CHIEFLY PATERNAL.
The preparations for the wedding went on. Clarissa's headache did not
develop into a fever, and she had no excuse for flying from Hale Castle.
Her father, who had written Lady Laura Armstrong several courteous little
notes expressing his gratitude for her goodness to his child, surprised
Miss Lovel very much by appearing at the Castle one fine afternoon to make
a personal acknowledgment of his thankfulness. He consented to remain to
dinner, though protesting that he had not dined away from home--except at
his brother-in-law's--for a space of years.
"I am a confirmed recluse, my dear Lady Laura, a worn-out old bookworm,
with no better idea of enjoyment than a good fire and a favourite author,"
he said; "and I really feel myself quite unfitted for civilised society.
But you have a knack at commanding, and to hear is to obey; so if you
insist upon it, and will pardon my morning-dress, I remain."
Mr. Lovel's morning-dress was a suit of rather clerical-looking black from
a fashionable West-end tailor--a costume that would scarcely outrage the
proprieties of a patrician dinner-table.
"Clarissa shall show you the gardens between this and dinner-time,"
exclaimed Lady Laura. "It's an age since you've seen them, and I want to
know your opinion of my improvements. Besides, you must have so much to say
to her."
Clarissa blushed, remembering how very little her father ever had to say to
her of a confidential nature, but declared that she would be very pleased
to show him the gardens; so after a little more talk with my lady they set
out together.
"Well, Clary," Mr. Lovel began, with his kindest air, "you are making a
long stay of it."
"Too long, papa. I should be so glad to come home. Pray don't think me
ungrateful to Lady Laura, she is all goodness; but I am so tired of this
kind of life, and I do so long for the quiet of home."
"Tired of this kind of life! Did ever any one hear of such a girl! I really
think there are some people who would be tired of Paradise. Why, child,
it is the making of you to be here! If I were as rich as--as that fellow
Granger, for instance; confound Croesus!--I couldn't give you a better
chance. You must stay here as long as that good-natured Lady Laura likes
to have you; and I hope you'll have booked a rich husband before you come
home. I shall be very much disappointed if you haven't."
"I wish you would not talk in that way, papa; nothing would ever induce me
to marry for money."
"_For_ money; no, I suppose not," replied Mr. Lovel testily; "but you might
marry a man _with_ money. There's no reason that a rich man should be
inferior to the rest of his species. I don't find anything so remarkably
agreeable in poor men."
"I am not likely to marry foolishly, papa, or to offend you in that way,"
Clarissa answered with a kind of quiet firmness, which her father inwardly
execrated as "infernal obstinacy;" "but no money in the world would be the
faintest temptation to me."
"Humph! Wait till some Yorkshire squire offers you a thousand a year
pin-money; you'll change your tone then, I should hope. Have you seen
anything of that fellow Granger, by the way?"
"I have seen a good deal of Mr. and Miss Granger, papa. They have been
staying here for a fortnight, and are here now."
"You don't say so! Then I shall be linked into an intimacy with the fellow.
Well, it is best to be neighbourly, perhaps. And how do you like Mr.
Granger?"
"He is not a particularly unpleasant person, papa; rather stiff and
matter-of-fact, but not ungentlemanly; and he has been especially polite to
me, as if he pitied me for having lost Arden."
In a general way Mr. Lovel would have been inclined to protest against
being pitied, either in his own person or that of his belongings, by such a
man as Daniel Granger. But in his present humour it was not displeasing to
him to find that the owner of Arden Court had been especially polite to
Clarissa.
"Then he is really a nice fellow, this Granger, eh, Clary?" he said airily.
"I did not say nice, papa."
"No, but civil and good-natured, and that kind of thing. Do you know, I
hear nothing but praises of him about Arden; and he is really doing
wonders for the place. Looking at his work with an unjaundiced mind, it is
impossible to deny that. And then his wealth!--something enormous, they
tell me. How do you like the daughter, by the way?"
This question Mr. Lovel asked with something of a wry face, as if the
existence of Daniel Granger's daughter was not a pleasing circumstance in
his mind.
"Not particularly, papa. She is very good, I daresay, and seems anxious to
do good among the poor; and she is clever and accomplished, but she is not
a winning person. I don't think I could ever get on with her very well."
"That's a pity, since you are such near neighbours."
"But you have always avoided any acquaintance with the Grangers, papa,"
Clarissa said wonderingly.
"Yes, yes, naturally. I have shrunk from knowing people who have turned me
out of house and home, as it were. But that sort of thing must come to an
end sooner or later. I don't want to appear prejudiced or churlish; and in
short, though I may never care to cross that threshold, there is no reason
Miss Granger and you should not be friendly. You have no one at Arden of
your own age to associate with, and a companion of that kind might be
useful. Has the girl much influence with her father, do you think?"
"She is not a girl, papa, she is a young woman. I don't suppose she is more
than two or three-and-twenty, but no one would ever think of calling Miss
Granger a girl."
"You haven't answered my question."
"I scarcely know how to answer it. Mr. Granger seems kind to his daughter,
and she talks as if she had a great deal of influence over him; but one
does not see much of people's real feelings in a great house like this. It
is 'company' all day long. I daresay Mr. and Miss Granger are very fond of
one another, but--but--they are not so much to each other as I should like
you and me to be, papa," Clarissa added with a sudden boldness.
Mr. Lovel coughed, as if something had stuck in his throat.
"My dear child, I have every wish to treat you fairly--affectionately, that
is to say," he replied, after that little nervous cough; "but I am not a
man given to sentiment, you see, and there are circumstances in my life
which go far to excuse a certain coldness. So long as you do not ask too
much of me--in the way of sentiment, I mean--we shall get on very well, as
we have done since your return from school. I have had every reason to be
satisfied."
This was not much, but Clarissa was grateful even for so little.
"Thank you, papa," she said in a low voice; "I have been very anxious to
please you."
"Yes, my dear, and I hope--nay, am sure--that your future conduct will give
me the same cause for satisfaction; that you will act wisely, and settle
the more difficult questions of life like a woman of sense and resolution.
There are difficult questions to be solved in life, you know, Clary; and
woe betide the woman who lets her heart get the better of her head!"
Clarissa did not quite understand the drift of this remark, but her father
dismissed the subject in his lightest manner before she could express her
bewilderment.
"That's quite enough serious talk, my dear," he said; "and now give me the
_carte du pays_. Who is here besides these Grangers? and what little social
comedies are being enacted? Your letters, though very nice and dutiful, are
not quite up to the Horace-Walpole standard, and have not enlightened me
much about the state of things."
Clarissa ran over the names of the Castle guests. There was one which she
felt would be difficult to pronounce, but it must needs come at last. She
wound up her list with it: "And--and there are Lady Geraldine Challoner,
and the gentleman she is going to marry--Mr. Fairfax."
To her extreme surprise, the name seemed to awaken some unwonted emotion in
her father's breast.
"Fairfax!" he exclaimed; "what Fairfax is that? You didn't tell me whom
Lady Geraldine was to marry when you told me you were to officiate as
bridesmaid. Who is this Mr. Fairfax?"
"He has been in the army, papa, and has sold out. He is the heir to some
great estate called Lyvedon, which he is to inherit from an uncle."
"His son!" muttered Mr. Lovel.
"Do you know Mr. Fairfax, papa?"
"No, I do not know this young man. But I have known others--members of the
same family--and have a good reason for hating his name. He comes of a
false, unprincipled race. I am sorry for Lady Geraldine."
"He may not have inherited the faults of his family, papa."
"May not!" echoed Mr. Lovel contemptuously; "or may. I fancy these vices
run in the blood, child, and pass from father to son more surely than a
landed estate. To lie and betray came natural to the man I knew. Great
Heaven! I can see his false smile at this moment."
This was said in a low voice; not to Clarissa, but to himself; a
half-involuntary exclamation. He turned impatiently presently, and walked
hurriedly back towards the Castle.
"Let us go in," he said. "That name of Fairfax has set my teeth on edge."
"But you will not be uncivil to Mr. Fairfax, papa?" Clarissa asked
anxiously.
"Uncivil to him! No, of course not. The man is Lady Laura's guest, and a
stranger to me; why should I be uncivil to him?"
Nor would it have been possible to imagine by-and-by, when Mr. Lovel and
George Fairfax were introduced to each other, that the name of the younger
man was in any manner unpleasant to the elder. Clarissa's father had
evidently made up his mind to be agreeable, and was eminently successful
in the attempt. At the dinner-table he was really brilliant, and it was
a wonder to every one that a man who led a life of seclusion could shine
forth all at once with more than the success of a professed diner-out. But
it was to Mr. Granger that Marmaduke Lovel was most particularly gracious.
He seemed eager to atone, on this one occasion, for all former coldness
towards the purchaser of his estate. Nor was Daniel Granger slow to take
advantage of his urbane humour. For some reason or other, that gentleman
was keenly desirous of acquiring Mr. Lovel's friendship. It might be the
commoner's slavish worship of ancient race, it might be some deeper motive,
that influenced him, but about the fact itself there could be no doubt. The
master of Arden was eager to place his coverts, his park, his library, his
hot-houses, his picture-gallery--everything that he possessed--at the feet
of his ruined neighbour. Yet even in his eagerness to confer these benefits
there was some show of delicacy, and he was careful not to outrage the
fallen man's dignity.
Mr. Lovel listened, and bowed, and smiled; pledged himself to nothing;
waved off every offer with an airy grace that was all his own. A prime
minister, courted by some wealthy place-hunter, could not have had a
loftier air; and yet he contrived to make Mr. Granger feel that this was
the inauguration of a friendship between them; that he consented to the
throwing down of those barriers which had kept them apart hitherto.
"For myself, I am a hermit by profession," he said; "but I am anxious that
my daughter should have friends, and I do not think she could have a more
accomplished or agreeable companion than Miss Granger."
He glanced towards that young lady with a smile--almost a triumphant
smile--as he said this. She had been seated next him at dinner, and he had
paid her considerable attention--attention which had not been received
by her with quite that air of gratification which Mr. Lovel's graceful
compliments were apt to cause. He was not angry with her, however. He
contemplated her with a gentle indulgence, as an interesting study in human
nature.
"Well, Mr. Lovel," said Lady Laura in a confidential tone, when he was
wishing her good-night, "what do you think of Mr. Granger now?"
"I think he is a very excellent fellow, my dear Lady Laura; and that I am
to blame for having been so prejudiced against him."
"I am so glad to hear you say that!" cried my lady eagerly. She had drawn
him a little way apart from the rest of her visitors, out of earshot of the
animated groups of talkers clustered here and there. "And now I want to
know if you have made any great discovery?" she added, looking at him
triumphantly.
He responded to the look with a most innocent stare.
"A discovery, my dearest Lady Laura--you mystify me. What discovery is
there for me to make, except that Hale Castle is the most delightful place
to visit?--and that fact I knew beforehand, knowing its mistress."
"But is it possible that you have seen nothing--guessed nothing? And I
should have supposed you such a keen observer--such a profound judge of
human nature."
"One does not enlarge one's knowledge of human nature by being buried
amongst books as I have been. But seriously, Lady Laura, what is the answer
to the enigma--what ought I to have guessed, or seen?"
"Why, that Daniel Granger is desperately in love with your daughter."
"With Clarissa! Impossible! Why, the man is old enough to be her father."
"Now, my dear Mr. Lovel, you know that is _no_ reason against it. I tell
you the thing is certain--palpable to any one who has had some experience
in such matters, as I have. I wanted to bring this about; I had set my
heart upon it before Clarissa came here, but I did not think it would be
accomplished so easily. There is no doubt about his feelings, my dear
Mr. Lovel; I know the man thoroughly, and I never saw him pay any woman
attention before. Perhaps the poor fellow is scarcely conscious of his own
infatuation yet, but the fact is no less certain. He has betrayed himself
to me ever so many times by little speeches he has let fall about our dear
Clary. I think even the daughter begins to see it."
"And what then, my kind friend?" asked Mr. Lovel with an air of supreme
indifference. "Suppose this fancy of yours to be correct, do you think
Clarissa would marry the man?"
"I do not think she would be so foolish as to refuse him," Lady Laura
answered quickly; "unless there were some previous infatuation on her
side."
"You need have no apprehension of that," returned Mr. Lovel sharply.
"Clarissa has never had the opportunity for so much as a flirtation."
Lady Laura remembered that scene on the balcony with a doubtful feeling.
"I hope she would have some regard for her own interest," she said
thoughtfully. "And if such an opportunity as this were to present
itself--as I feel very sure it will--I hope your influence would be exerted
on the right side."
"My dear Lady Laura, my influence should be exercised in any manner you
desired," replied Mr. Lovel eagerly. "You have been so good to that poor
friendless girl, that you have a kind of right to dispose of her fate.
Heaven forbid that I should interfere with any plans you may have formed on
her behalf, except to promote them."
"It is so good of you to say that. I really am so fond of my dear Clary,
and it would so please me to see her make a great marriage, such as this
would be. If Mr. Granger were not a good man, if it were a mere question
of money, I would not urge it for a moment; but he really is in every
way unexceptionable, and if you will give me your permission to use my
influence with Clary----"
"My dear Lady Laura, as a woman, as a mother, you are the fittest judge
of what is best for the girl. I leave her in your hands with entire
confidence; and if you bring this marriage about, I shall say Providence
has been good to us. Yes, I confess I should like to see my daughter
mistress of Arden Court."
Almost as he spoke, there arose before him a vision of what his own
position would be if this thing should come to pass. Was it really worth
wishing for at best? Never again could he be master of the home of his
forefathers. An honoured visitor perhaps, or a tolerated inmate--that was
all. Still, it would be something to have his daughter married to a rich
man. He had a growing, almost desperate need of some wealthy friend who
should stretch out a saving hand between him and his fast-accumulating
difficulties; and who so fitted for this office as a son-in-law? Yes, upon
the whole, the thing was worth wishing for.
He bade Lady Laura good-night, declaring that this brief glimpse of the
civilised world had been strangely agreeable to him. He even promised to
stay at the Castle again before long, and so departed, after kissing his
daughter almost affectionately, in a better humour with himself and mankind
than had been common to him lately.
"So that is young Fairfax," he said to himself as he jogged slowly homeward
in the Arden fly, the single vehicle of that kind at the disposal of the
village gentility; "so that is the son of Temple Fairfax. There is a look
of his father in his eyes, but not that look of wicked power in his face
that there was in the Colonel's--not that thorough stamp of a bold bad man.
It will come, I suppose, in good time."
* * * * *