CHAPTER XXVIII.
MISS AMEDROZ IS PURSUED.
"I suppose now, my dear, it may be considered that everything issettled about that young lady," said Lady Aylmer to her son, on thesame day that Miss Amedroz left Aylmer Park.
"Nothing is settled, ma'am," said the Captain.
"You don't mean to tell me that after what has passed you intend tofollow her up any further."
"I shall certainly endeavour to see her again."
"Then, Frederic, I must tell you that you are very wrongindeed;--almost worse than wrong. I would say wicked, only I feelsure that you will think better of it. You cannot mean to tell methat you would--marry her after what has taken place?"
"The question is whether she would marry me."
"That is nonsense, Frederic. I wonder that you, who are generally soclear-sighted, cannot see more plainly than that. She is a scheming,artful young woman, who is playing a regular game to catch ahusband."
"If that were so, she would have been more humble to you, ma'am."
"Not a bit, Fred. That's just it. That has been her cleverness. Shetried that on at first, and found that she could not get round me.Don't allow yourself to be deceived by that, I pray. And then thereis no knowing how she may be bound up with those horrid people, sothat she cannot throw them over, even if she would."
"I don't think you understand her, ma'am."
"Oh;--very well. But I understand this, and you had better understandit too;--that she will never again enter a house of which I am themistress; nor can I ever enter a house in which she is received.If you choose to make her your wife after that, I have done." LadyAylmer had not done, or nearly done; but we need hear no more of herthreats or entreaties. Her son left Aylmer Park immediately afterEaster Sunday, and as he went, the mother, nodding her head, declaredto her daughter that that marriage would never come off, let ClaraAmedroz be ever so sly, or ever so clever.
"Think of what I have said to you, Fred," said Sir Anthony, as hetook his leave of his son.
"Yes, sir, I will."
"You can't be better off than you are;--you can't, indeed." Withthese words in his ears Captain Aylmer started for London, intendingto follow Clara down to Belton. He hardly knew his own mind on thismatter of his purposed marriage. He was almost inclined to agreewith his father that he was very well off as he was. He was almostinclined to agree with his mother in her condemnation of Clara'sconduct. He was almost inclined to think that he had done enoughtowards keeping the promise made to his aunt on her deathbed,--butstill he was not quite contented with himself. He desired to behonest and true, as far as his ideas went of honesty and truth, andhis conscience told him that Clara had been treated with cruelty byhis mother. I am inclined to think that Lady Aylmer, in spite of herhigh experience and character for wisdom, had not fought her battlealtogether well. No man likes to be talked out of his marriage by hismother, and especially not so when the talking takes the shape ofthreats. When she told him that under no circumstances would sheagain know Clara Amedroz, he was driven by his spirit of manhood todeclare to himself that that menace from her should not have theslightest influence on him. The word or two which his father said wasmore effective. After all it might be better for him in his peculiarposition to have no wife at all. He did begin to believe that hehad no need for a wife. He had never before thought so much of hisfather's example as he did now. Clara was manifestly a hot-temperedwoman,--a very hot-tempered woman indeed! Now his mother was alsoa hot-tempered woman, and he could see the result in the presentcondition of his father's life. He resolved that he would followClara to Belton, so that some final settlement might be made betweenthem; but in coming to this resolution he acknowledged to himselfthat should she decide against him he would not break his heart. She,however, should have her chance. Undoubtedly it was only right thatshe should have her chance.
But the difficulty of the circumstances in which he was placed wasso great, that it was almost impossible for him to make up his mindfixedly to any purpose in reference to Clara. As he passed throughLondon on his way to Belton he called at Mr. Green's chambers withreference to that sum of fifteen hundred pounds, which it was nowabsolutely necessary that he should make over to Miss Amedroz, andfrom Mr. Green he learned that William Belton had given positiveinstructions as to the destination of the Belton estate. He would notinherit it, or have anything to do with it under the entail,--fromthe effects of which he desired to be made entirely free. Mr. Green,who knew that Captain Aylmer was engaged to marry his client, andwho knew nothing of any interruption to that agreement, felt nohesitation in explaining all this to Captain Aylmer. "I suppose youhad heard of it before," said Mr. Green. Captain Aylmer certainlyhad heard of it, and had been very much struck by the idea; but upto this moment he had not quite believed in it. Coming simply fromWilliam Belton to Clara Amedroz, such an offer might be no more thana strong argument used in love-making. "Take back the property, buttake me with it, of course." That Captain Aylmer thought might havebeen the correct translation of Mr. William Belton's romance. But hewas forced to look at the matter differently when he found that ithad been put into a lawyer's hands. "Yes," said he, "I have heard ofit. Mr. Belton mentioned it to me himself." This was not strictlytrue. Clara had mentioned it to him; but Belton had come into theroom immediately afterwards, and Captain Aylmer might probably havebeen mistaken.
"He's quite in earnest," said Mr. Green.
"Of course, I can say nothing, Mr. Green, as I am myself so nearlyinterested in the matter. It is a great question, no doubt, how farsuch an entail as that should be allowed to operate."
"I think it should stand, as a matter of course. I think Belton iswrong," said Mr. Green.
"Of course I can give no opinion," said the other.
"I'll tell you what you can do, Captain Aylmer. You can suggest toMiss Amedroz that there should be a compromise. Let them divide it.They are both clients of mine, and in that way I shall do my duty toeach. Let them divide it. Belton has money enough to buy up the othermoiety, and in that way would still be Belton of Belton."
Captain Aylmer had not the slightest objection to such a plan.Indeed, he regarded it as in all respects a wise and salutaryarrangement. The moiety of the Belton estate might probably be worthtwenty-five thousand pounds, and the addition of such a sum as thatto his existing means would make all the difference in the world asto the expediency of his marriage. His father's arguments would allfall to the ground if twenty-five thousand pounds were to be obtainedin this way; and he had but little doubt that such a change inaffairs would go far to mitigate his mother's wrath. But he was byno means mercenary in his views;--so, at least, he assured himself.Clara should have her chance with or without the Belton estate,--orwith or without the half of it. He was by no means mercenary. Had henot made his offer to her,--and repeated it almost with obstinacy,when she had no prospect of any fortune? He could always rememberthat of himself at least; and remembering that now, he could takea delight in these bright money prospects without having to accusehimself in the slightest degree of mercenary motives. This fortunewas a godsend which he could take with clean hands;--if only heshould ultimately be able to take the lady who possessed the fortune!
From London he wrote to Clara, telling her that he proposed to visither at Belton. His letter was written before he had seen Mr. Green,and was not very fervent in its expressions; but, nevertheless, itwas a fair letter, written with the intention of giving her a fairchance. He had seen with great sorrow,--"with heartfelt grief," thatquarrel between his mother and his own Clara. Thinking, as he felthimself obliged to think, about Mrs. Askerton, he could not butfeel that his mother had cause for her anger. But he himself wasunprejudiced, and was ready, and anxious also,--the word anxiouswas underscored,--to carry out his engagement. A few words betweenthem might probably set everything right, and therefore he proposedto meet her at the Belton Castle house, at such an hour, on sucha day. He should run down to Perivale on his journey, and perhapsClara would let him have a line addressed to
him there. Such was hisletter.
"What do you think of that?" said Clara, showing it to Mrs. Askertonon the afternoon of the day on which she had received it.
"What do you think of it?" said Mrs. Askerton. "I can only hope, thathe will not come within the reach of my hands."
"You are not angry with me for showing it to you?"
"No;--why should I be angry with you? Of course I knew it all withoutany showing. Do not tell Colonel Askerton, or they will be killingeach other."
"Of course I shall not tell Colonel Askerton; but I could not helpshowing this to you."
"And you will meet him?"
"Yes; I shall meet him. What else can I do?"
"Unless, indeed, you were to write and tell him that it would do nogood."
"It will be better that he should come."
"If you allow him to talk you over you will be a wretched woman allyour life."
"It will be better that he should come," said Clara again. And thenshe wrote to Captain Aylmer at Perivale, telling him that she wouldbe at the house at the hour he had named, on the day he had named.
When that day came she walked across the park a little before thetime fixed, not wishing to meet Captain Aylmer before she had reachedthe house. It was now nearly the middle of April, and the weather wassoft and pleasant. It was almost summer again, and as she felt this,she thought of all the events which had occurred since the lastsummer,--of their agony of grief at the catastrophe which had closedher brother's life, of her aunt's death first, and then of herfather's following so close upon the other, and of the two offers ofmarriage made to her,--as to which she was now aware that she hadaccepted the wrong man and rejected the wrong man. She was steadilyminded, now, at this moment, that before she parted from CaptainAylmer, her engagement with him should be brought to a close. Now,at this coming interview, so much at any rate should be done. Shehad tried to make herself believe that she felt for him that sort ofaffection which a woman should have for the man she is to marry, butshe had failed. She hardly knew whether she had in truth ever lovedhim; but she was quite sure that she did not love him now. No;--shehad done with Aylmer Park, and she could feel thankful, amidst allher troubles, that that difficulty should vex her no more. In showingCaptain Aylmer's letter to Mrs. Askerton she had made no such promiseas this, but her mind had been quite made up. "He certainly shall nottalk me over," she said to herself as she walked across the park.
But she could not see her way so clearly out of that furtherdifficulty with regard to her cousin. It might be that she would beable to rid herself of the one lover with comparative ease; but shecould not bring herself to entertain the idea of accepting the other.It was true that this man longed for her,--desired to call her hisown, with a wearing, anxious, painful desire which made his heartgrievously heavy,--heavy as though with lead hanging to its strings;and it was true that Clara knew that it was so. It was true also thathis spirit had mastered her spirit, and that his persistence hadconquered her resistance,--the resistance, that is, of her feelings.But there remained with her a feminine shame, which made it seem toher to be impossible that she should now reject Captain Aylmer, andas a consequence of that rejection, accept Will Belton's hand. Asshe thought of this, she could not see her way out of her trouble inthat direction with any of that clearness which belonged to her inreference to Captain Aylmer.
She had been an hour in the house before he came, and never did anhour go so heavily with her. There was no employment for her aboutthe place, and Mrs. Bunce, the old woman who now lived there, couldnot understand why her late mistress chose to remain seated among theunused furniture. Clara had of course told her that a gentleman wascoming. "Not Mr. Will?" said the woman. "No; it is not Mr. Will,"said Clara; "his name is Captain Aylmer." "Oh, indeed." And then Mrs.Bunce looked at her with a mystified look. Why on earth should notthe gentleman call on Miss Amedroz at Mrs. Askerton's cottage. "I'llbe sure to show 'un up, when a comes, at any rate," said the oldwoman solemnly;--and Clara felt that it was all very uncomfortable.
At last the gentleman did come, and was shown up with all theceremony of which Mrs. Bunce was capable. "Here he be, mum." ThenMrs. Bunce paused a moment before she retreated, anxious to learnwhether the new comer was a friend or a foe. She concluded fromthe Captain's manner that he was a very dear friend, and then shedeparted.
"I hope you are not surprised at my coming," said Captain Aylmer,still holding Clara by the hand.
"A little surprised," she said, smiling.
"But not annoyed?"
"No;--not annoyed."
"As soon as you had left Aylmer Park I felt that it was the rightthing to do;--the only thing to do,--as I told my mother."
"I hope you have not come in opposition to her wishes," said Clara,unable to control a slight tone of banter as she spoke.
"In this matter I found myself compelled to act in accordance with myown judgment," said he, untouched by her sarcasm.
"Then I suppose that Lady Aylmer is,--is vexed with you for cominghere. I shall be so sorry for that;--so very sorry, as no good cancome of it."
"Well;--I am not so sure of that. My mother is a most excellentwoman, one for whose opinions on all matters I have the highestpossible value;--a value so high, that--that--that--"
"That you never ought to act in opposition to it. That is what youreally mean, Captain Aylmer; and upon my word I think that you areright."
"No, Clara; that is not what I mean,--not exactly that. Indeed, justat present I mean the reverse of that. There are some things on whicha man must act on his own judgment, irrespectively of the opinions ofany one else."
"Not of a mother, Captain Aylmer?"
"Yes;--of a mother. That is to say, a man must do so. With a lady ofcourse it is different. I was very, very sorry that there should havebeen any unpleasantness at Aylmer Park."
"It was not pleasant to me, certainly."
"Nor to any of us, Clara."
"At any rate, it need not be repeated."
"I hope not."
"No;--it certainty need not be repeated. I know now that I was wrongto go to Aylmer Park. I felt sure beforehand that there were manythings as to which I could not possibly agree with Lady Aylmer, and Iought not to have gone."
"I don't see that at all, Clara."
"I do see it now."
"I can't understand you. What things? Why should you be determined todisagree with my mother? Surely you ought at any rate to endeavour tothink as she thinks."
"I cannot do that, Captain Aylmer."
"I am sorry to hear you speak in this way. I have come here all theway from Yorkshire to try to put things straight between us; but youreceive me as though you would remember nothing but that unpleasantquarrel."
"It was so unpleasant,--so very unpleasant! I had better speak outthe truth at once. I think that Lady Aylmer ill-used me cruelly. Ido. No one can talk me out of that conviction. Of course I am sorryto be driven to say as much to you,--and I should never have saidit, had you not come here. But when you speak of me and your mothertogether, I must say what I feel. Your mother and I, Captain Aylmer,are so opposed to each other, not only in feeling, but in opinionsalso, that it is impossible that we should be friends;--impossiblethat we should not be enemies if we are brought together."
This she said with great energy, looking intently into his face asshe spoke. He was seated near her, on a chair from which he wasleaning over towards her, holding his hat in both hands between hislegs. Now, as he listened to her, he drew his chair still nearer,ridding himself of his hat, which he left upon the carpet, andkeeping his eyes upon hers as though he were fascinated. "I am sorryto hear you speak like this," he said.
"It is best to say the truth."
"But, Clara, if you intend to be my wife--"
"Oh, no;--that is impossible now."
"What is impossible?"
"Impossible that I should become your wife. Indeed I have convincedmyself that you do not wish it."
"But I do wish it."
"No;--no. If you will question your heart about it quietly, you willfind that you do not wish it."
"You wrong me, Clara."
"At any rate it cannot be so."
"I will not take that answer from you," he said, getting up from hischair, and walking once up and down the room. Then he returned to it,and repeated his words. "I will not take that answer from you. Anengagement such as ours cannot be put aside like an old glove. Youdo not mean to tell me that all that has been between us is to meannothing." There was something now like feeling in his tone, somethinglike passion in his gesture, and Clara, though she had no thoughtof changing her purpose, was becoming unhappy at the idea of hisunhappiness.
"It has meant nothing," she said. "We have been like childrentogether, playing at being in love. It is a game from which you willcome out scatheless, but I have been scalded."
"Scalded!"
"Well;--never mind. I do not mean to complain, and certainly not ofyou."
"I have come here all the way from Yorkshire in order that things maybe put right between us."
"You have been very good,--very good to come, and I will not say thatI regret your trouble. It is best, I think, that we should meet eachother once more face to face, so that we may understand each other.There was no understanding anything during those terrible days atAylmer Park." Then she paused, but as he did not speak at once shewent on. "I do not blame you for anything that has taken place, but Iam quite sure of this,--that you and I could never be happy togetheras man and wife."
"I do not know why you say so; I do not indeed."
"You would disapprove of everything that I should do. You dodisapprove of what I am doing now."
"Disapprove of what?"
"I am staying with my friend, Mrs. Askerton."
He felt that this was hard upon him. As she had shown herselfinclined to withdraw herself from him, he had become more resolute inhis desire to follow her up, and to hold by his engagement. He wasnot employed now in giving her another chance,--as he had proposed tohimself to do,--but was using what eloquence he had to obtain anotherchance for himself. Lady Aylmer had almost made him believe thatClara would be the suppliant, but now he was the suppliant himself.In his anxiety to keep her he was willing even to pass over herterrible iniquity in regard to Mrs. Askerton,--that great sin whichhad led to all these troubles. He had once written to her about Mrs.Askerton, using very strong language, and threatening her with hismother's full displeasure. At that time Mrs. Askerton had simply beenher friend. There had been no question then of her taking refugeunder that woman's roof. Now she had repelled Lady Aylmer's counselswith scorn, was living as a guest in Mrs. Askerton's house; and yethe was willing to pass over the Askerton difficulty without a word.He was willing not only to condone past offences, but to wink atexisting iniquity! But she,--she who was the sinner, would not permitof this. She herself dragged up Mrs. Askerton's name, and seemed toglory in her own shame.
"I had not intended," said he, "to speak of your friend."
"I only mention her to show how impossible it is that we should everagree upon some subjects,--as to which a husband and wife shouldalways be of one mind. I knew this from the moment in which I gotyour letter,--and only that I was a coward I should have said sothen."
"And you mean to quarrel with me altogether?"
"No;--why should we quarrel?"
"Why, indeed?" said he.
"But I wish it to be settled,--quite settled, as from the nature ofthings it must be, that there shall be no attempt at renewal of ourengagement. After what has passed, how could I enter your mother'shouse?"
"But you need not enter it." Now in his emergency he was willingto give up anything,--everything. He had been prepared to talk herover into a reconciliation with his mother, to admit that there hadbeen faults on both sides, to come down from his high pedestal anddiscuss the matter as though Clara and his mother stood upon the samefooting. Having recognised the spirit of his lady-love, he had toldhimself that so much indignity as that must be endured. But now, hehad been carried so far beyond this, that he was willing, in thesudden vehemence of his love, to throw his mother over altogether,and to accede to any terms which Clara might propose to him. "Ofcourse, I would wish you to be friends," he said, using now all thetones of a suppliant; "but if you found that it could not be so--"
"Do you think that I would divide you from your mother?"
"There need be no question as to that."
"Ah;--there you are wrong. There must be such questions. I shouldhave thought of it sooner."
"Clara, you are more to me than my mother. Ten times more." As hesaid this he came up and knelt down beside her. "You are everythingto me. You will not throw me over." He was a suppliant indeed, andsuch supplications are very potent with women. Men succeed often bythe simple earnestness of their prayers. Women cannot refuse to givethat which is asked for with so much of the vehemence of true desire."Clara, you have promised to be my wife. You have twice promised; andcan have no right to go back because you are displeased with what mymother may have said. I am not responsible for my mother. Clara, saythat you will be my wife." As he spoke he strove to take her hand,and his voice sounded as though there were in truth something ofpassion in his heart.
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