MEA CULPA.
There were all sorts of rooms at Dene, ranging through all degrees of
luxury, from magnificence down to comfort. To the last class certainly
belonged especial apartment, which, from time immemorial, had been
called "the Squire's own." For many generations this had represented the
withdrawing-room, the council chamber, the study, and the divan of the
easy-going potentates who had ruled the destinies of the House of
Vavasour; if their authority over the rest of the mansion was sometimes
disputed, _here_ at least they reigned supreme. There was easy access
from without, by a door opening on a narrow winding walk that led
through thick shrubberies into the stables, so that the Squires were
enabled to welcome in their sanctum, unobserved, such modest and
retiring comrades as, from the state of their apparel or of their
nerves, did not feel equal to the terrors of the grand entrance. Hither
also they were wont to resort, as a sure refuge, whenever they chanced
to be worsted in any domestic skirmish: though tradition preserves the
names of several imperious and powerful Chatelaines, and chronicles
their prowess, not one appears to have forced or even assailed these
entrenchments. It almost seemed as if provision had been made against a
sudden surprise; for, at the extremity of the passage leading to the
main part of the building, were two innocent-looking green-baized doors,
with great weights, so cunningly adjusted, that one, if not both of
them, was sure to escape from weak or unwary hands, and to close with an
awful thunderous bang, that went rolling along the vaulted stone roof,
till even a Dutch garrison would have been roused from its slumbers.
Very, very rarely had the rustle of feminine garments been heard within
these sacred precincts; hardly ever, indeed, since the times of wild
Philip Vavasour--"The Red Squire"--who, if all tales are true,
entertained singularly limited notions as to his own marital duties, and
enormously extensive ones as to _les droits de seigneurie_.
It was a large, square, low-browed room, lined on two sides with presses
and book-cases of black walnut wood, that, from their appearance, might
have been placed there when it was built. The furniture all matched
these, though evidently of quite recent date; the chairs, at least,
being constructed to meet every requirement of modern laziness or
lassitude. An immense mantelpiece of carved white marble, slightly
discolored by wood-smoke, rose nearly to the vaulted ceiling, in the
centre of which were the crest and arms of the family, wrought in
porphyry. There were two windows, large enough to let in ample light, in
spite of heavy stone mullions and armorial shields on every other
pane--the south one looking to the garden-front, the west into a quiet,
old-fashioned bowling-green, enclosed by yew hedges thick and even as an
ancient rampart, and trained at the corners into the shape of pillars
crowned with vases. Not a feature of the place seems to have been
altered since the times when some stout elderly Cavalier may have smoked
a digestive pipe in that centre arbour; or later, when some gallant of
Queen Anne's court may have doffed delicately his velvet coat, laying
it, like an offering, at Sacharissa's feet, ere he proceeded to win her
father's favour by losing any number of games.
A pleasant room at all hours, it is unusually picturesque at the moment
we speak of, from the effects of many-colored light and shade. A hot
August day is fast drawing to its close; the sun is so level that it
only just clears the yews sufficiently to throw into strong relief,
against a dark background, the _torso_ of a sitting figure which is well
worth a second glance.
You look upon a man past middle age, large-limbed, vast-chested, and
evidently of commanding stature, with proportions not yet too massive
for activity; indeed, his bearing may well have gained in dignity what
it has lost in grace. The face is still more remarkable. Searching
through the numberless portraits that line the picture-gallery, you will
hardly find a dozen where the personal beauty for which the Vavasours
have long been proverbial is more strikingly exemplified than in their
present representative. There are lines of silver--not unfrequent--in
the abundant chestnut hair and bushy whiskers; but fifty-four years have
not traced ten wrinkles on the high white forehead, nor filled the
outline of the well-cut aquiline features, nor altered the clearness of
the healthy, bright complexion, nor dimmed the pleasant light of the
large frank blue eyes. There is a fault, certainly--the want of
decision, about the mouth and all the lower part of the face; but even
this you are not disposed to cavil much at, after hearing once or twice
Hubert Vavasour's ready, ringing laugh, and watching his kindly smile.
His manner had that rare blending of gentle courtesy with honest
cordiality, that the rudest stoic finds irresistibly attractive: you
never could trace in it the faintest shade of condescension, or
aggravating affability. Presiding at his own table, talking to a tenant
at the cover-side, discussing the last opera with the fair Duchess of
Darlington, or smoking the peaceful midnight cigar with an old comrade,
the Squire of Dene seemed to be, and really was, equally happy, natural,
and _at home_.
At this particular moment the expression of his pleasant face was
unusually grave, and there was a cloud on his open brow, not of anger or
vexation, but decidedly betokening perplexity. He was evidently
pondering deeply over words that had just been addressed to him by the
only other occupant of the "study."
The latter was a tall man, slightly and gracefully built, apparently
about thirty; his pale, quiet face had no remarkable points of beauty,
except very brilliant dark eyes, looking larger and brighter from the
half-circles under them, and a mouth which was simply perfect. You could
not glance at him, however, without being reminded of all those stories
of unfortunate patricians, foiled in their endeavours to escape because
they _could_ not look like the coal-heaver, or rag-merchant, or clerk,
whose clothes they wore. If the whim had possessed Sir Alan Wyverne to
array himself, for the nonce, in the loudest and worst-assorted colors
that ever lent additional vulgarity to the person of a Manchester
"tiger," it is probable that the travestie would have been too palpable
to be amusing; he would still have looked precisely as he did now and
ever--from the crown of his small head to the sole of his slender
foot--"thoroughbred all through."
The intelligence which seemed to have involved the Squire in doubt and
disquietude was just this. Five minutes ago he had looked upon Wyverne
only as his favourite nephew; he had scarcely had time to get accustomed
to him in the new light of a possible son-in-law; for the substance of
Alan's brief confession was, that in the course of their afternoon's
ride he had wooed and (provisionally) won his fair cousin Helen.
Now, when the head of a family has five or six marriageable females to
dispose of, forming a beautiful sliding-scale, from 'thirty off'
downwards, his feelings, on hearing that one is to be taken off his
hands, are generally those of unmixed exhilaration. Under such
circumstances, the most prudent of "parents" is apt to look rather
hopefully than captiously into the chances of the future _menage_: he is
fain to cry out, like the "heavy father," "take her, you rascal, and
make her happy!" and indeed acts up to every part of the stage
direction, with the trifling exception of omitting the hand over the
bulky note-case, or the "property" purse of gold. But it is rather a
different affair when the damsel in question is an only daughter, fair
to look upon, and just in her nineteenth summer. _Then_ it will be seen,
how a man of average intellect can approve himself at need, keenly
calculating in foresight, unassailable in arguments, and grandiloquent
on the duties of paternity. His stern sagacity tramples on the roses
with which our romance would surround Love in a Cottage. It is no use
trying to put castles in Spain into settlements, when even Irish estates
are narrowly scrutinized. Perhaps we never were very sanguine about our
expectancies, but till this instant we never regarded them with such
utter depression and humility of spirit. Our cheery host of
yesternight--he who was so convivially determined on that "other bottle
before we join the ladies"--has vanished suddenly. In his stead there
sits one filling his arm-chair as though it were a judgment seat, and
freezing our guilty hearts with his awful eye. Our hopes are blighted so
rapidly, that before the hour is out not one poor leaf is left of the
garland that late bloomed so freshly. We have only one aim and object in
life now--to flee from that dread presence as quickly as we may, albeit
in worse plight than that of Sceva's sons. How sorry we are that we
spoke!
But Hubert Vavasour's voice was not angry nor even cold. If there was
the faintest accent of reproach there, it surely was unintentional; but
in its gravity was something of sadness.
"Alan, would it not have been better to have spoken first to me?"
His own conscience, more than that simple question or the tone in which
it was uttered, made Wyverne's cheek flush as he answered it.
"Dear Uncle Hubert, I own it was a grave fault. I am so sorry for not
having told you the secret first, that I hardly know how to ask even
_you_ to forgive me. But will you believe that there was no _malice
propense_? I swear that when I went out this afternoon, I had no more
idea of betraying myself to Helen than I had of proposing to any
Princess-Royal. I am sure I have no more right to aspire to one than the
other. But we were riding fast and carelessly through Holme Wood; a
branch caught Helen's _sombrero_, and held it fast. I went back for
it--we could not pull up for a second or two. When I joined her again,
she was trying to put in order some rebellious tresses which had escaped
from their net; the light shot down through the leaves on the dark
ripples of hair; there was the most delicious flush you can fancy on her
cheek, and her lips and eyes were laughing--so merrily! I don't believe
that the luck of painters ever let them dream of any thing half so
lovely. I suppose I've seen as many fair faces as most men of my age,
and I ought to be able to keep my head (if not my heart) by this time.
Well--_it went_, on the instant. I had no more self-control or
forethought than a schoolboy in his first love. Before I was aware, I
had said words that I ought never to have spoken, but which are very,
very hard to unsay. Don't ask me what she answered. I should have been
still unworthy of those words if, since my manhood begun, I had never
done one ill deed, never thrown one chance away. Uncle Hubert, you can't
blame me as much as I despise myself. The idea of a man's having got
through a good fortune and the best years of his life, without having
learnt--when to hold his tongue."
The clouds had been clearing fast on Vavasour's face while the other was
speaking, and the sun broke out, suddenly, in a kind, pleasant smile.
Probably more than one feeling was busy within him then, which it would
have been hard to separate or analyse. The father's heart swelled with
pride and love as he heard of this last crowning triumph of a beauty,
that, from childhood upwards, he had held to be peerless. Indeed, he was
absurdly fond of Helen, and had spoiled her so consistently, that no one
could understand why the _demoiselle_ (who certainly _had_ a will of her
own) was not more imperious and wayward. Besides this, the Squire's
strong natural sense of humour was gratified. It amused him unspeakably
to see his calm, impassible nephew for once so embarrassed as actually
to have been betrayed into blushing. More than all, gay memories of his
own youth and manhood came trooping up fast, some faint and distant,
some so near and brightly-coloured, that they almost seemed
tangible--vanishing and reappearing capriciously, as one fair vision
chased another from light into shade, like elves holding revel under a
midsummer moon.
True, the days of his gipsyhood were past and gone; but the spirit of
the Zingaro had tarried with Vavasour longer than with most men, if
indeed it was even yet extinct. He could not help owning that, if the
same temptation had assailed himself at the same age, he would have
yielded quite as easily as Wyverne had done that day, with perhaps
rather less of prudent scruple, and with more utter contempt of
consequences. Though he had seldom given grounds to Lady Mildred for
grave accusation, or even suspicion, gayer gallant never breathed since
Sir Gawaine died. A chivalrous delicacy and high sense of honour had
borne him (and others) scathless through many fiery trials; yet--not so
long ago--hearts had quivered at the sound of his musical voice, like
reeds shaken by the wind. Few men had achieved more conquests with less
loss to victor and vanquished; for he was satisfied with the surrender
of a beleaguered city without giving it up to pillage. Flesh is weak, we
know; it would be rash to assert, that in his hot youth, Hubert Vavasour
had never regretted a lost opportunity; but perhaps he did not sleep
less soundly now, because of all the lost souls who, on either side of
the grave, live in torment, not one could lay its ruin at his door. Two
or three reputations slightly compromised are surely not an immoderate
allowance for a _viveur_ of five-and thirty years' standing, and need
scarcely entail indulgence in poppies or mandragora. I think it speaks
well for the presiding judge if, when a young offender is brought up
before the Council of the Elders, those ancient memories stand forth as
witnesses for the defence.
So the Squire's tone was cheery and hearty as ever, when he replied to
Alan's rather unsatisfactory explanation, and there was a laugh in his
eyes.
"It must have been a terrible temptation, for the mere recollection of
it makes you poetical. That period about 'the sunlight on the rippled
hair' would have done credit to a laureate in love. Seriously, my dear
boy, I'm not angry with you; and I don't feel inclined to blame you
much. I only meant that if you had spoken first to me, you would have
heard one or two things not pleasant to hear, which _must_ be told you
now, and which had better have been said earlier."
"Uncle Hubert," Wyverne said, gently, "don't worry yourself with going
through all the objections which make the affair impracticable. I know
them so well. It is easy to give up hopes that one never had any right
to cherish. Of course it is clear what you and Aunt Mildred ought to
say. See, I accept your decision beforehand. I promise you that I won't
murmur at it, even to myself, and I shall not like any one of you a bit
the worse. It was written that Ellen should be my first serious love,
and my last too, I fancy. _Kismet_--it is my fate; but that is no reason
why _hers_ should be bound up with it."
The ruffle of brief emotion had passed away from his quiet face, and it
had settled into its wonted calmness; though at that instant the
happiness of two lives was swaying in the balance, it betrayed no
disquietude by the shadow of a sign.
Hubert Vavasour rose and laid his hand upon the speaker's shoulder.
There was nothing of mirth left now in the expression of his features;
all their grand outline was softened in a solemn tenderness, and his
strong voice was low and tremulous as a woman's.
"I have not deserved to be so misunderstood, and--by you, Alan, you are
my only sister's son, and I have loved you all your life long like my
own. You were too young when your mother died to remember how I mourned
her. You never knew either that, when I said good bye to her, after the
last Sacrament, I promised her, as plainly as I could speak for tears,
that I would always stand fast by you and Gracie. I wish other promises
were as easy to keep faithfully. Do you suppose that my interest in you
ceased with my guardianship, though my right of interference did? In
spite of everything that has happened, there is no man living to whom I
would give Helen so readily as to yourself. I am not going to trifle
with you. As far as my consent to your marriage can help you, you have
it freely; God's blessing go with it. Now--will you listen patiently
while I tell you of difficulties in the way?"
If a life dearer than his own had depended on Alan Wyverne's saying
anything intelligible at that moment, he could not have saved it by the
utterance of one word; but there was eloquence enough in the long white
fingers, which closed round his uncle's with the gripe of a giant.
The Squire sate down again, leaning his forehead on his hand that shook
ever so little, keeping his face, so, half shaded. He was a bad
dissembler, and the effort to speak cheerfully was painfully apparent.
"Alan, have you any idea how the account stands between the
world--taking it as a commercial world--and the Vavasours of Dene? I
don't see how you should have; for, besides your aunt, your cousin Max,
and myself, not half a dozen people, I believe and hope, know the real
state of affairs. There is no bankruptcy court for us, or I should have
been in it years ago. There were very, very heavy incumbrances on the
property when I came into it, and--see,--I dare not look you in the
face--they are nearly doubled now. I can give no account of my
stewardship; but I suppose play is about the only extravagance I have
not indulged in; and 'my lady'--mind I don't blame her--is not a much
better economist. I wonder our family has lasted so long. It has never
produced a clever _financier_, I need hardly say; but, more than that,
not one Vavasour for the last seven generations has had the common sense
or courage to look his difficulties in the face, and retrench
accordingly. Unluckily, rolling debts are not like rolling stones; they
_do_ increase in volume, diabolically. Well, it's no use beating about
the bush or making half confessions. Here is the truth in six words: a
quarter of a million would hardly clear us. They said I gave up the
hounds because I had got too heavy to ride up to them; perhaps you will
guess if _that_ was the real reason. It was more as a sop to keep my
conscience quiet than anything else though; for L3,000 a year saved only
keeps a little interest down, and leaves the principal as big and black
as ever. When Max came of age, it was absolutely necessary to make some
arrangement. We cut off the entail of all property, sold some outlying
farms, and replaced the old mortgages by new ones on rather better
terms. But--we raised more money. Max owed seven or eight thousand, and
I wanted nearly as much to go on with. He behaved very well about it,
only binding me down by one stipulation--that I should cut no timber;
for it was suggested then that L30,000 worth might be felled and
scarcely missed. He had a fancy, that whether Dene stayed with us or
passed away to others, it should keep its green wreath unshorn. It looks
as if there were some sympathetic link between our fortunes and our
forests--we have cherished and spared them so for centuries: if any
White Lady (like her of Avenel) watches over our house, I am very sure
she is a Dryad. Alan, the worst is still to tell."
He paused for a minute or so, clearing his throat once or twice
nervously, all to no purpose, for when he spoke again his voice was
strangely husky and uncertain.
"You don't know much of Newmanham? the greatest iron-founder. There is
one Schmidt, a German Jew, whose father was naturalized. They say he is
worth half a million. When a man of the people has made money up to that
mark, he is always mad to invest in land. Only six months ago, I found
out that Schmidt had bought up every shilling of mortgage on this
property, and--and--by G--d, I believe he means to foreclose."
The Squire stopped again, and then broke out into a harsh unnatural
laugh.
"The patriarch knows where to pitch his tent, doesn't he, Alan? His
spies have searched out the length and breadth of the land already, and
I dare say he knows as much about the woods now as I do. His lines will
fall in pleasant places when he has cast out the Hittite. Dene would be
no bad spot to found a family in. Twenty quarterings ought to leave
savour enough about the grey walls to drown somewhat of the Newmanham
_fumier_. Leah has been prolific, they tell me. The picture gallery will
be a nice place for the little Isrealites to disport themselves in in
bad weather, and the Crusaders and Cavaliers will look down benevolently
on 'the young Caucasians all at play.' Perhaps he will offer something
handsome to be allowed to take our name. Faith, he may have it! I don't
see why we should keep that to ourselves when all the rest is gone."
The bitter laugh ended in something like a sob, and the lofty head sank
down lower still. Looking on Wyverne's colourless face, you would not
have guessed that its pallor could deepen so intensely as it did when
any strong emotion possessed him. During the last five minutes it had
grown whiter by several shades.
"It is punishment enough for all my faults and follies," he said, "to be
forced to listen to such words as these, and to feel myself utterly
helpless and useless. Uncle Hubert, I remember, when every one thought
my ruin was complete, you came the first to offer help, and you never
dreamt of taking interest by making me listen to advice or reproaches.
Now I hear of _your_ troubles for the first time, and I find that I have
come in, seasonably to add another grave embarrassment. What a luxury
benevolence must be, when it meets with such a prompt return. If you
knew how I hate myself!"
The elasticity of Vavasour's gallant spirit had quite shaken off by this
time the momentary depression of which he was already heartily ashamed.
He threw back his stately head with a gesture full of haughty grace, as
if about to confront a palpable enemy or physical danger, and his voice
rang out again, bold and musical and clear.
"Don't speak so despondingly, Alan. My weakness has infected you, I
suppose? I don't wonder at it. I am not often so cowardly; indeed it is
the first time I have broken down so, and I think it will be long before
I disgrace myself so again. Yes, you would help me if you could, just as
I would help you. I know you, boy, and the race you come of. _Bon sang
ne peut mentir._ Whatever happens, I shall never repent having given you
Helen. But I want you to see your line clearly; it isn't all open
country before you. Listen. I am certain 'my lady' has some projects in
her head. She thinks her daughter fair enough to be made the pillar and
prop of our family edifice. (Poor child! that slender neck would break
under half such a burden.) Now, if either of the young ones is to be
turned into an Atlas, surely Max ought to take the part. But he is too
proud, or too indolent, or too fond of his comforts, to give himself any
trouble in the matter. Faith, I like him the better for it. I think I
would rather see the old house go to ruin respectably than propped by
Manchester money-bags. _Que diable!_ Each one to his taste. I don't
imagine that your aunt's visions have assumed shape or substance yet.
The coming son-in-law and his millions are still in cloud-land, where I
hope for all our sakes they will remain. For my own part, if Croesus
were to woo and win Helen to-morrow, I don't see how it would help us
much; besides, it is quite probable that he would have gone away
rejected. If you had never spoken, you cannot suppose that I would have
seen her sacrificed. Still I warn you that her ladyship has some ideas
of the sort floating on her diplomatic brain, so you must not be
disappointed if her consent and concurrence are not quite so heartily
given as mine."
"I have a great respect for Aunt Mildred's sagacity," Wyverne answered
gravely; "whatever policy she might adopt I am sure would be founded on
sound principles, and carried out wisely and well. It is very rash to
run counter to any plan of hers, even if it be in embryo; I doubt if one
ought even to hope for success. My dear uncle, every word you say makes
me feel more keenly how wrongly I acted this unlucky afternoon."
The Squire held out his hand again; the strong, honest grasp tingled
through every fibre of the other's frame, bringing hope and
encouragement with it, like a draught of some rare cordial.
"Alan, I have heard of many rash and wild deeds of yours, never of one
that made you unworthy of your blood or mine. It would be rather too
good if _I_ were to cast mere extravagance in your teeth. I wont hear
any more evil auguries or self-reproaches. My word is passed, and I
shall not take it back again till you or Helen ask me to do so. We will
talk more of your prospects another time. As long as I live you will do
well enough; afterwards--we shall see. Thank God, she is the only child
I have to provide for. Don't be downhearted, boy! The Vavasours of Dene
are a tough, tenacious race, and die hard, if all tales are true; we are
not _aux abois_ yet. 'Vast are the resources of futurity,' as some great
and good man observed; perhaps we shall pull through, after all. At any
rate, we will not be tormented before our time. The thing which is most
on my mind at this moment is--who is to tell this afternoon's work to
'my lady?'"
The Squire's bright blue eyes were glittering with suppressed humour as
he said the last words, merrily, as if he had never heard of such things
as troubles or mortgages. Alan could not help smiling at his uncle's
evident eagerness to be spared the responsibility of ambassador.
"I fancy the worst is known to my poor aunt an hour ago. Helen went
straight to the _boudoir_ when we came in; she wished to tell everything
herself, and immediately. It is the best way. Poor child! I hope she has
had half the success that I have met with; one cannot count on such good
fortune, though."
Vavasour's face was radiant with satisfaction, it was an unspeakable
relief to him to hear that the official communication had been made.
"What a brave girl that is!" he said, with profound admiration; "she has
ten times her father's courage. Alan, confess now, you didn't try to be
first--_there_? Well let us pray for light winds, for we may have to
tack more than once before we fetch the haven where we would be. But as
the sailors say, 'we can't tell what the weather will be till we get
outside,' so--_vogue la galere_! Hark! there goes the dinner-gong; go
and dress directly; of all days in the year this is the last on which to
keep her ladyship waiting."