KENELM did indeed find a huge pile of letters and notes on reaching
his forsaken apartment in Mayfair; many of them merely invitations for
days long past, none of them of interest except two from Sir Peter,
three from his mother, and one from Tom Bowles.
Sir Peter's were short. In the first he gently scolded Kenelm for
going away without communicating any address; and stated the
acquaintance he had formed with Gordon, the favourable impression that
young gentleman had made on him, the transfer of the L20,000 and the
invitation given to Gordon, the Traverses, and Lady Glenalvon. The
second, dated much later, noted the arrival of his invited guests,
dwelt with warmth unusual to Sir Peter on the attractions of Cecilia,
and took occasion to refer, not the less emphatically because as it
were incidentally, to the sacred promise which Kenelm had given him
never to propose to a young lady until the case had been submitted to
the examination and received the consent of Sir Peter. "Come to
Exmundham, and if I do not give my consent to propose to Cecilia
Travers hold me a tyrant and rebel."
Lady Chillingly's letters were much longer. They dwelt more
complainingly on his persistence in eccentric habits; so exceedingly
unlike other people, quitting London at the very height of the season,
going without even a servant nobody knew where: she did not wish to
wound his feelings; but still those were not the ways natural to a
young gentleman of station. If he had no respect for himself, he
ought to have some consideration for his parents, especially his poor
mother. She then proceeded to comment on the elegant manners of
Leopold Travers, and the good sense and pleasant conversation of
Chillingly Gordon, a young man of whom any mother might be proud.
From that subject she diverged to mildly querulous references to
family matters. Parson John had expressed himself very rudely to Mr.
Chillingly Gordon upon some book by a foreigner,--Comte or Count, or
some such name,--on which, so far as she could pretend to judge, Mr.
Gordon had uttered some very benevolent sentiments about humanity,
which, in the most insolent manner, Parson John had denounced as an
attack on religion. But really Parson John was too High Church for
her. Having thus disposed of Parson John, she indulged some ladylike
wailings on the singular costume of the three Miss Chillinglys. They
had been asked by Sir Peter, unknown to her--so like him--to meet
their guests; to meet Lady Glenalvon and Miss Travers, whose dress was
so perfect (here she described their dress); and they came in
pea-green with pelerines of mock blonde, and Miss Sally with corkscrew
ringlets and a wreath of jessamine, "which no girl after eighteen
would venture to wear."
"But, my dear," added her ladyship, "your poor father's family are
certainly great oddities. I have more to put up with than any one
knows. I do my best to carry it off. I know my duties, and will do
them."
Family grievances thus duly recorded and lamented, Lady Chillingly
returned to her guests.
Evidently unconscious of her husband's designs on Cecilia, she
dismissed her briefly: "A very handsome young lady, though rather too
blonde for her taste, and certainly with an air /distingue/." Lastly,
she enlarged on the extreme pleasure she felt on meeting again the
friend of her youth, Lady Glenalvon.
"Not at all spoilt by the education of the great world, which, alas!
obedient to the duties of wife and mother, however little my
sacrifices are appreciated, I have long since relinquished. Lady
Glenalvon suggests turning that hideous old moat into a fernery,--a
great improvement. Of course your poor father makes objections."
Tom's letter was written on black-edged paper, and ran thus:--
DEAR SIR,--Since I had the honour to see you in London I have had a
sad loss: my poor uncle is no more. He died very suddenly after a
hearty supper. One doctor says it was apoplexy, another valvular
disease of the heart. He has left me his heir, after providing for
his sister: no one had an idea that he had saved so much money. I am
quite a rich man now. And I shall leave the veterinary business,
which of late--since I took to reading, as you kindly advised--is not
much to my liking The principal corn-merchant here has offered to
take me into partnership; and, from what I can see, it will be a very
good thing and a great rise in life. But, sir, I can't settle to it
at present; I can't settle, as I would wish to anything. I know you
will not laugh at me when I say I have a strange longing to travel for
a while. I have been reading books of travels, and they get into my
head more than any other books. But I don't think I could leave the
country with a contented heart till I have had just another look at
you know whom,--just to see her, and know she is happy. I am sure I
could shake hands with Will and kiss her little one without a wrong
thought. What do you say to that, dear sir? You promised to write to
me about her. But I have not heard from you. Susey, the little girl
with the flower-ball, has had a loss too: the poor old man she lived
with died within a few days of my dear uncle's decease. Mother moved
here, as I think you know, when the forge at Graveleigh was sold; and
she is going to take Susey to live with her. She is quite fond of
Susey. Pray let me hear from you soon; and do, dear sir, give me your
advice about travelling--and about Her. You see I should like Her to
think of me more kindly when I am in distant parts.
I remain, dear sir,
Your grateful servant,
T. BOWLES.
P.S.--Miss Travers has sent me Will's last remittance. There is very
little owed me now; so they must be thriving. I hope she is not
overworked.
On returning by the train that evening, Kenelm went to the house of
Will Somers. The shop was already closed, but he was admitted by a
trusty servant-maid to the parlour, where he found them all at supper,
except indeed the baby, who had long since retired to the cradle, and
the cradle had been removed upstairs. Will and Jessie were very proud
when Kenelm invited himself to share their repast, which, though
simple, was by no means a bad one. When the meal was over and the
supper things removed, Kenelm drew his chair near to the glass door
which led into a little garden very neatly kept--for it was Will's
pride to attend to it before he sat down to his more professional
work. The door was open, and admitted the coolness of the starlit air
and the fragrance of the sleeping flowers.
"You have a pleasant home here, Mrs. Somers."
"We have, indeed, and know how to bless him we owe it to."
"I am rejoiced to think that. How often when God designs a special
kindness to us He puts the kindness into the heart of a
fellow-man,--perhaps the last fellow-man we should have thought of;
but in blessing him we thank God who inspired him. Now, my dear
friends, I know that you all three suspect me of being the agent whom
God chose for His benefits. You fancy that it was from me came the
loan which enabled you to leave Graveleigh and settle here. You are
mistaken,--you look incredulous."
"It could not be the Squire," exclaimed Jessie. "Miss Travers assured
me that it was neither he nor herself. Oh, it must be you, sir. I
beg pardon, but who else could it be?"
"Your husband shall guess. Suppose, Will, that you had behaved ill to
some one who was nevertheless dear to you, and on thinking over it
afterwards felt very sorry and much ashamed of yourself, and suppose
that later you had the opportunity and the power to render a service
to that person, do you think you would do it?"
"I should be a bad man if I did not."
"Bravo! And supposing that when the person you thus served came to
know it was you who rendered the service, he did not feel thankful, he
did not think it handsome of you, thus to repair any little harm he
might have done you before, but became churlish and sore and
cross-grained, and with a wretched false pride said that because he
had offended you once he resented your taking the liberty of
befriending him now, would you not think that person an ungrateful
fellow; ungrateful not only to you his fellow-man,--that is of less
moment,--but ungrateful to the God who put it into your heart to be
His human agent in the benefit received?"
"Well, sir, yes, certainly," said Will, with all the superior
refinement of his intellect to that of Jessie, unaware of what Kenelm
was driving at; while Jessie, pressing her hands tightly together,
turned pale, and with a frightened hurried glance towards Will's face,
answered, impulsively,--
"Oh, Mr. Chillingly, I hope you are not thinking, not speaking, of Mr.
Bowles?"
"Whom else should I think or speak of?"
Will rose nervously from his chair, all his features writhing.
"Sir, sir, this is a bitter blow,--very bitter, very."
Jessie rushed to Will, flung her arms round him and sobbed. Kenelm
turned quietly to old Mrs. Somers, who had suspended the work on which
since supper she had been employed, knitting socks for the baby,--
"My dear Mrs. Somers, what is the good of being a grandmother and
knitting socks for baby grandchildren, if you cannot assure those
silly children of yours that they are too happy in each other to
harbour any resentment against a man who would have parted them, and
now repents?"
Somewhat to Kenelm's admiration, I dare not say surprise, old Mrs.
Somers, thus appealed to, rose from her seat, and, with a dignity of
thought or of feeling no one could have anticipated from the quiet
peasant woman, approached the wedded pair, lifted Jessie's face with
one hand, laid the other on Will's head, and said, "If you don't long
to see Mr. Bowles again and say 'The Lord bless you, sir!' you don't
deserve the Lord's blessing upon you." Therewith she went back to her
seat, and resumed her knitting.
"Thank Heaven, we have paid back the best part of the loan," said
Will, in very agitated tones, "and I think, with a little pinching,
Jessie, and with selling off some of the stock, we might pay the rest;
and then,"--and then he turned to Kenelm,--"and then, sir, we will"
(here a gulp) "thank Mr. Bowles."
"This don't satisfy me at all, Will," answered Kenelm; "and since I
helped to bring you two together, I claim the right to say I would
never have done so could I have guessed you could have trusted your
wife so little as to allow a remembrance of Mr. Bowles to be a thought
of pain. You did not feel humiliated when you imagined that it was to
me you owed some moneys which you have been honestly paying off.
Well, then, I will lend you whatever trifle remains to discharge your
whole debts to Mr. Bowles, so that you may sooner be able to say to
him, 'Thank you.' But between you and me, Will, I think you will be a
finer fellow and a manlier fellow if you decline to borrow that trifle
of me; if you feel you would rather say 'Thank you' to Mr. Bowles,
without the silly notion that when you have paid him his money you owe
him nothing for his kindness."
Will looked away irresolutely. Kenelm went on: "I have received a
letter from Mr. Bowles to-day. He has come into a fortune, and thinks
of going abroad for a time; but before he goes, he says he should like
to shake hands with Will, and be assured by Jessie that all his old
rudeness is forgiven. He had no notion that I should blab about the
loan: he wished that to remain always a secret. But between friends
there need be no secrets. What say you, Will? As head of this
household, shall Mr. Bowles be welcomed here as a friend or not?"
"Kindly welcome," said old Mrs. Somers, looking up from the socks.
"Sir," said Will, with sudden energy, "look here; you have never been
in love, I dare say. If you had, you would not be so hard on me. Mr.
Bowles was in love with my wife there. Mr. Bowles is a very fine man,
and I am a cripple."
"Oh, Will! Will!" cried Jessie.
"But I trust my wife with my whole heart and soul; and, now that the
first pang is over, Mr. Bowles shall be, as mother says, kindly
welcome,--heartily welcome."
"Shake hands. Now you speak like a man, Will. I hope to bring Bowles
here to supper before many days are over."
And that night Kenelm wrote to Mr. Bowles:
MY DEAR TOM,--Come and spend a few days with me at Cromwell Lodge,
Moleswich. Mr. and Mrs. Somers wish much to see and to thank you. I
could not remain forever degraded in order to gratify your whim. They
would have it that I bought their shop, etc., and I was forced in
self-defence to say who it was. More on this and on travels when you
come.
Your true friend,
K. C.