"Thank you--my love to the parson. Ask Jack what I meant to do--and
then tell him. Tell him--I say--he must reform Elderthwaite for my
sake. He must do it himself. I know he can. Don't let him _be_ one of
the abuses. Don't get into despair." He paused for breath, and then
with an accent and smile that through all the suffering had something of
his old playful daring, "I _mustn't_ say anything else to you, but that
will come right too."
"I will tell him," faltered Virginia, awed, bewildered, and yet with a
strange sense of encouragement; she let herself be drawn away, heard
Mrs Lester say that it was too dark for her to go home alone, she
should send Jack with her to get a breath of air, while Cherry was
suffering less. He was so fully himself it was hard to believe in the
danger, but the attacks of coughing were most exhausting, and he could
hardly take anything, she was very hopeless, and "my grandson"--this
always meant Alvar--thought badly of him. "Come in here, my dear, and I
will fetch Jack."
As Mrs Lester put her into the library, and left her there alone in the
dusk, the tears that she had hitherto restrained broke forth.
She thought that she was crying for Cheriton, but all her own sad
future, all her yearnings for the lost past, mingled together, and she
wept the more because, she knew not how, Cheriton had given her a sort
of indefinite comfort.
She did not hear the study door open, nor see Alvar come through the
room, nor did he see her in the dim light, till he heard her sobbing.
"Who is it?" he exclaimed, becoming aware of a woman's figure near the
fire. She started up, and with her first movement he knew her. "_Mi
dona_!" he cried in his astonishment.
"Cherry asked to see me," she faltered. "He is so ill--I could not help
crying."
"Ah, no!" said Alvar; "and _I_ may not comfort you!"
But he came close and stood by her side, and she saw that he too was
greatly agitated. She wanted to speak about Cheriton, but she could not
command her voice, nor think of a word to say.
Suddenly Alvar turned and clasped her hand.
"Ah!" he cried, with such vehemence as she had never seen in him before.
"My heart is breaking! Can you never forgive? I love you; I have
always loved you. When you sent me from you, it was my pride that let
me submit! In my own country I knew that for your sake I was English--
English altogether. I am not worthy, but I repent. I have confessed.
Help me, and I will be a good Englishman! For I have now no other
country, and I cannot live without you. Give me your hand once more!"
Alvar poured forth this torrent with such burning eagerness, such
abandonment of entreaty, that he did not see how weak were the defences
he was attacking.
"Indeed," she whispered, "it was not _that_--not that I thought you
were--not good--I thought you did not love me--much."
"I did--I do love you--I love you as my life! But you?"
"I have always loved you. I could not change," she said, with something
of her old gentle dignity. "But--I have been very unhappy all this
time."
"Ah, now you shall be happy! Yet, what do I say? How can _I_ make any
one happy! I who have grieved and vexed my brother with my unkindness--
nay, caused his illness even--I cannot make you happy!" said Alvar, in a
tone of real self-blame.
"I think you can!" said Virginia softly; but the words had hardly passed
her lips when she started away from him, as Jack came into the room.
"Granny says I am to walk home with you, Virginia. What, Alvar, are you
here? they have been looking for you. Do go to Cherry--he is so
restless now!"
"I will go," said Alvar. "Take care of her, Jack, for I must not come.
Farewell, _mi regna_!" He took both her hands and kissed them, then put
her towards Jack, and hurried away; while poor Virginia glanced in much
confusion at her escort; but he was too much absorbed in grief and
anxiety to take in what had passed, or to heed it if he did. He walked
on by her side without speaking; till she, trying to collect her
thoughts, and actuated by a very unnecessary fear of what he would think
of her silence, bethought herself to ask him what Cheriton wished her to
tell her uncle.
"He said I was to ask you?"
"He wanted to take orders, and be curate of Elderthwaite," said Jack.
"You know London did not suit him, and the work was too hard, and life
at home was so worrying for him. Besides, he hated being idle. He
thought that he could manage to get things right at Elderthwaite, and he
said that he should like it, and be happy there."
Jack spoke in a dull, heavy voice, his use of the past tense marking how
completely he regarded the possibilities of which he spoke as at an end;
and something in the tone showing that the proposal had been distasteful
to him.
"Would Cherry have given himself for _that_?" exclaimed Virginia.
"Yes," said Jack. "I didn't like it. It seemed a great sacrifice, and
besides--he was not half strong enough."
"But did he care so much? I don't mean that I can't understand his
wishing to take orders--but just for _Elderthwaite_!"
"He is very fond of Elderthwaite. And he said that it was only because
he fancied that he could be more useful there than any one else; and
because he has money, that he was justified in proposing it--because he
was ill, I mean."
"Indeed, he could do good there! He always did!"
"You know," said Jack, rather more freely, "that Cherry has a notion
that when a person seems specially marked out for any situation, he is
likely, in the long run, to be the best person for it. He says you
can't destroy evil without good. That people _fit_ their own places,
and so he believes that Elderthwaite would do better, in the long run,
if Parson Seyton could be encouraged to make things a little more
ship-shape, than it would with a new man, if he were driven away. You
see he gets fond of people. _I_ don't see it; I think it's fanciful.
All reformers begin with a clean sweep. Then Cherry said valuables were
sometimes found in the dust; nobody would reform if you ran at them with
a besom. Of course _he_ could persuade people; at any rate, he always
thought he could."
"He thinks the sun is more powerful than the north wind," said Virginia.
"I am sure Uncle James would have given in to him."
"So he said. But he was mistaken in one case, and then he blamed
himself, and I suppose--I suppose--he has conquered at last! Any way,
Virginia, you were to tell your uncle what he wished to do."
"I will tell him. He is breaking his heart about Cherry now."
"I suppose so. I can't come in. Good-bye; we'll send over in the
morning." Jack turned away. Cheriton's kindly theories might seem
fanciful to him; but he would never have the chance of knocking them on
the head any more. He was so miserable that even the thought of Gipsy
only made him feel her absence, and wonder if so bright a creature could
continue to care for him, when he had grown into a stern, hard-hearted
person, without any power of softening. Poor Jack's hard heart was very
heavy, and beat so fast as he came up to the house, that he could hardly
ask if there was any change.