Parlar di te non voglio, e fra le labbraHo sempre il nome tuo: vó dal pensieroCancellar quel sembiante e in ogni oggettoCol pensier lo dipingo.METASTASIO.
In rapid attacks of illness, like that which Harriet suffered from, there is, fortunately, no very long interval of suspense for those interested in the patient.
The next day she was much better, and the day after was able to sit up by her dressing-room fire, and talk and laugh pretty much as usual.
"Oh! by the way," said Harriet, interrupting a lively discussion upon some trifling subject, "did Mr. Gage ever condescendto enquire after me while I was ill?"
Margaret had rather feared this question, but she was obliged to reply that he had not.
Harriet seemed more disturbed by this proof of his indifference than Margaret had ever before seen her.
After a pause she said: "Did he seem—" then, suddenly interrupting herself, she exclaimed, "Pshaw! I will not stoop to enquire what he seemed. Perhaps," she added, after another pause, "I had no reason to expect any-thing else from him."
"I thought it very unkind," said Margaret.
Harriet nodded her head in acquiescence, and remained silently gazing into the fire. Once or twice she felt for her handkerchief, and drew it hastily across her eyes as if she did not wish to be observed.
"The fire makes one's eyes weak," she said at last.
Margaret agreed to it.
"Oh! by the way, how do you get on with Mr. Humphries?" said Harriet, rousing herself.
"He was always very considerate," said Margaret, "and extremely sorry for your illness."
"He is a good soul," said Harriet, "You had better think twice, before you throw him away."
"I do not throw him away," said Margaret smiling; "but I confess I have no desire to captivate him."
"He would make a very good husband, ma mie."
"I dare say," replied Margaret, "but it is all very much out of my way."
"Why you cannot mean to be single for ever," said Harriet. "I assure you I often think who I shall entrap, now that George won't have me."
"Whose fault is that?" asked Margaret.
"I detest him—I hate him from my heart!" exclaimed Harriet. "I would acceptMr. Humphries, to-morrow, or Sir Hawarth Fane, with all the readiness in the world. How dare he remain in this house, when I ordered him to leave it?"
"I told you what he said," replied Margaret.
"Is not Charlotte very late with my tea?" asked Harriet, in her usual manner.
"I think it is rather past the time," replied Margaret.
"The girl grows more careless every day," said Harriet. "I hope George does not make love to her."
"Oh! Harriet—impossible! a gentleman—"
"Why my dear," said Harriet drily, "such things have been done once or twice—it is a very wicked world; she has some nonsense in her head, I am sure, for she marked a whole set of handkerchiefs wrong for me the other day."
At this moment Charlotte came in with the tea-things, Harriet leaned over the tray, and surveyed the cups.
"Charlotte!" she exclaimed, "where is the cream jug?"
"Oh, dear, Miss Conway! I forgot it. I will bring it up in a minute."
"Charlotte!" exclaimed Harriet, with a tragic frown, "you are in love."
Charlotte gave a prodigious start, but she denied the charge.
"Oh! dear me, Miss Conway, how you can say so," she simpered. "It is only your fun. I thank goodness, I keep myself to myself."
"Very good," said Harriet, "I don't care how many hearts you break, only don't lose your own."
Charlotte thought this a famous joke—she tossed her head, laughed and disappeared.
But a few days after, while she was dressing her young mistress; after having committed a series of blunders, which were enough to try the patience of anybody, she stood quite still, and began to cry.
Harriet was very good-natured to herservants; she threw herself into a chair, stifled a strong inclination to laugh, and begged to know what was the matter.
"If you would please to speak for me, Miss Conway," sobbed the agitated Charlotte.
"Speak for you? Do you mean that you wish me to give you a character? Certainly, when you leave, if you mean to leave me. I did not know you wished to go away."
Charlotte shook her head.
"What can be the matter then, Charlotte; is my Aunt Singleton displeased with you?"
Another shake, and a burst of sobbing.
"Are you ill! You had better let me give you some medicine," said Harriet, looking for the key of her medicine chest.
"Perhaps, Miss Conway, did not know that Mr. Gage was going to leave Singleton Manor."
Harriet turned pale. No she did not know it. "When was he going?"
Charlotte knew nothing about Mr.Gage; she only knew that his horses were to set off for Chirke Weston the day after to-morrow.
"But you are hardly crying after Mr. Gage's horses," said Harriet, making a desperate effort to rally her spirits.
"Mr. Thompson!" sobbed the damsel.
"Oh! he is the objection—what have you to say against Mr. Thompson? Mr. Gage's groom, I conclude."
Mr. Thompson had made Charlotte an offer; very respectful, and very devoted, Charlotte said he was. She confessed that Mr. Thompson was not indifferent to her, but he was so much in awe of his master, that he could not muster up courage to confess his weakness.
"But why does he not give Mr. Gage warning?" asked Harriet.
"Because," Charlotte said, "Mr. Thompson had a very good salary; (Charlotte was always genteel in her language; she never hinted at wages,) and it might be a very long time before he got such another situation,and he could less afford to lose it, if he had a wife to support."
"Then, Charlotte, you must wait," said Harriet with decision; "it is no great hardship, how many ladies are obliged to wait—Mr. Gage will never suffer a married man in his service, moving as he does from place to place. You can never expect to have every thing you wish, I shall be happy to forward your interests when it is in my power, but just now it is clearly impossible."
"If you would only speak to Mr. Gage for Henry," said Charlotte, hiding her face in her apron.
"I do not believe an angel would be able to persuade him to keep a married man in his service," said Harriet, "as for me I have no influence at all with Mr. Gage—Thompson and you must wait."
"We were married this morning!" cried the waiting-woman with another torrent of tears.
Harriet felt very angry at first; and sheexclaimed, "Charlotte, I am ashamed of you!" but she disliked to see people cry, and it occurred to her that it was rather a dreary method of spending one's wedding-day; so she softened down, said that she would consult with her aunt about them, and try to make the best of a bad bargain. "But I warn you," she said "that you will both lose your places, the only thing left is for us to try and find you others."
"If Miss Conway would be so good as to break the news to Mr. Gage, for Henry dared not."
"Very good," said Harriet, "I have no objection. Thompson need not be afraid that Mr. Gage would shoot him; but if he is too delicate, I will undertake it,Iam not afraid of Mr. Gage. But how, in the name of goodness, Charlotte, did you become so intimate with Thompson. Living as you do in the housekeeper's room, where Aunt Singleton does not allow any of the men?"
For Mrs. Singleton had a peculiar customof having every female servant under the eye of the housekeeper, at meals, and other leisure times; while the butler presided over the men servants, both high and low, in like manner; so that they had no business together at all in that house.
Charlotte blushing very much, said that "Mr. Gage was in the habit of sending Thompson to enquire of her how Miss Conway was, three or four times a day, during her illness; in consequence of which he was always laying in wait for her, first on his master's account, and next upon his own. So that it was Mr. Gage's fault after all."
"Beg Miss Capel to come to me," said Harriet, with sparkling eyes; "and then let Mr. Gage know that I desire the favour of his company for half a minute. But first, Mrs. Thompson, wipe your eyes if you please, or Mr. Gage will think I have been beating you."
Charlotte with a smiling face, departed upon her errand; and Harriet walked to the looking glass.
"Come, I am not so very much pulled down by my illness," said she with a smile.
Margaret came in, heard the delinquency of Charlotte with much surprise; and readily agreed to ply her worsted work in the boudoir during Mr. Gage's visit. She anticipated, with some pleasure, the scene that was about to be enacted. Harriet began to grow nervous, as he did not come directly, and turned over in her mind how she should introduce the subject—a rare occurrence with her.
At last Mr. Gage who had been found in the park, and forwarded up-stairs by the butler, made his appearance, walked calmly in, shook hands with Harriet, on the strength of her absence, and "trusted that she was recovering."
"Oh, yes, quite! I am much better, I shall be able to go to the Veseys on Thursday, Mr. Gage, which is the extent of my ambition at present."
Mr. Gage rather wondered whether shehad sent for him into her own particular sitting-room to talk to him about the Veseys; but he merely remarked that he was going into Devonshire on that day, or he believed he should have joined their party, as Mrs. Vesey had been so polite as to ask him.
"Ah! so I hear," said Harriet, in a friendly tone. "How dull poor Chirke Weston will look, now they are all away."
"Dull enough," said Mr. Gage; and he sighed, thinking of his sister, and all the troubles she had gone through.
"I have not heard from Bessy, I don't know when," said Harriet.
"Nor I," said Mr. Gage. "I imagine she has not much to say."
"And writing is such a bore," said Harriet.
"A great bore," said Mr. Gage.
"I will tell you who writes a great number of letters," said Harriet. "My brother, Evan."
"And really clever ones," replied Mr. Gage.
"No! Does he ever write to you?" exclaimed Harriet.
"Now and then," said Mr. Gage. "I think he writes to Hubert more than to any of us."
The conversation had been very placid hitherto: Margaret hardly thought it could last.
There was a short pause; during which Harriet sat playing with her rings. It was such an unusual thing for Harriet to appear constrained in her manner to any one, that Mr. Gage was considerably puzzled.
Although by no means addicted to holding himself in low estimation, he did not suppose that Harriet had sent for him to make a pathetic declaration; more particularly as Margaret was present, and did not appear likely to leave the room.
"Well, Mr. Gage," said Harriet, looking up, "I heard something this morning which surprised me very much."
"Really!" said Mr. Gage, bending forwards; "I trust, nothing of an unpleasant nature?"
"Oh, yes! I was displeased too," said Harriet.
"Can I be of any service?" asked Mr. Gage, very civilly.
"Oh, dear me, George, no!" said Harriet, suddenly. "The thing is past mending. Your plague of a groom has been making love to my Charlotte, and married her this morning."
Mr. Gage never swore before ladies; though he had seldom felt more inclined to relieve his mind by that simple process. But after the angry pause of a minute, he ejaculated, with raised eyebrows, the words, "Highly impertinent!"
"And so ridiculous—so imprudent!" said Harriet; "how are they to live, I wonder?"
"Oh! Heaven knows how they are to live," said Mr. Gage, drawing his chair wonderfully near to Harriet; "that is their affair—not ours, you know."
"Our affair!" How odd the words sounded. Harriet blushed.
"I am so sorry about Charlotte," she said; "she does know how to dress hair!"
Mr. Gage cast an admiring glance upon Harriet's shining tresses, and added:
"I am sorry, too, to lose Thompson. He understands his business very well."
"It is very provoking. Such things are the last extent of folly," said Harriet.
"In that class, certainly;" said Mr. Gage.
"Well, but, George, what is to be done?" asked Harriet, suddenly.
Now, if she ever desired Mr. Gage to exert himself to the utmost in her service, she had only to call him George. The effect was cabalistic.
"I must get rid of Thompson, you see," he said, in a deprecating manner. "The man never could wander about with a wife and children at his heels."
"It is very odd how my maids always do marry," said Harriet. "One would thinkAunt Singleton kept them close enough. You remember, Anne?"
Yes—he remembered Anne, perfectly; and it was very probable that Anne remembered him, for he had often given her a guinea to convey flowers and notes to her young lady's dressing-table, in the days of their early courtship.
"Well! two have actually married since Anne's time," said Harriet, in an injured tone; "and now Charlotte, whom I always did consider rather a plain woman; she must needs do just the same."
"It is too annoying," said Mr. Gage, examining the fringe of Harriet's beautiful shawl. "I am very sorry you should be so put out of your way."
"Shall you take Thompson away with you, on Thursday?" said Harriet, looking up in his face.
"Oh! I think I had better pay him off at once, and have done with him," said Mr. Gage.
"But I am interested for the bride andbridegroom," said Harriet, "I want to know what they had better do."
"Thompson should get into a gentleman's family, where his wife could be lodge-keeper," said Mr. Gage.
"I'll tell you what," said Harriet, who had observed Mr. Gage's arm on the back of her chair, and whose restless spirit delighted in mischief; "I will ask that dear Mr. Humphries to look out for such a place. I am sure he will use his best endeavours; kind, good creature that he is."
"Then you have no farther commands with me," said Mr. Gage, rising directly, and preparing to leave the room.
"Not any; only you won't be very angry with poor Thompson!" said Harriet, her eyes flashing with merriment as the door closed upon Mr. Gage.
"Come here to me, Margaret, and don't shake your head at me in that way, for I will not bear it."
El. Lo.Mistress, I came to see you.Lady.That's happily dispatched—the next!El. Lo.To take leave of you.Lady.You need not have despaired of that, nor haveused so many circumstances to win me to giveyou leave to perform my commands. Is therea third?El. Lo.Yes! I had a third, had you been apt to hear it.Lady.I? never after—Fast, good servant, fast.El. Lo.'Twas to intreat you to hear Reason.Lady.Most willingly—have you brought one can speakit?El. Lo.Lastly, it is to kindle in that barren heart Loveand Forgiveness.THE SCORNFUL LADY.
"I am sorry you are going to-morrow," said Mr. Humphries the next morning at breakfast to Mr. Gage; "I wanted you to see my Arab."
"I will ride over this morning," said Mr. Gage, "I have nothing else to do."
"He was so sick on the passage, that they did not think he would have lived," said Mr. Humphries, turning to Margaret. "He's better now."
"Poor creature! I didn't know horses were ever sea-sick," said Margaret.
"They are wonderful animals," said Harriet, "I wish somebody would write a novel about a horse."
"You used to be so fond of horses," said Mr. Singleton.
"So I am, comparatively," said Harriet, glancing around at the gentlemen present.
Margaret had often a hard matter to preserve her gravity, but now she was vexed with Harriet, who had employed herself ever since she came down stairs in petting Mr. Humphries, on purpose to pique Mr. Gage. She offered him cream and sugar; she gave him advice about his diet; showed him the best way to eat a smelt; fussed about his toast; and took more trouble to make him comfortable, than she had ever done with anybody before.
Mr. Singleton, from his partiality to Mr. Humphries, took it all in good part; but Mr. Gage looked very cloudy. He rose as soon as possible and left the table, and walked up and down the room, keeping his eyes fixed upon Mr. Humphries and Harriet.
Harriet rose and looked about among the dishes.
"You can tell me, Mr. Humphries," she said, "what is the best thing I can give my terrier. He only eats twice a day, and I never let him touch raw meat."
"Oh! I don't know—I—it does not matter what you give him," said Mr. Humphries.
"A slice of this cold beef then," said Harriet, "will you cut it for me?"
Mr. Humphries complied; nearly cut his own hand, as might have been expected, but succeeded in getting off a slice.
"A little bit more," said Harriet, looking coaxingly at him.
"Oh! upon my word, that is plenty!" said Mr. Humphries.
"No, just one little bit," said Harriet stretching out the plate.
Mr. Humphries laughed awkwardly and cut it.
"You will spoil your dog, you know," he said.
During this little bit of coquetry, on her part, Mr. Gage had been increasing in rage, but she passed close to him without seeming to be aware of his presence, and left the room.
Her dog was fastened up in a small summer-room that looked into the garden, because it had a fancy for quarrelling with one of Mr. Humphries' spaniels that he had brought with him.
Harriet unfastened the little sinner, and it bounded up and down like a ball. She put the plate on a ledge under the window, and began to cut the meat into small pieces. While she was thus employed, Mr. Gage came abruptly into the room, and stood before her.
"Take care of the dog," said Harriet,stooping down, and catching Donald by the collar; "he is apt to snap at strangers."
"Strangers!" exclaimed Mr. Gage, in great indignation. "This from you, Harriet! But you have deceived me—made me wretched long enough. It is well that all is at an end!"
Harriet stood up. To do her justice, she tried to look as grave as she could, though she had a great inclination to laugh.
"I did not give you credit, Sir, for knowing so much of your profession," she said, coolly; "you have learned, I see, that it is a better plan to attack than to defend."
"I—what have I to defend?" said Mr. Gage. "Can you deny that you long made me believe you were going to be married to Lord Raymond?"
"Really, Mr. Gage," said Harriet, "your remarks are very original; unexpected, at least. I believe, for a long time we have had as little confidential communication as any two persons in the world. People were at liberty to conjecture what they pleasedfrom Lord Raymond's intimacy with my family."
"People!" echoed Mr. Gage, highly offended at being thus classed with the multitude.
"Men, women and children!" said Harriet, very contentedly, and turning to the window ledge, she began to give Donald his dinner.
Mr. Gage's indignation was now at its height; but he endeavoured to veil it under an appearance of great calmness. Harriet, as cool as himself, went on mincing Donald's cold beef.
At last he said, that if it was not taxing her memory too far, he should be glad to know her motive for allowing Lord Raymond to be recognized as her lover; had she preferred Lord Raymond, he should have respected the feeling, although he should not, certainly, have thought very highly of her taste.
"As that preference has been entirely a little fancy of your own," said Harriet,with spirit; "I think it not worth while to defend my taste on an imaginary point."
"Still," said Mr. Gage, "you suffered me to remain in error on a subject which you well knew to be of great importance to my happiness."
"As I am not appointed guardian to your happiness, Mr. Gage," said Harriet, with mock civility, "I do not feel any remorse upon that point. If you chose to compliment my taste, by inventing an attachment between me and a remarkably attractive man, I will take this opportunity, if you please, of returning you my best thanks."
Mr. Gage looked still more stormy, but he seemed determined, in popular phrase, to "have his say out."
"You never were attached to Lord Raymond then?" he said.
"Never, as it happened," returned Harriet, with great indifference.
"Then why give me to understand—" Mr. Gage began.
"Stop there!" said Harriet, "don't ring the changes, my good friend, upon your misapprehension. I was not likely to tellyou, of all people, my family secrets. Lord Raymond was always on an intimate footing with me. I could not remove the confusion in his affairs, nor help his mother dying at the wrong time: and these were the only things that prevented his marriage with Lucy from taking place earlier."
"You knew when I was at Chirke Weston," said Mr. Gage, "that my feelings towards you had undergone no change, and yet you not only suffered me to be in an error, but you encouraged my belief that you were engaged to that man to the utmost of your power."
"Well," said Harriet, "I am not going to tell any lies. Perhaps, I did. I was rather amused to see you making a blunder."
"You confess it," said Mr. Gage; "and now you are acting the same part with that wretched idiot, Humphries; though you stillsee that I cannot forget you, as I wish to Heaven I could."
"Poor dear Mr. Humphries!" said Harriet, leaning against the window, and, throwing the pieces of meat slowly to her dog, "he is to be called an idiot, because I am commonly civil to my uncle's guests."
"I suppose I am not to be considered as your uncle's guest?" said Mr. Gage.
"Not when you behave so ill," returned Harriet.
"I—what have I done?" asked Mr. Gage.
"Recollect the ball, Sir!" said Harriet; "remember how you tricked me into dancing with you."
Mr. Gage smiled a little. "Allow that you brought it on yourself," said he. "Youcouldnot dance with Sir Hawarth."
"Could not?" asked Harriet. "I imagine I have every right to please myself in such things. Besides, you have been very rude to me ever since you came; and did not leave the house when I desired you."
"You know that it was impossible," saidMr. Gage; "besides, I gave you my reasons for not obeying you."
"I did not want any reasons," said Harriet.
"I believe you," said Mr. Gage; "but Miss Capel was evidently on my side then, as well as at the ball. I wish you would speak to her on the subject. I never met any woman with more delicacy of feeling."
"It is a pity you don't marry her, then, if you think so highly of her;" said Harriet, perversely.
"I did not come here to marry Miss Capel, but to marry you," replied Mr. Gage, coldly.
The deepest carmine colour flew into Harriet's face, but she still remained pelting her dog with the little pieces of meat. Mr. Gage stood waiting to hear what she would say.
"Ah! but George, do you mean it?" said Harriet, looking up archly in his face.
"Do I mean it?" asked Mr. Gage;"when I give you the power of rejecting my hand again."
This was so characteristic of the degree of estimation in which Mr. Gage held himself, that Harriet burst into a prolonged peal of laughter.
"Well, then, George," said she, holding out her hand.
"Well, then, Harriet," he replied, clasping it.
"But I tell you what," said Harriet, as she was leaving the room, "you may go and make your own story good to my Uncle Singleton, for if you think I shall take all that trouble, you will find yourself very much mistaken."
The next report current in the house was that Mr. Gage's horses were not going to Chirke Weston; and the presumption, therefore, was, that their master had determined to prolong his stay at Singleton Manor.
Prin.We are wise girls to work our lovers so,
So, portent-like, would I o'ersway his stateThat he should be my fool, and I his fate.LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
"You are not going away on Saturday," said Harriet the next morning to Margaret, who was sitting with a letter in her hand, "do not think it. I have made up my mind that you spend Christmas here."
"Rather hard upon Miss Capel," said Mr. Gage, "considering thatyouwill not be here at Christmas."
"Well, I don't know where I am likely to be, if not here," said Harriet; "I think there is some derangement in that family," she added, indicating Mr. Gage by a movement of her head:—"He is like the manin 'Nicholas Nickleby,' he insists upon marrying people, and I am his present object; it will go off, you know. Your turn will come next, Margaret, my dear."
"You are so provoking, Harriet," said Margaret, trying in vain to look grave.
"But why should you go back to this Mrs. Fitzpatrick?" said Harriet.
"Because she is so lonely, Harriet. I told you she had lost her daughter; and I have already been here a long time."
"But supposing we are both foolish enough to keep in the same mind, and marry on the 18th, I shall want you to be bridesmaid," said Harriet.
"I would, gladly," said Margaret, "but I know Mrs. Fitzpatrick really wants me; and I decide in her favour, because you are happy and well, and she is so desolate alone."
"It would give us both so much pleasure if you could stay," said Mr. Gage lowering his newspaper.
"I wonder who he includes so familiarlywith himself," said Harriet, "I think it must be Thompson; he is very intimate with his groom. Won't you stay to oblige Thompson?"
Margaret laughing, protested "that she really could not."
Mr. Gage wondered how Harriet could be so ridiculous.
"Thompson and Charlotte are forgiven for the present," said Harriet. "I wondered what made George so very lenient; it seems that he had it in view to commit a similar folly, and that reminds me I must learn to smoke again."
"Oh! do not, Harriet."
"My dear, it is in self-defence; unless, indeed, I break off the match. He lives in a barrack. I dare say his room is not half the size of my uncle's kennel: there he sits with all his intimate friends, smoking till the place is like a lime kiln; if I cannot join them, what is to become of me? Mr. Gage, have you a cigar about you? I will lose no time in learning the art again."
Mr. Gage not noticing the last part of the speech, said "he did not suppose it to be a very likely thing that he should permit his wife to live in a barrack."
"Ah!" said Harriet shaking her head, "I have a conviction, a presentiment, that I shall live in the little lime-kiln we were speaking of. Uncle Singleton always said that would be my fate. And if it was not for the bracelet-watch which George is having made for me, I assure you it weighs so heavily on my spirits, that I would never speak to him again. Just look behind the newspaper, my dear, and see if he is crying."
Mr. Gage dropped the newspaper, and laughed without restraint, but he told Harriet that "she had now effectually frightened Miss Capel from ever coming to see her, when she was settled."
"Oh! I have provided against that;" said Harriet, "I don't know at all what Mr. Gage's plans are; but for myself, I mean to go to Wardenscourt early in thesummer. Now I must have you solemnly promise, that directly I summon you, you will instantly join me there. You know Mrs. Fitzpatrick is connected with Lord Raymond, so that if she is invited, I suppose she will make no scruple of accepting; then we will really enjoy ourselves."
"I should like it very much," said Margaret.
"And you promise?"
"Yes, I do, indeed."
Margaret's approaching departure was a source of regret to every one. Harriet told her that they looked upon her as a kind of hostage for her own good behaviour, and that she had some ideas of the same kind herself. She was sure that she should do something outrageous when she was deprived of Margaret's overlooking eye. That neither she, nor Mr. Gage had at all made up their minds, and that she knew there would be a violent quarrel as soon as Margaret was out of the house.
Margaret thought, and said that if Mr. Gage meant to quarrel he would have begun already, for there was not a single means of aggravation that Harriet had left untried ever since her engagement with him.
Sometimes she affected to consider the engagement as a delusion of his own; sometimes she told Margaret that they had agreed to feign it as long as he stayed at Singleton Manor, in order to amuse him; at other times, she said, it was all very well while the fancy lasted, but that George would change his mind in a day or two, and so save her the trouble of formally breaking it off.
Mr. Gage took refuge in the newspaper from all these attacks, and did not seem to think it worth while to be ruffled. Mr. Humphries was constantly at the house during the few last days of Margaret's stay. He looked very sorrowful, but his attempts to propitiate her were confined to a variety of strange faces, and gestures, which to saythe truth, she was too much occupied to remark. None regretted her so much as Mrs. Singleton; she had been so attentive to all her wants, and so skilful in making the old lady hear, that she felt in losing Margaret that she was parting with a luxury she could ill afford to do without.
Mason shed some silent tears when she received her orders to pack up. Whether they were on her own, or her young lady's account, she did not explain. She did say while she was packing the trinket-box, that a very general notion had prevailed in the housekeeper's room, that Ixworth—Mr. Humphries' place of residence—was shortly to have a mistress; and she believed it was never supposed likely that Miss Conway would be requested to fill that situation; not, she wished to observe, that any opinion prevailed derogatory to Miss Conway's charms, as might be proved by the circumstance that Mr. Gage had made her an offer—a very difficult and very high gentleman—but she had never heard anyharm of Mr. Humphries, and no one in the whole country, she believed, could say any-thing to his disadvantage, which she thought a great thing in favour of a young gentleman with so many clear thousands a-year. That Mr. Humphries' gentleman had remarked, the night that they had all made a party to go to the play at T——, that Mr. Humphries seemed to him to be rather low; and that the butler, who was considered literary, had observed, that "the course of true love never did run smooth;" that the company had not taken the liberty to mention any names, but that she could not deny that several of the party had looked as if they knew the cause of Mr. Humphries' lowness, and of the butler's quotation.
Harriet actually cried when it came to taking leave of Margaret, and between her sobs, affected to be very angry with Mr. Gage that he did not follow her example.
Mr. Gage made a polite speech, of course, and felt it too, which is not the case, with all polite speeches.
Margaret renewed her promise of going to Wardenscourt, twice in the library, and once at the hall door, whither her warm-hearted friend followed her; and then the carriage started from the door.
"Ah! there is poor Mr. Humphries," said Mason, as they swept out of the shrubberies.
Margaret looked up, and beheld the gentleman in question, leaning on a gate with his handkerchief in his hand. There was no time for a bow, so she passed him without his having the comfort of knowing that she had seen him.
They arrived late in the evening at Mrs. Fitzpatrick's. The musical dash of the sea, and the scent of the air, warned Margaret their near approach to home.
Her friend was delighted to receive her back. She had felt her absence more than she had cared to acknowledge in her letters, for fear of interfering with the pleasure of her visit.
Each had much to tell the other, thoughof a very different kind; and Margaret had several times to repeat the fact that she came back single-hearted. So strange did it seem to Mrs. Fitzpatrick, that her faultless beauty should not have been successfully sought before this.
A slight discrepancy between Mason's and Miss Capel's account made Mrs. Fitzpatrick rather suspicious, and many weeks elapsed, before she could give up the idea that a certain Mr. Humphries was likely to make his appearance at her cottage to conclude the preliminaries already entered into, of a marriage between himself and her beautiful guest.
Meanwhile, Margaret was busy ordering a handsome, gold Châtelaine, or Equipage, for Harriet; she drew the pattern, she corresponded almost daily with the jeweller; she knew no rest until it was finished according to her wish.
It so happened that Harriet had not seen one of these useful toys. It arrived the day before her marriage, and she was delighted beyondmeasure. In a few days, Margaret received a letter thanking her a thousand times for her beautiful gift, and saying that she had deferred writing till she could inform her that she was actually married, a circumstance of which she had entertained great doubts until she found herself at the church-door, when she supposed that even Mr. Gage could not well retract. That she begged Margaret to notice that a blot on the paper was of his making; that they were going leisurely through Wales, previous to embarking for Dublin, and that it was with the sincerest regret that she found herself obliged to sign her letters "Harriet Gage."
Still the clouds gather, still must fear and doubtUnwelcome partners, page her weary footsteps,Shall not time draw these curtains?ANON.
Time sped on at the Cottage as smoothly as it had done before Margaret left it. The spring came sooner than she could have believed; the beautiful early summer followed. She was out almost all day, rambling by the sea-side, working in the garden, visiting the poor. She heard at intervals from Elizabeth, and so traced her progress through the Italian States. At length, she said that her father and herself had it in contemplation to return to England in June; and that they had been very earnestly pressed by Lord and Lady Raymond tocome at once to Wardenscourt. That her father inclined to this plan, and that for herself "all places were alike to her." This was the only intimation she gave that her loss still preyed upon her mind. "If she decided upon this plan," she added, "she hoped to have Margaret to meet her." A letter from Harriet followed this, very shortly. She stated that she had arrived at Wardenscourt three days ago, that Lady Raymond had written by the same post an invitation to Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and that both that lady and Margaret were expected at Wardenscourt in three days' time. She said that Captain Gage and his daughter were on their road home, and that Bessy counted upon meeting Margaret when she came to England.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick was well contented to go. Margaret could not refuse; her heart sank, now that the time came, when she thought that Mr. Haveloc's estate was at no great distance from Wardenscourt; and that if he were not abroad, she mightpossibly be exposed to the chance of meeting him. When Harriet talked of her visit as a distant thing, she had fancied she could have borne it very well. Of course this agreeable prospect was kept to herself, and she tried to express a good deal of pleasure at the idea of the journey. They performed it in one day; there was no hardship in early rising those fine summer mornings, and it was not six o'clock when they arrived at Wardenscourt. The grounds were spacious and highly cultivated; the house rather too new for Margaret's taste. In front, there was a white portico built in with the house, and filled with plants; on the other side, a long verandah, the floor of which was raised by a flight of steps to a level with the drawing-room windows. Lady Raymond was in this verandah among her plants, and with her, a bold-eyed woman, who stared hard at the new comers, and then flung herself out of the verandah and into the shrubberies, much as if they had been lepers. "My friend, Lady JamesDeacon;" said Lucy, after she had welcomed them, "the sweetest woman—when you know her."
Margaret thought it almost a pity she was so careful to hide the sweetness she might possess; and she thought, with a smile, of the caustic remarks that Harriet would be likely to make upon her manner.
"Harriet is out riding with Mr. Gage," said Lucy turning to Margaret, "do wait here till she comes in; she will be so delighted to see you. But for you, dear Mrs. Fitzpatrick," she said, again taking her hand, "I should recommend, do you know, an hour's complete rest, before you dress for dinner."
Mrs. Fitzpatrick thought her advice very kind and excellent, and went up to her room. Margaret remained with Lady Raymond. In a few minutes, Harriet and Mr. Gage rode up to the steps. Harriet dismounted hastily, and ran up into the verandah.
"She is looking very well, is she not?" said Lucy.
She looked brilliant, in perfect health, excited by exercise, the red and white of her fine complexion more intense; the dark hue of her chestnut hair, defining the oval contour of her forehead and cheeks. She sprang forward to greet Margaret, as warmly affectionate as ever.
"And you, ma mie—I wish I could say every thing I want at once. Lucy, love, the Sedleys were not at home; I say, George. Well, if he is not looking at the chestnut's fore foot! I never knew such a fidget about horses. George! how polite you are to Miss Capel."
"Miss Capel!" said Mr. Gage, coming up quickly into the verandah, "I am heartily glad to see you again."
His manner was so much more blunt and frank than before—he reminded her so strongly of Captain Gage, that she was quite astonished.
"Ah, how I have improved him!"said Harriet, who had been watching Margaret's countenance.
Mr. Gage laughed, and told Harriet that she had nearly lamed her chestnut, and might be satisfied with her morning's work.
Harriet took off her hat, and sat down with her back to him, saying, that what she had marred, he might mend; he was good for nothing else.
Her voice, her face, so full of happiness, contradicted her words.
Mr. Gage went out to look after the horses, which were equally beloved by both of them.
Lady Raymond, coming up to her sister, stood arranging her hair, which was slightly ruffled by her hat.
"Well, Mrs. Gage, you took your time this morning," she said; "you find Mr. Gage's company very agreeable, I conclude; since you certainly give me but little of yours. Always, I assure you, my dear Miss Capel, rambling about with Mr. Gage."
Margaret smiled at Harriet, who looked half bashful, half mischievous.
"It is very well it has turned out so tolerably," said she; "because I always tell George that you had a great hand in bringing things about."
"But you are quite happy, Harriet?"
"Yes; pretty comfortable. George really did take a house for me—a very pretty house. So that when he is obliged to leave Dublin, I shall let him go, and remain behind; for I like the society very much."
"How independently she talks," said Lucy, laughing.
"George has so many faults," pursued Harriet; "I fancy sometimes he must be jealous. If you knew the trouble I had to get any of his brother officers introduced to me. I only know two—such sweet young men! One of them plays the cornopean admirably, and the other makes the most excellent toffy."
"Might I ask what toffy is?" enquired Margaret.
"It is made, my love, by boiling treacle and sugar," replied Harriet.
"Oh, and lemon-peel!" said Lady Raymond.
"No; almonds," replied Harriet; "that was the way we made it one morning when George was gone to a steeple-chase; and when he came back he could not think what made everything so sticky. That is the only objection to the compounding of toffy. You still like Mrs. Fitzpatrick, Margaret?" she said, turning to her with much softness of expression.
"Very much! I am truly attached to her," replied Margaret.
"I am glad of it. No doubt she is a delightful person," said Harriet. "But you are not going to be an old maid. I have my wits about me; and I will take any bet that any body pleases to offer, you don't go back single. Everard Gage comes here this very day, does not he, Lucy?"
"Yes; but Everard—" said Lady Raymond.
"I know he will be as hard to rouse asa polar bear," said Harriet; "but I pique myself on doing wonders."
"But pray, Harriet, not for me," said Margaret. "Do not disturb Mr. Everard's tranquillity on my account."
"The best match decidedly about this neighbourhood is Mr. Haveloc, of Tynebrook," said Lady Raymond, laughing. "I strongly recommend him to Miss Capel's notice; and though he is at present in London, he is soon expected to return. Lord Raymond likes him extremely."
"Didn't I meet him at Chirke Weston, Margaret?" asked Harriet.
"I think you did," replied Margaret.
"Ay! you were too young then, or else it was really much neglect on your part—staying in the very house," said Harriet. "You will have it all to begin again."
This was very pleasant, certainly, to have two kind friends planning to throw Margaret and Mr. Haveloc together as much as possible.
Margaret faintly entreated that Harrietwould make no matches for her; that she preferred remaining single, and, that strange as the fancy was, she begged to be indulged in it.
"But about Mr. Haveloc," said Lady Raymond, drawing her chair close into the window. "As Mrs. Fitzpatrick is up stairs, I will tell you such a romantic story about him. You know Mrs. Fitzpatrick had a very lovely daughter. Well; Mr. Haveloc was devotedly attached to her; it was all settled—they were going to be married, when she fell into a rapid decline, and died. Raymond saw him there, and said—" Here Lady Raymond expressed Lord Raymond's sayings by lifting up her hands and eyes, and dropping them both together; "and I think that it was which made Mr. Haveloc rather religious."
"Is he religious?" asked Harriet, pulling the leaves carelessly from a geranium.
"Oh, I think so!" returned Lady Raymond, "he has been building schools on his estate; and is wild now about repairinga church—to be sure it is the family church, where all the old monuments are—the Crusaders, and even the Danish sea-king, they say. Harriet, remind me that we take Miss Capel to see the church at Tynebrook to-morrow, if it is fine. He has been laying down a tessellated pavement, and putting in stained-glass windows, and such an altar cloth! I am told there was never any-thing so beautiful; but I have not been yet, because it is a bad carriage road, except in summer."
"Well, what an odd fancy," said Harriet, winding her riding whip round her fingers. "I always thought he was a moonshiny sort of a person. I suppose he was engrossed by Miss Fitzpatrick when I saw him. You know people gave him to Bessy about that time."
"So I remember; it was the first thing almost that I heard of him," said Margaret.
"Shall we dress, pet?" asked Harriet, fondly passing her arm round Margaret'swaist; "we can come down and have a gossip before the people collect for dinner."
Margaret assented, and Harriet left the room with Lady Raymond.
Margaret stood for a few minutes leaning against the window, trying to compose herself, or to appear composed. "Shall I never be wise or womanly?" she asked herself, "shall I never bear to hear his name mentioned without such a pang as I now feel? Is this, as one sometimes reads, to embitter my whole life—this wretched mistake? It is too severe a penalty for my folly! How can I meet him calmly, if I am thus agitated by the very narrative of circumstances that I have long known, and long made up my mind to forget?"
But as thinking did not seem likely to make matters better, Margaret roused herself, and went up stairs to dress. She was quite startled to find Mrs. Fitzpatrick in her room, in her black velvet, ready for dinner.
"I am late—am I not?" said she,coming up to her chair, and taking her hand.
"Not early, my dear, but you will find time enough, you are always so rapid."
Mason set to work directly; Mrs. Fitzpatrick sat beside the toilet, talking.
At last, Margaret, who had scarcely replied, turned her head round, and said, "How long do we stay here?"
"How long, my dear? Why, we have but just arrived," said her friend with a smile.
"True," said Margaret, "there is no reason; only I do not feel very well."
"The journey, perhaps," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, kindly, "we must see what a night's rest will do for you; but do not talk of going away, for I have made up my mind that you enjoy yourself very much."
Margaret smiled sadly, and accompanied her friend into the drawing-room. It was already lighted up, and the scented air of the warm summer evening, struggled in through the closed curtains. The guests were standing and sitting in groups, talkingand laughing. Lord Raymond on the hearth-rug.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick and Margaret were presented to him, and he received them with kindness.
"You remember Miss Capel, at Chirke Weston, my dear, don't you," said Lucy.
Lord Raymond did not—but he said he did, and asked her, "if she left all her friends well in that part of the world."
Harriet came close to Lord Raymond, and whispered something in his ear, which made him laugh; and then seizing hold of Margaret, she exclaimed to some one reclining almost at full length in an easy chair: "Everard—wake up! this is Miss Capel!"
Margaret blushed crimson; the person addressed, who appeared to be in the last stage of exhaustion, forced himself into a sitting posture, smiled favourably on Margaret without speaking, stared; and sank back again.
"What a wretch he is," said Harriet, standing quite close to him while she made her remarks, "does he not look like agreat wax doll, perfectly well dressed. He ought to be tired, because he came a good many miles by railroad to-day, and as much as seven or eight more in a post-chaise from the terminus. Miss Capel has travelled farther than you to-day, Everard."
"Ah!" said the person appealed to. At that moment, he was directed to take Miss Capel to dinner, which great exertion he underwent. Harriet, on the other side, allowed him but little peace. She contrived to make the most provoking demands on his memory and his descriptive powers, neither of which were particularly vivid. She would ask how far it was from Halifax to Quebec? What the falls of Niagara looked like? How many miles an hour one could go in a sledge? All these questions were easily despatched by the words: I don't know—I can't tell—I forget. And then a slight pause, while Harriet ate her dinner; but as she ate little, and talked much, her attacks soon began again.
"I say, Everard, are the ladies pretty over in Canada?"
"Some of them."
"But now, answer me on your word of honour, have they not red noses?"
A laugh.
"How do you think George is looking?"
"Oh! very well."
"What a touching thing it was to see you two meet."
"Did you think so?"
"Margaret, just fancy two brothers who had not seen each other for three years, George comes into the room with his mouth full of something about my chestnut, and seeing Everard in the arm-chair, asleep, says: 'Ah! Everard, you there!' Upon which my friend to the right, answers: 'Eh! George how are you?' I shed tears. Two horses, I need not say, would have been more affectionate."
"I am sure I kissedyou," said Everard, anxious to defend himself.
There was a general laugh.
"Of course," said Harriet, quickly recovering from her confusion, "very properto a sister. Lord James, I shall call you to order."
Lord James, who looked as bold as his wife, which was saying a great deal for him, was stopped in the act of launching some witticism on the public, and contented himself with laughing longer and louder than any body else.
"How do you like Everard? Don't you think him very handsome?" inquired Harriet as soon as the ladies left the dining-room, "he is considered the best looking of the Gages."
Margaret smiled at Harriet's eagerness to provide for her, but begged again with genuine earnestness to be left to her fate.
Lady James Deacon came up to them, was named to Margaret, and became gracious in her manner. She showed her a new species of knitting, and on Mrs. Fitzpatrick standing by to learn it, she transferred her instructions to her with great good humour. She rallied Harriet, in the pauses, upon her handsome brother-in-law, and alluded to some other conquest, whichshe had heard Mrs. Gage had made in Dublin.
Margaret felt and looked pained; she disliked all jests upon what she could not help considering as sacred subjects; and she thought a wife's vows too important to become the object of such light discourse. She looked uneasily at Harriet, who stood laughing at all Lady James chose to say, or hint. Mrs. Gage saw this in a moment, and with her usual abruptness, she drew Margaret out upon the terrace.
"Look you, little Oracle," said she, "I am not used to do any-thing by halves; I love my husband a great deal more than he deserves; but I am not going to pull long faces every time a woman of that sort makes a jest upon me. She could not understand me if I did. She has no delicacy herself, and does not know when to give other people credit for it. So now come back, and see what you can make of Everard. Captain Gage gives them all a very liberal allowance."
Theo.To this man, my fortune,My more than purblind fortune, gave my faith,Drawn to it by as many shows of serviceAnd signs of truth, as ever false tongue uttered:Heaven pardon all.LOVE'S PILGRIMAGE.
There was no public breakfast at Wardenscourt. People took that meal in their several rooms. Margaret was just giving Mason her simple directions, when in swam Mrs. Thompson, with Mrs. Gage's compliments, and "would Miss Capel breakfast with her in the Oratory?"
Miss Capel was pleased to renew her acquaintance with Mrs. Thompson, who rustled about in a smarter silk, and finer cap then ever was seen before. She accepted the invitation, and sent the lady's-maid on to say so.
The Oratory was a little octagon room, adjoining Harriet's bed-room, which she used as a boudoir. She could not help smiling at her friend's pertinacity; for there, reclining on a sofa, was Everard Gage, while Harriet looked triumphant from behind the urn. Mr. Gage was reading the paper by the window.
"Come, Margaret, lose no time," said Harriet, with a distinct glance at Everard.
Margaret took her speech literally, glided into a chair, and drew her plate towards her. Mr. Gage came to help her.
"Everard!" said Harriet, "have you found the head we all think so like Miss Capel?"
"No," said he, looking up from the 'Book of Beauty,' which he was turning over; "there is nothing here pretty enough."
"Brava!" exclaimed Harriet; "we shall do."
"Where do you think of going to-day?" said Mr. Gage to Margaret.
She could not bring herself to mention the church at Tynebrook, but Harriet saved her the trouble.
"Lucy thought of going to see Mr. Haveloc's new church," said Harriet. "I don't know whether it is settled, because if he is out, we shall have to find the beadle, or the sexton, or somebody, to show it us. But, to be sure, we can take Everard with us, to run about and find the proper people. I wonder whenyouwill grow good enough to build churches, Everard?"
"I don't know. I must grow rich enough first," he said.
Mr. Gage did not despise Mr. Haveloc for this fancy; he only pitied him. If he had spent so much that he had not enough left to buy a proper number of horses and carriages, then it would have been something to despise. But, as he had not deprived himself of any luxuries in the prosecution of his whim, he contented himself with the softer emotion of pity.
"I suppose we shall not have you with us, George," said Harriet.
"No."
Mr. Gage confessed he saw nothing very attractive in a damp country church, full of workmen. And he happened to be engaged to go somewhere with the Deacons.
"And you, Everard?"
"No." The day was so hot, he thought he should stay at home.
Harriet looked for a moment undecided whether she should permit this act of rebellion to pass unnoticed; but seeing Margaret about to leave the room, she joined her, and they went down stairs together.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick declined being of the party to the church. She would wait till Mr. Haveloc returned from town; and then he should be her cicerone. She was not so very fond of architecture for its own sake—but Margaret was. She had no doubt the expedition would delight Margaret.
So they set off—Lady Raymond, Harriet and Margaret—through a most beautiful country, and a great many steep, uneven, narrow roads. At last, the church, low ina valley, and buried among old trees, came in sight.
"I never was so glad to see a steeple before," said Harriet. "Why it is twelve miles off! I am knocked up, and so are you, child. How pale you look!"
A low, heavy oaken gate admitted them into the church-yard. They left the carriage without, and stood looking at the building. It was a beautiful church. The pencil of Cattermole might almost weary in recording the elaborate carving of the stonework about the windows, and the deep porch. The doors were open, for the workmen were about some of the pillars and scaffolds, and tools still announced their occupation within.
The organ was pealing, and the rich sound swelled into the quiet church-yard.
"They have a blind organist here," said Lucy. "He plays admirably. Listen—Mozart's mass in C."
"Beautiful! how fine the Gloria sounds," said Harriet. "What a movement!"
"I wish the Protestant Church was musical," said Lucy, as they walked up the aisle.
"Is that you, Lady Raymond?" asked the player, coming to the front of the gallery. It was Mr. Haveloc.
Margaret's start—the mist that rushed before her eyes, were unobserved by her companions.
Lucy went on. "We were praising your playing so much, Mr. Haveloc. We thought it was your organist."
"I will come down to you," he said, and disappearing from the gallery, he joined them in the aisle.
"So, you have found your way here at last, Lady Raymond," he said as he shook hands with her. "Confess that the road was very tolerable, after all."
"Bearable," said Lucy. "Mrs. Gage and Miss Capel are behind."
He advanced to Harriet, bowed to Margaret in passing, and went on speaking to Harriet.
"And you did not come on horseback, Mrs. Gage? I thought from Lady Raymond's account, you were never out of the saddle."
"It is so very warm to-day," said Harriet, "how nice and cool the church feels. But, how very odd! What a mint of money this must have cost!"
"Aye. But one never cares what one spends upon a fancy. I am not so satisfied with the bills my gardener brings me in for plants. I dare say, now, you did not grudge what you gave for your favourite horse."
"My chestnut was a present from Uncle Singleton," said Harriet, "but it is shocking to think what he cost."
"I always think it very extravagant to spend much upon horses," said Lady Raymond, "they are such uncertain things. They fall lame, or die; or, something—"
"Not more uncertain than Blenheim spaniels," said Harriet, laughing.
"Ah! true, Lady Raymond; recollect thefifty guineas for Flora," said Mr. Haveloc.
"You certainly saved her life that day," said Lucy. "Raymond did not know what on earth to do for her, poor little love!"
"You will stand up for the cold water cure after that," said Mr. Haveloc.
"I shall, indeed," said Lady Raymond, "I sing your praises every where."
"But I am dying to see the tomb of the Danish sea-king," said Harriet. "Where is it?"
"It was in the chancel," Mr. Haveloc said. "He would show them the way."
Margaret gathered from this trifling conversation, on what an intimate footing he was at Wardenscourt. She felt sick to death. She never lifted her eyes from the pavement, and scarcely knew where she was going, nor what her companions were talking about. She was occupied with one feeling, that he must think it strange and indelicate that she was of the party, and that she wished that some one would tell him that they believed him to be in London.
But they were too much engrossed with the strange old tomb.
"This granite chest—look, Lucy! how curious!" exclaimed Harriet. "And what a sword—immense! can you lift it, Mr. Haveloc?"
He raised it a little off the lid.
"It is chained down, you see," he said, "because it was once stolen. And my ancestor had more trouble than it was worth in getting it back again."
"What time was that?" asked Lady Raymond.
"In the reign of William the Third," he replied.
"Has this tomb ever been opened?" asked Harriet.
"Yes. In my father's time."
"And what did they find within?"
"A good deal of armour, and a few bones."