CAPT. GREGORY LOVELL
A carriage drove rapidly up the avenue leading to Middleton Hall.
The Hall was not large, but was handsome and well-proportioned, and
looked singularly attractive, its gray walls forming a harmonious
contrast with the bright green ivy that partially covered them, and
the broad, smooth lawn that stretched out in front.
Mrs. Middleton regarded her home with unmingled satisfaction. It was
to be her home now as long as she lived. Now that the boy was dead, no
one could wrest it from her. She would live there, but not in solitary
grandeur. The news of her success would bring Capt. Gregory Lovell to
her side, and their marriage would follow as soon as decency would
permit. If afterward he should desire to have the name of the
residence changed to Lovell Hall, Mrs. Middleton decided that she
would not object. Why should she? She had no superstitious love for
her present name, while Lovell had for her the charm which love always
gives to the name of the loved one.
The housekeeper, stout and matronly, received her mistress at the
door.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Middleton,” she said. “How long it seems since you
went away!”
“How do you do, Sarah?” said her mistress, graciously. “I can assure
you I am glad to be back.”
“You will find everything in order, mum, I hope and believe,” said
Sarah. “We expected to see you sooner.”
“I hoped to be back sooner, but the business detained me longer than I
desired.”
“And how did you succeed, mum, if I may be so bold?” inquired the
housekeeper, curiously.
“As I expected, Sarah. I found that the poor boy was dead.”
“Indeed, mum!”
“I hoped to bring him back with me, according to my poor husband’s
desire, but it was ordered otherwise by an inscrutable Providence.”
Sarah coughed.
“It is very sad,” she said, but she looked curiously at her mistress.
She knew very well that this sad news rejoiced the heart of Mrs.
Middleton, and the latter knew that she could not for a moment impose
upon her clear-sighted housekeeper. But the farce must be kept up for
the sake of appearances.
“Come up to my chamber with me, Sarah. I want to ask you what has been
going on since I was away. Have you heard from Lady Lovell’s family?
Are they all well?”
Lady Lovell was the mother of Capt. Gregory Lovell, and the question
was earnestly put.
“They are all well except the captain,” answered Sarah.
“Is he sick?” demanded her mistress, turning upon her swiftly.
“No, mum; I only meant to say the captain was gone away.”
“Gone away! When? Where?”
“He’s ordered to India, I believe, mum. He went away a month ago.”
Mrs. Middleton sank into her chair quite overcome. Her joy was
clouded, for the reward of her long and toilsome journey was snatched
from her.
“Did he not leave any message?” she asked. “Did he not call before he
went away?”
“Yes, mum. He left a note.”
“Give it to me quick. Why did you not mention it before?”
“It’s the first chance I got, mum. The letter is in my own chamber. I
took the best care of it. I will get it directly.”
“Do go, Sarah.”
Mrs. Middleton awaited the return of Sarah with nervous impatience.
Perhaps the captain had thrown her over after all, and, loving him as
she did, this would have torn the heart of the intriguing woman, who,
cold and selfish as she was so far as others were concerned, really
loved the handsome captain.
Sarah speedily reappeared with the letter.
“Here it is, mum,” she said. “I have taken the best care of it.”
Mrs. Middleton tore it open with nervous haste. This is the way it
ran:
“MY DEAR JANE: I am about to set out for India—not
willingly, but my regiment is ordered there, and I must obey
or quit the service. This, as you well know, I cannot do;
for, apart from my official pay, I have but a paltry two
hundred pounds a year, and that is barely enough to pay my
tailor’s bill. I am sorry to go away in your absence. If I
were only sure you would bring home good news, I could
afford to sell my commission and wait. But it is so
uncertain that I cannot take the risk.
“I need not say, my dear Jane, how anxious I am to have all
the impediments to our union removed. I am compelled to be
mercenary. It is, alas! necessary for me, as a younger son,
to marry a woman with money. I shall be happy indeed if
interest and love go hand in hand, as they will if your
absolute claim to your late husband’s estate is proved
beyond a doubt. I append my India address, and shall
anxiously expect a communication from you on your return. If
you have been successful, I will arrange to return at once,
and our union can be solemnized without delay. Once more,
farewell.
“Your devoted
“GREGORY LOVELL.”
Mrs. Middleton, after reading this letter, breathed a sigh of relief.
He was still hers, and she had only to call him back. There would be a
vexatious delay, but that must be submitted to. She had feared to lose
him, and this apprehension, at least, might be laid aside.
To some the letter would have seemed too mercenary. Even Mrs.
Middleton could not help suspecting that, between love and interest,
the latter was far the most powerful in the mind of Capt. Lovell. But
she purposely closed her eyes to this unpleasant suspicion. She was in
love with the handsome captain, and it was the great object of her
life to become his wife. She decided to answer the letter immediately.
Her desk was at hand, and she opened it at once, and wrote a brief
letter to her absent lover.
“DEAR GREGORY: I have just returned. I am deeply
disappointed to find you absent; for, my darling, I have
succeeded. I have legal proof—proof that cannot be
disputed—that the boy, my husband’s cousin, is dead. The
poor boy was accidentally killed. I have the sworn affidavit
of the man who took him to America, and who was his constant
companion there.
“It is a sad fate for the poor boy. I sincerely deplore his
tragical end—he was run over by a train—yet—is it
wicked?—my grief is mitigated by the thought that it
removes every obstacle to our union. I do not for an instant
charge you with interested motives. I am sure of your love,
but I also comprehend the necessities of your position. You
have been brought up as a gentleman, and you have the tastes
of a gentleman. You cannot surrender your social position.
It is necessary that, if you marry, you should have an
adequate income to live upon. My darling Gregory, I am proud
and happy in the thought that I can make you such. You know
my estate. The rental is two thousand pounds, and that is
enough to maintain our social rank. Come home, then, as soon
as you receive this letter. I am awaiting you impatiently,
and can hardly reconcile myself to the delay that must be.
Make it as short as possible, and let me hear from you at
once.
“Your own
“JANE MIDDLETON.”
There was unexpected delay in the reception of this letter. It was
three months before it came into the hands of Capt. Lovell. When at
length it was received, he read it with a mixture of emotions.
“Decidedly,” he said, removing the cigar from his mouth, “the old girl
is fond of me. I wish I were fond of her, for I suppose I must marry
her. It will be rather a bad pill to swallow, but it is well gilded.
Two thousand pounds a year are not to be thrown away by a fellow in my
straits. The prospect might be brighter, but I suppose I have no right
to complain. It will make me comfortable for life. I must take care to
have the estate settled upon me, and then the sooner the old girl dies
the better.”
So Capt. Lovell wrote at once, saying that he would return home as
soon as he could make arrangements for doing so—that every day would
seem a month till he could once more embrace his dear Jane. The letter
was signed, “Your devoted Gregory.”
Mrs. Middleton read it with unfeigned delight. Her plans had
succeeded, and the reward would soon be hers.
But there was fresh delay. Arrangements to return could not be made so
easily as Capt. Lovell anticipated. It was seven months from the day
that Mrs. Middleton reached England when Capt. Lovell was driven to
his hotel in London. Meanwhile events had occurred which were to have
an effect upon Mrs. Middleton’s plans.