THE MEETING.
"The next morning I arrived in York, and hastened to the house of Mr.
Mornington. I found the dear old gentleman ill in bed, but in his usual
excellent spirits.
"On expressing my concern for his illness, he laughed at my long face;
told me it was a trifle, and he should soon be well again. Alas, he was
not a true prophet! In a few weeks I followed my worthy friend to his
grave; and found myself at the age of one-and-twenty, my own master,
and sole heir to his large property.
"The joy felt at this unexpected good fortune was more than
counterbalanced by the loss of the generous donor. Gladly would I have
resigned the wealth he so nobly bequeathed me, if by so doing I could
have recalled the dear old man to life. I was detained for several
months in York, settling my affairs. I lost no time, however, in
acquainting Cornelius, by letter, of my good fortune. I took this
opportunity of mentioning my attachment to his sister, and urged him,
if he valued my happiness, to plead with her in my behalf. His answer,
though kind, was far from satisfactory to a young and ardent lover.
"He informed me that Charlotte was not insensible to my passion; and
that he knew that she entertained from me a sincere esteem; but it was
entirely out of her power to accept any offer of marriage without the
consent of her guardian; or she would lose the property bequeathed to
her by her father; who had left this stringent clause in his will.
"For himself, he continued, nothing would give him greater pleasure,
than to see his beloved sister united to a man whom he loved, and whom
he considered worthy of her regard; particularly, as he found his own
health daily declining, and was about to take a journey to the south of
France, in the hope of deriving some benefit from change of climate and
scene.
"He urged me to return immediately to London; to plead my own cause
with Charlotte, and to spend a few days with him, before he left
England; as he felt, that it was more than probable, that we might
never meet again.
"The last mournful sentence decided me, and the next morning found me
on the road to London; and I determined to take Moncton Park in my
route, and seek a reconciliation with Sir Alexander. After what had
passed between me and Miss Moncton, I flattered myself that this would
be an easy matter.
"I was no longer a poor orphan boy, dependent upon his bounty; but a
well-educated, wealthy man, whose fortune was equal, if not greater
than his own. There was no favour I could ask, or that he could bestow,
beyond the renewal of that friendship which formed the delight of my
boyhood, and of which I had been so suddenly deprived.
"As I rode up the noble avenue of oaks which led to the Hall, I felt so
confident of success, so vain of my altered fortunes, so proud of the
noble horse I rode, that my spirits grew buoyant, and my cheeks glowed
with anticipated pleasure.
"'Is Sir Alexander at home?' I eagerly demanded of the liveried servant
that opened the door.
"'He is, sir. What name shall I send up?' I gave him my card, and was
shown into the library, while he carried it up to his master.
"Years had fled away, since I last stood within that room, a happy
thoughtless boy. How vividly did every book and picture recall the
blessed hours I had passed there, with Margaret and Alice, when the
weather was wet, and we could not play abroad! It was in this
apartment, with its carved oak wainscoting and antique windows of
stained glass, in which we generally held our revels, turning over the
huge folios in search of pictures.
"There was the Book of Martyrs, with all its revolting details of human
bigotry; and its dreadful exhibitions of human endurance amidst scorn
and agony. On these we gazed in mysterious awe; and as we turned over
the horrible pages, we said to one another, 'that we were glad we were
not Christians in those days.'
"Then, there was Descartes' ancient philosophy. A huge tome, full of
quaint pictures of gods and goddesses, and angels and devils, on which
we were never tired or gazing; infinitely preferring the latter, with
their curious tails and horns, to the former; whom we called, 'Fat
lazy-looking children with wings.' 'Goldsmith's World,' 'Buffon's
Natural History,' and the whole family of Encyclopedias, with their
numerous prints, were among our chief favourites, and helped to beguile
the long wet day. Sir Alexander often assisted himself at these
exhibitions, and seemed as much pleased with showing us the pictures as
we were in looking at them.
"From the cherished memories of former years, I was recalled by the
entrance of the servant, who, with an air of rude familiarity, told
me--'that Sir Alexander Moncton would never be at home to _Mister
Philip Mornington_.'
"Thunder-struck with this unexpected blow, and writhing under a bitter
sense of humiliation, I affected an air of contemptuous indifference
and turned to depart; when a light grasp was laid upon my arm, and I
encountered the dark soul-lighted eyes of Margaret Moncton, moistened
with tears, and fixed upon me with a gaze of mournful interest,
"'Stay, Mr. Mornington. Dear, Philip! stay, I beseech you, for one
little moment.'
"'Let me go, Miss Moncton. You deceived me into the belief that my
reception would have been very different--I feel that I have no
business here.'
"'That was your own fault, in deferring the _now_ of to-day, to the
_future_ of the unknown to-morrow,' said Margaret, sadly. 'But you must
stay; I insist upon your hearing me speak a few words before you leave
this house.'
"I remained silent and passive, and she continued--'There was a time,
Philip, when your sister Margaret would not have asked anything of you
in vain.' The tears flowed fast down her pale cheeks, and I felt the
small hand which lay on mine tremble violently.
"'Dear Miss Moncton,' said I, gently leading her to a seat, and taking
one beside her, 'you must make some allowance for mortified pride and
wounded feelings. Time has not in the least diminished the affection
and respect I have ever felt for you, and which your present kindness
is not at all likely to lessen. I should, however, be deeply concerned,
if your condescension should draw down upon you the displeasure of your
father.'
"'Philip, I never do aught which I should be ashamed of my father
witnessing. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, than to see him
enter this room; and it is to lead you to him, that brought me here.'
"'He has once forbidden me his presence,' cried I, rising from my seat;
'I shall seek an interview with him no more.'
"'Let me seek it for you.'
"'What good would it answer?'
"Can you ask that question, Mr. Mornington? Remember all you owe to my
father's kindness. I do not want to reproach you with benefits which he
felt pleasure in conferring. But surely some feeling of gratitude is
due from one whom he loved for so many years as a son; whom I am
certain he still loves; whom, if he could once see, would be as dear to
him as ever.'
"'Could I feel that his anger was just, there is no concession, however
great, Miss Moncton, that I would hesitate to make: I love and revere
Sir Alexander, but he has taken up idle prejudices against me, and I am
too proud--obstinate, if you will--to ask his forgiveness for what I
never can look upon as a fault.'
"'One would think, Philip, that you were a Moncton, so hard and
obdurate are their hearts,' said Margaret, weeping afresh. 'How gladly
would I be the peacemaker, and reconcile you to each other, but you
love strife for its own sake--are too proud to acknowledge an error.
Philip,' she cried, passionately, 'do you remember my mother?'
"She had struck a chord which always vibrated intensely in my heart.
'How can I ever forget her? And yet, Miss Moncton, dear Miss Moncton, I
do not wonder at your asking the question.'
"As I said this tears rushed to my own eyes, as a thousand sad
recollections crowded into my mind. The mournful chamber--the bed of
death--the calm, sweet face of the expiring saint; and her last solemn
injunction, for me to look upon her grave when I came to be a man, and
remember her who had loved me as a son. Had I done this? Oh, no! The
world had obliterated her pure and holy image from my mind, and all her
tenderness and love had been forgotten.
"I stood there before her daughter, whose mind was a perfect transcript
of her own, a stricken, self-condemned creature, overcome by emotions
which I struggled in vain to repress.
"Margaret perceived the advantage she had gained, and taking my passive
hand led me from the room.
"Slowly we paced, up the marble staircase into the drawing-room, where
we found Sir Alexander reading at a table. He did not raise his head as
we entered; and I could not help remarking the great change which a few
years had effected in his appearance. His fine chestnut hair was nearly
gray, his cheeks had lost the rich vermilion tint which had always
given such lustre to his fine dark eyes, and clear olive complexion. He
was much thinner, and his lofty figure had taken a decided stoop
between the shoulders. The handsome, generous baronet was but the wreck
of what he once had been.
"'Papa,' said Margaret, stepping forward, and laying her small white
hand upon his shoulder, 'I have taken the liberty of introducing a very
old friend.'
"The baronet raised his eyes. The blood rushed into his pale face, as
he replied with great asperity of look and tone, 'Margaret, you have
taken an unfair advantage, and abused the confidence I reposed in you;
I did not expect this from you.'
"'Dearest father, you have suffered my cousin Theophilus to prejudice
you against one whom you once loved--whom my dear mother loved: let him
speak for himself.'
"'Well, sir,' said the Baronet, holding out his hand, 'what have you to
say in extenuation of your past conduct? You found it convenient, no
doubt, to forget an old friend.'
"'My excellent, kind benefactor,' I cried, pressing his hand warmly
between my own, 'how can you imagine me guilty of such base
ingratitude?'
"'I judge your feelings, young man, by deeds, not by words. It is not
for a boyish act of indiscretion I blame you. You thrashed an insolent
lad of your own age for insulting you; and in your place I would have
done the same. To appease his wounded pride, I demanded of you an
apology, as the lad was my guest and near kinsman--no very great
sacrifice of pride, one would have thought, to a penniless pensioner on
my bounty. This, you audaciously refused, and, without waiting for my
anger to cool (for I was not acquainted at the time with the real
circumstances of the case) you abandoned your home, and sought
protection in the house of my enemy--a man who had thwarted me in every
way which lay in his power. His favour you gained by traducing your
benefactor and friend; and you now come to me, after the lapse of
years, to make a boast of your wealth. Philip Mornington!' he cried,
rising from his seat, and drawing himself up to his full height, 'I
loved you as a spirited, independent boy: I despise you, as a wealthy,
treacherous, vain-glorious man!'
"'Dear papa,' said Margaret, greatly agitated, 'you cannot mean what
you say.'
"'I do mean what I say. My words are plain and straightforward; let him
refute them if he can.'
"'To such accusations as you have brought against me, Sir Alexander,
there can be but one answer: they are false! I will not, however,
lessen myself by attempting to vindicate my conduct from such base
calumnies, but leave it to time to convince you of your error, and
prove my integrity.'
"Without waiting for his reply, I left the room, with a bearing as
haughty and inflexible as his own, and flinging myself into the saddle,
rode from the Hall. Disgusted with myself for having yielded to the
entreaties of my amiable foster-sister, I could not master my
indignation sufficiently to call at the Lodge, but pursued my journey
to town with a heavy heart.
"From Cornelius and his sister I received the most cordial and
affectionate welcome; but my pleasure was greatly damped by the bad
state of my friend's health: he looked so thin and consumptive, that I
apprehended the worst. This impression gradually wore off; but a few
months confirmed my fears. He was to commence his journey to Dover
early the next morning; and after passing a delightful evening in
company with his aunt and Charlotte, I rose to take leave, as I well
knew that my invalid friend retired at an early hour to bed.
"'Do not go to-night, Philip,' said he. 'It is the last we shall spend
for a long time together. I wish to have a friendly chat with you in my
dressing-room. Charlotte will make one of the party.'
"In a few minutes we were comfortably seated in the snug little room,
before a cheerful fire. My friend in his easy-chair, wrapped in his
dressing-gown, and my own beautiful Charlotte seated on a
gaily-embroidered ottoman at his feet.
"'Here, I feel myself at home,' said Cornelius, taking a hand of each,
pressing them warmly between his own. 'How much I dread this journey!
how painful it is to part with all we love on earth!'
"'Dearest brother, you will return to us quite strong and well after
breathing the warm air of the south,' said Charlotte, who could never
be brought to consider her brother in any danger. 'When we meet in the
spring, you win laugh at your present fears, and we shall be so happy
together.'
"Cornelius smiled faintly. 'I hope it may be so, my sweet Charlotte; to
that hope I cling, though I feel it daily becoming more feeble. Nor
would I leave England, did I not consider it my duty to embrace every
means which may tend to restore me to health and usefulness. But if I
should never return, my little Lady Bird, the world will run on as
merrily as heretofore. I should only be missed by a few faithful
hearts.'
"Poor Charlotte did not answer. Her head sank upon his knee; and I
thought I heard the tears, one by one, fall upon her rich silk dress.
"'Do not anticipate grief, my little sister,' said he, laying his hand
caressingly upon her drooping head. 'Let us be happy to-night, for we
know not what the morrow may bring forth. I wanted to speak to you and
Philip upon a subject very near my heart.'
"After a short pause, he continued with a lively, cheerful voice--'You
and Philip love one another; nay, do not turn away, Charlotte; there
ought to be no shame in confessing a virtuous attachment to a worthy
object.'
"Charlotte raised her eyes, moist with tears, and tried to smile; but
her head sank back to its resting place, and her blushing face was
hidden on his knee.
"'Now I am perfectly satisfied of the warmth and sincerity of your
affections, and will do all in my power to bring them to a happy issue;
but there are some difficulties in the way which must first be
surmounted, before you can hope to realize your wishes. You have
wealth, Philip, and moral worth; these ought to be sufficient to
satisfy the objections of the most fastidious. But your birth is
obscure, and your connexions not such as most old families would wish
to incorporate with their own. You will ask me how I came by this
knowledge. It does not matter; for these worldly objections have no
weight with me. It was, however, told to me by one well acquainted with
your history--who, as a guardian to Charlotte, will, I fear, never
consent to your marriage.'
"'There are few persons with whom I am sufficiently intimate to obtain
this knowledge,' I cried. 'His name--tell me his name.'
"'Robert Moncton--Sir Alexander's cousin and man of business.'
"I felt a cold shudder thrill through me. The hopes lately so gay and
buoyant shrunk back faded and blackened to my heart. 'Yet why should I
fear this man?' I argued; but I did fear him--like the ghost of the
dead Cæsar in the camp of Brutus: he was my evil genius. I turned very
faint and asked for a glass of water.
"Charlotte gave it to me with a trembling hand. The brother and sister
exchanged glances of surprise; suspicion was aroused by my emotion.
"'Strange!' said Charlotte, musingly: 'he was always kind to my brother
and me. What have you to say against him?'
"'Not much; but I have a secret antipathy, a horror of this man, though
I never saw him but once, and that when quite a boy. I had a quarrel
with his son when a lad, which produced a rupture between Sir Alexander
and me, and neither father nor son ever forgave the imagined injury.'
"Charlotte looked thoughtful. It was evident that she was fond of her
guardian; while Cornelius continued the conversation, which was to me
both painful and embarrassing.
"I know Mr. Moncton to be implacable when he takes a dislike, and
considers himself ill-used, but we always have regarded him as a just
and honest man. The circumstances at which you have hinted, and which I
am rather surprised, that with all our brotherly intercourse, you never
mentioned before, will not increase your chance of success in gaining
him over to your wishes. But if I live, Philip, you will have little to
fear from his opposition. Charlotte and myself are both above the
common prejudices of the world, and prize you for your worth, which we
consider more than places you on an equality with us, and my little
sister here (and he fondly patted her head) has too high a sense of
honour to encourage hopes which she never meant to realize.'
"I took Charlotte's hand--our eyes met. Her face was again hidden on
her brother's knee; but my drooping heart began to revive, and I turned
to listen to the long harangue of my good friend with more interest and
attention, especially, as Charlotte's small white hand remained firmly
clasped in mine, to repay me for its dullness and prolixity.
"Now, my advice to you both is, not to enter into any engagement, and
to keep the matter of your affections known only to yourselves.
Confidence reposed in a third party is always hazardous, and generally
betrayed. This will lull Moncton's suspicions, for he can greatly annoy
you, should you marry Charlotte without his consent, before her
minority expires. Her property, which is considerable, would then go to
a distant relation.'
"'I have enough to support us both handsomely--why should our union be
delayed on that score?' I cried.
"'Softly, my dear friend. Lovers always talk in that strain--husbands
think differently. Why should Charlotte lose her just inheritance to
gratify the ardour of your passion? You are both young: Charlotte far
too young to marry. Four years is not such a great while to wait. At
the expiration of that time you can meet on equal terms, without making
such an enormous sacrifice. Am I not right?'
"We said he was, and tried to think so; but I am certain that in the
estimation of both his listeners, that that four years which seemed to
him so short, with us spread over a period as long as the life of
Methusalah. We tried to look forward, but shrunk back to the present.
Everything in prospective looked cold, blank--nay, even ugly and old,
at the end of the long vista of four years.
"We promised, however, to abide by his advice. I was sad and
low-spirited; and Charlotte, pleading a bad head-ache, kissed her
brother, received one from me, or, what in _his_ estimation, only
passed for _one_, and retired in tears, and I felt that the joy of my
heart had vanished.
"'Do not look so grave, Philip,' said my worthy friend: 'you will
overcome all these difficulties.'
"I shook my head, and sighed doubtfully.
"'I am sure you will. I have a presentiment to that effect. I saw you
in a dream last night, surrounded by a thousand dangers. As fast as you
got out of some trouble, you fell into a worse, and after I had given
you up for lost, you were rescued from the fangs of a tiger by a mere
lad, who led you back to Charlotte, and joined your hands.'
"He told this with such earnestness, that I, who was no believer in
signs and omens, laughed outright.
"He looked serious--almost offended.
"'You forget,' he said, 'that when man draws near his end, God often
opens the eyes of the soul, and reveals not only what is, but what
shall be. Oh, Philip, you who are so eager to win the affections of a
timid girl, how can you be so indifferent to the love of God?'
"'Nervous debility has rendered you superstitious, Cornelius. I have no
faith in the religious cant of the present day, in priests or
priestcraft.'
"This was my case two years ago. I was young and strong then. In the
possession of wealth and all those temporal blessings, for which wiser
and better men have to toil through a long life, and seldom obtain. The
world was before me, and death far distant, in my thoughts. But now,
the world is receding, and death is very near. You start! Have not you
discovered that truth before? Soon, very soon, nothing will remain for
me, but that blessed hope which I now prize as the only true riches. I
am happy in the prospect which I know awaits me, and consider those
only miserable to whom God is a stranger, and the love of the Saviour
unknown.'
"His words affected me strangely, and yet I felt that they were
distasteful. Sorrow had not taught me the knowledge of self. I had yet
to learn that religion alone can do that. My soul was grovelling in the
dust; my thoughts wholly engrossed by the world. Religion was to me a
well-invented fable, skillfully constructed, and admirably told, being
beautiful and artistic in a literary point of view, but altogether too
shallow to satisfy the reason of a clever fellow like me. Oh! how
repugnant are its pure precepts to those whose hearts are blinded by
vanity; who live but for the pleasures of the day, and never heed the
to-morrow in the skies.
"I sat down at a table near my friend, and began hastily to turn over
the pages of a volume which lay before me. It contained the admirable
writings of the Rev. Robert Hall. I pettishly closed the book, and
pushed it from me.
"As I raised my head, our eyes met. He evidently read my thoughts.
"'I do not wish to lecture you, Philip, nor do I condemn you. Your
mind, in its present unawakened state, cannot understand the sublime
truths you affect to despise. The blind see not; they cannot comprehend
the light, and we are not surprised that they stumble and fall. But I
love you too well, Philip, to wish you to remain in this state of
mental darkness. Read the Bible with the eyes of faith; think and pray,
and the true light will dawn upon your soul, as it has on mine. Let not
the ravings of fanaticism, nor the vulgarity of low cant, frighten you
from the enjoyment of the highest and noblest privilege granted to
man--the capacity of holding converse with his God. And, now, farewell,
my dear friend. I shall see you again in the morning; think over twice
what I have said to you before you go to sleep.'
"I retired to my chamber, but not to rest. I sat before the fire,
musing over, and trying to feel an interest in, the advice of my
friend; I knew it was good; I felt it was right and very natural, for
Cornelius, in his diseased state, to regard it as a subject of vital
importance, to cherish it as the last hope which could beguile his
mind, and reconcile him, to the awful and mysterious change which
awaited him. 'Poor Cornelius,' said I, 'dying men catch at straws! Will
your straw float you safely across the waves of the dark river? I fear
not.' And in this mood I went to bed, dreamt of Charlotte, and awoke in
the morning to regret the long years which must intervene before she
could be mine."
END OF VOL. I.
LONDON:
Printed by Shulze and Co., 13, Poland Street.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Monctons: A Novel, Volume I, by Susanna Moodie