The Heir of Redclyffe

by Шарлотта Мэри Йондж

  Eveleen agreed with Charlotte that this was a great deal too bad, admired Guy, and pitied Amy to her heart's content.

  'So, he was banished, regularly banished!' said she. 'However of course Amy never gave him up.'

  'Oh, she never mistrusted him one minute.'

  'And while he had her fast, it was little he would care for the rest.'

  'Yes, if he had known it, but she could not tell him.'

  Eveleen looked arch.

  'But I am sure she did not,' said Charlotte, rather angrily.

  'You know nothing about it, my dear.'

  'Yes, but I do; for mamma said to Charlie how beautifully she did behave, and he too,--never attempting any intercourse.'

  'Very good of you to believe it.'

  'I am sure of it, certain sure,' said Charlotte. 'How could you venture to think they would either of them do anything wrong?'

  'I did not say they would.'

  'What, not to write to each other when papa had forbidden it, and do it in secret, too?'

  'My dear, don't look so innocently irate. Goodness has nothing to do with it, it would be only a moderate constancy. You know nothing at all of lovers.'

  'If I know nothing of lovers, I know a great deal of Amy and Guy, and I am quite sure that nothing on earth would tempt them to do anything in secret that they were forbidden.'

  'Wait till you are in love, and you'll change your mind.'

  'I never mean to be in love,' said Charlotte indignantly. Eveleen laughed the more, Charlotte grew more angry and uncomfortable at the tone of the conversation, and was heartily glad that it was broken off by the entrance of the gentlemen. Guy helped Charles to the sofa, and then turned away to continue his endless talk on Redclyffe business with Markham. Charlotte flew up to the sofa, seized an interval when no one was in hearing, and kneeling down to bring her face on a level with her brother's whispered--'Charlie, Eva won't believe but that Guy and Amy kept up some intercourse last winter.'

  'I can't help it, Charlotte.'

  'When I tell her they did not, she only laughs at me. Do tell her they did not.'

  'I have too much self-respect to lay myself open to ridicule.'

  'Charlie, you don't think it possible yourself?' exclaimed Charlotte, in consternation.

  'Possible--no indeed.'

  'She will say it is not wrong, and that I know nothing of lovers.'

  'You should have told her that ours are not commonplace lovers, but far beyond her small experience.'

  'I wish I had! Tell her so, Charlie; she will believe you.'

  'I sha'n't say one word about it.'

  'Why not?'

  'Because she is not worthy. If she can't appreciate them, I would let her alone. I once thought better of Eva, but it is very bad company she keeps when she is not here.'

  Charles, however, was not sorry when Eveleen came to sit by him, for a bantering conversation with her was the occupation of which he was moat capable. Amy, returning, came and sat in her old place beside him, with her hand in his, and her quiet eyes fixed on the ground.

  The last evening for many weeks that she would thus sit with him,--the last that she would ever be a part of his home. She had already ceased to belong entirely to him; she who had always been the most precious to him, except his mother.

  Only his mother could have been a greater loss,--he could not dwell on the anticipation; and still holding her hand, he roused himself to listen, and answer gaily to Eveleen's description of the tutor, Mr. Fielder, 'a thorough gentleman, very clever and agreeable, who had read all the books in the world; the ugliest, yes, without exaggeration, the most quaintly ugly man living,--little, and looking just as if he was made of gutta percha, Eveleen said, 'always moving by jerks,--so Maurice advised the boys not to put him near the fire, lest he should melt.'

  'Only when he gives them some formidable lesson, and they want to melt his heart,' said Charles, talking at random, in hopes of saying something laughable.

  'Then his eyes--'tis not exactly a squint, but a cast there is, and one set of eyelashes are black and the other light, and that gives him just the air of a little frightful terrier of Maurice's named Venus, with a black spot over one eye. The boys never call him anything but Venus.'

  'And you encourage them in respect for their tutor?'

  'Oh, he holds his own at lessons, I trow; but he pretends to have such a horror of us wild Irish, and to wonder not to find us eating potatoes with our fingers, and that I don't wear a petticoat over my head instead of a bonnet, in what he calls the classical Carthaginian Celto- Hibernian fashion.'

  'Dear me,' said Charlotte, 'no wonder Philip recommended him.'

  '0, I assure you he has the gift, no one else but Captain Morville talks near as well.'

  So talked on Eveleen, and Charles answered her as much in her own fashion as he could, and when at last the evening came to an end, every one felt relieved.

  Laura lingered long in Amy's room, perceiving that hitherto she had known only half the value of her sister her sweet sister. It would be worse than ever now, when left with the others, all so much less sympathizing, all saying sharp things of Philip, none to cling to her with those winsome ways that had been unnoted till the time when they were no more to console her, and she felt them to have been the only charm that had softened her late dreary desolation.

  So full was her heart, that she must have told Amy all her grief but for the part that Philip had acted towards Guy, and her doubts of Guy would not allow her the consolation of dwelling on Amy's happiness, which cheered the rest. She could only hang about her in speechless grief, and caress her fondly, while Amy cried, and tried to comfort her, till her mother came to wish her good night.

  Mrs. Edmonstone did not stay long, because she wished Amy, if possible to rest.

  'Mamma' said Amy, as she received her last kiss, 'I can't think why I am not more unhappy.'

  'It is all as it should be,' said Mrs. Edmonstone.

  Amabel slept, and awakened to the knowledge that it was her wedding- day. She was not to appear at the first breakfast, but she came to meet Charles in the dressing-room; and as they sat together on the sofa, where she had watched and amused so many of his hours of helplessness, he clasped round her arm his gift,--a bracelet of his mother's hair. His fingers trembled and his eyes were hazy, but he would not let her help him. Her thanks were obliged to be all kisses, no words would come but 'Charlie; Charlie! how could I ever have promised to leave you?'

  'Nonsense! who ever dreamt that my sisters were to be three monkeys tied to a dog?'

  It was impossible not to smile, though it was but for a moment,-- Charles's mirth was melancholy.

  'And, dear Charlie, you will not miss me so very much; do pray let Charlotte wait upon you.'

  'After the first, perhaps, I may not hate her. Oh, Amy, I little knew what I was doing when I tried to get him back again for you. I was sawing off the bough I was sitting on. But there! I will not flatter you, you've had enough to turn that head of yours. Stand up, and let me take a survey. Very pretty, I declare,--you do my education credit. There, if it will be for your peace, I'll do my best to wear on without you. I've wanted a brother all my life, and you are giving me the very one I would have picked out of a thousand--the only one I could forgive for presuming to steal you, Amy. Here he is. Come in,' he added, as Guy knocked at his door, to offer to help him down-stairs.

  Guy hardly spoke, and Amy could not look in his face. It was late, and he took down Charles at once. After this, she had very little quiet, every one was buzzing about her, and putting the last touches to her dress; at last, just as she was quite finished, Charlotte exclaimed, 'Oh, there is Guy's step; may I call him in to have one look?'

  Mrs. Edmonstone did not say no; and Charlotte, opening the dressing- room door, called to him. He stood opposite to Amy for some moments, then said, with a smile, 'I was wrong about the grogram. I would not for anything see you look otherwise than you do.'

  It seemed to Mrs. Edmonstone and
Laura that these words made them lose sight of the details of lace and silk that had been occupying them, so that they only saw the radiance, purity, and innocence of Amy's bridal appearance. No more was said, for Mr. Edmonstone ran up to call Guy, who was to drive Charles in the pony-carriage.

  Amabel, of course, went with her parents. Poor child! her tears flowed freely on the way, and Mr. Edmonstone, now that it had really come to the point of parting with his little Amy, was very much overcome, while his wife, hardly refraining from tears, could only hold her daughter's hand very close.

  The regular morning service was a great comfort, by restoring their tranquillity, and by the time it was ended, Amabel's countenance had settled into its own calm expression of trust and serenity. She scarcely even trembled when her father led her forward; her hand did not shake, and her voice, though very low, was firm and audible, while Guy's deep, sweet tones had a sort of thrill and quiver of intense feeling.

  No one could help observing that Laura was the most agitated person present; she trembled so much that she was obliged to lean on Charlotte, and her tears gave the infection to the other bridesmaids-- all but Mary Ross, who could never cry when other people did, and little Marianne, who did nothing but look and wonder.

  Mary was feeling a great deal, both of compassion for the bereaved family and of affectionate admiring joy for the young pair who knelt before the altar. It was a showery day, with gleams of vivid sunshine, and one of these suddenly broke forth, casting a stream of colour from a martyr's figure in the south window, so as to shed a golden glory on the wave of brown hair over Guy's forehead, then passing on and tinting the bride's white veil with a deep glowing shade of crimson and purple.

  Either that golden light, or the expression of the face on which it beamed, made Mary think of the lines--

  Where is the brow to wear in mortal's sight, The crown of pure angelic light?

  Charles stood with his head leaning against a pillar as if he could not bear to look up; Mr. Edmonstone was restless and almost sobbing; Mrs. Edmonstone alone collected, though much flushed and somewhat trembling, while the only person apparently free from excitement was the little bride, as there she knelt, her hand clasped in his, her head bent down, her modest, steadfast face looking as if she was only conscious of the vow she exchanged, the blessing she received, and was, as it were, lifted out of herself.

  It was over now. The feast, in its fullest sense, was held, and the richest of blessings had been called down on them.

  The procession came out of the vestry in full order, and very pretty it was; the bride and bridegroom in the fresh bright graciousness of their extreme youth, and the six bridesmaids following; Laura and Lady Eveleen, two strikingly handsome and elegant girls; Charlotte, with the pretty little fair Marianne; Mary Ross, and Grace Harper. The village people who stood round might well say that such a sight as that was worth coming twenty miles to see.

  The first care, after the bridal pair had driven off, was to put Charles into his pony-carriage. Charlotte, who had just pinned on his favour, begged to drive him, for she meant to make him her especial charge, and to succeed to all Amy's rights. Mrs. Edmonstone asked whether Laura would not prefer going with him, but she hastily answered,

  'No, thank you, let Charlotte;' for with her troubled feelings, she could better answer talking girls than parry the remarks of her shrewd, observant brother.

  Some one said it would rain, but Charlotte still pleaded earnestly.

  'Come, then, puss,' said Charles, rallying his spirits, 'only don't upset me, or it will spoil their tour.'

  Charlotte drove off with elaborate care,--then came a deep sigh, and she exclaimed, 'Well! he is our brother, and all is safe.'

  'Yes,' said Charles; 'no more fears for them.'

  'Had you any? I am very glad if you had.'

  'Why?'

  'Because it was so like a book. I had a sort of feeling, all the time, that Philip would come in quite grand and terrible.'

  'As if he must act Ogre. I am not sure that I had not something of the same notion,--that he might appear suddenly, and forbid the banns, entirely for Amy's sake, and as the greatest kindness to her.'

  'Oh!'

  'However, he can't separate them now; let him do his worst, and while Amy is Guy's wife, I don't think we shall easily be made to quarrel. I am glad the knot is tied, for I had a fatality notion that the feud was so strong, that it was nearly a case of the mountains bending and the streams ascending, ere she was to be our foeman's bride.'

  'No,' said Charlotte, 'it ought to be like that story of Rosaura and her kindred, don't you remember? The fate would not be appeased by the marriage, till Count Julius had saved the life of one of the hostile race. That would be it,--perhaps they will meet abroad, and Guy will do it.'

  'That won't do. Philip will never endanger his precious life, nor ever forgive Guy the obligation. Well, I suppose there never was a prettier wedding--how silly of me to say so, I shall be sick of hearing it before night.'

  'I do wish all these people were gone; I did not know it would be so horrid. I should like to shut myself up and cry, and think what I could ever do to wait on you. Indeed, Charlie, I know I never can be like Amy but if you--'

  'Be anything but sentimental; I don't want to make a fool of myself' said Charles, with a smile and tone as if he was keeping sorrow at bay. 'Depend upon it if we were left to ourselves this evening, we should be so desperately savage that we should quarrel furiously, and there would be no Amy to set us to rights.'

  'How Aunt Charlotte did cry! What a funny little woman she is.'

  'Yes, I see now who you take after, puss. You'll be just like her when you are her age.'

  'So I mean to be,--I mean to stay and take care of you all my life, as she does of grandmamma.'

  'You do, do you?'

  'Yes. I never mean to marry, it is so disagreeable. 0 dear! But how lovely dear Amy did look.'

  'Here's the rain!' exclaimed Charles, as some large drops began to fall in good time to prevent them from being either savage or sentimental, though at the expense of Charlotte's pink and white; for they had no umbrella, and she would not accept a share of Charles's carriage-cloak. She laughed, and drove on fast through the short cut, and arrived at the house-door, just as the pelting hail was over, having battered her thin sleeves, and made her white bonnet look very deplorable. The first thing they saw was Guy, with Bustle close to him, for Bustle had found out that something was going on that concerned his master, and followed him about more assiduously than ever, as if sensible of the decree, that he was to be left behind to Charlotte's care.

  'Charlotte, how wet you are.'

  'Never mind, Charlie is not.' She sprung out, holding his hand, and felt as if she could never forget that moment when her new brother first kissed her brow.

  'Where's Amy?'

  'Here!' and while Guy lifted Charles out, Charlotte was clasped in her sister's arms.

  'Are you wet, Charlie?'

  'No, Charlotte would not be wise, and made me keep the cloak to myself.'

  'You are wet through, poor child; come up at once, and change,' said Amy, flying nimbly up the stairs,--up even to Charlotte's own room, the old nursery, and there she was unfastening the drenched finery.

  '0 Amy, don't do all this. Let me ring.'

  'No, the servants are either not come home or are too busy. Charles won't want me, he has Guy. Can I find your white frock?'

  'Oh, but Amy--let me see!' Charlotte made prisoner the left hand, and looked up with an arch smile at the face where she had called up a blush. 'Lady Morville must not begin by being lady's-maid.'

  'Let me--let me, Charlotte, dear, I sha'n't be able to do anything for you this long time.' Amy's voice trembled, and Charlotte held her fast to kiss her again.

  'We must make haste,' said Amy, recovering herself. 'There are the carriages.'

  While the frock was being fastened, Charlotte looked into the Prayer- book Amy had laid down. There was the name, Amabel Fr
ances Morville, and the date.

  'Has he just written it?' said Charlotte.

  'Yes; when we came home.'

  '0 Amy! dear, dear Amy; I don't know whether I am glad or sorry!'

  'I believe I am both,' said Amy.

  At that moment Mrs. Edmonstone and Laura hastened in. Then was the time for broken words, tears and smiles, as Amy leant against her mother, who locked her in a close embrace, and gazed on her in a sort of trance, at once of maternal pride and of pain, at giving up her cherished nestling. Poor Laura! how bitter were her tears, and how forced her smiles,--far unlike the rest!

  No one would care to hear the details of the breakfast, and the splendours of the cake; how Charlotte recovered her spirits while distributing the favours: and Lady Eveleen set up a flirtation with Markham, and forced him into wearing one, though he protested, with many a grunt, that she was making a queer fool of him; how often Charles was obliged to hear it had been a pretty wedding; and how well Lord Kilcoran made his speech proposing the health of Sir Guy and Lady Morville. All the time, Laura was active and useful,--feeling as if she was acting a play, sustaining the character of Miss Edmonstone, the bridesmaid at her sister's happy marriage; while the true Laura, Philip's Laura, was lonely, dejected, wretched; half fearing for her sister, half jealous of her happiness, forced into pageantry with an aching heart,--with only one wish, that it was over, and that she might be again alone with her burden.

  She was glad when her mother rose, and the ladies moved into the drawing-room,--glad to escape from Eveleen's quick eye, and to avoid Mary's clear sense,--glad to talk to comparative strangers,--glad of the occupation of going to prepare Amabel for her journey. This lasted a long time,--there was so much to be said, and hearts were so full, and Amy over again explained to Charlotte how to perform all the little services to Charles which she relinquished; while her mother had so many affectionate last words, and every now and then stopped short to look at her little daughter, saying, she did not know if it was not a dream.