“I wish, as I stated yesterday, that Miss Bowen's property should be
settled entirely upon herself. This is the only course which to my
thinking can reconcile a man to the humiliation of receiving a large
fortune with his wife.”
“An odd doctrine, truly! Where did you learn it?” laughed Major Harper,
who was pacing the Bedford Square drawing-room with quick, uneasy steps;
while his brother stood very quiet, only looking from time to time at
the closed door. It was the Saturday before the marriage; and Agatha's
trustee had come to execute his last guardianship of her and her
property. There was lying on a corner-table, pored over by a lawyer-like
individual--that formidable instrument, a marriage-settlement.
“Where did I learn it?” returned Mr. Harper, smiling. “Why, where I
learned most of my opinions, and everything that is good in me--with
Uncle Brian. Poor Uncle Brian!” and the smile faded into grave anxiety.
“Are you really going on that mad expedition?” said the elder brother,
with the air of a man who, being perturbed in his own mind, is ready to
take a harsh view of everything.
“I do not think it mad--and anything short of madness I ought to
undertake, and shall--for him.”
“Ay,” muttered the other, “there it is, Brian always made everybody love
him.”
“But,” continued Nathanael, “as I said last night to Miss Bowen, I shall
do nothing foolishly. We must hold ourselves prepared for the worst;
still, if better tidings should come--though that is scarcely possible
now--then perhaps----”
“You would not go!” cried Major Harper, eagerly. “Which would of course
delay your marriage. How very much better that would be.”
“Why so?” said the bridegroom, with a piercing look.
Frederick appeared confused, but threw it off with a laugh.
“Oh, women like a little longer courtship. They are never caught all in
a minute, unless they are quite indifferent as to who catches them. And
even then--'marry in haste'--you know the proverb--nay, don't be angry,”
he added, as his brother turned abruptly away. “I was only jesting; and
a happy fellow like you can afford to be laughed at by a miserable old
bachelor like me.”
The momentary annoyance passed. Nathanael was, indeed, too happy to be
seriously vexed at anything.
“Still, for some reasons,” continued Major Harper, “I wish my fair ward
were not becoming my sister in such a terrible hurry. So much to be done
in one week, and by a man like me who hates the very name of business;
it is next to impossible but that some things should he slurred and
hurried over. For instance, there was no time, Grimes said, to draw up
a long deed of settlement, showing precisely where her money was
invested.”
“I told you I wanted nothing of the kind. I scarcely understand your
English law. But can it not be stated in plain legal form--a dozen lines
would surety; do it--that every farthing Agatha has is settled upon
herself exclusively from the day she becomes my wife.”
“That is done. I--I--in fact, Mr. Grimes had already advised such a
course as being the shortest.”
“Then what is the use of saying any more about it?”
“But, brother,” observed Major Harper, in whose manner was perceptible a
certain vague uneasiness, “if--though I assure you Grimes has transacted
all these matters, and he is a sharp man of business, while I am
none--still, if it would be any satisfaction to you to know particulars
concerning where Miss Bowen's money is invested”--
“In the funds; and to remain there by her father's will, to I think you
said.”
“Precisely. It _was_ invested there,” returned the brother, with an
accent so light on the past tense that Nathanael, preoccupied with other
things than money matters, did not observe it.
“Well, then, so let it stay. Don't let us talk any more about this
matter. I trust entirely to you. To whom should I trust, if not to my
own brother?”
At these hearty words Major Harper's face, quick in every mobile
expression of feeling, betrayed much discomposure. He walked the room in
a mood of agitation, compared to which the bridegroom's own restlessness
was nothing. Then he went to the farther end of the apartment, and
hurriedly read over the marriage-settlement.
“Faugh, Grimes! what balderdash is this?” he whispered angrily.
“Balderdash?--nay, downright lies!”
“Drawn up exactly as you desired, and as we arranged, Major Harper,”
answered Mr. Grimes, formally. “Settling upon the lady and her heirs for
ever all her property now in the 'Three per Cent. Consols.'”
“Just heavens! and there's not a penny of it there!”
“But there will be by the time the marriage is celebrated, or soon
after--since you are determined to sell out those shares.”
“I wish I could--I wish to Heaven I could!” cried the poor Major, in a
despair that required all the warnings of his legal adviser to smother
it down, so as to keep their conference private. “I've been driven
nearly mad going from broker to broker in the City to-day. I might
as well attempt to sell out shares in the Elysian Fields as in that
confounded Wheal Caroline.”
“Fluctuations, my dear sir; mere fluctuations! 'Tis the same in all
Cornish mines. Yet, as I said, both concerning your own little property
and Miss Bowen's afterwards, I would wish no better investment. I have
the greatest confidence in the Wheal Caroline shares.”
“Confidence!” echoed the Major, ruefully. “But where is my brother's
confidence in me, when I tell him?--'Pon my life, I can't tell him!”
“There is not the slightest need; I have accurate information from the
mine, which next week will raise the shares to ten per cent, premium,
and then, since you are so determined to sell out that most promising
investment”--
“I will, as sure as I live. I vow I'll never be trustee to any young
lady again, as long as my name is Frederick Harper. However, if this
must stand”--and he read from the deed--“'all property now invested
in the Three per Cents.'--Oh, oh!” Major Harper shook his head, with a
deep-drawn sigh of miserable irresolution.
Yet there lay the parchment, sickening him with its prevaricating if
not lying face; and his invisible good angel kept pulling him on one
side--nay, at last pulled him halfway across the room to where, absorbed
in a reverie--pardonable under the circumstances--his brother sat.
“Nathanael, pray get out of that brown study, and have five minutes'
talk with me. If you only knew the annoyance I have endured all this
week concerning Agatha's fortune! How thankful I shall be to transfer it
from my hands into yours.”
“Oh, yes!” said the lover, rather absently.
“And I hope it will give you less trouble and more reward than it has
given me,” continued the elder brother, still anxiously beating about
the bush, ere he came to a direct confession. “I declare, I have been as
anxious for the young lady's benefit as if I had intended marrying her
myself.”
The bridegroom's quick, fiery glance showed Major Harper that he had
gone a little too far, even in privileged jesting.
But happily Nathanael had heard the door open. He hastily went forward
and met his bride. With her were Mr. and Mrs. Thornycroft, Dr. and Mrs.
Ianson, and another lady. The latter quickly passed out of the immediate
circle, and sat down in a retired corner of the room.
Agatha looked pale and worn out, which was no wonder, considering that
for several days she had endured, morning, noon, and night, all the
wearisome preparations which the kind-hearted Emma deemed indispensable
to “a really nice wedding.” But her betrothed noticed her paleness with
troubled eyes.
“You are not ill, my darling?”
“No,” said Agatha, abruptly, blushing lest any one should hear the
tender word, which none had ever used to her before, and blushing still
deeper when, meeting Major Harper's anxious looks fixed on them both,
she fancied he had heard. A foolish sensitiveness made her turn away
from her lover, and talk to the first person who came in her way.
Meanwhile Mr. Thornycroft and Dr. Ianson, with a knowledge that time was
precious, had gone at once to the business of the meeting, and were
deep in perusal of the marriage-settlement of which they were to be
witnesses.
“Why, Miss Bowen, you are a richer girl than I knew,” said Emma's worthy
husband, coming forward, with his round pleasant face. “I congratulate
you; at this particular crisis, when hundreds are being ruined by last
year's mania for railway speculation, it is most fortunate to have safe
funded property.”
Major Harper's conscience groaned within, and it was all over. He
resigned himself to stern necessity and force of circumstances--hoping
everything would turn out for the best.
Then they all gathered round the table, and Mr. Grimes droned out the
necessary formalities. The bride-elect listened, half in a dream--the
bridegroom rather more attentively.
“Are you quite sure,” said he, pausing, with the pen in his hand, and
casting his eyes keenly over the document--“are you quite sure this
deed answers the purpose I intended? This is the total amount of
property which Mr. Bowen left?”
And he looked from his brother to the lawyer with an anxiety which long
afterwards recurred bitterly to Agatha's mind.
Mr. Grimes bowed, and assured him that all was correct. So the young
bridegroom signed with a steady hand, and afterwards watched the rather
tremulous signature of his bride. Then an inexpressible content diffused
itself over his face. Putting her arm in his, he led her away proudly,
as though she were already his own.
Confused by her novel position, Agatha looked instinctively for some
womanly encouragement, but Emma Thornycroft was busily engaged in
admiring observation of some wedding presents, and Mrs. Ianson was worse
than nobody.
“Miss Valery!--what has become of Miss Valery? said the bride, her eyes
wandering restlessly around. Other eyes followed hers--Major Harper's.
Incredulously these rested on the silent lady in the background, whose
whole mien, figure, and attire, in the plain dark dress, and close
morning cap, marked her a woman undeniably and fearlessly middle-aged.
“Is it possible!” he exclaimed. “Can that be Anne Valery?”
The lady arose, and met him with extended hand. “It is Anne Valery, and
she is very glad to see you, Major Harper.”
They shook hands; his confused manner contrasting strongly with
her perfect serenity. After a moment Miss Bowen, who could not help
watching, heard him say:
“I, too, am glad we have met at last. I hope it is as friends!”
“I was never otherwise to you,” she answered, gently; and joined the
circle.
This rather singular greeting, noticed by none but herself, awakened
Agatha's old wrath against Major Harper, lest, as her romantic
imagination half suggested, the secret of Anne Valery's always
remaining Anne Valery, was, that his old companion had been first on
the illustrious Frederick's long list of broken hearts. If so, never was
there a broken heart that made so little outward show, or wore such a
cheerful exterior, as Miss Valery's.
But Agatha's own heart was too full of the busy trembling fancies
natural to her position to speculate overmuch on the hearts of other
people. Very soon Major Harper quitted the house, and the Thornycrofts
also. She was left alone with her lover and with Anne--Anne, who ever
since her arrival had seemed to keep a steady watch over Nathanael's
bride. They had rarely met, and for brief intervals; yet Agatha felt
that she was perpetually under this guardianship, gentle, though
strong--holding her fluctuating spirit firm, and filling her with all
cheerful hopes and tender thoughts of her future husband. She seemed to
grow a better woman every time she saw Anne Valery. It was inexpressibly
sweet to turn for a few moments each day from the lace and the ribbons,
the dresses and the bridecake, and hear Anne talk of what true marriage
really was--when two people entirely and worthily loved one another.
Only Agatha had not the courage to confess, what she began to hope was
a foolish doubt, that the “love” which Miss Valery seemed to take for
granted she felt towards Nathanael, was a something which as yet she
herself did not quite understand.
That Saturday afternoon, nevertheless, she was calmer and more at ease.
Signing the settlement had removed all doubts from her mind, and made
her realise clearly that she would soon be Mr. Harper's wife. And he
was so tender over her, so happy. Her marriage with him appeared to make
every one happy. That very day he had brought her a heap of letters from
Dorsetshire; her first welcome from his kindred--her own that would be.
They seemed to know all about her--from Anne Valery doubtless--and to
be delighted at Nathanael's choice. There was a kind but formal missive
from the old father, implying his dignified satisfaction that at
last one of his sons would marry to keep up the family name. From
the daughters there were letters varying in style and matter, but all
cordial except, perhaps, Eulalie's, who had years to wait before
_she_ married, and was rather cross accordingly. One note, in neat and
delicate writing, made Agatha's heart beat; for it was signed, “Your
affectionate _sister_, Elizabeth.”
She, who had longed for a sister all her life! Heaven was very good to
her, to give her all ties through one! It seemed, indeed, right and holy
that she should be married to Nathanael.
One only unutterable terror she had, which by a fortunate chance was
never alluded to by any one, and she was too much occupied to have it
often forced on her mind. This was, the thought of having to cross the
seas to Canada.
“Oh!” she sighed, as she sat, with the letters on her lap, listening to
what her lover said of his sisters and his family--“oh! that we could
do as your father seems to wish, and go and live in Dorsetshire, near
Kingcombe Holm.”
“I wish it too, if it would please you, dear; but it seems impossible.
How could I live in England without a profession?--even supposing Uncle
Brian did consent to return and settle at home. Sometimes, but very
rarely, he has hinted at such a possibility.--He has indeed, Anne,”
continued the young man, noticing how keenly Miss Valery's eyes were
fixed on him.
“I am glad to hear it.”
“But he always said he would never return till he was grown either
very rich or very old. Alas; the latter chance may come, but the former
never! Poor Uncle Brian! If he comes at all, it is sure not to be for
many years.”
“Not for many years!” repeated Miss Valery, who was crossing over to
Agatha's side with a piece of rich lace she had been unfolding. As she
walked, her hand was unconsciously pressed upon her chest, a habit she
had after any quick movement. And, leaning over Agatha, she breathed
painfully and hard.
“My dear?” The young girl looked up. “Your sisters that are to be
desired me to give you from them a wedding-present. It was to be your
veil. But I had a whim that I would like to give you your veil myself.
Here it is. Will you accept it, with my love?”
[Illustration: Will you accept it, with my love p090]
So saying, she laid over the bride's head a piece of old point lace,
magnificent in texture. Agatha had never seen anything like it.
“Oh, Miss Valery, to think of your giving me this! It is fit for a
queen!” And she looked at Mr. Harper, hesitating to accept so costly a
gift.
“Nay, take it,” said he smiling. “Never scruple at its costliness; it
cannot be richer than Anne's heart.” And he grasped his old friend's
hand warmly.
Miss Valery continued, with a slight colour rising in her cheek. “This
was given me twenty years ago for a wedding-veil. It has been wasted
upon me, you see, but I wish some one to wear it, and would like it to
be worn by a Mrs. Locke Harper.”
Agatha blushed crimson. Nathanael looked delighted. Neither noticed
Anne Valery; who, her passing colour having sunk into a still deeper
paleness, quietly returned to her seat, and soon after quitted the
house.