SIR BOOTH IN A PASSION.
DAYS passed, during which Cleve Verney paid stolen visits at Malory,
more cautiously managed than ever; and nearly every afternoon did the
good people of Cardyllian see him walk the green, to and fro, with the
Etherage girls, so that the subject began to be canvassed very gravely,
and even Miss Charity was disposed to think that he certainly _did_ like
Agnes, and confided to her friend, Mrs. Brindley, of "The Cottage," that
if Aggie married, _she_ should _give up_. _Nothing_ could induce _her_,
Miss Charity, to marry, she solemnly assured her friends.
And I must do that spinster the justice to say, that there was not the
faintest flavour of sour grapes in the acerbity with which she
pronounced against the "shocking folly of girls marrying," for she might
undoubtedly have been married, having had in her youth several
unexceptionable offers, none of which had ever moved her.
I know not what hopes Sir Booth may have founded upon his conversation
with Cleve Verney. Men in the Baronet's predicament nurse their hopes
fondly, and their mustard seeds grow rapidly into great trees, in whose
branches they shelter their families, and roost themselves. He grew
gracious at times in the contemplation of brilliant possibilities, and
one day, to her amazement and consternation, opened the matter briefly
to Miss Sheckleton, who fancied that she was discovered, and he on the
point of exploding, and felt as if she were going to faint.
Happily for her, he fancied that Cleve must have seen Margaret
accidentally during some of his political knight-errantries in the
county which he had contested with Sir Booth. We know, as well as Miss
Sheckleton, how this really was.
Sir Booth's dreams, however, were broken with a crash. To Miss Anne
Sheckleton came a letter from Sir Booth's attorneys, informing the
Baronet that Mr. Kiffyn Fulke Verney had just served them with a notice
which seemed to threaten a wantonly vexatious and expensive proceeding,
and then desired to know what course, having detailed the respective
consequences of each, he would wish them to take.
Now Sir Booth broke into one of his frenzies, called up Miss Sheckleton,
damned and cursed the whole Verney family, excommunicated them, and
made the walls of Malory ring with the storm and thunder he launched at
the heads of the ancient race who had built them.
Scared and pale Miss Anne Sheckleton withdrew.
"My dear, something has happened: he has had a letter from his law
people, and Mr. Kiffyn Verney has directed, I think, some unexpected
proceedings. How I wish they would stop these miserable lawsuits, and
leave your papa at peace. Your papa's attorneys think they can gain
nothing by worrying him, and it _is_ so unfortunate just now."
So spoke Miss Sheckleton, who had found Margaret, with her bullfinch and
her squirrels, in that pretty but melancholy room which is darkened by
the old forest, through whose shafted stems shadowy perspectives open,
and there, as in the dimness of a monastic library, she was busy over
the illumination of her vellum Psalter, with gold and ultramarine, and
all other vivid pigments.
Margaret stood up, and looked in her face rather pale, and with her
small hand pressed to her heart.
"He's _very_ angry," added Miss Sheckleton, with a dark look, and a
nod.
"Are we going to leave this?" inquired the girl in almost a whisper.
"He did not say; I fancy not. No, he'd have said so the first thing,"
answered the old lady.
"Well, we can do nothing; it can't be helped, I suppose?" said Miss
Margaret, looking down very sadly on her mediaeval blazonry.
"Nothing, my dear! nothing on earth. No one can be more anxious that all
this kind of thing should cease, than Cleve Verney, as you know; but
what can even _he_ do?" said Miss Sheckleton.
Margaret looked through the window, down the sylvan glade, and sighed.
"His uncle, Kiffyn Verney," resumed Anne Sheckleton, "is such a
disagreeable, spiteful man, and such a feud has been between them, I
really don't see how it is to end; but Cleve, you know, is so clever,
and so devoted, I'm sure he'll find some way."
Margaret sighed again, and said,--
"Papa, I suppose, is _very_ angry."
I think Sir Booth Fanshawe was the only person on earth whom that
spirited girl really feared. I'm afraid there was not much good in that
old man, and that most of the things I have heard of him were true.
Unlike other violent men, he was not easily placable; and generally,
when it was not very troublesome, remembered and executed his threats.
She remembered dimly scenes between him and her dead mother. She
remembered well her childish dread of his severity, and her fear of his
eye and his voice had never left her.
Miss Sheckleton just lifted her fingers in the air, and raised her eyes
to the ceiling, with a little shake of her head.
Margaret sighed again. I suppose she was thinking of that course of true
love that never yet ran smooth, upon which the freightage of her life
was ventured.
Her spinster friend looked on her sad, pale face, gazing dreamily into
the forest. The solemn shadow of the inevitable, the sorrows of human
life, had now for the first time begun to touch her young face. The old
story was already telling itself to her, in those ominous musical tones
that swell to solemn anthem soon; and sometimes, crash and howl at last
over such wreck, and in such darkness as we shut our eyes and ears upon,
and try to forget.
Old Anne Sheckleton's face saddened at the sight with a beautiful
softness. She laid her thin hand on the girl's shoulder, and then put
her arms about her neck, and kissed her, and said,--"All will come
right, darling, you'll see;" and the girl made answer by another kiss;
and they stood for a minute, hand locked in hand, and the old maid
smiled tenderly, a cheerful smile but pale, and patted her cheek and
nodded, and with another kiss, left the room, with a mournful presage
heavy at her heart.
As she passed, the stern voice of Sir Booth called to her.
"Yes," she answered.
"A word or two," he said, and she went to his room.
"I've been thinking," said he, looking at her steadily and fiercely--had
some suspicion lighted up his mind since he had spoken to her?--"that
young man, Cleve Verney; I believe he's still at Ware. Do you know him?"
"I should know his appearance. I saw him two or three times during that
contest for the county, two years since; but he did not see me, I'm
sure."
This was an evasion, but the vices of slavery always grow up under a
tyranny.
"Well, _Margaret_--does _she_ correspond with any one?" demanded he.
"I can answer for it, positively. Margaret has no correspondence. She
writes to _no_ one," she answered.
"That fellow is still at Ware. So, Christmass Owen told me last
night--a place of the Verneys, at the other side--and he has got a boat.
I should not wonder if he were to come here, trying to see her."
So Sir Booth followed out his hypothesis, and waxed wroth, and more
wroth as he proceeded, and so chafed himself into one of his paroxysms
of temper. I know not what he said; but when she left him, poor Miss
Sheckleton was in tears, and, trembling, told Margaret, that if it were
not for _her_, she would not remain another day in his house. She
related to Margaret what had passed, and said,--
"I almost hope Cleve Verney may not come again while we remain here. I
really don't know what might be the consequence of your papa's meeting
him here, in his present state of exasperation! Of course to Cleve it
would be very little; but your existence, my poor child, would be made
so miserable! And as for me, I tell you frankly, I should be compelled
to leave you. Every one knows what Booth Fanshawe is when he is
angry--how cruel he _can_ be. I know he's your father, my dear, but we
can't be blind to facts, and we both know that his misfortunes have not
improved his temper."
Cleve nevertheless saw the ladies that day, talked with them earnestly
and hurriedly, for Miss Anne Sheckleton was nervous, and miserable till
the interview ended, and submitted to the condition imposed by that
kindly and panic-stricken lady, which was on no account to visit Malory
as heretofore for two or three days, by the end of which time she hoped
Sir Booth's anger and suspicions might have somewhat subsided.