CHAPTER XXVII.
DON OR MYNHEER?
'Hear the truth-- A lame girl's truth, whom no one ever praised For being patient.' _George Eliot._
One morning, after a private interview with Alda, Mr. Underwood enteredthe drawing-room, hilariously announcing that Alda was a lucky girlthis time, for now she had a man in no fear of his relations.
Geraldine was glad of the need of getting into the carriage directly,and that her transit to Mr. Renville's was too brief for any answer tobe needed to her companion's warm satisfaction. Affairs of this sorthad come so thickly upon the family in the course of the last eighteenmonths, that she did not feel the excitement of novelty; and she wishedso little to dwell on the present, that at the museum, the absorbinginterest of her life-study drove out the immediate recollection of thestranger life-study she had left.
There could be no question as to the veritable cause of Alda's conductto Ferdinand; but Cherry was too much ashamed of it to rejoice in herown justification, scarcely even hoping that Marilda would perceive it.
Most likely Alda would have preferred staving off the crisis a littlelonger--at least till those keen eyes were out of sight--but she hadnow to do with a man whose will it was not easy to parry, and whomdelay and coyness might have driven off altogether. Cherry did not seeher till they met at luncheon; and there was Sir Adrian, who promotedthe little lame girl to a shake of the hand. Alda looked gracious andunusually handsome, being, in fact, relieved from a state of frettinguneasiness; Mrs. Underwood was beaming with triumph; Marilda--againthere is no word for it but--glum!
There was a rose show at the Botanic Gardens; but Cherry had declinedit, and Marilda immovably refused to go. After they had seen the othertwo ladies set off, resplendent under Sir Adrian's escort, Marildaannounced her intention of driving, as she often did, to the City, tofetch her father home, and, more cordially than of late, offered a seatto Cherry, if she did not mind waiting.
The City to Cherry's ears meant Ferdinand, whom she would not face forworlds; but she told herself that it was not like Bexley, where everyone who went to the bank was sure to be presently seen at Froggatt's,and she would not reject this advance from her cousin.
Indeed, Marilda wanted to talk, and freely told all she had beenhearing. The baronetcy was in the third generation, having beenconferred on the original transmuter, a Lord Mayor, with whom his sonhad toiled for the larger half of his days, and comparatively latehad bought an estate, and married a lady of quality. He had not longsurvived, and his widow had remarried. Of her nothing more was known;but her son was so entirely his own master, that her opposition was notlikely to be dangerous. Sir Adrian had the reputation of great wealth;and though he partook of the usual amusements of young men, there wasno reason to suppose that he did so to an extent that he could notafford. Altogether, it was a brilliant conquest; but 'How one does hateit all!' concluded Marilda.
This was all the amends Cherry received for the reproach that had sokeenly wounded her. Probably Marilda had really dismissed the charge;but hers was not a fine-grained mind, used to self-examination oranalysis; and she acted on a momentary impression, without much regardto the past or to consistency. Her affections were deep and strong;but partly from circumstances they were like those of a dog, dependingrather on contact than esteem. She had accepted Edgar and Alda asbrother and sister, and whatever they did, stood by them with all hermight; nor did she ever so much as realize that Alda had been wrong,and she herself misled. She would rather believe it the way of theworld, and part of the nature of things, than open her mind to blameAlda.
Besides, the sense of not understanding Cherry, and the recollectionof the effect produced on her by words apparently quite inadequate,the seeing her power of talking to and amusing gentlemen with whom sheherself had not an idea in common, Edgar's tender fervent pride in her,and Alda's half-contemptuous acknowledgment of her ability--all thiscontributed to give Marilda a certain shyness, awe, and constraint,that sometimes looked cold, and sometimes cross, and puzzled Cherry,who never dreamt of being formidable.
When they reached the house of business, Marilda went to her father'sroom, for since his illness she often helped him to wind up hiscorrespondence; and Cherry sat in the carriage, her attention dividedbetween a book and the busy traffic of the street.
Presently she saw a tall lean figure in black, with a deeply-cut sallowface set in grey whiskers. She knew it for the Vicar of St Matthew's;and he, after bowing and passing, turned, and coming to the window,said, 'Will you kindly tell me the right address to Mr. Audley, inAustralia? Clement left it with me, but I have mislaid it.'
'The Rev. C.S. Audley, Carrigaboola, Albertstown, West Australia.'And as he repeated it with thanks, she could not restrain herself fromstretching out a hand in entreaty, and saying, 'Oh! pray, pray tell me!How is he? Mr. Travis?'
'Your eldest brother's letter has done him a great deal of good.'
'Please tell me about him,' implored Cherry, colouring. 'We have knownhim for so long before. How does he bear it?'
Mr. Fulmort let himself into the carriage, and sat down by her, saying,'He is bearing it as you could most wish.'
'I longed to know. I feared it would be very terrible. His is not anEnglish nature.'
'It has been a great struggle. That first night he never went homeat all, but wandered about till daylight. I found him at five in themorning, sunk down on his knees in our porch, with his head against thechurch door, in a sort of exhausted doze.'
'Oh, well that he knew the way!' sighed Cherry. 'No one ever was socruelly treated!' she added with frowning vehemence. 'And then?'
'I took him to my rooms, and made him rest, and I went to Brown's andexcused his non-attendance. By the time he went to your sister he hadquite mastered himself.'
'He must. She never told about it; but we are sure she was quiteoverawed.'
'He came back quite calm, with a certain air of secresy, and hasgone on with a sort of stern quietness ever since,' said the Vicar,lowering his voice. 'Only on Sunday--he is one of our collectors atthe Offertory--he brought up his alms-bag bursting with bracelets andrings, and things of that sort.'
'Poor Fernan! how like him to do it in that way!'
'I think it relieved him. He is perfectly free of bitterness towardsyour sister--allows no flaw in her; but he is striving hard not toretain animosity against your uncle.'
'It is deserved by no one but her!' exclaimed Cherry; 'and there'sworse to come. I don't know whether I ought to mention it; but it willbe better for it to come to him from you.'
'_It_ is true, then?' said Mr. Fulmort, understanding her directly. 'Mysister told me it was reported.'
'It was only settled yesterday evening. I am afraid _this_ is worse forhim than if it had been any one else.'
'So am I. It seems to be the crisis of a long emulation. I beggedAston--my brother-in-law--to ascertain what was thought about it in thecorps; and he said that though poor Travis had never got on well withthe other men, there was a general feeling that he was not handsomelytreated.'
'That wretched man betted--'
Mr. Fulmort kindly but decidedly checked her. 'You had better notdwell on such reports. Things for which we are not responsible must bemade the best of when they bring us new connections. Our friend is notunprepared, and I will take care he does not hear this casually.'
'Thank you--oh! thank you! Give him my--' she caught herself upand blushed--'my very best remembrances; and tell him,' she added,carried away in spite of herself, 'that he must always be like one ofourselves.'
'It will be a great comfort to him. Nothing can exceed his affectionand gratitude to your family--indeed he said, with tears in his eyes,that to your brothers he "owes his very self also." I hope nothing willdisturb that friendship.'
'What will he do? Set about some great work somewhere?'
Mr. Fulmort smiled sadly. 'It is not safe to rush into great works toallay disappointment,' he said
. 'I think he is wiser to keep steadilyto his occupation, at least for the present; but he is giving his wholeleisure to his district and the evening classes. I am glad to have metyou. Good-bye.'
It was lucky that Cherry had plenty of time to subside before thereturn of Marilda and her father. The latter was much exalted by theexplanation he had had with Sir Adrian and his man of business. Therent-roll was all that could be desired, and so were the proposedsettlements; nor was there any fear on the score of the family. Thelawyer privately told Mr. Underwood that the mother, Lady Mary Murray,was a most gentle lady, without a spark of pride, and very anxious tosee her son married.
Nor did her letter belie this assurance. She expressed gladness thather son's choice should be a clergyman's daughter, and warmly invitedAlda to come and visit her at the Rectory, and make herself at homeamong the new brothers and sisters there.
It was gathered--partly from Sir Adrian, partly from gossip--thatLady Mary, a scantily-portioned maiden, had been too timid and docileto withstand the parental will, which devoted her to the wealthy oldbaronet; but in her widowhood she had followed the inclination thathad been pooh-poohed by her family in her girlhood. As a countryclergyman's wife, her homely quiet existence had less and lessinfluence over her son; and there was no danger of Alda finding inher an imperious mother-in-law, though, except as a connecting link,she would be valueless as an introduction. She was absolutely foolishenough to be romantically delighted at her son's marrying for love;and Geraldine fell in love with her on the spot, on reading herletter--one of the very few which Alda showed, for in general she kepther correspondence to herself. She avoided Cherry, and only talked toMarilda of externals.
Nothing was to be definitively arranged till Felix had come to London,and given his approval to the draught of the settlements, of which heand Mr. Murray were to be trustees. He was so much grieved and ashamed,that much urging from Wilmet was needed to convince him that he oughtnot to leave the whole to Tom Underwood; but as a counterpoise therewas Cherry to see--and oh! joy of joys! to fetch home. So he consentedto go up on a Saturday afternoon, and return on Tuesday; and thusit was, that one evening in July Cherry was gathered into his arms,murmuring 'Felicissimo mio, what an age it is since I have had you!'
Good-natured Mrs. Underwood had made it a family party, includingRobina and Angela, the worthy dame having little notion how slightlythey appreciated the honour, nor how curiosity, and love of Felix anda holiday, contended with very tumultuous and angry sensations. ThatAlda had never taken the smallest notice of Angela's confession, didnot render her cold kiss the pleasanter, nor the circle less awful asthe party sat round, awaiting the arrival of Sir Adrian. There theywere, nine uncomfortable people, sitting on gilded blue damask chairs,too few and too far apart for a comfortable whisper; the two youngestvery conscious of their best white frocks; the two eldest--the one ina flurry of anxiety and suspense, the other in a fret of impatienceand testiness; and Marilda--having announced her opinion that SirAdrian would shirk it, and not come at all--in a state of glumness.Edgar, however--an exception both to the discomfort and the seat--threwhimself into the breach with the story of the mysterious disappearanceof a nun, (Cherry suspected it of being _ben trovato_ for the nonce,)and when that was worn out, and the master of the house insisted onringing for dinner, and the mistress was almost in tears at his hungerand temper, and her own fear of rudeness, while Marilda only declaredthat it was no more than the due of tardiness, it was Edgar alone whohad strength of mind to declare that patience ought to end, and to pullthe bell.
The guest arrived with the dinner, looking so sulky about the eyes,that Cherry suspected him of having delayed while pitying himself forthe ante-nuptial infliction of this party. However, he proved to havesome justification, for a little stiffness of movement in giving hisarm to Mrs. Underwood elicited that he had bruised his shoulder in afall; and that good lady, pursuing the subject with less tact thansolicitude, drew from him that he had been mounting at his banker'sdoor, when his horse shied, and got its head away from the groom, butwas caught at once by a clerk sort of fellow. A showy brute, with anuncertain temper. He should get rid of it.
Angela had been nudging Edgar all the time, to make him ask what horseit was; and as he turned a deaf ear, her voice erected itself with theshrill pert sound that is the misfortune of girlhood--'Was it BrownMurad?'
Sir Adrian had to look to find out where the voice came from before heanswered in the affirmative.
'Then he isn't a brute at all!' said the same voice, with greatdecision. 'He is as gentle as a lamb, and will eat bread out of yourhand if you know how to use him properly!'
Her cheeks were crimson, and she was greatly displeased that Edgar andGeraldine should both begin talking of other things with all theirmight.
Sir Adrian had more of the art of conversation than poor Ferdinand; andas politics came up, Edgar declared himself to have become a voluntaryvictim to unanimity between the three contracting powers, who hadharmoniously joined in rending his carcase. He left them, nearly assoon as the ladies did, to discuss the business part of the affair,and came to the aid of Cherry and Robina, who were vainly trying toconvince Angela of the inexpedience of her outbreak, and obtaining inreturn the sentiment, 'I don't care what he does to Alda. It is herchoice, but not poor dear Brown Murad's, that he has got such a master!'
'You have done your best to make him fare worse.'
'Now, Edgar, you only want to frighten me.'
'No. If Vanderkist does not entirely forget the pertness of an _enfantterrible_, it will just add another sting to his dislike of the poorbeast.'
Angela fairly burst into tears, and ran away to the school-room, whenceshe returned with a bearing so magnanimous and desperate, that Cherryand Robina dreaded lest she should be meditating an apology and anappeal on behalf of the horse; so that they were much relieved when thecarriage came to take the young ladies home, before the consultation inthe dining-room broke up. Even then Angel did not wholly abstain, butwhen Alda gave her mechanical kiss, she said, 'Alda, please don't letSir Adrian be unkind to that poor dear horse!'
'Silly child! What fancies you take into your head!' said Alda,laughing, with a good-humoured superiority such as she had not shownat home. 'You need not fear but that whatever belongs to him is madehappy.'
Angela returned an unfeigned look of astonishment, and exclaimed,'After all, I do believe you are really in love with him!'
'Angel,' said Edgar, putting his hand on her shoulder, 'I called you an_enfant terrible_ just now; but you are too big for that indulgence,unless you mean to be equally hateful to friend and foe.'
Angela shook off his hand, and tossed her head disrespectfully, butwent off in silence. Sir Adrian only came upstairs to say he hadpromised to look in on Lady Somebody; and Alda bade good night as soonas he was gone. She had evidently nothing to say to Felix that night,nor the next morning, though he waited about after breakfast to giveher the opportunity; accompanied the family to their very dry church;and then, announcing his intention of repairing to St Matthew's, wasseen no more--not even at dinner-time, when his absence was somewhatresented by his hosts, and vexed Cherry a good deal.
However, he appeared before ten o'clock, made an apology about hisunexpected detention, and when the family circle broke up obeyedCherry's wistful look, and followed her to her room.
'Was it about Fernan?' she asked.
'The clerk sort of fellow who stopped the horse?'
'It did cross me, but I thought it too good to be true. How was it?'
'He had been sent on some business to the bank, and was almost at thedoor when Sir Adrian came out. The groom may have been holding thehorse carelessly. Sir Adrian spoke angrily; the horse started, got hishead free, and reared, throwing him down with his foot in the stirrup,so that he would have been dragged if Fernan had not got hold of thebridle, and his voice quieted poor Brown Murad in a moment.'
'Dear good fellow! I hope Sir Adrian did not punish him.'
'He is too valuable fo
r that, I hope; but Sir Adrian did not spareabuse to man or beast, and threw a thank-you to Ferdinand as if hedid not recognise him. Most likely we should never have heard of theadventure if it had not jarred the weak place in poor Fernan's back. Hedid not find it out at first, and stayed at his work the rest of theday; but it has been getting worse ever since, and I found him on thesofa, lengthened out with a chair.'
'That most horrible of sofas--all bars and bumps! Poor Fernan!'
'He only told me he had got a sprain in catching a rearing horse; andthen I leapt to the conclusion, and made him tell me. He says he hashurt himself in the same way before, and that the Life Guards' surgeontold him there was nothing for it but rest.'
'Rest, indeed! like St. Lawrence's gridiron--all but the fire! What didyou do for him?'
'Wished for Wilmet, and remembered Lance's telling me that I was of nouse to myself nor any one else.'
'Fancy Lance saying that! But you didn't really do nothing?'
'Luckily Edgar came in search of me, and showed what resource is.He had up the landlady, and as usual captivated her. She produced amattress, and Edgar routed out some air-cushions that Fernan had usedbefore, and they made him much more comfortable, I want to take himhome, but he does not think he can bear the journey.'
'No,' said Cherry; 'and he would be always in the way of hearing about_this;_ but it is dreadful to have him laid up in that dismal hole.'
'I ran round to the clergy-house, and they will look after him as muchas they can.'
'How is he looking?'
'As if he had not slept all night, but otherwise I believe this hasdone him good; I fancy he never knew what the first impulse of theferocious old Mexican might be.'
'Did he say anything?'
'No, but the Vicar did. He has had a terrible time; but I hope theworst is over. We read the Evening Service together; and he lookedso full of peace, that I thought of the contrast with that Christmasmorning when he opened his heart about the fire. There was all thedifference between blind feeling after truth and holding it in thehand.'
'Was Edgar with you then?' asked Cherry, eagerly.
'No, he came later.'
'You Blunderbore!' said Cherry, rallying her playfulness to hide theextinction of that moment's hope; 'how like the good Christian who gavethe wounded man the sermon first and the raspberry-vinegar after!'
'Come with me to-morrow, and give him the raspberry-vinegar then,Cherry.'
'Nay,' said Cherry, feeling this impossible, but withholding thereason; 'I am as bad--just as much demoralized by a Wilmet--and shouldbe no good.'
'The sight of you would be ever so much good. You needn't be shy. Youwent with Clem.'
'Once too often,' faltered Cherry.
'Eh? Why W.W. said not a word against it!'
'I would go with all my heart, Felix,' said Cherry, earnestly, 'butthat I am afraid Alda gave him the--the same reason she did to Marilda.'
'What do you mean? You are all one blush! You can't mean that shepretended jealousy?'
'I never meant you to know,' said Cherry. 'O Felix! nothing ever was sodreadful! Marilda thought it so bad of me. I did so long for you!'
'You should have sent for me. I never thought of exposing you to suchan insult.'
'I tried to write, but my hand was too shaky; and then Edgar came, andwas so very dear! He said Alda only laid hold of this as a plea forgetting out of the affair; and you see he was right. Don't be vexed,Felix; it is all over now, and I hope it has made me more of a womanand less of a baby; but after this, I could not go to him.'
'No. I declare I can forgive Alda anything rather than this!'
'She does not know what she is saying when she is in an ill-usedmood--especially of me. Indeed, I believe I ought to have been moreguarded. Shall you tell her about the horse?'
'Certainly not.'
'And are you letting this go on without speaking to her?'
'I have written twice.'
'She never told me. What did you say?'
'A prose--I fear in the leader and heavy father style--which probablyshe never read; and the answers were civil enough, but meant that shewould please herself.'
'You really do not mean to say anything?'
'If she asks my opinion, I must; but she does not. I am not hereto give my consent to the marriage, but to see fair play in thesettlements.'
'Do you think that right?'
'Remember, we know nothing against him, except his conduct to Fernan.'
'We know he has not much religion.'
'Cherry, I should put that objection forward decisively if she werea younger one, for whom I am bound to judge; but she is only a yearyounger than I am, and has seen more of the world. She must know moreabout his principles than I can, and be able to judge whether shechooses to trust to them. No argument of mine would make any differenceto her; and I have not the right to thrust in objections unasked.'
'O Felix!'
'What?'
'Is not that rather "Am I my brother's keeper?"'
'I hope not. You see, the sort of fatherly relation I bear to you allhas never existed towards her. She was given quite away; and where I donot suppose even a father's remonstrance would avail, I do not feelcalled upon to alienate her further by uplifting my testimony unsought.'
'No, it would hardly do her good; but it would clear your ownconscience.'
'It might bring dissension and harsh judgment on my conscience. Nothingcan be most conscientious that is not most for another's good; and Ido not think forcing an additional opposition or remonstrance, on meregrounds of my own estimate of him, would be useful. You observe, too,that our cool manner of treating this brilliant match is token enoughof our sentiments.'
'Then you won't go to the wedding?'
'Not if I can help it; and I don't think my company is desired.Remember,' as he still saw her dissatisfied, 'it is not the same thingto be an overt scamp as to be what you and I do not think a religiousman.'
With a sudden impulse Cherry burst out laughing. 'If the great SirAdrian could only see what the little country bookseller thinks of hisalliance?'
'Don't let pride peep out at the holes in our cloaks,' said Felix,kissing her.
She could not refuse herself the satisfaction of letting Marilda hearthe real history of the accident; but she could extract nothing but'Indeed.'
Altogether, Marilda disappointed Cherry. She went so entirely alongwith the stream, only now and then remorselessly giving way to atremendous fit of crossness towards every one except her father, neverseeming scandalized by any doing of Alda's, and snubbing Cherry if sheshowed any sort of disapprobation.
Felix stole the first hour of his busy day for Ferdinand, and then wasdistressed to leave him outstretched in his dull, close, noisy den,ill adapted for the daylight hours of anything but blue-bottle flies;though neither heat nor idleness was quite so trying to him as theywould have been to an Underwood. He had a cigar and newspaper; butwhen books were proposed to him, allowed that reading bored him. WhenFelix shifted the cushions, however, under them was a deep devotionalmystical work; and colouring a little, he owned that nothing interestedhim but reading and slowly digesting fragments of this kind. And Felixfelt that it would be unreasonable to regret the snapping of the tiethat bound him to Alda.
After some hours of business in the City, Felix came back, but wasamazed to hear that Mr. Travis was gone. The landlady seemingly ratherhurt at the slur on her attentions, said that an elderly lady had comeand taken him away, leaving an address. This led Felix into FinsburySquare, where he was started to see waiting at the door a big carriage,the panels and blinkers displaying the Underwood rood. On his askingfor Mr. Travis, a neat young maid took him to a downstairs room, whereFerdinand was lying on a large sofa, accepting luncheon from a bigstout housekeeper-looking body, and--Marilda Underwood, her bonnet off,as if quite at home!
'Felix!--Granny, have you never seen Felix Underwood!'
Mrs. Kedge turned round and held out her hand. 'I've never seenMr. Felix
Hunderwood,' she said; 'but there's no gentleman I 'oldsin 'igher respect.--Sit down Mr. Felix, and take your bit ofnoonchine.--Mary, give him some weal.--I could have had some soup ifI'd known I was to be so honoured; but I am a plain body, and likes acut from the servants' dinner--and so does Mary, for a change. So,'before he could insert his civil reply, 'Vell, we've brought off yourfriend; I 'ope you think him in good 'ands.'
'The kindest hands,' said Felix; though, as good Mrs. Kedge discoursedon hopodeldoc and winegar as sovereign for a sprain, he began to thinkthe change a doubtful good, and was glad Ferdinand seemed chieflysensible of the motherly care of the old lady.
Marilda offered her cousin a seat in the carriage, when after the mealshe set forth to take her father home, there to hold conference withMr. Murray and the lawyer.
'This is your doing,' he said, gratefully, as they drove off. 'How verykind!'
'Grandmamma always liked him,' said Marilda. 'He is so respectful, andhe plays backgammon.'
'It is much better for him than that doleful room, which was only madeendurable by its being near his friends the curates.'
'They will come to him there. Granny does not mind. She used to thinkthey starved Clement; but of late they have come to be great friendswith her, and come to her for rag, or broth, or hospital tickets.'
'Does she go to their church?'
'Oh no, she wouldn't to save her life--she thinks it quite shocking;and there are two young merry ones who have regular quarrels with her,teasing and making fun, and she scolding them, but so fond of them,giving them quite large sums for their charities. She really delightsin them.'
Marilda spoke far more freely to Felix than she ever could to Cherry,but still she steered clear of Alda and her affairs. Only she did askhim earnestly to avert all additional care and anxiety from her fatherin arranging for the settlements, and above all to hinder any questionover which he could become excited. Then, as he promised to do all inhis power, she asked him what he thought of her father's health andlooks. He could truly say that he thought he was much better since lastautumn, and she looked cheered; but the few words she whispered madeit known to him that she was all this time living in a watchful stateof continual anxiety--being in truth the only person, except perhapsEdgar, who really understood what last year's attack had been, or thedangers of another. If her mother and Alda knew, they did not realize;and he could perceive both the burthen, and the manner in which itrendered her almost passive, except in obviating discussion or alarm.
Of the former there was no danger at the conference. Mr. Murray wasjust as anxious as Mr. Underwood and Felix could be, that the fivethousand pounds that had been promised to Alda should be settled uponherself and the younger children, together with a fair proportioncharged upon the estate. He was a pleasing person, a perfect gentleman,of mildly cordial manners, accepting his new connections with courtesyand kindness. He was evidently charmed with Alda, whom he wanted totake home with him to be introduced to Lady Mary, before returning tochoose her outfit. This was to be completed by the end of the month,that the honeymoon might interfere as little as possible with the moonfatal to partridges.
Felix was right. His presence was not desired. The father's partnaturally belonged to Thomas Underwood; and though an invitation wasnot wanting, Alda did not remonstrate when Felix spoke of the assizeweek requiring him to be at Minsterham, and of Charles Froggatt havingcome home in such a broken state of health, that his father's presencein Bexley could never be depended upon. She had no desire to displaythe full dozen _geschwister;_ but to Cherry she qualified things alittle: 'I suppose as Felix will not come, one of you will stay withhim?'
'Of course I shall! You know I'm wedded!' And she merrily held LordGerald's ivory visage close to her own.
'I knew you would shrink from it. And those two children atBrompton--it will be the middle of their holidays, and it will not beworth while having them; besides, it would be encroaching, as Uncle Tomgives all those dresses--and one never knows what that Angel might do.'
'Never,' said Cherry, in full acquiescence, and sure of the same fromWilmet.
'But Wilmet and Stella must come. One of the little Murrays will pairwith Stella; and I want Adrian to see her. You will not feel slighted,Cherry; I know you had rather not.'
'Much rather not,' said Cherry, for Alda was really speakingconsiderately. Indeed, Alda was taking such a leap out of the samesphere, that she could afford to be gracious to 'the little deformedone,' as Sir Adrian most inappropriately termed Geraldine. Shegraciously accepted for a wedding-present an intended portrait ofStella, and rejoiced heartily at Cherry's prize for the life-study.
Never had Cherry, however, been happier than in getting home, away fromconstraint, away from fine houses, away from half-comprehended people,back to free affection and mutual understanding.
'One's own cobweb for ever! The black caterpillar is crawling homeagain to the dear old nettle!' she cried.
'But you are not sorry to have gone,' said Felix.
'If only to get back again.'
'But they were kind.'
'I don't want people to be kind; I want them to be one with me.'
'My dear! you did not seem unhappy. We thought you enjoyed yourself.'
'I did. I was only unhappy once. I liked things very much and shallmore, now I have time. It was such a bustle and whirl; and I felt soobliged to make the most of it, that it seemed to wear my senses. Don'tyou see, it was like snatching at flowers; and now I can sit down tomake up my nosegay, and see what I have gained.'
Cherry almost expected Wilmet to decline, in her hatred of finery andher general dissatisfaction; but Wilmet's love of Alda was too strongfor her not to long to be with her at such a crisis of her life, andshe was eager to accept the invitation, without fearing that theeffects of her absence would be as direful as in the previous year.
The party at home were not by any means disconsolate. Felix was verybusy, for Charles Froggatt had come home, a repentant prodigal, andslowly sinking under the disease that had carried off his more worthybrothers; and the father could seldom persuade himself to leave him forlong together, and besides, needed cheering and comfort from his youngfriends. But Lance and young Lamb were working well and helpfully; andWilliam Harewood spent almost as much time at Bexley as his brother haddone.
He had passed his examination with flying colours, and had previouslymatriculated at Oxford; and thus being emancipated from the choir,which had kept him close at home, he seemed to think it liberty to bealways at Bexley. As a Harewood, Wilmet let him do as he would--sleepin the barrack, and be like one of their own boys; and Lance'sneighbourhood seemed to be all he wanted, though little of Lance'scompany was to be had, except in walking to see him bathe in earlymorning, and in long walks after seven in the evening--and for thesethe long July days gave ample verge. Robina, Angel, and Bernard oftenbenefited by these expeditions into the dewy fields, redolent of hay,and came home to that delightful twilight that seems as if it wouldnever be darkness.
Bill professed perfect content in the day hours. He was a voraciousreader, and would remain for hours in the reading-room intent on somepursuit; and what perhaps was a still greater attraction, he couldtalk, and find listeners.
Cherry only now understood what Lance had always maintained--that thatshock-headed boy was full of thought, poetry, and ability. He had shedhis school-boy slough; and he had moreover adopted the Underwoods, andfor the first time learnt what an appreciative woman could be.
His poem of this year was so good, that Lance and Robin thoughtFelix shockingly blind because he refused to put it bodily into thePursuivant, though allowing that it was much better than anything thatwould appear instead; and short pieces that the lad was continuallystriking off were only too good for the poet's corner, where, however,they gave an infinity of pleasure and satisfaction to two householdsat least. The poet--March Hare, as he signed himself--was an oddmixture of his father's scholarly tastes with his mother's harum-scarumforgetfulness; and the consequence was such
abstraction at one moment,such slap-dash action at another, that he was a continual good-naturedlaughing-stock. To talk and read to Cherry seemed to be one of hisgreat objects in life. He began it with Robina; but gradually Cherry,partly as critic and sub-editor of the Pursuivant, partly on her ownmerits, became the recipient of ten thousand visions, reflections,aspirations, that were crowding upon the young spirit, while she triedto follow, understand, and answer, with a sense that her powers werebeing stretched, and her eyes opened into new regions.
And then, if a stranger appeared, he sank into the red-headed lout; orif he had a message or commission, he treated it senselessly. Lanceused to send Bernard up--as he said, to see him into the right train;and in the home party in the evening, his wit and drollery were thecause of inexhaustible mirth--Willie, as Robin and Angela agreed, wasbetter fun than all the weddings, and even all the sights that Londoncould give. Sometimes they were weary with laughing at him, sometimeswith the lift he gave their minds; for even Angel understood andfollowed, and was more susceptible than her elders gave her credit for;and certainly she had never been so good as she was this summer, thoughit was still a flighty odd sort of goodness.
And all this time there was not a word between him and Robin of thatevening walk. Whether he thought of it or not she knew not; but withher the recollection had a strength that the moment had not had. Itseemed to be growing up with her. It was a memory that went deeper--fardeeper than was good for her, poor child, since there was no surfacechatter to carry it off; but the maidenliness of fifteen shrank witha sort of horror and dismay from the bare consciousness that she hadallowed herself to think that those words of his could be serious, evenwhile they had formed in her a fixed purpose of striving for him; andevery mark of kindness or of preference assumed a value unspeakableand beyond her years, while her whole self was so entirely the good,plodding, sensible, simple child, that no one detected the romancebeneath. Did the object of it, himself?
Meantime Wilmet had found Alda much gratified by her reception at theRectory, though confessing that she was glad that it was not in herimmediate neighbourhood. Lady Mary Murray belonged to a severe schoolof religious opinions, and was antagonistic to gaiety and ornament,both secular and ecclesiastic. What effect they and Clement might havemutually had upon each other was not proved, for he had found a pupil,and was far away; but as Alda herself owned, Wilmet would have been thedaughter-in-law to suit them.
Wilmet and Marilda were very congenial in their housewifely tastes andabsence of romance, and above all, in a warm and resolutely blind lovefor Alda, never discussing the past, and occupied upon the trousseau,without an _arriere pensee_.
Sir Adrian was civil to Wilmet, but he never would acknowledge theresemblance between the twin-sisters; and as Wilmet wore no earrings,and kept her hair in the simple style that John Harewood had oncepronounced perfect, he had only once been confused between them, andthen was so annoyed, that Edgar said he was like a virtuoso, who havingsecured some unique specimen, finds the charm of possession injured bythe existence of a duplicate.
Even in the Murray family there might be those who questionedwhether the beauty were equal. Either the smooth folds and plaitsof the rich brown hair pleased a homely taste better than fancifulvarieties, or housewifery and early hours were better preservativesthan London seasons; or maybe the stately sweetness of the originalmould was better and more congenially maintained in the life ofthe true 'loaf-giver or lady' of the laborious thrifty home thanin the luxurious dependence of the alien house, and the schemes,disappointments, and successes of the late campaign.
At any rate, at three-and-twenty the twins were less alike than ofold; and if Alda had the advantage in the graces of art and society,Wilmet had a purity of bloom and nobleness of countenance that shecould not equal. If Wilmet were silent, and by no means so entertainingas Geraldine, her little companion thoroughly compensated for anydeficiencies. Every one was taken by surprise by Stella's beauty, afterthe three intermediate sisters, who had little pretensions to anythingremarkable in that line. The child was of the same small delicate frameas Cherry and Lance; in fact, much what Cherry might have been withmore health and less genius to change those delicately-moulded featuresand countenance. The colouring of the blue eyes and silken hair wasrather deeper than the prevailing tint, and the complexion was of themost exquisite rosy fairness and delicacy, giving a sense of the mostdelicate porcelain--the movements and gestures perfectly graceful, andthe innocent chatter delightful, from its eagerness and simplicity. Shewas in every one's eyes an extraordinarily lovely and engaging child;and she could have reigned supreme over the whole house if she had everperceived her power, or emancipated herself from her loyal submissionto 'Sister.'
Many a time did Wilmet's restrictions vex her hosts, and call forthEdgar's epithets of dragon and Medusa. Luckily the child was of thefaithful spirit that honestly trusts its lawful authorities, fearsforbidden sweets, and feels full compensation in the pleasure ofobedience. One day, when a refusal to take her to the theatre hadcaused great indignation, Sir Adrian, who was by no means insensible toher charms, enlivened an idle moment by trying to excite her to rebel.
'I would not stand it, Stella--not I! Tell her stars have no businessto be hidden.'
'It's no use,' said Stella. 'Sister says when once she says No, it isfor always.'
'How very dreadful! She must be cured as soon as possible!'
Stella looked greatly perplexed; and Edgar, the only other personpresent, looked on in great amusement.
'Let us organise a combination,' continued Sir Adrian. 'What should wecome to, if women were allowed to keep to a single No?'
'Which would be the greatest sufferers?' muttered Edgar.
'It would be very nasty if Sister didn't,' said Stella, understandinghim verbally more nearly than he had expected.
'Indeed!' said Sir Adrian.
'Yes. One would never know when to make up one's mind.'
'One's mind! You little china fairy, have you got the mind of a midge?'
'Yes, _I_ have!' said Stella, with an emphasis that Edgar at leastunderstood as an allusion to the difference between herself andTheodore; and a little in fear of what might come next, he said, 'Mindenough to assert her woman's privilege, though how she may come to liketo be bound by it is another thing.'
'Look here, little one,' continued Sir Adrian, 'we'll not let Sisteralone till she comes round, and then I'll put you in my pocket and takeyou.'
'No, thank you,' said Stella, retreating.
'I thought you wanted to see the fairies?'
'I did; but Sister knows best.'
'Come, now; I'd give something to know where, in her secret soul, thislittle thing would like to send all the sisters that know best?'
'To the Neilgherry Hills,' said Stella, with surprising promptness;'that's where Captain Jack is!'
'A capital location!' cried the baronet, laughing triumphantly. 'Welldone, little one! Send her off--and then we'll have pine-apple ice, andsmart frocks, and go to as many plays as we please! You know what itmeans to have the cat away.'
'That was what Bernard said when Wilmet was away, and Alda at home,'said Stella; 'but it was very miserable. It was the very horridestportion in the whole course of our lives!'
'Long may it so continue, Stella,' said Edgar. 'You'll get no changeout of her, Vanderkist.'
'It's an odd little piece of goods. I can't make out if it is achild at all,' said Sir Adrian. 'I can't believe it is more thandrilling.--Now, my little beauty--no one will tell--walls can'thear--honour bright--which are you for in your heart of hearts--SisterWilmet and propriety, or Alda and--liberty?'
Edgar listened curiously; but Stella had that good genius of tactand courtesy that sometimes inspires children; and she made answer,'Wilmet is my own dear sister, and I am very glad it is Alda that youhave got.'
'Well said, you little ingenious morsel!' cried Edgar, laughing withdelight, and catching her up in his arms. 'What does nature design thislittle being for, Adrian? T
o marry a great diplomat?'
'To do execution of some sort, I should say,' returned Sir Adrian;'unless such alarming discretion cancels the effect of those eyes.Never saw a pair more meant to make hearts ache,' and he sauntered outof the room.
'Why, what now, you star of courtesy? has he kindled the spark ofvanity at last, that you are craning over to the big pier-glass--eh?'said Edgar, with his little sister still in his arms.
'I only want to see what he means that is so horrid in my eyes,' saidStella; 'please show me, Edgar. How can they hurt people so?'
'It's a way they have, Stella,' he gravely answered, 'when they areclear, and blue, and big-pupilled, and have great long black lashes.'And he looked with proud pleasure at the reflection of the sweet littlepuzzled face beside his own brown beard.
'But your eyes are just like that, Edgar; and so are everybody's,aren't they? Why do you laugh, Edgar? I wish I could go home, for Idon't understand any of you.'
'So much the better, Sister would say. I declare, I must risk it, andsee the effect. I say, Stella, don't you know that you're a littlebeauty, that they are all raving about? There!'
'Oh yes,' said Stella composedly; 'I know people always do like thingsfor being little, and young, and pretty. And then they don't see Tedo,and he is so much prettier than me, you know.'
'You impracticable child! What! have you no shade of a notion that itis a fine thing to have such a phiz as that one? Did you never thankyour stars that you weren't as ugly as Martha?'
'Do you worship the stars, Edgar? For I heard Clem say you were verylittle better than a heathen; and I suppose worshipping the stars isbetter than worshipping idols.'
'Is that malice, or simplicity--eh? Never mind my creed. You are mysister at this moment, and are to answer me truly. Do you know that youare a beauty? and are you glad of it?'
'I shouldn't like to be ugly,' said Stella; 'not so ugly that Icouldn't bear to look at myself. But if I was, they wouldn't leave offbeing kind to me at home.'
'Nor abroad either,' said Edgar, kissing her. 'You've got the tonguethat is nearly equal to the eyes, my Stella.'
Stella's simplicity might soon have been put in the way of furthertrials, for there was a serious proposal of adopting her in Alda'sroom, and promises of excellent education and an ample provision: andwhen Felix's decided though grateful refusal arrived, Mr. and Mrs.Underwood spoke angrily of his folly, as selfish, and almost undutifulto his father, who had freely trusted them with the two elders; butEdgar cut this short. 'No, no, my dear good governor. That won't do;Felix knows that if my father could have seen the results, he would tentimes rather have let us fight it out in the Irish cabin at home.'
'I am sure,' exclaimed Mrs. Underwood, 'we have done everything foryou, Edgar! It is enough to cure one of offering to do anything for anyone!'
'Just what I say,' was Edgar's grave response; but he added, with hisnatural sweetness, 'Not but that I believe, in the common herd, weshould have been, if anything, worse than we are now. We brought thebad drop with us. You did not infuse it.'
'Speak for yourself, Edgar,' said Marilda, rushing to the defence, asusual.
So the family was only represented by two sisters and one brother atthe wedding, which was solemnized by Mr. Murray at the parish church,and was a regular common-place smart affair, with carriages, favours,and crowds of spectators in much excitement to catch a sight of thebeautiful bride.
Murrays mustered in force, and Mrs. Underwood's felicity was complete;for the titled uncle was so glad to see his Sister Mary happy abouther son, that he came in full state, and made a very gratifyingspeech all about nothing. While Wilmet thought of her own soldier onthe Neilgherry hills, and felt how widely her path and that of hertwin-sister must diverge. And Mr. Underwood enjoyed the compliments tothe 'more than father,' and congratulated himself on having truly donewell by poor Edward's child.
'I only wish he were here to see her!' he cried with an effusion ofalmost tearful delight, as he handed Lady Vanderkist to her carriage.
The Pillars of the House; Or, Under Wode, Under Rode, Vol. 2 (of 2) Page 4