CLOUDS.
The end of it all was, of course--though Louis had an amount of trouble
in the matter which that impetuous young gentleman had not counted
upon--that Marian yielded to his protestations, and came forth full of
the sweetest agitation, tears, and blushes, to be taken to the kind
breast of the mother who was scarcely less agitated, and to be regarded
with a certain momentary awe, amusement, and sympathy by Agnes, whose
visionary youthful reverence for this unknown magician was just tempered
by the equally youthful imp of mischief which plays tricks upon the
same. But Mrs Atheling’s brow grew sadder and sadder with anxiety, as
she looked at the young man who now claimed to call her mother. What he
was to do--how Marian could bear all the chances and changes of the
necessarily long probation before them--what influence Lord Winterbourne
might have upon the fortunes of his supposed son--what Papa himself
would say to this sudden betrothal, and how he could reconcile himself
to receive a child, and a disgraced child of his old enemy, into his own
honourable house,--these considerations fluttered the heart and
disturbed the peace of the anxious mother, who already began to blame
herself heavily, yet did not see, after all, what else she could have
done. A son of shame, and of Lord Winterbourne!--a young man hitherto
dependent, with no training, no profession, no fortune, of no use in the
world. And her prettiest Marian!--the sweet face which won homage
everywhere, and which every other face involuntarily smiled to see.
Darker and darker grew the cloud upon the brow of Mrs Atheling; she went
in, out of sight of these two happy young dreamers, with a sick heart.
For the first time in her life she was dismayed at the thought of
writing to her husband, and sat idly in a chair drawn back from her
window, wearying herself out with most vain and unprofitable
speculations as to things which might have been done to avert this fate.
No very long time elapsed, however, before Mrs Atheling found something
else to occupy her thoughts. Hannah came in to the parlour, solemnly
announcing a man at the door who desired to see her. With a natural
presentiment, very naturally arising from the excited state of her own
mind, Mrs Atheling rose, and hastened to the door. The man was an
attorney’s clerk, threadbare and respectable, who gave into her hand an
open paper, and after it a letter. The paper, which she glanced over
with hasty alarm, was a formal notice to quit, on pain of ejection, from
the house called the Old Wood Lodge, the property of Reginald, Lord
Winterbourne. “The property of Lord Winterbourne!--it is our--it is my
husband’s property. What does this mean?” cried Mrs Atheling.
“I know nothing of the business, but Mr Lewis’s letter will explain it,”
said the messenger, who was civil but not respectful; and the anxious
mistress of the house hastened in with great apprehension and perplexity
to open the letter and see what this explanation was. It was not a very
satisfactory one. With a friendly spirit, yet with a most cautious and
lawyer-like regard to the interest of his immediate client, Mr Lewis,
the same person who had been intrusted with the will of old Miss
Bridget, and who was Lord Winterbourne’s solicitor, announced the
intention of his principal to “resume possession” of Miss Bridget’s
little house. “You will remember,” wrote the lawyer, “that I did not
fail to point out to you at the time the insecure nature of the tenure
by which this little property was held. Granted, as I believe it was, as
a gift simply for the lifetime of Miss Bridget Atheling, she had, in
fact, no right to bequeath it to any one, and so much of her will as
relates to this is null and void. I am informed that there are documents
in existence proving this fact beyond the possibility of dispute, and
that any resistance would be entirely vain. As a friend, I should advise
you not to attempt it; the property is actually of very small value, and
though I speak against the interest of my profession, I think it right
to warn you against entering upon an expensive lawsuit with a man like
Lord Winterbourne, to whom money is no consideration. For the sake of
your family, I appeal to you whether it would not be better, though at a
sacrifice of feeling, to give up without resistance the old house, which
is of very little value to any one, if it were not for my lord’s whim of
having no small proprietors in his neighbourhood. I should be sorry that
he was made acquainted with this communication. I write to you merely
from private feelings, as an old friend.”
Mrs Atheling rose from her seat hastily, holding the papers in her hand.
“Resist him!” she exclaimed--“yes, certainly, to the very last;” but at
that moment there came in at the half-open door a sound of childish
riot, exuberant and unrestrained, which arrested the mother’s words, and
subdued her like a spell. Bell and Beau, rather neglected and thrown
into the shade for the first time in their lives, were indemnifying
themselves in the kitchen, where they reigned over Hannah with the most
absolute and unhesitating mastery. Mamma fell back again into her seat,
silent, pale, and with pain and terror in her face. Was this the first
beginning of the blight of the Evil Eye?
And then she remained thinking over it sadly and in silence; sometimes,
disposed to blame herself for her rashness--sometimes with a natural
rising of indignation, disposed to repeat again her first outcry, and
resist this piece of oppression--sometimes starting with the sudden
fright of an anxious and timid mother, and almost persuaded at once,
without further parley, to flee to her own safe home, and give up,
without a word, the new inheritance. But she was not learned in the ways
of the world, in law, or necessary ceremonial. Resist was a mere vague
word to her, meaning she knew not what, and no step occurred to her in
the matter but the general necessity for “consulting a lawyer,” which
was of itself an uncomfortable peril. As she argued with herself,
indeed, Mrs Atheling grew quite hopeless, and gave up the whole matter.
She had known, through many changes, the success of this bad man, and in
her simple mind had no confidence in the abstract power of the law to
maintain the cause, however just, of William Atheling, who would have
hard ado to pay a lawyer’s fees, against Lord Winterbourne.
Then she called in her daughters, whom Louis then only, and with much
reluctance, consented to leave, and held a long and agitated counsel
with them. The girls were completely dismayed by the news, and mightily
impressed by that new and extraordinary “experience” of a real enemy,
which captivated Agnes’s wandering imagination almost as much as it
oppressed her heart. As for Marian, she sat looking at them blankly,
turning from Mamma to Agnes, and from Agnes to Mamma, with a vague
perception that this was somehow because of Louis, and a very heavy
heartbreaking depression in her agitated thoughts. Marian, though she
was not very imaginative, had caught a tinge of the universal romance at
this crisis of her young life, and, cast down with the instant omen of
misfortune, saw clouds and storms immediately rising through that golden
future, of which Louis’s prophecies had been so pleasant to hear.
And there could be no doubt that this suddenly formed engagement, hasty,
imprudent, and ill-advised as it was, added a painful complication to
the whole business. If it was known--and who could conceal from the
gossip of the village the constant visits of Louis, or his undisguised
devotion?--then it would set forth evidently in public opposition the
supposed father and son. “But Lord Winterbourne is not his father!”
cried Marian suddenly, with tears and vehemence. Mrs Atheling shook her
head, and said that people supposed so at least, and this would be a
visible sign of war.
But no one in the family counsel could advise anything in this troubled
moment. Charlie was coming--that was a great relief and comfort. “If
Charlie knows anything, it should be the law,” said Mrs Atheling, with a
sudden joy in the thought that Charlie had been full six months at it,
and ought to be very well informed indeed upon the subject. And then
Agnes brought her blotting-book, and the good mother sat down to write
the most uncomfortable letter she had ever written to her husband in all
these two-and-twenty years. There was Marian’s betrothal, first of all,
which was so very unlike to please him--he who did not even know Louis,
and could form no idea of his personal gifts and compensations--and then
there was the news of this summons, and of the active and powerful enemy
suddenly started up against them. Mrs Atheling took a very long time
composing the letter, but sighed heavily to think how soon Papa would
read it, to the destruction of all his pleasant fancies about his little
home in the country, and his happy children. Charlie was coming--they
had all a certain faith in Charlie, boy though he was; it was the only
comfort in the whole prospect to the anxious eyes of Mamma.