his coming. A dull torpor +of despair took possession of her; a black apprehension paralysed her +mind. She felt that a pit of horror was opening before her ignorant +feet. All that she had suffered was as nothing to what she was about to +suffer. Let it be, then! What could she do to keep this torture away +from her? Let it come, since it seemed that it must come in some shape +or other. + +She thought all this, while she sat back in a corner of the carriage +watching the two faces opposite to her, as Edward and Mary, seated with +their backs to the horses, talked together in low confidential tones, +which scarcely reached her ear. She thought all this during the short +drive between Kemberling and Marchmont Towers; and when the carriage +drew up before the low Tudor portico, the dark shadow had settled on +her face. Her mind was made up. Let Edward Arundel come; let the worst +come. She had struggled; she had tried to do her duty; she had striven +to be good. But her destiny was stronger than herself, and had brought +this young soldier over land and sea, safe out of every danger, rescued +from every peril, to be her destruction. I think that in this crisis of +her life the last faint ray of Christian light faded out of this lost +woman's soul, leaving utter darkness and desolation. The old landmarks, +dimly descried in the weary desert, sank for ever down into the +quicksands, and she was left alone,--alone with her despair. Her +jealous soul prophesied the evil which she dreaded. This man, whose +indifference to her was almost an insult, would fall in love with Mary +Marchmont,--with Mary Marchmont, whose eyes lit up into new beauty +under the glances of his, whose pale face blushed into faint bloom as +he talked to her. The girl's undisguised admiration would flatter the +young man's vanity, and he would fall in love with her out of very +frivolity and weakness of purpose. + +"He is weak and vain, and foolish and frivolous, I daresay," Olivia +thought; "and if I were to fling myself upon my knees at his feet, and +tell him that I loved him, he would be flattered and grateful, and +would be ready to return my affection. If I could tell him what this +girl tells him in every look and word, he would be as pleased with me +as he is with her." + +Her lip curled with unutterable scorn as she thought this. She was so +despicable to herself by the deep humiliation of her wasted love, that +the object of that foolish passion seemed despicable also. She was for +ever weighing Edward Arundel against all the tortures she had endured +for his sake, and for ever finding him wanting. He must have been a +demigod if his perfections could have outweighed so much misery; and +for this reason she was unjust to her cousin, and could not accept him +for that which he really was,--a generous-hearted, candid, honourable +young man (not a great man or a wonderful man),--a brave and +honest-minded soldier, very well worthy of a good woman's love. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Arundel stayed at the Towers, occupying the room which had been his +in John Marchmont's lifetime; and a new existence began for Mary. The +young man was delighted with his old friend's daughter. Among all the +Calcutta belles whom he had danced with at Government-House balls and +flirted with upon the Indian racecourse, he could remember no one as +fascinating as this girl, who seemed as childlike now, in her early +womanhood, as she had been womanly while she was a child. Her naive +tenderness for himself bewitched and enraptured him. Who could have +avoided being charmed by that pure and innocent affection, which was as +freely given by the girl of eighteen as it had been by the child, and +was unchanged in character by the lapse of years? The young officer had +been so much admired and caressed in Calcutta, that perhaps, by reason +of his successes, he had returned to England heart-whole; and he +abandoned himself, without any _arriere-pensee_, to the quiet happiness +which he felt in Mary Marchmont's society. I do not say that he was +intoxicated by her beauty, which was by no means of the intoxicating +order, or that he was madly in love with her. The gentle fascination of +her society crept upon him before he was aware of its influence. He had +never taken the trouble to examine his own feelings; they were +disengaged,--as free as butterflies to settle upon which flower might +seem the fairest; and he had therefore no need to put himself under a +course of rigorous self-examination. As yet he believed that the +pleasure he now felt in Mary's society was the same order of enjoyment +he had experienced five years before, when he had taught her chess, and +promised her long rambles by the seashore. + +They had no long rambles now in solitary lanes and under flowering +hedgerows beside the waving green corn. Olivia watched them with +untiring eyes. The tortures to which a jealous woman may condemn +herself are not much greater than those she can inflict upon others. +Mrs. Marchmont took good care that her ward and her cousin were not +_too_ happy. Wherever they went, she went also; whenever they spoke, +she listened; whatever arrangement was most likely to please them was +opposed by her. Edward was not coxcomb enough to have any suspicion of +the reason of this conduct on his cousin's part. He only smiled and +shrugged his shoulders; and attributed her watchfulness to an +overstrained sense of her responsibility, and the necessity of +_surveillance_. + +"Does she think me such a villain and a traitor," he thought, "that she +fears to leave me alone with my dead friend's orphan daughter, lest I +should whisper corruption into her innocent ear? How little these good +women know of us, after all! What vulgar suspicions and narrow-minded +fears influence them against us! Are they honourable and honest towards +one another, I wonder, that they can entertain such pitiful doubts of +our honour and honesty?" + +So, hour after hour, and day after day, Olivia Marchmont kept watch and +ward over Edward and Mary. It seems strange that love could blossom in +such an atmosphere; it seems strange that the cruel gaze of those hard +grey eyes did not chill the two innocent hearts, and prevent their free +expansion. But it was not so; the egotism of love was all-omnipotent. +Neither Edward nor Mary was conscious of the evil light in the glance +that so often rested upon them. The universe narrowed itself to the one +spot of earth upon which these two stood side by side. + +Edward Arundel had been more than a month at Marchmont Towers when +Olivia went, upon a hot July evening, to Swampington, on a brief visit +to the Rector,--a visit of duty. She would doubtless have taken Mary +Marchmont with her; but the girl had been suffering from a violent +headache throughout the burning summer day, and had kept her room. +Edward Arundel had gone out early in the morning upon a fishing +excursion to a famous trout-stream seven or eight miles from the +Towers, and was not likely to return until after nightfall. There was +no chance, therefore, of a meeting between Mary and the young officer, +Olivia thought--no chance of any confidential talk which she would not +be by to hear. + +Did Edward Arundel love the pale-faced girl, who revealed her devotion +to him with such childlike unconsciousness? Olivia Marchmont had not +been able to answer that question. She had sounded the young man +several times upon his feelings towards her stepdaughter; but he had +met her hints and insinuations with perfect frankness, declaring that +Mary seemed as much a child to him now as she had appeared nearly nine +years before in Oakley Street, and that the pleasure he took in her +society was only such as he might have felt in that of any innocent and +confiding child. + +"Her simplicity is so bewitching, you know, Livy," he said; "she looks +up in my face, and trusts me with all her little secrets, and tells me +her dreams about her dead father, and all her foolish, innocent +fancies, as confidingly as if I were some playfellow of her own age and +sex. She's so refreshing after the artificial belles of a Calcutta +ballroom, with their stereotyped fascinations and their complete manual +of flirtation, the same for ever and ever. She is such a pretty little +spontaneous darling, with her soft, shy, brown eyes, and her low voice, +which always sounds to me like the cooing of the doves in the +poultry-yard." + +I think that Olivia, in the depth of her gloomy despair, took some +comfort from such speeches as these. Was this frank expression of +regard for Mary Marchmont a token of _love_? No; not as the widow +understood the stormy madness. Love to her had been a dark and terrible +passion, a thing to be concealed, as monomaniacs have sometimes +contrived to keep the secret of their mania, until it burst forth at +last, fatal and irrepressible, in some direful work of wreck and ruin. + +So Olivia Marchmont took an early dinner alone, and drove away from the +Towers at four o'clock on a blazing summer afternoon, more at peace +perhaps than she had been since Edward Arundel's coming. She paid her +dutiful visit to her father, sat with him for some time, talked to the +two old servants who waited upon him, walked two or three times up and +down the neglected garden, and then drove back to the Towers. + +The first object upon which her eyes fell as she entered the hall was +Edward Arundel's fishing-tackle lying in disorder upon an oaken bench +near the broad arched door that opened out into the quadrangle. An +angry flush mounted to her face as she turned upon the servant near +her. + +"Mr. Arundel has come home?" she said. + +"Yes, ma'am, he came in half an hour ago; but he went out again almost +directly with Miss Marchmont." + +"Indeed! I thought Miss Marchmont was in her room?" + +"No, ma'am; she came down to the drawing-room about an hour after you +left. Her head was better, ma'am, she said." + +"And she went out with Mr. Arundel? Do you know which way they went?" + +"Yes, ma'am; I heard Mr. Arundel say he wanted to look at the old +boat-house by the river." + +"And they have gone there?" + +"I think so, ma'am." + +"Very good; I will go down to them. Miss Marchmont must not stop out in +the night-air. The dew is falling already." + +The door leading into the quadrangle was open; and Olivia swept across +the broad threshold, haughty and self-possessed, very stately-looking +in her long black garments. She still wore mourning for her dead +husband. What inducement had she ever had to cast off that sombre +attire; what need had she to trick herself out in gay colours? What +loving eyes would be charmed by her splendour? She went out of the +door, across the quadrangle, under a stone archway, and into the low +stunted wood, which was gloomy even in the summer-time. The setting sun +was shining upon the western front of the Towers; but here all seemed +cold and desolate. The damp mists were rising from the sodden ground +beneath the tree; the frogs were croaking down by the river-side. With +her small white teeth set, and her breath coming in fitful gasps, +Olivia Marchmont hurried to the water's edge, winding in and out +between the trees, tearing her black dress amongst the brambles, +scorning all beaten paths, heedless where she trod, so long as she made +her way speedily to the spot she wanted to reach. + +At last the black sluggish river and the old boat-house came in sight, +between a long vista of ugly distorted trunks and gnarled branches of +pollard oak and willow. The building was dreary and +dilapidated-looking, for the improvements commenced by Edward Arundel +five years ago had never been fully carried out; but it was +sufficiently substantial, and bore no traces of positive decay. Down by +the water's edge there was a great cavernous recess for the shelter of +the boats, and above this there was a pavilion, built of brick and +stone, containing two decent-sized chambers, with latticed windows +overlooking the river. A flight of stone steps with an iron balustrade +led up to the door of this pavilion, which was supported upon the solid +side-walls of the boat-house below. + +In the stillness of the summer twilight Olivia heard the voices of +those whom she came to seek. They were standing down by the edge of the +water, upon a narrow pathway that ran along by the sedgy brink of the +river, and only a few paces from the pavilion. The door of the +boat-house was open; a long-disused wherry lay rotting upon the damp +and mossy flags. Olivia crept into the shadowy recess. The door that +faced the river had fallen from its rusty hinges, and the slimy +woodwork lay in ruins upon the shore. Sheltered by the stone archway +that had once been closed by this door, Olivia listened to the voices +beside the still water. + +Mary Marchmont was standing close to the river's edge; Edward stood +beside her, leaning against the trunk of a willow that hung over the +water. + +"My childish darling," the young man murmured, as if in reply to +something his companion had said, "and so you think, because you are +simple-minded and innocent, I am not to love you. It is your innocence +I love, Polly dear,--let me call you Polly, as I used five years +ago,--and I wouldn't have you otherwise for all the world. Do you know +that sometimes I am almost sorry I ever came back to Marchmont Towers?" + +"Sorry you came back?" cried Mary, in a tone of alarm. "Oh, why do you +say that, Mr. Arundel?" + +"Because you are heiress to eleven thousand a year, Mary, and the +Moated Grange behind us; and this dreary wood, and the river,--the +river is yours, I daresay, Miss Marchmont;--and I wish you joy of the +possession of so much sluggish water and so many square miles of swamp +and fen." + +"But what then?" Mary asked wonderingly. + +"What then? Do you know, Polly darling, that if I ask you to marry me +people will call me a fortune-hunter, and declare that I came to +Marchmont Towers bent upon stealing its heiress's innocent heart, +before she had learned the value of the estate that must go along with +it? God knows they'd wrong me, Polly, as cruelly as ever an honest man +was wronged; for, so long as I have money to pay my tailor and +tobacconist,--and I've more than enough for both of them,--I want +nothing further of the world's wealth. What should I do with all this +swamp and fen, Miss Marchmont--with all that horrible complication of +expired leases to be renewed, and income-taxes to be appealed against, +that rich people have to endure? If you were not rich, Polly, I----" + +He stopped and laughed, striking the toe of his boot amongst the weeds, +and knocking the pebbles into the water. The woman crouching in the +shadow of the archway listened with whitened cheeks and glaring eyes; +listened as she might have listened to the sentence of her death, +drinking in every syllable, in her ravenous desire to lose no breath +that told her of her anguish. + +"If I were not rich!" murmured Mary; "what if I were not rich?" + +"I should tell you how dearly I love you, Polly, and ask you to be my +wife by-and-by." + +The girl looked up at him for a few moments in silence, shyly at first, +and then more boldly, with a beautiful light kindling in her eyes. + +"I love you dearly too, Mr. Arundel," she said at last; "and I would +rather you had my money than any one else in the world; and there was +something in papa's will that made me think--" + +"There was something that made you think he would wish this, Polly," +cried the young man, clasping the trembling little figure to his +breast. "Mr. Paulette sent me a copy of the will, Polly, when he sent +my diamond-ring; and I think there were some words in it that hinted at +such a wish. Your father said he left me this legacy, darling,--I have +his letter still,--the legacy of a helpless girl. God knows I will try +to be worthy of such a trust, Mary dearest; God knows I will be +faithful to my promise, made nine years ago." + +The woman listening in the dark archway sank down upon the damp flags +at her feet, amongst the slimy rotten wood and rusty iron nails and +broken bolts and hinges. She sat there for a long time, not +unconscious, but quite motionless, her white face leaning against the +moss-grown arch, staring blankly out of the black shadows. She sat +there and listened, while the lovers talked in low tender murmurs of +the sorrowful past and of the unknown future; that beautiful untrodden +region, in which they were to go hand in hand through all the long +years of quiet happiness between the present moment and the grave. She +sat and listened till the moonlight faintly shimmered upon the water, +and the footsteps of the lovers died away upon the narrow pathway by +which they went back to the house. + +Olivia Marchmont did not move until an hour after they had gone. Then +she raised herself with an effort, and walked with stiffened limbs +slowly and painfully to the house, and to her own room, where she +locked her door, and flung herself upon the ground in the darkness. + +Mary came to her to ask why she did not come to the drawing-room, and +Mrs. Marchmont answered, with a hoarse voice, that she was ill, and +wished to be alone. Neither Mary, nor the old woman-servant who had +been Olivia's nurse long ago, and who had some little influence over +her, could get any other answer than this. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +DRIVEN AWAY. + + +Mary Marchmont and Edward Arundel were happy. They were happy; and how +should they guess the tortures of that desperate woman, whose benighted +soul was plunged in a black gulf of horror by reason of their innocent +love? How should these two--very children in their ignorance of all +stormy passions, all direful emotions--know that in the darkened +chamber where Olivia Marchmont lay, suffering under some vague illness, +for which the Swampington doctor was fain to prescribe quinine, in +utter unconsciousness as to the real nature of the disease which he was +called upon to cure,--how should they know that in that gloomy chamber +a wicked heart was abandoning itself to all the devils that had so long +held patient watch for this day? + +Yes; the struggle was over. Olivia Marchmont flung aside the cross she +had borne in dull, mechanical obedience, rather than in Christian love +and truth. Better to have been sorrowful Magdalene, forgiven for her +love and tears, than this cold, haughty, stainless woman, who had never +been able to learn the sublime lessons which so many sinners have taken +meekly to heart. The religion which was wanting in the vital principle +of Christianity, the faith which showed itself only in dogged +obedience, failed this woman in the hour of her agony. Her pride arose; +the defiant spirit of the fallen angel asserted its gloomy grandeur. + +"What have I done that I should suffer like this?" she thought. "What +am I that an empty-headed soldier should despise me, and that I should +go mad because of his indifference? Is this the recompense for my long +years of obedience? Is this the reward Heaven bestows upon me for my +life of duty!" + +She remembered the histories of other women,--women who had gone their +own way and had been happy; and a darker question arose in her mind; +almost the question which Job asked in his agony. + +"Is there neither truth nor justice in the dealings of God?" she +thought. "Is it useless to be obedient and submissive, patient and +untiring? Has all my life been a great mistake, which is to end in +confusion and despair?" + +And then she pictured to herself the life that might have been hers if +Edward Arundel had loved her. How good she would have been! The +hardness of her iron nature would have teen melted and subdued. By +force of her love and tenderness for him, she would have learned to be +loving and tender to others. Her wealth of affection for him would have +overflowed in gentleness and consideration for every creature in the +universe. The lurking bitterness which had lain hidden in her heart +ever since she had first loved Edward Arundel, and first discovered his +indifference to her; and the poisonous envy of happier women, who had +loved and were beloved,--would have been blotted away. Her whole nature +would have undergone a wondrous transfiguration, purified and exalted +by the strength of her affection. All this might have come to pass if +he had loved her,--if he had only loved her. But a pale-faced child had +come between her and this redemption; and there was nothing left for +her but despair. + +Nothing but despair? Yes; perhaps something further,--revenge. + +But this last idea took no tangible shape. She only knew that, in the +black darkness of the gulf into which her soul had gone down, there +was, far away somewhere, one ray of lurid light. She only knew this as +yet, and that she hated Mary Marchmont with a mad and wicked hatred. If +she could have thought meanly of Edward Arundel,--if she could have +believed him to be actuated by mercenary motives in his choice of the +orphan girl,--she might have taken some comfort from the thought of his +unworthiness, and of Mary's probable sorrow in the days to come. But +she _could_ not think this. Little as the young soldier had said in the +summer twilight beside the river, there had been that in his tones and +looks which had convinced the wretched watcher of his truth. Mary might +have been deceived by the shallowest pretender; but Olivia's eyes +devoured every glance; Olivia's greedy ears drank in every tone; and +she _knew_ that Edward Arundel loved her stepdaughter. + +She knew this, and she hated Mary Marchmont. What had she done, this +girl, who had never known what it was to fight a battle with her own +rebellious heart? what had she done, that all this wealth of love and +happiness should drop into her lap unsought,--comparatively unvalued, +perhaps? + +John Marchmont's widow lay in her darkened chamber thinking over these +things; no longer fighting the battle with her own heart, but utterly +abandoning herself to her desperation,--reckless, hardened, impenitent. + +Edward Arundel could not very well remain at the Towers while the +reputed illness of his hostess kept her to her room. He went over to +Swampington, therefore, upon a dutiful visit to his uncle; but rode to +the Towers every day to inquire very particularly after his cousin's +progress, and to dawdle on the sunny western terrace with Mary +Marchmont. + +Their innocent happiness needs little description. Edward Arundel +retained a good deal of that boyish chivalry which had made him so +eager to become the little girl's champion in the days gone by. Contact +with the world had not much sullied the freshness of the young man's +spirit. He loved his innocent, childish companion with the purest and +truest devotion; and he was proud of the recollection that in the day +of his poverty John Marchmont had chosen _him_ as the future shelterer +of this tender blossom. + +"You must never grow any older or more womanly, Polly," he said +sometimes to the young mistress of Marchmont Towers. "Remember that I +always love you best when I think of you as the little girl in the +shabby pinafore, who poured out my tea for me one bleak December +morning in Oakley Street." + +They talked a great deal of John Marchmont. It was such a happiness to +Mary to be able to talk unreservedly of her father to some one who had +loved and comprehended him. + +"My stepmamma was very good to poor papa, you know, Edward," she said, +"and of course he was very grateful to her; but I don't think he ever +loved her quite as he loved you. You were the friend of his poverty, +Edward; he never forgot that." + +Once, as they strolled side by side together upon the terrace in the +warm summer noontide, Mary Marchmont put her little hand through her +lover's arm, and looked up shyly in his face. + +"Did papa say that, Edward?" she whispered; "did he really say that?" + +"Did he really say what, darling?" + +"That he left me to you as a legacy?" + +"He did indeed, Polly," answered the young man. "I'll bring you the +letter to-morrow." + +And the next day he showed Mary Marchmont the yellow sheet of +letter-paper and the faded writing, which had once been black and wet +under her dead father's hand. Mary looked through her tears at the old +familiar Oakley-street address, and the date of the very day upon which +Edward Arundel had breakfasted in the shabby lodging. Yes--there were +the words: "The legacy of a child's helplessness is the only bequest I +can leave to the only friend I have." + +"And you shall never know what it is to be helpless while I am near +you, Polly darling," the soldier said, as he refolded his dead friend's +epistle. "You may defy your enemies henceforward, Mary--if you have any +enemies. O, by-the-bye, you have never heard any thing of that Paul +Marchmont, I suppose?" + +"Papa's cousin--Mr Marchmont the artist?" + +"Yes." + +"He came to the reading of papa's will." + +"Indeed! and did you see much of him?" + +"Oh, no, very little. I was ill, you know," the girl added, the tears +rising to her eyes at the recollection of that bitter time,--"I was +ill, and I didn't notice any thing. I know that Mr. Marchmont talked to +me a little; but I can't remember what he said." + +"And he has never been here since?" + +"Never." + +Edward Arundel shrugged his shoulders. This Paul Marchmont could not be +such a designing villain, after all, or surely he would have tried to +push his acquaintance with his rich cousin! + +"I dare say John's suspicion of him was only one of the poor fellow's +morbid fancies," he thought. "He was always full of morbid fancies." + +Mrs. Marchmont's rooms were in the western front of the house; and +through her open windows she heard the fresh young voices of the lovers +as they strolled up and down the terrace. The cavalry officer was +content to carry a watering-pot full of water, for the refreshment of +his young mistress's geraniums in the stone vases on the balustrade, +and to do other under-gardener's work for her pleasure. He talked to +her of the Indian campaign; and she asked a hundred questions about +midnight marches and solitary encampments, fainting camels, lurking +tigers in the darkness of the jungle, intercepted supplies of +provisions, stolen ammunition, and all the other details of the war. + +Olivia arose at last, before the Swampington surgeon's saline draughts +and quinine mixtures had subdued the fiery light in her eyes, or cooled +the raging fever that devoured her. She arose because she could no +longer lie still in her desolation knowing that, for two hours in each +long summer's day, Edward Arundel and Mary Marchmont could be happy +together in spite of her. She came down stairs, therefore, and renewed +her watch--chaining her stepdaughter to her side, and interposing +herself for ever between the lovers. + +The widow arose from her sick-bed an altered woman, as it appeared to +all who knew her. A mad excitement seemed to have taken sudden +possession of her. She flung off her mourning garments, and ordered +silks and laces, velvets and satins, from a London milliner; she +complained of the absence of society, the monotonous dulness of her +Lincolnshire life; and, to the surprise of every one, sent out cards of +invitation for a ball at the Towers in honour of Edward Arundel's +return to England. She seemed to be seized with a desire to do +something, she scarcely cared what, to disturb the even current of her +days. + +During the brief interval between Mrs. Marchmont's leaving her room and +the evening appointed for the ball, Edward Arundel found no very +convenient opportunity of informing his cousin of the engagement +entered into between himself and Mary. He had no wish to hurry this +disclosure; for there was something in the orphan girl's childishness +and innocence that kept all definite ideas of an early marriage very +far away from her lover's mind. He wanted to go back to India, and win +more laurels, to lay at the feet of the mistress of Marchmont Towers. +He wanted to make a name for himself, which should cause the world to +forget that he was a younger son,--a name that the vilest tongue would +never dare to blacken with the epithet of fortune-hunter. + +The young man was silent therefore, waiting for a fitting opportunity +in which to speak to Mary's stepmother. Perhaps he rather dreaded the +idea of discussing his attachment with Olivia; for she had looked at +him with cold angry eyes, and a brow as black as thunder, upon those +occasions on which she had sounded him as to his feelings for Mary. + +"She wants poor Polly to marry some grandee, I dare say," he thought, +"and will do all she can to oppose my suit. But her trust will cease +with Mary's majority; and I don't want my confiding little darling to +marry me until she is old enough to choose for herself, and to choose +wisely. She will be one-and-twenty in three years; and what are three +years? I would wait as long as Jacob for my pet, and serve my fourteen +years' apprenticeship under Sir Charles Napier, and be true to her all +the time." + +Olivia Marchmont hated her stepdaughter. Mary was not slow to perceive +the change in the widow's manner towards her. It had always been cold, +and sometimes severe; but it was now almost abhorrent. The girl shrank +appalled from the sinister light in her stepmother's gray eyes, as they +followed her unceasingly, dogging her footsteps with a hungry and evil +gaze. The gentle girl wondered what she had done to offend her +guardian, and then, being unable to think of any possible delinquency +by which she might have incurred Mrs. Marchmont's displeasure, was fain +to attribute the change in Olivia's manner to the irritation consequent +upon her illness, and was thus more gentle and more submissive than of +old; enduring cruel looks, returning no answer to bitter speeches, but +striving to conciliate the supposed invalid by her sweetness and +obedience. + +But the girl's amiability only irritated the despairing woman. Her +jealousy fed upon every charm of the rival who had supplanted her. That +fatal passion fed upon Edward Arundel's every look and tone, upon the +quiet smile which rested on Mary's face as the girl sat over her +embroidery, in meek silence, thinking of her lover. The self-tortures +which Olivia Marchmont inflicted upon herself were so horrible to bear, +that she turned, with a mad desire for relief, upon those she had the +power to torture. Day by day, and hour by hour, she contrived to +distress the gentle girl, who had so long obeyed her, now by a word, +now by a look, but always with that subtle power of aggravation which +some women possess in such an eminent degree--until Mary Marchmont's +life became a burden to her, or would have so become, but for that +inexpressible happiness, of which her tormentor could not deprive +her,--the joy she felt in her knowledge of Edward Arundel's love. + +She was very careful to keep the secret of her stepmother's altered +manner from the young soldier. Olivia was his cousin, and he had said +long ago that she was to love her. Heaven knows she had tried to do so, +and had failed most miserably; but her belief in Olivia's goodness was +still unshaken. If Mrs. Marchmont was now irritable, capricious, and +even cruel, there was doubtless some good reason for the alteration in +her conduct; and it was Mary's duty to be patient. The orphan girl had +learned to suffer quietly when the great affliction of her father's +death had fallen upon her; and she suffered so quietly now, that even +her lover failed to perceive any symptoms of her distress. How could +she grieve him by telling him of her sorrows, when his very presence +brought such unutterable joy to her? + +So, on the morning of the ball at Marchmont Towers,--the first +entertainment of the kind that had been given in that grim Lincolnshire +mansion since young Arthur Marchmont's untimely death,--Mary sat in her +room, with her old friend Farmer Pollard's daughter, who was now Mrs. +Jobson, the wife of the most prosperous carpenter in Kemberling. Hester +had come up to the Towers to pay a dutiful visit to her young +patroness; and upon this particular occasion Olivia had not cared to +prevent Mary and her humble friend spending half an hour together. Mrs. +Marchmont roamed from room to room upon this day, with a perpetual +restlessness. Edward Arundel was to dine at the Towers, and was to +sleep there after the ball. He was to drive his uncle over from +Swampington, as the Rector had promised to show himself for an hour or +two at his daughter's entertainment. Mary had met her stepmother +several times that morning, in the corridors and on the staircase; but +the widow had passed her in silence, with a dark face, and a shivering, +almost abhorrent gesture. + +The bright July day dragged itself out at last, with hideous slowness +for the desperate woman, who could not find peace or rest in all those +splendid rooms, on all that grassy flat, dry and burning under the +blazing summer sun. She had wandered out upon the waste of barren turf, +with her head bared to the hot sky, and had loitered here and there by +the still pools, looking gloomily at the black tideless water, and +wondering what the agony of drowning was like. Not that she had any +thought of killing herself. No: the idea of death was horrible to her; +for after her death Edward and Mary would be happy. Could she ever find +rest in the grave, knowing this? Could there be any possible extinction +that would blot out her jealous fury? Surely the fire of her hate--it +was no longer love, but hate, that raged in her heart--would defy +annihilation, eternal by reason of its intensity. When the dinner-hour +came, and Edward and his uncle arrived at the Towers, Olivia +Marchmont's pale face was lit up with eyes that flamed like fire; but +she took her accustomed place very quietly, with her father opposite to +her, and Mary and Edward upon either side. + +"I'm sure you're ill, Livy," the young man said; "you're as pale as +death, and your hand is dry and burning. I'm afraid you've not been +obedient to the Swampington doctor." + +Mrs. Marchmont shrugged her shoulders with a short contemptuous laugh. + +"I am well enough," she said. "Who cares whether I am well or ill?" + +Her father looked up at her in mute surprise. The bitterness of her +tone startled and alarmed him; but Mary never lifted her eyes. It was +in such a tone as this that her stepmother had spoken constantly of +late. + +But two or three hours afterwards, when the flats before the house were +silvered by the moonlight, and the long ranges of windows glittered +with the lamps within, Mrs. Marchmont emerged from her dressing-room +another creature, as it seemed. + +Edward and his uncle were walking up and down the great oaken +banqueting-hall, which had been decorated and fitted up as a ballroom +for the occasion, when Olivia crossed the wide threshold of the +chamber. The young officer looked up with an involuntary expression of +surprise. In all his acquaintance with his cousin, he had never seen +her thus. The gloomy black-robed woman was transformed into a +Semiramis. She wore a voluminous dress of a deep claret-coloured +velvet, that glowed with the warm hues of rich wine in the lamplight. +Her massive hair was coiled in a knot at the back of her head, and +diamonds glittered amidst the thick bands that framed her broad white +brow. Her stern classical beauty was lit up by the unwonted splendour +of her dress, and asserted itself as obviously as if she had said, "Am +I a woman to be despised for the love of a pale-faced child?" + +Mary Marchmont came into the room a few minutes after her stepmother. +Her lover ran to welcome her, and looked fondly at her simple dress of +shadowy white crape, and the pearl circlet that crowned her soft brown +hair. The pearls she wore upon this night had been given to her by her +father on her fourteenth birthday. + +Olivia watched the young man as he bent over Mary Marchmont. + +He wore his uniform to-night for the special gratification of his young +mistress, and he was looking down with a tender smile at her childish +admiration of the bullion ornaments upon his coat, and the decoration +he had won in India. + +The widow looked from the two lovers to an antique glass upon an ebony +bureau in a niche opposite to her, which reflected her own face,--her +own face, more beautiful than she had ever seen it before, with a +feverish glow of vivid crimson lighting up her hollow cheeks. + +"I might have been beautiful if he had loved me," she thought; and then +she turned to her father, and began to talk to him of his parishioners, +the old pensioners upon her bounty, whose little histories were so +hatefully familiar to her. Once more she made a feeble effort to tread +the old hackneyed pathway, which she had toiled upon with such weary +feet; but she could not,--she could not. After a few minutes she turned +abruptly from the Rector, and seated herself in a recess of the window, +from which she could see Edward and Mary. + +But Mrs. Marchmont's duties as hostess soon demanded her attention. The +county families began to arrive; the sound of carriage-wheels seemed +perpetual upon the crisp gravel-drive before the western front; the +names of half the great people in Lincolnshire were shouted by the old +servants in the hall. The band in the music-gallery struck up a +quadrille, and Edward Arundel led the youthful mistress of the mansion +to her place in the dance. + +To Olivia that long night seemed all glare and noise and confusion. She +did the honours of the ballroom, she received her guests, she meted out +due attention to all; for she had been accustomed from her earliest +girlhood to the stereotyped round of country society. She neglected no +duty; but she did all mechanically, scarcely knowing what she said or +did in the feverish tumult of her soul. + +Yet, amidst all the bewilderment of her senses, in all the confusion of +her thoughts, two figures were always before her. Wherever Edward +Arundel and Mary Marchmont went, her eyes followed them--her fevered +imagination pursued them. Once, and once only, in the course of that +long night she spoke to her stepdaughter. + +"How often do you mean to dance with Captain Arundel, Miss Marchmont?" +she said. + +But before Mary could answer, her stepmother had moved away upon the +arm of a portly country squire, and the girl was left in sorrowful +wonderment as to the reason of Mrs. Marchmont's angry tone. + +Edward and Mary were standing in one of the deep embayed windows of the +banqueting-hall, when the dancers began to disperse, long after supper. +The girl had been very happy that evening, in spite of her stepmother's +bitter words and disdainful glances. For almost the first time in her +life, the young mistress of Marchmont Towers had felt the contagious +influence of other people's happiness. The brilliantly-lighted +ballroom, the fluttering dresses of the dancers, the joyous music, the +low sound of suppressed laughter, the bright faces which smiled at each +other upon every side, were as new as any thing in fairyland to this +girl, whose narrow life had been overshadowed by the gloomy figure of +her stepmother, for ever interposed between her and the outer world. +The young spirit arose and shook off its fetters, fresh and radiant as +the butterfly that escapes from its chrysalis. The new light of +happiness illumined the orphan's delicate face, until Edward Arundel +began to wonder at her loveliness, as he had wondered once before that +night at the fiery splendour of his cousin Olivia. + +"I had no idea that Olivia was so handsome, or you so pretty, my +darling," he said, as he stood with Mary in the embrasure of the +window. "You look like Titania, the queen of the fairies, Polly, with +your cloudy draperies and crown of pearls." + +The window was open, and Captain Arundel looked wistfully at the broad +flagged quadrangle beautified by the light of the full summer moon. He +glanced back into the room; it was nearly empty now; and Mrs. Marchmont +was standing near the principal doorway, bidding the last of her guests +goodnight. + +"Come into the quadrangle, Polly," he said, "and take a turn with me +under the colonnade. It was a cloister once, I dare say, in the good +old days before Harry the Eighth was king; and cowled monks have paced +up and down under its shadow, muttering mechanical aves and +paternosters, as the beads of their rosaries dropped slowly through +their shrivelled old fingers. Come out into the quadrangle, Polly; all +the people we know or case about are gone; and we'll go out and walk in +the moonlight as true lovers ought." + +The soldier led his young companion across the threshold of the window, +and out into a cloister-like colonnade that ran along one side of the +house. The shadows of the Gothic pillars were black upon the moonlit +flags of the quadrangle, which was as light now as in the day; but a +pleasant obscurity reigned in the sheltered colonnade. + +"I think this little bit of pre-Lutheran masonry is the best of all +your possessions, Polly," the young man said, laughing. "By-and-by, +when I come home from India a general,--as I mean to do, Miss +Marchmont, before I ask you to become Mrs. Arundel,--I shall stroll up +and down here in the still summer evenings, smoking my cheroots. You +will let me smoke out of doors, won't you, Polly? But suppose I should +leave some of my limbs on the banks of the Sutlej, and come limping +home to you with a wooden leg, would you have me then, Mary; or would +you dismiss me with ignominy from your sweet presence, and shut the +doors of your stony mansion upon myself and my calamities? I'm afraid, +from your admiration of my gold epaulettes and silk sash, that glory in +the abstract would have very little attraction for you." + +Mary Marchmont looked up at her lover with widely-opened and wondering +eyes, and the clasp of her hand tightened a little upon his arm. + +"There is nothing that could ever happen to you that would make me love +you less _now_," she said naively. "I dare say at first I liked you a +little because you were handsome, and different to every one else I had +ever seen. You were so very handsome, you know," she added +apologetically; "but it was not because of that _only_ that I loved +you. I loved you because papa told me you were good and generous, and +his true friend when he was in cruel need of a friend. Yes; you were +his friend at school, when your cousin, Martin Mostyn, and the other +pupils sneered at him and ridiculed him. How can I ever forget that, +Edward? How can I ever love you enough to repay you for that?" In the +enthusiasm of her innocent devotion, she lifted her pure young brow, +and the soldier bent down and kissed that white throne of all virginal +thoughts, as the lovers stood side by side; half in the moonlight, half +in the shadow. + +Olivia Marchmont came into the embrasure of the open window, and took +her place there to watch them. + +She came again to the torture. From the remotest end of the long +banqueting-room she had seen the two figures glide out into the +moonlight. She had seen them, and had gone on with her courteous +speeches, and had repeated her formula of hospitality, with the fire in +her heart devouring and consuming her. She came again, to watch and to +listen, and to endure her self-imposed agonies--as mad and foolish in +her fatal passion as some besotted wretch who should come willingly to +the wheel upon which his limbs had been well-nigh broken, and +supplicate for a renewal of the torture. She stood rigid and motionless +in the shadow of the arched window, hiding herself, as she had hidden +in the dark cavernous recess by the river; she stood and listened to +all the childish babble of the lovers as they loitered up and down the +vaulted cloister. How she despised them, in the haughty superiority of +an intellect which might have planned a revolution, or saved a sinking +state! What bitter scorn curled her lip, as their foolish talk fell +upon her ear! They talked like Florizel and Perdita, like Romeo and +Juliet, like Paul and Virginia; and they talked a great deal of +nonsense, no doubt--soft harmonious foolishness, with little more +meaning in it than there is in the cooing of doves, but tender and +musical, and more than beautiful, to each other's ears. A tigress, +famished and desolate, and but lately robbed of her whelps, would not +be likely to listen very patiently to the communing of a pair of +prosperous ringdoves. Olivia Marchmont listened with her brain on fire, +and the spirit of a murderess raging in her breast. What was she that +she should be patient? All the world was lost to her. She was thirty +years of age, and she had never yet won the love of any human being. +She was thirty years of age, and all the sublime world of affection was +a dismal blank for her. From the outer darkness in which she stood, she +looked with wild and ignorant yearning into that bright region which +her accursed foot had never trodden, and saw Mary Marchmont wandering +hand-in-hand with the only man _she_ could have loved--the only +creature who had ever had the power to awake the instinct of womanhood +in her soul. + +She stood and waited until the clock in the quadrangle struck the first +quarter after three: the moon was fading out, and the colder light of +early morning glimmered in the eastern sky. + +"I mustn't keep you out here any longer, Polly," Captain Arundel said, +pausing near the window. "It's getting cold, my dear, and it's high +time the mistress of Marchmont should retire to her stony bower. +Good-night, and God bless you, my darling! I'll stop in the quadrangle +and smoke a cheroot before I go to my room. Your stepmamma will be +wondering what has become of you, Mary, and we shall have a lecture +upon the proprieties to-morrow; so, once more, good-night." + +He kissed the fair young brow under the coronal of pearls, stopped to +watch Mary while she crossed the threshold of the open window, and then +strolled away into the flagged court, with his cigar-case in his hand. + +Olivia Marchmont stood a few paces from the window when her +stepdaughter entered the room, and Mary paused involuntarily, terrified +by the cruel aspect of the face that frowned upon her: terrified by +something that she had never seen before,--the horrible darkness that +overshadows the souls of the lost. + +"Mamma!" the girl cried, clasping her hands in sudden affright--"mamma! +why do you look at me like that? Why have you been so changed to me +lately? I cannot tell you how unhappy I have been. Mamma, mamma! what +have I done to offend you?" + +Olivia Marchmont grasped the trembling hands uplifted entreatingly to +her, and held them in her own,--held them as if in a vice. She stood +thus, with her stepdaughter pinioned in her grasp, and her eyes fixed +upon the girl's face. Two streams of lurid light seemed to emanate from +those dilated gray eyes; two spots of crimson blazed in the widow's +hollow cheeks. + +"_What_ have you done?" she cried. "Do you think I have toiled for +nothing to do the duty which I promised my dead husband to perform for +your sake? Has all my care of you been so little, that I am to stand by +now and be silent, when I see what you are? Do you think that I am +blind, or deaf, or besotted; that you defy me and outrage me, day by +day, and hour by hour, by your conduct?" + +"Mamma, mamma! what do you mean?" + +"Heaven knows how rigidly you have been educated; how carefully you +have been secluded from all society, and sheltered from every +influence, lest harm or danger should come to you. I have done my duty, +and I wash my hands of you. The debasing taint of your mother's low +breeding reveals itself in your every action. You run after my cousin +Edward Arundel, and advertise your admiration of him, to himself, and +every creature who knows you. You fling yourself into his arms, and +offer him yourself and your fortune: and in your low cunning you try to +keep the secret from me, your protectress and guardian, appointed by +the dead father whom you pretend to have loved so dearly." + +Olivia Marchmont still held her stepdaughter's wrists in her iron +grasp. The girl stared wildly at her with her trembling lips apart. She +began to think that the widow had gone mad. + +"I blush for you--I am ashamed of you!" cried Olivia. It seemed as if +the torrent of her words burst forth almost in spite of herself. "There +is not a village girl in Kemberling, there is not a scullerymaid in +this house, who would have behaved as you have done. I have watched +you, Mary Marchmont, remember, and I know all. I know your wanderings +down by the river-side. I heard you--yes, by the Heaven above me!--I +heard you offer yourself to my cousin." + +Mary drew herself up with an indignant gesture, and over the whiteness +of her face there swept a sudden glow of vivid crimson that faded as +quickly as it came. Her submissive nature revolted against her +stepmother's horrible tyranny. The dignity of innocence arose and +asserted itself against Olivia's shameful upbraiding. + +"If I offered myself to Edward Arundel, mamma," she said, "it was +because we love each other very truly, and because I think and believe +papa wished me to marry his old friend." + +"Because _we_ love each other very truly!" Olivia echoed in a tone of +unmitigated scorn. "You can answer for Captain Arundel's heart, I +suppose, then, as well as for your own? You must have a tolerably good +opinion of yourself, Miss Marchmont, to be able to venture so much. +Bah!" she cried suddenly, with a disdainful gesture of her head; "do +you think your pitiful face has won Edward Arundel? Do you think he has +not had women fifty times your superior, in every quality of mind and +body, at his feet out yonder in India? Are you idiotic and besotted +enough to believe that it is anything but your fortune this man cares +for? Do you know the vile things people will do, the lies they will +tell, the base comedies of guilt and falsehood they will act, for the +love of eleven thousand a year? And you think that he loves you! Child, +dupe, fool! are you weak enough to be deluded by a fortune-hunter's +pretty pastoral flatteries? Are you weak enough to be duped by a man of +the world, worn out and jaded, no doubt, as to the world's +pleasures--in debt perhaps, and in pressing need of money, who comes +here to try and redeem his fortunes by a marriage with a semi-imbecile +heiress?" + +Olivia Marchmont released her hold of the shrinking girl, who seemed to +have become transfixed to the spot upon which she stood, a pale statue +of horror and despair. + +The iron will of the strong and resolute woman rode roughshod over the +simple confidence of the ignorant girl. Until this moment, Mary +Marchmont had believed in Edward Arundel as implicitly as she had +trusted in her dead father. But now, for the first time, a dreadful +region of doubt opened before her; the foundations of her world reeled +beneath her feet. Edward Arundel a fortune-hunter! This woman, whom she +had obeyed for five weary years, and who had acquired that ascendancy +over her which a determined and vigorous nature must always exercise +over a morbidly sensitive disposition, told her that she had been +deluded. This woman laughed aloud in bitter scorn of her credulity. +This woman, who could have no possible motive for torturing her, and +who was known to be scrupulously conscientious in all her dealings, +told her, as plainly as the most cruel words could tell a cruel truth, +that her own charms could not have won Edward Arundel's affection. + +All the beautiful day-dreams of her life melted away from her. She had +never questioned herself as to her worthiness of her lover's devotion. +She had accepted it as she accepted the sunshine and the starlight--as +something beautiful and incomprehensible, that came to her by the +beneficence of God, and not through any merits of her own. But as the +fabric of her happiness dwindled away, the fatal spell exercised over +the girl's weak nature by Olivia's violent words evoked a hundred +doubts. How should he love her? why should he love her in preference to +every other woman in the world? Set any woman to ask herself this +question, and you fill her mind with a thousand suspicions, a thousand +jealous doubts of her lover, though he were the truest and noblest in +the universe. + +Olivia Marchmont stood a few paces from her stepdaughter, watching her +while the black shadow of doubt blotted every joy from her heart, and +utter despair crept slowly into her innocent breast. The widow expected +that the girl's self-esteem would assert itself--that she would +contradict and defy the traducer of her lover's truth; but it was not +so. When Mary spoke again, her voice was low and subdued, her manner as +submissive as it had been two or three years before, when she had stood +before her stepmother, waiting to repeat some difficult lesson. + +"I dare say you are right, mamma," she said in a low dreamy tone, +looking not at her stepmother, but straight before her into vacancy, as +if her tearless eyes ware transfixed by the vision of all her shattered +hopes, filling with wreck and ruin the desolate foreground of a blank +future. "I dare say you are right, mamma; it was very foolish of me to +think that Edward--that Captain Arundel could care for me, for--for--my +own sake; but if--if he wants my fortune, I should wish him to have it. +The money will never be any good to me, you know, mamma; and he was so +kind to papa in his poverty--so kind! I will never, never believe +anything against him;--but I couldn't expect him to love me. I +shouldn't have offered to be his wife; I ought only to have offered him +my fortune." + +She heard her lover's footstep in the quadrangle without, in the +stillness of the summer morning, and shivered at the sound. It was less +than a quarter of an hour since she had been walking with him up and +down that cloistered way, in which his footsteps were echoing with a +hollow sound; and now----. Even in the confusion of her anguish, Mary +Marchmont could not help wondering, as she thought in how short a time +the happiness of a future might be swept away into chaos. + +"Good-night, mamma," she said presently, with an accent of weariness. +She did not look at her stepmother (who had turned away from her now, +and had walked towards the open window), but stole quietly from the +room, crossed the hall, and went up the broad staircase to her own +lonely chamber. Heiress though she was, she had no special attendant of +her own: she had the privilege of summoning Olivia's maid whenever she +had need of assistance; but she retained the simple habits of her early +life, and very rarely troubled Mrs. Marchmont's grim and elderly +Abigail. + +Olivia stood looking out into the stony quadrangle. It was broad +daylight now; the cocks were crowing in the distance, and a skylark +singing somewhere in the blue heaven, high up above Marchmont Towers. +The faded garlands in the banqueting-room looked wan in the morning +sunshine; the lamps were burning still, for the servants waited until +Mrs. Marchmont should have retired, before they entered the room. +Edward Arundel was walking up and down the cloister, smoking his second +cigar. + +He stopped presently, seeing his cousin at the window. + +"What, Livy!" he cried, "not gone to bed yet?" + +"No; I am going directly." + +"Mary has gone, I hope?" + +"Yes; she has gone. Good-night." + +"Good _morning_, my dear Mrs. Marchmont," the young man answered, +laughing. "If the partridges were in, I should be going out shooting, +this lovely morning, instead of crawling ignominiously to bed, like a +worn-out reveller who has drunk too much sparkling hock. I like the +still best, by-the-bye,--the Johannisberger, that poor John's +predecessor imported from the Rhine. But I suppose there is no help for +it, and I must go to bed in the face of all that eastern glory. I +should be mounting for a gallop on the race-course, if I were in +Calcutta. But I'll go to bed, Mrs Marchmont, and humbly await your +breakfast-hour. They're stacking the new hay in the meadows beyond the +park. Don't you smell it?" + +Olivia shrugged her shoulders with an impatient frown. Good heavens! +how frivolous and senseless this man's talk seemed to her! She was +plunging her soul into an abyss of sin and ruin for his sake; and she +hated him, and rebelled against him, because he was so little worthy of +the sacrifice. + +"Good morning," she said abruptly; "I'm tired to death." + +She moved away, and left him. + +Five minutes afterwards, he went up the great oak-staircase after her, +whistling a serenade from _Fra Diavolo_ as he went. He was one of those +people to whom life seems all holiday. Younger son though he was, he +had never known any of the pitfalls of debt and difficulty into which +the junior members of rich families are so apt to plunge headlong in +early youth, and from which they emerge enfeebled and crippled, to +endure an after-life embittered by all the shabby miseries which wait +upon aristocratic pauperism. Brave, honourable, and simple-minded, +Edward Arundel had fought the battle of life like a good soldier, and +had carried a stainless shield when the fight was thickest, and victory +hard to win. His sunshiny nature won him friends, and his better +qualities kept them. Young men trusted and respected him; and old men, +gray in the service of their country, spoke well of him. His handsome +face was a pleasant decoration at any festival; his kindly voice and +hearty laugh at a dinner-table were as good as music in the gallery at +the end of the banqueting-chamber. + +He had that freshness of spirit which is the peculiar gift of some +natures; and he had as yet never known sorrow, except, indeed, such +tender and compassionate sympathy as he had often felt for the +calamities of others. + +Olivia Marchmont heard her cousin's cheery tenor voice as he passed her +chamber. "How happy he is!" she thought. "His very happiness is one +insult the more to me." + +The widow paced up and down her room in the morning sunshine, thinking +of the things she had said in the banqueting-hall below, and of her +stepdaughter's white despairing face. What had she done? What was the +extent of the sin she had committed? Olivia Marchmont asked herself +these two questions. The old habit of self-examination was not quite +abandoned yet. She sinned, and then set herself to work to try and +justify her sin. + +"How should he love her?" she thought. "What is there in her pale +unmeaning face that should win the love of a man who despises me?" + +She stopped before a cheval-glass, and surveyed herself from head to +foot, frowning angrily at her handsome image, hating herself for her +despised beauty. Her white shoulders looked like stainless marble +against the rich ruby darkness of her velvet dress. She had snatched +the diamond ornaments from her head, and her long black hair fell about +her bosom in thick waveless tresses. + +"I am handsomer than she is, and cleverer; and I love him better, ten +thousand times, than she loves him," Olivia Marchmont thought, as she +turned contemptuously from the glass. "Is it likely, then, that he +cares for anything but her fortune? Any other woman in the world would +have argued as I argued to-night. Any woman would have believed that +she did her duty in warning this besotted girl against her folly. What +do I know of Edward Arundel that should lead me to think him better or +nobler than other men? and how many men sell themselves for the love of +a woman's wealth! Perhaps good may come of my mad folly, after all; and +I may have saved this girl from a life of misery by the words I have +spoken to-night." + +The devils--for ever lying in wait for this woman, whose gloomy pride +rendered her in some manner akin to themselves--may have laughed at her +as she argued thus with herself. + +She lay down at last to sleep, worn out by the excitement of the long +night, and to dream horrible dreams. The servants, with the exception +of one who rose betimes to open the great house, slept long after the +unwonted festival. Edward Arundel slumbered as heavily as any member of +that wearied household; and thus it was that there was no one in the +way to see a shrinking, trembling figure creep down the +sunlit-staircase, and steal across the threshold of the wide hall door. + +There was no one to see Mary Marchmont's silent flight from the gaunt +Lincolnshire mansion in which she had known so little real happiness. +There was no one to comfort the sorrow-stricken girl in her despair and +desolation of spirit. She crept away, like some escaped prisoner, in +the early morning, from the house which the law called her own. + +And the hand of the woman whom John Marchmont had chosen to be his +daughter's friend and counsellor was the hand which drove that daughter +from the shelter of her home. The voice of her whom the weak father had +trusted in, fearful to confide his child into the hand of God, but +blindly confident in his own judgment--was the voice which had uttered +the lying words, whose every syllable had been as a separate dagger +thrust in the orphan girl's lacerated heart. It was her father,--her +father, who had placed this woman over her, and had entailed upon her +the awful agony that drove her out into an unknown world, careless +whither she went in her despair. + + + + +END OF VOL. I. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of John Marchmont's Legacy, Volume I (of +3), by Mary E. 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