The heart, surrendered to the ruling power
Of some ungoverned passion every hour,
Finds, by degrees, the truths that once bore sway
And all their deep impression wear away:
So coin grows smooth in traffic current passed,
Till Caesar's image is effaced at last.
Cowper.
The mistress of Pendarrel Hall never visited it without experiencing a
renewal of many an ancient spring of grief. There were not a few spots
in the park, sequestered from the more frequented paths, which she could
not look upon without bitter regret, yet which she was always sure to
explore within a few days of her arrival, so much of pensive pleasure
mingled with the pain. But the influence of such reminiscences was of
short duration, and the temporary weakness was soon succeeded by that
permanent animosity to the owners of Trevethlan Castle, which had become
the ruling passion of her life. She would climb an eminence in the
neighbourhood, from which the old gray towers were visible, and think,
with fresh exasperation, of the obstinacy or the pride which still
detained them from her grasp.
But now she came to her home, with a fond belief that the enemy was at
last delivered into her hand. Previously, there seemed no limit to the
contention. Now, a few weeks must decide it. Michael Sinson had returned
to town before the departure of his patroness, had matured his plans,
had obtained her sanction to carrying them out, and had been introduced
by her husband to his highly-respected solicitor, Mr. Truby. That
gentleman could only assure his client, after a careful perusal of
Sinson's statement, that, if it did not break down in court, there could
be no doubt whatever that Mr. Randolph Trevethlan would be held to be an
intruder upon the castle property, and that immediate possession would
be given to him, Mr. Trevethlan Pendarrel. And, as Michael vouched for
the perfect soundness of his evidence, Mr. Truby received directions to
commence proceedings forthwith. "Let the suit be pressed forward," Mrs.
Pendarrel said, "with the utmost possible despatch."
That matter settled, she left London with her daughter; her husband
gladly making his official duties a plea for remaining in May Fair. Yet
Esther was not altogether at her ease. Plain and straightforward as was
Sinson's story, and completely as it destroyed the validity of the late
Mr. Trevethlan's marriage, she still suspected there was some unseen
flaw. She often thought of Mr. Truby's qualification--if the case did
not break down in court. Who was this very important witness that Sinson
had so opportunely discovered? And then, as the notion of fraud stole
into her mind, she asked herself, what would be the motive; with what
object could Sinson have devised his scheme? And again she questioned
herself, with some alarm, as to the extent to which she had authorized
the proceedings of her protege. She had communicated with him once or
twice by letter. And the uneasiness expressed in these reflections was
somewhat increased by Michael's recent demeanour. He wore a look of
intelligence, and assumed an air of importance, seeming to discover a
consciousness of some hidden power. A sense of superiority appeared to
mingle with his fawning subserviency, such as might mark the carriage of
Luke in Massinger's play. But Mrs. Pendarrel soon wrapped herself in her
pride, and forgot all her suspicions.
To be sure, that pride rather revolted from the mode of proceeding. An
action-at-law was but a bad substitute for a raid of the olden time. The
bailiff with a slip of parchment was an indifferent representative of a
"plump of spears." The court was but a poor arena, compared to the
lists. But for this there was no help. The inconvenient civilization of
modern times precluded a resort to that picturesque method of settling
the question. And Mrs. Pendarrel owned to herself that her husband was
but ill-qualified to head a foray. She recollected the pretences by
which he had obtained her hand, and confessed that he would cut a bitter
figure in "Doe on the demise of Pendarrel against Trevethlan," than in a
cartel of mortal defiance.
Yet had she good cause to tremble. She had only discerned one-half of
Sinson's character, his malice against the Trevethlans. She employed him
in a manner which gratified that feeling, and she supposed her pecuniary
favours were sufficient to make him her own. But he was far from being a
slave, like an eastern mute, or a messenger of the Vehm-Gericht, who
would answer in humble submission, "to hear is to obey:" he had his own
game to play beside that of his mistress, and well would it be for her
if she did not lose more than she won by his cunning finesse.
His disposition had been nourished by his whole life. His early years
were spent in the most abject servility. He fawned upon his young
cousin, the heir of Trevethlan, like a spaniel. To obtain his
partiality, and to be admitted to his society, he was ready to lick the
dust under his feet. And at the same time he thought, or was persuaded
by his grandmother, that the ties of blood made such distinction a
matter of right rather than of favour. So very early in life he acquired
ideas much above his real station, and pined for a position for which he
was not born.
When Randolph's father ejected the young rustic from the castle, this
aspiring ambition seemed to be nipped in the bud. The disappointment was
very severe, and his fanatical grandmother changed it into hatred.
Having been urgent in inducing her daughter to accept the offered
elevation, she heard of the treatment portrayed in poor Margaret's
fading cheek with wrath, and regarded her death as a murder to be
avenged. So she trained Michael as the instrument of retribution, and
made his personal spite the basis of a deep-rooted animosity against all
the house of Trevethlan.
With such feelings he presented himself to Mrs. Pendarrel, and was
received into her service. And well pleased he was to find that his
first duties implied more or less of hostility towards his former
playmate. He entered upon the task with a zeal inspired by hatred. The
departure of the orphans from their home seemed to deprive him of his
occupation, but in fact widened its sphere. The summons to London
extended the bounds of the young peasant's ambition. He had profited
well by the early instructions of Polydore Riches; he was of good
figure, with a handsome, if unprepossessing face; a short residence in
the metropolis changed his rusticity into assurance; and his natural
abilities qualified him to play many parts, and in some degree to seem a
gentleman.
His progress was quickened by the glimpse he caught of Miss Pendarrel at
his first arrival in town. It developed a series of sensations in his
mind, only partially excited before by the rural charms of Mercy Page,
and made him feel the inferiority of his station with tenfold
bitterness. He thought vaguely of Sir Richard Whittington and Sir Ralph
Osborne, and longed for the opportunity of making a rapid fortune. With
this idea, he bought a ticket in the lottery.
And as he advanced in the confidence of his patroness, a new prospect
opened before him. He fancied he saw the means of obtaining a control
over her, by which he could bend her to his will, whenever the time
came. So that he reached his end, he cared not for the road. And in this
case every passion of his heart concurred in urging him forward.
Circumstances favoured his desires even beyond his expectations, and the
period was approaching to strike the final blow.
Sinson's connection with the wretched spendthrift, Everope, has already
been traced. He destined that individual to play an important part in
his plot. The miserable man hung back at every step, and ended by
clearing it. Michael's money supplied him with dissipation, and in
dissipation he drowned remorse. But the trip into the country nearly
rescued him from his betrayer's clutches; it had given him time for
reflection such as he had not had for many a day; and when on their
return, Sinson laid open his further demands, he encountered a
resistance so obstinate that he almost thought his previous labour had
been thrown away. But threats and temptations did their work, and
Everope finally agreed to take the step, which Sinson promised should be
the last required of him. And now Michael remained in town, instead of
at once accompanying his patroness to Pendarrel, in order to furnish Mr.
Truby with information, and to take heed that his reluctant dupe did not
slip through his fingers.
The second week in February had scarcely begun, when Esther arrived in
Cornwall. Well might Gertrude warn Mildred that she underrated the
difficulties of her position. Mrs. Pendarrel treated her with the most
tender consideration, but with great art made her constantly feel that
the marriage was a settled thing, without ever affording her an
opportunity of protesting. Her assent was continually implied, yet in
such a way that she could not contradict the inference. Her situation
became embarrassing and irksome. It was ungenerous, she thought, to take
such an advantage of maidenly scruples. She felt that a web was being
spun round her, reducing her to a sort of chrysalis, from which it was
every day harder to escape, but from which she was resolved a fly should
issue, by no means like what was expected.
For she entertained no fear about the final result. If her mother chose
to go on, wilfully blind, from day to day, without permitting her eyes
to be opened, on her must rest the blame of any eclat. The remembrance
of her cousin was deeply imprinted on her heart, and sustained its
courage. Night after night, before retiring to rest, she drew aside the
curtains of her window to look for the bright planet which he had
associated with his destiny, saddened when it was hidden by clouds or
dimmed by mist, happy when its rays beamed pure and clear into her
chamber.
There were no guests staying at the hall, but numbers of casual visitors
called to pay their respects, and hoped perhaps for an invitation to the
wedding. And notes, of all shapes and sizes, requested the honour ... at
dinner and at dance. And a gay life would Mildred's have been, but that
she was so pre-occupied. For her mother accepted nearly all the
proffered hospitality, and returned it with liberal profusion. And at
every one of these festive meetings, Mildred could see that in the
compliments Mrs. Pendarrel received, and in her furtive and complacent
answers, she had no small portion.
One source of comfort she had, that Melcomb was not in the country. She
had not to endure his odious addresses. But her mother had issued cards
for a grand entertainment at rather a distant date, when she hoped to
crowd her house with everybody who was the least presentable in all West
Kerrier, and to that high festival Mildred feared he would come, an
undesired guest, and be in some way exhibited as her accepted suitor to
the assembled multitude. But the day was yet far off.
And it was with pleasure she learnt that Randolph and his sister had
returned to their ancestral home. Much speculation was afloat concerning
them; and though people generally knew the family disagreement, and
refrained from alluding to them in Mrs. Pendarrel's presence, slight
hints fell inadvertently at times; and some mean minds, little knowing
the nature of her they addressed, uttered a passing sarcasm upon their
poverty, with the notion that it would be agreeable. But to Mildred the
mere mention of their name was a source of interest; and in her rural
walks she would sometimes inquire concerning them of the country folk,
and speculate on the possibility of meeting Randolph on her way.
To her mother their presence was not equally agreeable. She was far from
anxious for any such rencontre. She too well remembered the emotion
displayed by Mildred at Mrs. Winston's. She learnt, with regret, that
the orphans did not lead so absolutely sequestered a life as before
their father's death; but availed themselves of the removal of the
restriction which then confined their walks to the precincts of the
castle and the sea coast, and made themselves in some measure acquainted
with the wild scenery surrounding their native bay. She did not like the
idea of being so near them, just at the time when Sinson's machinations
were about to explode. And with a different interest she heard of the
state of feeling manifested pretty openly by the tenantry of Trevethlan,
and desired her protege to come to Pendarrel as soon as he should be
released from attendance on Mr. Truby. She wished to have more precise
information of what passed in the castle and its dependent hamlet, and
summoned her retainer to resume his original occupation.