THE MINE IS SPRUNG.
Time sped on, and no fresh obstacle opposed itself to Robert
Meredith's designs. His venerable colleague gave him no farther
trouble. He had calculated with accuracy on Gertrude's nobility and
delicacy of mind preventing her seeking to prejudice his friends in
the household at the Deane against him, leading her to keep her
promise of secrecy in its most perfect spirit. Thus, he pursued his
design against her undisturbed, under her own roof, and with all the
appearance of a good understanding existing between them.
Meredith was, however, mistaken in supposing that Gertrude was
ignorant of her sister's attachment to him. She was much too
keen-sighted where her affections were concerned to be deceived as to
the state of Eleanor's mind, even had it not painfully revealed itself
in the altered relations between them. She knew her sister's
infatuation well, and she deplored it bitterly. The sorrow it caused
her was all the more keen, because it was the first of her life in
which she had not had recourse to Mr. Dugdale for advice, sympathy,
and consolation. Now, she asked for none of these at his hands. She
could not have claimed them without divulging the secret she had
pledged herself to keep, and grieving the old man by changing his
regard for the son of his dead friend into distrust and dislike.
So Gertrude suffered in silence; and as she became more and more
isolated--as she felt the sweet home ties relaxing daily--she clung
all the more firmly to the hope, the conviction that George Ritherdon
loved her; though for some reason, which she was content to take on
trust, to respect without understanding, he was resolved not to tell
her so yet.
George Ritherdon passed three weeks, that autumn, at the Deane; but
Meredith avoided him--making an excuse for selecting the period of his
visit for fulfilling another engagement. During those three weeks the
regard and esteem of old Mr. Dugdale and George Ritherdon for each
other so increased by intimacy, that Gertrude had the satisfaction of
seeing them occupy the respective positions which she would most
ardently have desired had her dearest hopes been realised. When
George's visit had reached its conclusion, Mr. Dugdale took leave of
him as he might have done of a son, and the young man left his old
friend's rooms deeply affected. Gertrude was not much seen by the
family that day, and it was understood Mr. Dugdale had requested her
to pass the afternoon with him.
"Why does he say nothin', when any one that wasn't as blind as a bat
could see he dotes on the ground she walks on?" asked Mr. Dugdale's
faithful friend and confidante, Mrs. Doran, when they compared notes
in the evening, after Gertrude had pleaded fatigue and left them.
"I don't know, indeed," was Mr. Dugdale's answer. "I suppose he thinks
she has not had a fair chance of choosing yet."
"Hasn't seen enough of grand young gentlemen just dyin' to put her
money in their pockets, and spend it on other people, maybe!" said
Mrs. Doran ironically. "Bad luck to it, for money it's the curse of
the world; for you don't know which does the most harm--too little of
it, or too much! However, it's only waiting a bit, and they'll find
each other out. Sure, he's a gentleman born and bred, and every inch
of him, and made for her, if ever there was a match made in heaven."
So Gertrude's best friends were silently waiting for the fulfilment of
her hope. Mr. Dugdale had asked George Ritherdon to write to him
frequently,--a request to which the young man had gratefully acceded;
and his latest letter had informed Mr. Dugdale that he found himself
obliged to leave London, for an indefinite period and at much
inconvenience, owing to his mother's illness.
The time was now approaching when Eleanor should attain her majority,
and Gertrude had resolved that the event should be celebrated with all
the distinction which had attended her own.
To Eleanor and to Mrs. Carteret the birthday-fête had the surpassing
attraction of a charming entertainment, rendered still more delightful
by the presence of the lover of the one and the particular friend of
the other. To Gertrude, though she strove to be bright and gay, and
though she sought by every means in her power to evince her affection
for the sister who turned away with steady coldness from all her
advances, the occasion was a melancholy one. It furnished a sad
contrast to the fête which had welcomed her own coming of age in every
respect,--above all, in that one which had become most important to
her: George was not present.
Robert Meredith caused his manner to be remarked on this occasion by
more than one of the guests at the Deane. To Miss Baldwin he was
scrupulously but distantly polite; with Mrs. Carteret he assumed a
tone of intimacy which she seconded to the full; but to Eleanor he
bore himself like an acknowledged and triumphant lover. Every one saw
this, including Mr. Dugdale, during his brief visit to the scene of
the festivities, and Haldane Carteret, not remarkable for quickness of
observation. The fact made both these observers uneasy, but they did
not make any comment to one another upon their suspicions.
The sisters, who had each been dancing nearly all night, did not meet
on the conclusion of the ball. The old familiar habit of a long talk,
in one of their respective dressing-rooms, after all the household had
retired, had long been abandoned; and when, on this occasion,
Gertrude--resolved to make an effort to break through the barrier so
silently but effectually reared between them--went to her sister's
room, she found the door locked, and though she heard Eleanor moving
about, no answer to her petition for admittance was returned. Full of
care and foreboding, Gertrude returned to her room, and it was broad
day before she forgot her grief, and the presentiment of evil which
accompanied it, in sleep.
The ladies did not appear at breakfast the next morning, and the party
consisted only of Major Carteret, Robert Meredith, and two harmless
individuals who were staying in the house, and in no way remarkable or
important. On the conclusion of the meal Robert Meredith requested
Major Carteret to accord him an interview, which the latter agreed to
do with some hesitation. They adjourned to the library, and there
Meredith, with no circumlocution, and in a plain and business-like
manner, informed Major Carteret that he had proposed to his niece
Eleanor Baldwin, been accepted by her, and that she had requested him
to communicate the fact to Major Carteret.
Eleanor's uncle received the intelligence with awkwardness rather than
with actual disapprobation, and acquitted himself not very well in
replying. Something of unpleasantly-felt power in Meredith's tone
jarred upon him as he used a perfectly discreet formula of words in
making the announcement. Haldane Carteret did not dislike or distrust
Meredith, and he was not an interested man. He had married for love
himself, and he knew his niece had sufficient fortune to deprive her
conduct of imprudence, if she chose to do the same. It was not fair to
take it for granted that Meredith was not attached to Eleanor, that he
was actuated by interested motives; and yet Haldane Carteret, an
honest man, if not bright, felt that all was not straightforward and
simple feeling in this matter. He said something about disparity of
age; then admitted that, in referring Meredith to him, his niece had
merely treated him with dutiful courtesy, as his guardianship and
authority had terminated; and finally, on being pressed by Meredith,
said he perceived no objection, beyond the evident one that his niece
might have looked for more decided worldly advantages in her marriage,
and that he thought the proceeding had been somewhat too precipitate
for the best interests of both. All this Haldane Carteret said,
because his native honesty obliged him to say it; but heartily wishing
he could bring the interview to a close, or hand Meredith over to his
wife, who would probably be delighted.
Meredith received Major Carteret's remarks with calm politeness, but
hardly thought it necessary to combat them. He could not see the
disparity in age in any serious light, and he ventured to assure his
Eleanor's uncle he and she had understood one another for some time;
there was no real precipitation in the matter. As for the advantages
which such a marriage secured to him, he was most ready to acknowledge
them, and to admit their effect on the general estimate of his
motives, but he did not mind that. Secure against an unkind
interpretation by Eleanor and her relatives, he was indifferent to any
other opinion. He flattered himself Mrs. Carteret would learn the news
with satisfaction. This was ground on which Major Carteret could meet
him with cordial assent; and he got over his difficulties by referring
the happy lover to Mrs. Carteret; and having summoned her to the
library to receive Meredith's communication from himself, he left them
together.
Mrs. Carteret was expansively and enthusiastically delighted. She
declared she felt herself quite a girl again in contemplating the
happiness of her beloved niece and her old friend; and it may be
assumed that Robert Meredith had evinced very nice tact and discretion
in the method by which he conveyed the information to her.
It was no small portion of the suffering which Gertrude Baldwin had to
undergo at this time, that she heard the news of her sister's
engagement--not from Eleanor herself, not in any kindly sisterly
conference, but from Mrs. Carteret, whose light gleeful manner of
imparting the information to Gertrude was far from conveying any sense
of its importance to the agitated girl; and who filled up the measure
of her congratulations to everybody concerned, by remarking that in
"poor dear Eleanor's invidious position, it was most desirable that
she should marry early, and before Gerty had made her choice." This
speech chilled Gertrude into silence, and she left her aunt--having
uttered only a few commonplace words--with the well-founded conviction
that Eleanor would believe her either envious, indifferent, or
prejudiced against her and Meredith. Gertrude was quite alone in her
distress of mind, as she purposely avoided Mr. Dugdale--being
unwilling to awaken a suspicion in his mind of its cause--and Mrs.
Doran, who she instinctively knew would penetrate and share her
feelings.
In the course of the day both those members of the family were made
aware of Eleanor's engagement. Old Mr. Dugdale took the intimation
very calmly, as it was his wont to take all things now, since he had
ceased to feel keenly save where Gertrude was concerned. Mrs. Doran
heard it, with a sad foreboding heart and a gloomy face. She had never
liked, she had never trusted Robert Meredith; and she could not forget
that the man her dear dead mistress's daughter was about to marry was
the same who, as a boy, had hated Margaret.
Robert Meredith and Gertrude did not meet alone. They mutually and
successfully avoided each other, and the elder sister was pointedly
excluded by Eleanor and Mrs. Carteret from all the discussions which
ensued relative to the arrangements for the marriage, which was to
take place soon. Gertrude heard that her aunt and her sister purposed
to go to London, to purchase Eleanor's _trousseau_, to select
Eleanor's house, without a word of comment. But when something was
said about the marriage taking place in London, she interposed, and in
her customary sweet and yet dignified way remonstrated. Eleanor, she
said, ought to leave no house for a husband's, but her own.
"Mine!" said Eleanor. "I presume you mean yours--you are talking of
the Deane."
"I am talking of our mutual home, Eleanor, where once no such evil
thing as a divided interest ever had a place.--Uncle,"--here she
turned to Major Carteret, and laid her hand impressively upon his
arm,--"speak for me in this. Tell Eleanor I am right, and that
our parents--I, at least, have never felt their loss so bitterly
before--would have had it so."
"I'm sure I don't know what to say," replied Haldane Carteret
forlornly. "I can't conceive what has come between you two girls; but
I must say I do think Gerty is in the right in this instance.--Lucy,
my dear, the wedding must be at the Deane."
So that was settled; and afterwards, until Eleanor and Mrs. Carteret,
accompanied by Robert Meredith, went to London, things were better
between the sisters. There was not, indeed, any renewal of the
intimate affection, the unrestrained cordiality of other times; and
Gertrude felt mournfully that a complete restoration could never
be--the constant interposition of Meredith would render that
impossible. Under ordinary circumstances, the marriage of one by
involving separation from the other must have loosened the old bonds;
but this marriage was indeed fatal. They were young girls, however,
and the evil influence which had come between them had not yet
completely done its work, had not spoiled all their common interest in
the topics which fittingly engage the minds of young girls. Gertrude
strove to forget her own wounded feelings, to conquer her
apprehensions, and to disarm the jealous reticence of her sister by
frank interest and generous zeal. She succeeded to some extent, and
the interval between the declaration of the engagement and the
departure of Mrs. Carteret and Eleanor was the happiest time, so far
as she was individually concerned, that Gertrude had known since the
first painful consciousness of division had come between the sisters.
Everything went on quietly on the surface of life at the Deane when
Eleanor and her aunt had left home. Mr. Dugdale was a little more
feeble, perhaps; his daily airing upon the terrace was shorter, his
period of seclusion in his own rooms was lengthened; but he was very
cheerful, and seemed to desire Gertrude's presence more constantly
than ever.
The visit to London was as prosperous as its purpose was pleasant.
Mrs. Carteret's letters were quite exultant. Never had she enjoyed
herself more, she flattered herself Eleanor's _trousseau_ was
unimpeachable, and Robert Meredith was the most devoted of lovers and
the most delightful of men. She had had an agreeable surprise, too,
since she had been in London. She fancied she had chanced to mention
to Gertrude that a distant relative of hers, whom she had only seen as
a very young child--a Mr. Oakley--had gone out to Australia, and, it
had happened oddly enough, had there known Robert Meredith's father
and their beloved Margaret's first husband; indeed, he had known
Gertrude's dear mother herself. This gentleman--a fine venerable old
man, "quite a Rembrandt's head, indeed," Mrs. Carteret added--was now
in London, having made an honourable independence; and he naturally
wished to find friends and a little social intercourse among such of
his relatives as were still living. Mr. Meredith had brought him to
see her, and the dear old gentleman had been much gratified and deeply
affected by the meeting. Mrs. Carteret went on to say that, knowing
dear Gertrude's invariable kindness and wish to please everybody, and
also taking into consideration her characteristic respect for old age
combined with virtue and respectability,--so remarkably displayed in
the case of their dear Mr. Dugdale,--she had ventured to promise Mr.
Oakley a welcome to the Deane, on behalf of Miss Baldwin, on the
approaching auspicious occasion.
To this letter Gertrude replied promptly, expressing her pleasure at
having it in her power to gratify Mrs. Carteret, and enclosing a
cordially-worded invitation to the Deane to the venerable old
gentleman with the Rembrandt head; who received it with a chuckle, and
a muttered commendation of the long-sightedness which had made Robert
Meredith defer his introduction to Miss Baldwin until the present
truly convenient season.
On her side, Gertrude was making preparations on a splendid scale for
the celebration of her sister's marriage in her ancestral home.
Nothing that affection and generosity could suggest was neglected by
the young heiress, whose own tastes were of the simplest order, to
gratify those of Eleanor. She lavished gifts upon her with an
unsparing hand, and, indeed, valued her wealth chiefly because it
enabled her to obey the dictates of a most generous nature.
Mrs. Carteret and Eleanor returned to the Deane, attended by Mr.
Oakley. Robert Meredith was to follow the day before that fixed for
the wedding. The old gentleman did not impress Gertrude particularly
as being venerable, as distinguished from old, in either person or
manner; and she quickly perceived that Mrs. Carteret was aware and
ashamed of his underbred presuming manners. This perception, however,
was only another motive to induce Gertrude to treat him with the
utmost courtesy and consideration. She must shield her aunt from any
unpleasantness which might arise in consequence of her relative's
evident unfitness for the society into which she had brought him. At
all events, it would only be putting up with him for a short time, and
he certainly could do no harm. So Gertrude was perseveringly kind and
gentle to Mr. Oakley, and actually so far impressed the old gentleman
favourably, that he believed Robert Meredith to have lied in imputing
disdainful pride to her, and almost regretted the part he had
undertaken to play. There was no help for it now, however; he might as
well profit by the transaction, which it was altogether too late to
avert. Thus did the faint scruples called into existence in Mr.
Oakley's breast, by the unassuming and graceful goodness of the girl
he had undertaken to injure, fall flat before the strength of
interested rascality.
The wedding of Eleanor Meriton Baldwin presented a striking contrast
to that of her mother, which had excited so much contemptuous comment
among the "neighbours" in the old, old times at Chayleigh. People of
rank, wealth, and fashion assembled in gorgeous attire to behold the
ceremonial, which was rendered as stately and imposing as possible.
The dress of the bride was magnificent, and her beauty was the theme
of every tongue. The bridegroom was rather less insignificant than the
bridegroom generally is, and looked happy and contented; as well he
might look, the people said, getting such a fortune. Miss Baldwin's
own husband would not be so lucky in some respects; for this gentleman
might do as he pleased with Miss Nelly's money--she _would_ have it
so, and she could leave him the whole of it--whereas in Miss Baldwin's
case it would be different.
The wedding-guests were splendidly entertained; all agreed that the
whole affair had been exceptionally prosperous. The leave-taking
between the sisters was not witnessed by any intrusive eyes; and in
the final hurry and confusion no one noticed that Robert Meredith did
not shake hands with Miss Baldwin, that he spoke no word to her.
Gertrude noticed the omission, and with pain. It was over now, and she
would fain have made the best of it--have been friends with her
sister's husband, if he would have allowed her to be so. That he
should have been thus vindictive on his wedding-day, that he should
have had place in his heart for any thought of anger or ill-will,
boded evil to Eleanor's peace, her sister thought. But it never
occurred to her to fear that it might also bode evil to her own,
otherwise than through that sister whom she loved.
In Scottish fashion a ball wound up the festivities of the Deane, and
proved, in its turn, a successful entertainment. Miss Baldwin, indeed,
looked tired and pale; but that was only natural, after so much
excitement and the parting with her sister. The dreamy look that came
over her at times was easily explicable, without any one's being
likely to divine that the absence of one figure from that brilliant
crowd had anything to do with its origin. And yet, as the hours wore
on, Gertrude forgot the fresh pang the day had brought her--forgot
Meredith and her forebodings, forgot all save George Ritherdon and
that he was not there.
Three weeks had elapsed since Eleanor Baldwin's marriage. Mrs.
Carteret had received two short letters from the bride, but Mrs.
Meredith had not written to her sister. Mr. Oakley was still at the
Deane, where his presence had become exceedingly unpleasant not only
to Miss Baldwin, but to Major and Mrs. Carteret, to whom he had
dropped one or two hints relative to Meredith's character and probable
treatment of Eleanor, which had made them vaguely, though unavowedly,
uncomfortable. Gertrude was keenly distressed, and had found it
impossible to keep the knowledge of her trouble and its cause from Mr.
Dugdale. Some unnamed undefinable evil seemed to be brooding over the
Deane. It was not known exactly where the newly-married pair were.
Eleanor had given no address in her last letter, and Gertrude and Mrs.
Carteret (the latter most unwillingly) admitted that it seemed
constrained and strangely reticent.
The fourth week had begun, when one morning, as the family party were
dispersing after breakfast, a servant announced the arrival of a
gentleman from London, who desired to see Miss Baldwin on urgent
business. He placed a card in his mistresses hand as he delivered the
message.
"Mr. Sankey!" read Gertrude aloud; "I don't know the name. What can
his business be with me?"
"_I_ know the name," said Mr. Oakley hurriedly, "and I fear I know the
business he comes on too. Meredith has sent him.--Major Carteret, you
had better see this gentleman first--you had, indeed. Miss Baldwin
cannot be spared _much_; but do you come with me and see him, and let
us spare her all we can."