Arthur Hazlehurst, with an aspect graver than his wont, replied to
Harry’s appeal--“It certainly is very unfortunate that you should have
selected last night, of all others, to displease my father; because,
owing to the Crane offer, time is of the greatest importance; but for
that I should not have cared; you would only have had to wait for a
week or two, taking pains to be especially polite and deferential in
the interval, and he would have totally forgotten his anger. As it is,
perhaps I had better speak to him,--he is sure to tell me about the
cotton-spinner, and I can avail myself of that opportunity to come to
the point; and now, if you have nothing better to propose, we’ll go in
to breakfast. Love may possibly destroy the appetite, but a railroad
journey has a directly contrary effect.”
Harry _had_ nothing better to propose--(for a vague suggestion in regard
to punching old Crane’s head, if he (Crane) did not mind what he was
about, could scarcely be considered in the light of a serious, practical
amendment)--so they went in to breakfast accordingly.
This meal appeared to be a most unsatisfactory one to “all who assembled
within those walls;” for, despite the presence of every delicacy of
the season, and a few over, each individual seemed labouring under some
secret sorrow, and a general wet blanket damped, and hung heavy on,
the spirits of the whole party; with the exception, perhaps, of Horace
D’Almayne, who was unusually animated, and watched the proceedings with
a look of quiet penetration.
When the ladies quitted the room, Mr. Crane called Mr. Hazlehurst aside,
and informed him that he wished for the honour of an interview; to which
request that gentleman acceded in his most gracious manner, and they
adjourned together to the library.
Harry, with a significant glance to Arthur to remain on the look out and
watch proceedings, strolled off with Tom on some horse-or-dog-inspecting
pretext, but really to keep himself out of harm’s way till he was
wanted,--so low an estimate had he now acquired of his own diplomatic
abilities.
D’Almayne and Arthur being thus left _tête-à-tête_, the former accosted
the latter after the following fashion:--
“Hazlehurst, _mon cher_, I shall die of _ennui_ if we have many such
_tristes affaires_ as this meal of which we have just partaken, Now,
without being more inquisitive than my neighbours, you cannot suppose
I have remained entirely in the dark in regard to the little amusements
your friends and relations have devised to vary the monotony of life
withal.”
“And the result of these your observations?” inquired Arthur, coldly.
“Is, that the various interests clash, and that delicate dilemmas
innumerable must, ere long, present their horns;--now I, being an
easy-tempered fellow, like to be happy myself, and to see every brother
man, and sister woman, happy also. I shall, therefore, have
much pleasure in doing _mon petit possible_ to smooth away these
difficulties--an endeavour in which my influence with our good friend
Crane will greatly assist me; but to enable me to do this, you must of
course take me so far into your confidence, as to tell me whether I am
right in my preconceived ideas--_che dice, Signor_?”
Arthur reflected for a moment--he knew D’Almayne to be quick-sighted,
clear-headed, and fertile in expedient, at the same time he believed he
was designing and self-interested; in the present emergency, however, he
might, from his influence with Mr. Crane, be possibly of some use,
while he could scarcely, with the worst intentions, render the aspect of
affairs more complicated and unsatisfactory than it now appeared.
Accordingly, he replied,--“It cannot involve any alarming stretch of
confidence on my part, merely to tell you whether your ‘guesses at
truth’ have hit the mark, or flown wide of it. So you have only to
propound your queries, and I will answer them as clearly and concisely
as in me lies.”
“_C’est bon!_” was the reply. “A--to begin with--I am correct, am I not,
in supposing that last night my worthy friend Crane offered his hand and
£20,000 per annum (in which latter item his heart is of course wrapped
up and included) to your amiable and accomplished sister?” Hazlehurst
nodded assent, and D’Almayne continued,--“The young lady, however, or I
am much mistaken, greatly prefers your excellent and energetic friend,
Mr. Coverdale (who, you must pardon me for saying, reminds me of a
well-intentioned, enthusiastic bull in a chinashop), which preference
the gentleman returns to such a degree, that I am inclined to believe
he _has_ told, or in some other manner rendered the fair Alice aware of,
his love. Her manner at breakfast this morning, was compounded of such
an elaborate endeavour to conceal the conscious and confiding, behind
the most transparent _eidolon_ of indifference, that no one at all
acquainted with woman’s nature could doubt about the matter.”
“You are indeed a close observer!” exclaimed Arthur, surprised out of
his caution. “Coverdale’s attachment was a thing I never even suspected
till--a--till this morning.”
“Mr. Crane tells me, your father is intensely anxious to purchase one of
his farms adjoining your estate, which he (Crane) is unwilling to part
with,” resumed D’Almayne; “thence, I imagine, proceeds your respected
progenitor’s anxiety to bring about the match. To finish the catalogue
of my observations up to the present time, I conceive Mr. Crane to be
now in the act of urging his suit to Mr. Hazlehurst, and complaining
that ‘Miss Alice’ as he calls her (he always talks on such subjects
like an underbred greengrocer, or second footman), rather kicked,
than jumped, at him when he offered her--ahem--his income and his
affections.”
“Your surmises are so wonderfully correct,” rejoined Arthur (determining
to make a merit of necessity, and appear open with one who seemed thus
well acquainted with all the family secrets), “that in telling you that
as soon as Mr. Crane leaves the study, I mean to appeal to my father in
my friend’s behalf, I shall, probably, only forestall you in expressing
another of your judicious anticipations.”
“I rather imagined that would be the next move,” was the easy,
self-satisfied reply.--“Mr. Coverdale, with all his surprising freshness
and _naïveté_ of character, could scarcely propose to urge his suit
in person, after having quarrelled with your father over his wine last
night; for which reason, by the way, it requires no very great tact to
divine that Mr. Crane’s proposal will find favour in Mr. Hazlehurst’s
eyes, and Mr. Coverdale’s be rejected.”
“And the remedy?” inquired Arthur, eagerly.
D’Almayne paused, then a meaning but disagreeable smile passed across
his handsome features, as he replied,--“If I can induce Mr. Crane to
withdraw his suit of his own accord, yet continue his amicable relations
towards this family, and be willing to sell the farm to your father at
his own price, and by these means lead Mr. Hazlehurst to regard your
friend’s offer favourably, shall I be acting in accordance with your
wishes.”
“Nay, my dear D’Almayne, if you can indeed persuade Mr. Crane to perform
so magnanimous a part, I shall consider you the best and cleverest
fellow in the world. As to my wishing you to do so, I should as
soon have thought of wishing you to appoint me First Lord of the
Treasury--one only wishes for such things as one, in some degree,
expects to obtain. But surely you over-calculate your powers of
persuasion,” returned Hazlehurst, scarcely knowing whether D’Almayne
might not be amusing himself at his expense.
“I will remain here and await the result of your interview with your
father, and if it terminate as I predict, I will attempt my little bit
of diplomacy;--the result will prove to you whether or not I overrate my
Machiavelian talents,” was the confident reply--and so they parted.
Mr. Hazlehurst, senior, was by no means in an amiable frame of mind when
his son entered the library--the gout, considerably increased by the
wine-bibbing of the previous evening, pervaded his entire system, mental
and bodily; and through the atrabilious medium of a disordered stomach,
he looked back upon his disagreement with Coverdale, till it became
magnified into a serious quarrel. Mr. Crane had just informed him that,
on renewing his offer to Alice on the previous evening, the young lady
muttered a few words, incoherent indeed, but, as he conceived, of a
negative tendency, and instantly conveyed herself away without
affording him an opportunity of obtaining an explanation. Whereupon
Mr. Hazlehurst, waxing wroth, declared she should accept him that very
morning; begged him to retire until he should have seen his daughter,
and, as he was pleased to term it, brought her to her senses; and having
just dispatched a summons to the poor girl, was waiting her arrival
to perpetrate an act of parental tyranny, when his son entered. The
consequences may readily be imagined:--Coverdale was angrily and
unceremoniously refused; Alice anathematized, excommunicated, and
ordered magisterially to be imprisoned in her own room till farther
notice, and Arthur severely reprimanded for having introduced Coverdale
to the family (which, be it remembered, he had done at his father’s
particular request), and cautioned against venturing to countenance
Alice in her disobedience, or ever again to refer to the subject in his
(Mr. Hazlehurst’s) sovereign presence, on pain of being cut off with
the trilling patrimony of one shilling sterling. Arthur attempted a
mild remonstrance, whereby he obtained a particular request instantly to
leave the room, and a general order in regard to the entire alteration
of his conduct, and abnegation of his present opinions on all subjects,
human and divine. Returning to the breakfast-room in the frame of mind
naturally consequent upon such a reception, he discovered D’Almayne
comfortably lounging in an easy-chair, and perusing a handsomely bound
copy of the _Pleasures of Memory_.
Glancing up as Hazlehurst entered, he observed coolly--“I need not ask
you how it has gone, _mon ami_, your face tells me.”
Hazlehurst strode impatiently up and down the apartment; then stopping
short in front of his companion, he exclaimed abruptly--“Try your
plan, whatever it may be; for common sense is thrown away upon a man so
prejudiced and positive as my father has shown himself to be; and common
patience cannot bear the irritating speeches he makes, when all the time
one feels that one is striving for the right, and that he is totally and
entirely wrong.”
“You are warm, _mon cher_,” was the calm reply. “Papas have been
wrong-headed time out of mind, and will probably continue so till time
shall have passed away, together with all other sublunary weights and
measures; so why afflict yourself at the inevitable? But I will now
proceed without delay to try my eloquence upon the dear, rejected Mr.
Crane--a--by the way, you must give me one promise. ‘On their own merits
modest men are dumb;’ now my modesty is so outrageously sensitive,
that I am not only dumb myself, but require my friends to be so
likewise; in plain English, if I do this thing to oblige you, you must
promise me to keep my share in the transaction a secret; the change
must appear to emanate from the united kind regards and amiable
self-sacrifice of your father and Mr. Crane.” Seeing Arthur hesitate,
he continued--“Without this assurance, you must excuse my declining to
interfere.”
“Be it as you will then,” began Arthur.
As he spoke the door flew open, and Alice, eager and tearful, hurried
in, exclaiming,--“You have seen my father! Can it be true that he is so
cruel as to refuse his consent. He has just written me such a dreadful
note, ordering me not to quit my room!”
Here, catching sight of D’Almayne, she stopped short in confusion and
alarm. That individual hastened to relieve her by walking to the door;
but as he passed Arthur he whispered, “You may make an exception in your
sister’s favour. I absolve you from your vow of secrecy as far as she is
concerned. I am a tender-hearted fellow, and beauty in tears is always
too many for me.” As he spoke, he left the apartment, and closed the
door behind him.
Alice heard Arthur’s account of D’Almayne’s unexpected access of
benevolence with surprise; but not having witnessed the quiet confidence
with which he asserted his power of influencing Mr. Crane, she put but
little trust in his assurances, merely setting them down as the vain
boasting of a conceited youth, who was actuated by a good-natured desire
to help them out of their difficulties. That she did him injustice may
be gathered from the fact, that later in the day Mr. Crane sought a
second interview with Mr. Hazlehurst., after which the latter gentleman
summoned Harry Coverdale to his august presence; and when that happy but
much confused young man entered the _sanctum sanctorum_ of the library,
sent for his daughter Alice likewise, and having pronounced a strongly
acidulated, not to say, crabbed, benediction upon their youthful
heads, dismissed them in time to write by that day’s post to his man of
business, to prepare the purchase-money for the Hazlecroft farm, then
the property of Jedediah Crane, Esq. The dinner-party that evening
passed off much more agreeably than the breakfast had done. Coverdale
sat by his lady-love, looking the picture, or better still, the reality
of happiness; but Arthur Hazlehurst wore a gloomy brow when he perceived
that his cousin, Kate Marsden, had paired off with the cotton-spinner,
and that they appeared mutually satisfied with the arrangement.