Page images
PDF
EPUB
[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

Nothing to signify," said John; and Fred gave him a nod, and began to eat his soup with an indifference which was balm to the other's excited feelings. Finding thus that no gratitude was claimed of him, John grew generous. I hear it was you who dragged me out; and I have never had a chance of thanking you," he said.

66

[ocr errors]

66

Thanking me what for? I don't remember dragging any one out," said Fred. "It was very hot work. I did not rush into the thick of it, like you, to do any good; but I daresay I could give the best description of it. Have they found out how much damage was done? - but I suppose the bank is still going on all the same." "Banks cannot stop," said John, " unless things are going very badly with them indeed."

66

[ocr errors]

"That comes of going in for a special study," said Huntley; you always did know all about political economy, didn't you? No, it wasn't you, it was Sutherland never mind; if you have not studied it theoretically, you have practically. I often think if I had gone in for business it would have been better for me on the whole." "You have less occasion to say so than most men," said John.

"Because we are well off? or because I have got my fellowship, and that sort of thing? I don't know that it matters much. A man has to work or else," said Fred, with a sigh, swallowing something more than that entrée, "he drifts somehow into mischief whether he will or no."

Did he cast a glance at the head of the table as he spoke, where Kate sat radiant, dispensing her smiles on either hand? It was difficult to imagine why he did so, and yet so it seemed. John looked at her too, and for the moment his heart failed him. Could he say, as she herself had suggested, "After all she is my Kate and no one's else," as she sat there in all her splendour ? What could he give her that would bear comparison? Of all the men at her father's table, he was the most humble. At that moment he caught Kate's eye, and she gave him the most imperceptible little nod, the brightest momentary glance. She acknowledged him when even his own faith failed

[blocks in formation]

him with a grave, wondering, almost sympathetic interest. Of course Fred's countenance changed as soon as he found that it was perceived, and sank into the ordinary expressionless look of good society. He was the spectator looking on at this drama, and felt himself so much better qualified to judge than either of those more closely concerned.

"How do you like Fernwood?" Huntley began, with some precipitation. "It is rather too full to be pleasant while you are half an invalid, isn't it? Does your arm give you much pain ?"

46

It is very full," said John, "and one is very much alone among a crowd of people whom one does not know."

"You will soon get to know them," said Fred, consolingly; "people are very easy to get on with nowadays on the whole." "I am going away on Thursday," said John.

"What! the day after to-morrow? before your arm is better, or - anything different? Do you know, Mitford, I think you stand a good deal in your own light."

"That may be," John said, hotly, "but there are some personal matters of which one can only judge for one's self."

Fred made no answer to this; he shrugged his shoulders a little as who should say, It is no business of mine, and began to talk of politics and the member for Camelford, about whose election there were great searchings of heart in the borough and its neighbourhood. An inquiry was going on in the town, and disclosures were being made which excited the district. The two young men turned their thoughts, or at least their conversation, to that subject, and seemed to forget everything else; but whether the election committee took any very strong hold upon them, or if they were really much interested about the doings of the man in the moon, it would be hard to say.

The drawing-room was very bright and very gay that evening like a scene in a play, John was tempted to think. There was a great deal of music, and he sat in his corner and looked and saw everything, and would have been amused but for the sinking of his heart. Kate was in the very centre of it all, guiding and directing, as it was natural she should be. The spectator in the corner watched her by the piano, now taking a part, now accompanying, now throwing herself back into her chair with an air of relief when something elaborate had been set agoing, and whispering and smiling behind her fan to some favoured being, though never to himself. The drawing

"Were

you asleep, Mitford ?" he said; "I don't much wonder. It's very amusing, but it's very_monotonous night after night."

I have not had so much of it as you have, to get tired of it," said John.

66

to feel himself left out in the cold. Of
course you can't have any such sensations
in this house - but I have felt it; and Ka-
Miss Crediton, though she is an admirable
hostess, can't be everywhere at once."
"But she can send ambassadors," said
John, with a faint attempt at a smile.

"Oh yes; of course she can send ambassadors," said Huntley, confused, "when she has any ambassadors to send. I wanted to ask you, Mitford, about that archæological business your father takes so much interest in. I hear they are to visit Dulchester

room was long and lofty, with an open fortably in it, and said nothing for a minarched doorway at either end leading to ute. Then he yawned (was that, too, done the anteroom on one side and the boudoir on purpose?) and turned to John. on the other. It was at the latter end that John sat; and now and then people would go past him into the small room to bouder, or otherwise amuse themselves; and in his weariness his eyes sometimes followed these passing figures, not that he was attracted Well, perhaps there is something in by them, but only, as weary watchers have that; but, after all, there are some nice a way of doing, that he might perhaps see people here. The worst for a new-comer," some change that should be more pleasant said Fred, poising himself lazily in his chair, to him when his eyes returned to their" is, that everybody has made acquaintance natural centre. When they did so, how- before he comes; and till he has been there ever, he saw something which flushed him for some time and gets used to it, he is apt with a sudden pang and heat. It was Fred Huntley, to whom Kate was speaking. He was stooping down over her, leaning on the back of a chair, and Kate's face was raised to him and half-screened with her fan. Their talk looked very confidential, very animated and friendly; and it seemed to John (but that must have been a mistake) that she gave him just the tips of her fingers as she dismissed him. Fred rose from the chair on which he had been half kneeling with a little movement of his head, which Kate reciprocated, and went off upon a meandering passage round the room. She had given him some commission, John felt - "Did she tell you that?" said John. to him, and not to me, he said bitterly in "My dear fellow, say to me plainly, I have his heart, and then tried to comfort himself, been sent to talk to you and draw you out. not very successfully, with the words she That is reasonable and comprehensible, and had taught him, After all, she is my Kate I should not be ungrateful. But let us talk and not his." Was she John's? or was it since we are required to do so. When are all a dream and phantasmagoria, that might you likely to be at Westbrook? I want to vanish in an instant and leave no trace be-go home one of these days; and my mother hind? He felt that if he closed his eyes for would like to see you, to thank you a moment, he might find, on re-opening "To thank me for what?" said Fred, them, that all the lights and the brightness with much consternation. had vanished, that the music had resolved "For dragging me out of that fire. I itself into some chance bourdonnement of don't say for saving my life, for it did not bird or insect, and that he should know come to that but still you have laid me himself to be in fact, as he was in spirit, under a great obligation," said John, with alone. And he did close his eyes in the a setting together of his teeth which did not caprice of a heart very ill at ease. When look much like gratitude; and then he rose he opened them again he found that some-up suddenly and went away out of the cor thing had happened more disenchanting ner, leaving Huntley alone in the chair, and than if the light had turned into darkness and the gay sounds into nothing. It was that Fred Huntley was approaching himself, and that this was the mission with which Kate, giving him the tips of her fingers, had intrusted the man whom of all others it most revolted him to be put in charge of. Fred managed the business very cleverly, and would have taken in any unsuspicious person; but John, on the contrary, was horribly suspicious, looking for pricks at all possible points. The ambassador threw himself into a vacant chair which happened to be handy, and stretched himself out com

[ocr errors]

[ocr errors]

not so happy as his wont. As for John himself, he was stung to exertions quite unusual to him. He went and talked politics, and university talk, and sporting talk, with a variety of men. He did not approach any of the ladies his heart was beating too fast for that; but he stood up in the doorway and against the walls wherever the men of the party most congregated. And he never so much as looked at the creature who was at once his delight and his torment during all the long weary tedious evening, which looked as if it never would come to an end and leave him at peace.

CHAPTER XIX.

Lady Winton she was like me when she was a girl, and I shall be like her when I am an old lady. You know it is so."

And she paused a moment just beside him, with her hand on Lady Winton's chair, and looked into John's pale face as he rose at her appeal. Something was wrong Kate was not sure what. Lady Winton, perhaps, had been annoying him with questions, or Fred Huntley with criticism. It did not occur to her that she herself could be the offender. She looked into John's face, meaning to say a thousand things to him with her eyes, but his were blank, and made no reply.

"She was prettier than you are, Kate," said Lady Winton, with a smile.

NEXT morning John packed himself up before he saw any one. He had not slept all night. It is true that the incidents of the past evening had been trifling enough - not of sufficient consequence to affect, as his sudden departure might do, the entire complexion of his life. It was only as a climax, indeed, that they were of any importance at all; but as such, they had wound him up to a point of resolution. The present state of affairs, it was evident, could not go on. Had he been a mere idle man of society, he said to himself, in whose life this perpetual excitement might supply a painful-pleasant sensation, then it might have been possible; but he could not, love "Nay," said John, unawares. He had as he might, wear away his existence in not meant to enter into the talk - but to watching a girl's face, or waiting for such look at her standing there before him in her moments of her society as she might be fresh morning dress, in all her perfection able to give him. It was impossible: of youth and sweetness, and to believe that better to go away where he should never anybody had ever been more lovely, was see her again; better to give up for ever all impossible. At that moment, when he was the joys of life, than wear out every vestige about to leave her, he could have bent down of manliness within him in this hopeless and kissed the hem of her dress. It way. He had been born to higher uses seemed the only fitting thing to do, but it and better purposes surely, or where was could not be done before all these people. the good of being born at all? According- Kate was more and more perplexed what ly he prepared all his belongings for instant he could mean. His eyes which had been departure. He did not enter on the ques- blank, lighted up all in a moment, and tion, what should come after, or whether spoke things to her which she could not unany result would follow. He was not break-derstand. What was the meaning of the ing off anything, he said to himself. Kate pathos in them the melancholy, the dumb was still dearer to him than anything in appeal that almost made her cry? She earth or heaven, he acknowledged with a gave a little laugh instead, much fluttered sigh; but unless perhaps time or Providence and disturbed in her mind the while, and might arrange the terms of their intercourse nodded her head and went on to her seat at on a more possible footing, that intercourse the head of the table. for the present must be suspended. He I could not go on. With this resolution in his mind he went down-stairs; and looked so pale, that he attracted the attention of the lady who sat next to him at the breakfast-table, where Kate, who was so often late, had not yet appeared.

"When one's friends begin to discuss one's looks, don't you think it is best to withdraw?" she said. "Oh, thanks, Madeline, for doing my duty. It is so wretched to be late. Please, somebody, have some tea."

And then the ordinary talk came in and swept this little episode out of sight.

"I am afraid you are ill," she said; "I When breakfast was over, and one after fear your arm pains you more than usual. another the guests began to disperse to their I think I knew your mother, Mr. Mitford, morning occupations, Kate, turning round a thousand years ago. Was not she a Miss to accompany one of the last to the mornOlive, of Burton? Ah, yes! I remember ing room, where all the embroidery and the one of the prettiest girls I ever saw. I practising and the gossip went on, had her think you are a little like her," said uncomfortable thoughts brought back in a this benevolent woman, with a slight hesita- moment by the sight of John standing right tion. And then there was a titter at the in her way, holding out his hand. table, in which John did not feel much dis-obliged to go away," he said, in_the_most posed to join. calm tone he could muster. Good-bye, Miss Crediton; and thanks, many thanks." "Going away!" cried Kate, standing still in her amazement. "Going away Has anything happened at Fanshawe Regis Your mother-or Dr. Mitford

66

"Oh no," cried Kate, who had just come in; it is not him that is like Mrs. Mitford, but me. I allow he is her son, but that does not matter. I was at Fanshawe Regis ever so long in summer. Mr. John, tell

66

"I am

[ocr errors]

They are both well," he said. "I am not going to Fanshawe, only back to the town to my work. Good-bye."

"I must hear about this," said Kate, abruptly. Please don't wait for me, Madeline; I want to speak to Mr. Mitford. Go on, and I will join you. Oh, John, what does it mean?" she cried, turning to her lover, almost without waiting until the door had closed on her companion. By this time everybody was gone, and the two were left alone in the great empty room where five minutes ago there had been so much sound and movement. They were standing in front of one of the deeply-recessed windows, with the light falling direct upon them as on a stage. He held out his hand again and took hers, which she was too much disturbed to give.

66

66

It is nothing," he said, with a forlorn sort of smile, except just that I must go away. Don't let that cloud your face, dear. I can't help myself. I am obliged to go." "Is any one ill?" she cried; "is that the reason? Oh, John, tell me! are you really obliged to go? Or is it - anything - we have done ?"

66

[ocr errors]

"No," he said, holding her hand in his. It is my fault. It does not matter. It is that I cannot manage this sort of life. No blame to you, my darling. Don't think I am blaming you. When I am back at my work, things will look different. I was not brought up like you. You must pardon me as you would pardon me for being ignorant and not knowing another language; but it is best I should go away."

"John!" she cried, the tears coming with a sudden rush into the clear wondering eyes that had been gazing at him so intently, what have I done?"

"Nothing nothing," he said, stooping over her hand and kissing it again and again. "There is only myself to blame. I can't take things, I suppose, as other people do. I am exacting and inconsiderate and. Never mind, dear. I must go away; and you will not remember my faults when I am gone."

66

no, no! I must not be conquered this time. My love, it will be best for both of us. I cannot go on seeing you always within my reach and always out of my reach. I would have you always like this- always here- always mine; but I can't have you; and I have no strength to stand by at a distance and look on. Do you understand me now? I shall go away so much happier because of this five minutes. Good-bye." But, John!" she cried, clinging to him, "don't go away; why should you go away? I will do anything you please. I willmake a change; don't go and leave me. I want you to be here."

64

66

You break my heart!" he cried; "but I cannot be here. What use is it to you? And to me it is distraction. Kate! don't ask me to stay."

66

[ocr errors]

But it is of use to me," she said, with a flush on her face, and an expression unlike anything he had seen before. an uneasy look, half of shame and half of alarm. Then she turned from him a little, with a slight change of tone. "It is a strange way of using me," she said, looking steadfastly at the carpet, "after my going to you, and all; not many girls would have gone to you as I did; you might stay now when I ask you for my sake."

"I will do anything in the world for your sake," he said; "but Kate, it does you no good, you know. It is an embarrassment to you," John went on, with a half groan escaping him, "and it is distraction to me."

Then followed a pause. She drew her hand away from his with a little petulant movement. She kept her eyes away from him, not meeting his, which were fixed upon her. Her face glowed with a painful heat; her little foot tapped the carpet. "Do you mean that other things are to be over too ?" she said; and twisted her fingers together, and gazed out of the window, waiting for what he had to say.

Such a question comes naturally to the mind of a lover whenever there is any fretting of his silken chain; and accordingly it was not novel to John's imagination — but it struck upon his heart as if it had been a blow."Surely not surely not," he answered, hastily; "not so far as I am con

cerned."

[ocr errors]

But I never thought you had any faults," cried Kate. "You speak as if it were me. I never have found fault with you, John-nor asked anything morenor-I know I am silly. Tell me, and scold And then they stood again for how me, and forgive me. Say as papa does long? side by side, not looking at each it is only Kate. I know I did not mean it. other, waiting a chance word to separate or Oh, John, dear, if I beg your pardon, to reunite them. Should she be able to though I don't know what I have done- "bear her first rebuff? she, a spoiled child, You have done nothing," he cried in despair. "Oh, my Kate! are you my Kate? or are you a witch coming into my arms to distract me from everything? No,

[ocr errors]

to whom everybody yielded? Or could she all in a moment learn that sweet philosophy of yielding in her own person, which makes all the difference between sorrow and un

happiness? Everything - the world itself seemed to hang in the balance for that moment. Kate terminated it suddenly, in her own unexpected way. She turned on him all at once, with all the sweetness restored to her face and her voice, and held out her hand: Neither shall it be so far as I am concerned," she said. Since you must go, good-bye, John!"

66

6

66

his rooms looked to him like a place of rest, where he could go and hide himself and be at peace. But as soon as he had entered them, it was Fernwood that grew lovely in the distance, where Kate was, where there were blessed people who would be round her all day long, and the stir of life, and a thousand pleasant matters going on. He was weary and sick of himself, and sick of the world. Could he sit down and read a novel in the light of that October day what was he to do?

--

or

The end was that he took his portman

And thus it came to an end. When he was on his way back to Camelford, and the visit to Fernwood, with all its pains and pleasures, and the last touch of her hand, were all things of the past, John asked him-teau, which had not been unpacked, and self, with all a lover's ingenuity of self-tor- threw it into a passing cab, and went off to ment, if this frank sweetness of reply was the railway. He had not gone home since enough? if she should have let him go so he came to his clerkship in the bank, and easily? if there was not something of relief that was three months since. It seemed in it? He drove himself frantic with these the only thing that was left for him to do questions, as he made his way back to his now. He went back along the familiar road poor little lodgings. Mr. Crediton had with something of the feelings of a prodigal looked politely indifferent, rather glad than approaching his home. It seemed strange otherwise, when he took his leave. "Go-to him when the porter at the little roadside ing to leave us?" Mr. Crediton had said. station of Fanshawe touched his cap, and "I am very sorry; I hope it is not any bad announced his intention of carrying Mr. news. But perhaps you are right, and per- John's portmanteau to the Rectory. He fect quiet will be better for your arm. felt it strange that the poor fellow should Never mind about business you must take remember him. Surely it was years since your own time. If you see Whichelo, tell he had been there before. him I mean to come in on Saturday. I am very sorry you have given us so short a visit. Good-bye." Such was Mr. Crediton's farewell; but the young man made very little account of that. Mr. Crediton's words or ways were not of so much importance to him as one glance of Kate's eye. What she meant by her dismay and distress, and then by the sudden change, the sweet look, the good-bye so kindly, gently said, was the question he debated with himself; and naturally he had put a hundred interpretations upon it before he reached the end of his journey. It was still but mid-day when he reached the little melancholy shabby rooms which were his home in Camelford. The place might be supportable at night, when he came in only for rest after the day's labours, though even then it was dreary enough; but what could be thought of it in the middle of a bright autumn day, when the young man came in and closed his door, and felt the silence hem him in and enclose him, and put seals, as it were, to the grave in which he had buried himself. Full day, and nothing to do, and a little room to walk about in, four paces from one side to the other and a suburban street to look out upon, with blinds drawn over the windows, and plants shutting out the air, and an organ grinding melancholy music forth along each side of the way: could he stay still and bear it? When he was at Fernwood

And this feeling grew as John walked slowly along the quiet country road that led to his home. Everything he passed was associated with thoughts which were as much over and past as if they had happened in a different existence. He had walked along by these hedgerows pondering a thousand things, but scarcely one that had any reference to, any relation with, his present life. He had been a dreamer, planning high things for the welfare of the world; he had been a reformer, rousing, sometimes tenderly, sometimes violently, the indifferent country from its slumbers; sometimes, even, retiring to the prose of things, he had tried to realize the details of a clergyman's work, and to fit himself into them, and ask himself how he should perform them. But never, in all these questionings, had he thought of himself as a banker's clerk - -a man working for money alone, and the hope of money. It was so strange that he did not know what to make of it. As he went on, the other John, his former self, seemed to go with him- - and which was the real man, and which the phantom, he could not tell. All the quiet country lifted prevailing hands, and laid hold on him as he went home. It looked so natural-and he, what was he? But the country, too, had changed as if in a dream. He had left it in the full blaze of June, and now it was October, with the leaves in autumn glory, the fields reaped,

« PreviousContinue »