CHAPTER XXVI.
Our readers may think that Humphrey was very unkind, but it was toavoid being questioned by Clara, who was evidently sent for thepurpose, that he was so harsh. At the same time it must be admitted,that Mr. Heatherstone having obtained possession of Arnwood, rankled,no doubt, in the minds of both the brothers, and every act now, on thepart of him or his family, was viewed in a false medium. But ourfeelings are not always at our control, and Edward was naturallyimpetuous, and Humphrey so much attached, and so much alarmed at hisbrother's danger, that he was even more excited. The blow fell doublyheavy, as it appeared that at the very same time Patience had rejectedhis brother, and taken possession of their property, which had beenheld by the family for centuries. What made the case more annoying was,that explanation, if there was any to offer on either side, was, underpresent circumstances, almost impossible.
Soon after Clara left him, Humphrey returned to his brother's room. Hefound him awake and talking to Oswald. Ardently pressing his brother'shand, Edward said--
"My dear Humphrey, I shall soon be well now, and able, I trust, to quitthis house. What I fear is, that some explanation will be asked for bythe intendant, not only relative to my sisters having left us, but alsoupon other points. This is what I wish to avoid without giving offense.I do not think that the intendant is so much to blame in havingobtained my property, as he does not know that a Beverley existed; butI can not bear to have any further intimacy with him, especially afterwhat has taken place between me and his daughter. What I have torequest is, that you will never quit this room while I am still hereunless you are relieved by Oswald; so that the intendant or any bodyelse may have no opportunity of having any private communication withme, or forcing me to listen to what they may have to say. I made thisknown to Oswald before you came in."
"Depend upon it, it shall be so, Edward, for I am of your opinion.Clara came to me just now, and I had much trouble, and was compelled tobe harsh, to get rid of her importunity."
When the surgeon called, he pronounced Edward out of danger, and thathis attendance would be no longer necessary. Edward felt the truth ofthis. All that he required was strength; and that he trusted in a fewdays to obtain.
Oswald was sent over to the cottage, to ascertain how Pablo was goingon by himself. He found that every thing was correct, and that Pablo,although he felt proud of his responsibility, was very anxious forHumphrey's return, as he found himself very lonely. During Oswald'sabsence on this day, Humphrey never quitted the room; and although theintendant came up several times, he never could find an opportunity ofspeaking to Edward, which he evidently wished to do.
To the inquiries made as to how he was, Edward always complained ofgreat weakness, for a reason which will soon be understood. Severaldays elapsed, and Edward had often been out of bed during the night,when not likely to be intruded upon, and he now felt himself strongenough to be removed; and his object was to leave the intendant's housewithout his knowledge, so as to avoid an explanation.
One evening Pablo came over with the horses after it was dark. Oswaldput them into the stable; and the morning proving fine and clear, alittle before break of day, Edward came softly down stairs withHumphrey, and, mounting the horses, set off for the cottage, withoutany one in the intendant's house being aware of their departure.
It must not be supposed, however, that Edward took this step withoutsome degree of consideration as to the feelings of the intendant. Onthe contrary, he left a letter with Oswald, to be delivered after hisdeparture, in which he thanked the intendant sincerely for all thekindness and compassion he had shown toward him; assured him of hisgratitude and kind feelings toward him and his daughter, but said thatcircumstances had occurred, of which no explanation could be givenwithout great pain to all parties, which rendered it advisable that heshould take such an apparently unkind step as to leave without biddingthem farewell in person; that he was about to embark immediately forthe Continent, to seek his fortune in the wars; and that he wished allprosperity to the family, which would ever have his kindest wishes andremembrances.
"Humphrey," said Edward, after they had ridden about two miles acrossthe forest, and the sun had risen in an unclouded sky, "I feel like anemancipated slave. Thank God! my sickness has cured me of all mycomplaints, and all I want now is active employment. And now, Humphrey,Chaloner and Grenville are not a little tired of being mured up in thecottage, and I am as anxious as they are to be off. What will you do?Will you join us, or will you remain at the cottage?"
"I have reflected upon it, Edward, and I have come to the determinationof remaining at the cottage. You will find it expensive enough tosupport one where you are going, and you must appear as a Beverleyshould do. We have plenty of money saved to equip you, and maintain youwell for a year or so, but after that you may require more. Leave mehere. I can make money now that the farm is well stocked; and I have nodoubt that I shall be able to send over a trifle every year, to supportthe honor of the family. Besides, I do not wish to leave this foranother reason. I want to know what is going on, and watch the motionsof the intendant and the heiress of Arnwood. I also do not wish toleave the country until I know how my sisters get on with the LadiesConynghame: it is my duty to watch over them. I have made up my mind,so do not attempt to dissuade me."
"I shall not, my dear Humphrey, as I think you have decided properly;but I beg you will not think of laying by money for me-a very littlewill suffice for my wants."
"Not so, good brother; you must and shall, if I can help you, ruffle itwith the best. You will be better received if you do; for, thoughpoverty is no sin, as the saying is, it is scouted as sin should be,while sins are winked at. You know that I require no money, and,therefore, you must and shall, if you love me, take it all."
"As you will, my dear Humphrey. Now then, let us put our horses tospeed, for, if possible, we will, to-morrow morning, leave the forest."
By this time all search for the fugitives from Worcester had long beenover, and there was no difficulty in obtaining the means ofembarkation. Early the next morning every thing was ready, and Edward,Humphrey, Chaloner, Grenville, and Pablo set off for Southampton, oneof the horses carrying the little baggage which they had with them.Edward, as we have before mentioned, with the money he had saved, andthe store at the cottage, which had been greatly increased, was wellsupplied with cash; and that evening they embarked, with their horses,in a small sailing vessel, and, with a favorable, light wind, arrivedat a small port of France on the following day. Humphrey and Pabloreturned to the cottage, we need hardly now say, very much out ofspirits at the separation.
"Oh, Massa Humphrey," said Pablo, as they rode along, "Missy Alice andMissy Edith go away-I wish go with them. Massa Edward go away--I wishgo with him. You stay at cottage--I wish stay with you. Pablo can notbe in three places."
"No, Pablo; all you can do is to stay where you can be most useful."
"Yes, I know that. You want me at cottage very much. Missy Alice andEdith and Massa Edward no want me, so I stay at cottage."
"Yes, Pablo, we will stay at the cottage, but we can't do every thingnow. I think we must give up the dairy, now that my sisters are gone.I'll tell you what I have been thinking of, Pablo. We will make a largeinclosed place, to coax the ponies into during the winter, pick out asmany as we think are good, and sell them at Lymington. That will bebetter than churning butter."
"Yes, I see; plenty of work for Pablo."
"And plenty for me, too, Pablo; but you know when the inclosure is oncemade it will last for a long while; and we will get the wild cattleinto it if we can."
"Yes, I see," said Pablo. "I like that very much; only not like troubleto build place."
"We shan't have much trouble, Pablo; if we fell the trees inside thewood at each side, and let them lie one upon the other, the animalswill never break through them."
"That very good idea--save trouble," said Pablo. "And what you do withcows, suppose no make butter?"
"Keep them, and sell their calves; keep the
m to entice the wild cattleinto the pen."
"Yes, that good. And turn out old Billy to 'tice ponies into pen,"continued Pablo, laughing.
"Yes, we will try it."
We must now return to the intendant's house. Oswald delivered theletter to the intendant, who read it with much astonishment.
"Gone! is he actually gone?" said Mr. Heatherstone.
"Yes, sir, before daylight this morning."
"And why was I not informed of it?" said Mr. Heatherstone; "why haveyou been a party to this proceeding, being my servant?--may I inquirethat?"
"I knew Master Edward before I knew you, sir," replied Oswald.
"Then you had better follow him," rejoined the intendant, in an angrytone.
"Very well, sir," replied Oswald, who quitted the room.
"Good Heaven! how all my plans have been frustrated!" exclaimed theintendant, when he was alone. He then read the letter over morecarefully than he had done at first. "'Circumstances had occurred ofwhich no explanation could be given by him.' I do not comprehendthat--I must see Patience."
Mr. Heatherstone opened the door, and called to his daughter.
"Patience," said Mr. Heatherstone, "Edward has left the house thismorning; here is a letter which he has written to me. Read it, and letme know if you can explain some portion of it, which to me isincomprehensible. Sit down and read it attentively."
Patience, who was much agitated, gladly took the seat and perusedEdward's letter. When she had done so, she let it drop in her lap andcovered all her face, the tears trickling through her fingers. After atime, the intendant said,
"Patience, has any thing passed between you and Edward Armitage?"
Patience made no reply, but sobbed aloud. She might not have shown somuch emotion, but it must be remembered that for the last three weekssince Edward had spoken to her, and during his subsequent illness, shehad been very unhappy. The reserve of Humphrey, the expressions he hadmade use of, his repulse of Clara, and her not having seen anything ofEdward during his illness, added to his sudden and unexpected departurewithout a word to her, had broken her spirits, and she sank beneath theload of sorrow.
The intendant left her to recover herself before he again addressedher. When she had ceased sobbing, her father spoke to her in a verykind voice, begging her that she would not conceal any thing from him,as it was most important to him that the real facts should be known.
"Now tell me, my child, what passed between Edward and you."
"He told me, just before you came up to us that evening, that he lovedme."
"And what was your reply?"
"I hardly know, my dear father, what it was that I said. I did not liketo be unkind to one who saved my life, and I did not choose to say whatI thought because--because--because he was of low birth; and how couldI give encouragement to the son of a forester without your permission?"
"Then you rejected him?"
"I suppose I did, or that he considered that I did so. He had a secretof importance that he would have confided to me had you not interruptedus."
"And now, Patience, I must request you to answer me one questioncandidly. I do not blame you for your conduct, which was correct underthe circumstances. I also had a secret which I perhaps ought to haveconfided; but I did consider that the confidence and paternal kindnesswith which I treated Edward would have been sufficient to point out toyou that I could not have been very averse to a union; indeed, thefreedom of communication which I allowed between you, must have toldyou so: but your sense of duty and propriety has made you act as youought to have done, I grant, although contrary to my real wishes."
"Your wishes, my father?" said Patience.
"Yes--my wishes; there is nothing that I so ardently desired as a unionbetween you and Edward; but I wished you to love him for his ownmerits."
"I have done so, father," replied Patience, sobbing again, "although Idid not tell him so."
The intendant remained silent for some time, and then said,
"There is no cause for further concealment, Patience; I have only toregret that I was not more explicit sooner. I have long suspected, andhave since been satisfied, that Edward Armitage is Edward Beverley, whowith his brothers and sisters were supposed to have been burned todeath at Arnwood."
Patience removed her handkerchief from her face, and looked at herfather with astonishment.
"I tell you that I had a strong suspicion of it, my dear child, first,from the noble appearance, which no forest garb could disguise; butwhat gave me further conviction was, that when at Lymington I happenedto fall in with one Benjamin, who had been a servant at Arnwood, andinterrogated him closely. He really believed that the children wereburned; it is true that I asked him particularly relative to theappearance of the children--how many were boys, and how many weregirls, their ages, &c.--but the strongest proof was, that the names ofthe four children corresponded with the names of the Children of theForest, as well as their ages, and I went to the church register andextracted them. Now this was almost amounting to proof; for it was notlikely that four children in the forest cottage should have the sameages and names as those of Arnwood. After I had ascertained this point,I engaged Edward, as you know, wishing to secure him, for I was onceacquainted with his father, and at all events well acquainted with thecolonel's merits. You remained in the house together, and it was withpleasure that I watched the intimacy between you; and then I exertedmyself to get Arnwood restored to him. I could not ask it for him, butI prevented it being given to any other by laying claim to it myself.Had Edward remained with us, all might have succeeded as I wished; buthe would join in the unfortunate insurrection. I knew it was useless toprevent him, so I let him go. I found that he took the name of Beverleyduring the time he was with the king's army, and when I was last intown I was told so by the commissioners, who wondered where he had comefrom; but the effect was that it was now useless for me to request theestate for him, as I had wished to do--his having served in the royalarmy rendered it impossible. I therefore claimed it for myself, andsucceeded. I had made up my mind that he was attached to you, and youwere equally so to him; and as soon as I had the grant sent down, whichwas on the evening he addressed you, I made known to him that theproperty was given to me; and I added, on some dry questions being putto me by him, relative to the possibility of there being still existingan heir to the estate, that there was no chance of that, and that youwould be the mistress of Arnwood. I threw it out as a hint to him,fancying that, as far as you were concerned, all would go well, andthat I would explain to him my knowledge of who he was, after he hadmade known his regard for you."
"Yes, I see it all now," replied Patience; "in one hour he is rejectedby me, and in the next he is told that I have obtained possession ofhis property. No wonder that he is indignant, and looks upon us withscorn. And now he has left us; we have driven him into danger, and maynever see him again. Oh, father! I am very, very miserable!"
"We must hope for the best, Patience. It is true that he has gone tothe wars, but it does not therefore follow that he is to be killed. Youare both very young--much too young to marry--and all may be explained.I must see Humphrey and be candid with him.".
"But Alice and Edith--where are they gone, father?"
"That I can inform you. I have a letter from Langton on the subject,for I begged him to find out. He says that there are two young ladiesof the name of Beverley, who have been placed under the charge of hisfriends, the Ladies Conynghame, who is aunt to Major Chaloner, who hasbeen for some time concealed in the forest. But I have letters towrite, my dear Patience. To-morrow, if I live and do well, I will rideover to the cottage to see Humphrey Beverley."
The intendant kissed his daughter, and she left the room.
Poor Patience! she was glad to be left to herself, and think over thisstrange communication. For many days she had felt how fond she had beenof Edward, much more so than she had believed herself to be. "And now,"she thought, "if he really loves me, and hears my father's explanation,he will come back again
." By degrees she recovered her serenity, andemployed herself in her quiet domestic duties.
Mr. Heatherstone rode over to the cottage the next day, where he foundHumphrey busily employed as usual, and, what was very unusual,extremely grave. It was not a pleasant task for Mr. Heatherstone tohave to explain his conduct to so very young a man as Humphrey, but hefelt that he could not be comfortable until the evil impression againsthim was removed, and he knew that Humphrey had a great deal of sterlinggood sense. His reception was cool; but when the explanation was made,Humphrey was more than satisfied, as it showed that the intendant hadbeen their best friend, and that it was from a delicacy on the part ofPatience, rather than from any other cause, that the misunderstandinghad occurred. Humphrey inquired if he had permission to communicate thesubstance of their conversation to his brother, and Mr. Heatherstonestated that such was his wish and intention when he confided it toHumphrey. It is hardly necessary to say that Humphrey took the earliestopportunity of writing to Edward at the direction which Chaloner hadleft with him.
The Children of the New Forest Page 26