"Delightful! If I were you, Mr. Haveloc, I would make a point of being buried in it myself," said Harriet, laughing. Those persons who think little of preparingfor death, are always the most cheerful and ready in talking about it.
"I would not intrude upon him," said Mr. Haveloc. "I should be very scrupulous of usurping the last home of any man."
"Oh! you are quite a saint, I hear, Mr. Haveloc," said Harriet, gaily.
"Very good hearing," said Mr. Haveloc; "but, saint, or not, I have no idea of squeezing into this tomb along with the old Dane!"
Margaret, feeling more and more sick and faint, held by the altar rail while they were talking. His neglect of herself; his easy intimacy with the others, struck her to the heart. She had no reason to expect that he would meet her with any emotion, but still this coldness, all the keener from being perfectly unstudied, affected her more than she could have anticipated.
Now, the fact was, he had not recognised her; being extremely near-sighted, and not at all expecting to see her, he had imaginedLady Raymond had said "Miss Campbell," when she named Margaret; a young lady whom he had met at her house, but of whose person he had not a more distinct idea than of that of the Empress of China.
The first thing that started her from her reverie, was a laugh from Mr. Haveloc.
"Look at Mrs. Gage, with all those orange and green panes upon her face," he exclaimed.
Lucy laughed heartily; Harriet started on one side: "Do go back again, Harriet," she cried; "you have no idea how droll it looked."
"Thank you; take your turn, if you please," said Harriet.
"How vain she is!" cried Lucy; "do you stand there, Mr. Haveloc?"
He complied with her request; and both sisters were extremely amused by the effect produced. Any trifle would serve to set them laughing; they were always in high spirits.
"Oh! but we have not seen the altar-cloth," said Lucy, recovering herself.
It was covered with brown Holland, and Mr. Haveloc went to the rail, where Margaret was standing, to go up to the altar and take off the cover.
"Permit me," he said politely to Margaret, as he passed her.
The tears rushed to her eyes, but she bravely forced them back, and tried to still her agitation.
"Good gracious!" said Harriet, far more struck with this finery, than the exquisite architecture of the church; "where did you get this beautiful work?"
"At Bruges," he replied.
"Oh, Heavens! done by Roman Catholic fingers. How horribly wicked you are—and yet it is so exquisite, that I really—"
"What day will you dine with us, Mr. Haveloc?" said Lucy, leaning over the rail.
"Whenever you please to command me, Lady Raymond," he replied.
"Raymond would be so pleased if we brought you back with us; he thinks you still in town," said Lady Raymond.
Poor Margaret! the idea of driving back with him in the same carriage.
"I cannot make it out to-day, I have so many things to do," he said.
"You will like to come," said Harriet, "because Everard is staying with us, and you knew all the Gages, did you not?"
"Youare staying there, Mrs. Gage, is not that sufficient?"
"Oh, if I was but single," exclaimed Harriet, who never hesitated saying what was uppermost in her mind, "how I would try to catch you!"
"Why did you never do me that honour when you had it in your power, Mrs. Gage?" said Mr. Haveloc, laughing.
"Because, Mr. Haveloc, I had not then seen your altar-cloth."
"Your sister uses me very ill," said he, turning to Lady Raymond; "she would have me believe that all my merits lie in that altar-cloth."
"What did it cost, Mr. Haveloc?" said Harriet.
"Will you confess to the cost of your chestnut, if I tell you?"
"Agreed."
"Three hundred guineas."
"You don't say so!"
"And the chestnut?"
"The very sum."
"But my cloth will outlast your horse."
"Well, I allow that," said Harriet; "but it does not follow that you are the less extravagant of the two."
"You are both horridly extravagant," said Lucy, "but say when you will dine with us."
"Mr. Haveloc," said Harriet, beckoning him close to her, "another attraction, Mrs. Fitzpatrick is with us."
His agitation quite satisfied Harriet; he started, coloured, tried to speak very calmly, and turned to Lady Raymond.
"Will your ladyship allow me to say to-morrow?"
"By all means," she said, "if you cannot really come to-day."
"I wish I could," he replied.
Another confirmation for Margaret, if she had needed it. The whole chancel seemed swimming round.
She asked Harriet in a low voice if she knew how late it was.
"No, ma mie, enlighten me," said Harriet.
Margaret showed her watch.
"The fact is, you are quite tired child," said Harriet, looking attentively at her face.
"Quite—the heat—" faltered Margaret.
"Then we will go at once," said Mrs. Gage with her usual decision.
Mr. Haveloc was trying to persuade Lady Raymond to go on to Tynebrook, to see some Vandykes, and taste some particular black grapes.
Lucy was hesitating.
"No, no, no!" said Harriet, coming between them, "you will be late, I tell you; and you know that half a hundred formal people are coming to dinner. You will get into sad disgrace."
Lucy decided at once to go home, and Mr. Haveloc gave her his arm, and walked with them through the church-yard to the carriage.
"Mr. Haveloc," said Harriet, "we are going to act a French vaudeville; the parts are not all filled. Will you take one?"
"I regret that my genius does not lie that way;" he said, "what is the play?"
"'La Demoiselle á marier.' Lucy is too idle to act—her forte is in tableaux. I am going to be the mother; Lord James Deacon, the friend; the father is to be forthcoming when we want him, and as Lady James won't take the lover, which is a shame, for she has an excellent figure for it; I don't very well see how you can be off—"
"I should put you out. I have no turn for the stage; and, besides, I am not familiar with French," he said, "if it had been Italian now—"
"Oh! you speak it as well as we do, I dare say," said Lucy, "you had better take it, I think."
"We will talk it over to-morrow," said Harriet as he put her into the carriage.
"And who plays the 'Demoiselle á marier?'" he asked.
"We want to persuade Miss Campbell," said Lucy, "because she sings well, and speaks French beautifully; better, I believe than any Englishwoman ever did."
"Ah!" said Mr. Haveloc, turning with a smile to Margaret, "and are you so very difficult then to persuade?"
He was handing her into the carriage as he spoke; as she seated herself her face was directly before him, pale as a marble statue—dim—reproachful.
"Spectre-smitten!" said Harriet as the carriage swept away, "what was the matter, Margaret?"
"The—matter—" said Margaret, speaking with difficulty.
"I am sure we will not let him off acting, after that start," continued Harriet. "Hamlet is nothing to him. I wonder which of us is so very horribly ugly," she continued, laughing, "depend upon it, the man has murdered somebody in his day."
"Harriet! what horrid ideas you have," said Lucy, leaning back very comfortably, "the notion of poor Mr. Haveloc having murdered any one. Don't you think, Miss Capel, it is a beautiful church?"
"Very," said Margaret.
"She has a head-ache; don't talk to her," said Harriet, decidedly.
Lady Raymond was shocked and concerned; and offered Margaret her vinaigrette and her Eau de Cologne, and reproached herself for undertaking so long a drive in the heat.
Margaret tried to smile and thank her, and by the use of the flaçon to still the trembling of her nerves.
"Oh! I see, Margaret," said Harriet, suddenly, "he took you for Miss Campbell, and when he was putting you into the carriage he found his mistake; that made him look so èbahi; but I should not have fancied him to be such a shy person."
"Never was anybody less shy," said Lucy.
"He did look thunderstruck, to be sure," said Harriet. "Margaret, why did you not speak to him before?"
Margaret roused herself. "I believe I am shy Harriet," she said.
"Do you think him handsome, Harriet?" asked Lucy playing with the fringe of her parasol.
"Of course not," said Harriet, "he is as dark as a Moor."
"I don't think that an objection," said Lucy. "I rather like that sort of expressive face. I fancy a painter would never be tired of watching him."
"We must get him for Alphonse;" said Harriet musing, "he looks foreign; and he is graceful in his gestures. Then, if Margaret prefers Everard, what a chance for Miss Campbell. Lucy! Ah! stop the carriage! Thompson, a glass of water—there is a cottage—run—Miss Capel has fainted!"
Org.Time can neverOn the white table of unguilty faithWrite counterfeit dishonour.FORD.
"It was the heat, Harriet, indeed. Mrs. Fitzpatrick will tell you that I cannot bear hot weather," said Margaret earnestly.
"Mrs. Fitzpatrick is not in the room,ma mie," said Harriet, taking a chair just opposite to Margaret. "I certainly never knew such a heroine as you are. Going down to dinner after an obstinate fainting fit; divinely dressed, and looking like a very pale angel. Now I have said a generous thing, because I see your white dress is more prettily made than mine; but I make a great exertion and forgive you."
Margaret smiled.
"Well now, Margaret, what was it? This is the second time of asking. Beware of the third."
"I have told you, dear Harriet," said Margaret. "I was not well when I came. I felt wretchedly all yesterday, and Mrs. Fitzpatrick thought the journey had been too much for one day; she means to divide it when we go back."
"When you go back! That will not be while I am here, I can tell you," said Harriet. "Oh! I do wish Margaret that you were married. I hate single women!"
"I really cannot help that, Harriet," said Margaret.
"I told you all about my affair with George;" said Harriet with emphasis.
"True, dear Harriet, but I was not a married woman!" said Margaret, trying to rally her spirits.
"If you think I should repeat any-thing to George, you are quite mistaken," said Harriet, "he may think himself very well off if I confide to him my own affairs."
"But, indeed, dear Harriet, I have no affairs to confide;" persisted poor Margaret.
"You cannot be in love with Mr. Haveloc;" said Harriet musing, and trying to recall what happened at Chirke Weston, the only time she saw them both together.
"In love with him—no!" said Margaret drawing herself up, and speaking with energy.
"Brava! you handsome little creature;" cried Harriet catching her in her arms, and covering her with kisses, "but come, it is a dull party to-day, but we will make up for it to-morrow."
If it was a dull party, it was at least a very large one. The drawing-room was full. Lady Raymond, with jewels in her dress and hair, was standing by a vase of flowers, showing something choice to one of the guests. Lord Raymond came in quietly, spoke to the company, went up to his wife and looked at her dress, took hold of one of her ornaments, with some curiosity,and then stood on the hearth-rug until dinner was ready.
Margaret was assigned to Everard Gage, who never talked if he could help it; and she felt the luxury of repose and silence during this grand, tedious dinner.
When they were again in the drawing-room, the ladies divided into little knots according to their tastes and degrees of intimacy. Mrs. Fitzpatrick was seated in one of the windows; Margaret at a stand near her, looking over some prints; Harriet was discussing, with Miss Campbell and Lady James Deacon, the French vaudeville they meant to act.
Lady Raymond, whose feelings, though not very deep, were kindly, seated herself beside Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
"We met a very old friend of yours to-day, quite unexpectedly," she said in a low voice.
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Fitzpatrick with great interest. "Was it Mr. Haveloc? Is he at Tynebrook?"
"He is just arrived," said Lucy, "and he dines with us to-morrow. I thought you would like to know."
"Thank you; I shall be truly glad to see him;" said Mrs. Fitzpatrick with a sigh.
"I know it all," said Lucy in a sympathising tone. "Raymond told me he was engaged to my poor cousin." For Lady Raymond having adopted Mrs. Fitzpatrick to that degree of relationship, extended the kindred to her lost daughter.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick was truth itself; there was no occasion to enter into detail; but she could not avoid correcting an erroneous statement of facts.
"He is a very intimate and tried friend of mine," she said; "but he was not engaged, nor even attached to my daughter in the common sense of the word. He did not form our acquaintance until after Aveline had too clearly shown a tendency to the complaint which destroyed her. There could have been no thought of marriage between them; but being in my neighbourhood, during the latter part of her illness, he paid me suchfrequent visits, that, had there been any gossip in that solitary place, I dare say it would have ascribed such a reason for his conduct. I am sure he was like a son to me, at a time when I was deeply in need of support. And it is possible that under other circumstances, if his heart was disengaged, of which I am entirely ignorant, the regard and respect that he felt for my daughter might have ripened into a permanent attachment."
"Of course it would; it is just the same thing. How melancholy!" said Lucy, with the usual amount of pity in her voice. "And so after all, my dear Mrs. Fitzpatrick, you are to be the future mistress of Tynebrook."
"Do be reasonable, my dear Lady Raymond," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, laughing. "I have always heard it considered hazardous for ladies to think of single men as their brothers: but I never heard that the same danger existed when they looked upon them as sons."
The prints fell from Margaret's hands.She sat listening—breathless—with parted lips, and eyes fixed, to every word that Mrs. Fitzpatrick uttered.
At first she could not think; she seemed turned to stone. Her next feeling was a sense of oppression, which made her find the crowded room intolerable. She looked cautiously round, and seeing every one engaged in their own pursuits, she made her escape through one of the open windows into the shrubbery.
And all this she might have known easily before. She must often have been within a hair's breadth of knowing, when any-thing moved Mrs. Fitzpatrick to some distant allusion to her daughter.
And two years had passed, during which she had been guilty of such injustice, such baseness; for had she loved nobly, would she have believed appearances against him? She, who was so slow to believe evil of the most casual acquaintance. All her sorrow, all her agony had been nothing to this corrodingsense of shame to which she was now delivered.
When she had believed herself sinned against, she knew where to seek for alleviation; but how shield her heart from the intolerable sting of believing herself to be the one in fault? To have ruined her happiness for life through a narrowness of soul that refused to trust implicitly the heart and honour of the man she had chosen!
To her high generosity of feeling the anguish that these reflections brought with them was intolerable.
Sinking on a seat, she remained motionless—tearless; endeavouring to still by the pressure of her hands, the wild beating of her heart. And few people, after committing some deadly crime, would have felt more conscience-stricken, more self-debased, than Margaret, when she reproached herself for the ungenerous want of a romantic confidence.
How long she sat there she knew not;but she was roused by the clear voice of Harriet, among the shrubs exclaiming:
"Run, Everard! Why don't you run? How can you expect to find any one at this snail's pace?"
"I do run," was the faint reply.
Margaret, thinking it better to declare herself, called to Harriet, who was presently at her side. Everard Gage creeping slowly after.
Harriet turned to look at him.
"Come, make haste, and give Miss Capel your arm—or, no; run as fast as you can to the house, and bring out a shawl."
Everard turned, and disappeared slowly down the walk.
"Well, now, ma mie," said Harriet, sitting down beside her; "was the room too hot?"
"Yes; but it was rather the sound of so many voices that disturbed me," said Margaret.
"Well, then, little one, go to bed," said Harriet. "If you sleep soundly, youwill be well to-morrow. I can't think what is come to the child; her hands are as cold as ice."
Margaret took Harriet's arm, and returned to the house. At the portico, they met Everard Gage, who had just succeeded in finding a shawl. Harriet rallied him upon the haste he had made, attempted to push him out of her path with the points of her slender fingers, and led Margaret up the great staircase.
She helped to undress her with great care and quickness, brought her some coffee, saw her drink it, and then desired her to go to sleep.
Strange to say, she had not long been out of the room, before Margaret obeyed her directions, and fell into a profound slumber.
Yielding to the advice of Mrs. Fitzpatrick, it was late in the morning before she went down stairs.
As the day was very hot, the ladies had all agreed not to go out. The evening was the gay time at Wardenscourt; and it wasgood policy not to look fagged, when there were so many people always to dinner.
Margaret found the ladies assembled, all at their worsted work, except Harriet, who was playing with Lady James Deacon's little boy, and enticing him to do all sorts of mischief to the ladies' work-baskets.
Lady James had no objection that her darling should be amused at the expense of worsteds and floss silks, so long as he kept his hands out of her particular basket; and Harriet raced him round the room like a kitten, trailing after him half a dozen brilliant-coloured balls.
Miss Campbell, who was pretty, in spite of her red hair, and possessed all the mysterious powers of attracting the other sex, common to ladies of that hue, became an object of serious interest to Margaret.
She remembered Mr. Haveloc's smile, when he thought he was speaking to Miss Campbell; she recollected that he had not positively declined the part of Alphonse,and Miss Campbell seemed only to be uncertain about accepting Camille, until she knew definitely, who was to enact the lover.
As she reclined in a low arm-chair, displaying the most slender ancle conceivable, and a thin foot incomparably shod, with her delicate blue muslin dress, her exquisite collar, and piquante cap of blue gauze artfully commingled with lace, Margaret thought that no one could deny her the meed of remarkable elegance. True, that extreme slenderness of form was adverse to an evening toilet, the neck and arms gained considerably by being left to the imagination; but she was exceedingly clever—talked good nonsense, laughed prettily, and sang with great archness and point. She was certain of a crowd of gentlemen round the piano, whenever she went to it: and Margaret who had scarcely ever seen Mr. Haveloc in society, did not know at all the style of person he generally admired. Harriet called her a knitting pin, a javelin-woman,and every other term she could coin expressive of her distaste for that style of beauty; but Harriet was no guide in the present instance; no test of what Mr. Haveloc might like. And feeling sure that she was, by her own act, for ever divided from Mr. Haveloc, she was conscious of a feverish desire to know on whom his choice would fall.
The ladies dispersed to dress rather earlier than usual, there were three or four officers coming, and women seem aware that fine clothes are never wasted upon men in that profession.
Margaret whose dress was always simple, came down soon into the deserted drawing-room, and finding Mrs. Fitzpatrick reading at a table, she joined her, and read over her shoulder. It was the "Records of Woman." They looked as if grouped for a picture, and Harriet who was coming in at the door-way with Mr. Haveloc, who had just arrived, stopped him and bade him admire the attitude.
Margaret's face was turned from them, but her extended arm, as white and rounded as that of a statue, was passed over Mrs. Fitzpatrick's shoulder, tracing the lines with her finger. Mr. Haveloc stayed a moment, in obedience to Mrs. Gage, then came abruptly up to Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
"My dear Mrs. Fitzpatrick!"
"Mr. Haveloc—this is a pleasure!"
Margaret withdrew her hand softly, and passing behind them, went to one of the sofas and sat down beside Harriet. Mrs. Fitzpatrick and Mr. Haveloc continued in earnest conversation. Directly after he had spoken to her, he looked round as if to address Margaret, but finding her gone, and people scattered between them, for the room was now filling, he turned back again.
Margaret tried to keep up a conversation with Harriet; she took up her fan, and asked Mrs. Gage to show her some of the Spanish movements with it. Harriet, full of fun, complied. She showed her how tosay, "How are you—come, and see me," and other little sentences of the kind; but she warned her that this accomplishment did not depend solely on the dexterous handling of the fan, but required to be seconded by the expression of the lady's eye.
Lord James Deacon wished to share the lesson; but at the first trial, he endangered the ivory sticks, and Harriet took the fan from his hand. Lucy declined a trial, and Everard got to the farthest end of the room, behind the piano, because Harriet had already called to him for a footstool. Lord Raymond said gravely that he did not think the Spanish women could be much better than they should be; and that he thought these tricks with fans were as bad as sending about tulips, and cinders, and rubbish, as the women did in Turkey.
Lady Raymond laughed at him, and so did all the others. Miss Campbell was wild to learn, and Margaret surrendered her place to her; but dinner was announcedbefore the lesson could proceed. Margaret, as usual, was assigned to Everard Gage, and as usual they went on very peaceably.
Mr. Haveloc was between Miss Campbell, and Mrs. Fitzpatrick, but he appeared to devote all his attention to the latter lady. Lord James Deacon treated Margaret with his usual insolent neglect; staring hard at her when it suited him, and at other times neither addressing a word to her, nor helping her to what she wanted at table.
In the evening, Lady Raymond came up to Mr. Haveloc who was standing by Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and renewed her entreaties that he would take the part of Alphonse.
He declined, laughing—she pressed the point; she bought Lord Raymond to press the point—still he laughed it off.
Nothing he should like better than to play, if he could; but it was a weakness of his, that he could not overcome. He was too diffident to succeed on the boards.
Harriet accused him of being a Saint.
He bowed to the compliment, and saidhe saw neither reason nor precedent for saints to put on the buskin when they had no turn for wearing it.
Lady James Deacon who had secretly destined him for her friend Miss Campbell, now called on that young lady to persuade him.
Miss Campbell was sitting on a sofa making pencil alterations in a song. She looked up with her quaint expression.
"Oh, don't teaze him!" she said, "I would not. Put his name down, and send him a part-book, if you cannot get abetterAlphonse."
She gave her speeches all the point in tone and manner of a good actress. Mr. Haveloc took a seat by her side.
"Is that your advice, Miss Campbell?" he said, "they should make you stage-manager."
"Lord James is stage-manager," she replied, without raising her eyes from the sheet of music she was marking.
"Are you going to sing, Miss Campbell?" he asked.
"Oh! if I'm properly begged and prayed;" she returned, still making dots on the paper on her knee.
"How much begging and praying do you require?"
"Try," she said, suddenly raising her quaint eyes.
Every body laughed, Mr. Haveloc as much as the rest.
"Everard!" cried Harriet, making way for him, "see ifyoupossess sufficient oratory to persuade Miss Campbell."
"Do," said he, putting on his softest look. They all laughed again. Miss Campbell rose, and walked idly to the piano.
"No eloquence like the laconic," said Mr. Haveloc to Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
"So I perceive," she said smiling, "it was equal to the Spartan—If."
But Miss Campbell having tried over the embellishments with her right hand, rose from the instrument.
The officers surrounded her with variousexclamations, she paid no sort of attention to them, and resumed her seat beside Mr. Haveloc.
"What have we all done," said he, "that you disappoint us in this manner."
"Nothing at all," said she, putting the music in his hand, "but Schubert has done something, he has written this accompaniment in so many flats, that it is beyond me to read, and sing at once."
"Then let some one accompany you."
"La chose est faisible," said she, "go and canvass for me."
"What do you want," asked Lady Raymond.
"Only a player," he returned, "will you be so charitable?"
"Oh! not at sight, I wish I could. Harriet!"
No; Harriet would not volunteer, she had her own private reasons, which she would not reveal. The fact was, that she had made up her mind to forward Margaret's interest with Mr. Haveloc, and to cross Miss Campbell in her endeavours.
Lady James would not undertake Schubert, nor would Mrs. Leslie, nor any of the Miss Veseys.
"Margaret will, I am sure," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
Margaret who had been detained in conversation by one of the officers, who had heard she had a good fortune, rose, and proffered her services. The officer, knowing he must undergo a certain amount of trouble if he hoped to get her money, led her to the piano, and arranged the music. Margaret took her place with the pleasing consciousness that Mr. Haveloc was about a yard behind her, listening with eager delight to the singer. It was well worth listening to, never was a clearer, or sweeter voice, and her German was perfect. Even Everard said, "He never had—" which was rather a long sentence for him, and all united in begging for something else.
Miss Campbell allowed herself to be persuaded, and selected one of Vestris's ballads.
"You will not want me for that, I think," said Margaret, looking up to Miss Campbell.
"No, thank you very much, how beautifully you play," said Miss Campbell, making way for her.
Some one moved a chair out of her path, it was Mr. Haveloc. She bowed, glided quietly across the room, and sank into a chair, heart-sick. Mr. Haveloc, who had followed her, leaned against a table by her side. She felt so humbled now that she knew the real motives of his conduct, that she did not venture to lift up her eyes, but sat with her hands clasped listlessly in her lap, trying to feel calm and composed. He remained silent for a few moments, finding it as difficult as she did, to be calm.
"I did not know you, yesterday, Miss Capel," he said at last, "at least, not till I had put you in the carriage. I am very near-sighted."
To tell her so! This was, indeed, proclaiming that he had forgotten all their former intimacy. She looked up, trying tospeak. There was a pause. He stood playing with his eye-glass; he seemed to have something else to say, and Margaret only hoped he would make haste, for she felt as if she could not bear up much longer. At last he said in a very low tone:
"We can never be entire strangers to each other; we have one memory between us—the memory of your uncle."
Margaret tried to reply in vain. She was trembling so much, that she feared she should fall from her chair. Mrs. Fitzpatrick came up to her at the moment.
"Come, my child," she said, "I must send you to bed early until you are quite strong again. Good night."
Margaret rose, gave a bow in passing to Mr. Haveloc, without daring to raise her eyes, and made her way through the officers who were standing round Harriet. Mrs. Gage relating to them the history of the altar-cloth, and the officers laughing almost into convulsions, and declaring that Mrs. Gage and the altar-cloth would certainly be the death of all of them.
Mary.Why thinks King Henry's son that Margaret's loveHangs in the uncertain balance of proud time?That death shall make a discord of our thoughts?GREENE.
Faithe is the first, and principally to tell,And verie love requirith soche credence,That eche beleve othir true as the gospel,In true menyng and trustie confidence.THE X COMMANDMENTS OF LOVE.
Margaret had promised to breakfast with Harriet every day in the Oratory. When she went in the next morning, the room was vacant; the table spread, the urn steaming, the tea made, and newspapers laid ready. She took up one and seated herself to wait. Presently she heard voices in the passage which divided the Oratoryfrom Harriet's room. The speakers were Harriet and Everard Gage.
"Why do you interfere with me?" said Everard, in a tone that would have been cross but for the exertion.
"Because you are a slug," was Harriet's flattering reply, "I gave you every chance for two days, and now I will take her away from you. You shall not have her."
"A man can't make an offer in two days," said Everard.
"No, but he can make himself agreeable in half a day, instead of that you have behaved like a stupid wax doll; and so I have settled to give Miss Capel to some one else. And you can't help yourself!" said Harriet in a tone of exultation that it was very difficult to bear temperately.
"I like that," said Everard, "I shall ask George if it is right for you to make matches."
A peal of laughter from Harriet, that threatened to be interminable—in the midst of which George Gage, coming through thepassage on his way to the Oratory, was stopped by the disputants—and then ensued a great deal of laughing from himself and Harriet, mixed with a low, complaining noise from Everard, which soon sank into silence. Margaret not caring to be found there, escaped to her own room, and when she was summoned by Mrs. Thompson, she found all three seated peaceably at the table. Everard sat next her, and after handing her all she wanted, took a moss rose-bud from his coat, and presented it to her. Margaret thanked him, and laid it by her plate. Harriet snatched it up and put it in her own dress. Mr. Gage tried to look serious, and Everard did not seem to know how to take it. But he made no more attempts at conciliating Margaret during breakfast. It was hard work at the best, but when there was another person counteracting all you did, it was too gigantic an adventure.
"I will tell you some news, ma mie," said Harriet, "Bessy and Uncle Gage will be here next week. Mr. Haveloc stays forthe pigeon shooting, the day after to-morrow; and Everard says he will read the part of Alphonse at our rehearsals. And the play is to come off on Monday."
"Haveloc will stay for the play, I suppose," said Mr. Gage.
"Oh, true!" said Harriet, "Lucy settled that with him, the last thing. But he will not act—so provoking; I shall have to teach Everard, at last."
"I cannot learn all that by heart," said Everard.
"Oh, yes, you will to please me!" said Harriet, "you will be so much admired. Think how well you will look, so like a dear wax-work!"
"Then you must do something for me in return," said Everard.
"Oh! that is Jewish; but I will do several things, if you are quite perfect."
"You know what I mean," said Everard.
"Yes, I know all about it," said Harriet, "there, take my part-book, go down intothe library, and have all that scene perfect before I come."
"Well, but where are you going? I could sit here, and you read it out to me, I should learn it faster that way."
"Take him away, George, do!" cried Harriet stamping her foot.
The brothers disappeared together, and Harriet remained leaning against the window, making some mental calculations, which she seemed counting on her fingers.
"Yes," she said to herself, at last, "I will amuse Everard with Miss Campbell, and then Margaret—"
Margaret started in fear.
"Margaret!" said Harriet, "I have resolved that you shall be mistress of Tynebrook."
Margaret burst into one of her rare passions of tears. Harriet was frightened, and distressed, and still more puzzled.
"I do declare, little one, I cannot make you out," said she, as soon as she had caressed Margaret into something like calmness again; "first you faint, and then you cry, and all for some mysterious reason I cannot fathom. If I do find out your secret, I will have no mercy on you."
"But listen Harriet," said Margaret, "I am so vexed when you plan such things; and not being well, everything agitates me."
"Well I won't teaze the little beauty," said Harriet; "let us go down and find something to amuse you. But Margaret," said she, hanging on the threshold, "remember I have had the disorder, and am familiar with the symptoms."
Lord James was in the library acting with Miss Campbell, Lucy holding the book. The father was to ride over in the course of the morning; he was the officer who had shown some disposition for Margaret's money the evening before. Mrs. Fitzpatrick and Mr. Haveloc were walking in the shrubberies. Margaret took out her netting, and sat down in the shade, out of every one's way. Harriet threw herself onthe scene, made Lucy read the part of M. Dumenil, until the officer should appear, and commanded the play to begin again. Everard was forced forward, and laughed at by Harriet, who called him a wax-work, and offered him a letter of introduction to Mme. Tussaud, and then praised him into good humour again; and recommended him to Miss Campbell for instruction, which that young lady willingly undertook. The officer came in, and had no time to molest Margaret, for he was seized upon by Harriet, and had his part-book snatched from him, and marked full of stage directions, and was turned on among the tables and chairs, to blunder through his rôle, before he had time to look round, or discover who was in the room.
Harriet's acting was inimitable, like every thing she undertook. The officer was not very bad; Lord James pretty well, and Miss Campbell full of an arch simplicity, that showed her as accomplished on, as she was off the stage. In the midst of it all,Mrs. Fitzpatrick and Mr. Haveloc entered with Lord Raymond.
His Lordship was delighted at the amusement provided for him so unexpectedly. He signed his companions to chairs, and sat down and clapped with great vigour. Then down came Lady James, who took a chair next to Mr. Haveloc, and began to abuse him on his want of gallantry in declining the part of Alphonse. She believed he was the only man who would refuse an opportunity of playing with her friend Miss Campbell.
Mr. Haveloc said that he was selfish enough to wish to enjoy Miss Campbell's excellent acting thoroughly, which he could not have done, had he played with her.
Lady James was appeased by this answer, which, did not, however, sound quite sincere to Margaret's ear, proceeded to give him a catalogue of all her young friend's merits, which lasted, so numerous were they, until the play had been read through. Then the actors dispersed, the officer to the back ofMargaret's chair, Everard to the nearest sofa, Lord James to Lady Raymond, and Harriet to Mr. Haveloc. Yes, just as Lady James had called Miss Campbell to her, and assigned the seat next that gentleman, Harriet beckoned him to the window, and swept him out upon the lawn.
"I say, do you know the name of this red thing," said she, pointing to a flower in one of the beds.
"No, I don't. I have it, but I have forgotten the name," he said.
"How long have you been at Tynebrook?"
"About two months."
"What! have you done all that to the church in two months?"
"Every bit of it. I was in Norway three months ago."
"Ah! You are a great traveller, I believe."
"I have done little else for the last two years."
"Well, that is a very pleasant way of passing time."
"I don't know that it is quite right," said Mr. Haveloc. "One leaves all one's duties behind in travelling; that is one of its great attractions." Then feeling that his companion was not very likely to sympathize with him, he changed the subject.
"I saw your chestnut this morning, Mrs. Gage. He is superb. I hardly know such a beautiful head."
"Has he not? And so tame. Did George go with you?"
"He did, and the chestnut held a very rational conversation with him?"
"You admire him, as much as I did your altar-cloth."
"I do, indeed."
"I think you must have got it on purpose for your wedding, Mr. Havleoc," said Harriet.
"I am afraid it will not serve that turn," he replied; "for there is no lady in my parishabove the condition of a small farmer's daughter. Tynebrook is a wilderness."
"Ah, true! the lady must be married in her own parish," said Harriet, narrowly regarding his countenance.
"That is the etiquette, I believe," he said, gravely; and as she did not speak again directly, he turned quietly and courteously away, and walked to the library.
As soon as Harriet made the move, most of the party strolled away under the trees. The officer, who was unusually disagreeable in Margaret's eyes, asked her if she would not follow their example, and offered his arm, as if to decide her choice.
Margaret thanked him, but said she preferred sitting quiet, as the day was hot; and she was in a hurry to finish her netting.
The officer said she was very prudent, and taking a chair, offered to read to her.
Margaret's vexation knew no bounds, but she was not aware that the man wanted her money, and she thought he really meant it as a civility, so she composed herself tolisten. But after a few sentences, horribly read, her impatience could not be controlled. She rose, muttered something about wanting more silk, and went to her room to be quiet.
Mr. Haveloc came in the moment after, found Everard asleep on a sofa, and the officer, still seated with the book in his hand, wondering how any girl could go away while he was sitting by her.
Margaret did not leave her room till dinner time. Harriet paid her a visit when she thought it proper. She should have some luncheon, with sandwiches, and a plate of delicious ice.
Margaret was thankful for the ice, and gratified by Harriet's kindness. Her friend told her that Miss Campbell was gone into the paddock to see Lord James shoot pigeons, to practice for the match; and that Mr. Haveloc, when it came to the point, declared he could not shoot, and was sitting with Lucy, nursing Flora. But though she told this as carelessly as any other piece of news,she saw by the warm colour that rushed into Margaret's face, that she had set her mind at rest for the present.
"Well, Miss Capel," said Mason, as she put the finishing touch to her hair, "you do look splendid to-day, ma'am;" and Mason pushed down the cheval-glass, that her young lady might take a survey of herself.
"Yes, I am a little flushed by the heat," said Margaret, looking carelessly over her shoulder into the glass; "put a white rose in my hair."
Mason obeyed. Margaret lingered about the room until she thought dinner was on the point of being announced, and then went quietly into the drawing-room, and sat down out of the way, as she hoped. But Harriet's quick eye detected her in a moment. Leaving her fan in Mr. Haveloc's hands, she crossed over to her directly.
"Child! what have you done to make yourself so beautiful," she asked. "You are all steeped in lilies and roses."
"I have recovered my journey by this time," said Margaret, smiling; "that is all."
"I am playing a game against Lady James," said Harriet. "It has been my amusement all day long to cross her. She is trying to get Mr. Haveloc for Miss Campbell. You will see how I manage. I want him for myself."
"For yourself, Harriet?"
"Yes, to flirt with. Now look!"
Dinner was announced. Lady James glanced at Miss Campbell, who was seated by her, and then at Mr. Haveloc, who was standing before her talking.
"My fan, please, Mr. Haveloc!" cried Harriet from the other side of the room.
He had laid it down on one of the tables, and started off to find it. While he was searching about, with his glass at his eye, Harriet came up to him.
"Why, there it is. Good gracious! Come, we shall be late;" said she seizing the fan, and taking his arm, she sailedpast the discomforted Miss Campbell and Lady James.
Margaret was next to Mr. Gage at dinner, and he entertained her with an account of the morning's shooting.
He said he was quite sorry for Mr. Haveloc; actually, he had confessed he could not see a pigeon five yards off—so unusual! Mr. Gage had strongly recommended him to have a glass fixed on his gun, but he had remarked that "le jeu ne valait pas la chandelle." Mr. Gage considered it a real affliction to be deprived of almost every rational means of amusement. Pigeon shooting was only one branch of the rational pursuits, there was shooting in general. He scarcely knew, indeed, how a man could hunt if he did not see a few feet in front of his horse's head. And yet Haveloc was a fair shot with a pistol. But then Miss Capel would recollect that in pistol shooting, the mark was stationary.
Miss Capel gave due attention to these items of discourse, and then Mr. Gage went on.
Really Haveloc was a very good fellow. He did not think him so religious as people made out. He had persuaded them to go to Tynebrook for trout fishing to-morrow. They were to dine there late, and return the next morning—a late dinner even in these days—ten o'clock—that was Raymond's idea. He said anglers lost the best part of the day when they left off before the cool of the evening. He remembered having himself caught the finest trout he ever saw, one evening about nine o'clock. He always regretted he had not that fish weighed.
Margaret acceded to these remarks with a proper degree of interest. She felt better, stronger than she had done before, more able to be amused with what passed around her. The fact was, she said to herself, that now her meeting with Mr. Haveloc was over—she had been in dread of it; and though in the same house, they hardly saw or spoke to each other, therefore there was nothing more to fear or hope—no suspense left.
Harriet meanwhile was keeping up alively conversation with Mr. Haveloc, at last she said:
"Are you one of Miss Capel's admirers? Every one here thinks her very beautiful."
"Very much so," replied Mr. Haveloc, without looking towards Margaret.
"You knew her uncle very well. I suppose you must have seen a good deal of her at Ashdale?"
"I did. She was very young then."
"Do you find her much altered?"
"A little—a very little."
Come! thought Harriet, whose keen ear discovered a slight faultering in his carefully guarded tone. It is mutual whatever it is. That is just what I wanted to discover. Whether or not this discovery tended to put her into good spirits, she was unusually brilliant that evening at the rehearsal. Everybody seemed animated by her.
Miss Campbell tried to play up to her, as the actors call it. The officer repeated his assurance that she had a great geniusfor the stage, and even Everard read his part a little as if he meant it.
Margaret was sitting by Mrs. Fitzpatrick, holding Harriet's part-book, when Mr. Haveloc and Mr. Gage came in together. Mr. Haveloc came to Mrs. Fitzpatrick's chair, and Mr. Gage to Margaret's.
"You have not been prevailed upon to lend your aid, Miss Capel," said Mr. Gage.
"No," said Margaret, "happily I was not wanted."
"I could not fancy Margaret acting," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
"Nor I!" said Mr. Haveloc, suddenly.
Margaret blushed, and kept her eyes fixed on the book without distinguishing a word.
"Where am I, Margaret?" asked Harriet. "What do I say next?"
Margaret had lost the place, and now her fingers trembled so much, she could not find it. Mrs. Fitzpatrick laughed at her.
Mr. Gage took the book, and gave Harrietthe cue. At last the actors came to a conclusion. They dispersed about the room. Harriet and Miss Campbell were drinking coffee, and declaring themselves parched with thirst.
The officer brought himself and his coffee cup to Margaret's chair, "and hoped she had been amused, and trusted he should presently hear her sing; and begged that she would not laugh at him when he acted on Monday."
Those who knew her well, could have detected beneath the passive civility of her manner, that she was very little disposed to laugh at him, for there was something in the texture of her mind that made common people exceedingly repulsive to her, and a coarser piece of Dowlas than this officer seldom issued, even out of a barrack.
The chords of the harp were now heard from the adjoining drawing-room. Miss Campbell was performing a fantasia. Harriet came into the library snapping her fan, and looking discomposed.
"She is a fixture," said Mrs. Gage, pointing with her fan in the direction of the sounds; "it is so vexatious, for I had set my mind on Margaret singing the scene from 'Der Freischutz.'"
Lucy, to whom this speech was addressed, laughed; and Margaret, escaping from the officer, joined them, and learned the cause of offence.
"My dear Harriet," said Margaret, "I will sing to you at any time. Do forgive, Miss Campbell."
"I will not, she does it on purpose, it is managed between her and Lady James, to keep you from the piano. How I detest red hair!"
Margaret laughed: "Do not detest it in the present instance, while it is connected with so charming a voice. If I had been quite—well—last night, how I should have enjoyed that romance of Schubert's."
There was something in her voice, her slight hesitation, that was very touching. Harriet caught her hands in hers.
"Is she not, Lucy?"
"That she is, indeed," said Lady Raymond, affectionately.
"Is—what?" said Margaret, looking frightened.
"Is a very dear little creature," said Harriet, turning away.
"I think you have quite made a conquest of Captain Smithson," said Lucy, smiling.
Margaret shuddered.
"Oh! you shall not have him, if you don't wish it," said Lady Raymond; "come and sit by me, until Miss Campbell has done singing. Is that you, Mr. Haveloc? Tell us something to amuse us. Is it true that there is a ghost at Tynebrook?"
Mr. Haveloc started, drew a chair near Lady Raymond's, and sat down:—"A decided ghost, and no end of mysterious sounds and footsteps."
"Indeed! I hope Raymond will hear some to-morrow night. Ah!"
Lady Raymond uttered such a scream,that every one hurried into the library, Lord Raymond among them. She had seen a flash of lightning.
"Nonsense," said Lord Raymond.
"All fancy," said Harriet.
"Talking of ghosts," said Mr. Haveloc.
"No one else saw it," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
While they were all speaking, and persuading Lucy that it was impossible, such a crash of thunder burst over the house, as convinced them that her statement was correct. Flash followed flash, and peal rolled hoarsely after peal. Lucy and Harriet were both very much afraid of thunder, it ran in the family. They sat white and trembling, Lucy holding Lord Raymond's hand, and Harriet keeping Mr. Gage standing close to her.
Now Lady Raymond was in an interesting state of health, and all the matrons of the party surrounded her, and urged her to take some sal volatile, and go to bed. Lucy consented to the sal volatile, but she wouldnot hear of going to bed—impossible! she never could sleep during a thunder-storm.
And it was rather unfortunate that she not only refused to go to bed herself, but would not allow any one else to do so; all the guests must sit round, and bear her company. She suffered herself to be laid upon a sofa, and Lord Raymond was to sit by her side, and hold her hand. She would not ever hear of the officer going home. She said it would be tempting Providence; and was quite miserable till he seated himself in an arm-chair among the others, thinking of the day of Judgment, and wishing he could drown the thought in brandy and cigars.
It was a dreadful storm; there were no pauses between the rapid explosions, the intolerable glare of the lightning. Even Mrs. Fitzpatrick sat with white lips. Harriet was crying on Mr. Gage's shoulder; Everard, tired of sitting up, was snoring in an arm-chair. Margaret looked round, wondering at the terror they all seemed tofeel. They must beveryhappy she thought to feel such fear at the remote danger which attends such a scene.
She looked involuntarily for Mr. Haveloc, he was not in the room. Still the storm did not abate. George Gage, who had been supporting Harriet for an hour without repining, now looked at his watch.
"Twelve o'clock! I say Harriet, would you mind Everard looking after you, while I went to smoke a cigar?"
"Oh! hear him—how profane he is!" sobbed Harriet, "to talk of smoking, with that—oh, gracious! that dreadful noise going on!"
"Well, I will not if you have any dislike—"
"By Jove, I must be off now," said Captain Smithson rising.
"No! for Heaven's sake don't be imprudent, Captain Smithson," cried Lucy, looking up, "you will be killed."
"And if you are," said Harriet, dryingher eyes, "it will never do; for we shall not be able to find another 'father,' by Monday."
"No, no, come with me Smithson," said Mr. Gage. "There Harriet. I am sure you don't mind it now, only look at Miss Capel."
But not an inch would Harriet let him stir. Captain Smithson longing for something to drink, made a sign to Mr. Gage, and slipped out. Margaret did not like the idea of waiting there till morning. She remembered that the conservatory commanded a very extensive view that reached to the sea; and she thought how grand that rich expanse of country would look, when summoned into life by each vivid flash of lightning.
Miss Campbell well knowing that the sickly fairness of her complexion would not stand late hours, had managed to steal off to bed. Margaret thought she should be able to follow her example—she moved gently to the door, and as no voice wasraised in disapproval of her attempt, she hurried through the empty drawing-room, gained the hall, ran across, and into the large conservatory. As the house stood upon high ground, nearly twenty miles of country were visible between the windows and the sea. On one side a steep hill rose clothed with trees, so as almost to shut out the sky, and swept abruptly down to the level ground, where copse and thicket, and fertile meadows succeeded each other in many tinted chequer work, mingled with hamlets and solitary church spires. All was dark as night—a lamp hung over the door which led to the conservatory, but this did not serve to light more than a few yards of the marble pathway, which led between the orange trees. Margaret walked to the end of the path, and waited for a flash. It came, and for a single moment every tree and every roof in the wide land-scape was seen bathed in light beneath the angry sky—the silver strip of sea on the horizon glancing like a mirror, beneath theblack clouds. It was a grand spectacle, as the keen lightning was seen ripping up the dark masses, or dropping like a quivering dart into the thick tree tops. And the sudden darkness, and the solemn thunder rolling fainter and more faint, seemed to complete the magnificence of the hour.
At length, the interval between the peals became longer, and Margaret who had been conscious of no fatigue while watching the storm, began to feel sleepy and exhausted. After waiting some minutes, during which, such was the stillness, she could hear her own pulse, she turned away, and saying half to herself, "It is over, now;" she moved slowly down the path.
All at once a sharp light blazed across her eyes—a peal that deafened her—a crash—a sound as of musquetry just over head—a quick shower of hail and broken glass together, rattling upon the marble pavement. She raised her arms, as if to save herself, when she was suddenly seized, and whirled out into the hall so quickly, that she lost her breath, almost her senses.
"Are you hurt?"
Margaret looked up at her questioner. The rattling noise of the breaking glass—the tremendous sound above, that seemed to rock the walls of the house, so sudden, so bewildering, frightened away her voice. She looked round in complete amaze. She was sitting on one of the hall chairs, and Mr. Haveloc supporting her, kneeling by her side.
"Are you not hurt?" he asked again.
She passed her hand over her eyes, and gazed around, still confused. "No," said she, "what was it?"
"The hail came suddenly," he said.
"Yes, it did—but—were you there?" she asked.
"I was."
"The storm was—very—beautiful," said she losing her voice in tears before the words were ended.
"I was not watching the storm," he replied.
Overcome by agitation and fright, her nerves thoroughly unstrung by the feelingsof the few preceding days, she covered her face with her hands, and gave way to her tears. There was a silence, only broken by her heavy sobs. The thunder had ceased,—the hail was over, only the large fast drops of rain fell splashing among the stiff orange leaves.
"Margaret," he said, "tell me now. What have I done?"
"Nothing—nothing!" she faltered through her tears.
"Then it was for no fault of mine; the change was in yourself," said he suddenly. "You had seen—you had loved; and it has been your turn to suffer."
"I have suffered, Claude," said Margaret withdrawing her hands from her face.
Her voice, her aspect, so inimitably tender and mournful, struck him to the heart.
She had gained courage and composure, and went on.
"And it is a comfort to me to have seen and spoken with you once again," said she;"because having done you an injustice, in my thoughts, I am glad to tell you so. I am pleased to think that you acted as I should have most desired, had I known the facts which were so cruelly perverted to me. But still—I hope," she added, as she rose to go, "that as I must remain here for the present, you will not often come to the house, because the sight of you reminds me too forcibly of those old times."
How exquisitely graceful she looked; with that imploring attitude—that bashful entreaty in her gesture.
"But, I don't understand—" he said, detaining her.
"No—it is a long story," said Margaret sadly.
"But why not tell it me? Have I not a right to know it? I, who love you better than any-thing in the world?"
Her smiles came back—her blushes.
"If you wish it," she said, "only not now. Still I must say for myself, that every one believed as I did. Even your friendshere, entirely thought so till Mrs. Fitzpatrick set them right."
"But—believed what?"
"That you were engaged to Miss Fitzpatrick."
"What—engaged—and when? Good Heavens! And you, Margaret—to Miss Fitzpatrick! How could you believe such an incredible lie?"
"Don't ask me, Claude," said Margaret, feeling as if it really had been too bad in her to credit her own eyesight, as well as the assurance of every one she came near.
"And this is what has parted us for two years. Miss Fitzpatrick—but it is all clear now. You are satisfied—you are mine again—say so."
"You are a tyrant, Claude."
"But say it."
"I do say it—there, some one is coming. I must go."
Margaret flew up stairs. The ladies, satisfied that the storm was over, now cameout, pale with fear and watching. Harriet's keen eye espied Mr. Haveloc leaning against the door of the conservatory.
"Marius among the ruins of Carthage," said she with a laugh.
"Marius! Mrs. Gage, can you say nothing better for me than that? Will you come to-morrow and fish with us?"
"Well; that is not a bad idea. I can throw a fly in a way that will make you jealous. Can you lend me a fishing-rod?"
"Twenty."
"And you don't mean to set out at an uncouth hour to-morrow?"
"Not at all—two or three o'clock."
"But I shall be jealous," said Lucy. "Do you not ask me to come too?"
"By all means; bring all the ladies who like angling. Lady James, will you answer for Miss Campbell?"
"I shall bring Margaret, I know;" said Harriet quickly.
"Do—if Miss Capel will come;" said he with a peculiar smile.
"I shall ask no questions;" said Harriet coolly. "I shall pack her up in a band-box, and take her; though she cannot angle like some people!"
"No; she cannot angle," said Mr. Haveloc; laughing at the angry expression in Harriet's face.
"Ah! you think yourselves, too deep for me;" said Harriet turning and walking up-stairs; "but I would have you look sharp; for I know the symptoms."