MINDEN LODGE.
"What thing is Love, which not can countervail
Naught save itself? even such a thing is Love.
And worldly wealth in worth as far doth fail,
As lowest earth doth yield to heaven above.
Divine is Love, and scorneth worldly pelf,
And can be bought with nothing but with self."
RALEIGH.
The month was only March; but in that southern portion of England,
the white daisy and the golden buttercup already spotted the green
sward; the hedge-rows nearly in full leaf, were quite like
bird-meadows, so full were they of song; while the coo of the
ring-dove and the wild pigeon were already heard in the copse. The
gardens teemed with beautiful flowers, and the air was delicious, the
heat of the great white chalky cliffs being tempered by the breeze
from the deep blue sea.
When the three guests reached his residence at St. Helen's, the
general and all his suite were absent, at the inspection of the
parochial artillery; for even then, so lately as the days of Corunna,
the ancient custom of each parish in the Isle of Wight providing
itself with one small piece of cannon, usually a six-pounder, to be
kept in the church, or some small house built for the purpose close
by, was still in force; and the recent threats of invasion had made
the islanders somewhat expert as gunners, in handling their brigade
of some thirty field-pieces.
Built on an eminence at the pretty village of St. Helen's, near the
mouth of the Bradinghaven, Minden Lodge was a spacious and handsome
mansion; and though the three visitors knew not the names of the
localities, from the lofty windows of the spacious and elegant
drawing-room, they had a fine view of Calshot Castle, of Portsmouth
steeped in sunny haze, about seven miles distant, its harbour crowded
with shipping; Spithead, with all the men-of-war at anchor, and the
little _Bien Aimé_, with the union-jack waving above her tricolour;
while far off in distance rose the taper spire of Chichester
Cathedral.
The rolling of carriage wheels upon gravel walks, the opening and
shutting of doors, announced the return of the general's party from
the inspection; but for a time no one appeared, and already the hands
of the ormolu clock indicated a quarter past six.
Madame had made rather an elaborate toilet; her maid had dressed and
powdered her fine hair to perfection, and she was in all the
amplitude of her flowered brocade and rich black lace, her antique
steel and diamond ornaments, a gift from the Grand Monarque to her
grandmother the Marquise de Louvre; Eugene had on the full uniform of
the 24th Chasseurs à Cheval, minus only his sword; Quentin felt
himself obliged to appear in some kind of uniform, too (mufti was
vulgar then), and so had carefully brushed up his old and worn-out
volunteer coat of the 25th, to which he added a pair of silver
epaulettes and a crimson sash, bought from a Jew of Corunna, who had
no doubt found them on the field.
They were sorely discoloured and torn; but he had the handsome gold
belt and the sabre of General Colbert--the gift of Moore. Embrowned,
taller, fuller, manlier, and looking even more handsome than ever, he
was not astonished at being totally unrecognised; though he was
startled, and beyond description bewildered, when the familiar voice
of old Jack Andrews (who was clad in the Crawford livery), as he
threw open the drawing-room door, announced "Lord and Lady Rohallion,
Miss Warrender, _and_ Captain Conyers."
Looking not a day older, but rather younger and better than when he
had seen them last, Lord Rohallion entered in the full uniform of a
general officer, as orthodoxly powdered and pig-tailed as ever; Lady
Winifred in all the plenitude of her old-fashioned costume, with her
high-dressed hair puffed and white as snow, and looking, though
senior in years, somewhat the counterpart of Madame de Ribeaupierre,
her necklace and ornaments being equally antique, with opals and
diamonds that were _reversible_ in the course of an entertainment;
and there, too, was Flora, looking so charming, so dove-eyed, and
blooming, in full dress for dinner, but leaning on the arm of a
lisping and most-decidedly-too-attentive puppy of an aide-de-camp.
So confounded was Quentin by the sudden appearance of these four
persons, that he stood as if rooted to the carpet, unable to speak or
advance, while apologies were profusely made by Lord and Lady
Rohallion for their absence at the inspection on Bemerston Downs.
"You will make this house your home, my dear Madame de Ribeaupierre,"
said Lady Winifred, "until you choose to leave it for Paris----"
"We shall be in no hurry arranging the cartel for that," said Lord
Rohallion; "though I have no doubt," he added to Eugene, "you will be
impatient to rejoin your regiment--light cavalry, I think?" Eugene
bowed very low; "and this gentleman----"
"Monsieur Kennedy--a name once very dear to me," said Madame de
Ribeaupierre, presenting Quentin; "and dearer now again for the
services he and my Eugene have performed for each other."
Lord Rohallion bowed, and shook the hand of Quentin cordially, but
did not remark his features particularly, till the expression of
astonishment and joy, half mingled by doubt and fear, which he saw,
while surveying alternately the faces of Flora and Lady Winifred,
attracted all his attention.
"Quentin--Quentin Kennedy!" they exclaimed together. Flora seemed
tottering and deadly pale; but Lady Rohallion threw herself into his
arms, and sobbed hysterically.
Conyers played with the tassels of his sash, and thought himself
decidedly in the way....
Brief and rapid were the questions asked, and explanations given now;
other guests came crowding in till the dinner-party was complete, and
Jack Andrews made the gong send its thunder from the vestibule: thus
they were compelled to compose themselves, nor indulge in that which
well-bred English society so eminently abhors--a scene.
"I was thought too old to command a brigade in the field, Quentin,"
said Lord Rohallion, shaking the hand of his young friend, at least
for the sixth time; "so the Duke of York kindly sent me to this quiet
place. If the flat-bottomed boats ever leave Boulogne, they will
find me, however, at my post; and, egad! I hope to show them there
is life in the old dog yet!"
Conyers, the aide, who no doubt usually acted as esquire to la belle
Flora, was considerably put out--disgusted, in fact--when he found
her completely appropriated by another; while he was compelled to
offer his arm to the buxom wife of an adjutant of a Veteran battalion.
"Flora!"
"Quentin!"
They had no other words for each other, even in whispers, as they
went mechanically to the dining-room, where all the cold formality of
a grand state dinner was to be enacted and endured.
A strange throbbing thrill ran through Quentin's heart, as memory
went back to that last meeting in the sycamore avenue, and _the last
kiss_ given there, as he seemed with the touch of her hand to take up
the long-dropped link of a life that had passed away--his boyish life
of joy and love at Rohallion--long dropped, but never forgotten!
They were young, but, strange to say, in their instance, separation
for a time, instead of cooling, strengthened their mutual regard; and
when Flora spoke, the old familiar sound of her soft and beloved
voice made the tender link complete.
She drew off her glove and smilingly held up a little white hand.
There was but one ring on it--the diamond gift of Madame de
Ribeaupierre, sent at a time when Quentin had no other gift to send;
and the curious history of it afforded them ample conversation during
dinner. As for Eugene, who sat opposite, he seemed immensely
consoled, under his unhappy circumstances, by a blue-eyed and fair
ringleted daughter of the Commissary General from Newport, that young
lady's patriotic animosity to France seeming in no way to extend to a
handsome young fellow in the green coat lapelled with white of the
24th Chasseurs à Cheval; so thus the daughter of "la perfide Albion"
had it all her own way.
Then the old General and Madame de Ribeaupierre were, as Eugene
phrased it in the French camp style, "like a couple of
_fourbisseurs_," they sat with their powdered heads so close
together; but they were deep in recollections of the old court of the
Bourbons, of the Scoto-French alliance, of the days of the monarchy,
all of which Eugene was wont to stigmatize as "the rubbish of the
world before the flood," for he was one of those young men who
wisely, perhaps, don't see much use in looking back at any time.
Lady Rohallion had, of course, innumerable questions to ask
concerning Cosmo; but, kept so distantly aloof as he had been by that
uncompromising personage, Quentin found great difficulty in
satisfying the anxious mother. Then Lord Rohallion asked many a
question concerning the old Borderers; but as Quentin's battalion had
been the second, and was consequently a new one, he had some
difficulty in satisfying all his inquiries.
Fresh from foreign service and the seat of war, whence some rather
exaggerated stories of scrapes and perils had preceded him, Quentin
experienced all the intense boredom of finding himself "an object of
interest." This annoyance was all the greater, that he was absorbing
and absorbed by Flora, the heiress, the general's beautiful and
wealthy ward, who had already turned the heads of all the hard-up
fellows in the adjacent garrison towns.
All things have an end; even the longest and most stately of dinners,
so in due time the ladies retired to the drawing-room. As Madame de
Ribeaupierre passed Quentin, her cheek was flushed with pleasure and
gratified pride by the attention she had received from the courtly
old lord--that noble pair d'Ecosse; her eyes were bright, and she
still looked indeed beautiful.
"Ah, my child, Quentin, I can see what I can see," she whispered; "it
is she whom you love, then?"
"Yes, madame, most dearly," said Quentin, smiling.
"C'est un ange! and I shall always love her, too!" exclaimed the
impulsive Frenchwoman, as she kissed Flora's blushing cheek.
"Quentin, follow us soon," said the latter, tapping him with her fan;
"I want to hear more about that Spanish lady at the Villa de Maciera."
The gentlemen lingered over their wine; much "shop and pipeclay" were
talked, with reserve, however, as Eugene was present; but the merits
of the new shako, and the probability of the expected brevet, were as
usual fully discussed. The first to join the ladies in the
drawing-room was Quentin, who felt very much as if in a dream, from
which he might waken to find himself in the cabin of the _Bien Aimé_,
in the Villa de Orsan, or, worse still, in some comfortless bivouac
in Estremadura; and glad were these united friends when the guests
had taken their leave, and they were all left to themselves in the
drawing-room.
Much conversation and many explanations ensued; and a very simple
remark, by stirring a certain chord of memory, was the happy means of
bringing about a very unexpected revelation or dénouement--one,
indeed, so remarkable as to deserve a chapter to itself.