THE RIVALS.
'Which king, Bezonian?'--Henry IV.
Sir Roland of Provence remained in suspense whether to be a novice or
an irrevocably pledged Hospitalier. The latter was most probable; and
when Adeline's feelings had been minutely analysed, Miss Conway
discovered that she had better not show her morning's work to her
sisters.
Clara and Louis pronounced Jem to be as savage as a bear all through
the journey. Clara declared it was revenge for having been civil and
amiable all through the vacation; and Louis uttered a theatrical aside,
that even _that_ could not have been maintained if he had not
occasionally come to Ormersfield to relieve himself a little upon their
two lordships.
Laugh as he might, Fitzjocelyn was much concerned and perplexed by his
cousin's ill-humour, when it appeared more permanent than could be
puffed off in a few ebullitions. Attempts to penetrate the gloom made
it heavier, and Louis resolved to give it time to subside. He waited
some days before going near James, and when he next walked to his
college found him engaged with pupils. He was himself very busy, and
had missed his cousin several times before he at length found him alone.
'Why, Jem, old fellow, what are you about? You've not been near my
rooms this term. Are you renouncing me in anticipation of my plucking?'
'You won't be plucked unless you go out of your senses for the
occasion.'
'No thanks to your advice and assistance if I am not. But it would
conduce to my equanimity, Jem, to know whether we are quarrelling, as
in that case I should know how to demean myself.'
'I've no quarrel with you. You have far more reason--But,' added Jem,
catching himself up, 'don't you know I have no leisure for trifling?
The Ordination is the second week in March.'
'The Ordination!'
'Ay--you know it! My fellowship depends on it.'
'I never liked to contemplate it.' He sat down and mused, while James
continued his occupation. Presently he said, 'Look here. Sir Miles
Oakstead asked me if I had any clever Oxford friend to recommend. If
he comes into office, he--'
'I'll be no great man's hanger-on.'
'This matter is not imminent. You are barely four-and-twenty. Wait a
year or two; even a few months would--'
'You have tried my forbearance often enough,' broke in James; 'my
object is--as you very well know--to maintain myself and mine without
being liable to obnoxious patronage. If you think I should disgrace
the office, speak out!'
Louis, without raising his eyes, only answered with a smile.
'Then, what do you mean? As to your notions of a vocation, ninety-nine
out of a hundred are in my case. I have been bred up to this--nothing
else is open--I mean to do my duty; and surely that is vocation--no one
has a right to object--'
'No one; I beg your pardon,' meekly said Louis, taking up his stick to
go; but both knew it was only a feint, and James, whose vehemence was
exhausting itself, resumed, in an injured tone, 'What disturbs you?
what is this scruple of yours!--you, who sometimes fancy you would have
been a curate yourself!'
'I have just inclination enough to be able to perceive that you have
none.'
'And is every one to follow his bent?'
'This is not a step to be taken against the grain, even for the best
earthly motives. Jem! I only beg you to ask advice. For the very
reason that you are irreproachable, you will never have it offered.'
'The present time, for instance?' said James, laughing as best he might.
'That is nothing. I have no faith in my own judgment, but, thinking as
I do of the profession and of you, I cannot help believing that my
distaste for seeing you in it must be an instinct.'
'Give me your true opinion and its grounds candidly, knowing that I
would not ask another man living.'
'Nor me, if I did not thrust it on you.'
'Now for it! Let us hear your objection.'
'Simply this. I do not see that anything impels you to take Holy
Orders immediately, except your wish to be independent, and irrevocably
fixed before your uncle can come home. This seems to me to have a
savour of something inconsistent with what you profess. It might be
fine anywhere else, but will it not bear being brought into the light
of the sanctuary? No, I cannot like it. I have no doubt many go up
for ordination far less fit than you, but--Jem, I wish you would not.
If you would but wait a year!'
'No, Fitzjocelyn, my mind is made up. I own that I might have
preferred another course, and Heaven knows it is not that I think
myself worthy of this; but I have been brought up to this, and I will
not waver. It is marked out for me as plainly as your earldom for you,
and I will do my duty in it as my appointed calling. There lies my
course of honest independence: you call it pride--see what those are
who are devoid of it: there lie my means of educating my sister,
providing for my grandmother. I can see no scruple that should deter
me.'
Fitzjocelyn having said his say, it was his turn and his nature to be
talked down.
'In short,' concluded James, walking about the room, 'there is no
alternative. Waiting for a College living is bad enough, but nothing
else can make happiness even possible.'
'One would think you meant one sort of happiness,' said Louis, with a
calm considering tone, and look of inquiry which James could not brook.
'What else?' he cried. 'Fool and madman that I am to dwell on the
hopeless--'
'Why should it be hopeless?--' began Louis.
'Hush! you are the last person with whom I could discuss this subject,'
he said, trying to be fierce, but with more sorrow than anger. 'I must
bear my burthen alone. Believe me, I struggled hard. If you and I be
destined to clash, one comfort is, that even I could never quarrel with
you.'
'I have not the remotest idea of your meaning.'
'So much the better. No, so much the worse. You are not capable of
feeling what I do for her, or you would have hated me long ago. Do not
stay here! I do not know that I can quite bear the sight of you--But
don't let me lose you, Louis.'
James wrung the hand of his cousin; and no sooner was he alone, than he
began to pace the room distractedly.
'Poor Jem!' soliloquized Fitzjocelyn. 'At least, I am glad the trouble
is love, not the Ordination. But as to his meaning! He gives me to
understand that we are rivals--It is the most absurd thing I ever
knew--I declare I don't know whether he means Mary or Isabel. I
suppose he would consider Mary's fortune a barrier--No, she is too
serene for his storms--worthy, most worthy--but she would hate to be
worshipped in that wild way. Besides, I am done for in that quarter.
No clashing there--! Nay, the other it can never be--after all his
efforts to lash me up at Christmas. Yet, he was much with her, he made
Clara sacrifice the clasp to her. Hm! She is an embodied romance,
deserving to be raved about; while for poor dear Mary, it would be
simply ridiculous. I wish I could guess--it is too absurd to doubt,
and worse to ask; and, what's more, he would not stand it. If I did
but know! I'm not so far gone yet, but that I could leave the field to
him, if that would do him any good. Heigh ho! it would be en regle to
begin to hate him, and be as jealous as Bluebeard; but there! I don't
know which it is to be about, and one can't be jealous for two ladies
at once, luckily, for it would be immensely troublesome, unless a good,
hearty quarrel would be wholesome to revive his spirits. It is a bad
time for it, though! Well, I hope he does not mean Mary--I could not
bear for her to be tormented by him. That other creature might reign
over him like the full moon dispersing clouds. Well! this is the
queerest predicament I ever heard of!' And on he wandered, almost as
much diverted by the humour of the doubt, as annoyed by the dilemma.
He had no opportunity for farther investigation: James removed himself
so entirely from his society, that he was obliged to conclude that the
prevailing mood was that of not being quite able to bear the sight of
him. His consolation was the hope of an opening for some generous
proceeding, though how this should be accomplished was not visible,
since it was quite as hard to be generous with other people's hearts as
to confer a benefit on a Pendragon. At any rate, he was so confident
of Jem's superiority, as to have no fear of carrying off the affection
of any one whom his cousin wished to win.
James was ordained, and shortly after went to some pupils for the
Easter vacation, which was spent by Louis at Christchurch, in studying
hard. The preparation for going up for his degree ended by absorbing
him entirely, as did every other pursuit to which he once fairly
devoted himself, and for the first time he gave his abilities full
scope in the field that ought long ago to have occupied them. When,
finally, a third class was awarded to him, he was conscious that it
might have been a first, but for his past waste of time.
He was sorry to leave Oxford: he had been happy there in his own
desultory fashion; and the additional time that his illness had kept
him an undergraduate, had been welcome as deferring the dreaded moment
of considering what was to come next. He had reached man's estate
almost against his will.
He was to go to join his father in London; and he carried thither
humiliation for having, by his own fault, missed the honours that too
late he had begun to value as a means of gratifying his father.
The Earl, however, could hardly have taken anything amiss from Louis.
After having for so many years withheld all the lassez-aller of
paternal affection, when the right chord had once been touched, his
fondness for his grown-up son had the fresh exulting pride, and almost
blindness that would ordinarily have been lavished on his infancy.
Lord Ormersfield's sentiments were few and slowly adopted, but they had
all the permanence and force of his strong character, and his affection
for Fitzjocelyn partook both of parental glory in a promising only son,
and of that tenderness, at once protecting and dependent, that fathers
feel for daughters. This was owing partly to Louis's gentle and
assiduous attentions during the last vacation, and also to his long
illness, and remarkable resemblance to his mother, which rendered
fondness of him a sort of tribute to her, and restored to the Earl some
of the transient happiness of his life.
It was a second youth of the affections, but it was purchased by a step
towards age. The anxiety, fatigue, and various emotions of the past
year had told on the Earl, and though still strong, vigorous, and
healthy, the first touch of autumn had fallen on him--he did not find
his solitary life so self-sufficing as formerly, and craved the home
feeling of the past Christmas. So the welcome was twice as warm as
Louis had expected; and as he saw the melancholy chased away, the stern
grey eyes lighted up, and the thin, compressed lips relaxed into a
smile, he forgot his aversion to the well-appointed rooms in Jermyn
Street, and sincerely apologized that he had not brought home more
credit to satisfy his father.
'Oakstead was talking it over with me,' was the answer; 'and we
reckoned up many more third-class men than first who have distinguished
themselves.'
'Many thanks to Sir Miles,' said Louis, laughing. 'My weak mind would
never have devised such consolation.'
'Perhaps the exclusive devotion to study which attains higher honours
may not be the beat introduction to practical life.'
'It is doing the immediate work with the whole might.'
'You do work with all your might.'
'Ay! but too many irons in the fire, and none of them red-hot through,
have been my bane.'
'You do not set out in life without experience; I am glad your
education is finished, Louis!' said his father, turning to contemplate
him, as if the sight filled up some void.
'Are you?' said Louis, wearily. 'I don't think I am. It becomes my
duty--or yours, which is a relief--to find out the next stage.'
'Have you no wishes?'
'Not at the present speaking, thank you. If I went out and talked to
any one, I might have too many.'
'No views for your future life?'
'Thus far: to do as little harm as may be--to be of some use at
home--and to make turnips grow in the upland at Inglewood, I have some
vague fancy to see foreign parts, especially now they are all in such a
row--it would be such fun--but I suppose you would not trust me there
now. Here I am for you to do as you please with me--a gracious
permission, considering that you did not want it. Only the first
practical question is how to get this money from Jem to Clara. I
should like to call on her, but I suppose that would hardly be
according to the proprieties.'
'I would walk to the school with you, if you wish to see her. My aunt
will be glad to hear of her, if we go home to-morrow.'
'Are you thinking of going home?' exclaimed Louis, joyfully coming to
life.
'Yes; but for a cause that will grieve you. Mrs. Ponsonby is worse,
and has written to ask me to come down.'
'Materially worse?'
'I fear so. I showed my aunt's letter to Hastings, who said it was the
natural course of the disease, but that he thought it would have been
less speedy. I fear it has been hastened by reports from Peru. She had
decided on going out again; but the agitation overthrew her, and she
has been sinking ever since,' said Lord Ormersfield, mournfully.
'Poor Mary!'
'For her sake I must be on the spot, if for no other cause. If I had
but a home to offer her!'
Louis gave a deep sigh, and presently asked for more details of Mrs.
Ponsonby's state.
'I believe she is still able to sit up and employ herself at times, but
she often suffers dreadfully. They are both wonderfully cheerful. She
has little to regret.'
'What a loss she will be! Oh, father! what will you do without her?'
'I am glad that you have known her. She has been more than a sister to
me. Things might have been very different, if that miserable marriage
had not separated us for so many years.'
'How could it have happened? How was it that she--so good and
wise--did not see through the man?'
'She would, if she had been left to herself; but she was not. My
mother discovered, when too late, that there had been foolish,
impertinent jokes of that unfortunate trifler, poor Henry Frost, that
made her imagine herself suspected of designs on me.'
'Mary would never have attended to such folly!' cried Louis.
'Mary is older. Besides, she loved the man, or thought she did. I
believe she thinks herself attached to him still. But for Mary's
birth, there would have been a separation long ago. There ought to
have been; but, after my father's death, there was no one to interfere!
What would I not have given to have been her brother! Well! I never
could see why one like her was so visited--!' Then rousing himself, as
though tender reminiscences were waste of time, he added, 'There you
see the cause of the caution I gave you with regard to Clara Dynevor.
It is not fair to expose a young woman to misconstructions and idle
comments, which may goad her to vindicate her dignity by acting in a
manner fatal to her happiness. Now,' he added, having drawn his moral,
'if we are to call on Clara, this would be the fittest time. I have
engaged for us both to dine at Lady Conway's this evening: I thought
you would not object.'
'Thank you; but I am sure you cannot wish to go out after such news.'
'There is not sufficient excuse for refusing. There is to be no party,
and it would be a marked thing to avoid it.'
Louis hazarded a suggestion that the meeting with Clara would be to
little purpose if they were all to sit in state in the drawing-room;
and she was asked for on the plea of going to see the new Houses of
Parliament. The Earl of Ormersfield's card and compliments went
upstairs, and Miss Frost Dynevor appeared, with a demure and astonished
countenance, which changed instantly to ecstasy when she saw that the
Earl was not alone. Not at all afraid of love, but only of
misconstructions, he goodnaturedly kept aloof, while Clara, clinging to
Louis's arm, was guided through the streets, and in and out among the
blocks of carved stone on the banks of the Thames, interspersing her
notes of admiration and his notes on heraldry with more comfortable
confidences than had fallen to their lot through the holidays.
His first hope was that Clara might reveal some fact to throw light on
the object of her brother's affections, but her remarks only added to
his perplexity. Once, when they had been talking of poor Mary, and
lamenting her fate in having to return to her father, Louis hazarded
the conjecture that she might find an English home.
'There is her aunt in Bryanston Square,' said Clara. 'Or if she would
only live with us! You see I am growing wise, as you call it: I like
her now.'
'That may be fortunate,' said Louis. 'You know her destination
according to Northwold gossip.'
'Nonsense! Jem would scorn an heiress if she were ten times prettier.
He will never have an escutcheon of pretence like the one on the old
soup tureen that the Lady of Eschalott broke, and Jane was so sorry for
because it was the last of the old Cheveleigh china.'
Louis made another experiment. 'Have you repented yet of giving away
your clasp?'
'No, indeed! Miss Conway always wears it. She should be richly
welcome to anything I have in the world.'
'You and Jem saw much more of them than I did.'
'Whose fault was that? Jem was always raving about your stupidity in
staying at home.'
He began to question whether his interview with James had been a dream.
As they were walking back towards the school, Clara went on to tell him
that Lady Conway had called and taken her to a rehearsal of a concert
of ancient music, and that Isabel had taken her for one or two drives
into the country.
'This must conduce to make school endurable,' said Louis.
'I think I hate it more because I hate it less.'
'Translate, if you please.'
'The first half-year, I scorned them all, and they scorned me; and that
was comfortable--'
'And consistent. Well?'
'The next, you had disturbed me; I could not go on being savage with
the same satisfaction, and their tuft-hunting temper began to discharge
itself in such civility to me, that I could not give myself airs with
any peace.'
'Have you made no friends?'
One and a half. The whole one is a good, rough, stupid girl, who comes
to school because she can't learn, and is worth all the rest put
together. The half is Caroline Salter, who is openly and honestly
purse-proud, has no toad-eating in her nature, and straight-forwardly
contemns high-blood and no money. We fought ourselves into respect for
one another; and now, I verily believe, we are fighting ourselves into
friendship. She is the only one that is proud, not vain; so we
understand each other. As to the rest, they adore Caroline Halter's
enamelled watch one day; and the next, I should be their 'dearest' if I
would but tell them what we have for dinner at Ormersfield, and what
colour your eyes are!'
'The encounters have made you so epigrammatic and satirical, that there
is no coming near you.'
'Oh, Louis! if you knew all, you would despise me as I do myself! I do
sometimes get drawn into talking grandly about Ormersfield; and though
I always say what I am to be, I know that I am as vain and proud as any
of them: I am proud of being poor, and of the Pendragons, and of not
being silly! I don't know which is self-respect, and which is pride!'
'I have always had my doubts about that quality of self-respect. I
never could make out what one was to respect.'
'Oh, dear! les voila!' cried Clara, as, entering Hanover Square, they
beheld about twenty damsels coming out of the garden in couples. 'I
would not have had it happen for the whole world!' she added, abruptly
withdrawing the arm that had clung to him so trustfully across many a
perilous crossing.
She seemed to intend to slip into the ranks without any farewells, but
the Earl, with politeness that almost confounded the little elderly
governess, returned thanks for having been permitted the pleasure of
her company, and Louis, between mischief and good-nature, would not
submit to anything but a hearty, cousinly squeeze of the hand, nor
relinquish it till he had forced her to utter articulately the message
to grandmamma that she had been muttering with her head averted. At
last it was spoken sharply, and her hand drawn petulantly away, and,
without looking back at him, her high, stiff head vanished into the
house, towering above the bright rainbow of ribbons, veils, and
parasols.
The evening would have been very happy, had not Lord Ormersfield looked
imperturbably grave and inaccessible to his sister-in-law's
blandishments. She did not use the most likely means of disarming him
when she spoke of making a tour in the summer. It had been a long
promise that Isabel and Virginia should go to see their old governess
at Paris; but if France still were in too disturbed a state, they might
enjoy themselves in Belgium, and perhaps her dear Fitzjocelyn would
accompany them as their escort.
His eyes had glittered at the proposal before he recollected the sorrow
that threatened his father, and began to decline, protesting that he
should be the worst escort in the world, since he always attracted
accidents and adventures. But his aunt, discovering that he had never
been abroad, became doubly urgent, and even appealed to his father.
'As far as I am concerned, Fitzjocelyn may freely consult his own
inclinations,' said the Earl, so gravely, that Lady Conway could only
turn aside the subject by a laugh, and assurance that she did not mean
to give him up. She began to talk of James Frost, and her wishes to
secure him a second time as Walter's tutor in the holidays.
'You had better take him with you,' said Louis; 'he would really be of
use to you, and how he would enjoy the sight of foreign parts!'
Isabel raised her head with a look of approbation, such as encouraged
him to come a little nearer, and apeak of the pleasure that her
kindness had given to Clara.
'There is a high spirit and originality about Clara, which make her a
most amusing companion.'
Isabel replied, 'I am very glad of an hour with her, especially now
that I am without my sisters.'
'She must be such a riddle to her respectable school-fellows, that
intercourse beyond them must be doubly valuable.'
'Poor child! Is there no hope for her but going out as a governess?'
'Unluckily, we have no Church patronage for her brother; the only
likely escape--unless, indeed, the uncle in Peru, whom I begin to
regard as rather mythical, should send an unavoidable shower of gold on
them.'
'I hope not,' said Isabel, 'I could almost call their noble poverty a
sacred thing. I never saw anything so beautiful as the reverent
affection shown to Mrs. Dynevor on Walter's birthday, when she was the
Queen of the Night, and looked it, and her old pupils vied with each
other in doing her honour. I have remembered the scene so often in
looking at our faded dowagers here.'
'I would defy Midas to make my Aunt Catharine a faded dowager,' said
Louis.
'No; but he could have robbed their homage of half--nay, all its grace.'
They talked of Northwold, and Isabel mentioned various details of Mrs.
Ponsonby, which she had learnt from Miss King, and talked of Mary with
great feeling and affection. Never had Louis had anything so like a
conversation with Isabel, and he was more bewitched than ever by the
enthusiasm and depth of sensibilities which she no longer concealed by
coldness and reserve. In fact, she had come to regard him as an
accessory of Northwold, and was delighted to enjoy some exchange of
sympathy upon Terrace subjects--above all, when separated from the
school-room party. Time had brought her to perceive that the fantastic
Viscount did not always wear motley, and it was almost as refreshing as
meeting with Clara, to have some change from the two worlds in which
she lived. In her imaginary world, Adeline had just been rescued from
the Corsairs by a knight hospitalier, with his vizor down, and was
being conducted home by him, with equal probabilities of his dying at
her feet of a concealed mortal wound, or conducting her to her convent
gate, and going off to be killed by the Moors. The world of gaiety was
more hollow and wearisome than ever; and the summons was as unwelcome
to her as to Fitzjocelyn, when Lord Ormersfield reminded him that the
ladies were going to an evening party, and that it was time to take
leave.
'Come with us, Fitzjocelyn,' said his aunt. 'They would be charmed to
have you;' and she mentioned some lions, whose names made Louis look at
his father.
'I will send the carriage for you,' said the Earl; but Louis had learnt
to detect the tone of melancholy reluctance in that apparently
unalterable voice, and at once refused. Perhaps it was for that reason
that Isabel let him put on her opera-cloak and hand her down stairs.
'I don't wonder at you,' she said; 'I wish I could do the same.'
'I wished it at first,' he answered; 'but I could not have gone without
a heavy heart.'
'Are you young enough to expect to go to any gaieties without a heavy
heart?'
'I am sorry for you,' said he, in his peculiar tone: 'I suppose I am
your elder.'
'I am almost twenty-_four_,' she said, with emphasis.
'Indeed! That must be the age for care, to judge by the change it has
worked in Jem Frost.'
The words were prompted by a keen, sudden desire to mark their effect;
but he failed to perceive any, for they were in a dark part of the
entry, and her face was turned away.
'Fitzjocelyn,' said the Earl, on the way home, 'do not think it
necessary to look at me whenever you receive an invitation. It makes
us both appear ridiculous, and you are in every respect your own
master.'
'I had rather not, thank you,' said Louis, in an almost provokingly
indifferent tone.
'It is full time you should assume your own guidance.'
'How little he knows how little that would suit him!' thought Louis,
sighing despondingly. 'Am I called on to sacrifice myself in
everything, and never even satisfy him?'