IN THE HALL GARDEN.
Bessie was in the garden, the following afternoon, with scissors and an
apron pinned up, trimming her flowers, yet with her mind away from the
plants; she was unhappy on her own account, yet strove after
resignation, and she felt the consciousness of having done right in
sacrificing herself for her father. He must now behave more kindly
towards her; be more ready to listen to her intercession for poor
Anthony. Poor Anthony! she had heard that morning that he was gone, gone
to extreme risk, and that Urith was in danger. She had resolved that now
she must go to Willsworthy and see her sister-in-law, and be of what use
to her she could. Her father could no longer forbid that. Even if he
did, in that she would not obey him.
She was stooping over her plants, with tears in her eyes, snipping,
picking off dead flowers and leaves, and tying up the carnations, when
she heard behind her the voice of Fox.
"What!--busy?"
She winced, but rose, and with a little hesitation, held out her hand to
him.
"Yes," she said, "I must do something with my hands to keep my thoughts
from resting on troubles."
"Troubles! what troubles?"
Bessie gave him a look of reproach. "I must feel anxious about my
brother, and also for Urith. How is it that you did not go as well as
your father and my Anthony, to draw a sword for the good cause?"
"You ask that? Why, you are my attraction. I cannot leave you to venture
my precious life in crack-brain undertakings. Before either of them
returns, I suppose we shall be married."
"I am ready to fulfil my promise at any time," said Bessie.
"The sooner the better. Your father has already sent a messenger for a
licence. I shall not rest till you are mine."
Bessie knew that what Fox desired was to have his foot in Hall, and be
established there in the position of heir, and that his pretence of
caring for her was hollow. A colour came into her cheeks like the
carnations she was tying up. "Enough of that," she said; "you know the
conditions on which I take you?"
"Conditions! On my soul I know of none."
"I told you that I did not love you, that I never had felt any love for
you."
"You had the frankness to inform me of that, and to say that you had
thrown your heart away on some one else, who declined the gift
altogether."
Bessie bowed her head over her flowers.
"Yes, you told me that as we walked in the mud on the road; and then
you refused me, but changed your mind before many hours had passed. I
have no doubt that, when I am your husband, you will learn to love and
admire me. However, this is no condition."
"No condition?" asked Bessie, rising, and looking him in the face.
"Surely it is. I will take you, as you insist on it, and as my father
desires it; but it must be on the understanding that you do not ask of
me at once what is not in my power to give, I will try to love you, I
promise you. I will strive with my whole heart to give you all I
undertake; but I cannot do that at once."
"Oh! you call that a condition. It is well. I accept it." There was a
veiled sneer in his tone.
"Then, again," continued Bessie, "I made my father promise, if I gave my
consent, that he would try to forgive Anthony."
"What!--forgive and reinstate him?" asked Fox, sharply.
"There was nothing said about reinstating him. I suppose that my father
and you have talked about Hall, and everything that concerns the
property, and that you understand the circumstances fully."
"To be sure I do," said Fox.
"Then, of course, I said nothing to him about reinstating Anthony,
except in his old place in my father's heart. I believe that he will,
himself, be glad to forgive the past. He cannot have cast out all the
old love for, and pride in Anthony."
"And he has promised that?"
"He has promised to try and forgive him. And now, Fox--I mean Tony
Crymes--you are ready to take me, knowing that I do not love you, and
can only try to render you that love which will be due from a wife to a
husband?"
"Oh, yes! I take you as you are."
Of course he would. It was indifferent to him whether Elizabeth loved
him or not, so long as his ambition and greed were satisfied.
"You see, Bess, I have a sharp tongue, and have made many enemies with
it, who say in return sharp things of me, but with this difference--I
say these things to their faces, they malign me behind my back. When we
are married you will know me better, and not believe all you hear said
of me."
Bessie slightly shook her head, and stooped again over her carnations.
"There is one thing further," she said; "you must help me to persuade my
father to be completely reconciled to Anthony."
"To be sure I will," answered Fox. "You want to see how good a fellow I
am, in spite of all that is said of me. Here, take my hand, in token
that I will do all you ask of me."
He gave her a cold, moist hand.
"And you promise me," she said, taking it, "on your honour that you will
stand by me and back me up when I try to bring Anthony and my father
together once more on the old terms?"
His mistrust was roused, and he did not answer at once. Her frank grey
eyes rested full on his face, and his eyes fell before her steady
glance.
"I will do what you will," he said; "but I do not suppose that your
father will prove as wax in our hands, to mould as we like. Anthony has
too deeply offended him, and Urith he will never see."
They dropped hands, for at that moment Julian entered the garden.
"I will go, see your father at once, and make trial in this matter,"
said he.
"You will find him in his room; he is looking at some papers."
Fox walked away, giving Julian a nod and a sneer as he passed, and
entered the house.
Julian came hastily up to Bess.
"My dear Bessie! Is it true? Are you really going to take my brother? It
cannot--it must not be. It is intolerable to be in the house with him
when one is master, and he there only on sufferance; but to have him
lord superior, and to be his slave!" Julian shivered.
"It is settled. I have passed my word, and I will not withdraw it."
"Bess! And after the lesson you have had from Anthony!"
"How a lesson, Julian?"
"Why, dear child, a lesson that it does not answer to marry without
love."
"Surely, Julian, there was love there, on both sides."
"Oh! love! A passing caprice. Do you not know that Anthony always loved
me? Why has he gone off to join the Duke of Monmouth? Do you suppose it
is because he cares so greatly for the Protestant cause? Nay, wench, it
is that he may escape from me--and from the sight of Urith. I am
dangerous, Urith is odious to him. Better be where balls are flying than
where my eyes flash with temptation and Urith's dart with jealousy."
"Julian! how canst thou speak thus?" Bessie stepped back from her
visitor, without offering to take her extended hands.
"Nay! do not be so offended. What I speak is the truth, and it all comes
of marrying where there is no true affection. I am holding up thy
brother as a warning to thee. Dost think that Fox cares a rush for thee?
Not half a rush--all he looks to is Hall; he takes thee because he
cannot have Hall without thee; and to have Hall is double pleasure to
him, for he will have the place as his own, spiced with the satisfaction
of having robbed his friend of it."
"I cannot help myself. I have passed my word, and stand to it."
"Look how things are now at Willsworthy. There is Urith dying, maybe;
and Anthony far away. I hope she may die. It is best so, for she will
have no happiness any more with Anthony. He is weary of her, he has
found out that he cannot find his rest in her, his heart is with me. It
has come back to me. It flew away a little while, and now it has
returned. Anthony is mine. He does not belong any more to Urith."
"Shame on you!" said Bessie. "But I am glad you have spoken on this
matter. You have acted sinfully, you have striven to turn Anthony from
his duty."
"I have done so. Urith and I have wrestled a hitch together, and I have
given her the turn, a fair back--three points. That is what she knows,
and she is eating her heart out at the thought."
"Do you know what has happened? Urith has become a mother of a dead
child."
"Is it so?" Julian was startled and changed colour. She had not heard
this, she only knew that Urith was ill.
"She is in high fever and derangement of mind. If you have driven
Anthony away, driven him to his death in the battle-field, and Urith
also dies, then there will be the lives of all three you will be
answerable for. It may be that Anthony was too hasty in marrying Urith,
but once married, you should have left him alone. I do not believe,
Julian, that he ever loved you. No, you may look at me in anger and
doubt, but I am sure of it; I am his sister, I have seen and heard him,
and if you fancy that he ever loved you, you are utterly in error. He
never did. He never loved any girl till he saw Urith. She was his first
love, not you. No, you never stirred his heart. He liked you. It
flattered his vanity to see that you admired, almost worshipped him, but
love you he did not. No, Julian, never--never! Urith was his first love,
and, please God! will remain his only love."
Julian Crymes turned deadly white, and clenched her hands against her
bosom.
"I saw what you were doing at that dance at the Cakes. Then you strove
to draw him from his wife--then you threw the seeds of mistrust into her
heart! You played a cruel and wicked game. But do not think, even
although you may for a while have lured Anthony away from his wife, that
you will separate them for ever. No! She was his first love, and to her
he will return with redoubled love when this misunderstanding, this
estrangement, is at an end--that is to say, if they live."
Bessie did not speak reproachfully, but sadly.
"Julian, you have been thoughtless, not malicious. I can tell you what
the end will be, if Anthony do come back and find Urith dead. He will
not go to you, and throw himself at your feet. No; he will hate you with
a hatred that will be lasting as his life. He will look on you as--if
not his wife's murderer--at all events, as one who engalled the last
hours of her life--who drew briars and thorns between them, tearing
their hearts when they last met. What passed between them I cannot say;
but something must have--something terrible--to account for her present
condition, and for his absence. You are answerable for that. Your
thoughtlessness, and Anthony's love of flattery, have contrived to ruin
a home. Anthony and Urith might have been happy parents of a sweet,
innocent little one, who would have bowed the heart of his grandfather,
and wiped off it all the rust that has gathered there. That little life,
with all it might have been to itself, or to others, is destroyed--by
you! You and Anthony broke the heart of Urith, and brought about what
has taken place. You cannot give back the little life--you cannot mend
the wreckage of happiness you have brought about. Pray to God to have
pity on you, and forgive you your sins!"
"I have no cause to repent," answered Julian; but she did not speak with
her old confidence, and she spoke with veiled eyes, resting on the
gravel of the walk. "I am sorry Urith is ill. I am sorry that she and
Anthony are disappointed in their hopes. I have always loved Anthony.
There is no sin in that. If Urith succeeded in drawing him away from me
to whom he was all but assured, must I not feel it? May I not resent it?
She stole him from me, and the blessing at the altar does not hallow her
theft."
"What are you saying!" exclaimed Bessie, fixing her eyes on Julian. "Is
it not a sin to love a man who has sworn before heaven that he will be
true to one, and one only, and that not yourself? Is it not a sin to
endeavour to make him false to his oaths?"
"I cannot force him to be true to Urith, and to love her. You are going
to marry Fox. You will swear to love and honour him, and you know you
can do neither. You will swear and be false to your oath, for it is an
impossibility to keep it. Anthony swore, but he could not keep his oath,
he found out that he had make a mistake----"
"You tried to persuade him that he had. Be sure he will return to Urith
with tenfold deeper, sincerer love, and will bitterly rue that he let
himself be deluded by you."
Julian stood brooding, with her eyes on the ground. She recalled how
Anthony had brushed out her initials linked with his, and interwoven in
their place his own with those of Urith.
"There," said she, hastily, "I came here for something else than to be
judged and condemned by you."
"I neither judge nor condemn you," answered Bessie, "but I tell you the
truth. Anthony can never be yours, not even if Urith dies. He never did
love you."
Julian stamped. "You do not know--he did, and I loved him."
"What token did he give that he cared for you?--answer me now."
"I loved him, I love him still. In love all is fair. If I thought he did
not love me----"
"Well," said Bessie, "what?" She looked steadily into Julian's eyes.
"I would dash my head against the stones, and kill thought for ever."