"Hooray, here's Charley Vining!" cried Nelly, as Sir Philip and his son
entered the Brays' drawing-room; and bounding over the carpet, she ran
up, and caught the latter by the hand; but as Charley shook both her
thin hands warmly, he glanced across the room to where Laura was
standing, flushed and happy.
"Are you better?" he said, as he crossed over.
"Better? yes," she said softly; "and so happy!"
There was such a look of intensified joy in Laura's face, that as he
took his seat beside her, Charley Vining smiled pleasantly. He was
accepting his fate.
And why not, he asked himself, when, with all their eccentricities, the
family seemed ready to worship him? Sir Philip and Mr Bray had no
sooner taken their places in a corner of the lesser drawing-room, and
commenced their discussion upon the projected improvements, than Mrs
Bray crossed over to where Charley was seated, and probably for the
first time in her life forbore to shriek, and, leaning over him,
actually whispered, as she stooped and kissed him on the forehead.
"Bless you, Vining! you have made us all so happy! But I have not said
a word to him."
Charley felt disposed to frown; but there was a genuine mother's tear
left upon his forehead, and he pressed Mrs Bray's hand as she left him,
carrying off Nelly at the same time.
It was all settled, then; it was to be. And why not? Let it be so,
then. Some people said there was no fate in these things; what, then,
was this, if it were not fate?
But he accepted it all, asking himself the while, could the gentle
tremulous woman at his side be the Laura of old? How she drank in his
every glance, eagerly listening for each word! Could he, as he had said
he would, thoroughly dismiss the past, life might, after all, be
endurable.
So he reasoned, as the evening passed away.
They had had tea, and Nelly had been sent to the piano to play piece
after piece, not one of which was listened to, for those present were
intent upon their own affairs. Charley talked in a low voice to Laura,
Mrs Bray dozed in an easy-chair, and Nelly kept to her music.
Meanwhile the question of draining Holt Moors had been discussed and
rediscussed. Farming matters had been talked over, and the state of
Blandfield Park; Mr Bray strongly advising a particular breed of sheep
for keeping the grass short and lawnlike, giving his opinions freely,
and at the same time listening with deference to those of his old
friend.
At last, during a pause, Sir Philip caught Mr Bray's eye, and nodded
towards the other room.
"That's a picture, Bray!" he said. "Ah," said Mr Bray, as he gazed for
a few moments at where--a noble-looking couple--Charley and Laura sat
together in the soft light shed by the lamps, "I wish, Vining, I had had
such a son. It seems hard to speak against one's own flesh and blood,
but my Max--"
He did not finish his sentence, but shrugged his shoulders, laughing
pleasantly, as tall thin Nelly came and rested her weak loose body
against his shoulder, before laying her cheek against his bald head,
afterwards polishing the shiny white hemisphere with her little hand,
rubbing it round and round, round and round; while, apparently approving
thereof, Papa Bray drew his child upon his knee, and went on talking.
But suddenly he ceased; for, rising, and with her hand in his, and one
arm round her waist, Charley Vining walked with Laura towards where the
old men sat, and Nelly, with the tears in her eyes, glided away to the
seat just vacated.
"Mr Bray--father," said Charley quietly, as he stopped in front of
them, "Laura has promised to be my wife: have you any objection?"
The next moment Sir Philip Vining had folded Laura in his arms, kissing
her lovingly, as Mr Bray caught Charley's hands in his, shaking them
warmly.
"My dear boy," he exclaimed, "you make me very proud--happiest day of my
life!"
"Charley, my son," said Sir Philip, stretching out one hand to take his
son's, and speaking in a voice that showed how he was moved, "thank you,
thank you; you have made me very happy."
Half an hour after, they were leave-taking; and as Charley kissed Nelly
and bade her warmly "good-night," there was a tear left upon his lips.
"What, little one!" he said gaily, "in trouble? What is it? You don't
think I've jilted you, do you?"
"Don't talk stuff, Charley!" she said gravely. "I'm very happy; but I
feel like marble--just as if there were dark veins running all through
me."
"Marble? veins?" said Charley in a puzzled tone.
"Yes; dark veins, like sorrowful thoughts; for though I'm very glad that
you are going to be my own dear brother--and something like a brother
too!--I can't help feeling sorry about my poor Miss Bedford."
Charley started from her as if he had been stung; but no one but Nelly
noticed it. Five minutes after, Sir Philip and he were in the Brays'
carriage, and on their way home, for Mr Bray had insisted upon their
having it in place of a cab.
There was no farther talk of going back to Blandfield Court till the
Brays left town next week, and to all intents and purposes the Vinings
lived in Harley-street. But Charley found time for a visit to Mr
Whittrick, to see if there was any payment due.
"Happy to attend upon you, if you require my services again, Mr
Vining," he said, as he pocketed a cheque; and then he bowed his client
out.
It was that same morning that, returning to lunch in Harley-street,
Charley found Laura seated frowningly over a note, which she made as if
to conceal upon his entrance; but directly after, as if blushing for her
weakness, she stood up, holding the letter in her hand.
"Am I to be jealous?" he said laughingly, as he saluted her.
"I was afraid it might hurt your feelings, Charley," she said, as her
arms were resting on his shoulder. "Can you bear to hear its contents?
It is from Max."
"Yes," said Charley moodily, and with the veins in his forehead
swelling.
"He asks me to try and mediate--to try and make you think less angrily
of him."
"Where is he?" said Charley abruptly.
"I do not know," said Laura. "Somewhere in the west of England. The
postmark is Plymouth."
"Laura," said Charley sternly, "I cannot forgive him. Max and I must
never meet! Don't look so serious--I cannot help it. I am, I know,
hard and unrelenting--But there, no tears! Why, you are trembling. I
am not angry."
"No, no; I know you are not," she whispered, nestling closer to him.
"You must not be. I shall be so glad to get down to the old place
again."
"And I as well," said Charley.
And, probably in deference to their wishes, both families started on the
following day for their country seats.
Volume 3, Chapter V.