CHAPTER IX.
ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
It is the end of the first week in January—bleak, black January! Outside Looton the snow is falling lightly but persistently; already it is a foot deep in the park. It is a bitterly cold, dreary, dark evening. Not a single living creature is abroad that can possibly find shelter. What a night for the homeless—what a night for the miserable starving birds!
Inside Looton the prospect is much more cheerful. A huge log fire is roaring up the chimney of the great hall, lighting up the frames of dingy-looking portraits, reflecting itself in more than one dinted steel cuirass and battered casque, and generally illuminating the arms and armour of many a dead and gone Fairfax.
A large mastiff lies luxuriously at full length on a tiger-skin before the fire; but of other living inmates the room is empty. The letter-box stands on the table; no one is looking—let us have a peep. Here is an epistle from Mrs. Mayhew to Miss Saville, which will doubtless tell us all the family news.
“Looton, Jan. 5th.
“My dear Miss Saville,
“I am quite ashamed of myself for never having answered your kind New Year’s letter. But you have no idea what a whirl we have been living in since Christmas. I never seem to have a moment to myself.
“Nearly all the party have gone out skating to-day—an amusement not at all in my line—so at last I have an hour to devote to my many indignant correspondents.
“You have heard from Alice frequently, of course, and I am sure she has told you how much we have missed you, and how disappointed she and Regy have been at your absence. It is really too bad of your old enemy, rheumatism, to seize on you just at this time.
“We have had such a Christmas! Reginald and Alice determined that, as it was the first they had ever spent together, they would celebrate the occasion properly. There was a dinner to the tenantry, to whom Maurice was duly presented in the character of the heir. Theatricals and a ball entertained the grandees; nor were the poor forgotten—beef, coals, warm clothes, and money were lavishly bestowed on every side. The master and mistress of Looton are so happy themselves, they do their very best to spread that rather scarce commodity in all directions, and share it with rich and poor, as far as money and kind words and deeds can go.
“You will like to hear all about Alice and Regy from a third party, especially as I know how reticent Alice is about herself—her letters are probably filled with Maurice and Reginald, Reginald and Maurice.
“Four months in Italy have worked wonders for her. She has completely recovered her blooming cheeks, her gay spirits, and, above all, her health. She still looks a mere girl in her teens, and as little of the matron as ever. I have done my best to put a stop to her hunting, but it is of no use, especially as she has Regy’s permission and countenance. He only takes her when the distances are moderate and the country to match, and as she is always superbly mounted, and well looked after and piloted by her husband, I don’t think you need be nervous; and I must say they both enjoy it so much, and look so supremely happy when setting out together on a hunting morning, that it seems almost a pity to make any more protests.
“Reginald is a changed man—no longer silent, morose, and cynical; he is my own dear light-hearted Regy once more, and enters into everything with as much zest and spirit as Geoff himself. A happier couple than he and Alice could not be found. It is a pleasure to see them together. She runs a good chance of being completely spoiled, only for her sweet, unselfish disposition. She is allowed her own way in everything. Fortunately it is Reginald’s way too, so there is no harm done. Their opinions, wishes, and tastes seem to be identical. Some day or other Alice’s individuality will be completely lost and absorbed in Reginald’s stronger mind and will. I tell him this sometimes, and make him extremely angry. I am keeping our great piece of news to the last, as a bonne bouche. I am sure you will be interested to know that Captain Vaughan and Mary Ferrars are engaged. He has been here since the first week in December, and their happiness is now of a whole week’s standing. They seem to be very well suited and mutually in love. He confided to me that it was the extreme felicity of Reginald and Alice that had encouraged him to follow their example. This time last year who would have believed that they would be the couple—of all others—to lure their friends into matrimony? At times I feared a very different conclusion. However, they fully bear out the good old saying, ‘All’s well that ends well.’
“With love and best wishes for the New Year, ever, dear Miss Saville,
“Yours affectionately,
“Helen Mayhew.”
THE END.
CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.