My diary continued,--
_Saturday._--Well, it is over at last; and upon my word I begin to
think I am capable of anything after all I have got through to-day
since breakfast. Scarcely had I finished the slice of toast and single
cup of tea that constitute my morning meal, before I heard the tramp
of a horse on the gravel in front of the house, followed by the
ominous sound of the door-bell. I have remarked that in all country
families a ring at the door-bell brings everybody's heart into
everybody's mouth. Aunt Horsingham, brooding over the teapot as usual,
had been in her worst of humours ever since she came down, and tried
to look as if no bell that ever was cast had power to move her grim
resolve.
"A message by electric telegraph," exclaimed Cousin Amelia, who is
always anticipating some catastrophe; "no visitor would ever call at
such a time."
"Unless he came to propose for one of us," suggested John, who was
carving a ham at the side-table.
"Some one on business for _me_, probably," remarked Aunt Horsingham,
drawing herself up and looking more stately than usual.
"Mr. Haycock!" announced the butler, throwing open the door with a
flourish; and while all our untimely visitor's preparations, such as
wiping his shoes, arranging his dress, etc., were distinctly audible
outside, we looked at each other in mute astonishment, and I own I
_did_ feel the guilty one amongst the party.
The Squire made his entrance in a state of intense trepidation. Having
been forcibly deprived of his white hat in the hall, he had nothing
but natural means to resort to for concealment of his confusion. Had
it not been for an enormous silk handkerchief (white spots on a yellow
ground) with which he blew his nose and wiped his brow at short and
startling intervals his condition would have been pitiable in the
extreme. The "Squire's" dress too was of a more florid style than is
usual in these days of sad-coloured attire. A bright blue neckcloth,
well starched, and of great depth and volume; a buff waistcoat, with
massive gilt buttons; a grass-green riding-coat of peculiar shape and
somewhat scanty material; white cord trousers, York tan gaiters, and
enormous double-soled shooting-shoes, pierced and strapped, and
clamped and hobnailed, completing a _tout ensemble_ that almost upset
my aunt's gravity, and made me, nervous as I felt, stuff my
pocket-handkerchief into my mouth that I might not laugh outright.
"Fine morning, Lady Horsingham," observed the Squire, as if he had
come all that distance at this early hour on purpose to impart so
valuable a piece of information--"fine morning, but cold," he
repeated, rubbing his hands together though the perspiration stood on
his brow. "I don't recollect a much finer morning at this time of
year," he resumed, addressing Cousin John after a pause, during which
he had ceremoniously shaken hands with each of us in succession.
"Will you have some breakfast?" asked Lady Horsingham, whose cold and
formal demeanour contrasted strangely with the nervous excitement of
her visitor.
"No, thank you--if you please," answered the Squire in a breath. "I
breakfasted before I left home. Early hours, Lady Horsingham--I think
your ladyship approves of early hours--but I'll ask for a cup of tea,
if you please." So he sat down to a weak cup of lukewarm tea with much
assumed gusto and satisfaction.
It was now time for Cousin Amelia to turn her battery on the Squire;
so she presently attacked him about his poultry and his garden and his
farm, the honest gentleman's absent and inconsequent replies causing
my aunt and John to regard him with silent astonishment, as one who
was rapidly taking leave of his senses; whilst I who knew, or at least
guessed, the cause of his extraordinary behaviour began heartily to
wish myself back in Lowndes Street, and to wonder how this absurd
scene was going to end.
"Your dahlias must have suffered dreadfully from these early frosts,"
said Cousin Amelia, shaking her ringlets at the poor man in what she
fancies her most bewitching style.
"Beautifully," was the bewildered reply, "particularly the
shorthorns."
"You never sent us over the Alderney calf you promised, Mr. Haycock,"
pursued the lady, now adroitly changing her ground. "I begin to think
you are not to be depended on."
"You do me injustice, Miss Horsingham; indeed you do," broke out the
Squire in a white heat and with a deprecating glance at me. "I assure
you I sent over a very fine cutting, with a pot and everything,
directions for matting it in winter and transplanting after a year. If
you never got it I'll discharge my gardener; I will, upon my word."
"I have got such a Cochin China to show you," persisted his tormentor,
determined to renew the charge. "When you've finished breakfast I'll
take you to the poultry-yard if you like."
"Delighted," replied the Squire, looking ruefully around him as if he
meditated instant flight--"delighted, I'm sure; but they haven't
flowered well this year. I'll teach you how to bud them if you like;
but you're aware, Miss Horsingham, that they've no smell."
John could stand it no longer, and was forced to bolt out of the room.
My aunt too rose from the table with something approaching a smile;
and the Squire, screwing his courage to the sticking-place, was
following her into the drawing-room, evidently for a private
interview, when Cousin Amelia, who seemed to have made up her mind to
take bodily possession of him, hurried the visitor off to the
billiard-room, there to engage in a match which would probably last
till luncheon-time. I never saw anything so hopeless as the expression
of the victim's countenance whilst suffering himself to be thus led
into captivity. He did summon courage to entreat "Miss Coventry to
come and mark"--a favour which, notwithstanding my cousin's black
looks, I really had not the heart to refuse him.
Game after game they played, the gentleman apparently abandoning
himself to his fate. Sprawling over the table, making the most
ridiculous blunders in counting, missing the most palpable of cannons,
and failing to effect the easiest of hazards; the lady brandishing her
mace in the most becoming attitudes, drooping her long hair over the
cushions, and displaying the whiteness of her hand and slender
symmetry of her fingers, as she requested her astonished adversary to
teach her "how to make a bridge," or "pocket the red," or "screw it
off the white," and lisped out "how hard it was to be disappointed by
that provoking kiss!" The Squire made one or two futile attempts to
engage me in a game, but Cousin Amelia was determined to have him all
to herself; and as it was getting near the time at which I take Aunt
Deborah her broth--for poor Aunt Deborah, I am sorry to say, is very
ill in bed--I made my escape, and as I ran upstairs heard the
billiard-room bell ring, and Squire Haycock summon up courage to "know
if Lady Horsingham was at leisure, as he wished to see her for five
minutes alone in the drawing-room."
People may say what they like about superstition and credulity and old
women's tales, but I _have_ faith in presentiments. Didn't I get up
from my work and walk to the window at least a dozen times to watch
for Cousin John coming home that wet day two years ago when he broke
his leg with the harriers, and yet he had only gone out for a
morning's canter on the best horse he ever had in his life? Didn't I
feel for eight-and-forty hours as if something too delightful was
going to happen to me the week that Brilliant was bought and sent
home, looking like an angel in a horse's skin? That reminds me I never
go to see him now; I hope I am not inconstant to my old friends. And
what was it but a presentiment that made my heart beat and my knees
knock together when I entered my own room to-day before luncheon and
saw a brown paper parcel on the table, addressed, evidently by the
shop people, to "Miss Coventry, Dangerfield Hall"? How my fingers
trembled as I untied the thread and unfolded the paper; after all, it
was nothing but a packet of worsteds! To be sure, I hadn't ordered any
worsteds, but there might possibly be a note to explain; so I shook
every skein carefully, and turned the covering inside out, that the
document, if there should be one, might not escape my vigilance. How
could my presentiments deceive me? Of course there was a note--after
all, where was the harm? Captain Lovell had most politely sent me all
these worsteds for a cushion I had once talked about working, and very
naturally had enclosed a note to say so; and nothing to my mind could
be kinder or more welcome than the contents. I am not going to say
what they are, of course; though for that matter I easily could, since
I have got the note by me at this moment, and have read it over to-day
besides more than once. After all, there is nothing like a letter. Who
does not remember the first letter received in one's childish days,
written in a fair round text for childish eyes, or perhaps even
_printed_ by the kind and painstaking correspondent for the little
dunce of a recipient. Who has not slept with such a letter carefully
hoarded away under the pillow, that morning's first light might give
positive assurance of the actual existence of our treasure. Nor is the
little urchin the only glad supporter of our admirable postal
institutions. Manly eyes moisten with tears of joy over those faint
delicate lines traced by _her_ hand whose gentle influence has found
the _one_ soft place. Woman hides away in her bosom, close to her
loving heart, the precious scrap which assures her, visibly, tangibly,
unerringly, that he is hers and hers alone. Words may deceive, scenes
of bliss pass away like a dream. Though ever present to the mind it
requires an effort to disentangle the realities of memory from the
illusions of imagination; but a letter is proof positive; there it is
in black and white. You may read it again and again; you may kiss it
as often as you please; you may prize it and study it and pore over
it, and find a new meaning in every fresh perusal, a hidden
interpretation for every magic word. Nothing can unsay it, nothing can
deprive you of it; only don't forget to lock it up carefully, and mind
you don't go leaving about your keys.
I had hardly read my note over a second time before Cousin Amelia
bounced into the room without knocking. I should have locked the door
had I known she was coming; as it was, I had only time to pop the note
into my dress (the seal made a great scratch just below my neck)
before she was upon me, and throwing herself into my arms with a most
unusual excess of affections exclaimed,--
"Give me joy, Kate--give me joy--he's gone to mamma--he's in the
drawing-room with her now--O Kate, what shall I do?"
"My dear Amelia," I exclaimed, as the delightful thought flashed
across me that, after all, the Squire's visit might have been for my
cousin, though I must say I wondered at his taste, "am I to
congratulate you on being Mrs. Haycock? I do indeed from my heart. I
am sure he is an excellent, amiable man, and will make you a capital
husband."
"That he will!" exclaimed Cousin Amelia; "and such a nice place and
gardens, and a very good fortune too. Upon my word, Kate, I begin to
think I'm a lucky girl, though to be sure with my advantages I might
expect to make a good match. He's not so old, Kate, after all; at
least not so old as he looks; and he's very good-tempered, I know,
because his servants say so. I shall alter that tumble-down house of
his, and new-furnish the drawing-room. Of course he'll take me to
London for two or three months every year in the season. I wonder if
he knows about Mr. Johnson--not that I ever _cared_ for _him_--and, of
course, a poor curate like that one couldn't think of it. Do you know,
Kate, I thought his manner was very _odd_ the other day when he dined
here; though he sat next _you_ he kept looking at _me_, and I remarked
once that he coloured up, oh! so red. Poor fellow, I see it all now.
Kate, you shall be one of my bridesmaids--perhaps it will be _your_
turn to be a bride some of these days; who knows!"
Just then Gertrude tapped at the door.
"Miss Coventry, if you please, her ladyship wishes to see you in the
drawing-room."
My cousin's face fell several inches.
"Some mistake, Gertrude," she exclaimed. "It's me isn't it, that mamma
wants?"
"Her ladyship bid me tell Miss Kate she wished to see her
_immediately_," was my maid's reply; so I tripped downstairs with a
beating heart, and crossed the hall just in time to see Squire Haycock
riding leisurely away from the house (though it was bitter cold and a
hard frost, the first of the season), and looking up at the window,
doubtless in hopes of an encouraging wave from the white handkerchief
of his _fiancée_ presumptive.
Short as was the interval between my own door and that of the
drawing-room I had time to run over in my mind the whole advantages
and disadvantages of the flattering proposal which I was now convinced
had been made on my behalf. If I became Mrs. Haycock (and I saw
clearly that I had not mistaken the Squire's meaning on our return
from hunting), I should be at the head of a handsome establishment,
should have a good-tempered, easy-going, pleasant husband, who would
let me do just what I liked and hunt to my heart's content; should
live in the country, and look after the poor, and feed hens and
chickens, and sink down comfortably into a contented old age. I need
not separate from Aunt Deborah, who would never be able to do without
me; and I might, I am sure, turn the Squire with the greatest ease
round my little finger. But then there certainly were great
objections. I could have got over the colour of his hair, though a red
head opposite me every morning would undoubtedly be a trial; but the
freckles! No, I do not think I could do my duty as a wife by a man so
dreadfully freckled. I'm certain I couldn't love him; and if I didn't
love him I oughtn't to marry him, and I thought of the sad, sad tale
of Lucy, Lady Horsingham, whose ghost was now in the nightly habit of
haunting Dangerfield Hall. The struggles that poor thing must have
gone through, the leaden hours of dull, torpid misery, the agonizing
moments of acute remorse, the perpetual spirit-wearing conflict
between duty and inclination, much to the discomfiture of the former;
and the haunting face of Cousin Edward continually rising on that
heated imagination, pleading, reproaching, suing till she loved him,
if possibly more madly in his absence than when he was by her side. I
too was beginning to have a "Cousin Edward" of my own; Frank Lovell's
image was far too often present in my mind. I did not choose to
confess to myself how much I liked him; but the more I reflected on
Mr. Haycock's proposal the more I felt how impossible it would be
never to _think_ of Frank any more.
"No!" I said inwardly, with my hand on the drawing-room door, "I will
_not_ give him up. I have his note even now in my bosom; _he_ cares
for _me_, at any rate. I am happier to-day than I have been for
months, and I will _not_ go and destroy it all with my own hand." I
opened the door, and found myself in the formidable presence of Aunt
Horsingham.
Her ladyship looked colder and more reserved, if possible, than ever.
She motioned me stiffly to take a chair, and plunged at once into the
subject in her dry, measured tones.
"Before I congratulate you, Kate," she began, "on such an unlooked-for
piece of good fortune as has just come to my knowledge, I am bound to
confess, much to my astonishment----"
"Thank you, aunt," I put in; "that's complimentary, at any rate."
"I should wish to say a few words," proceeded my aunt, without heeding
the interruption, "on the duties which will now devolve upon you, and
the line of conduct which I should advise you to pursue in your new
sphere. These hoydenish manners, these ridiculous expeditions, these
scampers all over the country, must be renounced forthwith. Unbecoming
as they are in a young unmarried female, a much stricter sense of
decorum, a vastly different repose and reserve of manner, are
absolutely essential in a wife; and it is as a _wife_, Kate, that I am
now addressing you."
"A wife, aunt!" I exclaimed; "whose, I should like to know?"
"This is an ill-chosen time for jesting, Kate," said my aunt with a
frown. "I cannot congratulate you on your good taste in turning so
important a subject into ridicule. Mr. Haycock has proposed to you;
you have accepted him. Whilst poor Deborah is so ill I am your natural
guardian, and he has with great propriety requested my consent;
although, in the agitation very natural to a man so circumstanced,"
added my aunt, smothering a smile, "it was with some difficulty that I
made out exactly what he meant."
"He _never_ proposed to me; I _never_ accepted him," I broke in,
breathless with agitation. "I never _will_ be his wife, aunt; you had
no right to tell him so. Write to him immediately--send a man off on
horseback to overtake him. I'll put my bonnet on this instant, and
walk every mile of the way myself. He's a true-hearted gentleman, and
I won't have him made a fool of." I walked up and down the room--I
looked Aunt Horsingham full in the face; she was quite cowed by my
vehemence. I felt I was mistress now, while the excitement lasted, and
she gave in; she even wrote a note to the Squire at my dictation--she
dispatched it by a special messenger--she did everything I told her,
and never so much as ventured on remonstrance or reproach; but she
will never forgive me to her dying hour. There is no victory so
complete as that which one obtains over a person who is always
accustomed to meet with fear and obedience. Aunt Horsingham rules her
household with a rod of iron; nobody ever ventures to disagree with
her, or so much as to hint an opinion contrary to those which she is
known to hold. Such a person is so astonished at resistance as to be
incapable of quelling it; the very hardihood of the rebellion ensures
its success. When I walked out of the drawing-room to-day I felt that
for once I had obtained the victory in a contest with my aunt; that in
future I should no longer be the "wild, troublesome Kate," the "black
sheep" of the family, the scapegoat on whom were laid the faults and
misdemeanours of all, but the master-spirit, the bold, resolute woman,
whose value others were able to appreciate, and who was ready and
willing to assert her own independence. In the meantime poor Aunt
Deborah had to be informed of what had taken place, and Cousin Amelia
to be undeceived in her groundless expectations. That the latter would
never forgive me I was well enough acquainted with my own sex to be
assured; but the task required to be done, notwithstanding. Flushed
with my triumph, with heightened colour and flashing eyes, I stalked
off towards my chamber and met Cousin John in the hall.
"Good heavens, Kate, what is the matter? What has happened?" exclaimed
John in obvious perturbation.
"A piece of news!" was my reply; "a conquest, John! What do you think?
Mr. Haycock has just been here, and _proposed_ for me!"
He flushed up all over his face and temples, and then turned deadly
pale; even his lips were quite white and wide apart. How they quivered
as he tried to speak unconcernedly! And after all he got out nothing
but, "Well, Kate?"
"And I have refused him, John," I said quietly, but in a tone that
showed him there was no mistake about it.
"God bless you, Kate!" was all he replied, and turned away muttering
something about "wet things" and his "dressing-room;" but he was going
to the wrong door, and had to turn back, though he took care not to
let me see his face again.
I can't make John out. At dinner he was just as if nothing had
happened; but at all events I'm glad I've refused Mr. Haycock; so I
shall read Frank's note over once more and then go to bed.