THE CRASH.
Late and early at employ;
Still on thy golden stores intent;
Thy summer in heaping and hoarding is spent,
What thy winter will never enjoy.
SOUTHEY.
'Stitch! stitch!' said James Frost, entering the nursery on a fine
August evening, and finding his wife with the last beams of sunshine
glistening on her black braids of hair, as she sat singing and working
beside the cot where slept, all tossed and rosy, the yearling child.
'Stitch! stitch! If I could but do needlework!'
'Ah!' said Isabel, playfully, lifting up a sweeter face than had ever
been admired in Miss Conway, 'if you will make your kittens such little
romps, what would you have but mending?'
'Is it my fault? I am very sorry I entailed such a business on you.
You were at that frock when I went to evening prayers at the Union, and
it is not mended yet.'
'Almost; and see what a perfect performance it is, all the spots
joining as if they had never been rent. I never was so proud of
anything as of my mending capabilities. Besides, I have not been doing
it all the time: this naughty little Fanny was in such a laughing mood,
that she would neither sleep herself nor let the rest do so; and Kitty
rose up out of her crib, and lectured us all. Now, don't wake
them--no, you must not even kiss the twin cherries; for if they have
one of papa's riots, they will hardly sleep all night.'
'Then you must take me away; it is like going into a flower-garden, and
being told not to gather.'
'Charlotte is almost ready to come to them, and in the meantime here is
something for you to criticise,' said she, taking from the recess of
her matronly workbasket a paper with a pencilled poem, on the Martyrs
of Carthage, far more terse and expressive than anything she used to
write when composition was the object of the day. James read and
commented, and was disappointed when they broke off short-- 'Ah! there
baby woke.'
'Some day I shall give you a subject. Do you know how Sta. Francesca
Romana found in letters of gold the verse of the Psalm she had been
reading, and from which she had been five times called away to attend
to her household duties?'
'I thought you were never to pity me again--'
'Do you call that pitying you?'
'Worse,' said Isabel, smiling.
'Well, then, what I came for was to ask if you can put on your bonnet,
and take a walk in the lanes this lovely evening.'
A walk was a rare treat to the busy mother, and, with a look of
delight, she consented to leave her mending and her children to
Charlotte. There seldom were two happier beings than that pair, as
they wandered slowly, arm-in-arm, in the deep green lanes, in the
summer twilight, talking sometimes of the present, sometimes of the
future, but with the desultory, vague speculation of those who feared
little because they knew how little there was to fear.
'It is well they are all girls,' said James, speaking of that constant
topic, the children; 'we can manage their education pretty well, I
flatter myself, by the help of poor Clara's finishing governess, as
Louis used to call you.'
'If the edge of my attainments be not quite rusted off. Meantime, you
teach Kitty, and I teach nothing.'
'You don't lose your singing. Your voice never used to be so sweet.'
'It keeps the children good. But you should have seen Kitty chaunting
'Edwin and Angelina' to the twins this morning, and getting up an
imitation of crying at 'turn Angelina, ever dear,' because, she said,
Charlotte always did.'
'That is worth writing to tell Fitzjocelyn! It will be a great
disappointment if they have to stay abroad all this winter; but he
seems to think it the only chance of his father getting thoroughly
well, so I suppose there is little hope of him. I should like for him
to see Kitty as she is now, she is so excessively droll!'
'Yes; and it must be a great deprivation to have to leave all his farm
to itself, just as it is looking so well; only he makes himself happy
with whatever he is doing.'
'How he would enjoy this evening! I never saw more perfect rest!'
'Yes;--the sounds of the town come through the air in a hush! and the
very star seems to twinkle quietly!'
They stood still without speaking to enjoy that sense of stillness and
refreshment, looking up through the chestnut boughs that overshadowed
the deep dewy lane, where there was not air enough even to waft down
the detached petals of the wild rose.
'Such moments as these must be meant to help one on,' said James, 'to
hinder daily life from running into drudgery.'
'And it is so delightful to have a holiday given, now and then, instead
of having a life all holiday. Ah! there's a glow-worm--look at the
wonder of that green lamp!'
'I must show it to Kitty,' said James, taking it up on a cushion of
moss.
'Her acquaintance will begin earlier than mine. Do you remember
showing me my first glow-worm at Beauchastel? I used to think that the
gem of my walks, before I knew better. It is a great treat to have
poor Walter here in the holidays, so good and pleasant; but I must say
one charm is the pleasure of being alone together afterwards.'
'A pleasure it is well you do not get tired of, my dear, and I am
afraid it will soon be over for the present. I do believe that is
Richardson behind us! An attorney among the glow-worms is more than I
expected.'
'Good evening, sir,' said the attorney, coming up with them; 'is Mrs.
Frost braving the dew?' And then, after some moments, 'Have you heard
from your sister lately, Mr. Frost?'
'About three weeks ago.'
'She did not mention then,' said Mr. Richardson, hesitating, 'Mr.
Dynevor's health?'
'No! Have you heard anything?'
'I thought you might wish to be aware of what I learnt from, I fear,
too good authority. It appears that Mr. Dynevor paid only a part of
the purchase-money of the estate, giving security for the rest on his
property in Peru; and now, owing to the failure of the Equatorial Steam
Navigation Company, Mr. Dynevor is, I fear, actually insolvent.'
'Did you say he was ill?'
'I heard mentioned severe illness--paralytic affection; but as you have
not heard from Miss Clara, I hope it may be of no importance.'
After a few more inquiries, and additional information being elicited,
good-nights were exchanged, and Mr. Richardson passed on. At first
neither spoke, till Isabel said--
'And Clara never wrote!'
'She would identify herself too much with her uncle in his misfortune.
Poor dear child! what may she not be undergoing!'
'You will go to her?'
'I must. Whether my uncle will forgive me or not, to Clara I must go.
Shall I write first?'
'Oh! no; it will only make a delay, and your uncle might say 'don't
come.''
'Right; delay would prolong her perplexities. I will go to-morrow, and
Mr. Holdsworth will see to the workhouse people.'
His alert air showed how grateful was any excuse that could take him to
Clara, the impulse of brotherly love coming uppermost of all his
sensations. Then came pity for the poor old man whose cherished design
had thus crumbled, and the anxious wonder whether he would forgive, and
deign to accept sympathy from his nephew.
'My dear,' said James, doubtfully; 'supposing, what I hardly dare to
imagine, that he should consent, what should you say to my bringing him
here?
'I believe it would make you happy,' said Isabel. 'Oh! yes, pray
do--and then we should have Clara.'
'I should rejoice to offer anything like reparation, though I do not
dare to hope it will be granted; and I do not know how to ask you to
break up the home comfort we have prized so much.'
'It will be all the better comfort for your mind being fully at ease;
and I am sure we should deserve none at all, if we shut our door
against him now that he is in distress. You must bring him, poor old
man, and I will try with all my might to behave well to him.'
'It is a mere chance; but I am glad to take your consent with me. As to
our affording it, I suppose he may have, at the worst, an allowance
from the creditors, so you will not have to retrench anything.'
'Don't talk of that, dearest. We never knew how little we could live
on till we tried; and if No. 12 is taken, and you are paid for the new
edition of the lectures, and Walter's pay besides--'
'And Sir Hubert,' added James.
'Of course we shall get on,' said Isabel. 'I am not in the least
afraid that the little girls will suffer, if they do live a little
harder for the sake of their old uncle. I only wish you had had your
new black coat first, for I am afraid you won't now.'
'You need not reckon on that. I don't expect that I shall be allowed
the comfort of doing anything for him. But see about them I must. Oh,
may I not be too late!'
Early the next morning James was on his way, travelling through the
long bright summer day; and when, after the close, stifling railway
carriage, full of rough, loud-voiced passengers, he found himself in
the cool of the evening on the bare heath, where the slanting sunbeams
cast a red light, he was reminded by every object that met his eye of
the harsh and rebellious sensations that he had allowed to reign over
him at his last arrival there, which had made him wrangle over the bier
of one so loving and beloved, and exaggerate the right till it wore the
semblance of the wrong.
By the time he came to the village, the parting light was shining on
the lofty church tower, rising above the turmoil and whirl of the
darkening world below, almost as sacred old age had lifted his
grandmother into perpetual peace and joy, above the fret and vexation
of earthly cares and dissensions. The recollection of her confident
trust that reconciliation was in store, came to cheer him as he crossed
the park, and the aspect of the house assured him that at least he was
not again too late.
The servant who answered the bell said that Mr. Dynevor was very ill,
and Miss Dynevor could see no one. James sent in his card, and stood
in an agony of impatience, imagining all and more than all he deserved,
to have taken place--his uncle either dying, or else forcibly
withholding his sister from him.
At last there was a hurried step, and the brother and sister were
clasping each other in speechless joy.
'O Jem! dear Jem! this is so kind!' cried Clara, as with arms round
each other they crossed the hall. 'Now I don't care for anything!'
'My uncle?'
'Much better,' said Clara; 'he speaks quite well again, and his foot is
less numb.'
'Was it paralysis?'
'Yes; brought on by trouble and worry of mind. But how did you know,
Jem?'
'Richardson told me. Oh, Clara, had I offended too deeply for you to
summon me?'
'No, indeed,' said Clara, pressing his arm, 'I knew you would help us
as far as you could; but to throw ourselves on you would be robbing the
children, so I wanted to have something fixed before you heard.'
'My poor child, what could be fixed?'
'You gave me what is better than house and land,' said Clara. 'I wrote
to Miss Brigham; she will give me employment in the school till I can
find a place as daily governess, and she is to take lodgings for us.'
'And is this what it has come to, my poor Clara?'
'Oh, don't pity me! my heart has felt like an India-rubber ball ever
since the crash. Even poor Uncle Oliver being so ill could not keep me
from feeling as if the burthen were off my back, and I were little
Clara Frost again. It seemed to take away the bar between us; and so
it has! O Jem! this is happiness. Tell me of Isabel and the babies.'
'You will come home to them. Do you think my uncle would consent?'
She answered with an embrace, a look of rapture and of doubt, and then
a negative. 'Oh, no, we cannot be a burthen on you. You have quite
enough on your hands. And, oh! you have grown so spare and thin. I
mean to maintain my uncle, if--' and her spirited bearing softened into
thoughtfulness, as if the little word conveyed that she meant not to be
self-confident.
'But, Clara, is this actual ruin? I know only what Richardson could
tell me.'
'I do not fully understand,' said Clara. 'It had been plain for a long
time that something was on Uncle Oliver's mind; he was so restless all
the winter at Paris, and at last arranged our coming home very
suddenly. I think he was disappointed in London, for he went out at
once, and came back very much discomposed. He even scolded me for not
having married; and when I tried to coax him out of it, he said it was
for my good, and he wanted to see after his business in Peru. I put
him in mind how dear granny had begged him to stay at home; but he told
me I knew nothing about it, and that he would have gone long ago if I
had not been an obstinate girl, and had known how to play my cards. I
said something about going home, but that made him more furious than
ever. But, after all, it is not fair to tell all about the last few
months. Dr. Hastings says his attack had been a long time coming on,
and he must have been previously harassed.'
'And you had to bear with it all?'
'He was never unkind. Oh, no; but it was sad to see him so miserable,
and not to know why--and so uncertain, too! Sometimes he would insist
on giving grand parties, and yet he was angry with the expense of my
poor little pony-carriage. I don't think he always quite knew what he
was about; and while he hoped to pull through, I suppose he was afraid
of any one guessing at his embarrassments. On this day fortnight he
was reading his letters at breakfast--I saw there was something amiss,
and said something stupid about the hot rolls, because he could not
bear me to notice. I think that roused him, for he got up, but he
tottered, and by the time I came to him he seemed to slip down into my
arms, quite insensible. The surgeon in the village bled him, and he
came to himself, but could not speak. I had almost sent for you then,
but Dr. Hastings came, and thought he would recover, and I did not
venture. Indeed, Jane forbade me; she is a sort of lioness and her
whelps. Well, the next day came Mr. Morrison, who is the Mr.
Richardson to this concern, and by-and-by he asked to see me. He kept
the doctor in the next room. I believe he thought I should faint or
make some such performance, for he began about his painful duty, and
frightened me lest my poor uncle should be worse, only he was not the
right man to tell me. So at last it came out that we were ruined, and
I was not an heiress at all, at all! If it had not been for poor Uncle
Oliver, I should have cried 'Hurrah!' I did nearly laugh to hear him
complimenting my firmness. I believe the history is this:--Hearing that
this place was for sale, brought Uncle Oliver home before his affairs
could well do without him. He paid half the price, and promised to pay
the rest in three years, giving security on the mines and the other
property in Peru; but somehow the remittances have never come properly,
and he trusted to some great success with the Equatorial Company to set
things straight, but it seems that it has totally failed, and that was
the news that overthrew him. Then the creditors, who had been put off
with hopes, all came down on him together, and there seems to be
nothing to be done but to give up everything to them. Poor Uncle
Oliver!--I sat watching him that evening, and thinking how Louis would
say the sea had swept away his whole sand castle with one wave.'
'Does he know it? Have any steps been taken?'
'Mr. Morrison showed me what my poor uncle had done. He had really
executed a deed giving me the whole estate; he would have borne all the
disgrace and persecution himself--for you know it would have been a
most horrible scrape, as he had given them security on property that
was not really secure. Mr. Morrison said the deed would hold, and that
he would bring me counsel's opinion if I liked. But, oh, Jem! I was
so thankful that my birthday was over, and I was my own woman! I made
him draw up a paper, and I signed it, undertaking that they shall have
quiet possession provided they will come to an amicable settlement, and
not torment my uncle.'
'I hope he is a man of sense, who will make the best terms?'
'You may see to that now. I'm sure he is a man of compliments. He
tells me grand things about my disinterestedness, and the creditors and
they have promised to let us stay unmolested as long as I please, which
will be only till my uncle can move, for I must get rid of all these
servants and paraphernalia, and in the meantime they are concocting the
amicable adjustment, and Mr. Morrison said he should try to stipulate
for a maintenance for my uncle, but he was not sure of it, without
giving up what may yet come from Peru. Jane's annuity is safe--that is
a comfort! What work I had to make her believe it! and now she wants
us all to live upon it.'
'That was a rare and beautiful power by which my grandmother infused
such faithful love into all her dependants. But now for the person
really to be pitied.'
'It was only three days ago that it was safe to speak of it, but then
he had grown so anxious that the doctors said I must begin. So I
begged and prayed him to forgive me, and then told what I had done, and
he was not so very angry. He only called me a silly child, and said I
did not know what I had done in those few days that I had been left to
myself. So I told him dear granny had had it, and that was all that
signified, and that I never had any right here. Then,' said Clara,
tearfully, 'he began to cry like a child, and said at least she had
died in her own home, and he called me Henry's child: and then Jane
came and turned me out, and wont let me go near him unless I promise to
be good and say nothing. But I must soon; for however she pats him,
and says, 'Don't, Master Oliver,' I see his mind runs on nothing else,
and the doctor says he may soon hear the plans, and be moved.'
'Can you venture to tell him that I am here?'
Before Clara could answer, Jane opened the door--'Miss Clara, your
uncle;' and there she stopped, at the unexpected sight of the brother
and sister still hand in hand. 'Here, Jane, do you see him?' cried
Clara; and James came forward with outstretched hand, but he was not
graciously received.
'Now, Master James, you ain't coming here to worrit your poor uncle?'
'No, indeed, Jane. I am come in the hope of being of some use to him.'
'I'd rather by half it had been Lord Fitzjocelyn,' muttered Jane, 'he
was always quieter.'
'Now, Jane, you should not be so cross,' cried Clara, 'when it is your
own Jemmy, come on purpose to help and comfort us all! You are going
to tell Uncle Oliver, and make him glad to see him, as you know you
are.'
'I know,' said James, 'that last time I was here, I behaved ill enough
to make you dread my presence, Jane; but I have learnt and suffered a
good deal since that time, and I wish for nothing so much as for my
uncle's pardon.'
Mrs. Beckett would have been more impressed, had she ever ceased to
think of Master Jemmy otherwise than as a self-willed but candid boy;
and she answered as if he had been throwing himself on her mercy after
breaking a window, or knocking down Lord Fitzjocelyn--
'Well, sir, that is all you can say. I'm glad you are sorry. I'll see
if I can mention, it to your uncle.'
Off trotted Jane, while Clara's indignation and excited spirits
relieved themselves by a burst of merry laughter, as she hung about her
brother, and begged to hear of the dear old home.
The old servant, in her simplicity, went straight upstairs, and up to
her nursling, as he had again become. 'Master Oliver,' said she, 'he
is come. Master Jem is come back, and 'twould do your heart good to
see how happy the children are together--just like you and poor Master
Henry.'
'Did she ask him here?' said Mr. Dynevor, uneasily.
'No, sir, he came right out of his own head, because he thought she
would feel lost.'
Oliver vouchsafed no reply, and Jane pressed no farther. He never
alluded to his guest; but when Clara came into the room, his eye dwelt
on her countenance of bright content and animation, and the smiles that
played round her lips as she sat silent. Her voice was hushed in the
sick-room, but he heard it about the house with the blithe, lively ring
that had been absent from it since he carried her away from Northwold;
and her steps danced upstairs, and along the galleries, with the light,
bounding tread unknown to the constrained, dignified Miss Dynevor. Ah
the notice he took that night was to say, petulantly, when Clara was
sitting with him, 'Don't stay here; you want to be down-stairs.'
'Oh, no, dear uncle, I am come to stay with you. I don't want, in the
least, to be anywhere but here.'
He seemed pleased, although he growled; and next morning Jane reported
that he had been asking for how long his nephew had come, and saying he
was glad that Miss Dynevor had someone to look after her--a sufferance
beyond expectation. In his helpless state, Jane had resumed her
nursery relations with him; and he talked matters over with her so
freely that it was well that the two young people were scarcely less
her children, and had almost an equal share of her affection, so that
Clara felt that matters might be safely trusted in her hands.
Clara's felicity could hardly be described, with her fond affections
satisfied by her brother's presence, and her fears of managing ill,
removed by reliance on him; and many as were the remaining cases, and
great as was the suspense lest her uncle should still nourish
resentment, nothing could overcome the sense of restored joy ever
bubbling up, not even the dread that James might not bear patiently
with continued rebuffs. But James was so much more gentle and tolerant
than she had ever known him, that at first she could not understand
missing the retort, the satire, the censure which had seemed an
essential part of her brother. She was always instinctively guarding
against what never happened, or if some slight demonstration flashed
out, he caught himself up, and asked pardon before she had perceived
anything, till she began to think marriage had altered him wonderfully,
and almost to owe Isabel a grudge for having cowed his spirit. She
could hardly believe that he was waiting so patiently in the guise of a
suppliant, when she thought him in the right from the first; though she
could perceive that the task was easier now that the old man was in
adversity, and she saw that he regarded his exclusion from his uncle's
room in the light of a just punishment, to be endured with humility.
James, on his side, was highly pleased with his sister. Having only
seen her as the wild, untamed Giraffe, he was by no means prepared for
the dignity and decision with which Miss Dynevor reigned over the
establishment. Her tall figure, and the simple, straightforward ease
of her movements and manners, seemed made to grace those large, lofty
rooms; and as he watched her playing the part of mistress of the house
so naturally in the midst of the state, the servants, the silver
covers, and the trappings, he felt that heiress-ship became her so
well, that he could hardly believe that her tenure there was over, and
unregretted. 'Even Isabel could not do it better,' he said, smiling;
and she made a low curtsey for the compliment, and laughed back, 'I'm
glad you have come to see my performance. It has been a very long,
dull pageant, and here comes Mr. Morrison, I hope with the last act.'
Morrison was evidently much relieved that Miss Dynevor should have some
relative to advise with, since he did not like the responsibility of
her renunciation, though owning that it was the only thing that could
save her uncle from disgraceful ruin, and perhaps from prosecution;
whereas now the gratitude and forbearance of the creditors were
secured, and he hoped that Mr. Dynevor might be set free from the
numerous English involvements, without sacrificing his remaining
property in Peru. The lawyer seemed to have no words to express to
James his sense of Miss Dynevor's conduct in the matter, her
promptitude and good sense having apparently struck him as much as her
generosity, and there was no getting him to believe, as Clara wished,
that the sacrifice was no sacrifice at all--nothing, as she said, but
'common honesty and a great riddance.' He promised to take steps in
earnest for the final settlement with the creditors; and though still
far from the last act, Clara began to consider of hastening her plans.
It was exceedingly doubtful whether Oliver would hear of living at
Dynevor Terrace, and Clara could not be separated from him; besides
which, she was resolved that her brother should not be burthened, and
she would give James no promises, conditional or otherwise.
Mr. Dynevor had discovered that Morrison had been in the house, and was
obviously restless to know what had taken place. By-and-by he said to
Jane, with an air of inquiry, 'Why does not the young man come near me?'
Mrs. Beckett was too happy to report the invitation, telling 'Master
Jem' at the same time that 'he was not to rake up nothing gone and
past; there was quite troubles enough for one while.' Clara thought
the same, and besides was secretly sure that if he admitted that he had
been wrong in part, his uncle would imagine him to mean that he had
been wrong in the whole. Their instructions and precautions were
trying to James, whose chaplaincy had given him more experience of the
sick and the feeble than they gave him credit for; but he was patient
enough to amaze Clara and pacify Jane, who ushered him into the
sick-chamber. There, even in his worst days, he must have laid aside
ill-feeling at the aspect of the shrunken, broken figure in the
pillowed arm-chair, prematurely aged, his hair thin and white, his face
shrivelled, his eyelid drooping, and mouth contracted. He was still
some years under sixty; but this was the result of toil and climate--of
the labour generously designed, but how conducted, how resulting?
He had not learned to put out his left hand--he only made a sharp nod,
as James, with tender and humble respect, approached, feeling that, how
his grandmother was gone, this frail old man, his father's brother, was
the last who claimed by right his filial love and gratitude. How
different from the rancour and animosity with which he had met his
former advances!
He ventured gently on kindly hopes that his uncle was better, and they
were not ill taken, though not without fretfulness. Presently Oliver
said, 'Come to look after your sister? that's right--good girl, good
girl!'
'That she is!' exclaimed James, heartily.
'Too hasty! too great hurry,' resumed Oliver; 'she had better have
waited, saved the old place,--never mind what became of the old man,
one-half dead already.'
'She would not have been a Clara good for much, if she had treated you
after that fashion, sir,' said James, smiling.
He gave his accustomed snort. 'The mischief a girl let alone can do in
three days, when once she's of age, and one can't stop her! Women
ought never to come of age, ain't fit for it, undo all the work of my
lifetime with a stroke of her pen!'
'For your sake, sir!'
'Pshaw! Pity but she'd been safe married--tied it up well with
settlements then out of her power. Can't think what that young
Fitzjocelyn was after--it ain't the old affair. Ponsonby writes me
that things are to be settled as soon as Ward comes back.'
'Indeed!'
'Aye, good sort of fellow--no harm to have him in our concerns--I hope
he'll look into the accounts, and find what Robson is at. After all, I
shall soon be out there myself, and make Master Robson look about him.
Mad to allow myself to stay--but I'll wait no longer. Morrison may put
the fellows off'--I'll give him a hint; we'll save the place, after
all, when I once get out to Lima. If only I knew what to do with that
girl!'
James could not look at him without a conviction that he would never
recover the use of his hand and foot; but this was no time to
discourage his spirits, and the answer was--'My sister's natural home
would be with me.'
'Ha! the child would like it, I suppose. I'd make a handsome allowance
for her. I shall manage that when my affairs are in my own hands; but
I may as well write to the mountains as to Ponsonby. Aye, aye! Clara
might go to you. She'll have enough any way to be quite worth young
Fitzjocelyn's while, you may tell him. That mine in the San Benito
would retrieve all, and I'll not forget. Pray, how many children have
you by this time?'
'Four little girls, sir,' said James, restraining the feeling which was
rising in the contact with his uncle, revealing that both were still
the same men.
'Hm! No time lost, however! Well, we shall see! Any way, an
allowance for Clara's board won't hurt. What's your notion?'
James's notion was profound pity for the poor old man. 'Indeed, sir,'
he said, 'Clara is sure to be welcome. All we wish is, that you would
kindly bring her to us at once. Perhaps you would find the baths of
service; we would do our utmost to make you comfortable, and we are not
inhabiting half the house, so that there would be ample space to keep
the children from inconveniencing you.'
'Clara is set on it, I'll warrant.'
'Clara waits to be guided by your wishes; but my wife and I should
esteem it as the greatest favour you could do us.'
'Ha! we'll see what I can manage. I must see Morrison'--and he fell
into meditation, presently breaking from it to say fretfully, 'I say,
Roland, would you reach me that tumbler?'
Never had James thought to be grateful for that name! He would gladly
have been Roland Dynevor for the rest of his days, if he could have
left behind him the transgressions of James Frost! But the poor man's
shattered thoughts had been too long on the stretch; and, without
further ceremony, Jane came in and dismissed his nephew.
Clara hardly trusted her ears when she was told shortly after, by her
uncle, that they were to go to Northwold. Roland wished it; and, poor
fellow! the board and lodging were a great object to him. He seemed to
have come to his senses now it was too late; and if Clara wished it,
and did not think it dull, there she might stay while he himself was
gone to Lima.
'A great object the other way,' Clara had nearly cried, in her
indignation that James could not be supposed disinterested in an
invitation to an old man, who probably was destitute.
Brother and uncle appeared to have left her out of the consultation;
but she was resolved not to let him be a burthen on those who had so
little already, and she called her old friend Jane to take counsel with
her, whether it would not be doing them an injury to carry him thither
at all. So much of Jane's heart as was not at Cheveleigh was at
Dynevor Terrace, and her answer was decided.
'To be sure, Miss Clara, nothing couldn't be more natural.'
'Nothing, indeed, but I can't put them to trouble and expense.'
'I'll warrant,' said Jane, 'that I'll make whatever they have go twice
as far as Charlotte ever will. Why, you know I keeps myself; and for
the rest, it will be a mere saving to have me in the kitchen! There's
no air so good for Master Oliver.'
'I see you mean to go, Jane,' said Clara. 'Now, I have to look out for
myself.'
'Bless me, Miss Clara, don't you do nothing in a hurry. Go home quiet
and look about you.'
Jane had begun to call Northwold home; and, in spite of her mournings
over the old place, Clara thought she had never been so happy there as
in her present dominion over Master Oliver, and her prospects of her
saucepans and verbenas at No. 5.
Poor Oliver! what a scanty measure of happiness had his lifelong
exertions produced! Many a human sacrifice has been made to a grim and
hollow idol, failing his devotees in time of extremity. Had it not
been thus with Oliver Dynevor's self-devotion to the honour of his
family?