LIONEL'S PRAYER FOR FORGIVENESS.
Lady Verner, like many more of us, found that misfortunes do not come
singly. Coeval almost with that great misfortune, Lionel's marriage--at
any rate, coeval with his return to Verner's Pride with his
bride--another vexation befell Lady Verner. Had Lady Verner found real
misfortunes to contend with, it is hard to say how she would have borne
them. Perhaps Lionel's marriage to Sibylla was a real misfortune; but
this second vexation assuredly was not--at any rate to Lady Verner.
Some women--and Lady Verner was one--are fond of scheming and planning.
Whether it be the laying out of a flower-bed, or the laying out of a
marriage, they must plan and project. Disappointment with regard to her
own daughter--for Decima most unqualifyingly disclaimed any match-making
on her own score--Lady Verner had turned her hopes in this respect on
Lucy Tempest. She deemed that she should be ill-fulfilling the
responsibilities of her guardianship, unless when Colonel Tempest
returned to England, she could present Lucy to him a wife, or, at least,
engaged to be one. Many a time now did she unavailingly wish that Lionel
had chosen Lucy, instead of her whom he had chosen. Although--and mark
how we estimate things by comparison--when, in the old days, Lady Verner
had fancied Lionel was growing to like Lucy, she had told him
emphatically it "would not do." Why would it not do? Because, in the
estimation of Lady Verner, Lucy Tempest was less desirable in a social
point of view than the Earl of Elmsley's daughter, and upon the latter
lady had been fixed her hopes for Lionel.
All that was past and gone. Lady Verner had seen the fallacy of
sublunary hopes and projects. Lady Mary Elmsley was rejected--Lionel had
married in direct defiance of everybody's advice--and Lucy was open to
offers. Open to offers, as Lady Verner supposed; but she was destined to
find herself unpleasantly disappointed.
One came forward with an offer to her. And that was no other than the
Earl of Elmsley's son, Viscount Garle. A pleasant man, of
eight-and-twenty years; and he was often at Lady Verner's. He had been
intimate there a long while, going in and out as unceremoniously as did
Lionel or Jan. Lady Verner and Decima could tell a tale that no one else
suspected. How, in the years gone by--some four or five years ago
now--he had grown to love Decima with his whole heart; and Decima had
rejected him. In spite of his sincere love; of the advantages of the
match; of the angry indignation of Lady Verner; Decima had steadfastly
rejected him. For some time Lord Garle would not take the rejection; but
one day, when my lady was out, Decima spoke with him privately for five
minutes, and from that hour Lord Garle had known there was no hope; had
been content to begin there and then, and strive to love her only as a
sister. The little episode was never known; Decima and Lady Verner had
kept counsel, and Lord Garle had not told tales of himself. Next to
Lionel, Lady Verner liked Lord Garle better than any one--ten times
better than she liked unvarnished Jan; and he was allowed the run of the
house as though he had been its son. The first year of Lucy's
arrival--the year of Lionel's illness, Lord Garle had been away from the
neighbourhood; but somewhere about the time of Sibylla's return, he had
come back to it. Seeing a great deal of Lucy, as he necessarily did,
being so much at Lady Verner's, he grew to esteem and love her. Not with
the same love he had borne for Decima--a love, such as that, never comes
twice in a lifetime--but with a love sufficiently warm, notwithstanding.
And he asked her to become his wife.
_There_ was triumph for Lady Verner! Next to Decima--and all hope of
that was dead for ever--she would like Lord Garle to marry Lucy. A real
triumph, the presenting her to Colonel Tempest on his return, my Lady
Viscountess Garle! In the delight of her heart she betrayed something of
this to Lucy.
"But I am not going to marry him, Lady Verner," objected Lucy.
"You are not going to marry him, Lucy? He confided to me the fact of his
intention this morning before he spoke to you. He _has_ spoken to you,
has he not?"
"Yes," replied Lucy; "but I cannot accept him."
"You--cannot! What are you talking of?" cried Lady Verner.
"Please not to be angry, Lady Verner! I could not marry Lord Garle."
Lady Verner's lips grew pale. "And pray why can you not?" she demanded.
"I--don't like him," stammered Lucy.
"Not like him!" repeated Lady Verner. "Why, what can there be about Lord
Garle that you young ladies do not like?" she wondered; her thoughts
cast back to the former rejection by Decima. "He is good-looking, he is
sensible; there's not so attractive a man in all the county, Lionel
Verner excepted."
Lucy's face turned to a fiery glow. "Had I known he was going to ask me,
I would have requested him not to do so beforehand, as my refusal has
displeased you," she simply said. "I am sorry you should be vexed with
me, Lady Verner."
"It appears to me that nothing but vexation is to be the portion of my
life!" uttered Lady Verner. "Thwarted--thwarted always!--on all sides.
First the one, then the other--nothing but crosses and vexations! What
did you say to Lord Garle?"
"I told Lord Garle that I could not marry him; that I should never like
him well enough--for he said, if I did not care for him now, I might
later. But I told him no; it was impossible. I like him very well as a
friend, but that is all."
"_Why_ don't you like him?" repeated Lady Verner.
"I don't know," whispered Lucy, standing before Lady Verner like a
culprit, her eyes cast down, and her eyelashes resting on her hot
crimsoned face.
"Do you _both_ mean to make yourselves into old maids, you and Decima?"
reiterated the angry Lady Verner. "A pretty pair of you I shall have on
my hands! I never was so annoyed in all my life."
Lucy burst into tears. "I wish I could go to papa in India!" she said.
"Do you know what you have rejected?" asked Lady Verner. "You would have
been a peeress of England. His father will not live for ever."
"But I should not care to be a peeress," sobbed Lucy. "And I don't like
him."
"Mamma, please do not say any more," pleaded Decima. "Lucy is not to
blame. If she does not like Lord Garle she could not accept him."
"Of course she is not to blame--according to you, Miss Verner! You were
not to blame, were you, when you rejected--some one we knew of? Not the
least doubt that you will take her part! Young Bitterworth wished to
have proposed to you; you sent him away--as you send all--and refuse to
tell me your motive! Very dutiful you are, Decima!"
Decima turned away her pale face. She began to think Lucy would do
better without her advocacy than with it.
"I cannot allow it to end thus," resumed Lady Verner to Lucy. "You must
reconsider your determination and recall Lord Garle."
The words frightened Lucy.
"I never can--I never can, Lady Verner!" she cried. "Please not to press
it; it is of no use."
"I must press it," replied Lady Verner. "I cannot allow you to throw
away your future prospects in this childish manner. How should I answer
for it to Colonel Tempest?"
She swept out of the room as she concluded, and Lucy, in an
uncontrollable fit of emotion, threw herself on the bosom of Decima, and
sobbed there. Decima hushed her to her soothingly, stroking her hair
from her forehead with a fond gesture.
"What is it that has grieved you lately, Lucy?" she gently asked. "I am
sure you have been grieving. I have watched you. Gay as you appear to
have been, it is a false gaiety, seen only by fits and starts."
Lucy moved her face from the view of Decima. "Oh, Decima! if I could but
go back to papa!" was all she murmured. "If I could but go away, and be
with papa!"
This little episode had taken place the day that Lionel Verner and his
wife returned. On the following morning Lady Verner renewed the contest
with Lucy. And they were deep in it--at least my lady was, for Lucy's
chief part was only a deprecatory silence, when Lionel arrived at
Deerham Court, to pay that visit to his mother which you have heard of.
"I insist upon it, Lucy, that you recall your unqualified denial," Lady
Verner was saying. "If you will not accept Lord Garle immediately, at
any rate take time for consideration. I will inform Lord Garle that you
do it by my wish."
"I cannot," replied Lucy in a firm, almost a vehement tone. "I--you must
not be angry with me, Lady Verner--indeed, I beg your pardon for saying
it--but I will not."
"How dare you, Lucy--"
Her ladyship stopped at the sudden opening of the door, turning angrily
to see what caused the interruption. Her servant appeared.
"Mr. Verner, my lady."
How handsome he looked as he came forward! Tall, noble, commanding.
Never more so; never so much so in Lucy's sight. Poor Lucy's heart was
in her mouth, as the saying runs, and her pulses quickened to a pang.
She did not know of his return.
He bent to kiss his mother. He turned and shook hands with Lucy. He
looked gay, animated, happy. A joyous bridegroom, beyond doubt.
"So you have reached home, Lionel?" said Lady Verner.
"At ten last night. How well you are looking, mother mine!"
"I am flushed just now," was the reply of Lady Verner, her accent a
somewhat sharp one from the remembrance of the vexation which had given
her the flush. "How is Paris looking? Have you enjoyed yourself?"
"Paris is looking hot and dusty, and we have enjoyed ourselves much,"
replied Lionel. He answered in the plural, you observe; my lady had put
the question in the singular. Where is Decima?"
"Decima is sure to be at some work or other for Jan," was the answer,
the asperity of Lady Verner's tone not decreasing. "He turns the house
nearly upside down with his wants. Now a pan of broth must be made for
some wretched old creature; now a jug of beef tea; now a bran poultice
must be got; now some linen cut up for bandages. Jan's excuse is that he
can't get anything done at Dr. West's. If he is doctor to the parish, he
need not be purveyor; but you may just as well speak to a post as speak
to Jan. What do you suppose he did the other day? Those improvident
Kellys had their one roomful of things taken from them by their
landlord. Jan went there--the woman's ill with a bad breast, or
something--and found her lying on the bare boards; nothing to cover her,
not a saucepan left to boil a drop of water. Off he comes here at the
pace of a steam engine, got an old blanket and pillow from Catherine,
and a tea-kettle from the kitchen. Now, Lionel, would you believe what I
am going to tell you? No! No one would. He made the pillow and blanket
into a bundle, and walked off with it under his arm; the kettle--never
so much as a piece of paper wrapped round it--in his other hand! I felt
ready to faint with shame when I saw him crossing the road opposite,
that spectacle, to get to Clay Lane, the kettle held out a yard before
him to keep the black off his clothes. He never could have been meant to
be your brother and my son!"
Lucy laughed at the recollection. She had had the pleasure of beholding
the spectacle. Lionel laughed now at the description. Their mirth did
not please Lady Verner. She was serious in her complaint.
"Lionel, you would not have liked it yourself. Fancy his turning out of
Verner's Pride in that guise, and encountering visitors! I don't know
how it is, but there's some deficiency in Jan; something wanting. You
know he generally chooses to come here by the back door: this day,
because he had got the black kettle in his hand like a travelling
tinker, he must go out by the front. He did! It saved him a few steps,
and he went out without a blush. Out of my house, Lionel! Nobody ever
lived, I am certain, who possessed so little innate notion of the
decencies of life as Jan. Had he met a carriage full of visitors in the
courtyard, he would have swung the kettle back on his arm, and gone up
to shake hands with them. I had the nightmare that night, Lionel. I
dreamt a tall giant was pursuing me, seeking to throw some great machine
at me, made of tea-kettles."
"Jan is an odd fellow," assented Lionel.
"The worst is, you can't bring him to see, himself, what is proper or
improper," resumed Lady Verner. "He has no sense of the fitness of
things. He would go as unblushingly through the village with that black
kettle held out before him, as he would if it were her Majesty's crown,
borne on a velvet cushion."
"I am not sure but the crown would embarrass Jan more than the kettle,"
said Lionel, laughing still.
"Oh, I dare say; it would be just like him. Have you heard of the
disgraceful flitting away of some of the inhabitants here to go after
the Mormons?" added my lady.
"Jan has been telling me of it. What with one thing and another, Deerham
will rise into notoriety. Nancy has gone from Verner's Pride."
"Poor deluded woman!" ejaculated Lady Verner.
"There's a story told in the village about that Peckaby's wife--Decima
can tell it best, though. I wonder where she is?"
Lucy rose. "I will go and find her, Lady Verner."
No sooner had she quitted the room, than Lady Verner turned to Lionel,
her manner changing. She began to speak rapidly, with some emotion.
"You observed that I looked well, Lionel. I told you I was flushed. The
flush was caused by vexation, by anger. Not a week passes but something
or other occurs to annoy me. I shall be worried into my grave."
"What has happened?" inquired Lionel.
"It is about Lucy Tempest. Here she is, upon my hands, and of course I
am responsible. She has no mother, and I am responsible to Colonel
Tempest and to my own conscience for her welfare. She will soon be
twenty years of age--though I am sure nobody would believe it, to look
at her--and it is time that her settlement in life should, at all
events, be thought of. But now, look how things turn out! Lord
Garle--than whom a better _parti_ could not be wished--has fallen in
love with her. He made her an offer yesterday, and she won't have him."
"Indeed!" replied Lionel, constrained to say something, but wishing Lady
Verner would entertain him with any other topic.
"We had quite a scene here yesterday. Indeed, it has been renewed this
morning, and your coming in interrupted it. I tell her that she must
have him: at any rate, must take time to consider the advantages of the
offer. She obstinately protests that she will not. I cannot think what
can be her motive for rejection; almost any girl in the county would
jump at Lord Garle."
"I suppose so," returned Lionel, pulling at a hole in his glove.
"I must get you to speak to her, Lionel. Ask her why she declines. Show
her--"
"I speak to her!" interrupted Lionel in a startled tone. "I cannot speak
to her about it, mother. It is no business of mine."
"Good heavens, Lionel! are _you_ going to turn disobedient?--And in so
trifling-a matter as this!--trifling so far as you are concerned. Were
it of vital importance to you, you might run counter to me; it is only
what I should expect."
This was a stab at his marriage. Lionel replied by disclaiming any
influence over Miss Tempest. "Where your arguments have failed, mine
would not be likely to succeed."
"Then you are mistaken, Lionel. I am certain that you hold a very great
influence over Lucy. I observed it first when you were ill, when she and
Decima were so much with you. She has betrayed it in a hundred little
ways; her opinions are formed upon yours; your tastes unconsciously bias
hers. It is only natural. She has no brother, and no doubt has learned
to regard you as one."
Lionel hoped in his inmost heart that she did regard him only as a
brother. Lady Verner continued--
"A word from you may have great effect upon her; and I desire, Lionel,
that you will, in your duty to me, undertake that word. Point out to her
the advantages of the match; tell her that you speak to her as her
father; urge her to accept Lord Garle; or, as I say, not to summarily
reject him without consideration, upon the childish plea that she 'does
not like him.' She was terribly agitated last night; nearly went into
hysterics, Decima tells me, after I left her; all her burden being that
she wished she could go away to India."
"Mother--you know how pleased I should be to obey any wish of yours; but
this is really not a proper business for me to interfere with," urged
Lionel, a red spot upon his cheek.
"Why is it not?" pointedly asked Lady Verner, looking hard at him and
waiting for an answer.
"I do not deem it to be so. Neither would Lucy consider my interference
justifiable."
"But, Lionel, you take up wrong notions! I wish you to speak in my
place, just as if you were her father; in short, acting for her father.
As to what Lucy may consider or not consider in the matter, that is of
very little consequence. Lucy is so perfectly unsophisticated, so simple
in her ideas, that were I to desire my maid Therese to give her a
lecture, she would receive it as something proper."
"I should be most unwilling to----"
"Hold your tongue, Lionel. You must do it. Here she is."
"I could not find Decima, Lady Verner," said Lucy, entering. "When I
had been all over the house for her, Catherine told me Miss Decima had
gone out. She has gone to Clay Lane on some errand for Jan."
"Oh, of course for Jan!" resentfully spoke Lady Verner. "Nothing else, I
should think, would take her to Clay Lane. You see, Lionel!"
"There's nothing in Clay Lane that will hurt Decima, mother."
Lady Verner made no reply. She walked to the door, and stood with the
handle in her hand, turning round to speak.
"Lucy, I have been acquainting Lionel with this affair between you and
Lord Garle. I have requested him to speak to you upon the point; to
ascertain your precise grounds of objection, and--so far as he can--to
do away with them. Try your best, Lionel."
She quitted the room, leaving them standing opposite each other.
Standing like two statues. Lionel's heart smote him. She looked so
innocent, so good, in her delicate morning dress, with its gray ribbons
and its white lace on the sleeves, open to the small fair arms! Simple
as the dress was, it looked, in its exquisite taste, worth ten of
Sibylla's elaborate French costumes. Her cheeks were glowing, her hands
were trembling, as she stood there in her self-consciousness.
Terribly self-conscious was Lionel. He strove to say something, but in
his embarrassment could not get out a single word. The conviction of the
grievous fact, that she loved him, went right to his heart in that
moment, and seated itself there. Another grievous fact came home to him;
that she was more to him than the whole world. However he had pushed the
suspicion away from his mind, refused to dwell on it, kept it down, it
was all too plain to him now. He had made Sibylla his wife. He stood
there, feeling that he loved Lucy above all created things.
He crossed over to her, and laid his hand fondly and gently on her head,
as he moved to the door. "May God forgive me, Lucy!" broke from his
white and trembling lips. "My own punishment is heavier than yours."
There was no need of further explanation on either side. Each knew that
the love of the other was theirs, the punishment keenly bitter, as
surely as if a hundred words had told it. Lucy sat down as the door
closed behind him, and wondered how she should get through the long
dreary life before her.
And Lionel? Lionel went out by Jan's favourite way, the back, and
plunged into a dark lane where neither ear nor eye was on him. He
uncovered his head, he threw back his coat, he lifted his breath to
catch only a gasp of air. The sense of dishonour was stifling him.