CHAPTER XVI.
We stood for a moment, examining each other. She was fattening nicelyon what she called "holy converse and spiritual outpourings atCheltenham." She rushed forward with great enthusiasm.
"Why, Clara, darling, is it possible? Can this be you--so grown, andimproved in every way? I never should have known you, I do declare!Why, you have quite a brilliant colour, and your eyes, and your hair--ohdear, how proud your sweet mother would have been! You lovely creature,I must have a kiss! What, not even your pretty hand?"
"No, Mrs. Daldy; never more my hand to a person who dared to insult myfather. Me you might have insulted a thousand times, and I would haveforgiven you."
"Come now, let bygones be bygones, that's a dear. Oh for a little moreof the essence of Christianity! Let us stoop to the hem of the garmentof the meek and lowly"--I will not write the sacred name she used--"letus poor grovelling fellow-sinners--"
"Don't couple me with yourself, I beg." I was losing my temper, and shesaw her advantage.
"Not even as a sinner, dear? I thought in my humility that we all weresinners."
"So we are; but not all hypocrites."
She kept her temper wonderfully, in all except her eyes.
"Ah, you impetuous young people cannot understand the chastened lowlyheart, which nothing but heavy trials and the grace of God produce. Youknow, Clara, you never could."
This last truth was put in the form of an exclamation, and in such adifferent tone from the rest, moreover it was so true, that I couldhardly help smiling.
"Since last I saw you, I have been tried severely and chastised mostheavily. I bow to the rod. All works together for our spiritual good.Until that blessed day, when all the sheaves--"
"Mrs. Daldy, I as well have seen and suffered much since last we met.If I could not be hoodwinked then by this sham religion, is it likelythat I can be now? I wonder that you waste your time so."
The truth was that she talked in this strain less from hope than habit.
"Then if I must treat you, Miss Vaughan, but as a sister worldling, letus at least combine, for Providence has seen fit to make our intereststhe same."
"How so?" I was doing my utmost to bear with her awhile.
"First, before I tell you anything, have you as keen an eye for theperception of your own sweet interest as for the discovery of what youkindly call 'hypocrisy?' Ah well, it is all for my good."
Her rolling compendious eyes glistened at the thought that she was aboutto catch me here. I pretended to be caught already.
"What of it, if I have?"
"Then I will tell you something. Sit down by me, Clara."
"Thank you, I will stand."
"Now first, before I tell you anything, we must make some littlearrangement for our mutual benefit, and then resolve upon united action.You must give me one little pledge. That being done I will tell youeverything, and it is of the last importance to you."
"Is it about my father?'
"No. It has nothing to do with him; it is about your uncle, who nowlies at the door of death. All, it is all for the best. There is, Ifear, no chance of his recovery, and the disposal of this splendidproperty is in our hands, if we know how to play our cards, and if weact together. But there is no time to be lost. Only think, 15,000*l.*a year, for it is now worth every farthing of that, besides thisbeautiful place. Why, Clara, all the pleasures of life will be at ourfeet!"
In her greedy excitement, she forgot all her piety; but I liked herbetter so. In a moment she saw that she had laid her wicked heart tooopen. In my eyes there was no co-partner flash of avarice.
"What is the matter with my poor uncle?"
"First a paralytic stroke; since that low gastric fever, and entireprostration. Do you remember when you came to your dear mother'sfuneral?"
"Of course, I do."
"And could you help observing how altered he was even then? The hour heheard of her death, he was seized with violent illness, yet he would goout of doors alone, on the very day of the funeral. Something thenexcited him; he came home worse, and in the night was visited with aslight paralytic stroke. However, he quite recovered the use of hislimbs for a time, though never his former spirits--if we can call themspirits. For several months he went about as usual, except that insteadof a horse he rode a quiet pony. He saw to the property, received theMichaelmas rents, and invested large sums of money both in land and thefunds; he even commenced some great improvements, for he has alwaysbeen, as you know, a most skilful and liberal steward and manager."
"That I never denied. There could not be a better one."
"But suddenly, after no Christmas festivities (for he would hear ofnone, for the sake of your dear mother), he was found on the morning ofthe last day in the year bolt upright in his study chair, and fullydressed, with two pistols, loaded and cocked, on the table, no sign oflife in his face or pulse, his body stiff yet limp, like a sand-bagtightly stuffed. The man who found him described it better than I can.'Poor master, whichever way I put him, there he stop, like a French dogdoing tricks.''
"How terrible!"
"Yes, but it was true. At first they thought it was catalepsy only; butwhen that passed off, paralysis remained. I wanted to send for you atonce."
Here she met, for she could not help it, but did not answer, my gaze;and I knew it was a lie.
"However, I was over-ruled; and your poor uncle lay bed-ridden, but inno actual danger, until this horrid low fever came. He must have aframe of iron to have borne up as he has. The doctor says this fever ispartly from the prostration of the nerves."
"Who is the doctor?" I felt almost as if I could love my uncle.
"A very eminent man. His name is Churchyard."
"That is not our old medical man. Where does this gentleman come from?"
"Cheltenham, I believe."
"Surely, you must know that, if he is an eminent man; living thereyourself!"
I saw that she had brought him.
"Well," she answered sharply, "it matters little where he comes from,and I have not verified his residence. I fear all the doctors in Europecould not save your poor dear uncle." And here (from habit when deathwas thought of) she fell into the hypocritical vein once more--"Ah, howtrue it is! The thing that will most avail him now, when his poorsinful frame is perishing, and the old man with all its works--"
"Thank you. I know all that. Which room does my uncle occupy?"
"Surely, you never would think of disturbing him at midnight!"
"Does death look what o'clock it is? If he is really dying, I must seehim at once."
She seemed resolved to prevent me. I was determined to do it. It isneedless to tell all her stratagems, and needless to say (unless I havefailed to depict myself) that they proved utterly vain. I was onlysurprised that she did not come with me.
Clara Vaughan, Volume 2 (of 3) Page 18