When she descended to the parlour her father and mother were already
seated at the breakfast-table. To her courteous ‘good-morning’ they
vouchsafed no reply. They were evidently still displeased with her for
her rebellion of the night before. Nell went up to the farmer’s side
and laid her hand on his.
‘Father,’ she said in a trembling voice, ‘I have been thinking over
what you asked me yesterday, and I am willing to do as you say. I will
go to Lord Ilfracombe and ask him to intercede with Sir Archibald
Bowmant about the raising of your rent.’
This avowal changed the manner of both the old people at once.
‘That’s my good lass!’ exclaimed her mother. ‘I knew you wouldn’t hold
out against father and me for long.’
‘Well done, Nell!’ replied Mr Llewellyn; ‘and you’ll succeed, my girl,
for it’s few men, be they lords or ploughboys, that would like to
refuse anything to a face like yours.’
‘Lor’! father, don’t go puffing the maid up on her good looks,’
cried his wife. ‘Handsome is as handsome does; that’s my motto. But
I don’t think his lordship will refuse her all the same; for he was
rare generous to her whilst she was in service. Ah, Nell, ’twas the
foolishest thing as you ever did to chuck up that place. You might find
out, whilst you’re about it, if there should happen to be a vacancy in
her ladyship’s house now.’
‘All right, mother,’ said Nell gently; and then, drawing a letter from
her pocket, she continued--‘I wrote this note to Lord Ilfracombe last
night, father; and, if you approve it, you might send it over to the
Hall by Tom.’
She unfolded the paper and read,--
‘MY LORD,--My father wishes that I should speak to you
on a matter important to himself. If it should be quite
convenient, will your lordship send word by the bearer
at what hour this morning I could have a few minutes’
conversation with you?--Yours respectfully,
‘E. LLEWELLYN.’
‘A very proper note,’ said her mother approvingly.
‘Ay, and don’t our Nell write a neat hand?’ put in the farmer. ‘You’re
a rare scholar, Nell, though I don’t know where you got it; for Hetty,
who had the same advantages, can’t do more than manage a few words,
and them not legible. It’ll do rarely, my lass, and is just the thing
I wanted. His lordship can’t refuse so simple a request. I’ll send Tom
over with it at once.’ And he rose from the table for the purpose.
‘Come now, my girl, sit down, do, and eat your breakfast,’ quoth Mrs
Llewellyn, seeing that her daughter still lingered by the window.
‘No, thank you, mother. I don’t feel like eating this morning. I wrote
the letter because I don’t like to cross father, but I’ve a faint heart
about it. The earl may not like to be worried now he is out for a
holiday, and I’d be loath to make him angry.’
‘Nonsense, Nell. He must be a cranky fellow if a little note like yours
would put him out. He can but say, “No,” lass, and then there’ll be no
harm done. But if you hadn’t writ it, father would likely have always
thought you might have saved the rent if you’d a mind to, so it’s just
as well to humour him. Come, take your tea, or I’ll be angry.’
The girl drank the cup of tea which her mother handed her, and took up
her station again by the window.
If he should be angry, she thought; or if he should be engaged and
unable to see her, how could she face the other without knowing the
worst, or the best? And if the best, what then? Her life seemed to have
become a tangled coil which she had no power of unravelling. In about
half an hour she saw the hedger, Tom, shambling down the dell with a
white envelope in his hands. She rushed forward feverishly to intercept
him. It was stamped with the earl’s coronet. Nell tore it open and
devoured its contents.
‘MY DEAR MISS LLEWELLYN,--If you will be in Mrs Hody’s
sitting-room at eleven o’clock, I will come to you there
for a few minutes.--Yours faithfully,
‘ILFRACOMBE.’
He would see her, then; she would see him! All, for the moment, seemed
bright again.
Her parents were delighted with the news.
‘There, now, what did I tell ye?’ said Mr Llewellyn; ‘I knew no
gentleman, let alone a lord, would refuse to see a servant as had done
her duty by him. You’ve done the job now, Nell, as sure as a gun. The
earl will persuade Sir Archibald to lower the rent again, and mother
and me will feel we owe it all to you. Give me a buss, lass! It’s
summat for a man to have such a handsome daughter to boast of. They may
say as beauty’s deceitful, but it beats brains any day. You’ve saved
the old farm to us, my girl, and I’m thankful to you for it.’
‘I’ll do my best, dear father,’ said Nell; ‘but you mustn’t make too
sure. The earl, with all the good-will in the world, may not have the
power, but I’m sure he’ll try to get it done.’
‘And when did you ever hear of a lord trying for anything that didn’t
succeed?’ exclaimed her mother; ‘it isn’t as if he was a nobody! But
come, my lass, you mustn’t go up to the Hall in that soiled dress.
You’ve a clean print in your drawers, so go and put it on, and make
your hair tidy. It looks as if you’d been up all night.’
And the old woman bundled her daughter upstairs to look after her
wardrobe.
‘Now, where did you put that nasty poison?’ she asked, as they entered
the bedroom together.
‘Where you told me, mother; on the top of the wardrobe,’ answered Nell.
‘Have you written a label for it yet?’
‘No; I forgot to do so.’
‘Well, don’t you put it off another day,’ replied Mrs Llewellyn; ‘for
father was quite vexed with me for letting the bottle go out of my
hands. He says a wineglassful of that stuff would kill the strongest
man in Monmouth.’
‘No one can get at it there,’ said Nell, quietly.
‘That’s all right then, but I shouldn’t like for there to be an
accident with it. Here, Nell, tie this blue silk handkerchief round
your throat. You always look so nice in blue, I think.’
Nell assented passively to all her mother’s propositions, and, putting
a straw hat on her head, walked slowly up the meadow and through the
pine plantation, to the private apartments of the housekeeper at the
Hall.
‘Well, Nell,’ said Mrs Hody when she arrived there, ‘and so you’ve come
to have a private audience of his lordship. He came to tell me he would
see you here at eleven o’clock, but as it was a private matter, he did
not wish to have it discussed in the dining-room, so I was to send him
word quietly when you arrived. And what can you have to say to the
earl, I wonder, as all the world can’t hear?’
‘I asked to speak to Lord Ilfracombe on some business connected with my
father, Mrs Hody,’ replied Nell, blushing; ‘he was my former master,
you know, or father would have come himself, but he thought his
lordship would rather see me.’
‘Ah! well, I suppose it’s all right,’ responded the virtuous
housekeeper; ‘but I should have thought the study or the gunroom would
have been a fitter place. However, now you’re here, please to sit
down, and I’ll go and tell his lordship as you’re come. You may have
to wait a bit, I’m not sure as they’ve finished breakfast, but he’ll
be here, I suppose, before long. Bless me, but you do look dazed, Nell
Llewellyn; that fever has run you down terrible. Will you have a glass
of wine before I go?’
‘No thank you, Mrs Hody,’ replied the girl, as she sat down in a chair
and leaned her aching head against the wall. Mrs Hody bustled out
of the room, and it seemed ages to Nell before any one came to join
her. She heard voices and laughter proceeding from the garden, and
many other sounds indicative of life and enjoyment, but all about the
housekeeper’s domains, the intensest quiet seemed to reign. At last it
was broken by the sound of a light quick footstep which made Nell’s
heart leap within her bosom, coming along the stone passage, and in
another moment, the door opened and closed, and Lord Ilfracombe stood
before her. Nell struggled to her feet to meet him.
‘Oh! Vernie,’ were her first words; ‘it is not my fault.’
‘Hus--h’ said the earl, as he opened the door again and listened to
hear if by any chance they could be overheard; ‘you mustn’t call me
by that name, Nell, lest any of the servants should have a mind for
eavesdropping.’
It was a small thing and a very natural thing for him to say, but it
fell on the girl’s excited spirits like a cold douche.
‘I forgot, forgive me,’ she recommenced; ‘it was not my fault (I was
going to say) that you received that note,--my lord. I would not have
sent it to the Hall on any account, but my father fancied I might have
some influence with you in a certain matter, and insisted on my asking
to see you.’
‘It is all right,’ he said kindly; ‘only we must keep to the
business--you understand.’
‘Oh! yes,’ she answered, with a catch in her breath, ‘and it is soon
told. My father has been a tenant of Sir Archibald’s for many years,
twenty-five, I think, or more, he has lived at Panty-cuckoo Farm all
his married life, and both I and my sister were born there. Father has
done a great deal for the land, and spent a lot of money on it, but
Sir Archibald Bowmant keeps raising the rent until he fears it will
be impossible for him to keep it on, and he thought perhaps--father
thought that--_you_ might be able to help him by your influence with
Sir Archibald.’
‘But I don’t quite understand,’ said the earl; ‘what is it Mr Llewellyn
wants me to do, Nell?’
‘He fancied you might be able to remonstrate with Sir Archibald,
because it is so unfair.’
Lord Ilfracombe looked grave.
‘I am sorry to refuse any request of your father’s, but I really don’t
see my way to it. I am not a friend of Sir Archibald’s, you see. I am
quite a new acquaintance, and I know nothing of his monetary affairs.
I am afraid he would resent any interference on my part as a liberty.’
‘I told father so, replied Nell, whose eyes were fixed on the earl all
the time. ‘I thought just the same myself, but he was so obstinate. I
did not know how to refuse him, without--raising his suspicions.’
‘Ah--!’ replied Ilfracombe, thoughtfully, ‘_now_, don’t you see the
imprudence of refusing to accept any settlement at my hands, Nell? You
might have helped your father in this emergency.’
‘Not with _your_ money, Lord Ilfracombe, given in such a cause. You
don’t know my father. He would have died sooner than have taken it.’
‘Like his daughter,’ said the earl; ‘well, you don’t know how unhappy
you have made me by refusing all assistance at my hands; and since
I met you the other evening and learned that you were alive, you
have occupied all my thoughts, Nell. I will tell you what I will do,
if possible. I will ask Sir Archibald Bowmant if he will sell me
Panty-cuckoo Farm, and if he will part with the property, and I become
your father’s landlord, he need not fear my raising the rent to him, I
should feel much more inclined to lower it. And then some day, Nell,
when you marry, as I have done, you will let me settle the old farm
on you as a wedding present, and set my poor conscience at rest for
evermore, won’t you?’
Nell set her teeth hard together as she replied,--
‘Would you like to see me married, would it make you happier?’
There was not much need for him to answer, the light that illumined his
whole face at the idea was sufficient answer.
‘Is there any chance of it?’ he asked her, eagerly.
‘There is an excellent chance if I chose to accept it. A man, a
gentleman, who knows the circumstances of my life, and so cannot say
afterwards that I have deceived him, has made me an offer of marriage,
though I have not yet definitely accepted him.’
‘And do you like him, Nell? Will he be kind to you?’ said Ilfracombe.
He would have liked to see her respectably married, for whilst she
lived as she was doing now she was a constant reproach to him, but,
like all his sex, though unwilling to accept the responsibility
himself, he did not _quite_ like the idea of any other man possessing
what had been his. But he stamped down the feeling. It would decidedly
be for the best, he said to himself.
‘Does he love you? Would he be good to you?’ he repeated anxiously.
‘He _says_ he loves me,’ she answered slowly, ‘and I shall take good
care he is not unkind to me.’
‘A man would be a brute who could be unkind to you’ said the earl, with
deep feeling in his voice, ‘Nell, I think that your illness has made
you more beautiful than ever. It has refined your whole appearance. But
this man--I am glad he is a gentleman; you are not fit to be the wife
of a clown, and you can hold your own with any lady in the land.’
‘So you advise me to marry him,’ she said, raising her large liquid
eyes to his face.
Ilfracombe remembered afterwards how much they looked like the eyes of
a dumb animal that regard you patiently, never mind what pain you may
be putting it to, but at the time he only saw their pathetic beauty.
‘My dear girl,’ he replied, drawing nearer to her, and taking her
hand in his; ‘how can I do otherwise than advise you to accept this
proposal, that is if the fellow has enough to keep you in a decent
position of life. It is hard for a woman to fight the world alone,
Nell. You are very beautiful, and the world will look kindly on you
whilst you remain so; but beauty does not last for ever, and when
the evil days of old age and perhaps penury come, it is well for a
woman if she is an honoured and respected wife. You know I must feel
very deeply on this subject, for the reason that _I_, in my reckless
thoughtlessness, have done so much to mar your prospects of making a
good marriage; but if I find that, spite of all, you _do_ marry well, I
shall be a very grateful and a very happy man,’
‘If I knew that you would have no regrets,’ said Nell, with white
parched lips; ‘if I were sure that you loved your wife, and she loved
you--’
‘Oh, if that assurance will make your task easier, my poor Nell, let
me give it you,’ cried Ilfracombe; ‘and indeed I am sure it is better
in any case, since everything between us two is over, that we should
understand each other perfectly on that point. I _do_ love my wife with
all my heart, and I hope--nay, I believe she loves me almost as well.
You could hardly suppose that I should have married her else--under
the circumstances. She had no money, no particular birth, and no
particular good looks. What should I have married her for, except for
love? But she took me completely by storm the first time I met her, and
I have been at her feet ever since. So you need have no scruples on
that score. And I believe, Nell--indeed, I feel sure that if you were
married, and especially to a gentleman, Nora would prove a true friend
to you. She is a warm-hearted girl without any affectation about her,
and I told her the history of our acquaintance, and she was genuinely
sorry for your fate. You need fear nothing from Nora. She will be as
glad to hear you are happily married as I shall be.’
‘That is enough,’ said Nell, in a low voice, ‘that settles the matter
my lord, but I thought I should like to hear you say so with your own
lips first. The next thing you will hear of will be my marriage.’
‘But when is it to be Nell, and what is the happy man’s name?’ asked
the earl in quite a new voice, it was so merry, and buoyant, and
relieved.
‘Oh, you will know all that in good time,’ replied the girl, trying to
imitate his cheerfulness; ‘it is not quite a settled thing yet, but it
will be soon now.’
‘And you will not refuse to take a wedding present from me, Nell,
for the old times’ sake, will you?’ said Ilfracombe, insinuatingly;
‘perhaps it may be Panty-cuckoo Farm, who knows? If Sir Archibald
consents to part with it, and then you will be your father’s landlord.
Wouldn’t that be funny? How surprised the old people would be when you
showed them the title-deeds. And you will let me have the very first
intimation of the event, won’t you?’
‘I will, my lord,’ said Nell, in a dull, constrained tone.
‘No, no, Nelly, not that. I was only obliged to caution you just now,
because the servants are so beastly curious in this house. But we are
quite alone, and you must call me ‘Vernie’ again, just once more, and
kiss me as you used to do in the old days.’
She turned and caught him passionately to her breast, and murmured in
his ear, ‘Vernie, Vernie. God bless you for ever.’
‘God bless you Nell,’ he responded as he kissed her heartily in return.
‘I am going now,’ she said presently with trembling lips, ‘and we
may not meet again--not just yet. You offered to do great things for
me, Vernie, but I would rather you were a friend to my old father.
If--if--anything should happen to me, will you be kind to him for my
sake? Give him a little help if he should need it, dear, or become his
landlord if possible, which would please me better than anything.’
‘I will be his friend and yours, Nell, to my life’s end,’ replied
Ilfracombe; ‘and if I cannot purchase Panty-cuckoo Farm, and matters
grow worse here, he shall have one of my own farms in Huntingdonshire,
and be comfortable for the rest of his days. But why do you say, “if
anything should happen to you?” What should happen, my dear? You are
getting well and strong, and shall live to a hundred years with your
good man.’
‘Do you think so?’ replied the girl, with a sad smile. ‘Well, if I do,
my parents shall owe their comfort to no other hand than mine; and if I
don’t, you will not forget your promise to me.’
And before he could say another word to her, she was gone. The two old
people were waiting her return with the greatest anxiety, and exuberant
were their rejoicings when they heard the news she had to tell. The
earl had not only promised to try and purchase Panty-cuckoo Farm, but
had said that in the event of his failure, he would transplant them all
to one of his own farms in Huntingdonshire.
‘Ay,’ exclaimed the old man, ‘though it’ll be a sore wrench to leave
Panty-cuckoo, it will be a fine thing to live under his lordship’s
tenancy. Sir Archibald, he’s only an upstart when all’s said and done.
His father was the first baronet, and it takes centuries to make
’em know their places. He wouldn’t never have thought of sweating
the tenantry for to pay his own rates and taxes, if he’s been a
thorough-bred ‘un, but I suppose he knows no better. But the Earl of
Ilfracombe, why, of course, _he_ knows how to treat those that work
to make the prosperity of the country. He’s a real aristocrat, born
and bred, and wouldn’t demean himself to raise a man’s rent to pay for
his own extravagances. Whatever we might feel at leaving the old farm,
lass, I don’t know if we wouldn’t be wiser to take his lordship’s offer
at once, and transplant all our goods and chattels to Huntingdonshire.’
‘But you mustn’t do anything in a hurry, father,’ exclaimed his wife,
alarmed by the rapidity of her good man’s ideas; ‘you must wait till
we have word from his lordship. But it’s a fine thing you thought of
sending our Nell over to the Hall to speak with him. It’s made our
fortunes. We shall all be the better for it, sha’n’t us, my lass?’
‘Yes, _all_,’ replied her daughter in a dull tone, as if she were
dreaming.
‘Now I declare girl, if you haven’t got one of your muddly fits on
again,’ said Mrs Llewellyn. ‘If you spoke to his lordship in that sort
of way, I wonder he ever listened to you. He must have thought you were
half asleep. It all comes of your taking no breakfast. Who ever heard
of a healthy young woman beginning the day on an empty stomach? It’s
absurd to think of such a thing.’
Nell went up to her mother, and kissed her wrinkled forehead.
‘Never mind, mother,’ she said gently; ‘don’t grumble at me to-day,
for I don’t feel as if I could bear it. You shall think better of me
to-morrow, I promise you.’
And she left the farmer and his wife to congratulate each other on the
possession of so handsome a daughter, that no one could find it in
their hearts to refuse her anything.
And Nell sat in her own room, thinking--thinking. It was nearing the
hour when she had promised to give Mr Portland her answer. He had
agreed to come to that place for it, and stand under her window
till she appeared to give it him. He was more eager for it than one
would have given him credit for. He had lain awake the night before,
wondering if Nell had really meant what she said, and what his life
would feel like when she brought her gracious presence into it. He
could jest and be sarcastic with her when he saw no likelihood of her
consenting to marry him, but now that she had half consented, his
feelings seemed already to have become somewhat purified by the very
possibility of such a thing. Perhaps those few hours of anticipation
formed the best part of Jack Portland’s existence--the least like the
years that had gone before it. He felt humbled as he looked back upon
the past--fearful as he contemplated the future. For the first time, he
knew himself to be utterly unworthy of the regard or the possession of
a good woman. And as he stood beneath Nell Llewellyn’s window, he felt
certain that she would tell him she could not consent to such a step.
Fancy, his relief and pleasure when she looked for a moment from the
casement and said:
‘Mr Portland, I have made up my mind, and _it is to be_.’