THE TWO PENDRAGONS.
The red dragon and the white,
Hard together gan they smite,
With mouth, paw, and tail,
Between hem was full hard batail.
The History of Merlin.
SPRING was on the borders of summer, when one afternoon, as Clara sat
writing a note in the drawing-room, she heard a tap at the door of the
little sitting-room, and springing to open it, she beheld a welcome
sight.
'Louis! How glad I am! Where do you come from?'
'Last from the station,' said Louis.
'What makes you knock at that door, now the drawing-room is alive?'
'I could not venture on an unceremonious invasion of Mrs. James Frost's
territory.'
'You'll find no distinction of territory here,' laughed Clara. 'It was
a fiction that we were to live in separate rooms, like naughty
children. Does not the drawing-room look nice?'
'As much improved as the inhabitant. Where are the other natives?'
'Granny and Isabel are walking, and will end by picking up Jem coming
out of school. We used to wait for him so often, that at last he said
we should be laughed at, so there's a law against it which no one dares
to transgress but granny.'
'So I conclude that you are a happy family.'
'After all, it was worth spending two years at school to enjoy properly
the having it over.'
'I give Jem credit for having secured a first-rate governess for you.'
'That she is! Why, with her I really do like reading and drawing all
the morning! I almost believe that some day I shall wake up and find
myself an accomplished young lady! And, Louis, have you read the last
Western Magazine?'
'I have read very little for sport lately.'
'Then I must tell you. Jem was bemoaning himself about having nothing
to give to the new Blind Asylum, and the next evening Isabel brought
out the prettiest little manuscript book, tied with blue ribbon, and
told him to do as he pleased with it. It was a charming account of her
expedition to the Hebrides, written out for her sisters, without a
notion of anything further; but Jem sent it to this Magazine, and it is
accepted, and the first part is out. She will have quite a sum for it,
and all is to go to the Blind Asylum!'
'Capital!--Let me take it home to night, Clara, and I will stand an
examination on it to-morrow.'
'We ask her whether she projects a sketch of the Paris Revolution,'
said Clara, laughing. 'She has a famous heap of manuscripts in her
desk, and one long story about a Sir Roland, who had his name before
she knew Jem, but it is all unfinished, she tore out a great many
pages, and has to make a new finish; and I am afraid the poor knight is
going to die of a mortal wound at his lady's feet. Isabel likes sad
things best;--but oh! here they come, and I'm talking dreadful treason.'
Three more joyous-looking people could hardly have been found than
those who entered the room, welcoming Louis with delight, and asking
what good wind had brought him.
'Partly that Inglewood is crying out for the master's eye,' said Louis;
'and partly that my father fancied I looked fagged, and kindly let me
run down for a holiday.'
'I am of his mind,' said Mrs. Frost, tenderly; 'there is an M.P.
expression gathering on your brows, Louis.'
'For you to dispel, Aunt Kitty. I told him you were the best
dissipation, and Virginia was of the same mind. Isabel, she says
Dynevor Terrace is the only place she ever wishes to see again.'
'Do you often see Virginia?' asked Isabel.
'Not unless I go early, and beg for her; and then she generally has
some master. That last onset of accomplishments is serious!'
'Yes,' said Isabel, 'the sense of leisure and tranquillity here is
marvellous!'
'Not leisure in the sense of idleness,' said James.
'No,' said Isabel; 'but formerly idle requirements thronged my time,
and for nothing worth doing could I find leisure.'
'There is nothing more exacting than idle requirements,' said James.
'Pray is Clara accepting that invitation? Come to dinner, Louis, and
give us an excuse.'
'No, he won't,' said Mrs. Frost, 'he will take my side. These young
people want to cast off all their neighbours.'
'Now, granny,' exclaimed James, 'have we not dutifully dined all round?
Did not Isabel conduct Clara to that ball? Is it not hard to reproach
us with sighing at an evening immolated at the shrine of the
Richardsons?'
'Well, my dears, you must judge.'
'I am ready to do whatever you think right; I leave you to settle it,'
said Isabel, moving out of the room, that Louis might be free for a
more intimate conversation.
'Now,' cried James, 'is it in the nature of things that she should live
in such society as Mrs. Walby's and Mrs. Richardson's? People who call
her Mrs. James!'
'Such a queen as she looks among them!' said Clara.
'One comfort is, they don't like that,' said James. 'Even Mrs. Calcott
is not flattered by her precedence. I hope we shall soon be dropped
out of their parties. As long as I do my duty by their sons, what
right have they to impose the penance of their society on my wife? All
the irksomeness of what she has left, and none of the compensations!'
'Blissful solitude' said Louis, 'thereto I leave you.'
'You are not going yet! You mean to dine here?' was the cry.
'My dear friends,' he said, holding up his hands, 'if you only knew how
I long to have no one to speak to!'
'You crying out for silence!' exclaimed James.
'I am panting for what I have not had these five months--space for my
thoughts to turn round.'
'Surely you are at liberty to form your own habits!' said James.
'I am told so whenever my father sees me receive a note,' said Louis,
wearily; 'but I see that, habituated as he is to living alone, he is
never really at ease unless I am in the way; so I make our hours agree
as far as our respective treadmills permit; and though we do not speak
much, I can never think in company.'
'Don't you have your rides to yourself?'
'Why, no. My father will never ride enough to do him good, unless he
wants to do me good. People are all surprised to see him looking so
well; the country lanes make him quite blooming.'
'But not you, my poor boy,' said his aunt; 'I am afraid it is a sad
strain.'
'There now, Aunt Kitty, I am gone. I must have the pleasure of looking
natural sometimes, without causing any vituperation of any one beyond
seas.'
'You shall look just as you please if you will only stay. We are just
going to dinner.'
'Thank you, let me come to-morrow. I shall be better company when I
have had my sulk out.'
His aunt followed him to the stairs, and he turned to her, saying,
anxiously, 'No letter?' She shook her head. 'It would be barely
possible,' he said, 'but if it would only come while I am at home in
peace!'
'Ah! this is sadly trying!' said she, parting his hair on his brow as
he stood some steps below her, and winning a sweet smile from him.
'All for the best,' he said. 'One thing may mitigate another. That
political whirlpool might suck me in, if I had any heart or hopes for
it. And, on the other hand, it would be very unwholesome to be left to
my own inertness--to be as good for nothing as I feel.'
'My poor dear boy, you are very good about it. I wish you could have
been spared.'
'I did not come to make you sad, Aunt Kitty,' he replied, smiling; 'no;
I get some energy back when I remember that this may be a probation.
Her mother would not have thought me man enough, and that is what I
have to work for. Whether this end well or not, she is the leading
star of my life.' And, with the renewal of spirit with which he had
spoken, he pressed his aunt's hand, and ran down stairs.
When he rode to Northwold, the following afternoon, having spent the
morning in walking over his fields, he overtook a most comfortable
couple--James and Isabel, returning from their holiday stroll, and
Louis, leaving his horse at the inn, and joining them, began to hear
all their school affairs. James had thrown his whole heart into his
work, had been making various reforms, introducing new studies, making
a point of religious instruction, and meditating on a course of
lectures on history, to be given in the evenings, the attendance to be
voluntary, but a prize held out for proficiency. Louis took up the
subject eagerly, and Isabel entered into the discussion with all her
soul, and the grammar-school did indeed seem to be in a way to become
something very superior in tone to anything Northwold had formerly
seen, engrossing as it did all the powers of a man of such ability, in
the full vigour of youth.
Talking earnestly, the trio had reached the Terrace, and James was
unlatching the iron gate, when he interrupted himself in the midst of
detailing his views on modern languages to say, 'No, I have nothing for
you.'
'Sir, I beg your pardon!' was the quick reply from a withered, small,
but not ill-dressed old man, 'I only asked--'
'Let the lady pass,' said James, peremptorily, wishing to save his wife
from annoyance, 'it is of no use, I never look at petitions.'
'Surely he is not a beggar!' said Isabel, as he drew her on.
'You may be easy about him, my dear,' said James. 'He has laid hold of
Louis, who would swallow the whole Spanish legion of impostors. He will
be after us directly with a piteous story.'
Louis was after him, with a face more than half arch fun--'Jem, Jem, it
is your uncle!'
'Nonsense! How can you be so taken in! Don't go and disappoint
granny--I'll settle him.'
'Take care, Jem--it is Oliver, and no mistake! Why, he is as like you
as Pendragon blood can make him! Go and beg his pardon.'
James hastened down stairs, as Louis bounded up--sought Mrs. Frost in
the sitting-rooms, and, without ceremony, rushed up and knocked at the
bed-room door. Jane opened it.
'He is come!' cried Louis--'Oliver is come.'
Old Jane gave a shriek, and ran back wildly, clapping her hands. Her
mistress started forward--'Come!--where?'
'Here!--in the hall with Jem.'
He feared that he had been too precipitate, for she hid her face in her
hands; but it was the intensity of thanksgiving; and though her whole
frame was in a tremor, she flew rather than ran forward, never even
seeing Louis's proffered arm. He had only reached the landing-place,
when beneath he heard the greeting--'Mother, I can take you
home--Cheveleigh is yours.' But to her the words were drowned in her
own breathless cry--'My boy! my boy!' She saw, knew, heard nothing,
save that the son, missed and mourned for thirty-four years, was safe
within her arms, the longing void filled up. She saw not that the
stripling had become a worn and elderly man,--she recked not how he
came. He was Oliver, and she had him again! What was the rest to her?
Those words? They might be out of taste, but Fitzjocelyn guessed that
to speak them at the first meeting had been the vision of Oliver's
life--the object to which he had sacrificed everything. And yet how
chill and unheeded they fell!
Louis could have stood moralizing, but his heart had begun to throb at
the chance that Oliver brought tidings of Mary. He felt himself an
intrusive spectator, and hastened into the drawing-room, when Clara
nearly ran against him, but stood still. 'I beg your pardon, but what
is Isabel telling me? Is it really?'
'Really! Kindred blood signally failed to speak.'
Clara took a turn up and down the room. 'I say, Louis, ought I to go
down?'
'No; leave him and granny to their happiness,' said Louis; and James,
at the same moment running up, threw himself into a chair, with an
emphatic 'There!'
'Dear grandmamma!' said Isabel; 'I hope it is not too much for her.'
James made no answer.
'Are you disappointed in him, dear James?' she continued.
'I could not be disappointed,' he answered, shortly.
'Poor man--he has a poor welcome among you,' said Louis.
'Welcome is not to be bought,' said James. 'I could not stand hearing
him reply to poor granny's heartfelt rapture with his riches and his
Cheveleigh, as if that were all she could prize.'
Steps were mounting the stairs, and the alert, sharp tones of Oliver
were heard--'Married then? Should have waited--done it in style.'
James and Isabel glanced at each other in amused indignation; and Mrs.
Frost entered, tremulous with joy, and her bright hazel eyes lustrous
with tears, as she leant on the arm of her recovered son. He was a
little, spare, shrivelled man, drolly like his nephew, but with all the
youthfulness dried out of him, the freckles multiplied by scores, and
the keen black eyes sunken, sharpened, and surrounded with innumerable
shrewd puckers. The movements were even more brisk, as if time were
money; and in speech, the small change of particles was omitted, and
every word seemed bitten off short at the end; the whole man, in
gesture, manner, and voice, an almost grotesque caricature of all
James's peculiarities.
'Mrs. Roland Dynevor, I presume? said Oliver, as Isabel came forward to
meet him.
'Never so known hitherto,' returned her husband. 'My wife is Mrs.
James Frost, if you please.'
'That is over now,' said Oliver, consequentially; and as his mother
presented to him 'poor Henry's little Clara,' he kissed her
affectionately, saying, 'Well-grown young lady, upon my word! Like her
father--that's right.'
'Here is almost another grandchild,' said Mrs. Frost--'Louis
Fitzjocelyn--not much like the Fitzjocelyn you remember, but a new M.P.
as he was then.'
'Humph!' said Oliver, with a dry sound, apparently expressing, 'So that
is what our Parliament is made of. Father well?' he asked.
'Quite well, thank you, sir.'
Oliver levelled his keen eyes on him, as though noting down
observations, while he was burning for tidings of Mary, yet held back
by reserve and sense of the uncongeniality of the man. His aunt,
however, in the midst of her own joy, marked his restless eye, and put
the question, whether Mary Ponsonby had arrived?
'Ha! you let her go, did you?' said Oliver, turning on Louis. 'I told
her father you'd be no such fool. He was in a proper rage at your
letter, but it would have blown over if you had stuck by her, and he is
worth enough to set you all on your legs.'
Louis could not bring himself to make any answer, and his mother
interrupted by a question as to Dona Rosita.
'Like all the rest. Eyes and feet, that's all. Foolish business! But
what possessed Ormersfield to make such a blunder? I never saw
Ponsonby in such a tantrum, and his are no trifles.'
'It was all the fault of your clerk, Robson,' said James; 'he would not
refute the story.'
'Sharp fellow, Robson,' chuckled Oliver; 'couldn't refute it. No; as
he told me, he knew the way Ponsonby had gone on ever since his wife
went home, and of late he had sent him to Guayaquil, about the
Equatorial Navigation--so he had seen nothing;--and, says he to me, he
had no notion of bringing out poor Miss Ponsonby--did not know whether
her father would thank him; and yet the best of it is, that he pacifies
Ponsonby with talking of difficulty of dealing with preconceived
notions. Knows how to get hold of him. Marriage would never have been
if he had been there, but it was the less damage. Mary would have had
more reason to have turned about, if she had not found him married.'
'But, Oliver,' said his mother, 'I thought this Robson was an honest
man, in whom you had entire confidence!'
'Ha! ha! D'ye think I'd put that in _any_ man? No, no; he knows how
far to go with me. I've plenty of checks on him. Can't get business
done but by a wide-awake chap like that.'
'Is Madison under him?' asked Louis, feeling as if he had been
apprenticing the boy to a chief of banditti.
'The lad you sent out? Ay. Left him up at the mines. Sharp fellow,
but too raw for the office yet.'
'Too scrupulous!' said James, in an undertone, while his uncle was
explaining to his mother that he could not have come away without
leaving Robson to manage his affairs, and Mr. Ponsonby, and telling
exultingly some stories of the favourite clerk's sharp practice.
The party went down together in a not very congenial state.
Next to Mrs. Frost's unalloyed gladness, the most pleasant spectacle
was old Jane, who volunteered her services in helping to wait, that she
might have the delight of hovering about Master Oliver, to whom she
attended exclusively, and would not let Charlotte so much as offer him
the potatoes. And Charlotte was in rather an excited state at the
presence of a Peruvian production, and the flutter of expecting a
letter which would make her repent of the smiles and blushes she had
expended over an elaborate Valentine, admired as an original
production, and valued the more, alas! because poor Marianne had
received none. Charlotte was just beginning to repent of her
ungenerous triumph, and agitation made her waiting less deft and pretty
than usual; but this mattered the less, since to Oliver any attendance
by women-servants was a shock, as were the small table and plain fare;
and he looked round uneasily.
'Here is an old friend, Oliver,' said his mother, taking up a curious
old soup-ladle.
'I see. It will take some time to get up the stock of plate. I shall
give an order as I pass through London. To be engraved with the
Dynevor crest as before, or would you prefer the lozenge, ma'am?'
'Oh, my dear, don't talk of it now! I am only sorry this is nothing
but mutton-broth; but that's what comes of sudden arrivals, Oliver.'
'It shall be remedied at home,' said Oliver, as if he considered
mutton-broth as one degree from famine.
'I know you had it for me,' said Louis. 'If Jane excels in one art
before all others, it is in mutton-broth.'
Oliver darted a glance as if he imagined this compliment to be mere
derision of his mother and Jane.
Things went on in this style all the evening. Oliver had two
ideas--Cheveleigh, and the Equatorial Steam Navigation Company--and on
these he rang the changes.
There was something striking in his devotion of a lifetime to redeem
his mother's fortunes, but the grandeur was not easily visible in the
detail. He came down on Dynevor Terrace as a consequential, moneyed
man, contemptuous of the poverty which he might have alleviated, and
obtruding tardy and oppressive patronage. He rubbed against the new
generation in too many places for charity or gratitude to be easy. He
was utterly at variance with taste, and openly broached unworthy
sentiments and opinions, and his kindness and his displeasure were
equally irksome. If such repugnance to him were felt even by Louis,
the least personally affected, and the best able to sympathize with his
aunt; it was far stronger in James, abhorring patronage, sensible that,
happen what might, his present perfect felicity must be disturbed, and
devoid of any sentiment for Cheveleigh that could make the restoration
compensate for the obligation so unpleasantly enforced; and Isabel's
fastidious taste made her willing to hold aloof as far as might be
without vexing the old lady.
There was no amalgamation. Fitzjocelyn and Isabel were near the
window, talking over her former home and her sisters, and all the
particulars of the society which she had left, and he had entered;
highly interesting to themselves and to the listening Clara, but to the
uninitiated sounding rather like 'taste, Shakspeare, and the musical
glasses.'
Oliver and his mother, sitting close together, were living in an old
world; asking and answering many a melancholy question on friends, dead
or lost sight of, and yet these last they always made sure that they
should find when they went home to Cheveleigh--that home to which the
son reverted with unbroken allegiance; while the whole was interspersed
with accounts of his plans, and explanations of his vast designs for
the renovation of the old place.
James hovered on the outskirts of both parties, too little at ease to
attach himself to either; fretted by his wife's interest in a world to
which he was a stranger, impatient of his uncle's plans, and trebly
angered by observing the shrewd curious glances which the old man cast
from time to time towards the pair by the window. Fortunately, Mrs.
Frost was still too absolutely wrapt in maternal transport to mark the
clouds that were gathering over her peace. To look at her son, wait on
him, and hear his voice, so fully satisfied her, that as yet it made
little difference what that voice said, and it never entered her mind
to suppose that all her dear ones were not sharing her bliss.
'You were the first to tell me,' she said, as she bade Louis good night
with fondness additional to her messenger of good news; but, as he
pressed her dear old trembling hand, his heart misgave him whether her
joy might not be turned to pain; and when he congratulated Jane, and
heard her call it a blessed day, he longed to be certain that it would
prove so.
And, before he could sleep that night, he wrote a letter to Tom
Madison, warning him to let no temptation nor bad example lead him
aside from strict justice and fair dealing; and advising him rather to
come home, and give up all prospects of rising, than not preserve his
integrity.
James and Isabel were not merciful to their uncle when they could speak
of him without restraint; and began to conjecture his intentions with
regard to them.
'You don't wish to become an appendage to Cheveleigh?' said James,
fondly.
'I! who never knew happiness till I came here!'
'I do not know what my uncle may propose,' said James, 'but I know you
coincide in my determination that he shall never interfere with the
duties of my office.'
'You do not imagine that he wishes it?'
'I know he wishes I were not in Holy Orders. I knew he disliked it at
the time of my ordination; but if he wished me to act according to his
views, he should have given himself the right to dictate.'
'By not neglecting you all your youth.'
'Not that I regret or resent what concerns myself; but it was his
leaving me a burden on my grandmother that drove me to become a
clergyman, and a consistent one I will be, not an idle heir-apparent to
this estate, receiving it as his gift, not my own birthright.'
'An idle clergyman! Never! never!' cried Isabel. 'I should not
believe it was you! And the school--you could not leave it just as
your plans are working, and the boys improving?'
'Certainly not; it would be fatal to abandon it to that stick, Powell.
Ah! Isabel,' as he looked at her beautiful countenance, 'how I pity the
man who has not a high-minded wife! Suppose you came begging and
imploring me not to give any umbrage to the man, because you so doted
upon diamonds.'
'The less merit when one has learnt that they are very cold hard
stones,' said Isabel, smiling.
Isabel was a high-minded wife, but she would have been a still better
one if her loving admiration had allowed her to soften James, or to
question whether pride and rancour did not lurk unperceived in the
midst of the really high and sound motives that prompted him.
While their grandmother could only see Oliver on the best side, James
and Isabel could only see him on the worst, and lost the greatness of
the design in the mercenary habits that exclusive perseverance in it
had produced. It had been a false greatness, but they could not grant
the elevation of mind that had originally conceived it.
The following day was Sunday, and nothing worse took place than little
skirmishes, in which the uncle and nephew's retort and rejoinder were
so drolly similar, that Clara found herself thinking of Miss
Faithfull's two sandy cats over a mouse; but she kept her simile to
herself, finding that Isabel regarded the faintest, gentlest comparison
of the two gentlemen almost as an affront. All actual debate was
staved off by Mrs. Frost's entreaty that business discussion should be
deferred. 'Humph!' said Oliver, 'you reign here, ma'am, but that's not
the way we get on at Lima.'
'I dare say,' said James.
Mrs. Frost's joy was still undimmed. It was almost a trance of
gladness, trembling in her smile, and overflowing in her eye, at every
congratulation and squeeze of the hand from her friends.
'Dear Jemmy,' said she, taking his arm as they went home in the
evening, 'did not that psalm seem meant for us?--'If riches increase,
set not your heart upon them.''
James had been thinking it meant for some one; but, as he said,
'certainly not for you, dear granny.'
'Ah! snares of wealth were set far enough from me for a time! I never
felt so covetous as when there was a report that there was to be an
opposition school. But now your dear uncle is bringing prosperity
back, I must take care not to set my heart even on what he has gained
for me.'
'I defy riches to hurt you,' said James, smiling.
'Ah! Jemmy, you didn't know me as a county grandee,' she said, with a
bright sad look, 'when your poor grandpapa used to dress me up. I'm an
old woman now, past vanities, but I never could sit as loose to them as
your own dear wife does. I never tried. Well, it will be changed
enough; but I shall be glad to see poor old Cheveleigh. It does me
good to hear poor Oliver call it home. If only we had your dear
father!'
'To me Dynevor Terrace is home,' said James.
'A happy home it has been,' said the old lady.
''Goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life!' And
now, Oliver, whom I never thought to see again--oh! what can I do to be
thankful enough! I knew what he was doing! I knew he was not what you
all thought him! And roughing it has been no harm to you or Clara, and
it is all over now! And the dear old place comes back to the old name.
Oh, James, I can sometimes hardly contain myself--that my poor boy has
done it, and all for me, and his brother's children!'
James could scarcely find it in his heart to say a single word to damp
her joy, and all his resolution enabled him to do was to say gently,
'You know, dear granny, we must not forget that I am a clergyman.'
'I know. I have been telling your uncle so; but we can do something.
You might take the curacy, and do a great deal of good. There used to
be wild places sadly neglected in my time. I hope that, since it has
been given back to us, we may feel it more as a stewardship than I did
when it was mine.'
James sighed, and looked softened and thoughtful.
'Your uncle means to purchase an annuity for Jane,' she added; 'and if
we could only think what to do for the Faithfulls! I wonder whether
they would come and stay with us. At least they can never vex
themselves again at not paying rent!'
After a pause--'Jem, my dear, could you manage to give your uncle the
true account of your marriage? He admires Isabel very much, I can tell
you, and is pleased at the connexion. But I fancy, though he will not
say so, that Mr. Ponsonby has desired him to find out all he can about
Louis; and unluckily they have persuaded themselves that poor Louis
courted Isabel, supposing that she was to have Beauchastel, and,
finding his error, betook himself to Mary.'
'Turning Isabel over to me! Extremely flattering.'
'Now, Jem, don't be angry. It is only foolish talk! But unluckily I
can't persuade your uncle not to think the real story all my
partiality; and you might do much more, if it be not too unpleasant to
you.'
'Thank you, granny, it is out of the question. If it were as he does
us the honour to imagine, I should be the last person to confess it. My
evidence could be of no service to Fitzjocelyn, when my uncle's maxim
is to place confidence in no one. The sole refutation in my power is
the terms on which we meet.'
'Now, I have vexed you. I wish I had said nothing about it; but when
dear Louis's happiness may depend on his report--'
'If I were base enough to have acted as he supposes, I should be base
enough to deny it. There is not enough to be hoped to make me speak
with unreserve on such a subject.'
He saved himself from saying--to such a man; but the shrewd, suspicious
old bachelor was not an inviting confidant for the vicissitudes of
delicate and tender feelings of such recent date, and Mrs. Frost
reproached herself with asking too much of her proud, sensitive
grandson.
The black gown and trencher cap by no means gratified Oliver, when
James set off to school on Monday morning; but he consoled himself with
observing, 'We shall soon put an end to that.'
'James is quite devoted to the school,' said Isabel, and she was
answered by the dry growl.
'It will be a hard thing to transplant our young people,' said Mrs.
Frost, 'they have managed to be very happy here.'
'So hard of transplantation that I doubt the possibility,' said Isabel.
'You have made us take very deep root here.'
'Have you ever seen Cheveleigh, Mrs. Dynevor?'
'Never.'
'Poor Oliver! you and I think no place equal to our birthplace,' said
Mrs. Frost.
'I should think Mrs. Roland Dynevor would find it compensation. How
many beds did we make up, mother, the year my father was sheriff?'
'You must go to Jane for that,' said his mother, laughing. 'I'm sure I
never knew.'
'I believe it was twenty-seven,' said Oliver, gravely. 'I know there
were one hundred and eighty-five persons at the ball, and that the room
was hung with blue brocade, mother; and you opened the ball with Lord
Francis. I remember you had violet satin and white blonde.'
'My dear, how can you remember such things! You were a little bit of a
schoolboy!'
'I was sixteen' said Oliver. 'It was the year '13. I will have the
drawing-room hung with blue brocade, and I think Mrs. Roland Dynevor
will own that nothing can exceed it.'
'Very likely,' said Isabel, indifferently; and she escaped, beckoning
with her Clara, who was rather entertained with the reminiscences over
which granny and Uncle Oliver seemed ready to linger for ever; and yet
she was rather ashamed of her own amusement and interest, when she
heard her sister-in-law say, 'If he did but know how weary I am of that
hateful thing, a great house!'
'I hope Cheveleigh is not grander than Ormersfield,' said Clara, in an
odd sort of voice.
The ladies, for the first time, did not sit together this morning.
Clara practised, and Isabel took the Chapel in the Valley out of her
desk, and began a process of turning the Sir Roland into Sir Hubert.
Oliver and his mother were in the sitting-room, and, on James's return
from school in the middle of the day, he was summoned thither. Mrs.
Frost was sitting by the fire, rather tearful and nervous, and her son
stood full in the front, as dignified and magnanimous as size and
features would permit, and the same demeanour was instantly and
unconsciously assumed by his nephew, who was beyond measure chafed by
the attempt at a grand coup.
'I have requested your presence,' began Oliver, 'as the eldest son of
my elder brother, and thus, after my mother, the head of our family.
You are aware that when unfortunate circumstances involved my mother's
property, it was my determination to restore the inheritance to her,
and to my dear brother Henry. For this object, I have worked for the
last thirty-four years, and a fortunate accident having brought our
family estate into the market, I have been enabled to secure it. I am
now ready to make it over to my mother, with entail to yourself and
your heirs, as representatives of my brother Henry, and settling five
thousand pounds on your sister, as the portion to which the younger
children of our family have always been entitled. If you are willing to
reside at our family seat with my mother, I will assure you of a
suitable allowance during her lifetime, and--'
Nothing was more intolerable to a man like James than a shower of
obligations; and his spirit, angered at the very length of the address,
caught at the first opening for avoiding gratitude, and beheld in the
last proposal an absolute bribe to make him sacrifice his sacred
ministry, and he burst forth, 'Sir, I am much obliged to you, but no
offers shall induce me to forsake the duties of my calling.'
'You mistake, if you think I want anything unclerical. No occasion to
hunt--Mr. Tresham used in my day--no one thought the worse of
him--unlucky your taking Orders.'
'There is no use in entering on that point,' said James. 'No other
course was left open to me, and my profession cannot be taken up nor
laid down as a matter of convenience.'
'Young men are taught to think more seriously than they were in our
day,' said Mrs. Frost. 'I told you that you must not try to make him
turn squire.'
'Well! well! good living may be had perhaps. Move to Cheveleigh, and
look out for it at leisure, if nothing else will content him. But
we'll have this drudgery given up. I'll not go home and show my
nephew, heir of the Dynevors, keeping a third-rate grammar-school,'
said Oliver, with his one remaining Eton quality of contempt for
provincial schools.
The Northwold scholar and master were both roused to arms in James.
'Sir,' he said, 'you should have thought of that when you left this
heir of the Dynevors to be educated by the charity of this third-rate
grammar-school.'
'Is this your gratitude, sir!' passionately exclaimed Oliver; 'I, who
have toiled my whole life for your benefit, might look for another
return.'
'It was not for me,' said James. 'It was for family pride. Had it
been from the affection that claims gratitude, you would not have left
your mother in her old age, to labour unaided for the support of your
brother's orphans. For ourselves, I thank you; the habits nurtured by
poverty are the best education; but I cannot let you suppose that a
grand theatrical restoration can atone to me for thirty years' neglect
of my grandmother, or that my gratitude can be extorted by benefactions
at the expense of her past suffering.'
'Jem! dear Jem! what are you saying!' cried Mrs. Frost. 'Don't you
know how kindly your uncle meant? Don't you know how happy we have
been?'
'You may forgive. You are his mother, and you were injured, but I can
never forget what I have seen you undergo.'
'You foolish boy, to forget all our happiness--'
'Nor,' proceeded James, 'can I consent to forego the career of
usefulness that has been opened to me.'
'But, Jem, you could be so useful in the parish! and your uncle could
not wish you to do anything unhandsome by the trustees--'
'I wish him to do nothing, ma'am,' said Oliver. 'If he is too high and
mighty to accept a favour, it is his own loss. We can do without him,
if he prefers the Fitzjocelyn patronage. Much good may it do him!'
James deigned no answer, looked at his watch, and found it time to
return to the school.
Oliver broke out into angry exclamations, and his mother did her utmost
to soothe him. He had no turn for being a country-gentleman, he was
fit for nothing but his counting-house, and he intended to return
thither as soon as he had installed his mother at Cheveleigh; and so
entirely did all his plans hinge upon his nephew, that even now he was
persuaded to hold out his forgiveness, on condition that James would
apologize, resign the school, and call himself Dynevor.
Mrs. Frost hoped that Isabel would prevail on her husband to listen
favourably; but Isabel gloried in his impracticability, and would have
regarded any attempt at mediation as an unworthy effort to turn him
aside from the path of duty. She replied, that she would never say a
word to change his notions of right, and she treated poor Oliver with
all the lofty reserve that she had formerly practised upon possible
suitors.
When Fitzjocelyn came in the afternoon to take leave, before his return
to London, Mrs. Frost begged him to use his influence with James. 'Who
would have thought it would have so turned out?' she said. 'My poor
Oliver! to be so met after all his generous plans! and yet Jem does
want to do right!'
Unfortunately, Louis felt that, to own Oliver's generosity, it was
necessary to be out of sight of him; and finding that there was silence
and constraint in the drawing-room, he asked Isabel to walk with him to
meet James.
'One breathes freely!' said she, as they left the house. 'Was there
ever a more intolerable man?'
'Never was a man who made a more unlucky error in judgment.'
'And that is all you call it?'
'The spurious object warped the mind aside,' said Louis. 'The grand
idea was too exclusive, and now he suffers for the exclusiveness. It
is melancholy to see the cinder of a burnt-offering to Mammon,
especially when the offering was meant for better things.'
In this strain he chose to talk, without coming to particulars, till,
near the corner of the old square, they met the shouting throng of
boys, and presently James himself, descending the steps of the grim old
grey building.
'I thought you would forgive me for coming to meet you under such an
escort,' said Isabel, 'especially as it was to escape from our Peruvian
relative.'
'Poor man! it was a great pity he did not come last year!' said Louis.
'I am glad I have no temptation to bend to his will,' returned James.
'Ha! I like the true core of the quarrel to display itself.'
'Fitzjocelyn, you do not mean that you do not fully approve of the
course I have taken!'
'Extremely magnanimous, but not quite unprecedented. Witness St.
Ronan's Well, where the younger Scrogie abjures the name of Mowbray.'
'Pshaw! Louis, can't you understand? Frost is a glorious name to me,
recording my grandmother's noble exertions on our behalf, but I can
imagine it to be hateful to him, recalling the neglect that made her
slaving necessary.'
'For which amiable reason you insist on obtruding it. Pray, are the
houses henceforth to be Frost Terrace or Arctic Row?'
'Are you come to laugh or to remonstrate?' exclaimed James, stopping.
'Oh! you want to put on your armour! Certainly, I should never tell if
I were come to remonstrate, nor should I venture in such a case--'
'Then you are come to approve,' said Isabel. I knew it!'
'Little you two care--each of you sure of an admiring double.'
'I care for your opinion as much as ever I did,' said James.
'Exactly so,' said Louis, laughing.
'I desire to have your judgment in this matter.'
'If I could judge, I would,' said Louis. 'I see you right in
principle, but are you right in spirit? I own my heart bleeds for Aunt
Kitty, regaining her son to battle with her grandson.'
'I am very sorry for her,' said James; 'but it can't be helped. I
cannot resign my duties here for the sake of living dependent on a
suitable allowance.'
'Ah! Jem! Jem! Oliver little knew the damage his neglect did you.'
'What damage?'
'The fostering an ugly little imp of independence.'
'Aye! you grandees have naturally a distaste for independence, and make
common cause against it.'
'Especially when in a rabid state. Take care, Jem. Independence never
was a Christian duty yet--'
'Then, you want me to go and live on the hoards for the sake of which
my grandmother was left to toil. You would like to see me loitering
about, pensioned to swell the vanity of Cheveleigh, neglecting my vows,
forsaking my duties--'
'You unreasonable man! Is there no way in this whole world for you to
do your duty as a clergyman, but hearing Northwold boys the Latin
grammar?'
'Then, what do you want me to do?'
'I don't want you to do anything. You are the man to know what is
right; only, Isabel, don't help him to hate people more than can
possibly be avoided; and don't break dear Aunt Kitty's heart amongst
you. That's what I care most about!'
When Louis bade his aunt farewell, he threw his arm round her neck,
looked fondly at her, and said, 'Dear aunt, you won't let them tease
you?'
'No, my dear, I am getting past being teased,' she said. 'Vexations
don't hurt me as much as love does me good, and they'll not forget
their affection. It is all goodness in Jem, and poor Oliver will
understand it when I have got him into our home ways again; but he has
been so long away from home, poor fellow!'
'That's right. I won't be uneasy for you. Squabble as they will, they
won't hurt you. But, oh! Dynevor Terrace without you!'
'Ah! you must come to me at _home_!'
'Home! I'm like Jem, jealous for this old house.'
'It is odd how little I feel these things,' said his aunt. 'If any one
had told me, when I tore myself away from Cheveleigh, that I should
have it back, how little I should have thought that I could take it so
easily! I wonder at myself when I wake in the morning that I am not
more moved by it, nor by leaving this dear old place. I suppose it is
because I have not long to stay anywhere. I can keep nothing in my
head, but that I have got my Oliver!'
'I believe it is the peace that is not of this world!' said Louis.