A DISCOVERY SCENE--PRODUCTIVE OF MANY NEW RELATIONS, AND VARIOUS OTHER
CONSEQUENCES.
The day next but one after this letter reached him, Miss Compton and
Agnes were engaged to dine with Lady Elizabeth. Colonel Hubert had not
ventured to present himself in the Mall during the interval, for though,
on cooler meditation, he did not believe that the unfortunate words,
"Let me, then, confess to you, Colonel Hubert," were meant to usher a
confession of love to his rival, he doubted not that they would have
been followed by an avowal of her agreeing with himself in deeming his
own conduct most reprehensible; and just then, he felt he could not
receive this, notwithstanding its justice, in such a manner as to
assist in obtaining pardon for the fault. To Sir Edward he had mentioned
the probability of his brother's early return, but without hinting at
the chance of their seeing him at Clifton on his arrival in England.
The ladies of the party, namely, Lady Elizabeth, Lady Stephenson, Miss
Compton, and Agnes, were assembled in the drawing-room, the two
gentlemen not having yet quitted the dining-parlour, when a knock at the
door announced company.
"Who can that be?" said Lady Stephenson. "Have you invited evening
company?"
"Not a soul, my dear," replied her aunt; "I mean to have a treat
again.... I think I am growing sick of curiosities."
"_Tant mieux_, dear aunt!" replied Lady Stephenson. "But invited or not,
you have visiters coming now: I hear them on the stairs."
Lady Stephenson was right; the old butler opened the drawing-room door
almost as she spoke, and announced "Mr. Stephenson!"
"Frederick!" exclaimed his fair sister-in-law, looking as if she meant
to receive him very kindly.
"Young Stephenson!" said Lady Elizabeth, "I did not know that he was
coming to Clifton."
"Sir Edward's brother, I suppose?..." said Miss Compton, ... but Agnes
said nothing, though had any one laid a hand upon her heart, they would
have discovered that his arrival was not a matter of indifference. To
receive him with the appearance of it was, however, absolutely
necessary, and she very resolutely assumed an aspect of tranquillity; it
was not necessary that she should look towards the door to greet him as
he entered, and therefore she did not do it; but, notwithstanding the
attention she devoted to the pattern of the hearth-rug, she became
aware, within a moment after this electrifying name had been announced,
that not one only but three people were in the room, and that one of
them was a lady.
Agnes then looked up, and the first figure which distinctly met her eye
was not that of Frederick Stephenson, but of a gentleman bearing the
stamp of some forty years, perhaps, upon his handsome but delicate
features. He was not tall, but slightly and elegantly formed, which was
perceptible, though wrapped in a travelling frock trimmed with fur, and
his whole appearance was decidedly that of a gentleman.
But who these might be who were with him, or how they were received by
Lady Elizabeth, the eye of Agnes had no power to inquire, for it was
fascinated, as it were, by the earnest gaze of this stranger, who,
having already stepped forward a pace or two nearer to her than the
rest, stood looking at her with very evident emotion.
The first words she heard spoken were in the voice of young Stephenson,
which she immediately recognised, though the purport of them was
unintelligible.
"Yes, my dear sir, ... you are quite right," he said; "that is our
Agnes."
But though these words were somewhat startling, they drew her attention
less than the expression of the large blue eyes that were fixed upon
her; there was admiration, tenderness, and a strange sort of
embarrassment, all legibly mingled in that earnest look ... but why was
it fixed on her?
What effect this mute scene produced on the other persons present, Agnes
could not know, for she did not withdraw her eyes from those of the
mysterious stranger, till at length he turned from her, and stepping
back, took the hand of a very young, but very beautiful girl, whom he
led towards the sofa she occupied, and placing her on it, said,
"Agnes Willoughby!... receive your sister ... and let her plead for her
father and yours.... You have been long, long neglected, my poor child,
but there has been some excuse for it.... Can you forgive me, Agnes?"
"Good God!... My father!" she exclaimed, starting up, and stretching out
her hands towards him. "Is it possible, sir, that you are indeed my
father?"
"You speak as if you wished it were so, Agnes," he replied, taking her
in his arms, and impressing a kiss upon her forehead, "and I will echo
your words.... Is it possible?"
"Possible!... O! yes, sir, it is possible.... I have so longed to know
that I had a father!... And is this sweet creature my sister?" she
continued, turning her tearful eyes upon the beautiful girl, who upon
this appeal sprang forward, and enclosing both her father and Agnes in
her arms, replied to it by saying,
"Yes, dearest Agnes, I am your sister, indeed I am, and I know you very
well, and all about you, though you know so little about me ... but you
will not refuse to own me, will you?"
For all reply Agnes bent forward and kissed her fondly.
Miss Compton who, as may be supposed, had watched this discovery scene
with no little interest, now stepped towards them, while young
Stephenson was engaged in explaining it to Lady Elizabeth and his
sister-in-law; and looking from one sister to the other, and from them
both to their father, she said--"You will, perhaps, hardly remember that
we ever met, Mr. Willoughby ... but my name is Compton, and I recal your
features perfectly. You once passed an hour at my brother's house when I
was there ... and that these girls are sisters, no one that sees them
together will be likely to deny.... God bless them both, pretty
creatures!... I hope they will each be a blessing to the other.... But,
to be sure, it seems to be a most romantic story ... and wonderfully
like those I used to read in my bower, Agnes."
"There is a good deal that is very sad in my part of it, Miss Compton,"
replied Mr. Willoughby, "but at this moment I can hardly regret it, as
herein I hope to show some excuse for my long negligence respecting my
poor girl. Take this on trust, my good lady, will you?" he added,
holding out his hand to her, "that no displeasure towards me may destroy
the happiness of this meeting."
Miss Compton gave him her hand very frankly, saying,
"I have no right to be very severe upon you, Mr. Willoughby, for,
without any misfortunes at all to plead as an excuse for it, our dear
Agnes might tell you some naughty stories about me.... But she does not
look as if she were much inclined to complain of anybody.... What a pair
of happy, lovely looking creatures!... And how very strong the likeness
to each other, and of both to you!"
Willoughby retired a step or two, and leaning against the chimney-piece,
seemed disposed to enjoy the contemplation of the picture she pointed
out, in silence. Lady Elizabeth claimed the attention of Miss Compton,
that she might express her interest, satisfaction, surprise, and so
forth. Lady Stephenson slipped out of the room to communicate the news
to her husband and brother, and prepare them for the company they had to
receive ... and then Frederick Stephenson approached the sisters, and
drawing a chair towards them, very freely took a hand of each.
That of Agnes trembled. She felt that the happiness of her life would be
for ever destroyed, if this young man was come back in consequence of
Colonel Hubert's letter, with the persuasion that it was her purpose to
accept him; and favourable as was the moment for a sort of universal
philanthropy and unrestrained _epanchement de coeur_, she could not
resist the impulse which led her to withdraw her hand, and return his
affectionate smile with a look of coldness and reserve.
Perfectly undaunted, however, the gay Frederick continued to look at her
with an air of the most happy confidence; but suddenly, as it seemed,
recollecting that it was possible, though they had all of them been at
least ten minutes in the room together, no explanation might have yet
reached her, he said, in a manner to show that he was too happy to be
very grave, though quite sufficiently in earnest to deserve belief--"If
you accept my Nora for a sister, Agnes, you must accept me for a brother
too. She knows that till I saw her I thought you the most charming
person in the world; and as she forgives me for this, I hope you will
show as much resemblance to her in mind as in person, and forgive me for
thinking, when I did see her, that she was still more charming than
you?"
And then it was that Agnes for the first time in her life felt wholly,
perfectly, and altogether happy. She saw in an instant, with the rapid
glance of love, that all the misty cloud that had hung between her and
Hubert was withdrawn for ever ... and then she felt how very delightful
it was to have a father, and such an elegant, interesting-looking
father ... and then she became fully aware what a blessing it was to have
a sister, and that sister so beautiful, and so capable of inspiring love
in every heart ... save one, guarded as Hubert's was guarded. Her joy,
her new-born gladness of spirit, danced in her eyes, as she now freely
returned the young man's laughing glance, and restoring to him the hand
she had withdrawn, she exclaimed, "Oh! Frederick ... why did you not
answer Hubert's letter, and tell him this?"
"It is so, then?... it is as I hoped, my sweet Agnes?... and you will
be doubly our sister?... Why did I not answer Hubert's letter? Because
it was the most mystical, unintelligible, dark, and diplomatic
performance that ever was put forth. Did you see it, Agnes?"
"No, I did not," she replied, with a smile; "but I can imagine that it
might have been a little in that style. Yet still you should have
answered it."
"I did answer it--that is, I replied to it by a line or two written in
a prodigious hurry; but you must perceive that I could not enclose Nora
in a cover; and as she is, to all intents and purposes, _my answer_, I
was obliged to let him wait till I could convey her properly, and place
her before his eyes and his understanding."
"And so convince him," replied Agnes, with another smile, full of her
new-born gaiety, "that the moment she is seen all other ladies must be
forgotten ... prove that to Colonel Hubert, Mr. Stephenson, and I will
prove to you" ...
"What?--you tremendous-looking sibyl, what?"
"A very fatal sister!" she replied; and then the door opened, and Lady
Stephenson preceded the two gentlemen she had brought from the
dining-parlour, into the room.
Agnes, no longer the fearful, shrinking Agnes, sprang forward to meet
them, and taking Colonel Hubert by the hand, led him to her father,
saying in an altered accent, that at once entered his heart, and told
him that all was right--"Let me present you to my father, Hubert--to my
_dear_ father, Colonel Hubert; he will indeed be doubly dear to us, for
he has brought with him a sister for both of us, whom I feel sure we
shall for ever love."
But hardly did Agnes, who seemed newly awakened from some heavy spell
that had benumbed her heart--hardly did she give time for a courteous
greeting between the gentlemen, ere she passed her arm beneath that of
Colonel Hubert, and led him to the sofa. Frederick started forward to
meet him, and laying a hand on each shoulder, said in his ear, yet not
so low but that Agnes heard him too--"It was lucky I did not take you to
France with me, Hubert, or I should certainly never have got a wife at
all; as it is, however, permit me"--he added aloud--"to present you,
Colonel Hubert, to Miss Nora Willoughby. Nora, dearest, this gentleman
is the best friend I have in the world--my brother's wife is his sister,
and your sister, my fair bride elect, will very soon be his wife, or I
cannot read the stars ... so, as you may perceive, our catastrophe is
exceedingly like that great model of all catastrophes, in which the
happy hero says ... 'And these are all my near relations'--_ecce signum_,
here is my own elder brother. Sir Edward Stephenson, Miss Nora
Willoughby. Is she not charming, Edward? I hope I have pleased you at
last, and their ladyships, my sisters, too, for I assure you everything
is very elegant, well-born, and so forth.... But you are not to sit down
by her though, for all that, unless you make room for me between you,
for she has already given away more smiles than I can at all afford to
spare; and, besides, I have a hundred things to say to her ... I want to
ask her how she likes you all."
Colonel Hubert, as soon as his gay friend had reseated himself, gave one
speaking look to Agnes, and then devoted himself entirely to Mr.
Willoughby.
By degrees, the party began to talk together with less of agitation and
more of comfort; but Frederick was not permitted wholly to engross his
young _fiancee_, for all the ladies crowded round her, and vied with
each other in giving a cordial welcome to this young foreigner on the
land of her fathers. She was in truth a very sweet young creature, and
soon converted the kindness which circumstances called for, into very
cordially liking. Distant hopes were talked of without reserve, and
immediate arrangements canvassed. Miss Compton kindly invited the young
stranger to share her sister's apartment, a servant was despatched to
secure rooms for Mr. Willoughby and Frederick at the hotel, and the
happiness their unexpected arrival had brought to two harassed hearts of
the party seemed to diffuse itself very delightfully among them all.
At length, Miss Compton's carriage was announced, and while the cloaks
of the fair sisters were wrapped round them by their vowed servants, Mr.
Willoughby performed the same office for her, and took that opportunity
of asking leave to wait upon her on the following morning, in order to
relate to her such passages of the history of his long exile as might,
in some degree, account for his having left her adopted child for so
many years without a father.
While this appointment was making with the aunt, the niece contrived,
unheard by all, to whisper a word or two which led to an appointment for
her also.
Colonel Hubert had more than once that evening taught her to
understand, by the eloquence of looks, the delightful change that had
been wrought within him; but it was Agnes who first found the
opportunity of giving expression to it in words. He stood behind her as
he arranged her cloak, and when this was done, she turned suddenly round
to him, and said, in an accent of playful reproach, "Hubert!... may I
be happy now?"
His answer was, "Will you see me to-morrow?... and alone?" She
blushed--perhaps at remembering how often she had before wished to
converse with him in the manner he now for the first time proposed, but
she nodded her assent; he handed her to the carriage, pressed her hand,
and whispered "eleven o'clock" as he put her into it, and then mounted
to his chamber without exchanging a word more with any living soul, that
he might enjoy, for the first time since he had yielded up his heart,
the luxury of meditating on Agnes and her promised love, without any
mixture of self-reproach to poison the enjoyment.