will you contribute nothing to the general fund ofapprobation?" said Sir Wynston, who was gifted by nature with an amiabletalent for teasing, which he was fond of exercising in a quiet way. "Wehave all, but you, said something handsome of our absent young friend."
"I never praise anybody, Wynston; not even you," said Marston, with anobvious sneer.
"Well, well, I must comfort myself with the belief that your silencecovers a great deal of good-will, and, perhaps, a little admiration,too," answered his cousin, significantly.
"Comfort yourself in any honest way you will, my dear Wynston," retortedMarston, with a degree of asperity, which, to all but the baronethimself, was unaccountable. "You may be right, you may be wrong; on asubject so unimportant it matters very little which; you are at perfectliberty to practice delusions, if you will, upon yourself."
"By-the-bye, Mr. Marston, is not your son about to come down here?" askedDoctor Danvers, who perceived that the altercation was becoming, onMarston's part, somewhat testy, if not positively rude.
"Yes; I expect him in a few days," replied he, with a sudden gloom.
"You have not seen him, Sir Wynston?" asked the clergyman.
"I have that pleasure yet to come," said the baronet.
"A pleasure it is, I do assure you," said Doctor Danvers, heartily. "Heis a handsome lad, with the heart of a hero--a fine, frank, generous lad,and as merry as a lark."
"Yes, yes," interrupted Marston; "he is well enough, and has done prettywell at Cambridge. Doctor Danvers, take some wine."
It was strange, but yet mournfully true, that the praises which the goodDoctor Danvers thus bestowed upon his son were bitter to the soul of theunhappy Marston. They jarred upon his ear, and stung his heart; for hisconscience converted them into so many latent insults and humiliationsto himself.
"Your wine is very good, Marston. I think your clarets are many degreesbetter than any I can get," said Sir Wynston, sipping a glass of hisfavorite wine. "You country gentlemen are sad selfish dogs; and, with allyour grumbling, manage to collect the best of whatever is worth havingabout you."
"We sometimes succeed in collecting a pleasant party," retorted Marston,with ironical courtesy, "though we do not always command the means ofentertaining them quite as we would wish."
It was the habit of Doctor Danvers, without respect of persons orplaces, to propose, before taking his departure from whatever domesticparty he chanced to be thrown among for the evening, to read some versesfrom that holy Book, on which his own hopes and peace were founded, andto offer up a prayer for all to the throne of grace. Marston, althoughhe usually absented himself from such exercises, did not otherwisediscourage them; but upon the present occasion, starting from his gloomyreverie, he himself was the first to remind the clergyman of hiscustomary observance. Evil thoughts loomed upon the mind of Marston,like measureless black mists upon a cold, smooth sea. They rested, grew,and darkened there; and no heaven-sent breath came silently to stealthem away. Under this dread shadow his mind lay waiting, like the deep,before the Spirit of God moved upon its waters, passive and awful. Whyfor the first time now did religion interest him? The unseen,intangible, was even now at work within him. A dreadful power shook hisvery heart and soul. There was some strange, ghastly wrestling going onin his own immortal spirit, a struggle that made him faint, which he hadno power to determine. He looked upon the holy influence of the goodman's prayer--a prayer in which he could not join--with a dull,superstitious hope that the words, inviting better influence, thoughuttered by another, and with other objects, would, like a spell, chaseaway the foul fiend that was busy with his soul. Marston sate, lookinginto the fire, with a countenance of stern gloom, upon which the waywardlights of the flickering hearth sported fitfully; while at a distanttable Doctor Danvers sate down, and, taking his well-worn Bible from hispocket, turned over its leaves, and began, in gentle but impressivetones, to read.
Sir Wynston was much too well bred to evince the slightest disposition toaught but the most proper and profound attention. The faintest imaginablegleam of ridicule might, perhaps, have been discerned in his features,as he leaned back in his chair, and, closing his eyes, composed himselfto at least an attitude of attention. No man could submit with morecheerfulness to an inevitable bore.
In these things, then, thou hast no concern; the judgment troubles theenot; thou hast no fear of death, Sir Wynston Berkley; yet there is aheart beating near thee, the mysteries of which, could they glide out andstand before thy face, would perchance appal thee, cold, easy man of theworld. Aye, couldst thou but see with those cunning eyes of thine, buttwelve brief hours into futurity, each syllable that falls from that goodman's lips unheeded would peal through thy heart and brain like maddeningthunder. Hearken, hearken, Sir Wynston Berkley, perchance these are thefarewell words of thy better angel--the last pleadings of despised mercy!
The party broke up. Doctor Danvers took his leave, and rode homeward,down the broad avenue, between the gigantic ranks of elm that closed itin. The full moon was rising above the distant hills; the mists laylike sleeping lakes in the laps of the hollows; and the broad demesnelooked tranquil and sad under this chastened and silvery glory. Thegood old clergyman thought, as he pursued his way, that here at least,in a spot so beautiful and sequestered, the stormy passions and fellcontentions of the outer world could scarcely penetrate. Yet, in thatcalm secluded spot, and under the cold, pure light which fell soholily, what a hell was weltering and glaring!--what a spectacle wasthat moon to go down upon! As Sir Wynston was leaving the parlor forhis own room, Marston accompanied him to the hall, and said--"I shan'tplay tonight, Sir Wynston."
"Ah, ha! very particularly engaged?" suggested the baronet, with afaint, mocking smile. "Well, my dear fellow, we must endeavor to make upfor it tomorrow--eh?"
"I don't know that," said Marston, "and--in a word, there is no use, sir,in our masquerading with one another. Each knows the other; eachunderstands the other. I wish to have a word or two with you in your roomtonight, when we shan't be interrupted."
Marston spoke in a fierce and grating whisper, and his countenance, moreeven than his accents, betrayed the intensity of his bridled fury. SirWynston, however, smiled upon his cousin as if his voice had been melody,and his looks all sunshine.
"Very good, Marston, just as you please," he said; "only don't be laterthan one, as I shall be getting into bed about that hour."
"Perhaps, upon second thoughts, it is as well to defer what I have tosay," said Marston, musingly. "Tomorrow will do as well; so, perhaps, SirWynston, I may not trouble you tonight."
"Just as suits you best, my dear Marston," replied the baronet, with atranquil smile; "only don't come after the hour I have stipulated."
So saying, the baronet mounted the stairs, and made his way to hischamber. He was in excellent spirits, and in high good-humor withhimself: the object of his visit to Gray Forest had been, as he nowflattered himself, attained. He had conducted an affair requiring theprofoundest mystery in its prosecution, and the nicest tactic in itsmanagement, almost to a triumphant issue. He had perfectly masked hisdesign, and completely outwitted Marston; and to a person who piquedhimself upon his clever diplomacy, and vaunted that he had never yetsustained a defeat in any object which he had seriously proposed tohimself, such a combination of successes was for the moment quiteintoxicating.
Sir Wynston not only enjoyed his own superiority with all the vanity of aselfish nature, but he no less enjoyed, with a keen and malicious relish,the intense mortification which, he was well assured, Marston mustexperience; and all the more acutely, because of the utter impossibility,circumstanced as he was, of his taking any steps to manifest hisvexation, without compromising himself in a most unpleasant way.
Animated by these amiable feelings, Sir Wynston Berkley sate down,and wrote the following short letter, addressed to Mrs. Gray,Wynston Hall:--
"Mrs. Gray,
"On receipt of this have the sitting rooms and several bedrooms put inorder, and thoroughly aired. Prepare for my use the suit
e of three roomsover the library and drawing room; and have the two great wardrobes, andthe cabinet in the state bedroom, removed into the large dressing roomwhich opens upon the bedroom I have named. Make everything as comfortableas possible. If anything is wanted in the way of furniture, drapery,ornament, &c., you need only write to John Skelton, Esq., Spring-garden,London, stating what is required, and he will order and send them down.You must be expeditious, as I shall probably go down to Wynston, with twoor three friends, at the beginning of next month.
"WYNSTON BERKLEY
"P.S.--I have written to direct Arkins and two or three of the otherservants to go down at once. Set them all to work immediately."
He then applied himself to another letter of considerably
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