CHAPTER VI
Frank Gresham's Early Loves
It was, we have said, the first of July, and such being the time ofthe year, the ladies, after sitting in the drawing-room for half anhour or so, began to think that they might as well go through thedrawing-room windows on to the lawn. First one slipped out a littleway, and then another; and then they got on to the lawn; and thenthey talked of their hats; till, by degrees, the younger ones of theparty, and at last of the elder also, found themselves dressed forwalking.
The windows, both of the drawing-room and the dining-room, looked outon to the lawn; and it was only natural that the girls should walkfrom the former to the latter. It was only natural that they, beingthere, should tempt their swains to come to them by the sight oftheir broad-brimmed hats and evening dresses; and natural, also, thatthe temptation should not be resisted. The squire, therefore, and theelder male guests soon found themselves alone round their wine.
"Upon my word, we were enchanted by your eloquence, Mr Gresham, werewe not?" said Miss Oriel, turning to one of the de Courcy girls whowas with her.
Miss Oriel was a very pretty girl; a little older than FrankGresham,--perhaps a year or so. She had dark hair, large round darkeyes, a nose a little too broad, a pretty mouth, a beautiful chin,and, as we have said before, a large fortune;--that is, moderatelylarge--let us say twenty thousand pounds, there or thereabouts.She and her brother had been living at Greshamsbury for the lasttwo years, the living having been purchased for him--such wereMr Gresham's necessities--during the lifetime of the last oldincumbent. Miss Oriel was in every respect a nice neighbour; she wasgood-humoured, lady-like, lively, neither too clever nor too stupid,belonging to a good family, sufficiently fond of this world's goodthings, as became a pretty young lady so endowed, and sufficientlyfond, also, of the other world's good things, as became the mistressof a clergyman's house.
"Indeed, yes," said the Lady Margaretta. "Frank is very eloquent.When he described our rapid journey from London, he nearly moved meto tears. But well as he talks, I think he carves better."
"I wish you'd had to do it, Margaretta; both the carving andtalking."
"Thank you, Frank; you're very civil."
"But there's one comfort, Miss Oriel; it's over now, and done. Afellow can't be made to come of age twice."
"But you'll take your degree, Mr Gresham; and then, of course,there'll be another speech; and then you'll get married, and therewill be two or three more."
"I'll speak at your wedding, Miss Oriel, long before I do at my own."
"I shall not have the slightest objection. It will be so kind of youto patronise my husband."
"But, by Jove, will he patronise me? I know you'll marry some awfulbigwig, or some terribly clever fellow; won't she, Margaretta?"
"Miss Oriel was saying so much in praise of you before you came out,"said Margaretta, "that I began to think that her mind was intent onremaining at Greshamsbury all her life."
Frank blushed, and Patience laughed. There was but a year'sdifference in their age; Frank, however, was still a boy, thoughPatience was fully a woman.
"I am ambitious, Lady Margaretta," said she. "I own it; but I ammoderate in my ambition. I do love Greshamsbury, and if Mr Greshamhad a younger brother, perhaps, you know--"
"Another just like myself, I suppose," said Frank.
"Oh, yes. I could not possibly wish for any change."
"Just as eloquent as you are, Frank," said the Lady Margaretta.
"And as good a carver," said Patience.
"Miss Bateson has lost her heart to him for ever, because of hiscarving," said the Lady Margaretta.
"But perfection never repeats itself," said Patience.
"Well, you see, I have not got any brothers," said Frank; "so all Ican do is to sacrifice myself."
"Upon my word, Mr Gresham, I am under more than ordinary obligationsto you; I am indeed," and Miss Oriel stood still in the path, andmade a very graceful curtsy. "Dear me! only think, Lady Margaretta,that I should be honoured with an offer from the heir the very momenthe is legally entitled to make one."
"And done with so much true gallantry, too," said the other;"expressing himself quite willing to postpone any views of his own oryour advantage."
"Yes," said Patience; "that's what I value so much: had he loved menow, there would have been no merit on his part; but a sacrifice, youknow--"
"Yes, ladies are so fond of such sacrifices, Frank, upon my word, Ihad no idea you were so very excellent at making speeches."
"Well," said Frank, "I shouldn't have said sacrifice, that was aslip; what I meant was--"
"Oh, dear me," said Patience, "wait a minute; now we are goingto have a regular declaration. Lady Margaretta, you haven't gota scent-bottle, have you? And if I should faint, where's thegarden-chair?"
"Oh, but I'm not going to make a declaration at all," said Frank.
"Are you not? Oh! Now, Lady Margaretta, I appeal to you; did you notunderstand him to say something very particular?"
"Certainly, I thought nothing could be plainer," said the LadyMargaretta.
"And so, Mr Gresham, I am to be told, that after all it meansnothing," said Patience, putting her handkerchief up to her eyes.
"It means that you are an excellent hand at quizzing a fellow likeme."
"Quizzing! No; but you are an excellent hand at deceiving a poorgirl like me. Well, remember I have got a witness; here is LadyMargaretta, who heard it all. What a pity it is that my brother isa clergyman. You calculated on that, I know; or you would never hadserved me so."
She said so just as her brother joined them, or rather just as hehad joined Lady Margaretta de Courcy; for her ladyship and Mr Orielwalked on in advance by themselves. Lady Margaretta had found itrather dull work, making a third in Miss Oriel's flirtation with hercousin; the more so as she was quite accustomed to take a principalpart herself in all such transactions. She therefore not unwillinglywalked on with Mr Oriel. Mr Oriel, it must be conceived, was not acommon, everyday parson, but had points about him which made himquite fit to associate with an earl's daughter. And as it was knownthat he was not a marrying man, having very exalted ideas on thatpoint connected with his profession, the Lady Margaretta, of course,had the less objection to trust herself alone with him.
But directly she was gone, Miss Oriel's tone of banter ceased. It wasvery well making a fool of a lad of twenty-one when others were by;but there might be danger in it when they were alone together.
"I don't know any position on earth more enviable than yours, MrGresham," said she, quite soberly and earnestly; "how happy you oughtto be."
"What, in being laughed at by you, Miss Oriel, for pretending to bea man, when you choose to make out that I am only a boy? I can bearto be laughed at pretty well generally, but I can't say that yourlaughing at me makes me feel so happy as you say I ought to be."
Frank was evidently of an opinion totally different from that of MissOriel. Miss Oriel, when she found herself _tete-a-tete_ with him,thought it was time to give over flirting; Frank, however, imaginedthat it was just the moment for him to begin. So he spoke and lookedvery languishing, and put on him quite the airs of an Orlando.
"Oh, Mr Gresham, such good friends as you and I may laugh at eachother, may we not?"
"You may do what you like, Miss Oriel: beautiful women I believealways may; but you remember what the spider said to the fly, 'Thatwhich is sport to you, may be death to me.'" Anyone looking atFrank's face as he said this, might well have imagined that he wasbreaking his very heart for love of Miss Oriel. Oh, Master Frank!Master Frank! if you act thus in the green leaf, what will you do inthe dry?
While Frank Gresham was thus misbehaving himself, and going on asthough to him belonged the privilege of falling in love with prettyfaces, as it does to ploughboys and other ordinary people, his greatinterests were not forgotten by those guardian saints who were soanxious to shower down on his head all manner of temporal blessings.
Another conversation had taken place in
the Greshamsbury gardens,in which nothing light had been allowed to present itself; nothingfrivolous had been spoken. The countess, the Lady Arabella, and MissGresham had been talking over Greshamsbury affairs, and they hadlatterly been assisted by the Lady Amelia, than whom no de Courcyever born was more wise, more solemn, more prudent, or more proud.The ponderosity of her qualifications for nobility was sometimes toomuch even for her mother, and her devotion to the peerage was such,that she would certainly have declined a seat in heaven if offered toher without the promise that it should be in the upper house.
The subject first discussed had been Augusta's prospects. Mr Moffathad been invited to Courcy Castle, and Augusta had been taken thitherto meet him, with the express intention on the part of the countess,that they should be man and wife. The countess had been careful tomake it intelligible to her sister-in-law and niece, that though MrMoffat would do excellently well for a daughter of Greshamsbury, hecould not be allowed to raise his eyes to a female scion of CourcyCastle.
"Not that we personally dislike him," said the Lady Amelia; "but rankhas its drawbacks, Augusta." As the Lady Amelia was now somewhatnearer forty than thirty, and was still allowed to walk,
"In maiden meditation, fancy free,"
it may be presumed that in her case rank had been found to haveserious drawbacks.
To this Augusta said nothing in objection. Whether desirable by ade Courcy or not, the match was to be hers, and there was no doubtwhatever as to the wealth of the man whose name she was to take; theoffer had been made, not to her, but to her aunt; the acceptancehad been expressed, not by her, but by her aunt. Had she thought ofrecapitulating in her memory all that had ever passed between MrMoffat and herself, she would have found that it did not amount tomore than the most ordinary conversation between chance partnersin a ball-room. Nevertheless, she was to be Mrs Moffat. All that MrGresham knew of him was, that when he met the young man for the firstand only time in his life, he found him extremely hard to deal within the matter of money. He had insisted on having ten thousand poundswith his wife, and at last refused to go on with the match unlesshe got six thousand pounds. This latter sum the poor squire hadundertaken to pay him.
Mr Moffat had been for a year or two M.P. for Barchester; havingbeen assisted in his views on that ancient city by all the deCourcy interest. He was a Whig, of course. Not only had Barchester,departing from the light of other days, returned a Whig member ofParliament, but it was declared, that at the next election, now nearat hand, a Radical would be sent up, a man pledged to the ballot, toeconomies of all sorts, one who would carry out Barchester politicsin all their abrupt, obnoxious, pestilent virulence. This was oneScatcherd, a great railway contractor, a man who was a native ofBarchester, who had bought property in the neighbourhood, and who hadachieved a sort of popularity there and elsewhere by the violence ofhis democratic opposition to the aristocracy. According to this man'spolitical tenets, the Conservatives should be laughed at as fools,but the Whigs should be hated as knaves.
Mr Moffat was now coming down to Courcy Castle to look after hiselectioneering interests, and Miss Gresham was to return with heraunt to meet him. The countess was very anxious that Frank shouldalso accompany them. Her great doctrine, that he must marry money,had been laid down with authority, and received without doubt. Shenow pushed it further, and said that no time should be lost; thathe should not only marry money, but do so very early in life; therewas always danger in delay. The Greshams--of course she alluded onlyto the males of the family--were foolishly soft-hearted; no onecould say what might happen. There was that Miss Thorne always atGreshamsbury.
This was more than the Lady Arabella could stand. She protestedthat there was at least no ground for supposing that Frank wouldabsolutely disgrace his family.
Still the countess persisted: "Perhaps not," she said; "but whenyoung people of perfectly different ranks were allowed to associatetogether, there was no saying what danger might arise. They all knewthat old Mr Bateson--the present Mr Bateson's father--had gone offwith the governess; and young Mr Everbeery, near Taunton, had onlythe other day married a cook-maid."
"But Mr Everbeery was always drunk, aunt," said Augusta, feelingcalled upon to say something for her brother.
"Never mind, my dear; these things do happen, and they are verydreadful."
"Horrible!" said the Lady Amelia; "diluting the best blood of thecountry, and paving the way for revolutions." This was very grand;but, nevertheless, Augusta could not but feel that she perhaps mightbe about to dilute the blood of her coming children in marrying thetailor's son. She consoled herself by trusting that, at any rate, shepaved the way for no revolutions.
"When a thing is so necessary," said the countess, "it cannot be donetoo soon. Now, Arabella, I don't say that anything will come of it;but it may: Miss Dunstable is coming down to us next week. Now, weall know that when old Dunstable died last year, he left over twohundred thousand to his daughter."
"It is a great deal of money, certainly," said Lady Arabella.
"It would pay off everything, and a great deal more," said thecountess.
"It was ointment, was it not, aunt?" said Augusta.
"I believe so, my dear; something called the ointment of Lebanon, orsomething of that sort: but there's no doubt about the money."
"But how old is she, Rosina?" asked the anxious mother.
"About thirty, I suppose; but I don't think that much signifies."
"Thirty," said Lady Arabella, rather dolefully. "And what is shelike? I think that Frank already begins to like girls that are youngand pretty."
"But surely, aunt," said the Lady Amelia, "now that he has come toman's discretion, he will not refuse to consider all that he owes tohis family. A Mr Gresham of Greshamsbury has a position to support."The de Courcy scion spoke these last words in the sort of tone that aparish clergyman would use, in warning some young farmer's son thathe should not put himself on an equal footing with the ploughboys.
It was at last decided that the countess should herself convey toFrank a special invitation to Courcy Castle, and that when she gothim there, she should do all that lay in her power to prevent hisreturn to Cambridge, and to further the Dunstable marriage.
"We did think of Miss Dunstable for Porlock, once," she said,naively; "but when we found that it wasn't much over two hundredthousand, why, that idea fell to the ground." The terms on which thede Courcy blood might be allowed to dilute itself were, it must bepresumed, very high indeed.
Augusta was sent off to find her brother, and to send him to thecountess in the small drawing-room. Here the countess was to haveher tea, apart from the outer common world, and here, withoutinterruption, she was to teach her great lesson to her nephew.
Augusta did find her brother, and found him in the worst of badsociety--so at least the stern de Courcys would have thought. Old MrBateson and the governess, Mr Everbeery and his cook's diluted blood,and ways paved for revolutions, all presented themselves to Augusta'smind when she found her brother walking with no other company thanMary Thorne, and walking with her, too, in much too close proximity.
How he had contrived to be off with the old love and so soon on withthe new, or rather, to be off with the new love and again on with theold, we will not stop to inquire. Had Lady Arabella, in truth, knownall her son's doings in this way, could she have guessed how verynigh he had approached the iniquity of old Mr Bateson, and to thefolly of young Mr Everbeery, she would in truth have been in a hurryto send him off to Courcy Castle and Miss Dunstable. Some daysbefore the commencement of our story, young Frank had sworn in soberearnest--in what he intended for his most sober earnest, his mostearnest sobriety--that he loved Mary Thorne with a love for whichwords could find no sufficient expression--with a love that couldnever die, never grow dim, never become less, which no opposition onthe part of others could extinguish, which no opposition on her partcould repel; that he might, could, would, and should have her for hiswife, and that if she told him she didn't love him, he would--
&n
bsp; "Oh, oh! Mary; do you love me? Don't you love me? Won't you love me?Say you will. Oh, Mary, dearest Mary, will you? won't you? do you?don't you? Come now, you have a right to give a fellow an answer."
With such eloquence had the heir of Greshamsbury, when not yettwenty-one years of age, attempted to possess himself of theaffections of the doctor's niece. And yet three days afterwards hewas quite ready to flirt with Miss Oriel.
If such things are done in the green wood, what will be done in thedry?
And what had Mary said when these fervent protestations of an undyinglove had been thrown at her feet? Mary, it must be remembered, wasvery nearly of the same age as Frank; but, as I and others have sooften said before, "Women grow on the sunny side of the wall." ThoughFrank was only a boy, it behoved Mary to be something more than agirl. Frank might be allowed, without laying himself open to muchjust reproach, to throw all of what he believed to be his heart intoa protestation of what he believed to be love; but Mary was in dutybound to be more thoughtful, more reticent, more aware of the factsof their position, more careful of her own feelings, and more carefulalso of his.
And yet she could not put him down as another young lady might putdown another young gentleman. It is very seldom that a young man,unless he be tipsy, assumes an unwelcome familiarity in his earlyacquaintance with any girl; but when acquaintance has been long andintimate, familiarity must follow as a matter of course. Frank andMary had been so much together in his holidays, had so constantlyconsorted together as boys and girls, that, as regarded her, he hadnot that innate fear of a woman which represses a young man's tongue;and she was so used to his good-humour, his fun, and high jovialspirits, and was, withal, so fond of them and him, that it was verydifficult for her to mark with accurate feeling, and stop withreserved brow, the shade of change from a boy's liking to a man'slove.
And Beatrice, too, had done harm in this matter. With a spiritpainfully unequal to that of her grand relatives, she had quizzedMary and Frank about their early flirtations. This she had done; buthad instinctively avoided doing so before her mother and sister, andhad thus made a secret of it, as it were, between herself, Mary, andher brother;--had given currency, as it were, to the idea that theremight be something serious between the two. Not that Beatrice hadever wished to promote a marriage between them, or had even thoughtof such a thing. She was girlish, thoughtless, imprudent, inartistic,and very unlike a de Courcy. Very unlike a de Courcy she was in allthat; but, nevertheless, she had the de Courcy veneration for blood,and, more than that, she had the Gresham feeling joined to that ofthe de Courcys. The Lady Amelia would not for worlds have had thede Courcy blood defiled; but gold she thought could not defile.Now Beatrice was ashamed of her sister's marriage, and had oftendeclared, within her own heart, that nothing could have made hermarry a Mr Moffat.
She had said so also to Mary, and Mary had told her that she wasright. Mary also was proud of blood, was proud of her uncle's blood,and the two girls talked together in all the warmth of girlishconfidence, of the great glories of family traditions and familyhonours. Beatrice had talked in utter ignorance as to her friend'sbirth; and Mary, poor Mary, she had talked, being as ignorant; butnot without a strong suspicion that, at some future time, a day ofsorrow would tell her some fearful truth.
On one point Mary's mind was strongly made up. No wealth, no mereworldly advantage could make any one her superior. If she were borna gentlewoman, then was she fit to match with any gentleman. Letthe most wealthy man in Europe pour all his wealth at her feet, shecould, if so inclined, give him back at any rate more than that.That offered at her feet she knew she would never tempt her to yieldup the fortress of her heart, the guardianship of her soul, thepossession of her mind; not that alone, nor that, even, as anypossible slightest fraction of a make-weight.
If she were born a gentlewoman! And then came to her mind thosecurious questions; what makes a gentleman? what makes a gentlewoman?What is the inner reality, the spiritualised quintessence of thatprivilege in the world which men call rank, which forces thethousands and hundreds of thousands to bow down before the few elect?What gives, or can give it, or should give it?
And she answered the question. Absolute, intrinsic, acknowledged,individual merit must give it to its possessor, let him be whom, andwhat, and whence he might. So far the spirit of democracy was strongwith her. Beyond this it could be had but by inheritance, receivedas it were second-hand, or twenty-second-hand. And so far the spiritof aristocracy was strong within her. All this she had, as may beimagined, learnt in early years from her uncle; and all this she wasat great pains to teach Beatrice Gresham, the chosen of her heart.
When Frank declared that Mary had a right to give him an answer,he meant that he had a right to expect one. Mary acknowledged thisright, and gave it to him.
"Mr Gresham," she said.
"Oh, Mary; Mr Gresham!"
"Yes, Mr Gresham. It must be Mr Gresham after that. And, moreover, itmust be Miss Thorne as well."
"I'll be shot if it shall, Mary."
"Well; I can't say that I shall be shot if it be not so; but if it benot so, if you do not agree that it shall be so, I shall be turnedout of Greshamsbury."
"What! you mean my mother?" said Frank.
"Indeed, I mean no such thing," said Mary, with a flash from her eyethat made Frank almost start. "I mean no such thing. I mean you, notyour mother. I am not in the least afraid of Lady Arabella; but I amafraid of you."
"Afraid of me, Mary!"
"Miss Thorne; pray, pray, remember. It must be Miss Thorne. Do notturn me out of Greshamsbury. Do not separate me from Beatrice. Itis you that will drive me out; no one else. I could stand my groundagainst your mother--I feel I could; but I cannot stand against youif you treat me otherwise than--than--"
"Otherwise than what? I want to treat you as the girl I have chosenfrom all the world as my wife."
"I am sorry you should so soon have found it necessary to make achoice. But, Mr Gresham, we must not joke about this at present. I amsure you would not willingly injure me; but if you speak to me, or ofme, again in that way, you will injure me, injure me so much that Ishall be forced to leave Greshamsbury in my own defence. I know youare too generous to drive me to that."
And so the interview had ended. Frank, of course, went upstairs tosee if his new pocket-pistols were all ready, properly cleaned,loaded, and capped, should he find, after a few days' experience,that prolonged existence was unendurable.
However, he managed to live through the subsequent period; doubtlesswith a view of preventing any disappointment to his father's guests.
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