TIME AND CHANGE.
While Mr. Carteret lived, Robert Meredith had been a frequent visitor
to Chayleigh. The quiet, eccentric old gentleman had remained in the
old house, and had faithfully guarded his beloved collection to the
last. But that emporium of curiosities had not received many additions
after Mrs. Baldwin's death. The old man had taken, after a time, a
little feeble pleasure in it, it is true; but only because those about
him had acted on the hint which Margaret herself had given them, after
the death of Mrs. Carteret, and persuaded him to resume his care of
the collection because his daughter had been so fond of it.
Always quiet, uncomplaining, and kind to every one, the old man would
have had rather a snubbed and subdued kind of life of it, under the
rule of Haldane's bouncing Lucy, but for the vigilance of James
Dugdale. That silent and unsuspected sufferer sedulously watched and
cared for the old man, and Mrs. Haldane, who by no means liked him, so
far respected and feared him that she never ventured to dispute any of
his arrangements for Mr. Carteret's welfare.
He continued to like Lucy "pretty well," and to regard Robert Meredith
with special favour, though he lived long enough to see Robert pass
quite out of the category of exceptional boys. Indeed, so much did he
like him, that at one time he entertained an idea of bequeathing to
him the famous collection, after the demise of James Dugdale, who was
to have a life interest in its delights and treasures; but on the old
gentleman's broaching the subject to him one day, Robert Meredith put
the objections to the scheme so very strongly to him, that he
acknowledged the superior wisdom of his young friend, bowed to his
decision, and liked him more than ever for his disinterestedness.
Robert represented to him that, though the possession of the
collection must afford to any happy mortal capable of appreciating it
the purest and most lasting gratification, not so much the pleasure of
the individual as the preservation, the dignity, and the safe keeping
of the collection itself ought to be considered. Unhappily, he, Robert
Meredith, was not likely to possess a house in which the treasure
might be conveniently and suitably lodged, and it was a melancholy
fact that neither Haldane nor his wife appreciated the collection;
and, when the present owner of Chayleigh should be no more, and his
bequest should have come into operation, there would arise the
grievous necessity of dislodging the collection.
Under these circumstances--stated very carefully by Robert Meredith,
who knew that his particular friend Mrs. Haldane would bundle both
James and the collection out of doors with the smallest possible delay
on the commencement of her absolute reign, unless indeed some very
valuable consideration should attach itself to her not doing so--he
suggested that Mr. Carteret would do well to conquer his objection to
the "merging" of the collection. That it should be "merged" after his
death was a less painful contingency to contemplate than that it
should be destroyed or materially injured. The best, the most
effectual plan would be, that Mr. Carteret should bequeath the
collection, on James Dugdale's death, to his granddaughter, the
heiress of the Deane, with the request that it might be transferred
thither, there to remain as an heirloom for ever. The old gentleman
submitted with a sigh; and this testamentary arrangement was actually
made.
The friendship between Robert and Mrs. Haldane, which had commenced in
his boyish admiration of her, and her keen appreciation of the
sentiment, remained unabated, which, considering that the pretty and
vivacious Lucy was not conspicuous for steadiness of feeling, was not
a little remarkable. Perhaps the lady believed in her secret soul, as
the years wore on, that she could have explained Robert's not being a
marrying man.
A strictly proper and virtuous British matron was Mrs. Haldane
Carteret--a very dragon of propriety indeed, and a lady who would not
have received her own sister, if she had been so unlucky as to "get
talked of"--and therefore this insinuation must be fully explained, in
order to prevent the slightest misapprehension on the subject. Lucy
would have been unspeakably shocked had it ever been said or thought
by any one that Robert Meredith entertained any feeling warmer than
the most strictly regulated friendship for her; but she did not object
to a secret sentiment on her own part, which sometimes found
expression in reverie, and in a murmured "poor boy," in a little
genial sense of satisfaction as the time went by and Robert did not
marry, and was not talked of as likely to marry--when his polite
attention to her underwent no alteration, and she still felt she
enjoyed his confidence. Mrs. Haldane was a little mistaken in the
latter particular. She did _not_ enjoy the confidence of Robert
Meredith; but neither was any other person in possession of that
privilege, though it was one of the charms, or rather the
achievements, of his manner, that he could convey the flattering
impression to any one he pleased.
When Haldane and his wife were put, by the death of Mr. Carteret, in
possession of Chayleigh--an event which occurred seven years after
Margaret's decease, and four years later than that of Mr.
Baldwin--James Dugdale continued to reside in the old house, which had
been his home for so many years, only until the return of Lady
Davyntry and her orphan nieces to England. Haldane Carteret, a "good
fellow" in all the popular acceptation of the word, was rather a weak
fellow also, especially where his pretty wife's whims or feelings were
concerned; and not all his sincere and grateful regard for his old
friend could prevent his feeling relieved, when James told him he
could not resist Lady Davyntry's pressing entreaty that he should take
up his abode with her and "the children." Every one spoke of the
orphan girls as "the children," and their fatherless and motherless
estate was wonderfully tempered to them.
The Deane had been let by Mr. Baldwin's executors for a long term of
years; but James Dugdale applied to the tenant in possession for
permission to have the collection transferred thither, and received
it. Thus Mrs. Haldane was disembarrassed within a very short period of
her father-in-law and his incomprehensible curiosities and of James
Dugdale. To do her justice, Mrs. Haldane was sorry for the gentle,
quiet old man; and it certainly was not with reference to him that she
expressed her satisfaction, when all the flittings had been
accomplished, in "being at last the mistress of her own house." There
must have been a good deal of the imaginative faculty about Mrs.
Haldane Carteret when she rejoiced in her freedom from trammels; for
it never could have occurred to anybody that she had not been
thoroughly and indisputably the mistress of Chayleigh from the day of
her arrival there. But there is a great deal in imagination, and Mrs.
Haldane knew her own business best.
When James Dugdale left Chayleigh, as a residence, for ever, the
passion-flower which embowered the window of the room which had once
been Margaret's, and had ever since been his, was in the full beauty
and richness of its bloom. He cut a few twigs and leaves, and one or
two of the grand solemn flowers, and took his leave of the room and
the window and the tree. It was very painful, even after all those
years--more painful than those to whom life is full of activity and
change could conceive or would believe. But so thoroughly was this a
final parting, and so truly did James Dugdale feel it so, that when,
some time afterwards, Mrs. Haldane, having read in some new medical
treatise that "green things"--as she generally termed everything that
grew, from the cedar of Lebanon to the parsley of private life--were
unwholesome on the walls of a house, had the passion-flower and the
trellis cleared away, and the wall above the verandah neatly
whitewashed, it hardly gave him a pang.
In all the chancres which befell the family at Chayleigh, Robert
Meredith had a certain share. Mr. Carteret never ceased to like him,
to look for his coming, to enjoy, in his quiet way, the adaptive young
man's society. James never permitted the interest he had taken in him
for his old friend's sake--his old friend dead and gone now, like all
the rest--to flag or falter. Perhaps he held by that feeling all the
more conscientiously that he had never been much drawn towards Robert
Meredith individually. The feeling towards him which he and Margaret
had shared at the first had remained with him always, like all his
feelings; for it was part of the constitution of his mind, a part
powerful for suffering, that he did not change.
When Lady Davyntry went abroad with "the children" James Dugdale's
life had become more than ever solitary; and, though conscious that he
derived very little pleasure from Robert's presence, he encouraged the
visits which Mrs. Haldane was ever ready to invite.
But a day of still greater change came--a sad and heavy day to James
Dugdale, and of tremendous loss and evil to the orphan girls. Lady
Davyntry died--not suddenly, but unexpectedly--and the full
responsibility of the guardianship of Gertrude and Eleanor Baldwin was
thrown upon Haldane Carteret and James Dugdale. Davyntry, in which Mr.
Baldwin's sister had only a life interest, passed into the possession
of the young man who had succeeded to the title on the death of Sir
Richard Davyntry; and the choice of the guardians to the young girls,
as to the future home of their wards, lay between Chayleigh and the
Deane, of which it became possible for them to resume possession
shortly after Lady Davyntry's death.
When the decision which assigned the Deane to the young heiresses as
their future abode had been reached and acted upon, Robert Meredith
naturally ceased to have much intercourse with the Carterets and with
James Dugdale.
Haldane was very much pleased with the kind of life he led at the
Deane. He made a first-rate "country gentleman," an ardent sportsman,
a pleasant companion, hospitable, kind-hearted, _insouciant_, fond of
the place and of everything in it, devoted to his wife--"absurdly so,"
as the spinsters of the neighbourhood, a remarkably numerous class
even for Scotland, declared--and most indulgent and affectionate to
his nieces. This latter quality the aforesaid spinsters accounted for
satisfactorily on the double grounds, that it was not likely he would
be anything but indulgent to such rich girls--of course he expected to
be well recompensed when they came into "all their property"--and
that, as he had no children of his own, he might very well care for
his "poor dear sister's fatherless girls."
The worthy ex-captain of artillery knew little and cared less how
people accounted for the strange phenomena of his fulfilling carefully
and conscientiously a sacred duty. He was a good, happy, unsuspicious
man, and "the children" loved him better than any one in the world,
except James Dugdale and Rose Doran.
Mrs. Carteret was in the habit of "going south" much more frequently
than Haldane did so; she liked a few weeks in London in the season,
and she scrupulously visited her own family, by whom she was regarded
with much affection and admiration, not quite unmingled with awe.
The eldest Miss Crofton's "match" had "turned out" much better than
the family had expected, and Lucy Carteret shone very brilliantly
indeed in the reflected light shed upon her by the wealth and station
of her husband's nieces and wards. On the occasion of her visits to
England she always saw a good deal of Robert Meredith; and so--owing
to the convenience of modern locomotion, Mrs. Carteret's former home
had been brought within easy reach of London--Robert was a not
unfrequent guest of old Mr. Crofton's when his daughter was sojourning
there. Chayleigh had been advantageously let by Haldane for some years
beyond the term of his nieces' minority.
On the last occasion of her "going south" Mrs. Carteret had been
accompanied by Eleanor Baldwin, whose health, always delicate, had
recently occasioned her uncle and aunt some anxiety. She had enjoyed
her trip, and Robert had been very much with both ladies. Never had
Mrs. Carteret been more thoroughly convinced that he was one of the
most charming of men; never had the secret suspicion, that she could,
if she chose, explain the reason of his having remained up to his
present age unmarried, presented itself so frequently and so strongly
to her mind.
Robert Meredith had been told by Mrs. Carteret that Haldane intended
to celebrate the attainment of her majority by the heiress of the
Deane in splendid style, and he had received from her a pressing
invitation to be present on the occasion. The time of year made it
difficult for him to feel sure of being able to leave town; but he
promised that he would go to the Deane on that auspicious and
delightful occasion, then six months in perspective, if he could
possibly manage it.
It was during this visit of Mrs. Carteret to London that George
Ritherdon made her acquaintance, and saw for the first time one of
"the Baldwin children," of whom he had heard occasional casual
mention. Robert Meredith's "chum" pleased Mrs. Carteret much,
especially when he did the honours of the Temple Church to her and
Eleanor; and while explaining all the objects of interest and their
associations, did so with a happy and successful assumption of merely
refreshing their memory, which was indicative of the nicest tact. The
general result was that, when Robert Meredith received a formal
reminder of his promise to come to the Deane for Gertrude's birthday,
the letter enclosed a pressing invitation to George Ritherdon to
accompany his friend.
"Of course you'll come. There's much less to keep you in town than
there is to keep me, for that matter, so you can't pretend to object,"
said Meredith, as the friends were discussing their letters and their
breakfast simultaneously.
"I should like it very much indeed," said Ritherdon; "but--"
"Very well, of course you'll do it." interrupted Meredith; and was
about to say something more, when the entrance of their "mutual"
servant suspended the conversation.
The man addressed himself to Robert, with the information that a
person was then waiting in the passage, who urgently requested to be
admitted to see him; that the person was an old man, not of remarkably
prosperous appearance; and that he had replied to the servant's
remonstrance, on his presenting himself at such an unseemly hour, that
he was sure Mr. Meredith would see him, for he came from Australia,
and from his own "people" there.
Surprised, but by no means discomposed, Robert Meredith made no reply
to the servant, but said to George Ritherdon,
"It sounds odd. I suppose I ought to see him."
"I think so, old fellow; and I'll clear off;" which he did.
"Show the old person from Australia in, Wilham." said Meredith to the
servant, and added to himself, "I wonder what he has got to say to
me--nothing I need mind. I should have had bad news by post, if there
was any to send."