Mrs. Hazleton was an observer of all small particulars. She never
seemed to give them any attention indeed, but it is not those who
notice them publicly who pay most attention to them in private. Now
she had never in her life been detained five minutes when she had come
to visit Lady Hastings. Her friend was always only too glad to see
her. On the present occasion, she had been kept alone for fully
ten-minutes in the drawing-room, and she was not at all pleased with
this want of alacrity. Her face was as smooth, as gentle, and as
smiling when she entered the sick lady's bed-room, as if she had been
full of affection and tender consideration; and before she had reached
the bed-side, Lady Hastings felt that it would be a somewhat difficult
task to play the cold and reserved part she had imposed upon herself.
She resolved, doggedly, however, to act it out; and as Mrs. Hazleton
approached, she continued looking at her fair delicate hands, or at
the rings--now somewhat too large for the fingers they encircled.
All this was a hint, if not distinct intelligence, to Mrs. Hazleton.
She saw that a change of feeling, or at least a change of purpose, had
taken place, and that Lady Hastings felt embarrassed by a
consciousness which she might or might not choose to communicate. Mrs.
Hazleton remained the same, however, and rather enjoyed the hesitation
which she perceived than otherwise. She was not without that proud
satisfaction which persons of superior mind feel, in witnessing the
effects upon weak people of causes which would not give them a
moment's trouble. Difficulties and complexities she had been so much
accustomed to overcome and to unravel, that she had learned to feel a
certain triumphant joy in encountering them. That joy, indeed, would
have been changed to despair or rage if she had ever dreamed of being
frustrated; but success had made her bold, and she loved to steer her
course through agitated waters.
"Well, my dear friend," she said, with the sweet tones of her voice
falling from her lips like drops d liquid honey, "You do not seem
quite so well to-day. I hope this business which you were to undertake
has not agitated you, or perhaps you have not executed your intention;
it could be very well put off till you are better."
This was intended to lead to confession; for from a knowledge of Lady
Hastings' character, a strong suspicion arose that she had not found
courage to carry through the little drama which had been planned
between them, and that she was now ashamed to confess her want of
resolution.
Lady Hastings remained silent, playing with her rings, and Mrs.
Hazleton, a little angry--but very little--gave her one of those
delightful little scratches which she was practised in administering,
saying, "No one knew any thing about your intentions but myself, so,
no one can accuse you of weakness or vacillation."
"I care very little," said Lady Hastings (most untruly) "of what
people accuse me. I shall of course form my own resolutions from what
I know, and execute them or not, dear Mrs. Hazleton, according to
circumstances, which are ever changing. What is inexpedient one day
may be quite expedient the next."
Now no one was more fully aware than Mrs. Hazleton that expediency is
always the argument of weak minds, and that changing circumstances
afford every day fair excuses to men and to multitudes for every kind
of weakness under the sun. Her belief was strengthened, that Lady
Hastings had not acted as she had promised to act, and she replied
with an easy, quiet, half-pitying smile, "Well, it is not of the
slightest consequence whether you do it now or a week hence, or not at
all. The worst that could come would be Emily's marriage with Marlow,
and if you do not care about it, who should? I take it for granted, of
course, that you have not acted in the matter so boldly and decidedly
as we proposed."
There was an implied superiority in Mrs. Hazleton's words and manner,
which Lady Hastings did not like. It roused and elevated her, and she
replied somewhat sharply, "You are quite mistaken, my dear friend. I
did all that was ever intended; I sent for Emily and my husband, told
them that I believed I should not live long, and made it my last
request that the engagement with Marlow should be broken off."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Hazleton, with even too much eagerness; "What
did they say? Did they consent?"
"Far from it," answered Lady Hastings. "My husband said he had made a
promise, which he would not violate on any account or consideration
whatever, and Emily was much in the same story."
"That shows that your decision was not strongly enough expressed,"
replied her visitor. "I do not believe that any man or woman could be
heartless enough to refuse a wife or mother's last request, if made in
so solemn a manner."
"They did refuse, point-blank, however," said Lady Hastings. "But do
you know, Mrs. Hazleton," she continued, seeing a provokingly bitter
smile on Mrs. Hazleton's face, "do you know, strange to say, I am very
glad they did refuse. Upon after consideration, when all anger and
irritation was gone, I began to think it was hardly right or fair, or
Christian either, to oppose this marriage so strongly, without some
better reason than I have to assign. Marlow is a gentleman in all
respects, of very good family too, I believe. He is a good and
excellent young man. His fortune, too, is not inconsiderable, his
prospects good, and his conduct under the deprivations which we have
lately suffered, and the loss of at least two-thirds of the fortune he
had a right to expect with Emily, has been all that is kind, and
amiable, and generous."
Mrs. Hazleton sat by the bedside, fixing her eyes full upon the
countenance of the invalid, and betraying not in the least the rage
and disappointment that were at her heart. They were not a whit the
less bitter, however, or fierce, or malignant; but rather the more so
from the effort to smother them. No one for a moment could have
imagined that she was angry, even in the least degree; and yet no
disappointed demon ever felt greater fury at being frustrated by the
weakness or vacillation of a tool.
After staying for a moment to take breath, Lady Hastings proceeded,
saying, "All these considerations, dear Mrs. Hazleton, have made me
resolve to make amends for what I have said--to withdraw the
opposition I have hitherto shown--and consent to the marriage."
Mrs. Hazleton retired for a moment into herself. For a minute or two
she was as silent as death--her cheek grew a little paler--her eyes
lost their lustre, and became dead and cold--they seemed looking at
nothing, seeing nothing--there was no speculation in them. The only
thing that indicated life and emotion was a slight quivering of the
beautifully-chiselled lip. There was a word echoing in the dark
chambers of her heart in replying to Lady Hastings. It was "Never!"
but it was not spoken; and after a short and thoughtful pause she
recovered herself fully, and set about her work again.
"My dear friend," she said, in a sweet tone, "you have doubtless good
reasons for what you do. Far be it from me to say one word against
your doing what you think fit; only I should like to know what has
made such a change in your views, because I think perhaps you may be
deceived."
"Oh, no, I am not deceived," replied Lady Hastings, "but really I
cannot enter into explanations. I have heard a great deal lately about
many things--especially this morning; but I--I--in fact, I promised
not to tell you."
Lady Hastings thought that in making this distinct declaration she was
performing a very magnanimous feat; but her little speech, short as it
was, contained three separate clauses or propositions, with each of
which Mrs. Hazleton proposed to deal separately. First, she asserted
that she was not deceived, and to this her companion replied, with a
slight incredulous smile, "Are you quite sure, my friend? Here you are
lying on a bed of sickness, with no power of obtaining accurate
information; while those who are combined to win you to their wishes
have every opportunity of conveying hints to you, both directly and
indirectly, which may not be altogether false, but yet bear with them
a false impression."
"Oh, but there can be no possible doubt," said Lady Hastings, "that
Marlow is the heir of the Earl of Launceston."
Mrs. Hazleton's brow contracted, and a quick flush passed over her
cheek. She had never before given attention to the fact--she had never
thought of it at all--but the moment it was mentioned, her knowledge
of the families of the nobility, and Mr. Marlow's connections, showed
her that the assertion was probably true. "It may be so," she said,
"but I am very doubtful. However, I will inquire, and let you know the
truth, to-morrow. And now, my dear friend, let us turn to something
else. You say you have heard a great deal to-day, and that you have
promised not to tell _me_--me--for you marked that word particularly.
Now here I have a right to demand some explanation; for your very
words show that some person or persons endeavor to prejudice your mind
against me. What you have heard must be some false charge. Otherwise
the one who has been your friend for years, who has been faithful,
constant, attentive, kind, to the utmost limit of her poor abilities,
would not be selected for exclusion from your confidence. They seek,
in fact, by some false rumor, or ridiculous tale, which you have not
the means of investigating yourself, to deprive you of advice and
support. I charge no one in particular; but some one has done this--if
they had nothing to fear from frankness, they would not inculcate a
want of candor towards one who loves you, as they well know."
"Why the fact is Emily said," replied Lady Hastings, "that could only
be for a short time, and----"
"Emily!" cried Mrs. Hazleton with a laugh, "Emily indeed! Oh, then the
matter is easily understood--but pray what did Emily say? Dear Emily,
she is a charming girl--rather wayward--rather wilful--not always
quite so candid to her friends as I could wish; but these are all
thoughts which will pass away with more knowledge of the world. She
will learn to discriminate between true friends and false ones--to
trust and confide entirely and without hesitation in those who really
love her, and not to repose her confidence in the dark and
mysterious.--Now I will undertake to say that Emily has thrown out
hints and inuendoes, without giving you very clear and explicit
information. She has asked you to wait patiently for a time. It is
always the dear child's way; but I did not think she would practice it
upon her own mother."
Now most people would have imagined, as Lady Hastings did imagine,
that Mrs. Hazleton's words proceeded from spite--mere spite; but such
was not the case: it was all art. She sought to pique Lady Hastings,
knowing very well that when once heated or angry, she lost all
caution; and her great object at that moment was to ascertain what
Emily knew, and what Emily had said. She was successful to a certain
degree. She did pique Lady Hastings, who replied at once, and somewhat
sharply, though with the ordinary forms of courtesy. "I do not think
you altogether do Emily justice, dear Mrs. Hazleton, although you have
in some degree divined the course she has pursued. She did not exactly
throw out inuendoes; but she made bold and distinct charges, and
though she did not proceed to the proofs, because there was no time to
do so, and also because there were particular reasons for not doing
so, yet she promised within a very few hours to establish every
assertion that she made beyond the possibility of doubt.
"I thought so," said Mrs. Hazleton, in a somewhat abstracted tone,
casting her eyes round the room and taking up, apparently unconcerned,
the vial of medicine which stood by Lady Hastings' bedside. "Pray, my
dear friend, when the revelation is made--if it ever be made--inform
me of the particulars."
"If it ever be made," exclaimed Lady Hastings. "No revelation needs to
be made, Mrs. Hazleton--nothing is wanting but the proofs. Emily was
explicit enough as to the facts. She said that you had aided and
assisted in depriving my husband of his property, that in that and
many other particulars you had acted any thing but a friendly part,
that you were moved by a spirit of hatred against us all, and that
very seldom had there been any communications between our house and
yours without some evil following it--which is true enough."
She spoke with a good deal of vehemence, and raised herself somewhat
on her elbow, as if to utter her words more freely. In the mean while
Mrs. Hazleton sat silent and calm--as far as the exterior went at
least--with her eyes fixed upon a particular spot in the quilt from
which they never moved till Lady Hastings had done.
"Grave charges," she said at length, "very grave charges to bring
against one whom she has known from her infancy, and for whom she has
professed some regard--but no less false than grave, my dear friend.
Now either one of two things has happened: the first, which I mention
merely as a possibility, but without at all believing that such is the
case--the first is, I say, that Emily, judging your opposition to her
proposed unequal marriage to be abetted by myself, has devised these
charges out of her own head, in order to withdraw your confidence from
me and gain her own objects: the second is--and this is much more
likely--that she has been informed by some one, either maliciously or
mistakenly, of some suspicions and doubts such as are always more or
less current in a country place, and has perhaps embellished them a
little in their transmission to you.--The latter is certainly the most
probable.--I suppose she did not tell you from whom she received the
information."
"Not exactly," answered Lady Hastings, "but one thing I know, which
is, that Mr. Dixwell the rector has all the same information, and if I
understood her rightly, has got it down in writing."
Mrs. Hazleton's cheek grew a shade paler; but she answered at once "I
am glad to hear that; for now we come to something definite. All these
charges must be substantiated, dear friend--that is, if they can be
substantiated--" she added with a smile.
"You can easily understand that, attached to you by the bonds of a
long friendship, I cannot suffer my name to be traduced, or my conduct
impeached, even by your own daughter, without insisting upon a full
explanation, and clear, satisfactory proofs, or a recantation of the
charges. Emily must establish what she has said, if she can.--I am in
no haste about it; it may be to-morrow, or the next day, or the day
after--whenever it suits you and her in short; but it must be done.
Conscious that I am innocent of such great offences, I can wait
patiently; and I do not think, my dear friend, that although I see you
have been a little startled by these strange tales, you will give any
credence to them in your heart till they are proved. Dear Emily is
evidently very much in love with Mr. Marlow, and is anxious to remove
all opposition to her marriage with him. But I think she must take
some other means; for these will certainly break down beneath her."
She spoke so calmly, and in so quiet and gentle a tone--her whole look
and manner was so tranquilly confident--that lady Hastings could
hardly believe that she was in any degree guilty.
"Well, I cannot tell," she said, "how this may turn out, but I do not
think her marriage with Mr. Marlow can have any thing to do with it. I
have fully and entirely resolved to cease all opposition to her union;
on which I see my daughter's happiness is staked, and I shall
certainly immediately signify my consent both to Emily and to my
husband."
"Wait a little--wait a little" said Mrs. Hazleton with a significant
nod of the head. "I have no mysteries, my dear friend. I have nothing
to conceal or to hold back. You are going, however, to act upon
information which is very doubtful. I believe that you have been
deceived, whoever has told you that Mr. Marlow is the heir to the Earl
of Launceston, and it is but an act of friendship on my part to
procure you more certain intelligence. You shall have it I promise
you, before four and twenty hours are over, and all I ask is that you
will not commit yourself by giving your consent till that intelligence
has been obtained. You cannot say that you consent if Mr. Marlow
proves to be the heir of that nobleman, but will not consent if such
be not the case.--That would never do, and therefore your consent
would be irrevocable. But on the other hand there can be no great harm
in waiting four and twenty hours at the utmost. I have plenty of books
of heraldry and genealogy, which will soon let me into the facts, and
you shall know them plainly and straightforwardly at once. You can
then decide and state your decision firmly and calmly, with just
reason and upon good grounds."
Lady Hastings was silent. She saw that Mrs. Hazleton had detected the
motives of her sudden change of views, and she did not much like being
detected. She had fully made up her mind, too, that Marlow was to
become Earl and her daughter Countess of Launceston, and the very
thought of such not being the result was a sort of half disappointment
to her. Now Lady Hastings did not like being disappointed at all, and
moreover she had made up her mind to have a scene of reconciliation,
and tenderness, and gratitude with her husband and her daughter, from
which--being of a truly affectionate disposition--she thought she
should derive great pleasure. Thus she hesitated for a moment as to
what she should answer, and Mrs. Hazleton, determined not to let the
effect of what she had said subside before she had bound her more
firmly, added, after waiting a short time for a reply, "you will
promise me, will you not, that you will not distinctly recall your
injunction, and give your consent to the marriage till you have seen
me again; provided I do not keep you in suspense more than four and
twenty hours? It is but reasonable too, and just, and you would, I am
sure, repent bitterly if you were to find afterwards that your consent
to this very unequal marriage had been obtained by deceit, and that
you bad been made a mere fool of--Really at the very first sight, even
if I had not good reason to believe that this story of the heirship is
either a mistake or a misrepresentation, it seems so like a stage
trick--the cunning plot of some knavish servant or convenient friend
in a drama--that I should be very doubtful. Will you not promise me
then?"
"Well, there can be no great harm in waiting that length of time,"
said Lady Hastings. "I do not mind promising that; but of course you
will let me know within four and twenty hours."
"I will," replied Mrs. Hazleton firmly; "earlier if it be possible; but
the fact is, I have some business to settle to-morrow of great
importance. My lawyer, Mr. Shanks--whom I believe to be a great
rogue--persuaded me to lend some money upon security which he
pronounced himself to be good. I knew not what it was for; as we women
of course can be no judges of such things; but I have just discovered
that it was to pay off some debts of this young man who calls himself
Sir John Hastings. Now I don't know whether the papers have been
signed, or any thing about it; and I hear that the young man himself
is absent, no one knows where. It makes me very uneasy; and I have
sent for Shanks to come to me to-morrow morning. It may therefore be
the middle of the day before I can get here; but I will not delay a
moment, you may be perfectly sure."
She had risen as she spoke, and after pressing the hand of Lady
Hastings tenderly in her own, she glided calmly out of the room with
her usual graceful movement, and entering her carriage with a face as
serene as a summer sky, ordered the coachman to drive home in a voice
that wavered not in its lightest tone.