THE PROPOSAL――MRS. MAITLAND BECOMES COMMUNICATIVE.
Humiliated and crestfallen, Peace returned to his old haunts at
Sheffield. He solaced himself by writing a long and affectionate
letter to Bessie Dalton, of whom he had taken but little notice for
some time past; now he endeavoured to make amends for his neglect.
The excuses he made for this were, as a matter of course, mainly drawn
from his own imagination, which, as far as false statements were
concerned, was at all times fertile enough.
He mixed freely with his boon companions and played the violin nightly
at one or more of the sing-songs held at the public-houses in the
town. He had “the gift of the gab,” as it is termed, could converse
glibely enough upon most topics, in addition to which he had quaint
sayings and amusing ways, which went far towards ensuring him a
cordial reception from the frequenters of the houses he chose to
honour with a visit.
In many ways Peace was a remarkable man. He was a consummate scoundrel
from the outset to the close of his career, but he could be, when he
chose, a very plausible one.
Had he not been this he could never have imposed upon so many persons
as he did.
But, despite his well-affected hilarity, grief lay heavy at his heart
when he thought of the beauteous Aveline Maitland.
Her image was for ever presenting itself to his vision.
“But she’s far beyond my reach,” he would murmur. “She never would
have listened to me under any circumstances. No, she’s too far removed
from such as me.”
The more he thought over the matter the more he became impressed with
the fact. The only wonder is that he had not arrived at this
conclusion from the very first.
His successful rival, Tom Gatliffe, had been on terms of the closest
intimacy with Mrs. Maitland and Aveline. His love for the latter had
grown with his growth and strengthened with his strength. He
positively worshipped the fair young creature who had so enslaved him,
but for a long time he had remained silent upon the subject which
engrossed his whole thoughts.
Young Gatliffe belonged to what is called the industrial class, but he
had received an education superior to the generality of men in his
station of life. He was by trade an engineer.
Patient, self-reliant, and industrious, he had won for himself a good
position in one of the leading firms in Sheffield. His employers had
great confidence in him, and he was a young man who gave early promise
of pushing his way in the world. He was steady, frugal, and had
already saved a considerable sum of money. He had of late become more
persistent in his attentions to Aveline.
The end of this may be readily divined.
He avowed his love, and proposed.
Aveline did not refuse. On the contrary, she accepted him upon the
condition that he was to broach the subject to Mrs. Maitland.
The young engineer was in an ecstacy of delight at his success so far.
Soon after his encounter with Peace he bent his steps towards the
widow’s cottage, and sought an interview with its mistress.
Mrs. Maitland shrewdly guessed the object of his visit.
She conducted him into the front parlour, closed the door, and sat
herself down in one of the arm-chairs, motioning her visitor to be
seated in another.
“My dear Mrs. Maitland,” said Gatliffe. “It is indeed a subject of
most serious import, as regards my own happiness, which has occasioned
me to seek you. For a long time past I have been attached to your
daughter――possibly you might have guessed this.”
The widow nodded.
“Ah, as I supposed.”
“And Aveline?”
“I have told her all――told her that a great golden blaze of light
seemed to fall upon me when I first beheld her. I love her and have
avowed my love. She bade me seek you――bade me ask your consent. That
is why I am here.”
“I see and comprehend most fully. You love one another. Well, Mr.
Gatliffe, you are not the first man who has been struck with
Aveline――but let that pass. I esteem and respect you, and, as far as I
am concerned, there will be no impediment in the way.”
“I think you too worthy a fellow to offer any objection to――you have
my consent. As far as that is concerned, consider the matter settled.
But there are other considerations,” she added, in a more serious
tone.
“Considerations!” he exclaimed. “Possibly you allude to my position in
life.”
“Oh, dear me, no――not for a moment.”
“Pray explain. Let me know the worst,” he ejaculated, in evident
trepidation.
“In the first place,” answered the widow, “I must inform you that
Aveline is not my daughter.”
“Not your daughter, Mrs. Maitland! Impossible!”
“No, but I am quite as fond of her as if she were my own child, but
she is not, and I think it but right and proper that you should be put
in possession of all the facts. She is not my daughter.”
“Whose daughter is she then?”
“That I cannot tell you. I have adopted her, and brought her up from
infancy.”
“I am indeed surprised.”
“That is no more than I expected. Listen! You are perhaps not aware
that I was at one time matron to the Derby Infirmary. It was while
acting in this capacity that I first met with Aveline, who was then
between two and three years old.
“There had been a collision on the line. Many persons were seriously
injured, while some were picked out of the carriages dead.
“One poor lady was brought into the infirmary in a dying condition.
When discovered, strange to say, a little girl, supposed to be her
daughter, whom she clasped in her arms, was found to be uninjured;
they were both conveyed to the infirmary.
“The mother was in a state of insensibility. After she had been
attended to by the surgeon she rallied a little, and murmured once or
twice, in a half dreamy state, the word ‘Aveline.’ The child answered
to the name, and went to the bedside of the sufferer.
“We endeavoured to get the poor lady to tell us who she was, but she
was too ill to speak, and the doctor forbade us making any more
inquiries for the present.
“It was a pitiful sight, for you must understand that there were many
other poor creatures besides her who required immediate attention, and
of course it was the duty of myself and the nurses under my direction
to see to them without a moment’s delay.
While thus engaged one of the nurses came to me, and whispered in my
ear that the lady in bed No. 14 had breathed her last.
“I hastened to the spot, and found that her words were but too true.
The child was crying, and I directed one of the women to take it into
the house I occupied, and tell Rebecca, my servant, to take charge of
it till I came.”
“And its mother?”
“Had passed away, as I have told you. Many others succumbed to the
injuries they had received. Most――nay, indeed, I believe all――were
identified by their relatives――all, save the lady and her child.
“For these no claimant could be found. Not the faintest scrap of
intelligence reached us from any quarter to give a clue to their
identification.
“The lady to all appearance belonged to the upper class. She had a
sweet face and features of delicate mould; but who she was it is not
possible to say. Neither do I think it likely now that we shall ever
ascertain.”
“Goodness me――how singular! And had she nothing about her to denote
who and what she was?”
“She wore round her neck a double gold locket, containing the portrait
of a gentleman on one side, on the other was a likeness of the
deceased lady, and, in addition to her wedding ring, she wore one with
a motto and crest inside it. A description of her and the child,
together with the jewellery she had on, appeared in the list of the
dead and missing in the public papers at the time, but no one came
forward to claim either the living or the dead.”
“Can such things be possible?” exclaimed Gatliffe.
“My dear sir, they are of frequent occurrence. If we could know the
number of missing and unclaimed persons which every year furnishes us
with, it would surprise most people. But what I am telling you now are
simply facts which have come under my own observation.”
“And the mother, what became of her remains?”
“After every effort had been made to discover her relations, and we
had given it up as hopeless, my husband paid for her funeral, and he
said, at the same time, that he would never part with the child. Poor
dear soul! he kept his word. She was by his bedside when his gentle
spirit passed away. He almost worshipped Aveline, and she was equally
attached to him. She has been indeed more than a daughter to us.”
“And have you the locket and the two rings?”
“They were kept in the hospital for some years, but upon my retiring,
I begged them of the governors, and they at once gave orders for them
to be handed over to me. I have them now.”
“And do not intend to part with them, I hope?”
“Certainly not. I consider they belong to Aveline.”
“Why, Mrs. Maitland, this is indeed an extraordinary story.”
“I have thought it a duty incumbent on me to furnish you with all the
particulars. If, after hearing them, you are still disposed to have
Aveline――”
“If!” ejaculated the young engineer. “You do not for a moment suppose
I have any desire to cancel our engagement. No, my dear madam, it is
an additional reason for my cherishing and protecting her.”
“Well, Tom, I hope――nay, I am sure――you will make her a good husband;
and I frankly admit, if it had been left to me to select one for her,
I should have chosen you.”
Gatliffe sprang to his feet, put his arms round the speaker’s neck,
and kissed her fondly.
“Tush, tush, you silly boy,” said the widow, “what do you want to be
kissing an old woman like me for?”
She was, however, not in any way angry with her companion.
“Is Aveline a Christian or surname, do you think?” queried Gatliffe.
“I took it to be a Christian name from the fact that the mother called
her child to her bedside by it, and the little thing answered to it
with the greatest alacrity. It is her Christian name now. She’ll not
change it when she marries, I suppose,” added the widow, with a smile.
“I shall never call her by any other. You know, Mrs. Maitland, I am
but in humble circumstances, but I have enough to give my dear Aveline
all she can desire, and I hope in a short time to be more prosperous.”
“Ah, as to that, riches are not everything, though many persons think
they are――I do not, however. By the way, Tom, do you know that Mr.
Peace made Aveline an offer?”
“Yes, I’ve heard so; but she wouldn’t listen to him.”
“No, I candidly confess that I had rather a good opinion of him at one
time――not as a suitor for Aveline, but I thought him good-natured and
kindly disposed.”
“Probably he may be so.”
“But I have very much altered my opinion with regard to him――very much
indeed,” returned the widow, with forcible emphasis.
Gatliffe refrained from offering any remark. It was evident, from his
manner, that he did not want to dwell further on the subject.
Aveline now entered the room, whereupon her lover rose and embraced
her.
“It is all settled, dearest,” he exclaimed, in a tone of delight. “You
will learn the full particulars from Mrs. Maitland.”
“So you have been having a _tete-à-tete_, it seems.”
“Yes, we have, my child,” said Mrs. Maitland, “and a very satisfactory
one it has proved to be.”
“I’m glad of that,” murmured Aveline. “You both seem well pleased.”
Young Gatliffe thought it was time to take his departure. He was
elated with the successful nature of his interview with the widow, and
thought it best to leave her alone with Aveline.