CHAPTER XXV.
This must be a chapter of rapid action, comprising in its brief spacethe events of many months--events which might not much interest thereader in minute detail, but which produced important results to allthe persons concerned, and drew on the coming catastrophe.
The news that Mr. Marlow was about to be married to Emily, thebeautiful heiress of Sir Philip Hastings, spread far and wide over thecountry; and if joy and satisfaction reigned in the breasts of threepersons in Emily's dwelling, discontent and annoyance were felt moreand more strongly every hour by Lady Hastings. A Duke, she thought,would not have been too high a match for her daughter, with all thelarge estates she was to inherit; and the idea of her marrying asimple commoner was in itself very bitter. She was not a woman to beara disappointment gracefully; and Emily soon had the pain ofdiscovering that her engagement to Marlow was much disapproved by hermother. She consoled herself, however, by the full approval of herfather, who was somewhat more than satisfied.
Sir Philip for his part, considering his daughter's youth, requiredthat the marriage should be delayed at least two years, and, in histheoretical way, he soon built up a scheme, which was not quite sosuccessful as he could have wished. Marlow's character was, in mostrespects, one after his own heart; but as I have shown, he had thoughtfrom the first, that there were weak points in it,--or rather pointsrendered weak by faults of education and much mingling with the world.He wanted, in short, some of that firmness--may I not say hardness ofthe old Roman, which Sir Philip so peculiarly admired; and the schemenow was, to re-educate Marlow, if I may use the term, during the nexttwo years, to mould him in short after Sir Philip's own idea ofperfection. How this succeeded, or failed, we shall have occasionhereafter to show.
Tidings of Emily's engagement were communicated to Mrs. Hazleton,first by rumor, and immediately after by more certain information in aletter from Lady Hastings. I will not dwell upon the effect producedin her. I will not lift up the curtain with which she covered her ownbreast, and show all the dark and terrible war of passions within. Forthree days Mrs. Hazleton was really ill, remained shut up in her room,had the windows darkened, admitted no one but the maid and thephysician: and well for her was it, perhaps, that the bitter anguishshe endured overpowered her corporeal powers, and forced seclusionupon her. During those three days she could not have concealed herfeelings from all eyes had she been forced to mingle with society; butin her sickness she had time for thought--space to fight the battlein, and she came forth triumphant.
When she at length appeared in her own drawing-room no one could haveimagined that the illness was of the heart. She was a little palerthan before, there was a soft and pleasing languor about her carriage,but she was, to all appearance, as calm and cheerful as ever.
Nevertheless she thought it better to go to London for a short time.She did not yet dare to meet Emily Hastings. She feared _herself_.
Yet the letter of Lady Hastings was a treasure to her, for it gave herhopes of vengeance. In it the mother showed but too strongly herdislike of her daughter's choice, and Mrs. Hazleton resolved tocultivate the friendship of Lady Hastings, whom she had alwaysdespised, and to use her weakness for her own purposes.
She was destined, moreover, to have other sources of consolation, andthat more rapidly than she expected. It was shortly before her returnto the country that the trial of Tom Cutter took place; and not longafter she came back that he was executed. Many persons at the trialhad remarked the effect which some parts of the evidence had producedon Sir Philip Hastings. He was not skilful in concealing the emotionsthat he felt, and although it was sometimes difficult, from thepeculiarities of his character, to discover what was their precisenature, they always left some trace by which it might be seen that hewas greatly moved.
Information of the facts was given to Mrs. Hazleton by Shanks theattorney, and young John Ayliffe, who dwelt with pleasure upon thepain his successful artifice had inflicted; and Mrs. Hazleton was wellpleased too.
But the wound was deeper than they thought. It was like that producedby the bite of a snake--insignificant in itself, but carrying poisoninto every vein.
Could his child deceive him? Sir Philip Hastings asked himself. CouldEmily have long known this vulgar youth--gone secretly down to see himat a distant cottage--conferred with him unknown to either father ormother? It seemed monstrous to suppose such a thing; and yet whatcould he believe? She had never named John Ayliffe since her returnfrom Mrs. Hazleton's; and yet it was certain from Marlow's ownaccount, that she had seen him there. Did not that show that she wasdesirous of concealing the acquaintance from her parents?
Sir Philip had asked no questions, leaving her to speak if she thoughtfit. He was now sorry for it, and resolved to inquire; as the fact ofher having seen the young man, for whom he felt an inexpressibledislike, had been openly mentioned in a court of justice. But as herode home he began to argue on the other side of the question. The manwho had made the assertion was a notorious liar--a convicted felon.Besides, he knew him to be malicious; he had twice before thrown outinsinuations which Sir Philip believed to be baseless, and could onlybe intended to produce uneasiness. Might not these last words of hisbe traced to the same motive? He would inquire in the first place, hethought, what was the connection between the convict and John Ayliffe,and stopping on the way for that purpose, he, soon satisfied himselfthat the two were boon companions.
When he reached his own dwelling, he found Emily seated by Marlow inone of her brightest, happiest moods. There was frank candor, gracefulinnocence, bright open-hearted truth in every look and every word. Itwas impossible to doubt her; and Sir Philip cast the suspicion fromhim, but, alas! not for ever. They would return from time to time togrieve and perplex him; and he would often brood for hours over hisdaughter's character, puzzling himself more and more. Yet he would notsay a word--he blamed himself for even thinking of the matter; and hewould not show a suspicion. Yet he continued to think and to doubt,while poor unconscious Emily would have been ready, if asked, to solvethe whole mystery in a moment. She had been silent from anunwillingness to begin a painful subject herself; and though she hadyielded no assent to Mrs. Hazleton's arguments, they had made herdoubt whether she ought to mention, unquestioned, John Ayliffe'sproposal and conduct. She had made up her mind to tell all, if herfather showed the slightest desire to know any thing regarding herlate visit; but there was something in the effects which that visithad produced on her mind, which she could not explain to herself.
Why did she love Mrs. Hazleton less? Why had she lost so greatly heresteem for her? What had that lady done or said which justified sogreat a change of feeling towards her? Emily could not tell. She couldfix upon no word, no act, she could entirely blame--but yet there hadbeen a general tone in her whole demeanor which had opened the poorgirl's eyes too much. She puzzled herself sadly with her own thoughts;and probably would have fallen into more than one of her deepself-absorbed reveries, had not sweet new feelings, Marlow's frequentpresence, kept her awake to a brighter, happier world of thought.
She was indeed very happy; and, could she have seen her mother lookbrighter and smile upon her, she would have been perfectly so. Herfather's occasional moodiness she did not heed; for he often seemedgloomy merely from intense thought. Emily had got a key to such darkreveries in her own heart, and she knew well that they were no trueindications either of discontent or grief, for very often when to theeyes of others she seemed the most dull and melancholy, she wasenjoying intense delight in the activity of her own mind. She judgedher father from herself, and held not the slightest idea that anyword, deed or thought of hers had given him the slightest uneasiness.
Notwithstanding the various contending feelings and passions whichwere going on in the little circle on which our eyes are fixed, thecourse of life had gone on with tolerable smoothness as far as Emilyand Marlow were concerned, for about two months, when, one morning,Sir Philip Hastings received a letter in a hand which he did not know.It reached him at the breakfast tabl
e, and evidently affected himconsiderably with some sort of emotion. His daughters instantly caughtthe change of his countenance, but Sir Philip did not choose that anyone should know he could be moved by any thing on earth, and heinstantly repressed all agitation, quietly folded up the letter again,concluded his breakfast, and then retired to his own study.
Emily was not deceived, however. There were moments in Sir Philip'slife when he was unable to conceal altogether the strong feelings ofhis heart under the veil of stoicism--or as he would have termedit--to curb and restrain them by the power of philosophy. Emily hadseen such moments, and knew, that whatever were the emotions producedby that letter, whether of anger or grief or apprehension--her fatherwas greatly moved.
In his own study, Sir Philip Hastings seated himself, spread theletter before him, and read it over attentively. But now it did notseem to affect him in the least. He was, in fact, ashamed of thefeelings he had experienced and partly shown. "How completely," saidhe to himself, "does a false and fictitious system of society renderus the mere slaves of passion, infecting even those who tutorthemselves from early years to resist its influence. Here an insolentyoung man lays claim to my name, and my inheritance, and coollyassumes not only that he has a title to do so, but that I know it; andthis instead of producing calm contempt, makes my heart beat and myblood boil, as if I were the veriest schoolboy."
The letter was all that Sir Philip stated, but it was something more.It was a very artful epistle, drawn up by the joint shrewdness of Mr.Shanks, Mr. John Ayliffe, and Mrs. Hazleton. It concisely stated theclaims of the young man who signed it, to all the property of the lateSir John Hastings and to the baronetcy. It made no parade of proofs,but assumed that those in the writer's possession were indisputable,and also that Sir Philip Hastings was well aware that John Ayliffe washis elder brother's legitimate son. The annuity which had been boughtfor himself and his mother was broadly stated to have been thepurchase-money of her silence, negotiated by her father, who had nomeans to carry on a suit at law. As long as his mother lived, thewriter said, he had been silent out of deference to her wishes, butnow that she was dead in France, he did not feel himself bound toabide by an arrangement which deprived him at once of fortune andstation, and which had been entered into without his knowledge orconsent. He then went on to call upon Sir Philip Hastings in thecoolest terms to give up possession and acknowledge his right withoutwhat the writer called "the painful ceremony of a lawsuit;" and in twoparts of the letter allusion was made to secret information which thewriter had obtained by the kind confidence of a friend whom he wouldnot name.
It was probably intended to give point to this insinuation at an afterperiod, but if it was aimed at poor Emily, it fell harmless for thetime, as no one knew better than Sir Philip that she had never beeninformed of any thing which could affect the case in question.
Indeed, the subject of the annuity was one which he had nevermentioned to any one since the transaction had been completed manyyears before; and the name of John Ayliffe had never passed his lipstill Marlow mentioned having seen that young man at Mrs. Hazleton'shouse.
When he had read the letter, and as soon as he thought he had masteredthe last struggle of passion, he dipped the pen in the ink and wrotethe few following words:
"Sir Philip Hastings has received the letter signed John AyliffeHastings. He knows no person of that name, but has heard of a youngman of the name of John Ayliffe. If that person thinks he has any justclaim on Sir Philip Hastings, or his estate, he had better pursue itin the legal and ordinary course, as Sir Philip Hastings begs todisclaim all private communication with him."
He addressed the letter to "Mr. John Ayliffe," and sent it to thepost. This done, he rejoined Marlow and Emily, and to all appearancewas more cheerful and conversable than he had been for many a previousday. Perhaps it cost him an effort to be cheerful at all, and theeffort went a little beyond its mark. Emily was not altogethersatisfied, but Lady Hastings, when she came down, which, as usual, wasrather late in the day, remarked how gay her husband was.
Sir Philip said nothing to any one at the time regarding the contentsof the letter he had received. He consulted no lawyer even, and triedto treat the subject with contemptuous forgetfulness; but his was abrooding and tenacious mind, and he often thought of the epistle, andthe menaces it implied, against his own will. Nor could he or any oneconnected with him long remain unattentive or ignorant of the matter,for in a few weeks the first steps were taken in a suit against him,and, spreading from attorneys' offices in every direction, the news ofsuch proceedings travelled far and wide, till the great Hastings casebecame the talk of the whole country round.
In the mean time, Sir Philip's reply was very speedily shown to Mrs.Hazleton, and that lady triumphed a good deal. Sir Philip was now inthe same position with John Ayliffe, she thought, that she had been insome time before with Mr. Marlow; and already he began to show, in heropinion, a disposition to treat the case very differently in his owninstance and in hers.
There he had strongly supported private negotiation; here he rejectedit altogether; and she chose to forget that circumstances, thoughbroadly the same, were in detail very different.
"We shall see," she said to herself, "we shall see whether, when theproofs are brought forward, he will act with that rigid sense ofjustice, which he assumed here."
When the first processes had been issued, however, and common rumorjustified a knowledge of the transaction, without private information,Mrs. Hazleton set out at once to visit "poor dear Lady Hastings," andcondole with her on the probable loss of fortune. How pleasant it isto condole with friends on such occasions. What an accession ofimportance we get in our own eyes, especially if the poor people wecomfort have been a little bit above us in the world.
But Mrs. Hazleton had higher objects in view; she wanted no accessionof importance. She was quite satisfied with her own position insociety. She sought to see and prompt Lady Hastings--to sow dissensionwhere she knew there must already be trouble; and she found SirPhilip's wife just in the fit frame of mind for her purpose. SirPhilip himself and Emily had ridden out together; and though Mrs.Hazleton would willingly have found an opportunity of giving SirPhilip a sly friendly kick, and of just reminding him of his doctrinesannounced in the case between herself and Mr. Marlow, she was notsorry to have Lady Hastings alone for an hour or two. They remainedlong in conference, and I need not detail all that passed. LadyHastings poured forth all her grief and indignation at Emily'sengagement to Mr. Marlow; and Mrs. Hazleton did nothing to diminisheither. She agreed that it was a very unequal match, that Emily withher beauty and talents, and even with her mother's fortune alone,might well marry into the highest family of the land. Nay, she said,could the match be broken off, she might still take her rank among thepeeresses. She did not advise, indeed, actual resistance on the partof her friend; she feared Lady Hastings' discretion; but sheinsinuated that a mother and a wife by unwavering and constantopposition, often obtained her own way, even in very difficultcircumstances.
From that hour Mrs. Hazleton was Lady Hastings' best friend.
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