A SURPRISE.
MR. DINGWELL, already much more like himself, having made the journey
by easy stages, was approaching Malory by night, in a post-chaise.
Fatigue, sickness, or some other cause, perhaps, exasperated his
temper specially that night.
Well made up in mufflers, his head was frequently out at the window.
"The old church, by Jove!" he muttered, with a dismal grin, as going
slowly down the jolty hill: beneath the ancient trees, the quaint
little church of Llanderris and its quiet churchyard appeared at the
left of the narrow road, white in the moonlight.
"A new crop of fools, fanatics, and hypocrites come up, since I
remember them, and the old ones gone down to enrich that patch of
ground and send up their dirty juice in nettles, and thistles, and
docks. 'In sure and certain hope.' Why should not they, the swine! as
well as their masters, cunning, and drunken, and sneaks. I'd like to
pay a fellow to cut their epitaphs. Why should I spare them a line of
truth. Here I am, plain Mr. Dingwell. They don't care much about me;
and when my Lord Verney went down the other day, to show them what a
fool they have got for a master, amid congenial rejoicings, I don't
hear that they troubled their heads with many regrets for my poor
friend Arthur. Ha! There's the estuary, and Pendillion. These things
don't change, my Lord Verney. Pity Lord Verney doesn't wear as well as
Pendillion. There is Ware, over the water, if we had light to see
it--to think of that shabby little whey-faced fool! Here we are; these
are the trees of Malory, egad!"
And with a shrug he repeated Homer's words, which say--"As are the
generations of leaves, such are those of men."
Up the avenue of Malory they were driving, and Dingwell looked out
with a dismal curiosity upon the lightless front of the old house.
"Cheerful reception!" he muttered. "Suppose we pick a hole in your
title--a hole in your _pocket_--hey!"
Dingwell's servant was at the door of the steward's house as they drew
up, and helped the snarling old invalid down.
When he got to the room the servant said--
"There's coffee, and everythink as you desired."
"I'll take breath first, if you please--coffee afterwards."
"Mrs. Mervyn hopes, sir, as how you'll parding her to-night, being so
late, and not in good 'ealth herself, which she would been hup to
receive you hotherwise," said the man, delivering his message
eloquently.
"Quite time enough to-morrow, and to-morrow--and to-morrow; and I
don't care if our meeting creeps away, as that remarkable person,
William Shakespeare, says--'in this petty pace.' This is more
comfortable, egad! than Rosemary Court. I don't care, I say, if it
creeps in that pretty pace, till we are both in heaven. What's Hecuba
to me, or I to Hecuba? So help me off with these things."
Lord Verney, on whom, in his moods, Mr. Dingwell commented so fully,
was dispensing his hospitalities just then, on the other side of the
estuary, at his princely mansion of Ware. The party was, it is true,
small--very small, in fact. Lady Wimbledon had been there, and the
Hon. Caroline Oldys, but they were now visiting Cardyllian at the
Verney Arms.
Mr. Jos. Larkin, to his infinite content, was at Ware, and deplored
the unchristian feelings displayed by Mr. Wynne Williams, whom he had
by this time formally supplanted in the management of Lord Verney's
country affairs, and who had exhibited "a nasty feeling," he "might
say a petulance quite childish," last Sunday, when Mr. Larkin had
graced Cardyllian Church with his personal devotions, and refused to
vacate, in his favour, the small pew which he held as proprietor of
Plasdwllyn, but which Mr. Larkin chose to think he occupied in virtue
of his former position of solicitor to Lord Verney.
Cleve Verney being still in London, received one morning from his
uncle the following short and astounding note, as he sat at
breakfast:--
"MY DEAR CLEVE--The time having arrived for taking that step,
which the stability of our house of Verney has long appeared to
demand, all preliminaries being satisfactorily adjusted, and the
young lady and Lady Wimbledon, with a very small party of their
relations, as you may have observed by the public papers, at
present at the hotel of Cardyllian, nothing remains
unaccomplished by way of preparation, but your presence at Ware,
which I shall expect on Friday next, when you can meet Miss
Caroline Oldys in those new and more defined relations which our
contemplated alliance suggests. That event is arranged to take
place on the Wednesday following. Mr. Larkin, who reports to me
the substance of a conversation with you, and who has my
instructions to apprise you fully of any details you may desire
to be informed of, will see you on the morning of to-morrow, in
the library at Verney House, at a quarter-past eleven o'clock. He
leaves Ware by the mail train to-night. You will observe that the
marriage, though not strictly private, is to be conducted without
_eclat_, and has not been anywhere announced. This will explain
my not inviting you to bring down any friend of yours to Ware for
the occasion."
So it ends with the noble lord's signature, and a due attestation of
the state of his affections towards Cleve.
With the end of his uncle's letter, an end of that young gentleman's
breakfast--only just begun--came also.
Cleve did not start up and rap out an oath. On the contrary, he sat
very still, with something, almost a smile, on his pale, patient face.
In a little while he folded the letter up gently, and put it in his
pocket. Then he did get up and go to the window looking out upon the
piece of ground at the rear of Verney House, and the sooty leaves and
sparrows that beautified it. For a long time he enjoyed that view,
and then took a swift walk for nearly half an hour in the
streets--drowsy, formal streets--in that quarter of the town,
involving little risk of interruption.
His wife--what a hell was now in that word! and why? Another man would
have found in it a fountain of power and consolation. His wife, his
little boy, were now in France. He thought of them both sourly enough.
He was glad they were so far off. Margaret would have perceived the
misery of his mind. She would have been poking questions at him, and
he would neither have divulged nor in anything have consulted her. In
the motive of this reserve, which harmonised with his character, may
have mingled a suspicion that _his_ interest and hers might not, in
this crisis, have required quite the same treatment.
It was about eleven o'clock as he entered Verney House again. In a
quarter of an hour more that villanous attorney, to whose vulgar
machinations he attributed his present complicated wretchedness, would
be with him.
Without any plan, only hating that abominable Christian, and resolved
to betray neither thought nor emotion which could lead him to suspect,
ever so faintly, the truth, he at length heard him announced, as a man
who has seen his death-warrant hears the approach of the executioner.
Mr. Larkin entered, with his well-brushed hat in his hand, his bald
head shining as with a glory, a meek smile on his lips, a rat-like
shrinking observation in his eyes.
"Oh! Mr. Larkin," said Mr. Cleve Verney, with a smile. "My uncle said
you would look in to-day. We have often talked the matter over
together, you know, my uncle and I, and I'm not sure that you can tell
me very much that I don't know already. Sit down, pray."
"Thanks. I think it was chiefly to let you know what he can do for
_you_. I need not say to you, my dear Mr. Verney, how generous Lord
Verney is, and what an uncle, Mr. Verney, he has been to _you_."
Here was a little glance of the pink eyes at the ceiling, and a
momentary elevation of his large hand, and a gentle, admiring shake of
the bald head.
"No; of course. It is entirely as his attorney, sir, acquainted with
details which he has directed you to mention to me, that he speaks of
your call here. I had a letter this morning."
"Quite so. It was to mention that although he could not, of course, in
prudence, under the circumstances, think of _settling_ anything--which
amounts, in fact, to an alienation--a step which in justice to himself
and the integrity of the family estates, he could not concede or
contemplate; he yet--and he wishes it at the same time to be
understood, strictly, as his present intention--means to make you an
allowance of a thousand pounds a year."
"Rather a small allowance, don't you think, for a man with a seat in
the House to marry on?" observed Cleve.
"Pardon me; but he does not contemplate your immediate marriage, Mr.
Verney," answered Larkin.
"Rather a sudden change of plan, considering that he fixed Wednesday
next, by his letter," said Cleve, with a faint sneer.
"Pardon me, again; but that referred to his own marriage--Lord
Verney's contemplated marriage with the Honourable Miss Oldys."
"Oh!" said Cleve, looking steadily down on the table. "Oh! to be
sure."
"That alliance will be celebrated on Wednesday, as proposed."
Mr. Larkin paused, and Cleve felt that his odious eyes were reading
his countenance. Cleve could not help turning pale, but there was no
other visible symptom of his dismay.
"Yes; the letter was a little confused. He has been urging me to
marry, and I fancied he had made up his mind to expedite my affair;
and it is rather a relief to me to be assured it is his own, for I'm
in no particular hurry--quite the reverse. Is there anything more?"
"I meant to ask _you_ that question, Mr. Verney. I fancied you might
possibly wish to put some questions to me. I have been commissioned,
within certain limits, to give you any information you may desire."
Mr. Larkin paused again.
Cleve's blood boiled. "Within certain limits, more in my uncle's
confidence than I am, that vulgar, hypocritical attorney!" He fancied
beside that Mr. Larkin saw what a shock the news was, and that he
liked, with a mean sense of superiority, making him feel that he
penetrated his affectation of indifference.
"It's very thoughtful of you; but if anything strikes me I shall talk
to my uncle. There are subjects that would interest me more than those
on which he would be at all likely to talk with you."
"Quite possibly," said Mr. Larkin. "And what shall I report to his
lordship as the result of our conversation?"
"Simply the truth, sir."
"I don't, I fear, make myself clear. I meant to ask whether there was
anything you wished me to add. You can always reckon upon me, Mr.
Verney, to convey your views to Lord Verney, if there should ever
happen to be anything you feel a delicacy about opening to his
lordship yourself."
"Yes, I shall write to him," answered Cleve, drily.
And Cleve Verney rose, and the attorney, simpering and bowing grandly,
took his departure.