CHAPTER IX.
STRUGGLES.
Allerton Court has been in our family since the days of the Tudors. How the careless scapegrace Egertons kept it so long I cannot imagine; chiefly, I believe, by the sacrifice of larger and more valuable estates elsewhere. Its present possessor, my half brother, was a very different person from his predecessors. My father succeeded to an impoverished title at an early age, and soon after attaining his majority, married a wealthy city heiress, who, finding herself uneasy and misplaced in fashionable life, imagined she was disgusted with the world and its frivolities, and gave herself up for the remainder of her "sojourn here below" to quacks, spiritual, and medical. Poor woman! I believe she sincerely wished to do right, and with this view brought up her son under an amount of religious pressure that reduced him to the adamantine condition I have before hinted at. No doubt the various patent pills and powders she was in the habit of administering to him, had their share in producing the curious dormant state of his physical and mental powers. Altogether, Egerton was a problem I never dreamt of solving, and now that he had suddenly acquired interest in my eyes, I blushed at the thought of asking his brotherly assistance to settle my affairs into marriageable shape, almost as deeply as at the idea of begging from a stranger.
My father remained unmarried for nearly two years after the death of his first wife, and their son must have been nineteen when the bright eyes and graceful manners of Lady Mary De Burgh captivated the disconsolate widower, still young and handsome enough to please the fancy and interest the heart of a girl, only some few months older than his heir. I have but slight recollection of my mother. I was the youngest, and she did not survive my birth more than three years; both my sister and myself were extremely like her, and adored by my father, who never could, even in his childhood, caress so rigidly orthodox a young gentleman as his eldest son. Egerton was a thing apart, and belonged to his country and the peerage; but we were the darlings of his heart; spoiled children, reared in luxury and indulgence. How well I remember the bitter and passionate grief with which I received the intelligence of his death, and the choking sobs that interrupted my reproaches to Egerton, for not sending for me in time to let me hear his voice once more, feeling that every unconscious game of cricket in which I had joined while he lay struggling between life and death was an unnatural piece of levity, unpardonable!
All this passed over soon, and my life was happy enough, but Mary used often to look sad, and was very glad to marry Wentworth, though he was a good deal older than herself. The large fortune my father's first wife brought him was, of course, settled on her children, so Mary and I had but the slender portions usually allotted to the younger Egertons, but mine was doubled by her husband's refusal to accept hers.
This is more than I meant to have stated about myself, but it was necessary to show my position.
A cold raw damp November day, with occasional dashes of heavy rain, the leafless trees bending before the sudden gusts of wind that accompanied them; and every object ten yards off shrouded in a dark fog that seemed to blend heaven and earth in one equable gloom. I shivered as I drew up the windows of the cab into which I had thrown myself at the railway station, near Allerton, observing how strongly the conveyance appeared to partake of the general humidity. The avenue seemed interminable; and when at length my humble vehicle drew up before the portico, I received the pleasing intelligence, "my Lord is not at home, Captain Egerton, but will you please to walk in?"
"Why, yes! I intend stopping here for the night; and, Barnard, get me some mulled port, will you, lots of spice, and hot as the Devil."
"Yes, sir," said the Butler, with a slight shudder at the profanity. By the time I had roused the slumbering fire into a blaze, the house steward, an old retainer, entered with the wine, and respectfully congratulated me on my recovery; a few mutual enquiries followed, during which I could not help smiling to myself at the formal tone I felt compelled to adopt towards the grave old man who had known my boyhood; nothing would be too familiar with Mrs. O'Toole, but the stern Saxon nature demands a degree of reserve in their superiors, and would resent any freedom as something derogatory to both. The coldness between English masters and servants is quite as much the fault of the latter as the former, and so it must be while the Anglo-Saxon race exists; anything demonstrative is terribly out of place with them. Il ne faut jamais faire agir un homme dans un sens different de son caractère.
"My Lord takes the chair at a meeting of the Society for converting the Jews at—— to-day, sir, but he will return to dinner," said my informant, as he made his parting bow and retired.
"Heaven send my worthy brother may follow up the object of the meeting by converting Messrs. Levi and Co. from creditors into non-claimants, as well as all the other errors of their ways," was my mental ejaculation as I betook myself to the Record and its advertisements for pious footmen, and not sober, but serious cooks, as an escape from my own thoughts.
Egerton returned to dinner, bringing with him two sleek white neckcloth'd straight-haired gentlemen; "the deputation," he informed me, from the "Parent Society."
My brother received me very graciously, and remarking that I still looked indifferent after my illness, regretted I was not in time to attend the meeting to hear the reverend "somebody" hold forth. "Captain Egerton," said he, during one of the pauses in our repast, noticing, perhaps, something of carnal impatience in the glances of the Reverend J. E. Black towards the door, for the appearance of the next entrée, "Captain Egerton has been, and is quartered at Carrington; did you not reside there, or in its neighbourhood?"
"Yes, my Lord," replied the son of the "Parent Society;" "I had for some time a wide field of labour at A——."
This individual was a tall man, inclined to embonpoint, with heavy features, a large hooked nose, a thick sensual under lip, and a tuft of straight coarse hair at each side of his face.
"At A——," said I, glad to exchange a word with any one about a place so endeared to me; "I was there two days ago. Did you know a Mr. Winter, of Abbey Gardens? I am indebted to the kindness and care of him and his wife for my existence."
"Under Providence," he suggested, in a mild sugary voice, which, with a perpetual placid smile, characterised the revd. gentleman; his manner, too, was extremely courteous, almost well-bred, though one could not help perceiving a something lurking below, like the odour of cigars, when you endeavour to overpower it with mille fleurs or eau de miel.
"Of course, of course," said I.
"I was not personally acquainted with him," he observed, "but from his repute I fear he is not a Christian."
"Well, at least he is a good Samaritan," I replied.
"My brother is a military man, you know, my dear sir," observed Lord Egerton, and he sighed.
"Come, Egerton," said I, "although we may not be as good as we ought, we are not so bad after all."
"Indeed, my Lord, there is a little more light in the army than formerly," said his revd. friend, "when I was a soldier their state of darkness was awful!"
"Pray, sir, may I ask you how you managed to grope your way out of it," I enquired.
Thoughtless as I then was, I felt shocked at the profane familiarity with sacred things evinced by his reply, nor will I record it. I noticed merely his hint of having been a soldier, and made a few languid enquiries as to his Regiment, &c. But Egerton and the other clerico soon plunged into discussion of things and people incomprehensible and unknown to me; their occasional awkward attempts to change or rather descend to topics more congenial to their unregenerate companion, conveying the pleasant notion that they looked upon me as a hawk in a dove cot, a wolf among lambs, but that they would endeavour to let me see they were not too proud of their superiority. Mr. Black indeed frequently turned to me, endeavouring to suit his conversation to my depraved taste, by repeating wretched anecdotes of various London notorieties. By the way, I generally observe your parvenu always appears to think a familiarity with steward and housekeeper's room on dits the most certain proof he can adduce of his own fitness for good society. I took a most unconquerable dislike to this blessed babe of the Parent Society, especially when I heard him descanting to Egerton as we sipped our coffee, on the sinfulness of dancing and the necessity of faith unadorned by works; nor was I the least surprised on hearing afterwards from Winter, that he fully carried out his principles in his practice, by leaving every thing to his faith, and dispensing with those more commonplace duties less privileged individuals consider binding; his poor wife, neglected and abused, sought safety in separation; and his sons, ground down by tyranny and injustice, being left to the unassisted care of that Providence with whose dispensation he was too pious to let parental anxieties interfere. But I am giving too much time to a man who annoyed me through a whole evening; there are not many like him I should hope. His companion, although tiresome, seemed a simple, straightforward person.
Never shall I forget that wretched evening: oppressed by the anticipation of the unpleasant conference before me, and feeling the difficulty of my task with Egerton more strongly, as every moment showed me the spirit of self-satisfied devoteeism with which my brother and his allies seemed to shut out the non-elect from all sympathy or affection.
There was a great deal of babble about the "Missionary cause," and advanced Christian and Evangelical views, and many more of the technical terms which made up their stock-in-trade; while my thoughts flew back to the real prayer I had heard poor Gilpin pour out when I lay, to all appearance, insensible, and hovering between life and death.
I felt disgusted to observe that sleek, shiny Black trying to catch Egerton with a dun (religious) hackle, while he baited a small hook with a red one (of what he would call fashionable small talk) for me: of the two, I preferred the latter, for although far from what I ought to be, nothing is so revolting to my taste as the attempt to force solemn subjects into the trivialities of commonplace conversation.
The longest and dreariest evening, and digression too, must come to an end: I pleaded the excuse of recent illness, and made my retreat, intimating to Egerton my wish for a private interview in the morning, to which he very readily assented.
I sat musing over my fire until my candle was nearly burnt out, contrasting in my mind the dreary trio I had just left with the pleasant, warmhearted, unaffected little circle, amongst whom I had so lately mingled, a favoured and indulged member—"These people live, and are happy: they lead no useless unemployed existence either; but if Egerton's is the road to Heaven, Dieu m'en preserve. Oh, what a strange perversity of fate to make me the younger brother. Egerton would have made such an admirable curate, and married the best dowered of his congregation; he looks upon the 'accessories' of his position as so many hindrances to his advance in holiness, while I!—How well my poor mother's diamond tiara would look on Kate Vernon's rich brown hair!"
I never thought I should feel so like a poltroon as I did when the library door closed on Egerton and myself. Never in the course of our lives had I asked or received a favour from him: not that any unkind feeling existed between us, but we had always been blanks to each other; and now to ask this frigid, pharisaical being, who so evidently thought there was a great gulf fixed between himself and the great mass of his fellow-creatures, to help me out of a scrape I ought never to have got into—to sympathise with my passionate admiration of a penniless girl!
"You wished to speak to me, Frederic?"
I may observe, Egerton was the only one I was ever intimate with who troubled himself to give me more than one syllable to my name.
"Yes, I have a great deal to accuse myself of, Egerton, but, in short, I am in a scrape, and I want you to do a brotherly act, and help me out of it."
This bold plunge seemed to startle my companion not a little, and he moved rather restlessly on his seat as he replied, "Indeed! if in my power to assist you, I trust I shall not be deficient in the performance of my duty, but remember, I cannot countenance the godless waste of means entrusted"—
"God knows I do not want to continue any useless expenditure," said I, "it is with the wish to become free from debt, to live 'cleanly and like a gentleman,' that I come to bore you with my affairs!"
"Every one smarting under the effects of their folly is ready to abjure it, but when the sting is removed, you can hardly answer for yourself," said his Lordship.
"No, but really I have not a single dissipated or extravagant taste; the more unpardonable, you will say, my getting ahead of my income; granted, yet you, living here in unbroken quiet, can hardly judge the force that habit acquires, when your only companions are a set of men whose occupation is spending, whose excitement is prodigality. It was the want of some better and deeper interest that threw me into expensive follies which I now regret; but, Egerton, I have some more certain guarantee to give for my permanent reformation than a mere desire to get rid of difficulties. I—there is a Miss—that is, I want to marry and settle."
"That alters the face of affairs; I shall be happy to do anything I can to forward this favourable arrangement; have you proposed in form? or ascertained the amount of the lady's fortune?"
I replied, laughing, "Yes and no, I have not proposed, and her fortune is like my own—a blank."
"Really, Frederic, there are no limits to the imprudence into which the impetuosity of a worldly and unchastened spirit hurry those lost to the knowledge of better things. I do not see how your marriage, with a penniless girl is to better your position in any point of view, temporal or spiritual."
"There is such a thing as awakening to better and purer affections," I replied, "more settled convictions or"—
"It is our duty to curb our affections, which are all depraved and sinful," interrupted Lord Egerton, "but to return to the point we started from; what is the scrape, as you term it? substituting, no doubt, a delusive jest to disguise the real colour of the transaction."
"Why really nothing more dreadful than is done every day;" and I told him of my bets and horses; of raising the wind through the means of his protegées, the Jews; of their renewal of bills at enormous interest, and the whole blood-sucking system; that my great object was to get free from their fangs, to cut the army, marry, and settle down somewhere as something, I did not know exactly what, but I had an idea of farming: this last was a happy stroke, I thought, for if Egerton really wants to make a good boy of me, now is his time; let him offer me one of his Devonshire farms, for I know that he purchased property there some years ago. He sat playing with his seals and chain, and looking confoundedly sour, longer than I could wait with any degree of patience; at last he said, in a discontented tone, "I suppose you want me to join you in raising money on your 'younger son's portion?' but even if I were to consent to so great an inconvenience, it will not, I should think, forward your matrimonial scheme, which you'll excuse me for designating as peculiarly absurd under the circumstances."
"You may call it what you like," I replied, "though I am not aware I asked your opinion about it; of course if I must give it up, I must; for I would not drag any girl into an abyss of poverty; but it will be a blow more severe than you think."
"I am no judge, and you can of course decide as you think fit, but I must say I see no reason why I should be suddenly called on to inconvenience myself to pay for the extravagance, and gratify the caprice of my half brother!"
"You have given your opinion on my conduct quite often enough; I did not come here merely to bow before your animadversions, nor am I aware you have any right to call me to account; the question is this: I have a certain charge on your estates, which will more than cover my debts, and I want you to decide whether you will aid me in getting it into my own hands or leave me to incur the expenses and difficulty of raising it indirectly. Come, Egerton, you cannot be such a cold hearted fellow, and a son of my poor father's. Pitch calculations to the Devil who invented them, and hold out a hand to help me on terra firma!"
"Well, Frederic, I am not cold hearted, but my principles are opposed to yielding to impulses which, prompted by our fallen nature, must always be evil; you certainly have a right to a sum of £10,000, the interest of which I have hitherto paid you, and could as certainly put difficulties in the way of your getting possession of it. I do not intend, however, to do so, my observations were merely to show that it was not such an easy matter for me to give you £10,000 at a moment's warning; I will, however, write to Harris about it at once; let me see, you say your debt to these Jews is between six and seven thousand, and your smaller debts something under two thousand; well, that will leave you, say, fifteen hundred to begin afresh with. I am endeavouring to serve you at my own inconvenience, I repeat. That property I purchased in Devonshire cost me more than it is worth, and situated as Providence has seen fit to place me, at the head of a strong Evangelical movement, it is my lot to contribute largely towards the spread of the gospel, and Heaven forbid that I should permit the extravagance of a young wordling to curtail my means of advancing the missionary cause; therefore remember, Frederic, that this is the last time I can yield to the weakness of my disposition and furnish you with the means of clearing yourself from debt; you are old enough to judge for yourself, and if you choose to commit the folly of marrying on £1,500 or £2,000, and a commission in one of the most expensive regiments in the service our besotted rulers ever embodied, you must bear the consequences; I have told you my final decision."
"It is just what I might have expected; but, I say, Egerton, though I am perfectly aware I have no claims on you, do you mean to say you will not give me a helping hand to settle, and lead 'a new life,' as you call it. I have been brought up in luxury and expensive habits; I am incapacitated by education and association from pushing my own fortune, and now, when these seeds have brought forth their fruit, I am to be cut adrift on a raft of £1,500; I would not ask you to injure or cramp yourself in the slightest degree, but is there nothing to which you can assist me, if you look about you in a brotherly spirit?"
"Really, Captain Egerton, I am at a loss to imagine what more you can expect from me; unless you wish me to resign Allerton into your own hands. I am ready to place your fortune in your own hands at once, and now you seem to think I have not done enough. Am I to supply you with the means of gratifying your whims out of my own pocket, at the expense of far higher claims?"
"Enough! enough!" cried I, "by Heavens I would rather accept a settlement in the parochial workhouse than from you, or any one, that would give it reluctantly. I do not know how you interpret the Bible, Egerton, but I remember a verse in it, that used to strike my fancy, when the plate was being handed round after a charity sermon; something about compassionating a needy brother, and the concluding question, 'how dwelleth the love of God in him?' I suppose your universal brotherhood with believers leaves but a scanty remnant for the one nature provided you with; however, you say truly, I have no right to expect you will inconvenience yourself for me; pray forget that I ever lowered myself so much as to hint at such a proceeding. I shall content myself with what I am rigidly entitled to, and equally free from debt and obligation, try to find in India a wider field for ambition, or as you would term it, of 'usefulness;' let us see which of us will reap most honours."
"I am well accustomed to bear the sneers a Christian must meet in his conflict with the world; I endeavour to act up to my principles, and I hope you may see the error of your ways before it is too late."
"Oh! pious martyr! I wish it was my lot to encounter persecutions on the same terms, though, by Jove, I am not sure whether in my darkened intellect, I might not consider 'Smithfield,' almost counterbalanced by a couple of hours' exhortation from some Rev. Holdforth. Don't look shocked, Egerton; but you and your dogmas have sent me three steps lower down, at least, since I came here. Religion! you conspire against its prevalence. But I need not excruciate you any longer;—any commands for town? I intend taking that particular road to ruin this evening."
"I never use strong language," said his Lordship, "it is opposed to all my principles, but I confess, Frederic, you have infinitely disgusted me: I wish you a safe journey, and, as I have promised to show the Rev. Mr. Black my model schools, the fame of which, he says, reached him even at A——, I shall now bid you good morning." He bowed formally.
"Egerton, good bye: and not for all the wealth and influence you possess, nor even for the privilege of clerical toad-eaters, would I change with you!"
So it was all up with me in a few minutes; all my plans for getting inside the shell of my brother's heart vain—or rather, there was nothing inside to get at. Good bye to peace and love, but I will have action: where were my wits that I did not go to India long ago, instead of loitering away the best years of my life in aimless frivolity? Oh! the irremediable past.
In the bitterness of self-reproach I forgot Egerton; why should I be angry with him? he acted according to the dictates of his cold nature. Quietness was torment, and a couple of hours after the above conversation I was steaming to London, en route to my agent, breathless to be doing something—anything.
CHAPTER X.
ADIEU.
London at the close of November! Can the force of human imagination conceive anything half so gloomy and dispiriting? And certainly the dreary weeks I spent there at this period have ever ranked first in my remembrance of wretchedness: the damp, drizzling, foggy condition of animate and inanimate nature—the deserted streets haunted by long strings of decrepid placard bearers whose rheumatic forms seemed bowed under the huge capitals setting forth Mons. Jullien's concerts d'hiver, &c. My days were pretty equally divided between my lawyer and army agent, varied by a good deal of letter writing, and a solitary dinner at the desolate Club. Towards the middle of this purgatorial period, the regiment I was soon to call mine no more got the route for Canterbury; and Burton, like a trump as he was, came up to town to hear a fuller account of my troubles than a letter could give, and to see the most he could of me before I started to the land of military promise. He was a true-hearted fellow, and the sincere, unpretending interest with which he entered into my plans—I will not say hopes, for God knows I felt little then—did me more real good, and drew me more out of myself than the most elaborate efforts at consolation could have effected. Finally, when just about to leave me one night after a long talk over my affairs, and half out of the room, he observed, "You know, old fellow, I have always been prudent, and if a few hundred pounds would be of any use to you, I would be glad of a little higher interest—they only pay two and a half at present—and the whole thing might lie over until you get some prize money in India, when I will be down on you inexorably for the compound interest, principal, and all. Now do not stir, I know my way down; we will talk it over to-morrow."
He was away before I could say a word.
"Come," thought I, as I turned to the fire, "it is worth while to bear the crosses of this world of ours, when it contains even one such fellow as that to leaven the whole lump."
Yet not even to Burton could I bear to talk of the bitter struggle it cost me to part with Kate Vernon as little more than a common acquaintance. It was weakness in me to think of it, and (I am glad I can record so much good of myself) it was a source of sincere rejoicing to me when I reflected that Miss Vernon, at all events, could not suffer from the painful regret I felt gnawing my troubled spirit.
I wrote to Colonel Vernon from London, telling him shortly of the reasons which rendered my exchange into a Regiment in India indispensable, opening my mind to him as to a father, concluding by begging him to let me spend my last few days in England under his roof, as I wished to keep the visit to be a parting impression of home. To Winter I also wrote, less fully, and lastly to Gilpin. This little primitive group, scarce five months known to me, had wound itself into my sympathies, and now, with the exception of Burton, from them alone, of all the variety of my acquaintance, was it hard to part.
"I was beginning to feel puzzled at your long silence," wrote the Colonel, in reply. "You have fully explained, and if the assurance of an old soldier's perfect approbation has any value in your eyes, accept mine; you will be truly welcome here whenever you can come; give us a day's notice, and if you have no objection to a diminutive crib, and a haunted chamber, Mrs. O'Toole says we can keep you altogether under our roof. Kate desires her kind remembrances; she was delighted with your letter, which I hope I was not indiscreet in letting her see, &c." The kindly tone of this letter soothed me, and made me long to be once more among the quiet circle with whom my previous life had so little fitted me to sympathise; I hurried my preparations, and stirred up my agent so effectually, that early in December the Gazette announced "Captain the Hon. Boscawen Egerton from the —— Light Dragoons, to be Captain in the —— Lancers, vice John Thomas Robinson Brown, who exchanges."
The Regiment had not been long in India, and was stationed in the North Western Provinces, where I could have the best chance of seeing a little service.
A few final interviews with the military tailor; a parting visit to, and dinner from my old corps, who really seemed sorry to lose me; my heavy baggage dismissed to Southampton, to await the sailing of the ship in which I was to go out, and I was free to give my last week in England to A——, and its attractions.
I had reserved a curious old picture, the painter unknown, which had been praised by judges; and a Louis Quatorze snuff-box with an exquisite miniature of La Valliere in enamel, from the general disposal of my miscellaneous effects; they were destined for Winter and the Colonel. Tupper's "Proverbial Philosophy," I thought would not be unacceptable to Kate; together with all the prettiest new music I could collect, and several oratorios in Moyen age binding, for Gilpin; and Mrs. O'Toole! could she be forgotten? No! I ransacked Regent Street, for the brightest of scarlet shawls; while mindful of the occupation I had so often watched Mrs. Winter engaged in, Howel and James furnished a handsome buhl knitting case, with a Turquoise button, for her acceptance.
My preparations finished, though not without a certain aching of the heart, I took my way for the last time, to the old city of A——; yet pleasure predominated over pain, as I thought of a whole week with Kate Vernon. I had despatched a line to say I would be with them to dinner on the following day, and the speed of an express train did not suffice for the impatience with which I longed to be once more surrounded with the familiar faces now so endeared to me. I felt jealous of every moment curtailed from the short space of happiness I had so looked forward to; and I believe the driver of the cab that conveyed me from the railway to the Priory thought me insane, so reiterated were my injunctions to drive faster, faster! It was near six o'clock when I drove up to the well-known arched gate; a sharp clear evening; the breath of the panting horse showing like light smoke in the transparent air; I sprang out, while the cabman was stamping his feet, after ringing, and pushing the gate open with the familiarity of an old friend, nearly rushed into the arms of Mrs. O'Toole, who was advancing to open it.
I could see the Colonel's venerable figure in the hall, which was lighted by a pretty antique lamp, and behind him the drawing-room door stood open, showing the curtains snugly drawn, and a ruddy glow pervading the atmosphere of the room, which bespoke a noble fire somewhere.
"Musha, but ye'r welcome, Captin; an' are ye shut of the sickness entirely? There's the Masther longing to spake to ye; never mind the portmanty; give me a hoult of that carpet bag."
"Welcome, a thousand welcomes, my dear Egerton," cried Colonel Vernon, "you are in excellent time, yet we were beginning to watch for you."
We shook hands with intense cordiality, and mine was scarcely released, when something cold and damp was thrust into it; it was the fine old hound seconding his master's greeting.
"From the moment I started to the present, I have ceaselessly abused railways, stokers, engine-drivers, and all, for not going the pace more rapidly. I really thought I should never be with you soon enough; it seems such an age since we met, and I have done so much in the interim," said I. As I followed him into the drawing-room, there stood Kate in a distracting demi-toilette of white muslin, with some scarlet ribbons admirably disposed, and lighted up by the blaze of a noble fire that looked "Welcome," like every thing else.
"Ah! how glad I am to see you are come; I thought you would go away without paying us your promised visit, it was so long delayed." And once more I held her fair soft hand; once more I gazed into her clear truthful eyes that looked up to mine with so much gladness through their long sweeping lashes.
"Go, without paying my promised visit, Miss Vernon!" was my only reply, but I suppose the tone in which it was spoken, expressed how impossible such an omission was to me, for she said with a smile, as she drew away her hand, "I suppose, then, you would not have liked to leave us, sans adieu; but grandpapa, Captain Egerton has barely time to make his toilet, it is just six o'clock."
The Colonel, with old fashioned empressement, lighted me to my chamber, a little dark-panelled cell with some rude remnants of carving here and there, and one small window sunk deep in the wall. A cheerful fire blazed in what had once been a wide chimney, but which was now walled up into reasonable dimensions.
"This is the oldest part of the house," said my host; "we used it as a sort of lumber room till Kate and Nurse decided on trying to make it habitable for you; we none of us liked the idea of despatching you every night to an hotel, at this time of the year particularly; have you every thing you want?"
I thought the Priory Cottage never looked so delightfully homelike as in its winter aspect; and the pleasant candle-light dinner, to the agreeability of which Mrs. O'Toole added largely, joining in the conversation with greater ease than ever, pressing any particularly well cooked dish, as earnestly on me as if I too had been her nursling. Cormac sat gravely by Kate, accepting the bits she occasionally offered him with dignified condescension.
"On Sundays and a few great occasions, such as the present," she said with a smile, "Cormac was admitted to the dining room, but the drawing room was forbidden ground to him, he knew it quite well."
We soon adjourned to the drawing room, and as I stood on the hearth rug sipping my tea, and looking at Kate and her grandfather, sitting at opposite sides of the table, both so distinguished in their looks and manners, yet both so unlike the common herd of mere well bred people, I kept down the bitter sighs that oppressed my heart as the thought, "You must leave them and for ever," seemed to burn and fix itself indelibly on my brain.
After some enquiries about the Winters and Gilpin, who, I was sorry to hear, had not been so well, Miss Vernon observed I still looked pale and thin.
"You certainly suffered for your generous effort to save our poor friend," she added; "I can never forget your rushing back under the tottering ruins, and that awful crash!" She shuddered.
"Yes, indeed, Egerton, you look a little haggard; don't you feel strong?" enquired the Colonel.
"Why you see, Colonel, I have been a good deal cut up about all this business, and to say the truth I do not like leaving England."
"That must be because you are still suffering from the debility of indisposition," said Miss Vernon, "or such a lover of excitement as you are would be enchanted at the idea of India, and its tiger hunts, and cave temples, with a possibility of shooting or being shot."
"So I would four or five months ago; now I am paying dearly for extravagance."
"Do not be so severe on yourself; few young men can quite resist temptation," said the Colonel, kindly.
"I wonder what is the pleasure of betting; it seems very absurd," said Miss Vernon.
"How could you know anything about it?" enquired her grandfather.
"Ah thin, it's the Divil's own divirsion," observed Mrs. O'Toole, who was removing the tea things.
Our conversation on my affairs continued in the same friendly and confidential tone for some time; then the Colonel dozed, and I, approaching nearer to Kate's work table, described my evening at Allerton with the deputation from the "Parent Society." She laughed a good deal at my sketch of the Rev. Mr. Black, and said she thought she remembered him at A——. Then she told me how Mr. Winter had painted a chef d'œuvre—"The Little Landing Place," with its trees, Elijah Bush in his hairy cap, Cyclops and Cormac; and that Mrs. Winter and Miss Araminta Cox had had a quarrel, but that she had happily reconciled them; and lastly, with much earnestness in her manner, and tenderness in her tones, she spoke of Gilpin's failing health and loneliness.
"I cannot tell you, Captain Egerton, how very fond he appears to be of you, more so, even, than gratitude can account for, as if you had many sympathies in common; yet you are as unlike in character as in appearance. I am glad he likes you," she concluded, simply.
All this gossip of her little world was told in a subdued tone, not to disturb her grandfather, and so added to the sort of confidence apparently existing between us.
What an extraordinary mélange of feelings I experienced! I was within sight of paradise, as it were—I could almost grasp it, but an invisible though iron barrier held me back, so I talked on, quietly wondering at my own self-command; and sometimes, when restoring the scissors or a skein of worsted I had unconsciously abstracted from her basket, my hand would touch hers; once, on one of these occasions, she looked up and said—"How very cold you are, do stir the fire and warm yourself." I do not know what I should have said or done, had not the Colonel at that moment awoke up, shocked at his want of politeness. Then Kate went to the piano and sang song after song in her rich, soft, thrilling notes, and depth of expression, until I felt in a sort of painful ecstasy, which must in some way have been traceable on my countenance, for the Colonel suddenly stopped his granddaughter, observing how fagged I looked:
"You must go to your bed, Egerton, and don't hurry in the morning."
"Yes," said Kate, looking at me kindly, as she rang for candles, "you look quite knocked up, I'm afraid I have kept you too long from your rest."
"Maybe he ought to have wather for his feet, he looks like a ghost," said Mrs. O'Toole, in an audible aside to her young lady.
"Perhaps it might refresh you," said the latter.
"Oh! I am as strong as a giant now," said I, "thanks to your good care, Mrs. O'Toole; and if I look like a ghost it will fit me the better for the society in which you know I am to pass the night."
"Holy Mary! Captin agrah, don't spake that away of the dead!"
"Good night," said Kate.
"After your benediction, Miss Vernon, I am equal to any ghostly encounter! good night."
My first waking thought was the delightful certainty of meeting Kate at breakfast, and my second, that one day of my sojourn had already flown. With what terrible rapidity these precious last days made themselves wings and fled away into the past! I cannot dwell upon the memory of them.
I examined with great delight and loud eulogiums, the really admirable picture on which Winter was now engaged, and acknowledged that Cyclops was a first-rate subject.
"I have another here, not quite finished either," said he, "which you may perhaps think equally interesting," and he turned round a water-colour drawing. I started as it met my sight; it was Kate Vernon, sitting as was her custom, at the open window of the cottage, her cheek resting on her left hand, showing the graceful contour of her throat, and her right playing as she was wont to do, when lost in thought, with Cormac's ear; while the old hound sat gazing at her as though he would fain ask what vision engrossed her fancy. It was a most lovely picture; the lovelier for its admirable likeness to the original. How well I knew that pensive and abstracted air; the large eyes gazing dreamily into some imaginary world; the delicate, but rosy lips slightly apart; you almost expected to hear them breathe the gentle sigh with which she used to rouse herself from her reverie, and turn to tell you its subject, so truthfully and naturally. "Oh! Winter," I exclaimed, "can love or money induce you to let me take the faintest sketch of this most exquisite picture?"
He looked sharply at me, "No! no! most noble Captain, it was a labour of love, and I'll not have my beautiful pupil's lofty brow, decking the wall of a barrack room. Keep the portrait in your own heart; it may prove a talisman, but I fear the colours will fade as fast as one of Turner's most glowing pictures."
I hardly heard him as I stood; my eyes fixed on the face I was so soon to lose, as if I would stamp its lineaments indelibly on my memory; he went on—"What business would you have with Miss Vernon's likeness?"
"True, true, oh! hard of heart; yet with me it would be a sacred thing. No, do not put it away yet. Oh! skill in portrait painting is the only talent really worth cultivating. I wish to Heaven I had it! Winter, in the whole category of human ills, is there one can surpass the wretchedness of saying good bye?"
"Yes, regret, when too late, that you did not say it. Capitano mio, è meglio sdrucciolar' co' piedi che colla lingua."
The kind little artist was enchanted with the picture I brought him. It was a monk kneeling before an altar, on which the candles were burning, and the light and shade were skilfully disposed; he shook my hand repeatedly, and plunged into a learned disquisition as to the probable master by whom it was painted: he immediately invited the whole party at the Priory to dine with him, in order to discuss fully the important question of placing my gift, which he designated by the name of the giver rather incongruously.
I waited to give Kate "Proverbial Philosophy" till I could find her alone; and returning one morning from a visit to Gilpin, I found the Colonel had disappeared on some behest, and Miss Vernon in solitary possession of the drawing-room; she was working something in a frame, but the open piano proved she had been engaged in her favourite pursuit.
I threw myself into the Colonel's chair, and answered her enquiries for Gilpin; then, after a pause, stood up, and leaning against the mantel piece, said, "Miss Vernon, I met with a book in London I thought would suit you; 'Proverbial Philosophy,' have you seen it? I thought you would like it."
She stretched out her hand to receive the volume.
"Is it for me? Oh thank you! I have so much wished to have it; I shall read it with pleasure, I am sure, and give many a grateful thought to the donor."
"That is more than I would presume to expect, and I suspect the pains or pleasures of memory will fall to my share."
"No, it is those who stay at home who remember best; new scenes bring new thoughts; but I wish, Captain Egerton, we could see you start with better spirits on your travels."
"Higher spirits! how can you suppose I do not grudge every moment that brings the hour of separation nearer?"
She looked up at me as I stood leaning moodily against the mantel-piece.
"But all men must some time or other go forth amongst strangers, and few seem to regret it as you do."
"Not when they leave behind all they covet on earth—not when they must go in silence and say good bye, with a calm face and a breaking heart?"
"Oh!" cried Miss Vernon, clasping her hands, "that is terrible! God comfort such a sorrow! but at your age there is always hope; you will return, and what are a few years to a true heart?"
"I may return too late and"—
The door opened, and most opportunely the Colonel came in, for Kate was beginning to look at me with a certain startled expression, as if the truth was dawning on her, when accident, not my own self-command, saved me from breaking through the line of conduct I had myself laid down.
The next day was Christmas Day, and I knelt once more beside Kate Vernon in the old church, and heard her rich sweet notes as she joined in responses, or breathed the "Amen." And I felt the quiet absorbed attention with which she joined in the service communicate something of its earnestness to myself.
Mrs. O'Toole came in after we returned from church to show herself in her scarlet shawl.
"It's a grand colour entirely," said she, "as warm as your own heart, Captin jewil, an' it's the hard word to say good bye to ye; sorra one of me, but the salt tears is in me eyes when I think iv it."
Gilpin and the Winters dined with us that day; we had a pleasant cheerful dinner; I was determined to enjoy myself if possible, but it would not do, I was but seeming after all. I felt each passing moment was deepening the lines of my character; no wonder that the strongest exertion of my self command only sufficed to silence any expression that might damp my companions' mirth, but could not enable me to add my quota to the general stock; my only consolation was to look at Kate's smooth calm brow, and thank Heaven I had never attempted to raise any feeling in her breast, that could have resulted in the aching sadness which oppressed my own; she might have loved me, for hers was too loving a nature to be insensible of affection, and a true and earnest heart is always worth any woman's acceptance; and as I met her ready, unconcealed, and sympathising glance, that often and openly sought mine, I breathed a silent ejaculation, "God preserve her from sorrow and suffering!"
We had a good deal of music, much of it sacred, and appropriate to the day; but before we separated Kate sang the "Land of the Stranger;" it is little more than recitative, but the expression with which she sang it, and her full clear honied notes!—oh how impossible to write down, in so many measured words, the strong tide of mingled emotions and passionate wishes which swept across my soul as I listened to that voice!
But I will not dwell any longer on these last sweet painful days. Now, even now, writing in all the sobered calm of older years, I find my pen hurrying on in the vain effort to depict what language cannot convey.
Winter invited us to spend my last evening with him; I would have preferred far to have spent it uninterruptedly at the Priory, but it was not so! At the little supper, which as usual closed the entertainment, our good host proposed my health as follows:—
"I know you'll agree that the toast I'm about to give is one we can all drink with unalloyed satisfaction. I give you the health of one who has passed through the fire of fashion and frivolity, and yet kept a corner of his heart for truth and reality, and preserved enough of good taste to turn from a clique, of which I may fairly say, O t' ha ingannato, o ingannar ti vuole, to the more tangible world of action; one to whom we owe the existence of a valued friend (Carramba! Gilpin, it would have been all over with you but for him); in a word I give you, 'Fred Egerton.'"
The toast was most enthusiastically received, even Miss Vernon clapped her hands approvingly; I made an appropriate acknowledgment, and soon after, apropos to my new Regiment, Kate turned to me and said, "By the bye I always forgot to tell you, Nurse has a son in the 26th Lancers; pray do not forget to give Denis O'Toole opportunities of distinguishing himself. I have written a letter for her to him, which I will give you to-morrow."
And the parting moment came fast, too fast.
"Well, good bye, my dear Egerton," said the Colonel, grasping my hand in both of his, which shook a little, "in all human probability I shall never see you more; take an old man's blessing with you."
"I can never forget the happy days I have spent with you, my dear sir; I will write from Bombay—if I have time, from Alexandria. Do not let me quite escape your memory!"
I took Kate's hand, I ventured to hold it in both of mine—I could utter no word, but gazed long and silently into her sweet, calm eyes: she looked pale, but seemed perfectly composed.
"God bless you, Captain Egerton, and make you happy," she said, in a somewhat unsteady voice.
I turned and left the room without a word!
"Christ shield ye from harm, captin jewil," sobbed Mrs. O'Toole, "don't be down-hearted entirely, sure there's many a prayer goes wid ye, an' the coldest hour is the hour before daydawn. Holy Mary keep ye, an' don't forget the letther for me poor boy."
"Nurse, dear Nurse, good-bye, I'll take care of your son."
And my last glimpse of the Priory gate showed me Mrs. O'Toole with her apron to her eyes, and Cormac looking uneasily after me.
Another day, and I stood at the stern of the steamer which was rapidly cleaving the smooth waters, straining my eyes after the quickly vanishing land, my arms folded tightly on my chest, as if to press down the bitterness that swelled my heart into the stern stillness of manful endurance: all the events of the last four months, even to their minutiæ, stood clear before me; and as the distant outline of the land I was leaving—probably for ever—faded from my sight, and I felt the keen pang that in leaving it I left my all, which has rent many a heart, Kate Vernon's words flashed back upon my memory—"I am quite sure that a stedfast resignation to what you have brought upon yourself; an unmurmuring struggle to retrieve, will work its own cure;" and I slowly turned to go below, feeling how great was the change wrought in me since life presented no deeper ill than an unlucky change of quarters.
END OF VOL. I.
T. C. Newby, Printer, 30, Welbeck-street, Cavendish-square.
POPULAR NEW NOVELS
JUST PUBLISHED
BY MR. T. C. NEWBY.
Now ready, at every Library,
RUTH EARNLEY.
By Mrs. MACKENZIE DANIELS,
Author of 'My Sister Minnie,' 'Gertrude Cameron.'