CERTES, c'est un grand cas, Icas,
Que toujours tracas ou fracas
Vous faites d'une ou d'autre sort;
C'est le diable qui vous emporte!*--VOITURE.
* "Certes, it is the fact, Icas, that you are always engaged in
tricks or scrapes of some sort or other; it must be the devil
that bewitches you."
LORD VARGRAVE had passed the night of the ball and the following morning
at Knaresdean. It was necessary to bring the counsels of the scheming
conclave to a full and definite conclusion; and this was at last
effected. Their strength numbered, friends and foes alike canvassed and
considered, and due account taken of the waverers to be won over, it
really did seem, even to the least sanguine, that the Saxingham or
Vargrave party was one that might well aspire either to dictate to, or to
break up, a government. Nothing now was left to consider but the
favourable hour for action. In high spirits, Lord Vargrave returned
about the middle of the day to the rectory.
"So," thought he, as he reclined in his carriage,--"so, in politics, the
prospect clears as the sun breaks out. The party I have espoused is one
that must be the most durable, for it possesses the greatest property and
the most stubborn prejudice--what elements for Party! All that I now
require is a sufficient fortune to back my ambition. Nothing can clog my
way but these cursed debts, this disreputable want of gold. And yet
Evelyn alarms me! Were I younger, or had I not made my position too
soon, I would marry her by fraud or by force,--run off with her to
Gretna, and make Vulcan minister to Plutus. But this would never do at
my years, and with my reputation. A pretty story for the newspapers,
d-----n them! Well, nothing venture, nothing have; I will brave the
hazard! Meanwhile, Doltimore is mine; Caroline will rule him, and I rule
her. His vote and his boroughs are something,--his money will be more
immediately useful: I must do him the honour to borrow a few
thousands,--Caroline must manage that for me. The fool is miserly,
though a spendthrift; and looked black when I delicately hinted the other
day that I wanted a friend--_id est_, a loan! money and friendship same
thing,--distinction without a difference!" Thus cogitating, Vargrave
whiled away the minutes till his carriage stopped at Mr. Merton's door.
As he entered the hall he met Caroline, who had just quitted her own
room.
"How lucky I am that you have on your bonnet! I long for a walk with you
round the lawn."
"And I, too, am glad to see you, Lord Vargrave," said Caroline, putting
her arm in his.
"Accept my best congratulations, my own sweet friend," said Vargrave,
when they were in the grounds. "You have no idea how happy Doltimore is.
He came to Knaresdean yesterday to communicate the news, and his
neckcloth was primmer than ever. C'est un bon enfant."
"Ah, how can you talk thus? Do you feel no pain at the thought
that--that I am another's?"
"Your heart will be ever mine,--and that is the true fidelity. What
else, too, could be done? As for Lord Doltimore, we will go shares in
him. Come, cheer thee, _m'amie_; I rattle on thus to keep up your
spirits. Do not fancy I am happy!"
Caroline let fall a few tears; but beneath the influence of Vargrave's
sophistries and flatteries, she gradually recovered her usual hard and
worldly tone of mind.
"And where is Evelyn?" asked Vargrave. "Do you know, the little witch
seemed to be half mad the night of the ball. Her head was turned; and
when she sat next me at supper, she not only answered every question I
put to her _a tort et a travers_, but I fancied every moment she was
going to burst out crying. Can you tell what was the matter with her?"
"She was grieved to hear that I was to be married to the man I do not
love. Ah, Vargrave, she has more heart than you have!"
"But she never fancies that you love me?" asked Lumley, in alarm. "You
women are so confoundedly confidential!"
"No, she does not suspect our secret."
"Then I scarcely think your approaching marriage was a sufficient cause
for so much distraction."
"Perhaps she may have overheard some of the impertinent whispers about
her mother,--'Who was Lady Vargrave?' and 'What Cameron was Lady
Vargrave's first husband?' _I_ overheard a hundred such vulgar
questions; and provincial people whisper so loud."
"Ah, that is a very probable solution of the mystery; and for my part, I
am almost as much puzzled as any one else can be to know who Lady
Vargrave was!"
"Did not your uncle tell you?"
"He told me that she was of no very elevated birth and station,--nothing
more; and she herself, with her quiet, say-nothing manner, slips through
all my careless questionings like an eel. She is still a beautiful
creature, more regularly handsome than even Evelyn; and old Templeton had
a very sweet tooth at the back of his head, though he never opened his
mouth wide enough to show it."
"She must ever at least have been blameless, to judge by an air which,
even now, is more like that of a child than a matron."
"Yes; she has not much of the widow about her, poor soul! But her
education, except in music, has not been very carefully attended to; and
she knows about as much of the world as the Bishop of Autun (better known
as Prince Talleyrand) knows of the Bible. If she were not so simple, she
would be silly; but silliness is never simple,--always cunning; however,
there is some cunning in her keeping her past Cameronian Chronicles so
close. Perhaps I may know more about her in a short time, for I intend
going to C-----, where my uncle once lived, in order to see if I can
revive under the rose--since peers are only contraband
electioneerers--his old parliamentary influence in that city: and they
may tell me more there than I now know."
"Did the late lord marry at C-----?"
"No; in Devonshire. I do not even know if Mrs. Cameron ever was at
C-----."
"You must be curious to know who the father of your intended wife was?"
"Her father! No; I have no curiosity in that quarter. And, to tell you
the truth, I am much too busy about the Present to be raking into that
heap of rubbish we call the Past. I fancy that both your good
grandmother and that comely old curate of Brook-Green know everything
about Lady Vargrave; and, as they esteem her so much, I take it for
granted she is _sans tache_."
"How could I be so stupid! _A propos_ of the curate, I forgot to tell
you that he is here. He arrived about two hours ago, and has been
closeted with Evelyn ever since!"
"The deuce! What brought the old man hither?"
"That I know not. Papa received a letter from him yesterday morning, to
say that he would be here to-day. Perhaps Lady Vargrave thinks it time
for Evelyn to return home."
"What am I to do?" said Vargrave, anxiously. "Dare I yet venture to
propose?"
"I am sure it will be in vain, Vargrave. You must prepare for
disappointment."
"And ruin," muttered Vargrave, gloomily. "Hark you, Caroline, she may
refuse me if she pleases. But I am not a man to be baffled. Have her I
will, by one means or another; revenge urges me to it almost as much as
ambition. That girl's thread of life has been the dark line in my woof;
she has robbed me of fortune, she now thwarts me in my career, she
humbles me in my vanity. But, like a hound that has tasted blood, I will
run her down, whatever winding she takes."
"Vargrave, you terrify me! Reflect; we do not live in an age when
violence--"
"Tush!" interrupted Lumley, with one of those dark looks which at times,
though very rarely, swept away all its customary character from that
smooth, shrewd countenance. "Tush! We live in an age as favourable to
intellect and to energy as ever was painted in romance. I have that
faith in fortune and myself that I tell you, with a prophet's voice, that
Evelyn shall fulfil the wish of my dying uncle. But the bell summons us
back."
On returning to the house, Lord Vargrave's valet gave him a letter which
had arrived that morning. It was from Mr. Gustavus Douce, and ran
thus:--
FLEET STREET, ----- 20, 18--.
MY LORD,--It is with the greatest regret that I apprise you, for Self &
Co., that we shall not be able in the present state of the Money Market
to renew your Lordship's bill for 10,000 pounds, due the 28th instant.
Respectfully calling your Lordship's attention to the same, I have the
honour to be, for Self & Co., my Lord,
Your Lordship's most obedient and most obliged humble servant,
GUSTAVUS DOUCE.
To the Right Hon. LORD VARGRAVE, etc.
This letter sharpened Lord Vargrave's anxiety and resolve; nay, it seemed
almost to sharpen his sharp features as he muttered sundry denunciations
on Messrs. Douce and Co., while arranging his neckcloth at the glass.