CHAPTER VII.AFTER EIGHT YEARS.
Eight years have passed since Lady Linton, with her son and daughter, her cousin William Heath, and his family, visited America; since she so nearly fell a victim to that railway disaster, and was rescued by a woman whom she had hated, whom she now hated a hundred-fold.
It is a beautiful winter morning, and in the sunny, elegantly appointed dining-room at Heathdale an interesting group of five persons is gathered around the bountifully spread breakfast table.
At one end sits Sir William Heath, a handsome, dignified gentleman a little above forty, yet hardly looking that, for the fleeting years have touched him but lightly, in spite of the great sorrow which has lain so heavily upon his heart and robbed his life and his home of its chief joys—the love and presence of a fond, true wife, the patter of little feet, and the happy laughter and merry chatter of childish voices.
Opposite him, and engaged in serving coffee, is his sister, Lady Linton, who has changed greatly during the last eight years. She has grown old and wrinkled, and her face has hardened, if that could be possible. There is a cynical expression about her thin mouth, and her eyes are cold and critical in their expression, excepting when they rest upon her children, who now sit beside her, one at her right, the other at her left hand.
Percy Linton had done credit to the promise of his youth, and is a fine young man of twenty-one, honest, noble, and thoughtful beyond his years. He is lately home from Oxford, where he achieved great honors, and is now planning to return to the neglected and impoverished estate which has father’s prodigality nearly ruined, with the intention of reclaiming it and restoring it to something of the thrift and prosperity for which it was noted under the care of his grandfather, for whom he is named, and whose mantle seems to have fallen upon him.
His mother is not at all in sympathy with these plans. She wishes her son to adopt a public career. She still has strong hopes that he will fall heir to her brother’s title and property, in which case there would be no need of his spending the best years of his life in striving to redeem a heavily-mortgaged estate.
Sir William, however, heartily approves of his noble resolve, and promises to assist him in every possible way, and, with this encouragement, he has decided to devote himself to Linton Grange.
Lillian Linton is a brilliant and beautiful girl of nineteen. She is a clear brunette, with a lovely bloom on her cheeks, vividly red lips, dark eyes and hair. Her features are delicate and regular; she is tall and finely formed, attractive in manner, but in disposition and temperament she is much like her mother.
The remaining individual of the group was Rupert Hamilton, Sir William Heath’s ward, and the child of his dear friend, Major Hamilton, who died several years ago. He is now a young man of twenty, tall and stalwart in form, with a well-shaped head set proudly upon a pair of square, broad shoulders. He has a handsome and intelligent face, with a pair of full,wine-brown eyes, which always meet yours with a clear, steady gaze, that proclaims a noble character and a clear conscience.
His nose is something after the Roman type, his mouth firm and strong, yet when he smiles, as sweet and expressive as a woman’s. One would know at a glance that he was true and generous, kind and genial.
One could perceive also that Sir William loved him like a son by the affectionate glances which he bent upon him, by his answering smile whenever their eyes met, and the confidential tone which he used when addressing him.
The young heir to half a million pounds thought his guardian the noblest man in the world, and he would have deemed no service too difficult or disagreeable to perform for him.
He knew something of the trouble of his early life, that he had been married and parted from his wife, although he had never heard her name spoken, or asked a single question upon the subject, and he had always felt a peculiar tenderness and sympathy for him on this account.
The fact of Sir William’s marriage was no longer a secret, although Lady Linton had tried every way to conceal it. It was not very generally known, however, even now; but in his own household and among his intimate friends it was understood that he had married a beautiful woman while on his first visit to America, and that some cruel misunderstanding had resulted in a separation. He had insisted upon this explanation, for hope was not yet quite dead in his heart that some time he might find Virgie, effect a reconciliation, and bring her home to Heathdale.
Those who knew that he was free to marry again,if he chose, sometimes urged him to do so and not allow his name to become extinct.
But he always replied, with a heavy sigh:
“I have a wife already, and some time, please Heaven, I shall find her. No other shall ever be mistress of Heathdale while I live.”
This reply never failed to arouse the fiercest anger in Lady Linton, who grew more bitter with every year toward the woman whom she had wronged, and who had repaid her injuries with such kindness and Christian charity to her everlasting shame and humiliation.
“‘Wife,’ indeed!” she once retorted. “A woman who divorced herself from you in the way she did, coolly severing the bonds, which you seem still to hold in such reverence, is not worthy the name.”
“But I loved her, Miriam—I love her still; I shall be true to her till I die,” her brother answered. “Our separation has been the strangest thing in the world—it is wholly incomprehensible to me; but if I ever find we have been the victims of treachery, let the enemy who has meddled beware!”
Twice during these last eight years he had crossed the Atlantic and renewed his search for Virgie, but without obtaining the least clew of her whereabouts, and so he returned again to his home.
He never intruded his sorrow upon any one; indeed his life flowed along so calmly and smoothly that a stranger might have supposed that he had remained single from choice, although there was a wistful sadness in his eyes that impressed every one.
Of late he had interested himself considerably in politics and been in Parliament, having been returned for his borough several times.
But to return to the breakfast table, from whichwe have roved, and where an animated discussion was in progress, together with the disposition of the many tempting viands.
“I am sure I do not know what I am going to do without you during the next six months, Rupert,” Sir William remarked. “Here I was anticipating having you all to myself for awhile, after you got through school, and now you want to go roving the first thing.”
“Yes, I do want to see a little of the world I live in, I confess, before I choose my profession; and you have told me so many interesting things about America, and American people, that I have a curiosity to see the country and mingle with the people myself. Why can’t you come with me, Uncle Will? then we need not be separated,” concluded the young man, wishfully.
“I should be glad to, my boy, but my time and attention will have to be given to the interests of the borough for this year,” responded his guardian. “The troubles in Ireland, too, bid fair to be pretty serious, and every true-hearted Englishman ought to give careful thought to the questions that are arising in connection with them.”
“I hope that I am a true-hearted Englishman, but since I cannot cast my vote until next year, I presume you will not consider me disloyal for running away for a little while,” Rupert said, earnestly.
“No, indeed, I want you to go, since you desire it so much, and, considering all things, this is the best time for you to go. Let me see; it is a Raymond excursion to California that you have decided to join after reaching New York, I believe.”
“Yes, the circular which Raymond has issued is soattractive I could not resist it. I feel sure that by joining this party I shall see more of the country, in less time and to better advantage, than I could to travel by myself and lay out my own route.”
“Will you be with a large party, Rupert?” Lillian asked, her color deepening and a rather anxious expression in her eyes.
Lillian Linton had learned to love Rupert Hamilton with a strong and passionate affection, and this attachment had been most unwisely fostered by her mother, who was still determined that her idolized daughter should marry her brother’s wealthy young ward, and the heir to still greater prosperity and honor, if it was possible to accomplish it.
“I do not know how large the party will be, Lillian; probably there will be quite a number in it,” he answered.
“All gentlemen?”
“Oh, no, I judge not from some hints that are given regarding the equipments necessary for the journey; for articles which only ladies require are mentioned in them.”
Lillian lost some of her brilliant color, and her eyes drooped at this reply.
“But do you like the idea of mingling so freely with strange people?” she asked, with a slight curl of her red lips. “Americans too,” she added, slightingly.
“Why, Lillian, are you so prejudiced against our neighbors over the sea?” exclaimed the young man, in surprise.
The girl shrugged her graceful shoulders and arched her pretty brows, but deigned no reply. The act, however, expressed far better than words could have doneher contempt for the people of whom they had been speaking.
Percy glanced up at her with a roguish twinkle in his eyes.
“Rupert will doubtless meet some fair damsel among his party whose bright eyes and charming smiles will prove too much for his susceptible nature, and, before we know it, our loyal Englishman will have forsworn his colors and joined the great republic,” he said, to tantalize his sister.
“Oh, Percy, how little faith you have in me,” laughed Rupert. “Of course I expect there will be some fair damsels in my party, but doubtless they will be so closely guarded by jealous parents and vigilant chaperons that no young man of my age will have an opportunity to play the agreeable to them.”
Neither of the young men observed the spasm of pain that contracted Sir William’s brow at these remarks, nor the hardening of Lady Linton’s face, as they thought of that episode in the life of the former, some eighteen years previous, while he was traveling in America.
“I trust that Rupert will not be beguiled into any discretions, no matter how attractive the ladies of his party may be; he owes it to his self-respect to choose his wife from his own countrywomen,” remarked her ladyship, with a swift glance at her daughter, whose eyes were fixed upon her plate, as if she had no interest in anything but the morsel that she was diligently reducing to mince-meat with her knife.
“Are the ladies of America more artful in that respect than those of any other nationality, Lady Linton?”asked the young man, innocently, but with a quizzical smile.
“I am happy to say that I know but very little about them, but what I do know has not served to prepossess me in their favor,” was the sharp retort of her ladyship.
“Miriam, I will trouble you for another cup of coffee,” said Sir William, quietly, but in a tone which warned his sister that she had better not pursue the conversation further on that line.
Then he turned to his nephew, with a genial smile, saying:
“I only wish Percy had not been in quite such a hurry to settle at the Grange; I would really like to have you run over to the United States with Rupert for a little holiday before you begin work.”
“Thank you, Uncle Will; but, truly, I feel that it would not be right to take either the time or the money for such a journey. My duty plainly points to the earliest possible restoration of my fallen house,” the young man answered, gravely.
“I wish that every young man possessed as conscientious a regard for duty as you do, Percy. I confess I honor you for your desire to clear the Grange of all incumbrance, though I would gladly be your banker if you would consent to accompany Rupert.”
“You have already been my banker to such an extent that I do not feel willing to draw upon you any more. I am very grateful for all your kindness, Uncle Will, but indeed my self-respect demands that I should begin to depend upon my own exertions; so I shall wed myself to the home of my ancestors until every debt is paid and the glory of the days of mygrandfather is restored,” Percy concluded, smilingly, but with a firmness which plainly told that his mind was made up regarding the course he was to pursue.
“I consider it a senseless, quixotic notion; I think you had much better sell the place and realize what you can from it, rather than spend the best of your life in trying to pay debts that other people have contracted,” said his mother, resentfully.
“Sell Linton Grange,” exclaimed the young man, aghast. “Why, mother, where is your loyalty to the home of more than a dozen generations?”
“I have suffered too much at Linton Grange to feel very much loyalty for bundles of mortgages, promissory notes, etc.,” retorted Lady Linton, a deep flush suffusing her face.
“Percy is right, Miriam, so do not try to discourage him. It would, indeed, be a pity to sacrifice such a grand old place, while there was the least hope of reclaiming it. It will, no doubt, be up-hill work for the first few years, but, with the spirit which animates him, I am sure he will succeed, and his reward will be sweet,” Sir William said, heartily, as he arose from the table. Then turning to his nephew, he continued: “I will ride over to the Grange with you in a couple of hours, and we will consider further the measures you proposed to me yesterday.”