Maurice tried to relieve his impatience by spending the very first half
hour when he was not required to sit with his grandfather, in writing to
Mrs. Costello. If the Atlantic telegraph had but been in operation she
might have been startled by some vehement message coming in immediate
protest against her decision; but as it was, the letter which could not,
at the very best, reach her in much less than a fortnight, was full of
fiery haste and eagerness. As for reason or argument, it made no attempt
at either. It began with a simple unqualified declaration that what she
had said was, as far as it regarded Maurice himself, of no value or
effect whatever, that he remained in exactly the same mind as when he
left Canada, and that nothing whatever would alter him, except Lucia's
preference for some other person. He went on to say that he could still
wait, but that as the strongest purpose of his life would be to give
Lucia the choice of accepting or refusing him as soon as he had a home
to offer her, it was needless unkindness to try to conceal her from him.
Wherever she might be, he should certainly find her in the end, and he
implored her mother to spare him the anxiety and delay of a search.
Finally he wrote, "I cannot understand in the least what you can mean by
the reason you give for casting me off, but you seem to have forgotten
that if any disgrace (I hate to use the word), either real or imaginary,
has fallen upon you, it is the more and not the less needful that you
should have all the help and support I can give you. That may not be
much, but such as it is I have a right to offer it, and you to accept
it."
The letter wound up with the most urgent entreaties that she would
answer it at once, and give up entirely the useless attempt to separate
him from Lucia; and when it was finished and sent off, quite regardless
of the fact that it would have left England just as soon if written two
days later, he began to feel a little comforted, and as if he had at
any rate put a stop to the worst evil that threatened him.
But the relief lasted only a few hours. By the next day he was
tormenting himself with all the ingenuity of which he was capable, and
the task of amusing Mr. Beresford was ten thousand times harder than
ever. He did it, and did it better than usual, but only because he was
so annoyed at his own anxiety and absence of mind that he set himself
with a sort of dogged determination to conquer them, or at any rate keep
them out of sight. The more, however, that he held his thoughts shut up
in his own mind, the more active and troublesome they became, and an
idea took possession of him, which he made very few efforts to shake
off, though he could not at first see clearly how to carry it into
execution.
This idea was that he must return to Canada. He thought that one hour of
actual presence would do more for his cause than a hundred letters--nay,
he did not despair of persuading Mrs. Costello to bring Lucia to
England, where he could keep some watch and guard over them both; but,
at any rate, he had a strong fancy that he might at once learn the
secret of her distress himself, and help her to keep it from others. He
calculated that six weeks' absence from Hunsdon would enable him to do
this, and at the same time to make arrangements for his father's comfort
more satisfactory than the present ones. The last inducement was, of
course, the one he meant to make bear the weight of his sudden anxiety,
and after much deliberation, or what he thought was deliberation, he
decided that the first thing to be done was to interest his cousin in
his plans and try to get her help.
But as it happened, Lady Dighton was just at that moment away from home.
She and Sir John were staying at a house which, though nearer to Hunsdon
than to their own home, was a considerable distance for morning
visitors, even in the country. Still Maurice, who had some acquaintance
with the family, thought he might ride over and see her there, and take
his chance of being able to get an opportunity of explaining the service
he wanted her to do him. However, a slight increase of illness in Mr.
Beresford prevented him from getting away from home, and he was obliged
to wait with what patience he could for her next visit to Hunsdon.
Mr. Beresford's health appeared to return to its usual condition, and
grateful for the comfort Maurice's presence had been to him during his
greater suffering, he seemed to be every day more satisfied with and
attached to his heir. The disadvantage of this was that he required more
and more of Maurice's company, and seemed to dislike sparing him a
moment except while he slept. This was not promising for the success of
any scheme of absence, but, on the other hand, there was so much of
reason and consideration for his grandson, mixed with the invalid's
exactions, that it seemed not hopeless to try to obtain his consent.
After an interval of more than a week, Lady Dighton reappeared at
Hunsdon, and Maurice's opportunity arrived. It was during their
invariable _tête-à-tête_ while Mr. Beresford slept that the wished-for
conversation took place, and Lady Dighton unconsciously helped her
cousin to begin it by telling him laughing that she had been looking out
for a wife for him, and found one that she thought would do exactly.
"You must contrive by some means or other," she said, "to get away from
Hunsdon a little more than you have been doing, and come over to Dighton
for a day or two, that I may introduce you."
"I wish with all my heart," he answered quickly, "that I could get away
from Hunsdon for a little while, but I am afraid I should use my liberty
to go much further than Dighton."
She looked at him with surprise.
"I did not know," she said, "that you had any friends in England except
here."
"I have none. What I mean is that I want to go back to Canada for a week
or two."
"To Canada! The other side of the world! What do you mean?"
"Nothing very unreasonable. I am very uneasy about my father, who is
almost as great an invalid as my grandfather, and has no one but an old
housekeeper to take care of him. I should like to go and bring him to
England."
It was very well for Maurice to try to speak as coolly as possible, and
even to succeed in making his voice sound perfectly innocent and
natural, but he was of much too frank a nature to play off this little
piece of dissimulation without a tell-tale change of countenance. Lady
Dighton's sharp eyes saw quite plainly that there was something untold,
but she took no notice of that for the present, and answered as if she
saw nothing.
"Have you worse accounts of his health?"
"No; not worse. But he will be quite alone."
"More alone than when you first left him? I do not quite understand."
"Yes; some very near neighbours--old friends of his and my mother's--are
going to leave Cacouna. I had no reason to be uneasy about him while
they were there. Do you think my grandfather could be persuaded to spare
me for six weeks?"
"Not willingly, I think. Could not my uncle come home without your
going?"
Maurice felt as if he were caught in his own trap, but he recollected
himself in a moment.
"There would be many things to do," he said. "Affairs to settle, the
farm to sell or let, and the household, small as it is, to break up."
Lady Dighton laughed outright.
"And you imagine that you could do all that, and carry your father off
besides, in the space of a fortnight, which is the very utmost you could
possibly have out of your six weeks! Really, Maurice, I gave you credit
for more reasonableness."
"I have no doubt I could do it," he said, a little vexed, "and of
course I should try to get back as quickly as possible."
"Well, let me see if I cannot suggest something a little more
practicable. Is there no person who would undertake the management of
the mere business part of the arrangements?"
"Yes," Maurice answered a little reluctantly. "I dare say there is."
"As for the breaking up of the household, I should think my uncle would
like to give the directions himself, and I do not see what more you
could do; and for anything regarding his comfort, could not you trust to
those old friends you spoke of?"
Maurice shook his head impatiently.
"They are going away--for anything I know, they may be gone now. No,
Louisa, your schemes are very good, but they will not do. I must go
myself; that is, if I can."
"And the fact of the matter is that you want me to help you to persuade
grandpapa that he can spare you."
"Will you help me? I know it will be hard. I would not ask him if I were
not half wild with anxiety."
Lady Dighton looked at her cousin's face, which was indeed full of
excitement.
"What a good son you are, Maurice," she said slowly.
Maurice felt the blood rush to his very temples.
"I am a dreadful humbug," he said, feeling that the confession must
come. "Don't be shocked, Louisa; it is not altogether about my father,
but I tell you the truth when I say that I am half wild."
She smiled in a sort of satisfied, self-gratulatory way, and said,
"Well," which was just what was needed, and brought out all that Maurice
could tell about the Costellos. He said to himself afterwards that he
had from the first been half disposed to confess the whole story, and
only wanted to know how she was likely to take it; but the truth was
that, being as utterly unskilful as man could be in anything like
deception, he had placed himself in a dilemma from which she only meant
to let him extricate himself by telling her what was really in his mind.
So Lady Dighton made her first acquaintance with Lucia, not, as Maurice
had dreamed of her doing, in bodily presence, but through the golden
mist of a lover's description; in the midst of which she tried to see a
common-place rustic beauty, but could not quite succeed; and half
against her will began to yield to the illusion (if illusion it was)
which presented to her a queenly yet maidenly vision, a brilliant flower
which might be worth transplanting from the woods even to the stately
shelter of Hunsdon. It was clear enough that this girl, whatever she
might be, had too firm a hold upon Maurice's heart to be easily
displaced; and his cousin, not being altogether past the age of romance
herself, gave up at once all her vague schemes of match-making in his
service, and applied herself to the serious consideration how to obtain
from her grandfather the desired leave of absence.
She did not, of course, understand all the story. The impression she
derived from what Maurice told her was that Mrs. Costello, after having
encouraged the intimacy and affection between her daughter and him up to
the time of his great change of position and prospects, had now thought
it more honourable to break off their intercourse, and carry her child
away, lest he should feel bound to what was now an unequal connection.
This idea of Lady Dighton's arose simply from a misconception of
Maurice's evident reserve in certain parts of his confidence. _He_
thought only of concealing all Mrs. Costello would wish concealed; and
_she_ dreamt of no other reason for the change of which he told her,
than the very proper and reasonable one of the recent disparity of
fortune.
Maurice was so delighted at finding a ready ally that the moment his
cousin signified her willingness to help him, he began to fancy his
difficulties were half removed, and had to be warned that only the first
and least important step had been taken.
"In the next place," Lady Dighton said, "we must consult Dr. Edwards."
"What for," asked Maurice in some perplexity.
"To know whether it would be safe to propose to my grandfather the loss
of his heir."
"But for six weeks? It is really nothing."
"Nothing to you or me perhaps, but I am afraid it is a good deal to him,
poor old man."
"Louisa, I assure you, I would not ask him to spare me for a day if it
were not a thing that must be done now, and that I should all my life
regret leaving undone."
She looked at him with an amused smile. People in love do so overrate
trifles; but she was really of opinion that he should go if possible.
"Yes," she said, "I understand that. And I do not myself see any
particular cause for delaying since it must be done. But still I think
it would be well to ask the Doctor's opinion first."
"That is easy at any rate. He will be here to-morrow morning."
"And when do you wish to start?"
"By the first mail. I would not lose an hour if I could help it."
"You would frighten your father to death. No, you must wait a week
certainly."
"I wish I were certain of being off in a week."
"Unreasonable boy! You talk of going across the Atlantic as other people
do of going across the Channel. See, there is Brown, grandpapa must be
awake."
They went into the library and found Mr. Beresford quite ready for an
hour or two of cheerful chat about the thousand trifles with which his
granddaughter always contrived to amuse him. Then she went away, turning
as she drove off to give Maurice a last encouraging nod; and not long
after, Mr. Beresford complained of being more drowsy than usual, and
asked Maurice to read him to sleep.
A book, not too amusing, was found, and the reading began; but the
reader's thoughts had wandered far from it and from Hunsdon, when they
were suddenly recalled by a strange gurgling gasping sound. Alas! for
Maurice's hopes. His grandfather lay struggling for the second time in
the grasp of paralysis.
They carried him to his bed, dumb and more than half unconscious; and
there day after day, and week after week, he lay between life and death;
taking little notice of anybody, but growing so restlessly uneasy
whenever Maurice was out of his sight, that all they thought of doing
was contriving by every possible means to save him the one disquiet of
which he still seemed capable.