The Man in Black: An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen Anne

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XLVII.

  Emily Hastings was not three hundred yards from the house when Mrs.Hazleton drove away from the house door. She had never been more thanthree hundred yards from it during that day. She had gathered noherbs, she had wandered through no fields; but, at her mother'searnest request, she had gone out to breathe the fresh air for half anhour, and had ascended through the gardens to a little terrace on thehill, where she had continued to walk up and down under the shade ofsome tall trees; had seen Mrs. Hazleton arrive, and saw her depart.The scene which the terrace commanded was very beautiful in itself,and the house below, the well-cultivated gardens, a fountain here andthere, neat hedge-rows, and trim, well-ordered fields, gave the wholean air of home comfort, and peaceful affluence, such as few countriesbut England can display.

  I have shown, or should have shown, that Emily was somewhat of animpressible character, and the brightness and the pleasant characterof the scene had its usual effect in cheering. Certainly, to any onewho had stood near her, looking over even that fair prospect, sheherself would have been the loveliest object in it. Every year hadbrought out some new beauty in her face, and without diminishing onecharm of extreme youth, had expanded her fair form into womanlyrichness. The contour of every limb was perfect: the whole in symmetrycomplete; and her movements, as she walked to and fro, upon theterrace, were all full of that easy, floating grace, which requires acombination of youth and health, and fine proportion, and a pure, highmind. If there was a defect it was that she was somewhat pale thatday; for she had not slept at all during the preceding night fromagitated feelings, and busy thoughts that would not rest. But theslight degree of languor, which watching and anxiety had given, wasnot without its own peculiar charm, and the liquid brightness of hereyes seemed but the more dazzling for the drooping of the eyelid, withits long sweeping fringe.

  There was a mixture, too, strange as it may seem to say so, of sadnessand cheerfulness, in the expression of her face that day--perhaps Ishould say an alternation of the two expressions; but the change fromthe one to the other was too rapid for distinctness; and the well offeelings from which the expressions flowed, was of very mingledwaters. The scene of death and suffering which she had latelywitnessed at the cottage, her father's wild and gloomy manner, hermother's sickness, the displeasure of one parent, however unjust, andthe opposition of another, to her dearest wishes, howeverunreasonable, naturally produced anxiety and sadness. But then again,on the other hand, Marlow's letter had cheered and comforted her much;the prospect of seeing him so speedily, rejoiced her more than she hadeven anticipated, and the certainty that a few short hours wouldremove for ever all doubts as to her conduct, her thoughts and herfeelings, from the mind of both her parents, and especially from thatof her father, gave her strength and happy confidence.

  Poor Emily! How lovely she looked as she walked along there with theever varying expressions fluttering over her face, and her richnut-brown hair, free and uncovered, floating in curls on the sportivebreath of the breeze.

  When first she came out the general tone of her feelings was sad; butthe bright hopes seemed to in vigor in the open air, and her mindfixed more and more gladly on the theme of Marlow's letter. As it didso she extracted fresh motives of comfort from it. He had given hermany details in regard to his late proceedings. He had openly andplainly spoken of the conduct of Mrs. Hazleton, and told her he couldprove the facts which he asserted. He had not even hinted at aninjunction to secrecy, and although her first impulse had been to waitfor his arrival and let him explain the whole himself, yet, as it wasnow getting late in the day, and he had not come--as the obligation tosecrecy, laid upon her by John Ayliffe, might not be removed till thefollowing morning, and her mother was evidently anxious and uneasy forwant of all explanations--Emily thought she might be fully justifiedin reading more of Marlow's letter to Lady Hastings than she hadhitherto done, and showing her that she had asserted nothing withoutreasonable cause. The sight of Mrs. Hazleton's carriage arrivingconfirmed her in this intention. She knew that fair lady to possessvery great influence over her mother's mind. She believed thatinfluence to have been always exerted balefully, and she judged itbetter, much better, to cut it short at once, rather than suffer it toendure even for another day.

  When she saw the carriage drive away, then, she returned rapidly tothe house, went to her room to get Marlow's letter, and then proceededto her mother's chamber.

  "Mrs. Hazleton has been here, my love," said Lady Hastings, as soon asEmily approached, "and really, she has been very strange anddisagreeable. She seems, not to have the slightest consideration forme; but even in my weak state, says every thing that can agitate andannoy me."

  "I trust, my dear mother, that you will see her no more," said Emily."The full proofs of what I told you concerning her. I cannot yet give;but Marlow lays me under no injunction to secrecy, and I have broughthis letter to read you the part in which he speaks of her. That willshow you quite enough to convince you that Mrs. Hazleton should neverbe permitted within these doors again."

  "Oh read it, pray read it, my dear," said Lady Hastings. "I am allanxiety to know the facts; for really one does not know how to behaveto this woman, and I feel in a very awkward position towards her."

  Emily sat down by the bedside and read, word for word, all that Marlowhad written in reference to Mrs. Hazleton, which was interspersed,here and there, with many kindly and respectful expressions towardsLady Hastings and her husband, which he knew well would be gratifyingto her whom he addressed. His statements were all clear and precise,and from them Lady Hastings learned he had obtained proof, fromvarious different sources, that her seeming friend had knowingly andwillingly supplied John Ayliffe with the means of carrying on hisfraudulent suit against Sir Philip Hastings: that she had been hiscounsel and cooperator in all his proceedings, and had suggested manyof the most criminal steps he had taken. The last passage which Emilyread was remarkable: "To see into the dark abyss of that woman'sheart, my dearest Emily," he said, "is more than I can pretend to do;but it is perfectly clear that she has been moved in all herproceedings for some years, by bitter personal hatred towards SirPhilip, Lady Hastings, and yourself. Mere self-interest--to which sheis by no means insensible on ordinary occasions--has been sacrificedto the gratification of malice, and she has even gone so far as toplace herself in a situation of considerable peril for the purpose ofruining your excellent father, and making your mother and yourselfunhappy. What offence has been committed by any of your family tomerit such persevering and ruthless hatred, I cannot tell. I only knowthat it must have been unintentional; but that it has not been theless bitterly revenged. Perhaps the disclosures which must be made assoon as I return, may give us some insight into the cause; but atpresent I can only tell you the result."

  "My dear Emily," said Lady Hastings, "your father should know thisimmediately. He has been very sad and gloomy since his return. Ireally cannot tell what is the matter with him; but something weighsupon his spirits, evidently; but this news will give him relief, or,at all events, will divert his thoughts. It was very natural, my deargirl, that you should first tell your mother, but I really think thatwe must now take him into our councils."

  "I will go and ask him to come here, at once," said Emily. "I think mydear father has not understood me rightly lately, and has chilled meby cold looks and words when I would fain have spoken to him, andpoured my whole thoughts into his bosom. Oh, I shall be glad to do anything to regain his confidence; and although I know it must beregained in a very, very short space of time, yet I would gladly doany thing to prevent its being withheld from me even a moment longer."

  She took a step towards the door as she spoke; but Lady Hastings;unhappily, called her back. "Stay, my Emily," she said. "Come hither,my dear child; I have something to say that will cheer you and comfortyou, and give you strength to meet any little crosses of your father'swith patience and resignation. He has been sorely tried, and is muchtroubled. But I was going to say, dear Emily," and she threw her armsround
her daughter's neck as she leaned over her, "that I have beenthinking much of all that was said the other day, in regard to yourmarriage with Marlow. I see that your heart is set upon it, and thatyou can only be happy in a union with him. I know him to be a good andexcellent young man; and after all that he has done to serve us, Imust not interpose your wishes any longer; although, perhaps, I mighthave chosen differently for you had the choice rested with me. I giveyou, therefore, my full and free consent, Emily, and trust you will beas happy as you deserve, my dear girl. I think you might very wellhave made a higher alliance, but----"

  "But none that would have made me half so happy," replied Emily,embracing her mother. "Oh, dear mother, if you could know the load youtake from my heart, you would be amply repaid for any sacrifice ofopinion you make to your child's happiness. I cannot conceive anysituation more painful to be placed in than a conflict between twoduties. My positive promise to Marlow, my obedience to you, are nowreconciled, and I thank you a thousand thousand times for having thusrelieved me from so terrible a struggle."

  The tears rose in her eyes as she spoke, and Lady Hastings made hersit down by her bedside, saying--"Nay, my dear child, do not sufferyourself to be so much agitated. I did not know till the other day,"she said, feeling some self-reproach at having been brought to playthe part she had acted lately, "I did not know till the other day thatyou were really so much in love, my Emily. But I have known what suchfeelings are, and can sympathize with you. Indeed I should haveyielded long ago if it had not been for the persuasions of that horridMrs. Hazleton. She always stood in the way of every thing I wanted todo, and would not even let me know the truth about your realfeelings--pretending all the time to be my friend too!"

  "She has been a friend to none of us, I fear," replied Emily, "and tome especially an enemy; although I cannot at all tell what I ever didto merit such pertinacious hatred as she seems to feel towards me."

  "Do you know, my child," said Lady Hastings, with a meaning smile, "Ihave been sometimes inclined to think that she wished to marry Marlowherself?"

  Emily started and looked aghast, and then that delicate feeling, thatsensitiveness for the dignity of woman's nature, which none, Isuspect, but woman's heart can clearly comprehend, caused her cheek toglow like a rose with shame at the very thought of a woman lovingunloved, and seeking unsought. She felt, however, at once, that theremight be--that there probably was--much truth in what her mother said,that she had touched the true point, and had discovered one at leastof the causes of Mrs. Hazleton's strange conduct. Nevertheless, sheanswered, "Oh, dear mother, I hope it is not so. Sure I am that Marlowwould never trifle with any woman's love, and I cannot think that Mrs.Hazleton would so degrade herself as even to dream of a man who neverdreamt of her; besides, she is old enough to be his mother."

  "Not quite, my child, not quite," replied Lady Hastings. "She is, Ibelieve, younger than I am; and though old enough to be your mother,Emily, I could not have been Marlow's, unless I had married at tenyears old. Besides, she is very beautiful, and she knows it, and mayhave thought that such beauty as hers, and her great wealth, mightwell make up for a small difference of years."

  "Perhaps you are right," replied Emily, thoughtfully, as many acircumstance flashed upon her memory, which had seemed, to her darkand mysterious in times past; but to which the cause suggested by hermother seemed now to afford a key. "But if it was me, only, shehated," added Emily, "why should she so persecute my father andyourself?"

  "Perhaps," replied Lady Hastings, speaking with a clear-sighted wisdomwhich she seldom evinced, "perhaps because she knew that the mostterrible blows are those which are aimed at us through those we love.Besides, one cannot tell what offence your father may have given. Heis very plain spoken, and not accustomed to deal very tenderly. NowMrs. Hazleton is not well pleased to hear plain truths, nor to bearwith patience any sharpness or abruptness of manner. Moreover, mychild, I have heard that it was old Sir John Hastings' wish, when wewere all young and free, that your father should marry Mrs. Hazleton.But he preferred another, perhaps less worthy of him in everyrespect."

  "Oh, no, no." cried Emily, with eager affection. "More worthy of him athousand times in all ways. More good--more kind--more beautiful."

  "Nay, nay, flatterer," said Lady Hastings, with a smile. "I was wellenough to look at once, Emily, and more to his taste. That is enough.My glass tells me clearly that I cannot compete with Mrs. Hazletonnow. But it is growing dark, my dear, I must have lights."

  "I will ring for them, and then go and seek my father," replied Emily.

  She rang, and the maid appeared from the anteroom, just as LadyHastings was saying that it was time to take her medicine. Emily tookup the vial and the spoon, poured out the quantity prescribed, with asteady hand, very unlike that with which Mrs. Hazleton had held thesame bottle an hour before, and having put the dose into a wine-glass,handed it to her mother.

  "Bring lights," said Lady Hastings, addressing her maid; and themoment after, she raised the glass to her lips, and drank thecontents.

  "It tastes very odd, Emily," she said, "I think it must be spoiled bythe heat of the room."

  "Indeed," said Emily. "That is very strange. The last vial kept quitewell. But Mr. Short will be here to-night, and we will make him sendsome more."

  She paused for a moment or two, and then added, "Now, shall I go for myfather?"

  "No," said Lady Hastings, somewhat faintly; "wait till the girl comesback with the lights."

  She was silent for a few moments, and then raised herself suddenly onher arm, saying in a tone of great alarm, "Emily, Emily! I feel veryill.--Good God, I feel very ill!"

  Emily sprang to her side and threw her arm round her; but the nextinstant Lady Hastings uttered a fearful scream, like the cry of asea-bird, and her head fell back upon her daughter's arm.

  Emily rang the bell violently: ran to the door and shrieked loudly foraid; for she saw too well that her mother was dying.

  The maid, several of the other servants, and Sir Philip Hastingshimself, rushed into the room. Lights were brought: Mr. Short was sentfor; but ere the servant had well passed the gates, Lady Hastings,after a few convulsive sobs, had yielded up her spirit.