THE EARL'S RETURN.
Days passed, and Caroline heard nothing of the new friend she had made;
but one day Eliza brought her a letter which had come, inclosed in one
from Margaret, who had left town with her mistress so suddenly that she
found no time to say farewell.
This was the letter which broke down so many hopes for the unhappy girl:
"MY DEAR, DEAR FRIEND--
"For that you always will be, so long as I have a pulse in my
heart or a purpose in my brain! It does not require an eternity
for two young girls like us to become firm friends; but it will
take more than that to destroy the faith and love we feel for
each other. I know that you will believe every word that I say,
though I may be compelled to seem cruel and faithless. I cannot
come to see you. They tell me it might offend my father. I
cannot ask you to his house, because it _is_ his, and I have no
authority in it. But the time will come when I shall have a
house of my own, and then no guest shall be so honored. Why do
I love you so? Is it that I remember something? Or has any
person told me that you and I have slept in each other's arms,
and breathed upon the same pillow, with an old woman bending
over us--a noble-faced old woman, with gray hair, and a queenly
way of carrying the head? Have you any remembrance of a woman
like that? Do you remember a hot, red fire, streams of water
gushing over it, a ladder, a crowd, and great pipes coiling like
a tangle of huge snakes along a street full of people? I do--and
this no one has ever told me.
"I want to ask all these things in person. You are from America.
I was there once, and after that fire I remember the ocean and a
great black ship, which sent banners of smoke over us day after
day.
"Then Oakhurst. I was not four years old then, but my life began
in America, so far as I know of it.
"I cannot help you now; but if you hate the stage so much, be
firm, and madame cannot force you upon it. Besides, I am
determined to redeem my pledge; so, if it can be done in no
other way, I will just have an early time set for my marriage
with Mr. Closs, and then you shall come to us if any one
attempts to oppress you.
"Pray do not suppose that any one here dislikes you. On the
contrary, Lady Hope admits that you are charming. The trouble is
that here, in England, there is so much prejudice against the
stage. I cannot advise you, having broken down so miserably in
my promises; but I shall not be helpless forever, and when I
have power you shall share it.
"If she insists, if the worst comes to the worst, run away, and
come down here--I mean into the neighborhood. I have plenty of
pocket-money, and drive my ponies just where I please. Margaret
will help us.
"I am sure you will forgive me that I cannot do all I promised.
It does not grieve you more than it humiliates me. To think that
I should offer so much and perform nothing! But it is not my
fault, nor is it the fault of any one here.
"Believe in me, trust me, and love me, for I will deserve it
all.
"Yours affectionately,
"CLARA."
Lady Clara wrote this letter on the very night of her return to
Oakhurst. That much she insisted on doing. Less, she said, would be
cruel treachery.
Neither Lady Hope nor her brother were disposed to interfere, and so the
little missive went, carrying both hope and pain with it.
It was some days before Hepworth Closs was able to make his entire peace
with the young lady. She could not find it in her heart to oppose her
stepmother, whose sad, heavy eyes touched her sympathy; but it was
pleasant to tyrannize over a man so much older than herself, whom love
had made her slave.
With him quarreling was delicious, and she was in no haste to cut her
enjoyment short. But even the pleasure of tormenting one's lover has its
reaction; so one day, as the sun went down, pouring a flood of crimson
into the bosom of that old cedar of Lebanon, Clara relented a little,
and allowed Hepworth to kiss her hand. It was impossible to hold out
longer, with all the leaves quivering in that soft air, and the little
birds hiding away among them, chirping to each other, and setting a
sweet example to the lovers.
Of course an ardent man, very much in love, is not likely to rest
content with the touch of his lady-love's hand after he has been kept
in quarantine four or five days. Hepworth was ardent, and desperately in
love; so he took advantage of her soft relenting, and drew her close to
his side, laid her head against his heart, and, with his cheek touching
the thick waves of her hair, began to talk of the future, when they
would be all in all to each other.
Clara shut her eyes, and allowed her head to rest so close to her
lover's heart that it rose and fell with its strong beating. She loved
the music of that full, warm pulse, and a smile parted her lips as she
listened.
Thus they rested awhile in silence, she, carried into a dreamy elysium
by the swell of those full heart-beats; he, calmed by the stir of the
cedar-leaves, looking into her face, and wondering, in the humility of
true affection, how that bright young creature had ever been won to love
him. He bent his head down softly, and kissed the blue veins on her
temple.
"Are you sure, very, very sure, that you love me, Clara?"
She reached up one arm, wound it about his neck, laid her cheek against
his, and whispered:
"Don't you think so?"
"Lady Clara! Mr. Hepworth Closs!"
It was a man's voice, stern and clear as the clash of bells. Both the
lover and the girl sprang to their feet.
"Father!"
"Lord Hope!"
For a moment the two men stood face to face. They had changed since
their last parting; still that was but dimly seen in the light of a
young moon, which was rising over the trees as the rich crimson faded
away.
Hepworth saw that all the wild passion of those times had died out of
that face, leaving it calm and hard; but other change was concealed by
the silvery quiver of light that fell upon it through the leaves.
Hepworth was the first to speak.
"My lord, you have received my letter, I trust?"
"Yes--and came at once to answer it."
"By your tone, by your manner, I should fear--"
"While this young lady is by, we will not speak of your fears," said the
earl, with a slow motion of the hand. "Clara, you will find your--Lady
Hope. She will, perhaps, be glad to hear that I have returned."
"Not while you meet me and--and Hepworth in this fashion, papa. I don't
like it. One would think you intended to make trouble."
"Foolish child! Go as I tell you."
"Not while you look at me like that. Do you know, papa, that you have
forgotten to kiss me, or even shake hands; and that is a thing I never
saw you guilty of before."
Clara drew close to the haughty man, and turning her mouth into a
half-open apple-blossom, held it up to be kissed.
The earl put her aside gently, but with firmness.
"Go to Lady Hope, as I bade you," he said. "This is no hour for
trifling."
Clara stood motionless. All the color had left her face, even to the
lips.
"Papa, are you in earnest?"
"In earnest? Yes."
"And you mean to refuse this gentleman?"
"Undoubtedly I mean to refuse that gentleman."
There was an emphasis of fine irony laid on the last word, which
Hepworth felt with a sting of indignation; but he controlled himself, in
respect to Clara's presence, and stood aloof, pale and stern as the man
before him.
"I will go," said Clara; "but, before I leave you, let me say one
thing: I love this gentleman. But for that, he never would have spoken
to me or written to you. It was not his fault, or of his seeking. He had
not been here a day before I loved him without knowing it. Now, all the
world may know it for aught I care, for I never will marry any other
man!"
Lord Hope did not reply to her, but turned to Hepworth.
"You have done honorable work, and in a short time!" he said. "I was not
aware that Lady Hope would entertain her relatives in my absence, and
with this result."
Hepworth did not answer then, but turning to Lady Clara, reached out his
hand.
"Let me lead you to the house," he said. "After that I can meet Lord
Hope on more equal terms."
Clara took his arm; but her father interposed.
"I will take charge of the lady," he said, with haughty coldness,
drawing her arm within his, and leading her to the terrace, where he
left her and returned to the cedar.
"Now, sir, let us conclude this matter at once. You ask the hand of my
daughter in marriage. I refuse it. You are here under my roof an
unexpected and unbidden guest. From this hour you cease to be welcome."
"My lord, had I never known you in the past, never served you in an
unlawful desire, you would not have dared to address me in this fashion.
If you and I meet to bandy insults, it is because the past has left no
mutual respect between us; but I have this advantage over you; the sins
which have drawn on me even your contempt have been long since repented
of, while yours, compared to which mine fade into innocence, seem but to
have hardened into pride."
Lord Hope smiled.
"Of what crime does Mr. Hepworth Closs charge me?"
"I make no special charge, Lord Hope; but there is an old woman in
America suffering the penalty of a crime which she never
committed--which you know she never committed."
"The law decided otherwise, if I remember rightly," answered the earl,
in a quiet, calm voice. "But even if it did not, does that relate to the
question in hand?"
"No, no, and I am to blame in mentioning it--Heaven knows I wish to
think the best! I admit, my lord, your prejudices against me would have
been just when we knew each other so well; but I was very young then and
can fairly claim to have worked out an honorable redemption from the
faults of my youth. Believe me, I have won more than a respectable
position among men; have wealth from my own exertions enough to satisfy
even your wishes. True, I have not the rank to match yours; but there
was a time when you thought it no disgrace to mate with my family."
Lord Hope was moved out of his proud calm now. He lifted his hand with a
suddenness that was threatening, and cried out:
"Peace, sir! I have heard enough of this!"
"But I must remind you again that Lady Hope is my only sister, and in
these insults you degrade her."
"Degrade her, when she is my wife!"
These words were drawn out with proud emphasis that stung Hepworth like
a wasp.
"My lord," he said, "I will bear much from you, because I once loved
you, but more from the fact that you are my sister's husband and _her_
father; but I warn you not even by a tone to cast reproach or slur upon
your wife. She became such against my wishes and in spite of my protest.
That lady has all the elements of greatness within herself."
"What right had you to wish or protest?"
"The self-same right that you have to drive me from your daughter. You
did not heed my wishes, why expect me to prove more delicate?"
"Because I can enforce what I wish, and you could not."
"How?"
"By asking Mr. Hepworth Closs to leave Oakhurst at once, and by
providing against all chance of his coming here again."
Closs turned very white, and his hand clenched and unclenched itself
with passionate force.
"My lord, this is a cruel insult, which I have not deserved!"
All at once the earl turned, with some show of feeling, and looked
Hepworth steadily in the face.
"Hepworth Closs, listen to me. If I seem cruel and unmanly, it is
because I wish to be kind. The hand which sweeps a moth from its
circling around a candle, must seem very cruel to the poor insect. I
tell you, fairly, Hepworth Closs, it is not so much pride of birth or
personal dislike that prompts me to deny my daughter to you. But she is
heiress in entail to the Carset title and Houghton Castle, a noble
title, without support, unless the old countess makes her heiress, by
will, of her personal estates. By marrying your sister, I mortally
offended this old lady. Rachael has been, from first to last, the
special object of her dislike. Lady Clara has added to this by refusing
to visit Houghton unless her stepmother is received there also. This
quarrel may throw one of the richest inheritances in England out of my
family, and all from my unfortunate marriage."
"Your unfortunate marriage!" exclaimed Closs, hotly.
"How could it be otherwise?" answered Lord Hope, sadly.
There was something in Hope's voice that touched Hepworth Closs with
feelings akin to those he had felt for the proud young man years ago.
"This was the language I used to my sister the night before she became
your wife," he said.
"Oh, my God! if she had but listened--if she had but listened!"
"Lord Hope! do I understand? Has your marriage with Rachael Closs come
to this?"
"Hepworth, we will not discuss this subject. It is one which belongs
exclusively to Lady Hope and myself."
"But she is my sister!"
"Between a husband and wife no relative has claims."
"Lord Hope, I was once your friend."
"I have not forgotten it. Unfortunately for us both, you were. I do not
say this ungratefully. On the contrary, I am about to appeal to that old
friendship once more. You ask for my daughter. To give her to a brother
of Rachael Closs would be the bitterest insult I could offer the old
lady at Houghton. It would close our last hopes of a reconciliation. The
estates, in doubt now, would be eternally lost. I cannot afford this.
Oakhurst is strictly entailed; I am heavily in debt, so heavily, that we
are compelled to practise the most harassing economy. From me Clara will
inherit nothing; from her grandmother worse than nothing if she dies
offended with us. I am told that she is relenting--that she has been
heard to speak kindly of Clara. Can you ask me to insult her over again,
knowing all the wrong I have done her, all the ruin it would bring on my
child?"
"What can I do?" exclaimed Closs, who felt the reason of this appeal.
"How can I act generously to you--fairly to her?"
"Go away. She is young, volatile, capricious, but generous as the day.
Be open with her; tell her why you leave Oakhurst and how impossible it
is to return."
"But there is one wild hope for me--the possibility of gaining this old
lady's consent."
Lord Hope smiled in pity of the forlorn idea.
"You may as well ask the stars of heaven to fall."
"But it may chance that I can plead my cause with her."
"Then your best argument will be that I have driven you ignominiously
from Oakhurst," said Lord Hope, with fine irony in his smile. "She will
forgive much to any man I am known to dislike."
"My lord, I love your daughter so entirely, that it is impossible for me
to give up all hope. Leave me this one gleam, or, failing in that, give
me such chances as time may bring."
Again Lord Hope answered with that keen smile.
"I withhold nothing from you but my consent."
"But, if Lady Carset gives hers?"
"Then I can safely promise mine."
Again the smile came, and pierced Hepworth like an arrow.
"Now I will intrude here no longer," he said, taking his hat from the
ground where it had been lying.
"It is better so, inhospitable as you may think me for saying it. Lady
Hope will be grieved, I know."
"I am her only relative," said Closs, with deep feeling.
"I know it; but we are all making sacrifices. I am, certainly, in
wishing you farewell."
Hope reached out his hand. It was clear he wished Closs to go without
further leave-taking. Closs understood the motion.
"I will not pain my sister with a farewell. Explain this as you please,
or say that I will write--unless that is prohibited. As for the young
lady, I shall never seek her again under your roof; but the time may
come when I shall assert the right which every man has to choose for
himself, and win the lady of his love, if he can. Meantime, Lady Clara
is free as air. Tell her so."
With these words Hepworth Closs turned resolutely from the house in
which he had tasted pure happiness for the first time in his life, and
went away.