"No. I have not the honour of pleasing her as I am. I can change for
no one. Do not grieve, _Cherito mio_, I shall forget all when I show
you Seville, and I will teach you to forget too. I take the best of my
English home with me when I take my brother."
He took Cheriton's hands in his as he spoke, with a gesture, half
playful, half tender. The response was cruelly disappointing. Cherry
withdrew a little and said, in a tone of extreme coldness,--
"In that case Virginia is perfectly right. I quite understand her
meaning. But it will be a great vexation to my father that your
engagement should be broken for such a cause."
"My father cannot complain. I have obeyed him," said Alvar. "But I
shall go and tell him that the proposals he so honourably made me will
be unnecessary." He went away as he spoke, and Jack, who had been
listening silently, exclaimed,--
"By Jove! he doesn't know what he's in for now?"
"Oh," cried Cherry, "it is intolerable! If they had married, she would
never have found out his coolness! It is most unlucky."
"Well," said Jack, "I don't know. Alvar worships you, and has ways that
suit you, yet you can't understand each other. Alvar is altogether
different from us. He is outside our planetary system, and always will
be. I'd like my wife to belong to the same species as myself."
"But the occasion is so annoying," said Cherry. "Why must they order me
off in this way--or why couldn't I have held my tongue about it? Oh,
Alvar is the wise man after all."
"You'll get well," said Jack gruffly.
"Well, I'll try. But--" he paused; but the thought in his mind was that
the home ties had regained their power now that he believed himself
likely to leave them for ever.
"Cherry," said Jack, turning his back, and hunting in a bookshelf, "I
know all about it."
"Do you, Jack?"
"Yes. You ought to go away; but do you mind going alone with Alvar?
Let me come."
"Well, Jack," said Cheriton, after a pause, "if you know, I can tell you
how it is. I've had a hard time, and I think I should like to be quiet.
But it is right to give oneself a chance, and as for Alvar, I am not at
all afraid of going alone with him. You know what a good nurse he is.
_If_ I want you, you will come to me."
"Yes," muttered Jack.
"But I don't want father to guess at what the doctors call `mental
anxiety,' nor to talk hopelessly to him. You must comfort him. I'm
afraid a great deal will be thrown on you, my boy."
Jack did not answer; and Cheriton, divining his feelings, made an
effort, and said cheerfully,--
"Of course, one is no judge oneself in such cases. I am quite willing
to go now, and I shall look forward to seeing you at Christmas. You
must write and give me your impressions of Oxford."
"Oh yes," said Jack, consoled; "and perhaps Alvar will pick up a Spanish
lady, and then we should be all right again." Cherry smiled and shook
his head, feeling that he could not wish to dispose of Alvar in so
unceremonious a fashion. He was angry with him now, and felt how wide a
gulf lay between their points of view; yet he had grown to be very
dependent on him, and was keenly conscious of all his unselfish
devotion. He saw, too, that it would not do to talk freely even to
Jack, since it frightened him and made him miserable, and resolved to
keep all his confusing feelings to himself--feelings that seemed to tear
him to pieces while he was utterly weary of them all.
He was afraid that he had been hard on Alvar, and still more afraid of
how his father would take the revelation; but he had long to wait before
the study door was flung open, and Alvar walked in, with his head up,
and his face crimson. He was passing through without heeding his
brothers, but Cherry's call checked him, and he came up to the window.
"_Mi querido_, this will do you harm," he said gently; "you excite
yourself too much."
"But tell me--"
"Yes, I will tell you. But we will go upstairs; you must rest."
But as he spoke, his father came out of the study, and coming up to
them, said, in a tone of strong indignation,--
"I wish to know, Cheriton, how long you have been aware of a state of
feeling on your brother's part which places me in a situation of which I
am thoroughly ashamed; whether you were aware that, as appears from his
own confession, _my_ son has done Miss Seyton the disrespect of engaging
himself to her as a matter of expediency, and not of affection."
"Sir," said Alvar firmly, "your displeasure is for me alone. I will not
allow my brother to be questioned; he is not strong enough to bear it."
"No, Alvar, it won't hurt me. Father, I don't think you understand. If
they find that they cannot satisfy each other, it is better to part.
Neither would act dishonourably by the other."
"There is no use in talking," said Alvar hotly. "At my father's wish I
gave myself to Miss Seyton as I am. Well, she rejects me; there is an
end of it. I can change for no one. I am myself. Well, I do not
please any of you, but I do not ask you to change yourselves, nor will
I." His words sounded like a mere defiance to his father, but as
Cheriton heard them, he felt their force. Why should they all expect
Alvar to conform to their standard instead of trying to understand his?
"Be that as it may," said Mr Lester, "you have found an unworthy
pretext. I am far from ungrateful for all your kindness to Cheriton,
but it was fair on none of us to take the opportunity of his going
abroad to put off your marriage. If you had had the manliness to say at
once that your engagement was distasteful to you, we should have known
how to act."
"I will not stay--I will not hear myself so insulted!" cried Alvar, with
a sudden fury of passion, that flared high above his father's angry
displeasure, startling both the brothers into an attempt to interfere.
"Father is mistaken," cried Jack; while Cheriton began to say,--
"Come into the study, father; I think I can explain--" when his words
were stopped by a violent fit of coughing. Agitated and over-fatigued
as he was, he could not check it, and the alarm was more effectual than
any explanations could have been in silencing the quarrel.
Alvar sprang to his side in a moment, and sent Jack for remedies; while
Mr Lester forgot everything but the one great anxiety and distress.
The doctors had given a strong enough warning against the possible
consequences of such excitement to make them all feel self-reproachful
at having caused it; and the next words exchanged between the disputants
were an entreaty from Mr Lester to know if Alvar was alarmed, a gentle
reassurance on Alvar's part, and a request, at once complied with, that
his father would move out of sight, lest Cherry should attempt to renew
the discussion.
It never was renewed. When Cherry recovered, he was too much exhausted
to try to speak, or to think of Alvar in any light but of the one who
knew best what was comfortable to him, and once more everything seemed
indifferent to Mr Lester beside the approaching parting. But though a
quarrel was averted, there was much discomfort. Mrs Lester took her
son's view decidedly, and treated Alvar like a culprit, the only voice
raised in his favour being Bob's, who observed unexpectedly "that he
thought Alvar was quite right to do as he chose." Mr Lester had an
interview with Mr Seyton, and probably made more than the _amende_
expected from him, for the next day he received a note from Virginia:--
"Dear Mr Lester,--As I find from my father that you do not entirely
understand the circumstances which have led to the breach of my
engagement, I think it is due to your son to tell you that it was
entirely my own doing, and that I have no cause of complaint against
him. We parted, because I believe we are unsuited to each other, not
because he in any way displeased me; certainly not because he very
rightly wished to go abroad with Cheriton. I hope you will forgive me
for saying this, and believe me,--
"Yours very sincerely,--
"Virginia Seyton."
Well meant as poor Virginia's letter was, it may be doubted whether it
much enlightened Mr Lester as to the point in question; but he showed
it to Alvar, who read it with a deep blush, and said,--
"She is, as ever, generous--but--I am a stranger to her still."
Meanwhile, all the arrangements for the journey were being made.
Cheriton received a warm invitation from Seville, and it was agreed, at
his earnest request, that his father should remain behind at Oakby, but
that Jack should go with him to Southampton, whence they were to go to
Gibraltar by P and O steamer, the easiest way, it was thought, of making
the journey. In London, Cheriton was to see a celebrated physician.
He went bravely and considerately through all the trying leave-takings
and arrangements, taxing his strength to the uttermost, in the desire to
leave nothing undone for any one. He put aside with a strong hand, that
inner self which yet he could not conquer, with its passionate yearning,
its bitter disappointment, its abiding sense of wrong; but it was there
still, and gave at times the strangest sense of unreality, even to the
pain of the partings, which was true pain nevertheless though he seemed
to feel it through the others, rather than through himself. Perhaps the
vehement Lester temperament was not a very sanguine one, for though they
were told to be hopeful, they were all full of fear, and Cheriton
himself hardly looked forward to a return, or, indeed, to anything but
possible rest from the strain of making the best of himself, for he
suffered very much, while all the vivid and appropriate sensations with
which he had once looked out on life and death had died away.
He could hardly have borne it all but for Alvar's constant care and
watchfulness, and for the ease given by his apparent absence of feeling,
and for the soothing of his tender gentle ways, and yet though he clung
to him with ever-increasing gratitude and affection, there was a curious
sense of being apart from him.
Alvar, though he had too much tact to fret Cherry by opposition, had no
sympathy with the innumerable interests, for each one of which he wished
to provide, and thought his parting interviews with the young Flemings
and with many another waste of strength and spirits. Cherry had also to
go through a trying conversation with old Parson Seyton, who, between
anger on Virginia's account and grief on Cheriton's, was difficult to
deal with, entirely refusing to see Alvar, and more than disposed to
quarrel with Cherry for going abroad with him. Even Mr Ellesmere
regarded Alvar's conduct with considerable disapproval, though he would
not mar his relations with Cherry by a word.
Alvar said nothing and made no explanations, but he was exceedingly
impatient of the strain on Cherry's fortitude and cheerfulness, not
seeing what the memory of this sad time might one day be to them all,
and least of all appreciating the value of that last Sunday's
church-going and Communion, which, much as it tried both their feelings
and their shy reserve, not one of the others, even Bob, would for worlds
have omitted. Yet, when many an old servant and neighbour made a point
that day of following the example of the squire and his children, Mr
Ellesmere thought the scene no small testimony to the value of the
lives, which, however faulty and imperfect, had been led, though at
different levels, with a constant sense of responsibility towards man
and of looking upwards to God. Yes, and as something to give thanks
for, even while his heart swelled at the thought that the best-loved of
those tall fair-faced youths might never kneel in Oakby Church again.
That same Sunday evening, Mr Lester was sitting alone in the library in
the dusk, sad enough at heart, when Cherry came slowly in behind him,
and leaned over the back of his chair.
"Father," he said, "I've been thinking, and I want to tell you something
before I go."
"What is it, my boy?--don't stand--here, sit here."
He pulled another chair towards his own as he spoke, and Cherry sat
down, and said,--
"Father, I think I had rather you knew as much as I ought to tell you; I
don't want to have any secret between us."
"Well, my boy?"
"And, besides, I heard you say that, if you could have found any reason
for my being worse, you would be less anxious about me. Well, it is not
a reason exactly, but I suppose it made me careless. I--I've had a
great trouble lately--a--a disappointment. It's over now--but it cost
me a good deal at the time. I can't tell you any more about it; but I
thought--after all--I had rather you knew--_now_!"
Mr Lester did not ask a single question.
"I never guessed this," he said, in a tone of surprise; then, after a
pause, "Well, my dear boy, it's a great relief to my mind."
Cherry nearly laughed, though his heart was full enough.
"You need never imagine that it will turn up again," he said, decidedly.
"Ah, well, Cherry, we've all had disappointments," said Mr Lester, more
cheerfully than he had spoken for some time; "and I'm glad there's
something to account for your looks lately. You weren't strong enough
for vexations. You'll shake them off with the change of scene. But, my
lad, don't go and make a fool of yourself in the reaction."
Cherry was sufficiently acquainted with his father's history to guess at
the drift of this warning; but he only shook his head and smiled, and
then there was a long silence. Cherry leaned against the arm of his
father's chair, and, after a long-forgotten childish fashion, began to
finger the seals on his watch-chain.
"These are the first things I remember," he said.
Mr Lester passed his arm round him, as when he had been a slim boy,
standing by his side; and though no other word was spoken, and in the
darkness there were tears on both their faces, Cherry felt that after
such a drawing together, this worst of all the partings was easier to
bear.