THE GIFTS OF A GREEK.
When Helen came into the cedar drawing-room (the place of assembly
before dinner) she found her father alone. His face was rather
thoughtful and grave, but it brightened as she came quickly to his side,
and nothing but intense love and tenderness remained, when she rested
her clasped hands on his shoulder, and looked up at him with a deepened
rose colour on her cheek, and a question in her great, earnest eyes. If
she had dreaded the meeting, all fear would have vanished even before
the strong, true arm circled her waist, and the kind, honest voice that
had never yet lied to man or woman murmured "God bless you, my own
darling!" Helen felt happier and safer then than when she rose from
receiving her mother's more elaborate caress and benediction.
Nothing, surely, can be more natural or justifiable under such
circumstances than a paternal embrace; therefore there was no particular
reason for those two starting apart, with rather a guilty and
conscience-stricken expression of countenance, when the door opened, and
Lady Mildred glided in with the even noiseless step and languid grace
that all her friends knew so well, and some admired so much. The
appearance of things did not greatly please her, neither did it trouble
her much. She had a high opinion of her own resources, and a very poor
one of the talents against which she meant to contend; so she regarded
the signs of coalition before her with the same contemptuous
indifference that a minister (with a safe majority) would display, when
the opposition threatens a division, or that a consummate
billiard-player would feel, when his antagonist (to whom he gives ten
points under the proper odds) makes a grand but unproductive fluke.
As a rule, unless her adversary was extraordinarily skilful or vicious,
that accomplished duellist preferred _taking_ his fire; so on this
occasion Hubert Vavasour had to speak first. He came to time gallantly,
though rather nervously.
"You have heard what these foolish children have been doing and saying
this afternoon, mamma? I suppose they ought to be scolded or sent to bed
supperless, or otherwise chastised; but I cannot play the stern father,
and you don't look much like Mother Hubbard. _We_ were foolish and
childish once, Mildred; surely you remember?"
If his own life or fortunes had been at stake, there would not have been
half such pitiful pleading in his eyes and his tone.
Lady Mildred's memory was unusually retentive, but it did not accuse her
of any such weakness. Her imagination must have been tasked before she
could have pleaded guilty; nevertheless she called up a little conscious
look with admirable success, and smiled with infinite sweetness. Perhaps
there was the faintest sarcastic inflexion in the first few words of her
reply, but it needed a sharper ear to detect it than either her husband
or daughter owned.
"Dear Hubert, you are growing romantic yourself again, or you would
scarcely call Alan a child. If he is one he is very wise for his years.
But on the principle of love levelling everything, I suppose all ages
are the same when people forget to be prudent. Of course it was a great
surprise to me. I can hardly realize it yet; but--has not Helen told
you? I _do_ approve more than I ought to do, and I hope and pray that
good may come of it to both of them. I love Alan nearly as well as I do
my own Helen, and she and you know how dearly that is."
She wound her arm round her daughter's waist as she spoke, and drew her
close till the two soft cheeks met. It was the prettiest _pose_ you
can fancy--nothing theatrical or affected about it--enough of
tender _abandon_ to satisfy the most fastidious critic of
attitudes--beautifully maternal without being "gushingly" demonstrative;
but not a hair in "my lady's" careful braids was ruffled, nor a fold in
her perfect dress disarranged. The embrace was still in progress, when
the door opened again and Alan Wyverne joined them, only preceding by a
few seconds the announcement of dinner. It is just possible that the
caress might have ended more abruptly, if one ear in the cedar
drawing-room had not been quick enough to distinguish his footsteps from
that of the Chief Butler--a portly man, with a grand and goodly
presence, in his gait sedate and solemn--who ever bore himself with the
decent dignity befitting one long in authority, conscious of virtue, and
weighing seventeen stone.
Nevertheless Lady Mildred's knowledge of her nephew's character made her
aware that it would not answer to try with him the line of strategy
which might succeed with her husband and daughter. It was very unlikely
that he would be taken in by the feint of unconditional surrender. Alan
had not devoted himself to the society of womankind for so many years
without acquiring a certain insight into their charming wiles. It was
very easy to persuade, but wonderfully difficult to delude him. She did
not like him the worse for that; indeed she only spoke the truth when
she said he was one of her chief favourites. Under any other
circumstances she would have grudged neither time nor trouble to serve
him, either by gratifying his wishes or advancing his fortunes, and
perhaps really regretted the stern political necessity which made it an
imperative duty to foil him if possible. Her game now was the
temporising one--to treat, but under protest. She looked up once in
Alan's face as she leant on his arm on their way to the dining-room.
That glance was meant to combine affection with a slight tinge of
reproach, but a gleam of covert amusement in her eyes almost spoilt the
intended effect. Lady Mildred had a strong sense of humour, and, after
the first vexation was over, she could not help laughing at her own
carelessness and want of prevision. The fact was, she believed Wyverne
capable of any amount of flirtation with any creature wearing a kirtle;
but, with regard to serious matrimonial intentions, she had held him
safe as if he had been vowed to celibacy; in default of a better, she
would have allowed him on an emergency to play chaperon to Helen. Lo,
the sheep-dog not only proved faithless to his trust, but was trying to
make off with the flower of the flock, leaving its mistress to
sing--with the "lass of the Cowdenknowes"--
Ere he had taken the lamb he did,
I had lieve he had taken them a'.
They were rather a quiet quartette at dinner. Helen was by no means
sentimental, nor did she think it the least necessary to be nervous,
even under the peculiar circumstances; her colour, perhaps, deepened
occasionally by a shade or two, without any obvious reason, and the long
shadowing lashes swept down over her eyes more frequently than usual, as
if desirous of veiling their extraordinary brilliancy; beyond these,
there were no outward and visible signs of perturbation, past or
present; her accomplice's face was a study for its perfect innocence and
calmness. Nevertheless, neither was quite equal to the effort of
discussing utterly uninteresting subjects quite unconcernedly; both had
a good deal to think of, and _one_ had a good deal to prepare for.
Hubert Vavasour was cheerful and happy enough, apparently, but he only
talked by fits and starts; so that it devolved on "my lady" to defray
the expenses of the conversation. She performed her part with infinite
tact and delicacy; it was only the fact of her so rarely taking any
trouble of the sort in a strictly domestic circle (she thought it quite
enough, there, to submit to be amused), that caused the effort to be
observable.
It would be just as easy to make a dam-head of sand water-tight, as to
prevent the knowledge of an event very interesting to one of its members
percolating through a large household within a few hours after it has
happened. You may not see the precise spot where the water soaks
through, and you may never discover the precise channel by which the
intelligence is circulating; but there is the fact, and a very provoking
one too, sometimes. It is unnecessary to say that the probable
engagement of the cousins formed the prominent subject of discussion
that night in the steward's room, though of the circumstances of the
_fiancailles_ everybody was profoundly ignorant. Of course, Allan could
not be closeted with his uncle, and Helen with her mother, immediately
after returning from a _tete-a-tete_ ride, without the domestics drawing
their own conclusions--to say nothing of the traces of emotion which,
perhaps, even that haughty demoiselle failed to dissemble from the
quick-witted Pauline.
The Chief Butler (before alluded to) during a quarter of a century's
servitude in the family had acquired, besides a comfortable competence
and considerable corpulence, a certain astrological talent with regard
to the signs of the times showing themselves within his limited horizon.
He was faithful, too, after his fashion; but--loving his master
much--honoured his mistress more, and was ever especially careful to
ascertain how the wind blew from _that_ quarter. He was wont to preside
over his little parliament like Zeus over the Olympian conclave;
hearkening to, encouraging, and, if need were, controlling the opinions
of the minor deities; on such occasions his words were few, but full of
weight and wisdom. He waited now till, after long discussion, the
majority decided that, "it would be a very nice match, and suitable
everyways" (a feminine voice remarking "What did it matter about
fortune? Sir Alan was good enough for a duchess"); then, slowly and
solemnly, said the portly Thunderer:
[Greek: os ephath', hoi d' ara pantes aken egenonto siope
Mython agassamenoi mala gar krateros agoreusen.]
"It may be a match, and it mayn't be a match. I've nothing to say
against Sir Allan, and I wish him well; but there'll be some curious
games up, or I'm mistaken. I doubt my lady ain't altogether pleased
about it--she was so uncommon pleasant at dinner!"
According to one proverb, "No man is a hero to his own valet;" another
tells us, "Bystanders see most of the game." Combining these two, we may
guess how it is that the deepest politicians of private life do not
always succeed in blinding the eyes of their own domestics, however
great an interest they may have in doing so. Perhaps a rash and quite
unfounded contempt for the auricular and mental capacities of a most
intelligent class may sometimes help to throw them off their guard;
though the proudest _lionne_ of our democratic day would hardly care to
emulate the cynicism of that exalted dame (she was nearly allied to the
Great Monarch) who, when discovered in her bath receiving her chocolate
from the hands of a gigantic lacquey, replied to her friend's
remonstrances--"Et tu appelles _ca_ un homme?"
The Squire of Dene was not so clear-sighted as his major-domo: indeed,
that pleasant habit of contemplating things in general through roseate
medium is apt to lead one into errors with regard to objects distant or
near. He thought the aspect of affairs decidedly favourable; so, when
they were alone again, he looked across the table at Wyverne with a
smile full of hope and intelligence--draining at the same time his first
beaker of claret with a gusto not entirely to be ascribed to the flavour
of the rare '34.
"I drink to our castle in Spain," he said; "it seems to me the first
stone has been laid auspiciously."
The other filled a bumper very slowly and drained it deliberately,
before he replied. Surely it was more that curious presentiment of some
counterbalancing evil in the dim background, which so often accompanies
great and unexpected happiness, than any intuitive knowledge of the real
state of things, which prompted the half-sigh--not smothered so soon but
that Vavasour's ear caught it 'flying.'
"It is almost too good to be true, Uncle Hubert. I'm modest about my own
merits; and I think I know pretty well by this time how much luck I
ought to expect. Would it not be wrong to reckon on winning such a prize
as that, without some trouble, and toil, and anxiety? I confess I don't
like these very 'gay' mornings; the clouds are strangely apt to gather
before noon, and one often gets drenched before sunset."
During the short interval that had elapsed since the first confidence
was made, the Squire had signed in his own mind a treaty with his
nephew, offensive and defensive; he had identified himself so thoroughly
with the latter's interests, that it provoked him a good deal now to
meet with something like despondency; he had counted on an exhilaration
at least equal to his own.
"Your poetical vein fails you, Alan; you are scarcely so happy in your
similes as you were three hours ago. That's rather a threadbare one, and
certainly not worth of the occasion; it isn't true, either, as you would
find if your habits were more matutinal. I don't think you know much
about your own merits, or about 'my lady's' intentions; perhaps you do
injustice to both. But--simply to gratify you--we will suppose the
worst; suppose that she is hostile, and only hiding her game. Well, I
believe there is such a thing as paternal authority, though mine has
been in abeyance ever since Max was born: I think I should be equal to
exercising it if we came to extremities. When all one's other
possessions are encumbered, there would be a certain satisfaction in
disposing of a daughter. I'm not aware that any one holds a mortgage on
Helen."
Now Hubert Vavasour spoke in perfect sincerity and singleness of heart,
when he thus purposed to assert a suzerainty quite as unreal as the
kingdom of Jerusalem or the bishopric of Westminster. His chances of
success in such a reactionary movement would have been about equal to
those of a modern French proprietor who, at the marriage of one of his
tenants, should attempt to revive those curious seignorial rights, used
or abused four centuries ago by Giles de Retz and his compeers. Alan
could not but admire the audacity of the resolve; but his sense of the
absurd was touched when he reflected on the utter impossibility of its
accomplishment. Perhaps this last feeling helped to dispel the gloom
which had gathered on his face; at any rate, his smile was gay enough
now to satisfy his sanguine confederate.
"I should like to know the man, Uncle Hubert," he said, "who would
persist in being suspicious or misanthropical after talking to you for
ten minutes. _I_ am not such a natural curiosity. 'Sufficient for the
day is the evil thereof:' that's the only sound and remunerative
philosophy, after all. There has been nothing but good in this day; so I
don't know what ungracious or ungrateful devil possessed me: but you
have fairly exorcised him. Let us do as our fathers did--burn our
galleys, advance our gonfalon, and cry--'_Dex nous aide!_'"
"That's more like the old form," Vavasour replied; "say no more about it
now. The claret stands with you; don't linger over it to-night, I fancy
we are waited for."
Wyverne's first glance on entering the drawing-room searched for his
cousin; he was rather relieved than otherwise at not finding her there;
he felt that the difficulties of the next half hour were best
encountered alone. Lady Mildred was reclining on her usual sofa; close
to it, and just within easy ear-shot of the cushion supporting her head,
was placed a very low and luxurious arm-chair. "My lady" was ever
considerate as to the personal comfort of her victims, and took especial
care that they should not be galled by the ropes that bound them to the
stake; acting, I suppose, on the same benevolent principle which prompts
the Spaniard to deny nothing to those who must die by the garotte on the
morrow.
The proximity was ominous, and far too significant to be unintentional.
The instant Alan saw that chair, he guessed for what use it was
destined, not without a slight apprehensive thrill. Just so may some
forlorn Scottish damsel of the last century, whose flaxen locks snood
might never braid again, have shivered in the cold white penance-sheet,
recognizing the awful Stool on which she was to "dree her doom."
Nevertheless, he accepted the position very gallantly and gracefully,
sinking down easily into the _causeuse_ and nestling comfortably into
its cushions, without any affectation of eagerness or betrayal of
reluctance. As he took up Lady Mildred's little soft hand and kissed it,
his natural caressing manner was tempered by a shade of old-fashioned
courtesy; and even that calm _intrigante_ for the moment was not exempt
from the influence of a dangerous fascination. Do not, however, do her
the injustice to suppose that she once relented in her set purpose, or
faltered one whit in its execution.
It would savour somewhat of repetition, and simply bore you, if all the
conversation that ensued were given in detail. "My lady's" line was
perfect frankness and candour. She alluded pleasantly to the great
matrimonial fortunes that she had projected for Helen, and
confessed--pleasantly, too--her conviction that the alliance now
contemplated was perfectly imprudent, and in a worldly point of view
altogether undesirable; she dilated rather more at length on the
affection for Alan, indulgence to Helen, &c. &c., which induced the
parents to overlook all such objections, and to give their conditional
consent; but even on this point she was not oratorical or prosy.
Nevertheless her hearer was quite aware that there was some more serious
obstacle kept in the background; all these preliminary observations were
so many shots to try the distance; the battery did not take him by
surprise when it opened in earnest.
"Alan, I know it must bore you, now that Helen has come down stairs, to
be obliged to listen to _Madame Mere_; it is very good of you not to
show it: be patient a little longer. I must make you look at one side of
the question that has escaped you, so far, I think; it is so important
to the happiness of both of you that you should see your way clearly. I
am not much afraid of your getting into difficulties again, your lesson
has been sharp enough to cure you of extravagance; but there are
embarrassments worse than any financial ones, which are only tiresome
and annoying, after all. My dear nephew--has it occurred to you yet,
that in changing your _vie de garcon_, you will have to economize in
more ways than one, and wear some chains, though they may be light and
silken?"
"I've hardly had time to realize the position, Aunt Mildred," Wyverne
answered, "but I am conscious of a perfect flower-show of good
resolutions, budding and blossoming already. While I was dressing, I was
considering how I could best get rid of my hunters, and I have almost
decided where to place them."
"You are too eager in beginning self-denial," Lady Mildred said;
"perhaps it will not be necessary to part with your horses _this_
season. But you must settle your future establishment with Helen and
your uncle. _I_ was thinking of some other favourite pursuits of
yours--of handsomer and more dangerous creatures than Red Lancer--though
I suppose he is a picture of a horse, and it always makes me shiver to
see him rear. Yon may be angry with me, and call me prudish or
puritanical if you like; but I _must_ say it. Alan--do you know that I
consider you the most confirmed and incorrigible flirt of my
acquaintance?"
To apply to the speaker either of the two epithets she deprecated would
have been simply impossible. Her bright eyes sparkled with a malicious
amusement and gay triumph, as she marked the effect of her words in the
quaint look of contrition mingled with perplexity which overspread
Wyverne's face--usually so imperturbable. For once in his life, he felt
fairly at a loss for a reply. Those general accusations are remarkably
hard to meet, even when one is conscious of innocence; but woe to the
respondent, if the faintest shadow of self-conviction hangs over his
guilty head! The adverse advocate sees the weak point in a moment, and
bears down on his victim with the full flood of indignant eloquence,
exulting in a verdict already secured.
On this occasion, however, Lady Mildred did not seem inclined to press
her advantage; she interrupted Alan's attempt at a disclaimer, before
his embarrassment could become painful.
"Don't look so dreadfully penitent: you make me laugh when I am quite
determined to be grave. I did not mean to impute to you any dark
criminality. Up to the present time, perhaps, that general devotion has
been rather useful in keeping you out of serious scrapes: you certainly
have been singularly fortunate in that way--or wonderfully discreet.
Besides, I don't mean to lecture you: it is a peculiarity in Helen's
character, not in yours, that makes me give you this warning. I suppose
you have guessed that she is capable of strong attachments; but you have
no idea how exacting she is of undivided love in return. She has only
had friendships (and very few of these) to deal with so far: but I
remember her fretting for days, because her favourite governess would
not give up corresponding with some school friend whom Helen had never
seen, but had magnified into a rival. It is no use disguising the truth
from you, when I cannot disguise it from myself, much as I love my pet.
_You_ would not like her to be faultless? Helen is not captious or
suspicious; but she is absurdly jealous, sometimes. I cannot conceive
how she learnt to be so: she certainly did not inherit the weakness
from her father or me. I believe she would begin to hate a dog or a
horse, if you made it too great a favourite; and words or looks of
yours--perhaps quite innocent and meaningless--might make her more
miserable than I can bear to think of. Dear Alan, it tires me more to
sermonize, than it bores you to be forced to listen; but what would you
have? If a mother has any duties at all, it must be one of them to speak
when danger threatens her own child and another whom she loves almost as
dearly."
A peculiarity of "my lady's" _parables_ was, that not only were they
always plausible and probable, but they generally contained an element
of truth and a slight foundation of fact: it made the deception more
dangerous, because more difficult to detect. Really scientific coiners
do not grudge a certain expense of pure silver to mix with the base
metal: it adds so much sharpness to the outline and clearness to the
ring.
So, though Alan had never till this moment heard of that defect in his
fair cousin's character, he was by no means inclined to disbelieve
entirely in its existence now; simply because he knew his aunt too well
to suppose that she would venture upon an utter fiction which would
refute itself in a very short time. Most men would be somewhat
disquieted by the revelation of a phase in their _fiancee's_ disposition
which is likely to interfere materially with domestic comfort and peace:
but it troubled Wyverne wonderfully little. Whatever her mother might
say or insinuate, he could not believe that the proud, beautiful eyes
would ever condescend to show signs of unworthy or vulgar passions. He
knew that Helen was too frank and impetuous to keep a suspicion
concealed for half-an-hour; and he felt that he could rely on himself
for not giving her serious cause of uneasiness. It was rather a
conviction that he was losing ground every moment, slowly but surely, as
his adversary's game developed itself, that made his face very grave as
he answered, though he was calm and self-possessed again as ever--
"You don't expect me to be so conceited as to allow all you implicate,
Aunt Mildred? Still, I fear I cannot deny that I have found many of your
sex very charming, and that I have not always refrained from confiding
the fact to the parties most interested in hearing it. (I rather pride
myself on that circumlocution!) But, you know, I was never bound over to
keep the peace till now. I think I can give fair securities, though not
very substantial ones. Remember, I pledge all my hopes of happiness--of
happiness greater than I ever dreamt would fall in my way. I don't think
I should risk them lightly. I cannot tell _when_ I began to love Helen;
but I know that for months past the temptation has been growing stronger
which vanquished me to-day: for months past it has made me proud to
compare her with all the women I have ever admired (you say, Aunt
Mildred, their name is legion), and to feel that no one could stand the
comparison for an instant. _That_ ought to be a safeguard, surely,
against other enchantments? I can hardly fancy Helen playing Zara; yet,
if the whim should seize her, I think it would be easy to prove to her
that the part did not suit her at all. It is not my way to be prodigal
of professions; but I am certain of one thing; there is no imaginable
friendship or acquaintance--past, present, or to come--that I would not
give up to spare that child ten minutes' unhappiness; and I should not
call it a sacrifice. You are right to be distrustful when so much is at
stake; but, on my faith and honour, _I_ have no fears."
The clear dark eyes were fastened on Lady Mildred's inscrutable face
very earnestly, as if beseeching that at least truth might be answered
by truth. The trained glance of that great diplomatist did not care to
meet the challenge; it must needs have quailed. I would not affirm that
a momentary compunction did not assail her just then, while she did
justice, in thought, to the kind, generous nature of the man she had
determined to betray. It behoves the historian to be impartial, and not
to attribute an ideal perfection even to his pet politician. The Prince
of Benevento himself might be pardoned for indulging in a brief
self-reproach, after maligning his own daughter and lying to her
accepted lover, within the same half-hour. When Lady Mildred spoke
again, her voice, always low and musical, was unusually gentle and
subdued.
"I am not so unkind or unjust as you seem to think, Alan. I do believe
thoroughly in your sincerity now, and I am sure you will try your very
utmost at all times to make Helen happy. I don't mean to say that it
will be necessary to set a watch on your lips, and measure out the
common attentions of civilized life by the phrase: the constraint would
be too absurdly evident, if _you_ were to become formal. Nor can I
suggest, at this moment, any one acquaintance that it would be better
you should sacrifice: your own good sense will tell you when and where
to be careful and guarded. But I do wish that both you and Helen should
try how far you are suited to each other, before you take the one step
in life which cannot be recalled. Remember how very young she is. You
cannot call me unreasonable if I ask one year's delay before we fix the
day for your marriage?"
It came at last--that cunning thrust under the guard, impossible to
evade, difficult to parry, which the fair gladiator had been meditating
from the very outset of her graceful sword-play: all the feints of
"breaking ground" had no end or object but this. At those last words
Wyverne set his lips slightly, and drew himself together with the
involuntary movement which is--_not_ shrinking, just as a fencer might
do touched sharply in mid chest by his opponent's foil. Twelve
months--not a long delay, surely--scarcely more than would be required
to complete the settlements, _trousseaux_, and other preliminaries for
some matches that we wot of, especially if a great house is to be swept
and garnished, before the bride is brought home. Alan might have thought
about some such preparations years ago; now--he only thought that,
whatever forces Lady Mildred might have in reserve would all be
marshalled in their place before half the probationary year had passed.
But her position was perfectly safe and unassailable. When a prospective
mother-in-law consents to ignore a suitor's social and financial
disadvantages, he cannot well quarrel with her for endeavouring to make
sure that the damsel's affections are not morally misplaced: of course
her domestic prospects ought to be bright, in proportion as her worldly
ones are gloomy. The aspirant may have a private surmise, amounting
almost to a certainty, that he is being unfairly dealt with. He may
murmur to himself that, if he had been a marquis or a millionaire, the
maternal scruples would have been mute; but it would show sad lack of
wisdom to express such feelings aloud. If the case were to come on for
trial, no judge or jury in England would give the plaintiff a verdict.
He would not only lose his cause, but get "committed for contempt of
court," and incur all sorts of vague pains and penalties, besides being
held up as a phenomenon of ingratitude, and a warning to his fellows for
the remainder of his natural life. Most men who come to grief under such
circumstances will find their position disagreeable enough, even without
the perpetual punishment of the pillory.
Yes, reason, if not right, was on "my lady's" side; and she was
perfectly aware of her advantage; for her eyes met Wyverne's steadily
enough now as she waited for his reply.
The latter had reckoned so fully on meeting with opposition somewhere in
this quarter, that it is doubtful if he was exactly disappointed at the
turn the conversation had lately taken; though perhaps, as a matter of
taste, he would have preferred more overt antagonism and obstacles more
tangible to grapple with. At any rate, there was not a trace of
sullenness or vexation in his manner when he spoke.
"I should have thought it unreasonable if you had made my probation as
long as Jacob's, Aunt Mildred; simply because the span of life is
greatly contracted since the patriarchal times, and everything ought to
go by comparison. It would not so much matter to Helen; for, as you
say, she _is_ very young: she will only be in the prime of her beauty
when my hair is grey. But I confess, I should like to reap the reward of
patience before I pass middle-age. Men seem to appreciate so few things
_then_, that I doubt if one would even enjoy domestic happiness
thoroughly. No; I don't think you at all exacting or over-cautious; and
I will bide my time with a tranquillity that shall be edifying. I never
found a year very long yet, and I shall have so much to do and to think
of during the present one that I shall have no time to be discontented."
Lady Mildred smiled on the speaker sweetly and gratefully, but the keen,
anxious, _business-like_ look still lingered in her eyes.
"Thank you so very much, dear Alan," she whispered, "you have behaved
perfectly throughout, just as I expected you would" (she spoke the
truth, there). "You will promise me, then, that the day of your marriage
shall not be actually fixed till the year has past? You know your uncle
is rather impetuous, and not very prudent; I should not wonder if he
were to try to precipitate matters, and that would involve discussions.
Now I never could bear discussions, even when my nerves were stronger
than they are; I think they grow worse every day. If _you_ promise, I
shall have nothing of this sort to fear. You will not refuse me this,
because it looks like a selfish request?"
I have the pleasure of knowing very slightly a Companion of the Order of
Valour, who carried the colours of his regiment at the Alma--it was his
"baptism of fire." At the most critical moment of the day, when the
troops were struggling desperately up "the terrible hill side," somewhat
disordered by the vineyards and broken ground; when the Guards were
reeling and staggering under the deadly hail that beat right in their
faces; the man I speak of turned to the comrade nearest to him and
remarked:
"Do you suppose they _always_ shoot as fast as this, Charley? I dare say
it's the correct thing, though."
They say his manner was as listless and unconcerned as usual, with just
a shade of diffidence and doubt, as if he had been consulting a
diplomatic friend on some point of etiquette at a foreign court. I have
the happiness of knowing very well an officer in the sister service who
has received a medal scarcely less glorious, for rescuing a sailor from
drowning in the Indian Sea. They had had a continuance of bad weather,
and worse was coming up all round; great lead-coloured billows weltered
and heaved under the lee--foam-wreaths breaking here and there, to show
where the strong ship had cloven a path through the sullen surges; there
was the chance, too, of encountering one of two sharks which had been
haunting them for days; but I have heard that on Cis Hazelwood's face
when he went over the bulwarks, there was the same expression of cheery
confidence as it might have worn when he was diving for eggs at The
Weirs.
Now it is fair to presume, that both these men were endowed with courage
and coolness to an exceptional degree; but I very much doubt if, in
perfect exemption from moral and physical fear, and in contempt for
danger either in this world or the next (if the said peril stood in her
path), Lady Mildred might not have matched the pair. When the Vavasours
were travelling in Wales, soon after their marriage, something broke as
they were descending a long steep hill, and the horses bolted; it was a
very close question between life and death, till they were stopped by a
couple of quarrymen just at the spot where the road turned sharp to the
left over a high narrow archway; no carriage going that pace could have
weathered that corner, and the fall was thirty feet clear. The poor
Welshmen certainly earned their rich reward, for they both went down,
and were much bruised in the struggle, and one got up with a broken
collar-bone. When the horses first broke away, "my lady" deigned to lay
aside the book she was reading, but showed no other sign of interest in
the proceedings, far less of discomposure. The Squire was once asked
"how his wife behaved after it was all over?" (that is generally
considered the most trying time). "She looked," was the answer,
"precisely as if she had expected the episode all along; as if it had
formed part of the programme of our wedding tour that the horses should
bolt on that particular hill, and be stopped at that very critical spot
by those identical quarrymen. It struck me that she praised and
compassionated the poor fellow that was hurt, exactly as one might an
acrobat who had met with an accident while performing for our
amusement."
You may judge from this fact, whether "my lady's" nerves were as weak
and sensitive as she was pleased to represent them. But with all her
wile and wariness, she was a thorough woman at heart; and, as such, was
not disposed to let a chance slip of turning to account the apparent
bodily fragility which dissembled a very good constitution. Seldom,
indeed, does maid or matron allow any small capital of the sort to lie
long idle or profitless. Throughout all ages, despots have been found,
anxious to drape their acts of oppression with a veil of reason and
legality just dense enough for decency. In the present case, Lady
Mildred brought forward a convenient and colourable pretext for a fresh
exaction; she was rather indifferent as to its being received with
implicit credit, for she knew that Alan was too kindly and courteous to
contradict her.
As it happened, Wyverne was not deceived for a moment; but as the really
important points of the hollow treaty were already decided, he did not
think it worth while to hesitate over minor details.
"You shall have all you ask without reservation," he said, "and 'thereto
I plight my troth.'"
So they locked hands there--faith and falsehood--truth and
treachery--the one, harbouring no thought that was not honest and
tender; the other, consistent to the last in her dark, pitiless
scheming. Yet the woman's fingers were most cordial in their pressure,
and they never shrank or trembled.
It is pleasant to read of the retribution that descended on Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, or Sir Aldinger; but poetical justice does not always
assert itself so conveniently as in the lists at Templestowe. I wonder
how often in the ordeal of battle, honour has gone down before
dishonour, to the mocking echo of the herald's cry--"God defend the
right!"
Lady Mildred lay back on her sofa with a long sigh of weariness which
was not altogether feigned.
"I will not keep you another instant," she whispered. "Go to Helen, and
be as happy as you like; you have earned that reward."
Miss Vavasour had been sitting all this while close to her father's
side. The chair she had chosen was so low that her head could rest
against his hand as it lay on the arm of the vast _fauteuil_. They had
been very quiet, those two, while the conference was proceeding,
scarcely venturing to glance twice or thrice furtively in the direction
of the dread divan; but their whispered confidences were pleasant
enough, if one might judge from Helen's beautiful blushes and the
Squire's musical laugh breaking in at intervals, discreetly modulated
and subdued. Both gazed anxiously in Alan's face as he drew near, trying
to augur from its expression how he had sped. It told no tales; for his
brow was smooth and his smile serene, as if there were no such things in
this world of ours as doubt, or distrust, or despondency. If he could
not hope to clear away all troublesome thorns from the path of the fair
girl who had promised that day to trust him, he could at least spare her
the pains of anticipation; for her sake as well as his own he was
determined to make the most of every hour of sunshine. Without going
into particulars then, he succeeded in leaving an impression that Lady
Mildred had shown herself more favourable to their wishes than could
have been hoped for. Helen went to rest on that eventful night, when
childhood ended and her womanhood began, in a flutter of happiness which
lasted through her dreams.
"While we live let us live." How is this agreeable maxim to be carried
out, if we are always looking forward into the Dark? There is little
wisdom in the desperate philosophy which teaches men "to eat and drink
for to-morrow they die;" but surely there is reason in taking, while we
may, such moderate refreshment as may brace us for the perils and
labours that the dawning may bring. Do you suppose that Teucer's galleys
clove less swiftly through the Egean because their crews had feasted
high in Salamis on the eve of exile? I fancy those grim old sea-dogs at
their last home revels--cutting deeper into the mighty chines, and
dipping their grizzled beards into the black wine with a keener zest,
while the cheery voice, clear and sonorous as if its owner had never
known defeat or disaster, rings out
----O fortes pejoraque passi
Mecum saepe viri, nunc vino pellite curas:
Cras ingens iterabimus aequor.
The torches flare and swirl in the wind that is rising gustily; there is
a dull sullen booming outside familiar to the wanderers, for they have
heard it ere this when every sinew was strained to keep them clear of
breakers on their lee; they were met by dark lowering faces when they
sailed in through the harbor-mouth; the populace--taught to call them
traitors by the savage old childless king--is now raving for their
blood. What matters it all? They catch their leader's eye as he stands
up in the midst, erect and dauntless, with the great gold crater in his
gripe, and they laugh out loud in defiance; remembering storms they have
weathered and foes they have tamed, and perils compared to which these
are but child's play. Would their prospects have looked better if they
had sat down, with folded hands and covered heads, to complain of
mortals and immortals, and miserably to make their moan? Truly I think
not. Now--when they cast off their moorings to-morrow--in despite of
envious Pallas, we need not fear to wish the exiles "good speed."