"Yes, Mr Canau is at home," said a very mealy-faced girl, who replied to
Harry Clayton's knock; and he was shown into a barely-furnished but neat
parlour, to wait while, apparently, some lesson was being concluded in
the back room, where a voice could be heard counting loudly:--"One,
_two_, three; one, _two_, three;" and a duet between pianoforte and
violin appeared to be in fierce progress. Then there was silence, a
buzz of voices, and very tightly dressed, very fierce-looking--with his
closely-cut hair, as he walked behind an enormous moustache,--the little
exile entered.
"Ah! _mon cher, cher ami_!" he exclaimed; and in a moment his arms were
round his visitor. But directly after, he seemed to recollect himself,
and drew back hastily to hold out his hand. "I beg pardon--thousand
pardons; but I shall never be an Englishman."
Then, running to the door, he cried in a loud voice, "_Mes amis--mes
amis--entrez_."
Harry Clayton's heart beat, as the next minute Jared Pellet entered with
Patty and Janet, who both started with surprise, Patty colouring deeply,
and the latter looking from one to the other with something nearly akin
to anger.
Harry hesitated but for one moment; and then, obeying the dictates of
his heart, and heedless of the presence of father and friends, caught
Patty in his arms, and kissed her tenderly.
"Aha!" said Canau; "but you do not apologise, as I did, _mon ami_. I
did draw back, and make offer of my hand."
"So I do--now and for ever," cried Harry, "if Patty here will take it.
You will forgive me, I know, Mr Pellet, for seeming brusque, but I
cannot talk,--I cannot make professions. I am indeed, though, earnest
and true, and I believe that you have read me aright."
"Yes, yes--yes, yes," said Jared, softly. "I know, but it is not for me
to read. We will go and sit with Janet, and you will join us soon."
"But, papa!" cried Patty, blushing a deeper crimson, as she hurried to
his side.
"Well, my child," he said, as he kissed her white forehead fondly,
"shall I stay then?"
"Miss Pellet will, I hope, give me a short interview alone," said Harry,
crossing to her side as Canau and Janet left the room.
"Patty, dear Patty," he said, "I am no courtly wooer, only a poor
student."
"No, no!" exclaimed Jared. "Haven't we seen the honours you have won."
"I have little to offer," continued Harry, "but the true love of an
honest man; but it is so true, so unselfish a love, that I blush not to
offer it here in your father's presence. But I have much to learn from
you, for I tremble--this is not the welcome I had hoped to receive. You
shrank from me almost with coldness, though you know that from our first
meeting I have loved you. Mine may be a simple love, but I offer you a
heart that never gave thought to another. But still I would not press
you for that which was not yours to give. Tell me that you are not free
in thought, and I will say no more."
There was a few moments' pause, during which Jared fiercely stroked his
cheek, and then thrust his hands into his pockets, shrugging his
shoulders almost up to his ears, _a la_ Canau,--but, though Patty
essayed to speak, her words were inaudible, as she covered her face with
her hands and burst into tears.
Treading upon tip-toe as if he were amongst pedal-keys, Jared softly
left the room, and for the next few minutes, Harry, grown eloquent with
affection, pleaded his cause earnestly, till Janet glided in, looking
curiously from one to the other.
"Ah, Janet!" exclaimed Harry, catching her hands in his, "you know how I
have loved her from the first. You will speak for me, will you not?"
"No; why should I?" said Janet, coldly, as she turned from him to Patty,
taking her to her breast in a motherly fashion, as if to protect her.
"She is rich now, and you are proud to know her; but look back at when
she was poor. You were ashamed to know her then before your fine
friends. And then look at your cruel suspicions. Do you think I could
not read them all? I have told her a hundred times over that yours was
but a passing fancy--that you saw her pretty face, and liked it, and--
and that was all."
"I was weak and unjust, I know," said Harry; "but have I not tried to
expiate my sin? But why do you speak of a passing fancy? What do you
mean? How can you be so unjust? Are there to be fresh riddles now?"
"Why should you trouble her when you are promised to some one else?"
cried Janet, fiercely, as she turned upon him, holding Patty to her
breast the while, and stroking her luxuriant hair.
"I! Promised to some one else?" exclaimed Harry. "Well, yes," he
added, gloomily. "I suppose it is to be so--to Alma Mater--to my
studies."
"Hush, Patty. No; I will not be silent," cried Janet, excitedly; for
Patty had turned imploringly to her. "I _will_ speak to him--I will not
be silent. Have you," she exclaimed to Harry, "have you forgotten your
stay in Essex, at a pleasant house with a lawn in front, stretching down
to the road?"
She looked at him searchingly, as if she would read his very thoughts,
while she awaited his answer.
"Forgotten! no, certainly not," said Harry. "Nearly two years ago, was
it not?"
"Yes, yes; I see that you remember," cried Janet, with a tinge of
sarcasm in her tones.
"Well!" said Harry, looking from one to the other in evident perplexity,
for Patty's eyes were fixed upon him anxiously, as if her happiness
depended upon his answer.
"Well!" said Janet, scornfully, "do you remember?"
"You are speaking in riddles," cried Harry, almost angrily, in his turn.
"What does this mean? If you allude to my visit nearly two years
since, with a brother student to his home--yes, I was there a week--a
pleasant, happy week of home-life, such as I have seldom known."
"Happy, no doubt," said Janet, harshly.
There was a simple look of wonder and bewilderment in Harry's face that
directly disarmed suspicion, and the harsh aspect slowly faded from
Janet's countenance as the young man said calmly--
"Janet, I cannot understand what you would accuse me of; but it cannot
be any falling away from my love for Patty; and as to being promised to
another, I never till now spoke words of love to woman."
The doubt and suspicion faded away still further, to leave poor Janet's
countenance almost sweet in its expression of loving sadness, as she
turned away to whisper in her friend's ear, and to kiss her fondly; and
her eyes were suffused with tears, as she gently pressed back Patty's
clinging hands, and glided from the room.
For, trembling, fluttering, half-pained, half-joyous, Patty would have
followed, but there were other hands to arrest her half-way; and as the
door softly swung to, she felt herself drawn unresisting, now, closer
and closer, to another's breast.
Shall we tell of the words that fell now from Harry's impassioned
lips?--of the gentle, dove-like eyes that now looked up, half-scared,
half-wonderingly in his, till that look was subdued and softened into
one that was all love? Of the hour, that fled like minutes, as he drew
the yielding little form closer, till her breath fanned his cheek, and
her red, half-pouted lips seemed to ask the kiss they dared not then
return? Enough, if we say that, as Harry sat proudly there, and
whispered of the future, it was with a little head nestling in his
breast; and when--how long after, neither knew--Jared was heard loudly
approaching the room, violently humming one of the melodies from
"Zampa," and, of course, so pre-occupied, that he stumbled over the mat,
and kicked it back into its place before rattling the door handle and
entering, they did not move; why should they?
Jared stood and gazed for a moment with bended head, half smiling, and
evidently about to utter some bantering remark; but it did not leave his
lips, which began to twitch, and his face to work as he turned from
them.
"Father, dear father!" cried Patty, as she fled to his side, "you are
not angry?"
"Angry? No, my darling, I am not angry," and he drew her to him to kiss
her tenderly. "I am not angry, but glad and thankful to see my child
happy. It brings back thoughts of old times when I--but this will not
do. And what will somebody at home say to it all? I am a weak old
fogey, and let you have your own way, but there is moth--I mean mamma,
to consult, remember."
At that moment the door was once more softly opened, and Janet entered
slowly, to look at the trio inquiringly, till in Harry's happy face she
read all she wished to learn, and pressed his hand as he led her to a
chair, sitting down by her side, and talking to her for some time, so
that father and daughter might converse for a while without
interruption.
Evening fell upon them unawares, and the black shadows made Janet's
countenance darker still, as, at last, gazing earnestly in Harry's face,
she laid one bony hand on his, and tried to speak, but the words died
inaudibly away.
"Did you wish to ask me something?" said Harry, softly; for he had in
those happy hours learned the poor girl's secret.
"Yes."
"You may trust me," he said, gently; "but you are a woman of strong good
sense. Let me ask you something first--Is it wise?"
"I think so," said Janet, sadly. "I am not mad now. I suffered then,
but it has passed away, to leave me wiser and better, I hope. Do you
think," she added, somewhat bitterly, "that I shall be like the little
one that cried for the moon?"
Harry was silent for a while, thinking, but he was interrupted by
Janet's whisper--
"Tell me--is he well?"
"Yes," said Harry.
"And you have seen him?"
"Not for above a year."
"But you have had news; tell me what it is."
Harry was again thoughtful and silent. Should he tell her or no? The
blow must come some day; had it not better fall upon her now, and be at
an end?
"Do you fear to tell me?" she said again.
Harry's answer was to draw Sir Francis Redgrave's letter from his
pocket, and place it in her hands.
"Read it," he said, "when you are alone."
Volume 3, Chapter XXVI.