CHAPTER ELEVEN.
JEALOUSY.
Whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny, and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain!
Some weeks after our conversation in the churchyard, I met old Shufflerone day waddling along the Terrace in a state of great excitement.
He told me he was going to an auction, and pressed me to accompany him,that he might have the benefit of my advice and opinion concerningcertain objects of "bigotry and virtue," as he styled them, which hedesigned purchasing--should he be able to get them knocked down cheap.
On asking the reason for such an unwonted outlay on his part, he saidthat he was about furnishing a new villa for which he had just found atenant.
"A fresh tenant!" said I with surprise, a newcomer in our suburb beingalways regarded as a sort of rare bird. "A fresh tenant! Who is he, orshe, or whoever it may be?"
"Well, sir," said Shuffler, "it's a secret as yet; but I don't mindtelling you, Mr Lorton, as I know you won't let it out--Mr Mawley, theparsun, has took the villa!"
"Mr Mawley!" I exclaimed, with redoubled astonishment. "Why, what onearth does _he_ want a house for?"
"I believe, sir," said Shuffler, blinking his sound eye furiously thewhile, to give a facetious effect to his words, "he's agoin' to getmarried. So my missus says at least, sir; and she gen'rally knows wot'sagoin' on. Wemmenfolk finds out them things somehow or other!"
"Mawley going to be married!" I repeated. "Nonsense, Shuffler! it isprobably some mistake. You and your wife must have let your brains runwool-gathering, and made the story up between you!"
"No, sir," he replied, "it's as true as you are a standin' there. We'veno call to tell a lie about the matter, sir," and he drew himself upwith native dignity.
"And you have really heard it for a fact, Shuffler?"
"I 'ave so, sir; and I could tell you, too, the party as he is agoin' tojoin!"
"Can you?" I asked. "Who _is_ the favoured she?"
"Well, sir," said he with a sly wink, screwing up his mouth tightly asif wild horses would not tear the information from him against his will,"that would be tellin'?"
"I know it would," said I, "but as you have already told me so much, Ithink you might now let me know the lady's name."
"Mr Lorton," he answered, "you know I would do anything for you Ihonestly could, for you 'ave been a friend to me many a time, speciallywhen I got into that row with the tax collector, when you be'aved'andsome. But to speak to the rights of the matter, I can't say I_know_ the lady's name wot the parsun is agoin' to marry: I only has mysuspicions like."
"Well, and whom do you think to be the one?" said I.
"She don't live far from here!" he said in a stage whisper, dropping hisvoice, and looking round cautiously, as he pointed along the row ofhouses composing "the Terrace," where our most fashionable parishionersresided--our Belgravia, so to speak.
"You don't mean one of the Miss Dashers?" I said, thinking of Bessie.
"Lord, no!" he replied, "it ain't one of `my lady's' young ladies!"
"Then who is it?" I said, getting quite impatient at histergiversation.
"Oh! she comed here later than them!" he answered, still beating aboutthe bush; "she comed here later than them," he repeated, nodding hishead knowingly.
A sudden fear shot through me. "Is it?--no, it cannot be--is it MissClyde?" I asked.
"Ah!" he grunted, oracularly. "You knows best about that, sir!"
"Well, don't you dare, Shuffler," I savagely retorted, "to couple thatlady's name with Mr Mawley's!" I was literally boiling over with furyat the very suspicion:--it was the realisation of my worst fears!
"You've no cause to get angry, Mr Lorton," said he. "I didn't name nonames, sir; tho' you might be further out, as far as that goes! Ididn't know as you was interested in the lady, or I shouldn't 'amentioned it."
"You're quite wrong--quite wrong altogether, Shuffler. Why, the thing'sabsurd!" I said.
"Well, you know you axed me, sir; and what could I say?" he saidapologetically.
"That may be," I said, less hotly. "But you had better not couplepeople's names together in that way. Why, it's actionable!" I added,knowing the house-agent's mortal dread of anything connected with thelaw.
"But you won't spread it no further, Mr Lorton?" he said, anxiously,the sound eye looking at me with a beseeching expression.
"_I_ won't, Shuffler," I answered; "take care that _you_ don't!"
"I'll take my davy, sir, as how it shan't cross my lips again," hereplied in a convincing tone.
"Very well, Shuffler," I replied, turning away from him. "Only keep tothat, and it will be best for you. Good day!"
"Good day, sir; and you won't come to the auction along o' me?"
"No," said I. "I can't spare the time to-day. I'll try and come to-morrow, if that will do as well."
I did not wish to be angry with him; for, after all, I had brought thebitter information he conveyed entirely upon myself. He was onlyrepeating what was, probably, already the gossip of the whole suburb.Besides, he really had mentioned no names:--the allusion to Min, hadbeen as much my suggestion as his; so, I tried to be affable with himbefore we parted. "I'll try and come to-morrow, Shuffler, if that willdo as well, to look at the things you want me," I said, more cordiallythan I had previously spoken to him.
"All right, sir," he replied, all beaming once more, with _the_ eye asjovial as ever. "That'll suit me jest as well, sir; and I'm very muchobleeged, too, I'm sure."
He, thereupon and then, waddled off on his mission of beating downopposition brokers; while I paced along sadly, thinking about the news Ihad just heard.
I was going to call on Lady Dasher, who would be able to confirm it, orsettle that it was a mere idle report; consequently, I would not have toremain long in suspense.
I would soon know the truth, one way or the other.
Prior, however, to my reaching this haven of rumour, I met little MissPimpernell. She was trotting along, with a basket on her arm, accordingto her usual wont when district visiting.
"Hi! Frank," she exclaimed, on seeing me. "What is the matter with younow? Why, my dear boy, you've got a face as long as my arm, and lookthe picture of misery!"
"Oh, I've just heard something that surprised me," I said. "I've beentold that Mr Mawley is going to get married."
"Well, that's news to me," she said. "I haven't heard it before. Butwhat if he _is_ going to be married--are you so sorry on his account, orfor the lady?" she continued, in a bantering tone--she always liked abit of a joke--"I never thought you took such an interest in MrMawley!"
"I'm sure I don't know," I said. "It has surprised me, that's all."
"_So_ it has me, Frank," said she. "Who told you?"
"I don't know whether I ought to tell, Miss Pimpernell," I replied,hesitatingly. "It was disclosed to me in confidence, and--"
"No matter, no matter, my clear boy," said the old lady briskly. "Thenyou ought _not_ to tell me. But, at the same time, Frank, I don'tbelieve a word of it! If Mr Mawley had been meditating anything of thesort, _I_ would have been his first confidante! I don't think there's aword of truth in it, Frank, no matter who your informant was. I daresaythe rumour has got about just because he has taken a house, which he canvery well afford, having got tired of living in lodgings; and smallblame to him, say I! He's no more going to get married than _I_ am,Frank; and I do not believe that likely, do you?"
She laughed cheerily, tapping me on the cheek with her glove.
She was always petting and caressing me; and, I believe, considered me asort of big baby exclusively her own property.
"But his taking a house looks suspicious," I said, willing to be moreconvinced.
"Not a bit of it," said Miss Pimpernell, sturdily. "Why, if MonsieurParole d'Honneur took a house, would that be any reason for _his_getting married? Ah, I know, Frank, who has put all
this nonsense inyour head! It is that gossiping old Shuffler. I'll give him a lecturewhen I next catch him," and she shook her fist comically in the air, tothe intense wonderment of Miss Spight, who was crossing the road.
"But, mind, I didn't tell you so, Miss Pimpernell. Don't tell him thatI repeated what he said?"
"Stuff and nonsense," she said. "Why, he'll tell everybody he meets thenews in confidence, just the same as he did you. I'll give him a goodwigging, I tell you! Mr Mawley is not going to be married in a hurry;and if he is, not to the young person you think, Master Frank."
"I did not mention anybody, Miss Pimpernell," I said, in confusion; for,her keen black eyes seemed to penetrate into my very heart, and searchout my secret fears.
She looked very sagacious.
"Ah! Frank, you did not _say_ anything; but your looks betrayed you.So _that's_ the reason why the report of the curate's marriage affectedyou so, is it? But you needn't blush, my dear boy! You need not blush!_I_ will not tell tales out of school; so you may set your mind atrest. It is not, however, as you think, Frank. Cheer up; and good-bye,my dear boy. I must be trotting off now, or my poor blind woman willthink I'm never coming to read to her."
And off she went, leaving me much happier than old Shuffler had done.
Confound him! What did he mean, with his cock-and-a-bull story?
On reaching Lady Dasher's house, however, the house-agent's rumour was,to my great distress, confirmed; and, that in the most authoritativemanner.
It must be true then, in spite of Miss Pimpernell's denial!
My lady was in one of her most morbid and melancholy moods, too, whichdid not help to mend matters.
I praised her fuchsias on entering; but even this homage to herfavourite hobby failed to rouse her.
She had heard that Mrs Clyde had some of the most beautiful pelargonia;and what were _her_ paltry flowers in comparison?
Alas! she was poor, and could only afford a few miserable fuchsias todecorate her drawing-room--or rather the better to exhibit its poverty!
If her poor, dear papa had been alive, things of course would have beenvery different; and she could have had petunias, or orchids, or any ofthe rarest hot-house flowers she pleased; but, now, she was poor,although proud, and could not afford them like that rich parvenue.
How, good things always seemed given to those who are above their need!
There was Mrs Clyde getting her only daughter engaged to be marriedalso, she heard; while no suitor came forward for _her_ two poor orphangirls!
Such was the staple of her conversation--enlivening, at any rate.
"Oh, ma!" exclaimed Bessie Dasher at this juncture; "you should not sayso to Mr Lorton! He'll think you wish him to propose at once!" andboth she and her sister burst out laughing at the idea.
"So I would," said I, jokingly, notwithstanding that I felt asmelancholy and little inclined for raillery as their mother, whose wordsseemed to clinch what old Shuffler had said. "So I would, too, if thereweren't a pair of you, and bigamy contrary to law. `How happy could Ibe with either, were t'other dear charmer away.' But," I continued,turning to Lady Dasher, with an assumption of easy indifference which Ifound it hard to counterfeit under the searching glances of the two wildIrish girls, her daughters, "is it really true what you said just nowabout Mrs Clyde's daughter, Lady Dasher?"
"Yes, Mr Lorton," she replied, "to the best of my belief it is; for, Ihave heard, on the most unimpeachable authority, that she is engaged toMr Mawley. He is always going there, you know."
"But that is no proof, ma," said Bessie Dasher, who, as I have hintedbefore, was suspected of a slight tenderness towards the curate. "MrMawley is always coming here, too!"
"True, my dear," said her mother; "still there are comings and comings.You may depend he only goes there so often _for a purpose_! Indeed, Iasked Mrs Clyde whether there was not something in it only yesterday,and she smiled and said nothing; and, if _that_ isn't proof," sheconcluded, triumphantly, "I don't know _what_ is!"
Bessie remained silent, but her sister said impulsively, "I don'tbelieve it, ma--not what you say, but about Minnie Clyde's engagement.Mr Mawley's going there proves nothing, as Bessie said; and, as forMrs Clyde, I believe she would smile in that graceful way of hers--Ihate fine people!--and say nothing if you told her that her house was onfire! The curate is always gadding about, and Minnie is a pretty girl;so, of course, he likes to go there and see her; but, I know, that shedoes not care twopence for him."
"Ah, you may say so, my dear; but _I_ know better. She would jump tohave him. All girls like handsome young clergymen, as I know to mycost. Ah, Mr Lorton," went on Lady Dasher, with a sad expressive shakeof her head, "marriage is a sad lottery, a sad lottery! I once thoughtof marrying into the church, too, when my poor dear papa was alive.Perhaps it would have been a happier lot for me if I had done so! Hewas such a dear, nice clergyman, and looked so well in his canonicals--such a truly evangelical minister! I could listen to his sermons forhours without feeling the slightest fatigue!"
"Thank goodness, then, he wasn't our papa!" exclaimed the saucySeraphine. "I'm certain that _I_ wouldn't have been able to listen tohis sermons so long!"
"Ah, my dear," groaned her mother at her levity, "always frivolous,Seraphine! I'm afraid you will never marry a pious, holy man, as Iwould wish!"
"Not if I know it, ma!" she retorted, so heartily that both her sisterBessie and I--in spite of my anxiety about Min--could not but join inher catching laughter. "No," continued the pert and impetuous younglady, "when I enter the holy estate of matrimony I shall choose a gaysoldier laddie. None of your solemn-faced parsons for me! If they wereall like our good old vicar, whom I would take to-morrow if he asked me,it would be quite a different thing; but they are not. They are all toosteady and starch and stiff now-a-days. They look as if butter wouldnot melt in their mouths!"
"Ah, my dear!" said her mother, "you will not think so by-and-by.`Beggars mustn't be choosers.' You have got nothing but your face foryour fortune, you know, although it would have been very different if mypoor dear papa had been alive!"
"What, my face, ma?" said her dutiful daughter, "I'm sure I hope not!Really, I'm very well satisfied with it;" and, getting up and going tothe mirror, she set about altering the riband in her hair, humming thewhile the old ballad--
"`My face is my fortune, kind sir,' she said, `Kind sir,' she said, `sir,' she said; `My face is my fortune, kind sir,' she said."
I did not like to press any more inquiries with reference to MrMawley's rumoured engagement, thinking they would look too pointed,disclosing my interest in the affair,--however much I was transportedwith the feelings of mingled jealousy, doubt, and uncertainty, that werepreying on my heart; consequently, I now took my leave, all thesuspicions and fears, which Shuffler's news had given rise to, more rifethan ever:--the renewed hope that Miss Pimpernell's cheery address hadinspired me with, completely dispelled.
I'm afraid my anxiety was only too apparent; for, Seraphine Dasherwhispered to me as I went out, "I don't believe a word of it, there! Itis only one of those absurd `true stories' that ma is always gettinghold of."
But I wouldn't be comforted.
It was only likely enough. Mawley was constantly going there, as LadyDasher had said, and Mrs Clyde encouraged him, there could be no doubt;there must be something in it, or these reports would never have gotabout. "There is never any smoke without fire."
Besides, Min herself did not dislike the curate as I did.
I could see that plainly for myself the night of that birthday party ather house. His insinuating address and treacherous advances hadprobably succeeded at last in entrapping her affections.
False, cruel girl that she was, how could she encourage me as she haddone, to nurse delusive hopes which, as she must have known, would onlyend in disappointment! What had been probably sport to her was death tome!
And yet, I _could_ not believe it of her.
My pure angel-natured Min, with
her darling madonna-like face andhonest, trustful grey eyes, to act like this?
No. It could not be. It was impossible.
Still, the very next day I saw her walking out alone with the curate.
It must be true, then, I thought; and I ground my teeth in anguish.
I determined to avoid her, never passing her house as I had beenpreviously accustomed to; and, only bowing coldly when I met her in thestreet.
At last she spoke to me one day, as I was coming out of the vicarage.
She was just going to knock at the door; so I encountered her face toface on the step, without a chance of escape.
She held out her hand to me.
I took it mechanically, and then let it drop; raising my hat at the sametime, without saying a word.
She addressed me with heightened colour and a wistful look in the deep,grey eyes.
"Why are you so angry with me, Frank?" she asked in her sweet, lowvoice, which had a slight tremble in it as she spoke. "What have I doneto offend you? You never stop and speak to me now, never call at ourhouse, and always pass me by with a cold frigid bow! Have I doneanything to offend you, Frank?" she entreated again. "If so, tell me;and I will beg your pardon, for it must have been unintentional on mypart?"
I was foolish, and proud, and conceited. I thought that I would notallow myself to be deceived twice.
I was bitter and rude. I made a mockery of all the friendly overtureswhich she made so lovingly with all the coy bashfulness of her maidenheart.
I could have strangled myself afterwards, when I thought it all over!
"I'm not aware, Miss Clyde," said I, as stiffly as you please--just asif she were a stranger to me, and not the dear Min whom I knew and lovedso well--"I am not aware that there is any necessity for your asking myforgiveness:--if you cannot suggest to yourself the reason for myaltered manner, words on my part would be useless indeed!"
I spoke thus harshly to her, and coldly, when my heart was almostbreaking the while.
"And is that all you have got to say to me, Frank?" she said, still inthe same dear, tender, entreating voice, and with glistening eyes.
My sternness was nearly melted; but I continued to hold out and standupon my dignity.
"I have nothing more to add, Miss Clyde," I said, with anotherGrandisonian bow.
"Then, Mr Lorton," she said, her grey eyes flashing, and her whole dearlittle self roused into a fiery, impulsive little Min--she lookedglorious in her pique!--"then, Mr Lorton, I will not seek to detain youfurther--let me pass, sir!" she added passionately, as, relenting of mybehaviour, I tried to stop her and explain my conduct--"Let me pass,sir! I do not wish to hear another word from you!"
And she walked, as stately as a little queen, into the hall of thevicarage, tossing up her sweet little dimpled chin proudly; while, I?--went back disconsolately home, my heart torn with conflicting emotions.
Was I right, or wrong?
Perhaps the rumour of her engagement had not the slightest foundation,in fact.
However, it was too late now to think about that!
All was over.
We were parted for ever!
She and I, Volume 1 Page 11