BUT THEY WERE YOUNG.
Brune arrived at Redware Hall while it was still afternoon, and he
found no difficulty in obtaining an interview with its mistress. She
was sitting at a table in a large bay-window, painting the view from
it. For in those days ladies were not familiar with high art and all
its nomenclature and accessories; Lady Redware had never thought of an
easel, or a blouse, or indeed of any of the trappings now considered
necessary to the making of pictures. She was prettily dressed in silk;
and a square of bristol-board, a box of Newman's water-colours, and a
few camel's-hair pencils were neatly arranged before her.
She rose when Brune entered, and met him with a suave courtesy; and
the unsophisticated young man took it for a genuine pleasure. He felt
sorry to trouble such a nice-looking gentlewoman, and he said so with
a sincerity that made her suddenly serious. "Have you brought me bad
news, Mr. Anneys?" she asked.
"I am afraid you will be put about a bit. Sir Ulfar Fenwick met my
sister this morning; and they were seen by ill-natured eyes, and I
came, quiet-like, to let you know that he must leave the dales
to-night."
"Cannot Sir Ulfar meet his own wife?"
"Lady Redware, that is not the question. Put it, 'Cannot Sir Ulfar
meet your sister?' and I will answer you quick enough, 'Not while
there are two honest men in Allerdale to prevent him.'"
"You cannot frighten Sir Ulfar from Allerdale. To threaten him is to
make him stay."
"Dalesmen are not ones to threaten. I tell you that the vicar's maid
saw Sir Ulfar and my sister together; and when William Anneys hears of
it, Sir Ulfar will get such a notice to leave these parts as will
give him no choice. I came to warn him away before he could not help
himself. I say freely, I did so to please Aspatria, and out of no
good-will going his way."
"But if he will not leave Allerdale?"
"But if William Anneys, and the sixty gentlemen who will ride with
William Anneys, say he must go? What then?"
"Of course Sir Ulfar cannot fight a mob."
"Not one of that mob of gentlemen would fight him; but they all carry
stout riding-whips." And Brune looked at the lady with a sombre
intentness which made further speech unnecessary. She had been alarmed
from the first; she now made no further attempt to disguise her
terror.
"What must I do, Mr. Anneys?" she asked. "What must I do?"
"Send your brother away from Cumberland to-night. I say he must leave
to-night. To-morrow morning may be too late to prevent a great
humiliation. Aspatria begged me to come to you. I do not say I wanted
to come."
At this moment the door opened, and Sarah Sandys entered. Brune
turned, and saw her; and his heart stood still. She came slowly
forward, her garment of pale-green and white just touching her
sandalled feet. She had a rush basket full of violets in her hands;
there were primroses in her breast and belt, and her face was like a
pink rose. High on her head her fair hair was lifted, and, being
fastened with a large turquoise comb, it gave the idea of sunshine and
blue sky.
Brune stood looking at her, as a mortal might look at the divine
Cytherea made manifest. His handsome, open face, full of candid
admiration, had almost an august character. He bowed to her, as men
bow when they bend their heart and give its homage and delight. Sarah
was much impressed by the young man's beauty, and she felt his swift
adoration of her own charms. She made Lady Redware introduce her to
Brune, and she completed her conquest of the youth as she stood a
moment holding his hand and smiling with captivating grace into his
eyes.
Then Lady Redware explained Brune's mission, and Sarah grasped the
situation without any disguises. "It simply means flight, Elizabeth,"
she said. "What could Ulfar do with fifty or sixty angry Cumberland
squires? He would have to go. In fact, I know they have a method of
persuasion no mortal man can resist."
Brune saw that his errand was accomplished. Lady Redware thanked him
for his consideration, and Sarah rang for the tea-service, and made
him a cup, and gave it to him with her own lovely hands. Brune saw
their exquisite form, their translucent glow, the sparkling of
diamonds and emeralds upon them. The tea was as if brewed in
Paradise; it tasted of all things delightful; it was a veritable cup
of enchantments.
Then Brune rode away, and the two women watched him over the hill. He
sat his great black hunter like a cavalry officer; and the creature
devoured the distance with strides that made their hearts leap to the
sense of its power and life.
"He is the very handsomest man I ever saw!" said Sarah.
"What is to be done about Ulfar? Sarah, you must manage this business.
He will not listen to me."
"Ulfar has five senses. Ulfar is very fond of himself. He will leave
Redware, of course. How handsome Brune Anneys is!"
"Will you coax him to leave to-night?"
"Ulfar? Yes, I will; for it is the proper thing for him to do. It
would be a shame to bring his quarrels to your house.--What a splendid
rider! Look, Elizabeth, he is just topping the hill! I do believe he
turned his head! Is he not handsome? Apollo! Antinoues! Pshaw! Brune
Anneys is a great deal more human, and a great deal more godlike, than
either."
"Do not be silly, Sarah. And do occupy yourself a little with Ulfar
now."
"When the hour comes, I will. Ulfar is evidently occupying himself at
present in watching his wife. There is a decorous naughtiness and a
stimulating sense of danger about seeing Aspatria, that must be a
thorough enjoyment to Ulfar."
"Men are always in fusses. Ulfar has kept my heart palpitating ever
since he could walk alone."
Sarah sighed. "It is very difficult," she said, "to decide whether
very old men or very young men can be the greater trial. The suffering
both can cause is immense! Poor Sandys was sixty-six, and Ulfar is
thirty-six, and--" She shook her head, and sighed again.
"How hateful country-people are!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "They must
talk, no matter what tragedy they cause with their scandalous words."
"Are they worse than our own set, either in town or country? You know
what the Countess of Denbigh considered pleasant conversation?--telling
things that ought not to be told."
"The Countess is a wretch! she would tell the most sacred of
secrets."
"I tell secrets also. I do not consider it wrong. What business has
any one to throw the _onus_ of keeping their secret on my shoulders?
Why should they expect from me more prudence than they themselves have
shown?"
"That is true. But in these valleys they speak so uncomfortably
direct; nothing but the strongest, straightest, most definite words
will be used."
"That is a pity. People ought to send scandal through society in a
respectable hunt-the-slipper form of circulation. But that is a kind
of decency to be cultivated. However, I shall tell Ulfar, in the
plainest words I can find, that there will be about sixty Cumberland
squires here to-morrow, to ride with him out of the county, and that
they are looking forward to the fun of it just as much as if it was a
fox-hunt. Ulfar has imagination. He will be able to conceive such a
ride,--the flying man, and the roaring, laughing, whip-cracking
squires after him! He will remember how Tom Appleton the wrestler, who
did something foul, was escorted across the county line last summer.
And Ulfar hates a scene. Can you fancy him making himself the centre
of such an affair?"
So they talked while Brune galloped homeward in a very happy mood. He
felt as those ancients may have felt when they met the Immortals and
saluted them. The thought of the beautiful Mrs. Sandys filled his
imagination; but he talked comfortably to Aspatria, and assured her
that there was now no fear of a meeting between her husband and Will.
"Only," he said, "tell Will yourself to-night, and he will never doubt
you."
Unfortunately, Will did not return that night from the Frosthams'; for
in the morning the two men were to go together to Dalton very early.
Will heard nothing there, but Mrs. Frostham was waiting at her garden
gate to tell him when he returned. He had left Squire Frostham with
his son-in-law, and was alone. Mrs. Frostham made a great deal of the
information, and broke it to Will with much consideration. Will heard
her sullenly. He was getting a few words ready for Aspatria, as Mrs.
Frostham told her tale, but they were for her alone. To Mrs. Frostham
he adopted a tone she thought very ungrateful.
For when the whole affair, real and consequential, had been told, he
answered: "What is there to make a wonder of? Cannot a woman talk and
walk a bit with her own husband? Maybe he had something very
particular to say to her. I think it is a shame to bother a little
lass about a thing like that."
And he folded himself so close that Mrs. Frostham could neither
question nor sympathize with him longer. "Good-evening to you," he
said coldly; and then, while visible, he took care to ride as if quite
at his ease. But the moment the road turned from Frostham he whipped
his horse to its full speed, and entered the farmyard with it in a
foam of hurry, and himself in a foam of passion.
Aspatria met him with the confession on her lips. He gave her no time.
He assailed her with affronting and injurious epithets. He pushed her
hands and face from him. He vowed her tears were a mockery, and her
intention of confessing a lie. He met all her efforts at explanation,
and all her attempts to pacify him, at sword-point.
She bore it patiently for a while; and then Will Anneys saw an
Aspatria he had never dreamed of. She seemed to grow taller; she did
really grow taller; her face flamed, her eyes flashed, and, in a voice
authoritative and irresistible, she commanded him to desist.
"You are my worst enemy," she said. "You are as deaf as the village
gossips. You will not listen to the truth. Your abuse, heard by every
servant in the house, certifies all that malice dares to think. And
in wounding my honour you are a parricide to our mother's good name! I
am ashamed of you, Will!"
From head to foot she reflected the indignation in her heart, as she
stood erect with her hands clasped and the palms dropped downward, no
sign of tears, no quiver of fear or doubt, no retreat, and no
submission, in her face or attitude.
"Why, whatever is the matter with you, Aspatria?"
At this moment Brune entered, and she went to him, and put her hand
through his arm, and said: "Brune, speak for me! Will has insulted
mother and father, through me, in such a way that I can never forgive
him!"
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Will Anneys!" And Brune put his
sister gently behind him, and then marched squarely up to his
brother's face. "You are as passionate as a brute beast, Will, and
that, too, with a poor little lass that has her own troubles, and has
borne them like--like a good woman always does."
"I do not want to hear you speak, Brune."
"Ay, but I will speak, and you shall hear me. I tell you, Aspatria is
in no kind to blame. The man came on her sudden, out of the
plantation. She did not take his hand, she did not listen to him. She
sent him about his business as quick as might be."
"Lottie Patterson saw her," said Will, dourly.
"Because Aspatria called Lottie Patterson to her; and if Lottie
Patterson says she saw anything more or worse than ought to be, I will
pretty soon call upon Seth Patterson to make his sister's words good.
Cush! I will that! And what is more, Will Anneys, if you do not know
how to take care of your sister's good name, I will teach you,--you
mouse of a man! You go and side with that Frostham set against
Aspatria! Chaff on the Frosthams! It is a bad neighbourhood where a
girl like Aspatria cannot say a word or two on the king's highway at
broad noonday, without having a _sisserara_ about it."
"I did not side with the Frosthams against Aspatria."
"I'll be bound you did!"
"Let me alone, Brune! Go your ways out of here, both of you!"
"To be sure, we will both go. Come, Aspatria. When you are tired of
ballooning, William Anneys, and can come down to common justice, maybe
then I will talk to you,--not till."
Now, good honest anger is one of the sinews of the soul; and he that
wants it when there is occasion has but a maimed mind. The hot words,
the passionate atmosphere, the rebellion of Aspatria, the decision of
Brune, had the same effect upon Will's senseless anger as a
thunder-storm has upon the hot, heavy, summer air. Will raged his bad
temper away, and was cool and clear-minded after it.
At the same hour the same kind of mental thunder-storm was prevailing
over all common-sense at Redware Hall. Ulfar, after a long and vain
watch for another opportunity to speak to Aspatria, returned there in
a temper compounded of anger, jealousy, disappointment, and
unsatisfied affection. He heard Lady Redware's story of his own danger
and of Brune's consideration with scornful indifference. Brune's
consideration he laughed at. He knew very well, he answered, that
Brune Anneys hated him, and would take the greatest delight in such a
hubbub as he pretended was in project.
"But he came to please Aspatria," continued Lady Redware. "He said he
came only to please Aspatria."
"So Aspatria wishes me to leave Allerdale? I will not go."
"Sarah, he will not go," cried Lady Redware, as her friend entered
the room. "He says he will not go."
"That is because you have appealed to Ulfar's feelings instead of to
his judgment. When Ulfar considers how savagely primitive these
dalesmen are in their passions, he will understand that discretion is
the nobler part of valour. In Russia he thought it a very prudent
thing to get out of the way when a pack of wolves were in the
neighbourhood."
"The law will protect me in this house. Human beings have to mind the
law."
"There are times when human beings are a law unto themselves. How
would you like to see a crowd of angry men shouting around this house
for you? Think of your sister,--and of me, if I am worth so much
consideration."
"I am not to be frightened, Sarah."
"Will you consider, then, that as far as Keswick and Kendal on one
side, and as far as Dalton and Whitehaven on the other side, every
local newspaper will have, or will make, its own version of the
affair? The Earl of Lonsdale, with a large party, is now at
Whitehaven Castle. What a _sauce piquante_ it will be to his dinners!
How the men will howl over it, and how the women will snicker and
smile!"
"Sarah! you can think of the hatefullest things."
"And Lonsdale will go up to London purposely to have the delight of
telling it at the clubs."
"Sarah!"
"And the 'Daily Whisper' will get Lonsdale's most delectable version,
and blow it with the four winds of heaven to the four corners of the
civilized world."
"Sarah Sandys, I--"
"Worse still! that poor girl whom you treated so abominably, must
suffer the whole thing over again. Her name will be put as the head
and front of your offending. All her sorrows and heartbreak will be
made a penny mouthful for country bumpkins and scandalous gammers to
'Oh!' and 'Ah!' over. Ulfar, if you are a man, you will not give her a
moment's terror of such consequences. You may see that she fears
them, by her sending her brother to entreat your absence."
"And I must be called coward and runaway!"
"Let them call you anything they like, so that you spare her further
shame and sorrow."
"Your talking in this fashion to me, Sarah, is very like Satan
correcting sin. I loved Aspatria when I met you in Rome."
"Of course! Adam always has his Eve ready. 'Not my fault, good people!
Look at this woman! With her bright smiles and her soft tongue she
beguiled me; and so I fell!' We can settle that question, you and
I, again. Now you must ring the bell, and order your horse--say,
at four o'clock to-morrow morning. You can have nearly six hours'
sleep,--quite enough for you."
"You have not convinced me, Sarah."
"Then you must ride now, and be convinced afterward. For your sister's
sake and for Aspatria's sake, you will surely go away."
Lady Redware was crying, and she cried a little harder to emphasize
Sarah's pleading. Ulfar was in a hard strait. He looked angrily at the
handsome little woman urging him to do the thing he hated to do, and
then taking the kerchief from his sister's face, he kissed her, and
promised to leave Redware at dawn of day.
"But," said he, "if you send me away now, I tell you, our parting is
likely to be for many years, perhaps for life. I am going beyond
civilization, and so beyond scandal."
"Do not flatter yourself so extravagantly, Ulfar. There is scandal
everywhere, and always has been, even from the beginning. I have no
doubt those nameless little sisters of Cain and Abel were talked about
unpleasantly by their sisters and brothers-in-law. In fact, wherever
there are women there are men glad to pull them down to their own
level."
"Is it not very hard, then, that I am not to be permitted to stay here
and defend the women I love?"
Sarah shook her head. "It is beyond your power, Ulfar. If Porthos were
on earth again, or Amadis of Gaul, they might have happy and useful
careers in handling as they deserve the maligners of good, quiet
women. But the men of this era!--which of them durst lift the stone
that the hand without sin is permitted to cast?"
So they talked the night away, drifting gradually from the unpleasant
initial subject to Ulfar's plan of travel and the far-off prospect of
his return. And in the gray, cold dawn he bade them farewell, and they
watched him until he vanished in the mists rolling down the mountain.
Then they kissed each other,--a little, sad kiss of congratulation,
wet with tears; they had won their desire, but their victory had left
them weeping. Alas! it is the very condition of success that every
triumph must be baptized with somebody's tears.
This event, beginning in such a trifle as an almost accidental visit
of Aspatria to the vicar, was the line sharply dividing very different
lives. Nothing in Seat-Ambar was ever quite the same after it. William
Anneys, indeed, quickly perceived and acknowledged his fault, and the
reconciliation was kind and complete; but Aspatria had taken a step
forward, and crossed clearly that bound which divides girlhood from
womanhood. Unconsciously she assumed a carriage that Will felt
compelled to respect, and a tone was in her voice he did not care to
bluff and contradict. He never again ordered her to remain silent or
to leave his presence. A portion of his household authority had passed
from him, both as regarded Aspatria and Brune; and he felt himself to
be less master than he had formerly been.
Perhaps this was one reason of the growing frequency of his visits to
Frostham. There he was made much of, deferred to, and all his little
fancies flattered and obeyed. Will knew he was the most important
person in the world to Alice Frostham; and he knew, also, that he only
shared Aspatria's heart with Ulfar Fenwick. Men like the whole heart,
and nothing less than the whole heart; hence Alice's influence grew
steadily all through the summer days, full to the brim of happy labour
and reasonable love. As early as the haymaking Will told Aspatria that
Alice was coming to Seat-Ambar as its mistress; and when the harvest
was gathered in, the wedding took place. It was as noisily jocund an
affair as Aspatria's had been silent and sorrowful; and Alice
Frostham, encircled by Will's protecting arm, was led across the
threshold of her own new home, to the sound of music and rejoicing.
The home was quickly divided, though without unkind intent. Will and
Alice had their own talk, their own hopes and plans, and Aspatria and
Brune generally felt that their entrance interfered with some
discussion. So Aspatria and Brune began to sit a great deal in
Aspatria's room, and by and by to discuss, in a confidential way, what
they were to do with their future. Brune had no definite idea.
Aspatria's intents were clear and certain. But she knew that she must
wait until the spring brought her majority and her freedom.
One frosty day, near Christmas, as Brune was returning from Dalton, he
heard himself called in a loud, cheerful voice. He was passing
Seat-Ketel, and he soon saw Harry Ketel coming quickly toward him.
Harry wore a splendid scarlet uniform; and the white snow beneath his
feet, and the dark green pines between which he walked, made it all
the more splendid by their contrast. Brune had not seen Harry for
five years; but they had been companions through their boyhood, and
their memories were stored with the pleasant hours they had spent
together.
Brune passed that night, and many subsequent ones, with his old
friend; and when Harry went back to his regiment he took with him a
certainty that Brune would soon follow. In fact, Harry had found his
old companion in that mood which is ready to accept the first opening
as the gift of fate. Brune found there was a commission to be bought
in the Household Foot-Guards, and he was well able to pay for it.
Indeed, Brune was by no means a poor man; his father had left him
seven thousand pounds, and his share of the farm's proceeds had been
constantly added to it.
Aspatria was delighted. She might now go to London in Brune's care.
They discussed the matter constantly, and began to make the
preparations necessary for the change. But affairs were not then
arranged by steam and electricity, and the letters relating to the
purchase and transfer of Brune's commission occupied some months in
their transit to and fro; although Brune did not rely upon the
postman's idea of the practicability of the roads.
Aspatria's correspondence was also uncertain and unsatisfactory
for some time. She had at first no guide to a school but the
advertisements in the London papers which Harry sent to his friend.
But one night Brune, without any special intention, named the matter
to Mrs. Ketel; and that lady was able to direct Aspatria to an
excellent school in Richmond, near London. And as she was much more
favourably situated for a quick settlement of the affair, she
undertook the necessary correspondence.
Will was not ignorant of these movements, but Alice induced him to be
passive in them. "No one can then blame us, Will, whatever happens."
And as Will and Alice were extremely sensitive to public opinion, this
was a good consideration. Besides Alice, not unnaturally, wished to
have the Seat to herself; so that Aspatria's and Brune's wishes fitted
admirably into her own desires, and it gave her a kind of selfish
pleasure to forward them.
The ninth of March was Aspatria's twenty-first birthday; and it was to
her a very important anniversary, for she received as its gift her
freedom and her fortune. There was no hitch or trouble in its transfer
from Will to herself. Honour and integrity were in the life-blood of
William Anneys, honesty and justice the very breath of his nostrils.
Aspatria's fortune had been guarded with a super-sensitive care; and
when years gave her its management, Will surrendered it cheerfully to
her control.
Fortunately, the school selected by Mrs. Ketel satisfied Will
thoroughly; and Brune's commission in the Foot-Guards was in
honourable accord with the highest traditions and spirit of the dales.
For the gigantic and physically handsome men of these mountain
valleys have been for centuries considered the finest material for
those regiments whose duty it is to guard the persons and the homes of
royalty. Brune had only followed in the steps of a great number of his
ancestors.
In the beginning of April, Aspatria left Seat-Ambar for London,--left
forever all the pettiness of her house life, chairs and tables, sewing
and meals, and the useless daily labour that has to be continually
done over again. And at the last Will was very tender with her, and
even Alice did her best to make the parting days full of hope and
kindness. As for the journey, there was no anxiety; Brune was to
travel with his sister, and see her safely within her new home.
Yet neither of them left the old home without some tears. Would they
ever see again those great, steadfast hills, that purify those who
walk upon them; ever dwell again within the dear old house, that had
not been builded, but had grown with the family it had sheltered,
through a thousand years? They hardly spoke to each other, as they
drove through the sweet valleys, where the sunshine laid a gold on the
green, and the warm south-wind gently rocked the daisies, and the
lark's song was like a silvery water-fall up in the sky.
But they were young; and, oh, the rich significance of the word
"young" when the heart is young as well as the body, when the thoughts
are not doubts, and when the eyes look not backward, but only forward,
into a bright future!