Kitabı oku: «By Birth a Lady», sayfa 9
Volume Two – Chapter One.
Clouds at the Court
“Well, Charley my boy,” said Sir Philip Vining, a few mornings after, “you must keep the ball rolling. You are going along swimmingly. But ladies like plenty of attentions. What are you going to do next? Can’t you get up something fresh? Don’t spare for money, my boy: I’ve – that is, we’ve plenty, you know; and I like to be lavish as far as the income allows. It’s an old-fashioned idea of mine, Charley, that it is the duty of a landlord, deriving a handsome revenue from a neighbourhood, to spend that revenue liberally in his district. It’s no waste, you know; it is all distributed amongst the people, and does some good. By the way, though, I think you might be a little more attentive to Laura. She’s a fine girl, Charley: perhaps a little too masculine; but it’s surprising how love and matrimony soften down that class of women. I saw you with her yesterday along with that Miss Bedford or Rutland – which was her name?”
“Bedford,” said Charley quietly.
“To be sure – Bedford,” said the old gentleman; “and the children. Seems a very ladylike young person. I was rather taken with her nice, sad, gentle face. One can almost read trouble in it. Pity a girl like her should have to lead such a life as that of a governess!”
Charley was silent; and Sir Philip, seeing him thoughtful, took up the paper.
And indeed Charley Vining was thoughtful and troubled in mind. He had encountered Ella twice since the day of the fête, to find her cold and distant. But then she had been in the company of Laura. All the same, though, it struck him as strange that the haughty beauty should have taken it into her head to accompany her in her walks: it looked like supervising her actions; and again and again Charley reverted to Nelly’s warning, and longed for a few words with her; but so far it was in vain. He had called twice, to meet Laura and Mrs Bray, Max having returned to town. His reception had been most flattering, and there was a gentle, retiring way with Laura that troubled him; for he felt that he must be giving her pain, and his was too generous a disposition to suffer in peace the knowledge that he was causing others trouble or care. But call or walk, save in the society of Laura, neither Nelly nor Ella could be seen; and leaving Sir Philip immersed in the day’s news, Charley left the room, went round to the stables, and had his mare saddled.
Still no luck. He did not even see them that day; and time slipped by without fortune smiling upon him. He called again and again at the Elms; but Nelly and her governess were always invisible, while Laura was still more gentle and retiring. Once he asked to see Nelly, and she was fetched down, evidently longing to take him into her confidence; but opportunity was not afforded; and at last one morning, with the feeling strong upon him that Laura was playing a part, and that he was being debarred from seeing Ella alone, Charley sat listening to the pleasant banter of Sir Philip over the breakfast-table, till, seeing his son’s moody looks, the old gentleman became serious; for his conversation had all turned upon Charley’s visits to the Elms, and his great love for woodland and meadow rambles.
“Why, my dear boy,” Sir Philip had said, “I’d no idea that I was going to make such a solemn fellow of you. Certainly matrimony should be taken au sérieux; but I’m afraid the lady is hard to win.”
A few minutes after Sir Philip rose; for Charley had turned uneasily in his chair, so that his face was averted.
“My dear Charley,” said the old gentleman, going round the table, and making the young man start as he felt that loving hand laid upon his shoulder, – “my dear Charley, I have hurt your feelings in some way. Pray forgive me.”
Charley groaned.
“My dear boy,” said Sir Philip, “what does this mean? Surely my old-womanish babbling has not upset you like this! It was only lightly meant. Or is there something wrong?”
Charley turned his face to his father’s for an instant, but only to avert it again.
“Is it anything to do with money, Charley?” said the old gentleman. “But pooh – nonsense! It isn’t that, I know. Your personal expenses are ridiculously small. Why, I expected that by this time you would have half ruined yourself in jewellery presents. What is it, Charley? Can you not confide in me?”
“No, father,” cried Charley, starting angrily to his feet, and overturning his chair; “I have been showing you for the past month that I cannot. But I can stand this no longer,” he cried, striding up and down the room; “for it is not in my nature to play the hypocrite!”
“Hypocrite, Charley! My dear boy, what is it?”
“What is it!” exclaimed Charley fiercely. “You think that I am going day after day to some assignation with that – that – that – with Laura Bray!”
“Good heavens, Charley! what does this mean?”
“Mean, father! Why, that I am a hypocrite, and deceiving one who has always been generous and kind. It means, too, that my life has been turned to gall and bitterness; for I am going about like some puling boy, seeking in vain for a kind word from the woman who has robbed me of all that seems bright in life.”
“But, Charley, what does this mean? I thought – I felt sure – ”
“Yes,” cried Charley bitterly; “and I was so mean, so base and contemptible, as to let you believe that I loved Laura Bray, and ask her here, as if – Heaven forgive me! – I blushed for my love for a woman who – There, I can’t talk of it – I can’t enter into it. Father, why did you stop the even tenor of my life? But no!” he cried, as he recalled his first meeting, “it was not your doing. I am half mad with disappointment, and know not what I say. A few weeks ago, and I could mock at the word Love, while now it is as though something was robbing me of sleep by night, rest by day, and my old zest for life. Father, I tell you I love – and love almost madly – a woman who rejects my suit, who turns from me, while every effort to see her now seems to be frustrated.”
“But, Charley,” cried the old man, his hands trembling with agitation, as, following his son about the room, he sought to drive away the suspicion that was beginning to enlighten him, “who is this lady? You are too timid – too diffident. Surely no one we know would refuse you. Pooh! my dear boy, you have taken the distemper almost too strongly,” he continued, with a forced laugh. “But who is it? – one of the Miss Lingons?”
Charley turned angrily upon him, as if suspecting him of banter, but only to see truth and earnestness in the old man’s troubled countenance.
“Father,” he said calmly, “I love Ella Bedford.”
“Who? Miss Bedford?” cried the old man excitedly. “You are joking with me, my boy,” he said huskily; “and it is ungenerous, Charley. You know how I have set my mind on this – on your marriage – our pedigree, my son, our ancient lineage. Think, Charley, of your position.”
“I do, father,” said Charley sternly.
“But, my boy,” exclaimed Sir Philip angrily, “it is madness! You, soon to be a baronet, with one of the finest rent-rolls in the county, and to stoop to a governess!”
“To a lady, father!” cried Charley fiercely now, as he stood facing Sir Philip. “You told me you wished me to marry. Can I govern my own heart? I told you once that I did not believe so good and pure a woman as my dear mother lived on this earth. I retract it now, and own, father, that it was said in the blind ignorance of my foolish conceit; for I know now that there are women walking this lower earth of ours whom I cruelly calumniated, for they might be taken as the types of the angels above. Father, I love one of these women with a strong man’s first fierce love – with the passion long chained, now almost at your bidding let loose, and before heaven I swear that – ”
“For heaven’s sake be silent, Charley, my dear child!” cried Sir Philip almost frantically, as he laid his hand on his son’s lips.
Then with a groan he shrank away, staggered to his chair, and buried his face in his hands, while with face working, brow flushed, and the veins standing out in his forehead, Charley stood struggling between the two loves, when he turned; for the door opened, and the servant handed to him a letter that made his face flush a deeper hue.
Volume Two – Chapter Two.
Nelly a Correspondent
Charley Vining took the letter with trembling hand from the silver salver upon which it lay, glancing the while at the superscription, written in an awkward scrawly character, as if the sender had been possessed of a wild unbroken colt of a pen, which would shy and buck and dart about as it should not; but as well as if some one had been present to whisper to him that that letter contained trouble, its recipient knew it, and hesitated to tear open the envelope. He gazed at the address once more, then at the bent figure of his father, and took a step forward to speak – but no, he could not. He felt half unmanned, and that his words would be choked in their utterance; and turning hastily round, he hurried from the room, his last glance showing him Sir Philip with his face still covered by his hands; and Charley’s heart smote him as he thought of the pain he had inflicted upon that noble heart.
Unintentionally, upon hurrying out of the house, Charley made his way to the part of the grounds where stood the rose-tree from which he had plucked that blossom – the spot where he had told his love, believing that it fell only upon the ears he wished, but all the same in the presence of three witnesses – the false and the true. But the roses were gone – only a few brown withered petals yet clung to the branches; and recalling how Ella had fled from him, he once more threw himself into the garden seat, and with an effort tore open the letter.
And then he could not read it; for the characters swam before his eyes, till savagely calling himself “girl!”
“Idiot!” and setting his teeth firmly upon his nether lip, he read as follows:
“My Own Dearest Charley Vining, – This is not a love letter, though I do indede love you very much indede (and those are both spelt wrong; only if I smudge them over and alter them, they will be so hard to read). I do love you very much indede, though not in that way, you know, but as I should love brother Max if he wasn’t such a donkey. I’ve been wanting to speek to you so verry, verry, verry bad, but Laury has watched me and Miss Bedford just like two mice (I mean like a cat, only my eyes are so swelled up with crying that I don’t hardly know what I’m saying or doing), and I have such a lot to tell you, enough to brake your hart, and I’m speling this worse and wors, though Dear Miss Bedford took such pains with me, and it’s all about her I want to talk to you, only I won’t say what, in case you don’t see this yourself. So you must please come and meet me to-night in Gorse Wood, and it won’t be rong, for I’m only a girl and a child; yet sometimes though I can’t help feeling womanish, and feeling half and half too. But you always did play with and pet me, Charley, and i know you love somebody else verry much, and so do I, so that it won’t be wrong, only candlestine. Mind and come at 7, whilst they’re at dinner, and I shall tell Milly and Do that I’m going to get some pairs. So plees to fill both of your pockets verry full of those early ones, same as you gave me last year. And plees excuse all mistakes, for i write in a great hurry, and don’t forget to come, for I’ve got to tell you all about some one you gave the rose to when you thought No one was looking.
“Mamma and Papa desire their best compliments, and with best love, i am, deer Charley Vining,
“Youre afectionate friend,“Nelly Sophia Bray.
“P.S. That’s all nonsense about Ma and Pa sending their complements, only it sliped in, and if I smudge it out, the letter looks so bad; and it don’t mater, does it? for I haven’t got time to write another letter, only don’t forget to come.”
Charley Vining was too troubled at heart to smile at poor Nelly’s letter, as, doubling it back into its former folds, he sat wondering what news the girl could have for him. He did not like the idea of obeying her wishes, but he felt that he must go: the hints the letter contained were too strong to be resisted. If they were seen, what would it matter after all? for Nelly was but a child, he told himself – the great tomboy whom he had romped and played with again and again. There was something about it, though, that he did not like, but a re-perusal of the letter decided him; and more for a means of passing the time than for any other purpose he went round to the stables, and mounting his favourite, rode slowly away, heedless that, looking ten years older, Sir Philip Vining was watching him from the study window.
Volume Two – Chapter Three.
Reversed Proceedings
Some people might have called Charley Vining a spoiled child, who had had everything he wished for from his earliest days, and now, at the first disappointment in life, was turning pettish and angry. True enough so far, his every whim had been gratified, and perhaps this made him feel the more bitterly that this newly-awakened desire should be thwarted on every side.
Try what he would, all seemed against him – father, friends, even the object of his choice herself; and he needed no one to tell him that the greatest care was taken to prevent all interviews. That Laura had a great deal to do with it he was sure, with out Nelly’s confirmatory words. Max too might have some influence; but it was in vain that he thought – matters would only look more and more rugged on ahead; and at length, longing, in spite of his dislike to the meeting, for the evening to come, he cantered away.
“I only wish I were clever,” he muttered. “Some men would scheme a score of plans; but as for me, I understand horses and dogs, and that is about – ”
Charley’s thoughts were directed the next moment into another channel; for turning a corner sharply, he came upon a family party from the Elms, consisting of Laura Bray and her two youngest sisters, with Max angrily stamping, clenched of fist and with his face distorted with rage.
“It’s all a confounded plot of yours, Laury – it is, bai Jove!” he screamed in an excited voice, the very counterpart of his mother’s.
“Indeed, indeed, Max, you wrong me,” she cried. “It was not – Hush! here’s Charley Vining.”
“How do, Miss Bray?” he said, reining in, and trying to be cordial. – “Ah, Max, I thought you were in town. – Well, little ones, how are you off for fruit?”
“Nelly’s going to have lots to-night,” said Do, the youngest “child;” and the blood flushed up in Charley’s face as he thought of the note he had received, – for he was as transparent as a girl.
“Bai Jove! ya-a-s,” said Max. “Been in town, but thought I’d run down again for a bit.”
“What for?” said Charley Vining’s jealous heart, as he recalled the excited way in which Max had been gesticulating before his sister.
Max looked half disposed to be sulky; but he caught a meaning glance from Laura, when, feeling that he could not afford to fall off from his part of the compact he had made with her, he commenced talking to his youngest sister, just as Charley’s eyes flashed, his nostrils distended, and, evidently moved by some strong emotion, he leaped from his horse, gazing eagerly the while at Max’s watch-chain, and then at Max himself, with a fierce questioning look; which the exquisite responded to with a quiet self-satisfied smirk, ran his fingers along the chain, played with the locket and other ornaments to it attached, and then, with a side glance of insolent triumph, he thrust the little finger of his kid glove into a ring which hung there, turned it about a few times, and then walked on with the girls.
Charley Vining’s heart felt as if something were making it contract, as if he were seized by some fearful spasm; for that ring – he would swear it – that ring had once encircled Ella Bedford’s finger, and had lain in his palm. He had noticed it particularly, as he had longed to press his lips to the hand it graced – no, that graced the little bauble. What did it mean, then? – what was Nelly’s news that she had to communicate? He could have groaned aloud as his heart whispered that he was – not supplanted – but that that empty-headed conceited dandy had been able to carry off the prize he had so earnestly sought – that heartless boasting fop, who esteemed a woman’s purest best feelings as deeply as he did the quality of his last box of cigars. It was plain enough the ring was a gift, and had been replaced by another.
“I am a fool – a romantic boy!” thought Charley to himself; “and there is no such thing as genuine passion and feeling in this world; at least, I am not discriminating enough to know it. Here have I been grasping at the shadow when I could have possessed the substance. But, O!” he mentally groaned, “how sweet was that shadow, and how bitter is the substance!”
“Have I offended you, Charley?” said a deep soft voice at his ear – a voice trembling with emotion; and starting back to the present, the muser saw that Max had walked on some yards in advance with the girls, and that, with his horse’s bridle over his arm, he was standing by Laura, whose hand was half raised, as if ready to be laid upon his arm, while her great dark eyes, swimming with tenderness, were gazing appealingly in his.
There was something new in Laura’s manner, something he had not seen before. She was quiet, subdued, and timid; there was a tremulousness in her voice; and with the feelings that agitated him then swaying him from side to side, it was with a strange sense of trouble that he turned to her, half flinching as he did so.
“Have I hurt your feelings in some way?” she said, for he did not reply, and her voice was lower and deeper. “You seem so changed, so different, and it grieves me more than you can think.”
It was very dangerous. There had been a sudden discovery coming directly upon Nelly’s announcement that she had something grievous to impart. He had evidently been looked upon as a rude uncultivated boor, and this London exquisite had been preferred before him. In his poor country ignorance, he had been looking upon Ella Bedford’s words as the utterances of a saint, gazing at her every act through a couleur de rose medium, till now, when he was rudely awakened from his simple love-dream; while, as if offering balm for the wound, here was a passionate loving woman talking, nay, breathing to him in whispers her tender reproaches for what she evidently looked upon as his neglect.
What could he do? He felt that his faith to one he loved would be firm as a rock; but he owed no allegiance – he had been played with – and this woman to whom he had breathed his love had preferred gloss and polish to his simple homely ways.
It was thus that Charley Vining reasoned with himself, as slightly raising his arm he, as it were, made the first step towards a future of trouble; for the next instant Laura’s hand was laid gently upon that arm, and they were sauntering slowly along. She, trembling and excited; he, swayed by varied emotions – disappointment, rage, bitterness, and added to all, the knowledge that he had left that gentle loving old man heart-broken at his persistence in what he now owned to himself had been a wild insane passion.
“You do not speak – you say nothing to me,” said Laura softly, as she turned slightly, so as to look in his face. “I must in some way have unwittingly caused you annoyance. But there, Charley, I will not dissemble; I know why you are angry, and I must speak. You will think lightly of me – you will even sneer,” she said, and he could see that the tears were running down her cheeks, and that her breast heaved painfully; “but I cannot help it; I must speak now that for once there is an opportunity. You are vexed with me because I was so madly angry with you for flirting. But you would not be, Charley, if you knew all. I don’t think you would willingly hurt any one; but thoughtless acts sometimes give great pain.”
Charley did not reply, but his arm trembled as they walked on, Laura’s passionate words being very truthful, as by a bold stroke she tried to recover the ground she told herself that she had lost.
“See how humble I am. I never, that I can remember, asked pardon before of any one, but I do of you; and I feel humbled and abased as I think, for I know it is enough to make you mock at me. But though you refuse to know my heart, I know yours well, and that it is too much that of a gentleman for you ever to make me repent of what I say.”
Still Charley was silent, though Laura paused to hear him speak. This interview had been unexpected, and had come upon her by surprise; but, led away by her feelings, words in torrents were pressing upon one another ready to pour forth, and she had to struggle hard to keep those words within due bounds, lest in her agitation she should make a broader avowal than that already uttered, and cause him to turn from her in disgust.
“Have I so deeply offended you? Can you not pardon me? Is mine such a sin against you, Charley, that I am always to suffer – suffer more deeply than you can believe?”
“I am not offended,” he said gently. “Indeed, you mistake me.”
“Charley!” she exclaimed in a burst of passionate emotion; for the soft, gently-spoken words seemed to sweep away the barrier that she should have more sternly supported – “I cannot help it; I am half heart-broken. You have been cruel to me; you have maddened me into saying things, and treating you in my rage in a way that has torn my own breast. But you will forgive me – you will be to me as you were a few months back – and, above all, promise me this, that you will not think lightly of me for this. Indeed, indeed, I cannot, cannot help it; I – I – ”
Laura’s voice was choked by her passionate sobs; and trembling himself with emotion, mingled of sorrow, pity, and an undefined sense of tenderness evoked by what he had heard, Charley Vining was moved to say a few words perhaps more warmly than under other circumstances he might have done. He did not love Laura Bray – he almost disliked her; but if there was any vanity in his composition, it was sure to be stirred now, when a young and ardent woman was, in the most unmistakable terms, telling him of her love, and imploring his forgiveness for her past resentment.
Charley Vining was but human. His heart had been deeply torn; and in spite of himself his voice softened, and he was about to say words that might have been too sympathising in their nature, when Laura’s eyes flashed with bitterness and mortification. Had she possessed the power, she would have turned her to stone where she stood; for, with a laugh half merry, half sad, Nelly came running up, and pressing herself between him and the horse, she caught hold of Charley’s other arm.
Charley gave a sigh of relief, as rousing himself, he exclaimed, “ah, Nelly!”
“I didn’t mean to go for a walk,” said Nelly; “but thought I’d come and meet them; and I can’t walk with Milly and Do, because of old Max; so I’ve come here.”
They say that two are company, three none: and if ever those words were true, they were so here. But, in spite of her mortification, and the agitation brought on by her imprudent avowal, Laura’s heart bounded; for she read, or thought she read, on parting, what she called her pardon in Charley Vining’s eyes.
