Clara Vaughan, Volume 3 (of 3)

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER VI.

  To our surprise and delight, the genuine Papa, instead of being worsethe next day, looked more like himself than he had done at any timesince the fever. But in spite of added importance, and the sense ofparental dignity, he sat hand in hand with his beautiful daughter by thehour together, playing with her cheeks and hair, as little girls do withdollies. And all the time he was talking to her about her darlingmother, and made her answer him in Italian, and made her kiss him everyother minute; and found out a thousand times, as a novelty every time,that she was the very image and model of her mother, and yet he was notsure that her smile was quite so sweet; then to make up for depreciationhe needs must kiss her again, and say, yes, he thought it was, though itwas quite impossible for any other to be so--and thus they went on, tillI thought there never would be an end of it; albeit I did my utmost tokeep away from them both.

  Knowing that I was in their way, and feeling rather out of spirits, Iwent my old accustomed round of places, sacred in my memory to a certainfather and mother of my own. How long I wept at their simple graves,how I knelt to their God and mine, thanking Him from my desolate heartfor the light now shed upon me, and how I prayed that they might both belooking down on me now and craving heavenly guidance for me through theperil yet to come--these, and the rest of my doings there, cannot wellbe told except to the ears of orphans. The clouds of an overcastexistence seemed to be opening rapidly, and though they could neverdisclose my sun and moon again, some happiness it was to know even howthose had set. And more than all, the foul aspersion upon my father'smemory, which all the while I scorned it so, had lain heavily on mythoughts, this was now proved liar's spittle, and my sweet darlingfather had offended not even a villain. A thousand times I implored hispardon for the splash having ever descended upon the hem of my garment,though shaken off straight-way with loathing.

  In the midst of my dreamy thoughts, and while I sat between the two lowheadstones, upon the very spot where I hope my own head may lie, thetremulous beauty of the Golden Thuja, which I had planted there, waspushed aside too carelessly, and something far more beautiful planteditself in front. It was my cousin Lily. I have been strictly forbiddenever to call her "Isola," or even "Idols," again, as savouring of theevil one. Lily Vaughan was beaming with young delight and happiness: thefresh west country air, sweet from the tropic gulf-stream, had crownedthe April of her cheeks with a June of roses.

  "Oh, Donna, I am so glad I have found you at last. What makes you runaway from me and my Papa? I have lost my way all over the world. Whata lovely world it is, Donna!"

  "Don't call me that name here. Do you not see where you stand?"

  She glanced at the headstones engraved with initials and dates, and atonce understood it all. For a long time she was silent, a long time Imean for her; and her soft eyes glistened at once with awe and pity. Atlast, she crept close to me, looked at the ground, and whispered with adeep sigh:

  "How you must hate me, Clara."

  "Hate you, my darling! What for?"

  "Oh, because I have got such a dear Papa, and you have none at all. Andmuch worse than that, because--because--oh, I don't know how to tellyou."

  "Tell me all you mean. Let there be no misunderstanding between us."

  "Because my mother and my father seem somehow to have killed--though Iam sure they would rather have killed themselves--your poor papa andmamma." And she leaned on my mother's headstone, and sobbed till Ifeared for her heart.

  I put my arm around her waist, drew her towards me, and sat on myfather's grave, with his niece upon my lap.

  "Dearest, I could not be the child of those who sleep beneath us, if itwere in my nature now to feel as you imagine. Years ago, I might havedone so; though I hope not even then. Orphan as I am and helpless,already I perceive that I have not lived for nothing. My father, Ibelieve, my mother, I am sure, would have laid down life with pleasureto see me led from wayward childhood even to what I am. Oh, Lily, youcan't think how they loved me." And at the tender memory, came tears,the voice of silence.

  Lily said not a word, but gathered and plaited a wreath of flowers,wherewith, as in a nuptial tie, she bound the white headstonestogether--anything so as not to disturb me just then. Even that trifle,a graceful idea born of her Southern origin, even that for the momenttouched me deeply. Times there are when our souls seem to have takenhot baths in the springs of memory, and every pore of them is open.

  "Darling Lily, come--how proud they would have been of you--come andkiss me in this presence, and promise that, whatever happens, none shallever thrust cold hands between your heart and mine. That we will bear,and trust, and love; nor, if a shadow steals between us, blink it tillthe substance follows, but be frank and open--the very breath offriendship--and when doubt begins to grow, for the devil is sure to sowit, have it plucked away at once, each by the other's hand. Kiss me,dear; your weakness is that you are not so outspoken as I am. Never letme vex you, without knowing it."

  The innocent creature kissed me, and promised solemnly.

  "Oh, Clara," she cried, "how on earth did you find it out? Sometimesyou have vexed me dreadfully, for you don't care much what you say; butI always thought it was my fault, and I never told you of it. But itnever made me love you a single bit the less."

  "Yes, it did for the moment, though you may soon have forgiven it. Buta love which is always undergoing forgiveness, is like glass steeped inwater, you may cut it in two with a pair of common scissors."

  "Well, I should like to see the scissors that would cut me away fromyou. I'll have a great piece off your hair, Clara, if you talk suchnonsense. Now come; my father wants you."

  "Have you told him?"

  "Yes, everything about dear Conny and you; and he says you are a noblegirl, but uncommonly thick-headed about your own concerns, though asquick as lightning for others. Now, I won't have you look so pale; letus run and get some colour. See, I'll get first to that tree."

  "Will you indeed?" I won the race by a yard, and was glad that theexercise made excuse for the quick rise of my bosom. After all that hadhappened, I would not have her imagine that I still cared for herbrother. Like a girl all over, she said not another word, determinedthat I should begin it.

  "Let us walk faster, Lily, if my Uncle wishes to see me."

  "No, there is plenty of time. It will do him good to sleep a little."

  "Oh, then it is nothing important. I rather feared that it might be."

  "Don't be at all afraid, darling. He wants to show you how nicely hemade the Chalcedony Spalla that used to be round my neck. He made itfor my mother, in remembrance of something."

  "Oh, nothing more than that. I thought you spoke of something--at leastyou seemed to imply--"

  "Nothing that you need blush about, nor stammer either, proud Donna.You know you proved to me yesterday, when we were in the cab, that youdid not care for Conny any more than you did for a flake of London soot,which happened to come in at the window, and fall upon your glove. Andyou were kind enough to compare him to that individual smut."

  "Oh, Judy, Judy," I cried, as the dog came bounding to meet us--"darlingJudy, you love Clara, if nobody else has sense enough."

  And half an hour ago, Lily and I in dramatic language, vowed eternalaffection!

  "Oh, Clara, darling Clara, don't you know that I was in fun? I thoughtyou were so clever. And now to see you sobbing over that great muff ofa dog! Judy, I hate you, get out of the way"--the judicious would notstir--"take your great hulking paws from cousin Clara's neck. Therethen, make the most of that! Oh, I have hurt my hand so, and he is onlywagging his tail. But I am so delighted, my own pet, that you love poorConny still."

  "And pray, who said I did?"

  "Nobody, only me. All dear Papa said was this, that there was a greatmistake, and he soon perceived what it was; and I asked him to take myopinion about it, because I was a senior sophist. And he pretended notto know what a senior sophist was. And I
told him it was my degree, notfrom that man, you know, but fairly earned at the College; though theydid have the impudence to say that the Professors were going to pluckme, until I gave them a smile."

  "True enough, no doubt. But I know all that long ago. What more did myUncle say?"

  "That he would tell you his opinion, but he would rather not talk aboutit to me. And he could not bear me to go out, for fear I should bestolen again. And I do believe he has had me watched all the way. HereI come, Pappy; large as life you see, and three times as natural."

  "Yes, my own treasure, three times as natural to me, as my life has beenwithout you. But wheel me indoors, young maidens. No other man in theworld has such a pair of horses. I want to talk to Clara, in my ownroom alone. Lily, go to Mrs. Fletcher, I can't have you roving aboutso." Lily obeyed him instantly.

  "Wait one minute, Uncle dear; I want to go and fetch something."

  I ran to my own rooms, and found the deed of gift, which had not beenreturned to the lawyers. This I took to his study and placed it in hishands.

  "What is the matter, Clara? Have you turned conveyancer, and detectedsome informality?"

  "No, dearest Uncle. But I want you to cancel this. I cannot allow youso to rob your children."

  I will not say what he called me in his surprise and delight. It seemedto me quite uncalled for; I had only done what my conscience told me wasjust. But as for accepting my offer--he would not hear of it twice."Darling, it would be wrong. It would be downright robbery; and no pleawhatever for it, on the score of paternal duty. You are the properheir, the child of the elder son, the true representative of our ancientfamily. All the rest is a quibble and quirk, of which, even withoutyour countless benefits, I never intended to take advantage. And mychildren are, by the mother's side, of a family older even than ours--sofar as that nonsense goes--and are heirs to wealth compared to which--ifit only be rightly worked--these Vaughan estates are nothing. All I askyou is to do a thing which I am sure you would do without asking--toassist them, if what I have left them is spent before they prove theirclaims. Here is a letter to Count Gaffori; that excellent man is stillalive; and here are the certificates, and my own brief deposition, whichI have begged a neighbouring magistrate to come to-day and attest; hereis my Lily's Spalla, and perhaps other relics are in my son'spossession. Lastly, here are two more letters, one to my old friendPeter Green, who has now much influence in that part of Corsica, theother to James McGregor, once my messmate at Lincoln's Inn, now an acuteand rising Counsel, and a leading authority upon municipal law. Takeall these, my darling, if you will so far oblige me; for I fear mylovely daughter--isn't she lovely, Clara?"

  "The loveliest girl in all the world; and what is far more important,the sweetest, and the best."

  "Yes, if you had searched the kingdom, you could not have brought mesuch another love. But ah! you should have seen her mother! However, Ifear the sweet pet is a little careless and random, as her father usedto be. At any rate, I prefer entrusting this great budget to your braveand honest hands; at least until my son comes here to claim it. Thedeposition you shall have, when attested."

  "But, Uncle, surely you had better keep it all yourself. No fear ofMrs. Daldy now."

  "No, my darling; but these things must not be buried with me."

  There was something in his eyes which made me start with terror. But hesmiled so sweetly that my terror fled.

  "And now, my child, about yourself. Though you have found me anotherdaughter, I look upon you as the eldest; and I venture to speak to you,as a father would. Is it as my Lily tells me? Is it true--God grant itmay be--that you love my son, my Lily's son, Henry Conrad? Why don'tyou answer me, darling? Tell the truth like a real Vaughan. Surely youare not ashamed of him." And he laid his hand on my head. My tears fellfast; and my heart was in a tempest.

  "Yes, Uncle," at last I answered, frightened for his suspense, andlooking him full in the face, "Yes, Uncle, I do--I mean at least Idid--love him very much at one time."

  "With all your heart, as we Vaughans love; with all your heart, poordarling?"

  "Yes, Uncle," I sobbed, in bitter humiliation; "none of my heart is leftme."

  "Thank God! what blest news for his mother! My Harry is the happiestfellow alive."

  "But, Uncle, he does not think so, he--he--doesn't perceive hisblessedness." A flash of my old self-irony came even through myanguish.

  "Oh, I have heard all that. But surely you know the absurd mistake hemade."

  "Indeed, I cannot guess it. Is it my place to do that?"

  "Of course it is; when you are in the light, and he is all in the dark.Whom did that kidnapper believe himself to have murdered?"

  "You, Uncle, of course."

  "And whose child then does he suppose you to be; if he heard of yourexistence, as he is sure to have done?"

  "Merciful God, I see it all! And how bitterly I have wronged him, myown noble Conrad!"

  My poor weak Uncle had to manage me, all by himself, in my terriblehysterics. Frightened as he was, for he never before had to deal inthat way with a nature resembling mine, he would not even ring for help,lest I should betray my secret to other ears than his own. When at lastI came to myself, he kissed me tenderly, and said:

  "My poor dear child, remember--when you may be glad to think of it--thatwhether I see my noble boy or not, I shall die now in perfect happiness.Noble he must be, or Clara could not love him. It would have been thepet scheme of my heart, if I could have had a voice in it. And here itis done without me! How often have I longed and yearned that he couldonly see you, as you waited day and night by my pestilential bed, thathe could only know the tale of your troubles and devotion. At my death,the generation so visited from heaven expires; and you three darlingsstart anew, with all things in your favour. Now mind that the good oldSignor's directions are complied with, and that Harry, if he lives here,abandons the Corsican property to his sister Lily. Promise me this, myClara."

  "Of course I will, dear Uncle--I mean, so far as my influence goes. Andhe will then be bound to do so under the deed-poll, if I understood youaright. But perhaps he has quite forgotten me now."

  "Of course he thinks himself bound to avoid you. But I have written toset him right, and to bring him as soon as possible. And nowabout--about that horrible--"

  "Ah, yes. If I had the right, I would even let him go. My feeling haschanged from fierce hatred to utter contempt. And surely his vengeanceis satisfied now."

  "No, Clara. It will flame more wildly than ever the moment he learnshis mistake, and my final triumph over him. Has he any idea where ourLily is?"

  "As yet, he can have none. If old Cora went to Albert Street lastevening, she would learn nothing from Mrs. Shelfer, I took care of that,except that Lily had been there, and was gone again. The old woman doesnot speak English enough to attempt to cross-examine. She loves poorLily, I know, but will be satisfied with the belief that the child hadgone to her brother's. And as for that monster, even if he relents, hewill be too proud to inquire."

  "What had my poor child done, that the brute turned her out, and struckher?"

  "Nothing, I believe, beyond defending her brother Conrad, as she alwaysdid. I suppose I may call him 'Conrad,' Uncle?"

  "Yes, my dear, it is his true name, chosen by his mother. Where are yougoing so hastily?"

  "To London at once. For your sake, Uncle dear, I must not think ofsparing him. I must have him in custody to-night. I would have avoidedit, if I could for a thousand reasons; but there is no alternative."

  "Yes there is. In two days I shall be beyond his reach. Don't ask mewhat I mean. To-day is Thursday. Promise only to let him go free tillSaturday."

  "I will. But I must go to London. I cannot rest quiet here."

  My Uncle's face brightened beautifully. And he took my hand in his.

  "I know what you mean, my darling. You intend to discover my Harry, forfear of any mishap. I will let you go, dear; though the house see
msempty without you, its truthful and graceful mistress. But you must notgo alone. It is not right for a beautiful girl, however self-possessedand dignified, especially one of your station, to rove aboutunattended."

  "Only one man ever insulted me, Uncle, I mean in a serious way, and henever did it again."

  "It does not matter. The example is bad, and all men are not gentlemen.Mrs. Fletcher shall go with you, and our pretty Lily keep house. But Ihave an especial reason, and a most powerful one, for wishing that youshould be here. Don't go till to-morrow, my darling; I am so wellto-day, and I must see you once at your own table, with my daughter andme for your guests."

  "Oh, Uncle, I hope so a thousand times. I will stop till the morning,if you have set your heart upon it."

  "I have indeed. You may go in the morning by the first train, and beback to-morrow night. Will you promise?"

  Though I could not understand his motive, and he was pleased to concealit, I promised all he asked. Then I told him all the story of Conradand the accident, how he saved my mother's life and mine, with thecourage and skill of a true-born mountaineer. My Uncle was moved totears, not only at the gallantry of his son, but also by the joy ofdiscovering that all the obligations lay not upon one side. I also weptat finding that Lily had never heard of it. Conrad's lofty naturescorned to narrate its own achievements. When, after that adventure, hediscovered who we were, he avoided us because he believed that hisfather had slain mine. It was not till a later date, when he became ofage--as the Corsicans reckon manhood[#]--that Lepardo Della Croce toldhim all he knew of his history, dwelt on the foul shame wrought to theDella Croce by his bigamist father, and tried in vain to force on himthe awful oath of Vendetta. The youth had too much English blood in hisheart to accept the black inheritance. Thenceforth he could not bearthe sight of the man who had killed, as they both supposed, his father,although, in his wrath for his mother's wrongs and his own, he would notresent the deed. What marvel then that he spurned me, and was maddenedwith himself, at finding that he, the illegitimate, was in love with me,his legitimate sister? But now, we are only half-cousins, and naturehas never misled us.

  [#] _i.e._ the age of twenty.

  All that evening, my Uncle was in the most glorious spirits, and I amnot sure that Lily and I were very far behind him. He played us allsorts of boyish tricks, and we made reprisals with girlish ones, tillLily's joyous laughter rang halfway clown the corridor. I had dressedher with especial care, and she did look such a love! But it was all toosudden, and far too sweet to last. My Uncle indeed seemed quite besidehimself, more gladsome than nature allows us to be with impunity. Thenthe vein dried all of a sudden, and the mind flowed the opposite way.He made his beautiful daughter, who, though not much of a sophist, had asoul that thrilled to music, he made her play the soft Corsican airs,that seem to weep as they breathe, and which she had learned from oldCora. He knew them all; how well he knew them, his face turned from thelight betrayed. The depth of melodious sadness, the touch of somenervine chord, which knew not its own existence, and starts to be knownand appreciated, as might an unconscious poet, and more than all thetrembling spread of the feelers of the heart, these are the proofs ofnature's presence in music or in poetry.

  Then he begged me to play some of the sweet and simple melodies ofWales. These he declared, and I had already perceived it, these wereborn of the self-same spirit, though not so highly intensified, as theCorsican romances.

  Finally, he told us many a moving tale of his Lily; tales a man is lothto tell to those with whom he expects to live. How she was loved, andhow she seemed to love everybody, and pretty answers she made to thosewho praised her beauty, and more than words or kisses, the loving thingsshe did, the elegance of self-denial, and the innocence of merit.

  That night, that memorable night, we stayed up more than two hours overhis proper time for going to bed. He seemed so sad to part, that Icould not bear to hurry him. One thing he told me which I was glad tohear.

  "Clara, darling, I have taken a liberty with your house. Thisafternoon, I wrote by the London post, for Annie Franks to come backagain to-morrow, if she will, as an especial favour to me."

  I was rather surprised; but answered him warmly, and in all truth:

  "Dear Uncle, you know that I love her; and I cannot see too much of thefew whom I really love."

  Then, as I was to start at six o'clock in the morning, he wished me"Good bye," in a solemn manner, which seemed to me quite uncalled for.He drew my young face to his own, so marked by sorrow and illness,looked into my eyes as if I were to remember something, then held me inhis trembling embrace, and kissed me long and fondly.

  "God in heaven bless you, darling, for all you have done to me andmine."

  "_Mine_, you should say, dear Uncle. I count them now my own."

  His daughter took him away, with her white arms thrown around him. Fornow she slept in the closet next to his room, where I had so long beenquartered.