Scorn of me recoils on you.
E. B. BROWNING
After the first relief, the relaxation of his brother's sentence had by
no means mitigated Henry Ward's sense of disgrace, but had rather
deepened it by keeping poor Leonard a living, not a dead, sorrow.
He was determined to leave England as soon as possible, that his
sisters might never feel that they were the relative of a convict; and
bringing Ella home, he promulgated a decree that Leonard was never to
be mentioned; hoping that his existence might be forgotten by the
little ones.
To hurry from old scenes, and sever former connections, was his sole
thought, as if he could thus break the tie of brotherhood. There was a
half-formed link that had more easily snapped. His courtship had been
one of prudence and convenience, and in the overwhelming period of
horror and suspense had been almost forgotten. The lady's attempts at
sympathy had been rejected by Averil without obstruction from him, for
he had no such love as could have prevented her good offices from
becoming oppressive to his wounded spirit, and he had not sufficient
energy or inclination to rouse himself to a response.
And when the grant of life enabled him to raise his head and look
around him, he felt the failure of his plans an aggravation of his
calamity, though he did not perceive that his impatience to rid himself
of an encumbrance, and clear the way for his marriage, had been the
real origin of the misfortune. Still he was glad that matters had gone
no further, and that there was no involvement beyond what could be
handsomely disposed of by a letter, resigning his pretensions, and
rejoicing that innate delicacy and prudence had prevented what might
have involved the lady's feelings more deeply in the misfortune of his
family: representing himself in all good faith as having retreated from
her proffered sympathy out of devoted consideration for her, and
closing with elaborate thanks for her exertions on behalf of 'his
unhappy brother.'
The letter had the honour of being infinitely lauded by Mrs. Ledwich,
who dwelt on its nobleness and tenderness in many a tete-a-tete, and
declared her surprise and thankfulness at the immunity of her dear
Matilda's heart. In strict confidence, too, Dr. Spencer (among others)
learnt that--though it was not to be breathed till the year was out,
above all till the poor Wards were gone--the dear romantic girl had
made her hand the guerdon for obtaining Leonard's life.
'So there's your fate, Dick,' concluded his friend.
'You forget the influence of the press,' returned Dr. May. 'People
don't propose such guerdons without knowing who is to earn them.'
'Yes, she has long believed in King John,' said Ethel.
Meantime Averil Ward was acquiescing in all Henry's projects with calm
desperate passiveness. She told Mary that she had resolved that she
would never again contend with Henry, but would let him do what he
would with herself and her sisters. Nor had his tenderness during her
illness been in vain; it had inspired reliance and affection, such as
to give her the instinct of adherence to him as the one stay left to
her. With Leonard shut up, all places were the same to her, except
that she was in haste to escape from the scenes connected with her lost
brother; and she looked forward with dull despairing acquiescence to
the new life with which Henry hoped to shake off the past.
A colony was not change enough for Henry's wishes; even there he made
sure of being recognized as the convict's brother, and was resolved to
seek his new home in the wide field of America, disguising his very
name, as Warden, and keeping up no communication with the prisoner
except under cover to Dr. May.
To this unfailing friend was committed the charge of the brother. He
undertook to watch over the boy, visit him from time to time, take care
of his health, and obtain for him any alleviations permitted by the
prison rules; and as Henry reiterated to Averil, it was absolutely
certain that everything possible from external kindness was thus
secured. What more could they themselves have done, but show him their
faces at the permitted intervals? which would be mere wear and tear of
feeling, very bad for both parties.
Averil drooped, and disputed not--guessing, though not yet
understanding, the heart hunger she should feel even for such a dreary
glimpse.
Every hour seemed to be another turn of the wheel that hurried on the
departure. The successor wished to take house and furniture as they
stood, and to enter into possession as soon as possible, as he already
had taken the practice. This coincided with Henry's burning impatience
to be quit of everything, and to try to drown the sense of his own
identity in the crowds of London. He was his sisters' only guardian,
their property was entirely in his hands, and no one had the power of
offering any obstacle, so that no delay could be interposed; and the
vague design passed with startling suddenness to a fixed decision, to
be carried into execution immediately. It came in one burst upon the
May household that Averil and her sisters were coming to spend a last
evening before their absolute packing to go on the Saturday to London,
where they would provide their outfit, and start in a month for America.
The tidings were brought by Mary, who had, as usual, been spending part
of the morning with Averil. No one seemed to be so much taken by
surprise as Tom, whose first movement was to fall on his sisters for
not having made him aware of such a preposterous scheme. They thought
he knew. He knew that all the five quarters of the world had been
talked of in a wild sort of a way; but how could he suppose that any
man could be crazed enough to prefer to be an American citizen, when he
might remain a British subject?
Repugnance to America was naturally strong in Tom, and had of late been
enhanced by conversations with an Eton friend, who, while quartered in
Canada, had made excursions into the States, and acquired such
impressions as high-bred young officers were apt to bring home from a
superficial view of them. Thus fortified, he demanded whether any
reasonable person had tried to bring Henry Ward to his senses.
Ethel believed that papa had advised otherwise.
'Advised! It should have been enforced! If he is fool enough to alter
his name, and throw up all his certificates what is to become of him?
He will get no practice in any civilized place, and will have to betake
himself to some pestilential swamp, will slave his sisters to death,
spend their money, and destroy them with ague. How can you sit still
and look on, Ethel?'
'But what could I do?'
'Stir up my father to interfere.'
'I thought you always warned us against interfering with Henry Ward.'
He treated this speech as maliciously designed to enrage him. 'Ethel!'
he stammered, 'in a case like this--where the welfare--the very
life--of one--of your dearest friend--of Mary's, I mean--I did think
you would have been above--'
'But, Tom, I would do my utmost, and so would papa, if it were possible
to do anything; but it is quite in vain. Henry is resolved against
remaining under British rule, and America seems to be the only field
for him.'
'Much you know or care!' cried Tom. 'Well, if no one else will, I
must!'
With which words he departed, leaving his sister surprised at his
solicitude, and dubious of the efficacy of his remonstrance, though she
knew by experience that Tom was very different in a great matter from
what he was in a small one.
Tom betook himself to Bankside, and the first person he encountered
there was his little friend Ella, who ran up to him at once.
'Oh, Mr. Tom, we are going to America! Shall you be sorry?'
'Very sorry,' said Tom, as the little hand was confidingly thrust into
his.
'I should not mind it, if you were coming too, Mr. Tom!'
'What, to play at French billiards?'
'No, indeed! To find objects for the microscope. I shall save all the
objects I meet, and send them home in a letter.'
'An alligator or two, or a branch of the Mississippi,' said Tom, in a
young man's absent way of half-answering a pet child; but the reply so
struck Ella's fancy, that, springing through the open French window,
she cried, 'Oh, Ave, Ave, here is Mr. Tom saying I am to send him a
branch of the Mississippi in a letter, as an object for his microscope!'
'I beg your pardon,' said Tom, shocked at Averil's nervous start, and
still more shocked at her appearance. She looked like one shattered by
long and severe illness; her eyes were restless and distressed, her
hair thrust back as if it oppressed her temples, her manner startled
and over-wrought, her hand hot and unsteady--her whole air that of one
totally unequal to the task before her. He apologized for having taken
her by surprise, and asked for her brother. She answered, that he was
busy at Mr. Bramshaw's, and she did not know when he would come in.
But still Tom lingered; he could not bear to leave her to exertions
beyond her strength. 'You are tiring yourself,' he said; 'can I do
nothing to help you?'
'No, no, thank you; I am only looking over things. Minna is helping
me, and I am making an inventory.'
'Then you must let me be of use to you. You must be as quiet as
possible. You need rest.'
'I can't rest; I'm better busy!' she said hastily, with quick, aimless,
bustling movements.
But Tom had his father's tone, as he gently arrested the trembling hand
that was pulling open a drawer, and with his father's sweet, convincing
smile, said, 'What's that for?' then drew up a large arm-chair, placed
her in it, and, taking pen and list, began to write--sometimes at her
suggestion, sometimes at his own--giving business-like and efficient
aid.
The work was so grave and regular, that Ella soon found the room
tedious, and crept out, calling Minna to aid in some of their own
personal matters.
Slowly enumerating the articles they came to the piano. Averil went up
to it, leant fondly against it, and softly touched the keys. 'My own,'
she said, 'bought for a surprise to me when I came home from school!
And oh, how he loved it!'
'Every one had reason to love it,' said Tom, in a low voice; but she
did not heed or hear.
'I cannot--cannot part with it! When I sit here, I can almost feel him
leaning over me! You must go--I will pay your expenses myself! I
wonder if we should have such rough roads as would hurt you,' she
added, caressingly toying with the notes, and bringing soft replies
from them, as if she were conversing with a living thing.
'Ah!' said Tom, coming nearer, 'you will, I hope, take care to what
your brother's impetuosity might expose either this, or yourself.'
'We shall all fare alike,' she said, carelessly.
'But how?' said Tom.
'Henry will take care of that.'
'Do you know, Miss Ward, I came down here with the purpose of setting
some matters before your brother that might dissuade him from making
the United States his home. You have justly more influence than I.
Will you object to hear them from me?'
Ave could not imagine why Tom May, of all people in the world, should
thrust himself into the discussion of her plans; but she could only
submit to listen, or more truly to lean back with wandering thoughts
and mechanical signs of assent, as he urged his numerous objections.
Finally, she uttered a meek 'Thank you,' in the trust that it was over.
'And will you try to make your brother consider these things?'
Poor Ave could not have stood an examination on 'these things,' and
feeling inadequate to undertake the subject, merely said something of
'very kind, but she feared it would be of no use.'
'I assure you, if you would persuade him to talk it over with me, that
I could show him that he would involve you all in what would be most
distasteful.'
'Thank you, but his mind is made up. No other course is open.'
'Could he not, at least, go and see what he thinks of it, before taking
you and your sisters?'
'Impossible!' said Averil. 'We must all keep together; we have no one
else.'
'No, indeed, you must not say that,' cried Tom, with a fire that
startled Averil in the midst of her languid, dreary indifference.
'I did not mean,' she said, 'to be ungrateful for the kindness of your
family--the Doctor and dear Mary, above all; but you must know-'
'I know,' he interrupted, 'that I cannot see you exiling yourself with
your brother, because you think you have no one else to turn to--you,
who are so infinitely dear--'
'This is no time for satire,' she said, drawing aside with offence, but
still wearily, and as if she had not given attention enough to
understand him.
'You mistake me,' he exclaimed; 'I mean that no words can tell how
strong the feeling is that--that--No, I never knew its force till now;
but, Averil, I cannot part with you--you who are all the world to me.'
Lifting her heavy eyelids for a moment, she looked bewildered, and
then, moving towards the door, said, 'I don't know whether this is jest
or earnest--any way, it is equally unsuitable.'
'What do you see in me,' cried Tom, throwing himself before her, 'that
you should suppose me capable of jesting on such a subject, at such a
moment?'
'I never saw anything but supercilious irony,' she answered, in the
same dreamy, indifferent way, as if hardly aware what she was saying,
and still moving on.
'I cannot let you go thus. You must hear me,' he cried, and he wheeled
round an easy-chair, with a gesture of entreaty; which she obeyed,
partly because she was hardly alive to understand his drift, partly
because she could scarcely stand; and there she sat, in the same drowsy
resignation with which she had listened to his former expostulation.
Calm collected Tom was almost beside himself. 'Averil! Averil!' he
cried, as he sat down opposite and bent as close to her as possible,
'if I could only make you listen or believe me! What shall I say? It
is only the honest truth that you are the dearest thing in the whole
world to me! The very things that have given you most offence arose
from my struggles with my own feelings. I tried to crush what would
have its way in spite of me, and now you see its force.' He saw
greater life and comprehension in her eye as he spoke, but the look was
not encouraging; and he continued: 'How can I make you understand! Oh!
if I had but more time!--but--but it was only the misery of those
moments that showed me why it was that I was always irresistibly drawn
to you, and yet made instinctive efforts to break the spell; and now
you will not understand.'
'I do understand,' said Averil, at length entirely roused, but chiefly
by resentment. 'I understand how much a country surgeon's daughter is
beneath an M. D.'s attention, and how needful it was to preserve the
distance by marks of contempt. As a convict's sister, the distance is
so much widened, that it is well for both that we shall never meet
again.'
Therewith she had risen, and moved to the door. 'Nay, nay,' he cried;
'it is for that very reason that all my past absurdity is trampled on!
I should glory in a connection with such as Leonard! Yes, Averil,' as
he fancied he saw her touched, 'you have never known me yet; but trust
yourself and him to me, and you will give him a true brother, proud of
his nobleness. You shall see him constantly--you shall keep your
sisters with you. Only put yourself in my hands, and you shall know
what devotion is.'
He would have said more, but Averil recalled herself, and said: 'This
is mere folly; you would be very sorry, were I to take you at your
word. It would be unworthy in me towards your father, towards Henry,
towards you, for me to listen to you, even if I liked you, and that you
have taken good care to prevent me from doing.' And she opened the
door, and made her way into the hall.
'But, Averil!--Miss Ward!' he continued, pursuing her, 'if, as I swear
I will, I track out the real offender, bring him to justice, proclaim
Leonard's innocence? Then--'
She was half-way up the stairs. He had no alternative but to take his
hat and stride off in a tumult of dismay, first of all at the
rejection, and next at his own betrayal of himself. Had he guessed
what it would come to, would he ever have trusted himself in that
drawing-room? This was the meaning of it all, was it? He, the
sensible man of the family, not only to be such an egregious ass, but
to have made such a fool of himself! For he was as furious at having
committed himself to himself, as he was at his avowal to Averil--he,
who had always been certain of loving so wisely and so well, choosing
an example of the true feminine balance of excellence, well born, but
not too grand for the May pretensions; soundly religious, but not
philanthropically pious; of good sense and ability enough for his
comfort, but not of overgrown genius for his discomfort; of good looks
enough for satisfaction, but not for dangerous admiration; of useful,
but not overwhelming wealth; of creditable and not troublesome
kindred--that he should find himself plunged headlong into love by
those brown eyes and straight features, by the musical genius, talents
anything but domestic, ill-regulated enthusiasm, nay, dislike to
himself, in the very girl whose station and family he contemned at the
best, and at the very time when her brother was a convict, and her
sisters dependent! Was he crazed? Was he transformed? What frenzy
had come over him to endear her the more for being the reverse of his
ideal? And, through all, his very heart was bursting at the thought of
the wounds he had given her in his struggles against the net of
fascination. He had never imagined the extent of the provocation he
gave; and in truth, his habitual manner was such, that it was hard to
distinguish between irony and genuine interest. And now it was too
late! What should he be henceforth to her? What would Stoneborough
and his future be to him? He would, he believed, have taught himself
to acquiesce, had he seen any chance of happiness before her; but the
picture he drew of her prospects justified his misery, at being only
able to goad her on, instead of drawing her back. He was absolutely
amazed at himself. He had spoken only the literal truth, when he said
that he had been unconscious of the true nature of the feelings that
always drew him towards her, though only to assert his independence,
and make experiments by teasing in his ironically courteous way. Not
until the desolate indifference of her tone had incited him to show her
that Henry was not all that remained to her, had he arrived at the
perception that, in the late weeks of anxiety, she had grown into his
heart, and that it was of no use to argue the point with himself, or
think what he would do, the fact was accomplished--his first love was a
direct contradiction to his fixed opinions, he had offended her
irrevocably and made a fool of himself, and she was going away to
dreariness!
At first he had rushed off into the melancholy meadows, among the
sodden hay-cocks still standing among the green growth of grass; but a
shower, increasing the damp forlornness of the ungenial day, made him
turn homewards. When, late in the afternoon, Ethel came into the
schoolroom for some Cocksmoor stores, she found him leaning over his
books on the table. This was his usual place for study; and she did
not at once perceive that the attitude was only assumed on her
entrance, so kneeling in front of her cupboard, she asked, 'What
success?'
'I have not seen him.'
'Oh! I thought I saw you going--'
'Never mind! I mean,' he added with some confusion, 'I wish for a
little peace. I have a horrid headache.'
'You!' exclaimed Ethel; and turning round, she saw him leaning back in
his chair, a defenceless animal without his spectacles, his eyes small
and purpled ringed, his hair tossed about, his spruceness gone. 'I am
sure you are not well,' she said.
'Quite well. Nonsense, I only want quiet.'
'Let me give you some of Aubrey's camphor liniment.'
'Thank you,' submitting to a burning application to his brow; but as
she lingered in anxiety, 'I really want nothing but quiet.'
How like Norman he looks! thought Ethel, as she cast her last glance
and departed. Can he be going to be ill? If he would only tell when
anything is the matter! I know papa says that some of us feel with our
bodies, and some with our minds; but then I never knew Tom much
affected any way, and what is all this to him? And a sigh betrayed the
suppressed heartache that underlaid all her sensations. I am afraid it
must be illness; but any way, he will neither tell nor bear to have it
noticed, so I can only watch.
Enter the two little Wards, with a message that Ave was sorry, but that
she was too much tired to come that evening; and when Mary regretted
not having been able to come and help her, Ella answered that 'Mr. Tom
had come and helped her for a long time.'
'Yes,' said Minna; 'but I think he must have done it all wrong, for, do
you know, I found the list he had made torn up into little bits.
Ethel almost visibly started, almost audibly exclaimed. At tea-time
Tom appeared, his trimness restored, but not his usual colouring; and
Ella hailed him with reproaches for having gone away without telling
her. The soft attention of which the child had a monopoly did not
fail, though he bent down, trying to keep her to himself, and prevent
their colloquy from attracting notice; but they were so close behind
Ethel's chair, that she could not help hearing: 'We were only gone to
dig up the violets that you are to have, and if you had only stayed you
would have seen Henry, for he came in by the little gate, and when I
went to tell you, you were gone.'
Ethel wondered whether the blushes she felt burning all over her face
and neck would be remarked by those before her, or would reveal to Tom,
behind her, that the child was giving her the key to his mystery.
Marvelling at the exemplary gentleness and patience of his replies to
his little coquettish tormentor, she next set herself to relieve him by
a summons to Ella to tea and cherries. Fortunately the fruit suggested
Dr. May's reminiscences of old raids on cherry orchards now a mere
name, and he thus engrossed all the younger audience not entirely
preoccupied. He set himself to make the little guests forget all their
sorrows, as if he could not help warming them for the last time in the
magic of his own sunshine; but Ethel heard and saw little but one
figure in the quietest corner of the room, a figure at which she
scarcely dared to look.
'And there you are!' so went her thoughts. 'It is true then! Fairly
caught! Your lofty crest vailed at last--and at such a time! O, Tom,
generous and true-hearted, in spite of all your nonsense! How could
she help being touched? In the net and against his will! Oh, triumph
of womanhood! I am so glad! No, I'm not, it is best this way, for
what an awkward mess it would have been! She is dear Leonard's sister,
to be sure, and there is stuff in her, but papa does not take to her,
and I don't know whether she would fit in with Tom himself! But oh!
the fun it would have been to see Flora's horror at finding her one
prudent brother no better than the rest of us! Dear old Tom! The May
heart has been too strong for the old Professor nature! What a
retribution for his high mightiness! Harry and Richard to be guarded
from making fools of themselves! What a nice cloak for jealousy! But
it is no laughing matter! How miserable, how thoroughly upset, he is!
Poor dear Tom! If I could only go and kiss you, and tell you that I
never loved you half so well; but you would rather die than let out one
word, I know! Why, any one of the others would have had it all out
long ago! And I don't know whether it is quite safe to screen the lamp
from those aching eyes that are bearing it like a martyr! There!
Well, maybe he will just stand the knowing that I know, provided I
don't say a word; but I wish people would not be so "self-contained!"'
Self-contained Tom still continued in the morning, though looking
sallow and wan; but, in a political argument with his father, he was
snappish and overbearing, and in the course of the day gave another
indication of being thrown off his balance, which was even harder for
Ethel to endure.
Throughout the suspense on Leonard's account, Aubrey had been a source
of anxiety to all, especially to Tom. The boy's sensitive frame had
been so much affected, that tender dealings with him were needful, and
all compulsion had been avoided. His father had caused him to be put on
the sick-list of the volunteers; and as for his studies, though the
books were daily brought out, it was only to prevent the vacuum of
idleness; and Tom had made it his business to nurse his brother's
powers, avoid all strain on the attention, and occupy without exciting,
bearing with his fitful moods of despondence or of hope, whether they
took the form of talking or of dreaming.
But now that all was over, every one knew that it was time to turn over
a new leaf; and Tom, with his sore heart, did it with a vengeance, and
on the first instance of carelessness, fell on the poor family pet, as
a younger brother and legitimate souffre douleur, with vehemence
proportioned to his own annoyance. It was a fierce lecture upon
general listlessness, want of manliness, spirit, and perseverance,
indifference to duties he had assumed. Nonsense about feelings--a
fellow was not worth the snap of a finger who could not subdue his
feelings--trash.
The sisters heard the storm from the drawing-room, and Gertrude grew
hotly indignant, and wanted Ethel to rush in to the rescue; but Ethel,
though greatly moved, knew that female interposition only aggravated
such matters, and restrained herself and her sister till she heard Tom
stride off. Then creeping in on tiptoe, she found the boy sitting
stunned and confounded by the novelty of the thing.
'What can it be all about, Ethel? I never had such a slanging in my
life?'
'I don't think Tom is quite well. He had a bad headache last night.'
Then I hope--I mean, I think--he must have made it worse! I know mine
aches, as if I had been next door to the great bell;' and he leant
against his sister.
'I am afraid you really were inattentive.'
'No worse than since the heart has gone out of everything. But that
was not all! Ethel, can it really be a disgrace, and desertion, and
all that, if I don't go on with those volunteers, when it makes me sick
to think of touching my rifle?' and his eyes filled with tears.
'It would be a great effort, I know,' said Ethel, smoothing his hair;
'but after all, you volunteered not for pleasure, but because your
country wanted defence.'
'The country? I don't care for it, since it condemned him, when he was
serving it.'
'He would not say that, Aubrey! He would only be vexed to hear that
you gave in, and were fickle to your undertaking. Indeed, if I were
the volunteer, I should think it due to him, not to shrink as if I were
ashamed of what he was connected with.'
Aubrey tried to answer her sweet high-spirited smile, but he had been
greatly hurt and distressed, and the late reproach to his manhood
embittered his tears without making it easier to repress them; and
pushing away his chair, he darted up-stairs.
'Poor dear fellow! I've been very hard on him, and only blamed instead
of comforting,' thought Ethel sadly, as she slowly entered the passage,
'what shall I think of, to make a break for both of those two?'
'So you have been cockering your infant,' said Tom, meeting her. 'You
mean to keep him a baby all his life.'
'Tom, I want to talk to you,' said she.
In expectation of her displeasure, he met it half way, setting his back
against the passage wall, and dogmatically declaring, 'You'll be the
ruin of him if you go on in this way! How is he ever to go through the
world if you are to be always wiping his tears with an embroidered
pocket-handkerchief, and cossetting him up like a blessed little
sucking lamb?'
'Of course he must rough it,' said Ethel, setting her back against the
opposite wall; 'I only want him to be hardened; but after a shock like
this, one cannot go on as if one was a stock or stake. Even a machine
would have its wheels out of order--'
'Well, well, but it is time that should be over.'
'So it is;' and as the sudden thought flashed on her, 'Tom, I want you
to reconsider your journey, that you gave up in the spring, and take
him--'
'I don't want to go anywhere,' he wearily said.
'Only it would be so good for him,' said Ethel earnestly; 'he really
ought to see something taller than the Minster tower, and you are the
only right person to take him, you are so kind to him.'
'For instance?' he said, smiling.
'Accidents will happen in the best regulated families; besides, he did
want shaking up. I dare say he will be the better for it. There's the
dinner-bell.'
To her surprise, she found his arm round her waist, and a kiss on her
brow. 'I thought I should have caught it,' he said; 'you are not half
a fool of a sister after all.'
Aubrey was not in the dining-room; and after having carved, Tom, in
some compunction, was going to look for him, when he made his
appearance in his uniform.
'Oho!' said the Doctor, surprised.
'There's to be a grand parade with the Whitford division,' he answered;
and no more was said.
Not till the eight o'clock twilight of the dripping August evening did
the family reassemble. Ethel had been preparing for a journey that
Mary and Gertrude were to make to Maplewood; and she did not come down
till her father had returned, when following him into the drawing-room,
she heard his exclamation, 'Winter again!'
For the fire was burning, Tom was sitting crumpled over it, with his
feet on the fender, and his elbows on his knees, and Aubrey in his
father's arm-chair, his feet over the side, so fast asleep that neither
entrance nor exclamation roused him; the room was pervaded with an
odour of nutmeg and port wine, and a kettle, a decanter, and empty
tumblers told tales. Now the Doctor was a hardy and abstemious man, of
a water-drinking generation; and his wife's influence had further
tended to make him--indulgent as he was--scornful of whatever savoured
of effeminacy or dissipation, so his look and tone were sharp, and
disregardful of Aubrey's slumbers.
'We got wet through,' said Tom; 'he was done up, had a shivering fit,
and I tried to prevent mischief.'
'Hm! said the Doctor, not mollified. 'Cold is always the excuse. But
another time don't teach your brother to make this place like a fast
man's rooms.'
Ethel was amazed at Tom's bearing this so well. With the slightest
possible wrinkle of the skin of his forehead, he took up the decanter
and carried it off to the cellaret.
'How that boy sleeps!' said his father, looking at him.
'He has had such bad nights!' said Ethel. 'Don't be hard on Tom, he is
very good about such things, and would not have done it without need.
He is so careful of Aubrey!'
'Too careful by half,' said the Doctor, smiling placably as his son
returned. 'You are all in a league to spoil that youngster. He would
be better if you would not try your hand on his ailments, but would
knock him about.'
'I never do that without repenting it,' said Tom; then, after a pause,
'It is not spirit that is wanting, but you would have been frightened
yourself at his state of exhaustion.'
'Of collapse, don't you mean?' said the Doctor, with a little lurking
smile. 'However, it is vexatious enough; he had been gaining ground
all the year, and now he is regularly beaten down again.'
'Suppose I was to take him for a run on the Continent?'
'What, tired of the hospital?'
'A run now and then is duty, not pleasure,' replied Tom, quietly; while
Ethel burnt to avert from him these consequences of his peculiar
preference for appearing selfish.
'So much for railway days! That will be a new doctrine at
Stoneborough. Well, where do you want to go?'
'I don't want to go anywhere.'
Ethel would not have wondered to see him more sullen than he looked at
that moment. It was lamentable that those two never could understand
each other, and that either from Tom's childish faults, his resemblance
to his grandfather, or his habitual reserve, Dr. May was never free
from a certain suspicion of ulterior motives on his part. She was
relieved at the influx of the rest of the party, including Richard; and
Aubrey wakening, was hailed with congratulations on the soundness of
his sleep, whilst she looked at Tom with a meaning smile as she saw her
father quietly feel the boy's hand and brow. The whole family were
always nursing the lad, and scolding one another for it.
Tom had put himself beside Ethel, under the shade of her urn, and she
perceived that he was ill at ease, probably uncertain whether any
confidences had been bestowed on her or Mary from the other side. There
was no hope that the topic would be avoided, for Richard began with
inquiries for Averil.
'She is working herself to death,' said Mary, sadly; 'but she says it
suits her.'
'And it does,' said the Doctor; 'she is stronger every day. There is
nothing really the matter with her.'
'Contrary blasts keep a ship upright,' said Gertrude, 'and she has them
in abundance. We found her in the midst of six people, all giving
diametrically opposite advice.'
'Dr. Spencer was really helping, and Mr. Wright was there about his own
affairs,' said Ethel, in a tone of repression.
'And Mrs. Ledwich wanted her to settle on the Ohio to assist the
runaway slaves,' continued Gertrude.
'It does not tease her as if she heard it,' said Mary.
'No,' said the Doctor, 'she moves about like one in a dream, and has no
instinct but to obey her brother.'
'Well, I am glad to be going,' said Daisy; 'it will be flat when all
the excitement is over, and we have not the fun of seeing Tom getting
rises out of Ave Ward.'
This time Tom could not repress a sudden jerk, and Ethel silenced her
sister by a hint that such references were not nice when people were in
trouble.
'By the bye,' said Aubrey, 'speaking of going away, what were you
saying while I was asleep? or was it a dream that I was looking through
Tom's microscope at a rifle bullet in the Tyrol?'
'An inspiration from Tom's brew,' said the Doctor.
'Weren't you saying anything?' said Aubrey, eagerly. 'I'm sure there
was something about duty and pleasure. Were you really talking of it?'
'Tom was, and if it is to put some substance into those long useless
legs, I don't care if you do start off.'
Aubrey flashed into a fresh being. He had just been reading a book
about the Tyrol, and Tom not caring at all where they were to go, this
gave the direction. Aubrey rushed to borrow a continental Bradshaw
from Dr. Spencer, and the plan rapidly took form; with eager
suggestions thrown in by every one, ending with the determination to
start on the next Monday morning.
'That's settled,' said Tom, wearily, when he and Ethel, as often
happened, had lingered behind the rest; 'only, Ethel, there's one
thing. You must keep your eye on the Vintry Mill, and fire off a
letter to me if the fellow shows any disposition to bolt.'
'If I can possibly find out--'
'Keep your eyes open; and then Hazlitt has promised to let me know if
that cheque of Bilson's is cashed. If I am away, telegraph, and
meantime set my father on the scent. It may not hang that dog himself,
but it may save Leonard.'
'Oh, if it would come!'
'And meantime--silence, you know--'
'Very well;' then lingering, 'Tom, I am sure you did the right thing by
Aubrey, and so was papa afterwards.'
His brow darkened for a moment, but shaking it off he said, 'I'll do my
best for your cosset lamb, and bring him back in condition.'
'Thank you; I had rather trust him with you than any one.'
'And how is it that no one proposes a lark for you, old Ethel?' said
Tom, holding her so as to study her face. 'You look awfully elderly
and ragged.'
'Oh, I'm going to be left alone with the Doctor, and that will be the
greatest holiday I ever had.'
'I suppose it is to you,' said Tom, with a deep heavy sigh, perhaps
glad to have some ostensible cause for sighing.
'Dear Tom, when you are living here, and working with him--'
'Ah--h!' he said almost with disgust, 'don't talk of slavery to me
before my time. How I hate it, and everything else! Good night!'
'Poor Tom!' thought Ethel. 'I wish papa knew him better and would not
goad him. Will Averil ever wake to see what she has done, and feel for
him? Though I don't know why I should wish two people to be unhappy
instead of one, and there is weight enough already. O, Leonard, I
wonder if your one bitter affliction will shield you from the others
that may be as trying, and more tempting!'