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diff --git a/4969-h/4969-h.htm b/4969-h/4969-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..38a0f99 --- /dev/null +++ b/4969-h/4969-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,17935 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Belton Estate, by Anthony Trollope</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-family: "Times-Roman", serif; + font-size: large; + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%; + text-align:justify; } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; + clear: both; } + h1.title { font-size: 240%;} + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; } + hr.tiny { width: 10%; + text-align: center; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; } + hr { width: 100%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + blockquote { font-size: large; } + blockquote.med { font-size: medium; } + img.left { float:left; + margin: 0px 8px 6px 0px; } + table {font-size: large; } + table.sm {font-size: medium; } + table.j {font-size: large; + text-align: justify; } + td.j {text-align: justify; } + p {text-indent: 4%; } + p.noindent { text-indent: 0%; } + p.noindentind { text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 4%; } + .bold { font-weight: bold; } + .caption { font-size: small; + font-weight: bold; } + .center { text-align: center; } + img { border: 0; } + .ind2 { margin-left: 2em; } + .ind4 { margin-left: 4em; } + .ind6 { margin-left: 6em; } + .ind8 { margin-left: 8em; } + .ind10 { margin-left: 10em; } + .ind12 { margin-left: 12em; } + .ind14 { margin-left: 14em; } + .ind15 { margin-left: 15em; } + .ind16 { margin-left: 16em; } + .ind18 { margin-left: 18em; } + .ind20 { margin-left: 20em; } + .jright { text-align: right; } + .wide { letter-spacing: 2em; } + .nowrap { white-space: nowrap; } + .nonser { font-family: Arial, non-serif; } + .small { font-size: 85%; } + .large { font-size: 130%; } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps; } + .u { text-decoration: underline; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red; + text-decoration: underline; } + pre {font-size: 70%; } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Belton Estate, by Anthony Trollope</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p class="noindent">Title: The Belton Estate</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: Anthony Trollope</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: April 7, 2002 [eBook #4969]<br /> +Most recently updated and HTML version added: August 13, 2010</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BELTON ESTATE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Andrew Turek<br /> + and revised by Rita Bailey and Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.<br /> + <br /> + HTML version prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1 class="title">THE BELTON ESTATE<br /> </h1> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h1>ANTHONY TROLLOPE</h1> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h4>First published in serial form in the <i>Fortnightly Review</i><br /> +in 1865 and in book form the same year</h4> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<h2>CONTENTS.<br /> </h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table class="sm" style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="3"> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER I. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c1" >THE REMNANTS OF THE AMEDROZ FAMILY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER II. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c2" >THE HEIR PROPOSES TO VISIT HIS COUSINS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER III. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c3" >WILL BELTON.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER IV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c4" >SAFE AGAINST LOVE-MAKING.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER V. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c5" >NOT SAFE AGAINST LOVE-MAKING.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER VI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c6" >SAFE AGAINST LOVE-MAKING ONCE AGAIN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER VII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c7" >MISS AMEDROZ GOES TO PERIVALE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER VIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c8" >CAPTAIN AYLMER MEETS HIS CONSTITUENTS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER IX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c9" >CAPTAIN AYLMER'S PROMISE TO HIS AUNT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER X. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c10" >SHOWING HOW CAPTAIN AYLMER KEPT<br />HIS PROMISE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c11" >MISS AMEDROZ IS TOO CANDID BY HALF.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c12" >MISS AMEDROZ RETURNS HOME.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c13" >MR. WILLIAM BELTON TAKES A WALK<br />IN THE COUNTRY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c14" >MR. WILLIAM BELTON TAKES A WALK<br />IN LONDON.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c15" >EVIL WORDS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c16" >THE HEIR'S SECOND VISIT TO BELTON.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c17" >AYLMER PARK.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c18" >MRS. ASKERTON'S STORY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c19" >MISS AMEDROZ HAS ANOTHER CHANCE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c20" >WILLIAM BELTON DOES NOT GO OUT<br />HUNTING.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c21" >MRS. ASKERTON'S GENEROSITY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c22" >PASSIONATE PLEADING.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c23" >THE LAST DAY AT BELTON.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c24" >THE GREAT NORTHERN RAILWAY HOTEL.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c25" >MISS AMEDROZ HAS SOME HASHED CHICKEN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c26" >THE AYLMER PARK HASHED CHICKEN<br />COMES TO AN END.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c27" >ONCE MORE BACK TO BELTON.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c28" >MISS AMEDROZ IS PURSUED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c29" >THERE IS NOTHING TO TELL.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c30" >MARY BELTON.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXXI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c31" >TAKING POSSESSION.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">CHAPTER XXXII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c32" >CONCLUSION.</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> + + +<p><a name="c1" id="c1"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> +<h4>THE REMNANTS OF THE AMEDROZ FAMILY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Mrs. Amedroz, the wife of Bernard Amedroz, Esq., of Belton Castle, +and mother of Charles and Clara Amedroz, died when those children +were only eight and six years old, thereby subjecting them to the +greatest misfortune which children born in that sphere of life can be +made to suffer. And, in the case of this boy and girl the misfortune +was aggravated greatly by the peculiarities of the father's +character. Mr. Amedroz was not a bad man,—as men are held to be bad +in the world's esteem. He was not vicious,—was not a gambler or a +drunkard,—was not self-indulgent to a degree that brought upon him +any reproach; nor was he regardless of his children. But he was an +idle, thriftless man, who, at the age of sixty-seven, when the reader +will first make his acquaintance, had as yet done no good in the +world whatever. Indeed he had done terrible evil; for his son Charles +was now dead,—had perished by his own hand,—and the state of things +which had brought about this woful event had been chiefly due to the +father's neglect.</p> + +<p>Belton Castle is a pretty country seat, standing in a small but +beautifully wooded park, close under the Quantock hills in +Somersetshire; and the little town of Belton clusters round the park +gates. Few Englishmen know the scenery of England well, and the +prettinesses of Somersetshire are among those which are the least +known. But the Quantock hills are very lovely, with their rich +valleys lying close among them, and their outlying moorlands running +off towards Dulverton and the borders of Devonshire,—moorlands which +are not flat, like Salisbury Plain, but are broken into ravines and +deep watercourses and rugged dells hither and thither; where old oaks +are standing, in which life seems to have, dwindled down to the last +spark; but the last spark is still there, and the old oaks give forth +their scanty leaves from year to year.</p> + +<p>In among the hills, somewhat off the high road from Minehead to +Taunton, and about five miles from the sea, stands the little town, +or village, of Belton, and the modern house of Mr. Amedroz, which is +called Belton Castle. The village,—for it is in truth no more, +though it still maintains a charter for a market, and there still +exists on Tuesdays some pretence of an open sale of grain and +butcher's meat in the square before the church-gate,—contains about +two thousand persons. That and the whole parish of Belton did +once,—and that not long ago,—belong to the Amedroz family. They had +inherited it from the Beltons of old, an Amedroz having married the +heiress of the family. And as the parish is large, stretching away to +Exmoor on one side, and almost to the sea on the other, containing +the hamlet of Redicote, lying on the Taunton high road,—Redicote, +where the post-office is placed, a town almost in itself, and one +which is now much more prosperous than Belton,—as the property when +it came to the first Amedroz had limits such as these, the family had +been considerable in the county. But these limits had been straitened +in the days of the grandfather and the father of Bernard Amedroz; and +he, when he married a Miss Winterfield of Taunton, was thought to +have done very well, in that mortgages were paid off the property +with his wife's money to such an extent as to leave him in clear +possession of an estate that gave him two thousand a year. As Mr. +Amedroz had no grand neighbours near him, as the place is remote and +the living therefore cheap, and as with this income there was no +question of annual visits to London, Mr. and Mrs. Amedroz might have +done very well with such of the good things of the world as had +fallen to their lot. And had the wife lived such would probably have +been the case; for the Winterfields were known to be prudent people. +But Mrs. Amedroz had died young, and things with Bernard Amedroz had +gone badly.</p> + +<p>And yet the evil had not been so much with him as with that terrible +boy of his. The father had been nearly forty when he married. He had +then never done any good; but as neither had he done much harm, the +friends of the family had argued well of his future career. After +him, unless he should leave a son behind him, there would be no +Amedroz left among the Quantock hills; and by some arrangement in +respect to that Winterfield money which came to him on his +marriage,—the Winterfields having a long-dated connection with the +Beltons of old,—the Amedroz property was, at Bernard's marriage, +entailed back upon a distant Belton cousin, one Will Belton, whom no +one had seen for many years, but who was by blood nearer to the +squire, in default of children of his own, than any other of his +relatives. And now Will Belton was the heir to Belton Castle; for +Charles Amedroz, at the age of twenty-seven, had found the miseries +of the world to be too many for him, and had put an end to them and +to himself.</p> + +<p>Charles had been a clever fellow,—a very clever fellow in the eyes +of his father. Bernard Amedroz knew that he himself was not a clever +fellow, and admired his son accordingly; and when Charles had been +expelled from Harrow for some boyish freak,—in his vengeance against +a neighbouring farmer, who had reported to the school authorities the +doings of a few beagles upon his land, Charles had cut off the heads +of all the trees in a young fir plantation,—his father was proud of +the exploit. When he was rusticated a second time from Trinity, and +when the father received an intimation that his son's name had better +be taken from the College books, the squire was not so well pleased; +but even then he found some delight in the stories which reached him +of his son's vagaries; and when the young man commenced Bohemian life +in London, his father did nothing to restrain him. Then there came +the old story—debts, endless debts; and lies, endless lies. During +the two years before his death, his father paid for him, or undertook +to pay, nearly ten thousand pounds, sacrificing the life assurances +which were to have made provision for his daughter; sacrificing, to a +great extent, his own life income,—sacrificing everything, so that +the property might not be utterly ruined at his death. That Charles +Amedroz should be a brighter, greater man than any other Amedroz, had +still been the father's pride. At the last visit which Charles had +paid to Belton his father had called upon him to pledge himself +solemnly that his sister should not be made to suffer by what had +been done for him. Within a month of that time he had blown his +brains out in his London lodgings, thus making over the entire +property to Will Belton at his father's death. At that last pretended +settlement with his father and his father's lawyer, he had kept back +the mention of debts as heavy nearly as those to which he had owned; +and there were debts of honour, too, of which he had not spoken, +trusting to the next event at Newmarket to set him right. The next +event at Newmarket had set him more wrong than ever, and so there had +come an end to everything with Charles Amedroz.</p> + +<p>This had happened in the spring, and the afflicted father,—afflicted +with the double sorrow of his son's terrible death and his daughter's +ruin,—had declared that he would turn his face to the wall and die. +But the old squire's health, though far from strong, was stronger +than he had deemed it, and his feelings, sharp enough, were less +sharp than he had thought them; and when a month had passed by, he +had discovered that it would be better that he should live, in order +that his daughter might still have bread to eat and a house of her +own over her head. Though he was now an impoverished man, there was +still left to him the means of keeping up the old home; and he told +himself that it must, if possible, be so kept that a few pounds +annually might be put by for Clara. The old carriage-horses were +sold, and the park was let to a farmer, up to the hall door of the +castle. So much the squire could do; but as to the putting by of the +few pounds, any dependence on such exertion as that on his part +would, we may say, be very precarious.</p> + +<p>Belton Castle was not in truth a castle. Immediately before the front +door, so near to the house as merely to allow of a broad road running +between it and the entrance porch, there stood an old tower, which +gave its name to the residence,—an old square tower, up which the +Amedroz boys for three generations had been able to climb by means of +the ivy and broken stones in one of the inner corners,—and this +tower was a remnant of a real castle that had once protected the +village of Belton. The house itself was an ugly residence, three +stories high, built in the time of George II., with low rooms and +long passages, and an immense number of doors. It was a large +unattractive house,—unattractive, that is, as regarded its own +attributes,—but made interesting by the beauty of the small park in +which it stood. Belton Park did not, perhaps, contain much above a +hundred acres, but the land was so broken into knolls and valleys, in +so many places was the rock seen to be cropping up through the +verdure, there were in it so many stunted old oaks, so many points of +vantage for the lover of scenery, that no one would believe it to be +other than a considerable domain. The farmer who took it, and who +would not under any circumstances undertake to pay more than +seventeen shillings an acre for it, could not be made to think that +it was in any way considerable. But Belton Park, since first it was +made a park, had never before been regarded after this fashion. +Farmer Stovey, of the Grange, was the first man of that class who had +ever assumed the right to pasture his sheep in Belton chase,—as the +people around were still accustomed to call the woodlands of the +estate.</p> + +<p>It was full summer at Belton, and four months had now passed since +the dreadful tidings had reached the castle. It was full summer, and +the people of the village were again going about their ordinary +business; and the shop-girls, with their lovers from Redicote, were +again to be seen walking among the oaks in the park on a Sunday +evening; and the world in that district of Somersetshire was getting +itself back into its grooves. The fate of the young heir had +disturbed the grooves greatly, and had taught many in those parts to +feel that the world was coming to an end. They had not loved young +Amedroz, for he had been haughty when among them, and there had been +wrongs committed by the dissolute young squire, and grief had come +from his misdoings upon more than one household; but to think that he +should have destroyed himself with his own hand! And then, to think +that Miss Clara would become a beggar when the old squire should die! +All the neighbours around understood the whole history of the entail, +and knew that the property was to go to Will Belton. Now Will Belton +was not a gentleman! So, at least, said the Belton folk, who had +heard that the heir had been brought up as a farmer somewhere in +Norfolk. Will Belton had once been at the Castle as a boy, now some +fifteen years ago, and then there had sprung up a great quarrel +between him and his distant cousin Charles;—and Will, who was rough +and large of stature, had thrashed the smaller boy severely; and the +thing had grown to have dimensions larger than those which generally +attend the quarrels of boys; and Will had said something which had +shown how well he understood his position in reference to the +estate;—and Charles had hated him. So Will had gone, and had been no +more seen among the oaks whose name he bore. And the people, in spite +of his name, regarded him as an interloper. To them, with their short +memories and scanty knowledge of the past, Amedroz was more +honourable than Belton, and they looked upon the coming man as an +intruder. Why should not Miss Clara have the property? Miss Clara had +never done harm to any one!</p> + +<p>Things got back into their old grooves, and at the end of the third +month the squire was once more seen in the old family pew at church. +He was a large man, who had been very handsome, and who now, in his +yellow leaf, was not without a certain beauty of manliness. He wore +his hair and his beard long; before his son's death they were grey, +but now they were very white. And though he stooped, there was still +a dignity in his slow step,—a dignity that came to him from nature +rather than from any effort. He was a man who, in fact, did little or +nothing in the world,—whose life had been very useless; but he had +been gifted with such a presence that he looked as though he were one +of God's nobler creatures. Though always dignified he was ever +affable, and the poor liked him better than they might have done had +he passed his time in searching out their wants and supplying them. +They were proud of their squire, though he had done nothing for them. +It was something to them to have a man who could so carry himself +sitting in the family pew in their parish church. They knew that he +was poor, but they all declared that he was never mean. He was a real +gentleman,—was this last Amedroz of the family; therefore they +curtsied low, and bowed on his reappearance among them, and made all +those signs of reverential awe which are common to the poor when they +feel reverence for the presence of a superior.</p> + +<p>Clara was there with him, but she had shown herself in the pew for +four or five weeks before this. She had not been at home when the +fearful news had reached Belton, being at that time with a certain +lady who lived on the further side of the county, at Perivale,—a +certain Mrs. Winterfield, born a Folliott, a widow, who stood to Miss +Amedroz in the place of an aunt. Mrs. Winterfield was, in truth, the +sister of a gentleman who had married Clara's aunt,—there having +been marriages and intermarriages between the Winterfields and the +Folliotts, and the Belton-Amedroz families. With this lady in +Perivale, which I maintain to be the dullest little town in England, +Miss Amedroz was staying when the news reached her father, and when +it was brought direct from London to herself. Instantly she had +hurried home, making the journey with all imaginable speed though her +heart was all but broken within her bosom. She had found her father +stricken to the ground, and it was the more necessary, therefore, +that she should exert herself. It would not do that she also should +yield to that longing for death which terrible calamities often +produce for a season.</p> + +<p>Clara Amedroz, when she first heard the news of her brother's fate, +had felt that she was for ever crushed to the ground. She had known +too well what had been the nature of her brother's life, but she had +not expected or feared any such termination to his career as this +which had now come upon him—to the terrible affliction of all +belonging to him. She felt at first, as did also her father, that she +and he were annihilated as regards this world, not only by an +enduring grief, but also by a disgrace which would never allow her +again to hold up her head. And for many a long year much of this +feeling clung to her;—clung to her much more strongly than to her +father. But strength was hers to perceive, even before she had +reached her home, that it was her duty to repress both the feeling of +shame and the sorrow, as far as they were capable of repression. Her +brother had been weak, and in his weakness had sought a coward's +escape from the ills of the world around him. She must not also be a +coward! Bad as life might be to her henceforth, she must endure it +with such fortitude as she could muster. So resolving she returned to +her father, and was able to listen to his railings with a fortitude +that was essentially serviceable both to him and to herself.</p> + +<p>"Both of you! Both of you!" the unhappy father had said in his woe. +"The wretched boy has destroyed you as much as himself!" "No, sir," +she had answered, with a forbearance in her misery, which, terrible +as was the effort, she forced herself to accomplish for his sake. "It +is not so. No thought of that need add to your grief. My poor brother +has not hurt me;—not in the way you mean." "He has ruined us all," +said the father; "root and branch, man and woman, old and young, +house and land. He has brought the family to an end;—ah me, to such +an end!" After that the name of him who had taken himself from among +them was not mentioned between the father and daughter, and Clara +settled herself to the duties of her new life, striving to live as +though there was no great sorrow around her—as though no cloud-storm +had burst over her head.</p> + +<p>The family lawyer, who lived at Taunton, had communicated the fact of +Charles's death to Mr. Belton, and Belton had acknowledged the letter +with the ordinary expressions of regret. The lawyer had alluded to +the entail, saying that it was improbable that Mr. Amedroz would have +another son. To this Belton had replied that for his cousin Clara's +sake he hoped that the squire's life might be long spared. The lawyer +smiled as he read the wish, thinking to himself that luckily no wish +on the part of Will Belton could influence his old client either for +good or evil. What man, let alone what lawyer, will ever believe in +the sincerity of such a wish as that expressed by the heir to a +property? And yet where is the man who will not declare to himself +that such, under such circumstances, would be his own wish?</p> + +<p>Clara Amedroz at this time was not a very young lady. She had already +passed her twenty-fifth birthday, and in manners, appearance, and +habits was, at any rate, as old as her age. She made no pretence to +youth, speaking of herself always as one whom circumstances required +to take upon herself age in advance of her years. She did not dress +young, or live much with young people, or correspond with other girls +by means of crossed letters; nor expect that, for her, young +pleasures should be provided. Life had always been serious with her; +but now, we may say, since the terrible tragedy in the family, it +must be solemn as well as serious. The memory of her brother must +always be upon her; and the memory also of the fact that her father +was now an impoverished man, on whose behalf it was her duty to care +that every shilling spent in the house did its full twelve pennies' +worth of work. There was a mixture in this of deep tragedy and of +little care, which seemed to destroy for her the poetry as well as +the pleasure of life. The poetry and tragedy might have gone hand in +hand together; and so might the cares and pleasures of life have +done, had there been no black sorrow of which she must be ever +mindful. But it was her lot to have to scrutinize the butcher's bill +as she was thinking of her brother's fate; and to work daily among +small household things while the spectre of her brother's corpse was +ever before her eyes.</p> + +<p>A word must be said to explain how it had come to pass that the life +led by Miss Amedroz had been more than commonly serious before that +tragedy had befallen the family. The name of the lady who stood to +Clara in the place of an aunt has been already mentioned. When a girl +has a mother, her aunt may be little or nothing to her. But when the +mother is gone, if there be an aunt unimpeded with other family +duties, then the family duties of that aunt begin—and are assumed +sometimes with great vigour. Such had been the case with Mrs. +Winterfield. No woman ever lived, perhaps, with more conscientious +ideas of her duty as a woman than Mrs. Winterfield of Prospect Place, +Perivale. And this, as I say it, is intended to convey no scoff +against that excellent lady. She was an excellent lady—unselfish, +given to self-restraint, generous, pious, looking to find in her +religion a safe path through life—a path as safe as the facts of +Adam's fall would allow her feet to find. She was a woman fearing +much for others, but fearing also much for herself, striving to +maintain her house in godliness, hating sin, and struggling with the +weakness of her humanity so that she might not allow herself to hate +the sinners. But her hatred for the sin she found herself bound at +all times to pronounce—to show it by some act at all seasons. To +fight the devil was her work—was the appointed work of every living +soul, if only living souls could be made to acknowledge the necessity +of the task. Now an aunt of that kind, when she assumes her duties +towards a motherless niece, is apt to make life serious.</p> + +<p>But, it will be said, Clara Amedroz could have rebelled; and Clara's +father was hardly made of such stuff that obedience to the aunt would +be enforced on her by parental authority. Doubtless Clara could have +rebelled against her aunt. Indeed, I do not know that she had +hitherto been very obedient. But there were family facts about these +Winterfield connections which would have made it difficult for her to +ignore her so-called aunt, even had she wished to do so. Mrs. +Winterfield had twelve hundred a year at her own disposal, and she +was the only person related to the Amedroz family from whom Mr. +Amedroz had a right to have expectations on his daughter's behalf. +Clara had, in a measure, been claimed by the lady, and the father had +made good the lady's claim, and Clara had acknowledged that a portion +of her life was due to the demands of Perivale. These demands had +undoubtedly made her life serious.</p> + +<p>Life at Perivale was a very serious thing. As regards amusement, +ordinarily so called, the need of any such institution was not +acknowledged at Prospect House. Food, drink, and raiment were +acknowledged to be necessary to humanity, and, in accordance with the +rules of that house, they were supplied in plenty, and good of their +kind. Such ladies as Mrs. Winterfield generally keep good tables, +thinking no doubt that the eatables should do honour to the grace +that is said for them. And Mrs. Winterfield herself always wore a +thick black silk dress,—not rusty or dowdy with age,—but with some +gloss of the silk on it; giving away, with secret, underhand, +undiscovered charity, her old dresses to another lady of her own +sort, on whom fortune had not bestowed twelve hundred a year. And +Mrs. Winterfield kept a low, four-wheeled, one-horsed little phaeton, +in which she made her pilgrimages among the poor of Perivale, driven +by the most solemn of stable-boys, dressed up in a white great coat, +the most priggish of hats, and white cotton gloves. At the rate of +five miles an hour was she driven about, and this driving was to her +the amusement of life. But such an occupation to Clara Amedroz +assisted to make life serious.</p> + +<p>In person Mrs. Winterfield was tall and thin, wearing on her brow +thin braids of false hair. She had suffered much from acute ill +health, and her jaws were sunken, and her eyes were hollow, and there +was a look of woe about her which seemed ever to be telling of her +own sorrows in this world and of the sorrows of others in the world +to come. Ill-nature was written on her face, but in this her face was +a false face. She had the manners of a cross, peevish woman; but her +manners also were false, and gave no proper idea of her character. +But still, such as she was, she made life very serious to those who +were called upon to dwell with her.</p> + +<p>I need, I hope, hardly say that a young lady such as Miss Amedroz, +even though she had reached the age of twenty-five,—for at the time +to which I am now alluding she had nearly done so,—and was not young +of her age, had formed for herself no plan of life in which her +aunt's money figured as a motive power. She had gone to Perivale when +she was very young, because she had been told to do so, and had +continued to go, partly from obedience, partly from habit, and partly +from affection. An aunt's dominion, when once well established in +early years, cannot easily be thrown altogether aside,—even though a +young lady have a will of her own. Now Clara Amedroz had a strong +will of her own, and did not at all,—at any rate in these latter +days,—belong to that school of divinity in which her aunt shone +almost as a professor. And this circumstance, also, added to the +seriousness of her life. But in regard to her aunt's money she had +entertained no established hopes; and when her aunt opened her mind +to her on that subject, a few days before the arrival of the fatal +news at Perivale, Clara, though she was somewhat surprised, was by no +means disappointed. Now there was a certain Captain Aylmer in the +question, of whom in this opening chapter it will be necessary to say +a few words.</p> + +<p>Captain Frederic Folliott Aylmer was, in truth, the nephew of Mrs. +Winterfield, whereas Clara Amedroz was not, in truth, her niece. And +Captain Aylmer was also Member of Parliament for the little borough +of Perivale, returned altogether on the Low Church interest,—for a +devotion to which, and for that alone, Perivale was noted among +boroughs. These facts together added not a little to Mrs. +Winterfield's influence and professorial power in the place, and gave +a dignity to the one-horse chaise which it might not otherwise have +possessed. But Captain Aylmer was only the second son of his father, +Sir Anthony Aylmer, who had married a Miss Folliott, sister of our +Mrs. Winterfield. On Frederic Aylmer his mother's estate was settled. +That and Mrs. Winterfield's property lay in the neighbourhood of +Perivale; and now, on the occasion to which I am alluding, Mrs. +Winterfield thought it necessary to tell Clara that the property must +all go together. She had thought about it, and had doubted about it, +and had prayed about it, and now she found that such a disposition of +it was her duty.</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure you're right, aunt," Clara had said. She knew very +well what had come of that provision which her father had attempted +to make for her, and knew also how great were her father's +expectations in regard to Mrs. Winterfield's money.</p> + +<p>"I hope I am; but I have thought it right to tell you. I shall feel +myself bound to tell Frederic. I have had many doubts, but I think I +am right."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you are, aunt. What would he think of me if, at some +future time, he should have to find that I had been in his way?"</p> + +<p>"The future time will not be long now, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I hope it may; but long or short, it is better so."</p> + +<p>"I think it is, my dear; I think it is. I think it is my duty."</p> + +<p>It must be understood that Captain Aylmer was member for Perivale on +the Low Church interest, and that, therefore, when at Perivale he was +decidedly a Low Churchman. I am not aware that the peculiarity stuck +to him very closely at Aylmer Castle, in Yorkshire, or among his +friends in London; but there was no hypocrisy in this, as the world +goes. Women in such matters are absolutely false if they be not +sincere; but men, with political views, and with much of their future +prospects in jeopardy also, are allowed to dress themselves +differently for different scenes. Whatever be the peculiar interest +on which a man goes into Parliament, of course he has to live up to +that in his own borough. Whether malt, the franchise, or teetotalism +be his rallying point, of course he is full of it when among his +constituents. But it is not desirable that he should be full of it +also at his club. Had Captain Aylmer become Prime Minister, he would +no doubt, have made Low Church bishops. It was the side to which he +had taken himself in that matter,—not without good reasons. And he +could say a sharp word or two in season about vestments; he was +strong against candles, and fought for his side fairly well. No one +had good right to complain of Captain Aylmer as being insincere; but +had his aunt known the whole history of her nephew's life, I doubt +whether she would have made him her heir,—thinking that in doing so +she was doing the best for the good cause.</p> + +<p>The whole history of her niece's life she did know, and she knew that +Clara was not with her, heart and soul. Had Clara left the old woman +in doubt on this subject, she would have been a hypocrite. Captain +Aylmer did not often spend a Sunday at Perivale, but when he did, he +went to church three times, and submitted himself to the yoke. He was +thinking of the borough votes quite as much as of his aunt's money, +and was carrying on his business after the fashion of men. But Clara +found herself compelled to maintain some sort of a fight, though she +also went to church three times on Sunday. And there was another +reason why Mrs. Winterfield thought it right to mention Captain +Aylmer's name to her niece on this occasion.</p> + +<p>"I had hoped," she said, "that it might make no difference in what +way my money was left."</p> + +<p>Clara well understood what this meant, as will, probably, the reader +also. "I can't say but what it will make a difference," she answered, +smiling; "but I shall always think that you have done right. Why +should I stand in Captain Aylmer's way?"</p> + +<p>"I had hoped your ways might have been the same," said the old lady, +fretfully.</p> + +<p>"But they cannot be the same."</p> + +<p>"No; you do not see things as he sees them. Things that are serious +to him are, I fear, only light to you. Dear Clara, would I could see +you more in earnest as to the only matter that is worth our +earnestness." Miss Amedroz said nothing as to the Captain's +earnestness, though, perhaps, her ideas as to his ideas about +religion were more correct than those held by Mrs. Winterfield. But +it would not have suited her to raise any argument on that subject. +"I pray for you, Clara," continued the old lady; "and will do so as +long as the power of prayer is left to me. I hope,—I hope you do not +cease to pray for yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I endeavour, aunt."</p> + +<p>"It is an endeavour which, if really made, never fails."</p> + +<p>Clara said nothing more, and her aunt also remained silent. Soon +afterwards, the four-wheeled carriage, with the demure stable-boy, +came to the door, and Clara was driven up and down through the +streets of Perivale in a manner which was an injury to her. She knew +that she was suffering an injustice, but it was one of which she +could not make complaint. She submitted to her aunt, enduring the +penances that were required of her; and, therefore, her aunt had +opportunity enough to see her shortcomings. Mrs. Winterfield did see +them, and judged her accordingly. Captain Aylmer, being a man and a +Member of Parliament, was called upon to bear no such penances, and, +therefore, his shortcomings were not suspected.</p> + +<p>But, after all, what title had she ever possessed to entertain +expectations from Mrs. Winterfield? When she thought of it all in her +room that night, she told herself that it was strange that her aunt +should have spoken to her in such a way on such a subject. But, then, +so much had been said to her on the matter by her father, so much, no +doubt, had reached her aunt's ears also, the hope that her position +with reference to the rich widow at Perivale might be beneficial to +her had been so often discussed at Belton as a make-weight against +the extravagance of the heir, there had already been so much of this +mistake, that she taught herself to perceive that the communication +was needed. "In her honesty she has not chosen to leave me with false +hopes," said Clara to herself. And at that moment she loved her aunt +for her honesty.</p> + +<p>Then, on the day but one following this conversation as to the +destiny of her aunt's property, came the terrible tidings of her +brother's death. Captain Aylmer, who had been in London at the time, +hurried down to Perivale, and had been the first to tell Miss Amedroz +what had happened. The words spoken between them then had not been +many, but Clara knew that Captain Aylmer had been kind to her; and +when he had offered to accompany her to Belton, she had thanked him +with a degree of gratitude which had almost seemed to imply more of +regard between them than Clara would have acknowledged to exist. But +in moments such as those, soft words may be spoken and hands may be +pressed without any of that meaning which soft words and the grasping +of hands generally carry with them. As far as Taunton Captain Aylmer +did go with Miss Amedroz, and there they parted, he on his journey up +to town, and she for her father's desolate house at Belton.</p> + + +<p><a name="c2" id="c2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> +<h4>THE HEIR PROPOSES TO VISIT HIS COUSINS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It was full summer at Belton, and the sweet scent of the new hay +filled the porch of the old house with fragrance, as Clara sat there +alone with her work. Immediately before the house door, between that +and the old tower, there stood one of Farmer Stovey's hay-carts, now +empty, with an old horse between the shafts looking as though he were +asleep in the sun. Immediately beyond the tower the men were loading +another cart, and the women and children were chattering as they +raked the scattered remnants up to the rows. Under the shadow of the +old tower, but in sight of Clara as she sat in the porch, there lay +the small beer-barrels of the hay-makers, and three or four rakes +were standing erect against the old grey wall. It was now eleven +o'clock, and Clara was waiting for her father, who was not yet out of +his room. She had taken his breakfast to him in bed, as was her +custom; for he had fallen into idle ways, and the luxury of his bed +was, of all his remaining luxuries, the one that he liked the best. +After a while he came down to her, having an open letter in his hand. +Clara saw that he intended either to show it to her or to speak of +it, and asked him therefore, with some tone of interest in her voice, +from whom it had come. But Mr. Amedroz was fretful at the moment, and +instead of answering her began to complain of his tenant's ill-usage +of him.</p> + +<p>"What has he got his cart there for? I haven't let him the road up to +the hall door. I suppose he will bring his things into the parlour +next."</p> + +<p>"I rather like it, papa."</p> + +<p>"Do you? I can only say that you're lucky in your tastes. I don't +like it, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stovey is out there. Shall I ask him to have the things moved +further off?"</p> + +<p>"No, my dear,—no. I must bear it, as I do all the rest of it. What +does it matter? There'll be an end of it soon. He pays his rent, and +I suppose he is right to do as he pleases. But I can't say that I +like it."</p> + +<p>"Am I to see the letter, papa?" she asked, wishing to turn his mind +from the subject of the hay-cart.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. I brought it for you to see; though perhaps I should be +doing better if I burned it, and said nothing more about it. It is a +most impudent production; and heartless,—very heartless."</p> + +<p>Clara was accustomed to such complaints as these from her father. +Everything that everybody did around him he would call heartless. The +man pitied himself so much in his own misery, that he expected to +live in an atmosphere of pity from others; and though the pity +doubtless was there, he misdoubted it. He thought that Farmer Stovey +was cruel in that he had left the hay-cart near the house, to wound +his eyes by reminding him that he was no longer master of the ground +before his own hall door. He thought that the women and children were +cruel to chatter so near his ears. He almost accused his daughter of +cruelty, because she had told him that she liked the contiguity of +the hay-making. Under such circumstances as those which enveloped him +and her, was it not heartless in her to like anything? It seemed to +him that the whole world of Belton should be drowned in woe because +of his misery.</p> + +<p>"Where is it from, papa?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"There, you may read it. Perhaps it is better that you should know +that it has been written." Then she read the letter, which was as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span></p> + +<p>"Plaistow Hall, — July, 186—."</p> + +<p>Though she had never before seen the handwriting, she knew at once +from whence came the letter, for she had often heard of Plaistow +Hall. It was the name of the farm at which her distant cousin, Will +Belton, lived, and her father had more than once been at the trouble +of explaining to her, that though the place was called a hall, the +house was no more than a farmhouse. He had never seen Plaistow Hall, +and had never been in Norfolk; but so much he could take upon himself +to say, "They call all the farms halls down there." It was not +wonderful that he should dislike his heir; and, perhaps, not +unnatural that he should show his dislike after this fashion. Clara, +when she read the address, looked up into her father's face. "You +know who it is now," he said. And then she read the letter.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Plaistow Hall, — July, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>I have not written to you before since your bereavement, +thinking it better to wait awhile; but I hope you have not +taken me to be unkind in this, or have supposed me to be +unmindful of your sorrow. Now I take up my pen, hoping +that I may make you understand how greatly I was +distressed by what has occurred. I believe I am now the +nearest male relative that you have, and as such I am very +anxious to be of service to you if it may be possible. +Considering the closeness of our connection, and my +position in reference to the property, it seems bad that +we should never meet. I can assure you that you would find +me very friendly if we could manage to come together.</p> + +<p>I should think nothing of running across to Belton, if you +would receive me at your house. I could come very well +before harvest, if that would suit you, and would stay +with you for a week. Pray give my kindest regards to my +cousin Clara, whom I can only just remember as a very +little girl. She was with her aunt at Perivale when I was +at Belton as a boy. She shall find a friend in me if she +wants a friend.</p> + +<p class="ind14">Your affectionate cousin,</p> + +<p class="ind18"><span class="smallcaps">W. Belton</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Clara read the letter very slowly, so that she might make herself +sure of its tone and bearing before she was called upon by her father +to express her feeling respecting it. She knew that she would be +expected to abuse it violently, and to accuse the writer of +vulgarity, insolence, and cruelty; but she had already learned that +she must not allow herself to accede to all her father's fantasies. +For his sake, and for his protection, it was necessary that she +should differ from him, and even contradict him. Were she not to do +so, he would fall into a state of wailing and complaining that would +exaggerate itself almost to idiotcy. And it was imperative that she +herself should exercise her own opinion on many points, almost +without reference to him. She alone knew how utterly destitute she +would be when he should die. He, in the first days of his agony, had +sobbed forth his remorse as to her ruin; but, even when doing so, he +had comforted himself with the remembrance of Mrs. Winterfield's +money, and Mrs. Winterfield's affection for his daughter. And the +aunt, when she had declared her purpose to Clara, had told herself +that the provision made for Clara by her father was sufficient. To +neither of them had Clara told her own position. She could not inform +her aunt that her father had given up to the poor reprobate who had +destroyed himself all that had been intended for her. Had she done so +she would have been asking her aunt for charity. Nor would she bring +herself to add to her father's misery, by destroying the hopes which +still supported him. She never spoke of her own position in regard to +money, but she knew that it had become her duty to live a wary, +watchful life, taking much upon herself in their impoverished +household, and holding her own opinion against her father's when her +doing so became expedient. So she finished the letter in silence, and +did not speak at the moment when the movement of her eyes declared +that she had completed the task.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he.</p> + +<p>"I do not think my cousin means badly."</p> + +<p>"You don't! I do, then. I think he means very badly. What business +has he to write to me, talking of his position?"</p> + +<p>"I can't see anything amiss in his doing so, papa. I think he wishes +to be friendly. The property will be his some day, and I don't see +why that should not be mentioned, when there is occasion."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, Clara, you surprise me. But women never understand +delicacy in regard to money. They have so little to do with it, and +think so little about it, that they have no occasion for such +delicacy."</p> + +<p>Clara could not help the thought that to her mind the subject was +present with sufficient frequency to make delicacy very desirable, if +only it were practicable. But of this she said nothing. "And what +answer will you send to him, papa?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"None at all. Why should I trouble myself to write to him?"</p> + +<p>"I will take the trouble off your hands."</p> + +<p>"And what will you say to him?"</p> + +<p>"I will ask him to come here, as he proposes."</p> + +<p>"Clara!"</p> + +<p>"Why not, papa? He is the heir to the property, and why should he not +be permitted to see it? There are many things in which his +co-operation with you might be a comfort to you. I can't tell you +whether the tenants and people are treating you well, but he can do +so; and, moreover, I think he means to be kind. I do not see why we +should quarrel with our cousin because he is the heir to your +property. It is not through any doing of his own that he is so."</p> + +<p>This reasoning had no effect upon Mr. Amedroz, but his daughter's +resolution carried the point against him in spite of his want of +reason. No letter was written that day, or on the next; but on the +day following a formal note was sent off by Clara, in which Mr. +Belton was told that Mr. Amedroz would be happy to receive him at +Belton Castle. The letter was written by the daughter, but the father +was responsible for the formality. He sat over her while she wrote +it, and nearly drove her distracted by discussing every word and +phrase. At last, Clara was so annoyed with her own production, that +she was almost tempted to write another letter unknown to her father; +but the formal note went.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>I am desired by my father to say that he will be happy to +receive you at Belton Castle, at the time fixed by +yourself.</p> + +<p class="ind14">Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="ind16"><span class="smallcaps">Clara Amedroz</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>There was no more than that, but that had the desired effect; and by +return of post there came a rejoinder, saying that Will Belton would +be at the Castle on the fifteenth of August. "They can do without me +for about ten days," he said in his postscript, writing in a familiar +tone, which did not seem to have been at all checked by the coldness +of his cousin's note,—"as our harvest will be late; but I must be +back for a week's work before the partridges."</p> + +<p>"Heartless! quite heartless!" Mr. Amedroz said as he read this. +"Partridges! to talk of partridges at such a time as this!"</p> + +<p>Clara, however, would not acknowledge that she agreed with her +father; but she could not altogether restrain a feeling on her own +part that her cousin's good humour towards her and Mr. Amedroz should +have been repressed by the tone of her letter to him. The man was to +come, however, and she would not judge of him until he was there.</p> + +<p>In one house in the neighbourhood, and in only one, had Miss Amedroz +a friend with whom she was intimate; and as regarded even this single +friend, the intimacy was the effect rather of circumstances than of +real affection. She liked Mrs. Askerton, and saw her almost daily; +but she could hardly tell herself that she loved her neighbour.</p> + +<p>In the little town of Belton, close to the church, there stood a +pretty, small house, called Belton Cottage. It was so near the church +that strangers always supposed it to be the parsonage; but the +rectory stood away out in the country, half a mile from the town, on +the road to Redicote, and was a large house, three stories high, with +grounds of its own, and very ugly. Here lived the old bachelor +rector, seventy years of age, given much to long absences when he +could achieve them, and never on good terms with his bishop. His two +curates lived at Redicote, where there was a second church. Belton +Cottage, which was occupied by Colonel Askerton and Mrs. Askerton, +was on the Amedroz property, and had been hired some two years since +by the Colonel, who was then a stranger in the country and altogether +unknown to the Belton people. But he had come there for shooting, and +therefore his coming had been understood. Even as long ago as two +years since, there had been neither use nor propriety in keeping the +shooting for the squire's son, and it had been let with the cottage +to Colonel Askerton. So Colonel Askerton had come there with his +wife, and no one in the neighbourhood had known anything about them. +Mr. Amedroz, with his daughter, had called upon them, and gradually +there had grown up an intimacy between Clara and Mrs. Askerton. There +was an opening from the garden of Belton Cottage into the park, so +that familiar intercourse was easy, and Mrs. Askerton was a woman who +knew well how to make herself pleasant to such another woman as Miss +Amedroz.</p> + +<p>The reader may as well know at once that rumours prejudicial to the +Askertons reached Belton before they had been established there for +six months. At Taunton, which was twenty miles distant, these rumours +were very rife, and there were people there who knew with +accuracy,—though, probably without a grain of truth in their +accuracy,—every detail in the history of Mrs. Askerton's life. And +something, too, reached Clara's ears—something from old Mr. Wright, +the rector, who loved scandal, and was very ill-natured. "A very nice +woman," the rector had said; "but she does not seem to have any +belongings in particular." "She has got a husband," Clara had replied +with some little indignation, for she had never loved Mr. Wright. +"Yes; I suppose she has got a husband." Then Clara had, in her own +judgment, accused the rector of lying, evil-speaking, and slandering, +and had increased the measure of her cordiality to Mrs. Askerton. But +something more she had heard on the same subject at Perivale. "Before +you throw yourself into close intimacy with the lady, I think you +should know something about her," Mrs. Winterfield had said to her. +"I do know something about her; I know that she has the manners and +education of a lady, and that she is living affectionately with her +husband, who is devoted to her. What more ought I to know?" "If you +really do know all that, you know a great deal," Mrs. Winterfield had +replied.</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything against her, aunt?" Clara asked, after a pause.</p> + +<p>There was another pause before Mrs. Winterfield answered. "No my +dear; I cannot say that I do. But I think that young ladies, before +they make intimate friendships, should be very sure of their +friends."</p> + +<p>"You have already acknowledged that I know a great deal about her," +Clara replied. And then the conversation was at an end. Clara had not +been quite ingenuous, as she acknowledged to herself. She was aware +that her aunt would not permit herself to repeat rumours as to the +truth of which she had no absolute knowledge. She understood that the +weakness of her aunt's caution was due to the old lady's sense of +charity and dislike of slander. But Clara had buckled on her armour +for Mrs. Askerton, and was glad, therefore, to achieve her little +victory. When we buckle on our armour in any cause, we are apt to go +on buckling it, let the cause become as weak as it may; and Clara +continued her intimacy with Mrs. Askerton, although there was +something in the lady's modes of speech, and something also in her +modes of thinking, which did not quite satisfy the aspirations of +Miss Amedroz as to a friend.</p> + +<p>Colonel Askerton himself was a pleasant, quiet man, who seemed to be +contented with the life which he was leading. For six weeks in April +and May he would go up to town, leaving Mrs. Askerton at the +cottage,—as to which, probably jovial, absence in the metropolis +there seemed to be no spirit of grudging on the part of the wife. On +the first of September a friend would come to the cottage and remain +there for six weeks' shooting; and during the winter the Colonel and +his wife always went to Paris for a fortnight. Such had been their +life for the last two years; and thus,—so said Mrs. Askerton to +Clara,—did they intend to live as long as they could keep the +cottage at Belton. Society at Belton they had none, and,—as they +said,—desired none. Between them and Mr. Wright there was only a +speaking acquaintance. The married curate at Redicote would not let +his wife call on Mrs. Askerton, and the unmarried curate was a +hard-worked, clerical hack,—a parochial minister at all times and +seasons, who went to no houses except the houses of the poor, and who +would hold communion with no man, and certainly with no woman, who +would not put up with clerical admonitions for Sunday backslidings. +Mr. Amedroz himself neither received guests nor went as a guest to +other men's houses. He would occasionally stand for a while at the +gate of the Colonel's garden, and repeat the list of his own woes as +long as his neighbour would stand there to hear it. But there was no +society at Belton, and Clara, as far as she herself was aware, was +the only person with whom Mrs. Askerton held any social intercourse, +except what she might have during her short annual holiday in Paris.</p> + +<p>"Of course, you are right," she said, when Clara told her of the +proposed coming of Mr. Belton. "If he turn out to be a good fellow, +you will have gained a great deal. And should he be a bad fellow, you +will have lost nothing. In either case you will know him, and +considering how he stands towards you, that itself is desirable."</p> + +<p>"But if he should annoy papa?"</p> + +<p>"In your papa's condition, my dear, the coming of any one will annoy +him. At least, he will say so; though I do not in the least doubt +that he will like the excitement better even than you will."</p> + +<p>"I can't say there will be much excitement to me."</p> + +<p>"No excitement in a young man's coming into the house! Without +shocking your propriety, allow me to say that that is impossible. Of +course, he is coming to see whether he can't make matters all right +by marrying you."</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense, Mrs. Askerton."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Let it be nonsense. But why shouldn't he? It's just what +he ought to do. He hasn't got a wife; and, as far as I know, you +haven't got a lover."</p> + +<p>"I certainly have not got a lover."</p> + +<p>"Our religious nephew at Perivale does not seem to be of any use."</p> + +<p>"I wish, Mrs. Askerton, you would not speak of Captain Aylmer in that +way. I don't know any man whom I like so much, or at any rate better, +than Captain Aylmer; but I hate the idea that no girl can become +acquainted with an unmarried man without having her name mentioned +with his, and having to hear ill-natured remarks of that kind."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will learn to like this other man much better. Think how +nice it will be to be mistress of the old place after all. And then +to go back to the old family name! If I were you I would make up my +mind not to let him leave the place till I had brought him to my +feet."</p> + +<p>"If you go on like that I will not speak to you about him again."</p> + +<p>"Or rather not to my feet,—for gentlemen have laid aside the humble +way of making love for the last twenty years at least; but I don't +know whether the women haven't gained quite as much by the change as +the men."</p> + +<p>"As I know nothing will stop you when you once get into a vein of +that kind, I shall go," said Clara. "And till this man has come and +gone I shall not mention his name again in your presence."</p> + +<p>"So be it," said Mrs. Askerton; "but as I will promise to say nothing +more about him, you need not go on his account." But Clara had got +up, and did leave the cottage at once.</p> + + +<p><a name="c3" id="c3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> +<h4>WILL BELTON.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Mr. Belton came to the castle, and nothing further had been said at +the cottage about his coming. Clara had seen Mrs. Askerton in the +meantime frequently, but that lady had kept her promise—almost to +Clara's disappointment. For she—though she had in truth disliked the +proposition that her cousin could be coming with any special views +with reference to herself had nevertheless sufficient curiosity about +the stranger to wish to talk about him. Her father, indeed, mentioned +Belton's name very frequently, saying something with reference to him +every time he found himself in his daughter's presence. A dozen times +he said that the man was heartless to come to the house at such a +time, and he spoke of his cousin always as though the man were guilty +of a gross injustice in being heir to the property. But not the less +on that account did he fidget himself about the room in which Belton +was to sleep, about the food that Belton was to eat, and especially +about the wine that Belton was to drink. What was he to do for wine? +The stock of wine in the cellars at Belton Castle was, no doubt, very +low. The squire himself drank a glass or two of port daily, and had +some remnant of his old treasures by him, which might perhaps last +him his time; and occasionally there came small supplies of sherry +from the grocer at Taunton; but Mr. Amedroz pretended to think that +Will Belton would want champagne and claret;—and he would continue +to make these suggestions in spite of his own repeated complaints +that the man was no better than an ordinary farmer. "I've no doubt +he'll like beer," said Clara. "Beer!" said her father, and then +stopped himself, as though he were lost in doubt whether it would +best suit him to scorn his cousin for having so low a taste as that +suggested on his behalf, or to ridicule his daughter's idea that the +household difficulty admitted of so convenient a solution.</p> + +<p>The day of the arrival at last came, and Clara certainly was in a +twitter, although she had steadfastly resolved that she would be in +no twitter at all. She had told her aunt by letter of the proposed +visit, and Mrs. Winterfield had expressed her approbation, saying +that she hoped it would lead to good results. Of what good results +could her aunt be thinking? The one probable good result would surely +be this—that relations so nearly connected should know each other. +Why should there be any fuss made about such a visit? But, +nevertheless, Clara, though she made no outward fuss, knew that +inwardly she was not as calm about the man's coming as she would have +wished herself to be.</p> + +<p>He arrived about five o'clock in a gig from Taunton. Five was the +ordinary dinner hour at Belton, but it had been postponed till six on +this day, in the hope that the cousin might make his appearance at +any rate by that hour. Mr. Amedroz had uttered various complaints as +to the visitor's heartlessness in not having written to name the hour +of his arrival, and was manifestly intending to make the most of the +grievance should he not present himself before six;—but this +indulgence was cut short by the sound of the gig wheels. Mr. Amedroz +and his daughter were sitting in a small drawing-room, which looked +out to the front of the house and he, seated in his accustomed chair, +near the window, could see the arrival. For a moment or two he +remained quiet in his chair, as though he would not allow so +insignificant a thing as his cousin's coming to ruffle him;—but he +could not maintain this dignified indifference, and before Belton was +out of the gig he had shuffled out into the hall.</p> + +<p>Clara followed her father almost unconsciously and soon found herself +shaking hands with a big man, over six feet high, broad in the +shoulders, large limbed, with bright quick grey eyes, a large mouth, +teeth almost too perfect and a well-formed nose, with thick short +brown hair and small whiskers which came but half-way down his +cheeks—a decidedly handsome man with a florid face, but still, +perhaps, with something of the promised roughness of the farmer. But +a more good-humoured looking countenance Clara felt at once that she +had never beheld.</p> + +<p>"And you are the little girl that I remember when I was a boy at Mr. +Folliott's?" he said. His voice was clear, and rather loud, but it +sounded very pleasantly in that sad old house.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am the little girl," said Clara, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear! and that's twenty years ago now," said he.</p> + +<p>"But you oughtn't to remind me of that, Mr. Belton."</p> + +<p>"Oughtn't I? Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because it shows how very old I am."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes;—to be sure. But there's nobody here that signifies. How +well I remember this room;—and the old tower out there. It isn't +changed a bit!"</p> + +<p>"Not to the outward eye, perhaps," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"That's what I mean. So they're making hay still. Our hay has been +all up these three weeks. I didn't know you ever meadowed the park." +Here he trod with dreadful severity upon the corns of Mr. Amedroz, +but he did not perceive it. And when the squire muttered something +about a tenant, and the inconvenience of keeping land in his own +hands, Belton would have gone on with the subject had not Clara +changed the conversation. The squire complained bitterly of this to +Clara when they were alone, saying that it was very heartless.</p> + +<p>She had a little scheme of her own,—a plan arranged for the saying +of a few words to her cousin on the earliest opportunity of their +being alone together,—and she contrived that this should take place +within half an hour after his arrival, as he went through the hall up +to his room. "Mr. Belton," she said, "I'm sure you will not take it +amiss if I take a cousin's privilege at once and explain to you +something of our way of living here. My dear father is not very +strong."</p> + +<p>"He is much altered since I saw him last."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Think of all that he has had to bear! Well, Mr. Belton, the +fact is, that we are not so well off as we used to be, and are +obliged to live in a very quiet way. You will not mind that?"</p> + +<p>"Who? I?"</p> + +<p>"I take it very kind of you, your coming all this way to see +<span class="nowrap">us—"</span></p> + +<p>"I'd have come three times the distance."</p> + +<p>"But you must put up with us as you find us, you know. The truth is +we are very poor."</p> + +<p>"Well, now;—that's just what I wanted to know. One couldn't write +and ask such a question; but I was sure I should find out if I came."</p> + +<p>"You've found it out already, you see."</p> + +<p>"As for being poor, it's a thing I don't think very much about,—not +for young people. But it isn't comfortable when a man gets old. Now +what I want to know is this; can't something be done?"</p> + +<p>"The only thing to do is to be very kind to him. He has had to let +the park to Mr. Stovey, and he doesn't like talking about it."</p> + +<p>"But if it isn't talked about, how can it be mended?"</p> + +<p>"It can't be mended."</p> + +<p>"We'll see about that. But I'll be kind to him; you see if I ain't. +And I'll tell you what, I'll be kind to you too, if you'll let me. +You have got no brother now."</p> + +<p>"No," said Clara; "I have got no brother now." Belton was looking +full into her face, and saw that her eyes had become clouded with +tears.</p> + +<p>"I will be your brother," said he. "You see if I don't. When I say a +thing I mean it. I will be your brother." And he took her hand, +caressing it, and showing her that he was not in the least afraid of +her. He was blunt in his bearing, saying things which her father +would have called indelicate and heartless, as though they gave him +no effort, and placing himself at once almost in a position of +ascendency. This Clara had not intended. She had thought that her +farmer cousin, in spite of the superiority of his prospects as heir +to the property, would have acceded to her little hints with silent +acquiescence; but instead of this he seemed prepared to take upon +himself the chief part in the play that was to be acted between them. +"Shall it be so?" he said, still holding her hand.</p> + +<p>"You are very kind."</p> + +<p>"I will be more than kind; I will love you dearly if you will let me. +You don't suppose that I have looked you up here for nothing. Blood +is thicker than water, and you have nobody now so near to you as I +am. I don't see why you should be so poor, as the debts have been +paid."</p> + +<p>"Papa has had to borrow money on his life interest in the place."</p> + +<p>"That's the mischief! Never mind. We'll see if we can't do something. +And in the meantime don't make a stranger of me. Anything does for +me. Lord bless you! if you were to see how I rough it sometimes! I +can eat beans and bacon with any one; and what's more, I can go +without 'em if I can't get 'em."</p> + +<p>"We'd better get ready for dinner now. I always dress, because papa +likes to see it." This she said as a hint to her cousin that he would +be expected to change his coat, for her father would have been +annoyed had his guest sat down to dinner without such ceremony. Will +Belton was not very good at taking hints; but he did understand this, +and made the necessary change in his apparel.</p> + +<p>The evening was long and dull, and nothing occurred worthy of remark +except the surprise manifested by Mr. Amedroz when Belton called his +daughter by her Christian name. This he did without the slightest +hesitation, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for +him to do. She was his cousin, and cousins of course addressed each +other in that way. Clara's quick eye immediately saw her father's +slight gesture of dismay, but Belton caught nothing of this. The +squire took an early opportunity of calling him Mr. Belton with some +little peculiarity of expression; but this was altogether lost upon +Will, who five times in the next five minutes addressed "Clara" as +though they were already on the most intimate terms. She would have +answered him in the same way, and would have called him Will, had she +not been afraid of offending her father.</p> + +<p>Mr. Amedroz had declared his purpose of coming down to breakfast +during the period of his cousin's visit, and at half-past nine he was +in the parlour. Clara had been there some time, but had not seen her +cousin. He entered the room immediately after her father, bringing +his hat with him in his hand, and wiping the drops of perspiration +from his brow. "You have been out, Mr. Belton," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"All round the place, sir. Six o'clock doesn't often find me in bed, +summer or winter. What's the use of laying in bed when one has had +enough of sleep?"</p> + +<p>"But that's just the question," said Clara; "whether one has had +enough at six o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Women want more than men, of course. A man, if he means to do any +good with land, must be out early. The grass will grow of itself at +nights, but it wants looking after as soon as the daylight comes."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that it would do much good to the grass here," said the +squire, mournfully.</p> + +<p>"As much here as anywhere. And indeed I've got something to say about +that." He had now seated himself at the breakfast-table, and was +playing with his knife and fork. "I think, sir, you're hardly making +the best you can out of the park."</p> + +<p>"We won't mind talking about it, if you please," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"Well; of course I won't, if you don't like it; but upon my word you +ought to look about you; you ought indeed."</p> + +<p>"In what way do you mean?" said Clara.</p> + +<p>"If your father doesn't like to keep the land in his own hands, he +should let it to some one who would put stock in it,—not go on +cutting it year after year, and putting nothing back, as this fellow +will do. I've been talking to Stovey, and that's just what he means."</p> + +<p>"Nobody here has got money to put stock on the land," said the +squire, angrily.</p> + +<p>"Then you should look for somebody somewhere else. That's all. I'll +tell you what now, Mr. Amedroz, I'll do it myself." By this time he +had helped himself to two large slices of cold mutton, and was eating +his breakfast and talking with an equal amount of energy for either +occupation.</p> + +<p>"That's out of the question," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why it should be out of the question. It would be better +for you,—and better for me too, if this place is ever to be mine." +On hearing this the squire winced, but said nothing. This terrible +fellow was so vehemently outspoken that the poor old man was +absolutely unable to keep pace with him,—even to the repeating of +his wish that the matter should be talked of no further. "I'll tell +you what I'll do, now," continued Belton. "There's altogether, +outside the palings and in, about a hundred and fifty acres of it. +I'll give you one pound two and sixpence an acre, and I won't cut an +acre of grass inside the park;—no, nor much of it outside +either;—only just enough to give me a little fodder for the cattle +in winter."</p> + +<p>"And give up Plaistow Hall?" asked Clara.</p> + +<p>"Lord love you, no. I've a matter of nine hundred acres on hand +there, and most of it under the plough. I've counted it up, and it +would just cost me a thousand pounds to stock this place. I should +come and look at it twice a year or so, and I should see my money +home again, if I didn't get any profit out of it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Amedroz was astonished. The man had only been in his house one +night, and was proposing to take all his troubles off his hands. He +did not relish the proposition at all. He did not like to be accused +of not doing as well for himself as others could do for him. He did +not wish to make any change,—although he remembered at the moment +his anger with Farmer Stovey respecting the haycarts. He did not +desire that the heir should have any immediate interest in the place. +But he was not strong enough to meet the proposition with a direct +negative. "I couldn't get rid of Stovey in that way," he said, +plaintively.</p> + +<p>"I've settled it all with Stovey already," said Belton. "He'll be +glad enough to walk off with a twenty-pound note, which I'll give +him. He can't make money out of the place. He hasn't got means to +stock it, and then see the wages that hay-making runs away with! He'd +lose by it even at what he's paying, and he knows it. There won't be +any difficulty about Stovey."</p> + +<p>By twelve o'clock on that day Mr. Stovey had been brought into the +house, and had resigned the land. It had been let to Mr. William +Belton at an increased rental,—a rental increased by nearly forty +pounds per annum,—and that gentleman had already made many of his +arrangements for entering upon his tenancy. The twenty pounds had +already been paid to Stovey, and the transaction was complete. Mr. +Amedroz sat in his chair bewildered, dismayed—and, as he himself +declared,—shocked, quite shocked, at the precipitancy of the young +man. It might be for the best. He didn't know. He didn't feel at all +sure. But such hurrying in such a matter was, under all the +circumstances of the family, to say the least of it, very indelicate. +He was angry with himself for having yielded, and angry with Clara +for having allowed him to do so. "It doesn't signify much," he said, +at last. "Of course he'll have it all to himself before long."</p> + +<p>"But, papa, it really seems to be a much better arrangement for you. +You'll get more <span class="nowrap">money—"</span></p> + +<p>"Money is not everything, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But you'd sooner have Mr. Belton, our own cousin, about the place, +than Mr. Stovey."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. We shall see. The thing is done now, and there is no +use in complaining. I must say he hasn't shown a great deal of +delicacy."</p> + +<p>On that afternoon Belton asked Clara to go out with him, and walk +round the place. He had been again about the grounds, and had made +plans, and counted up capabilities, and calculated his profit and +losses. "If you don't dislike scrambling about," said he, "I'll show +you everything that I intend to do."</p> + +<p>"But I can't have any changes made, Mr. Belton," said Mr. Amedroz, +with some affectation of dignity in his manner. "I won't have the +fences moved, or anything of that kind."</p> + +<p>"Nothing shall be done, sir, that you don't approve. I'll just manage +it all as if I was acting as your own—bailiff." "Son," he was going +to say, but he remembered the fate of his cousin Charles just in time +to prevent the use of the painful word.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to have anything done," said Mr. Amedroz.</p> + +<p>"Then nothing shall be done. We'll just mend a fence or two, to keep +in the cattle, and leave other things as they are. But perhaps Clara +will walk out with me all the same."</p> + +<p>Clara was quite ready to walk out, and had already tied on her hat +and taken her parasol.</p> + +<p>"Your father is a little nervous," said he, as soon as they were +beyond hearing of the house.</p> + +<p>"Can you wonder at it, when you remember all that he has suffered?"</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder at it in the least; and I don't wonder at his +disliking me either."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he dislikes you, Mr. Belton."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but he does. Of course he does. I'm the heir to the place +instead of you. It is natural that he should dislike me. But I'll +live it down. You see if I don't. I'll make him so fond of me, he'll +always want to have me here. I don't mind a little dislike to begin +with."</p> + +<p>"You're a wonderful man, Mr. Belton."</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't call me Mr. Belton. But of course you must do as +you please about that. If I can make him call me Will, I suppose +you'll call me so too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; then I will."</p> + +<p>"It don't much matter what a person is called; does it? Only one +likes to be friendly with one's friends. I suppose you don't like my +calling you Clara."</p> + +<p>"Now you've begun you had better go on."</p> + +<p>"I mean to. I make it a rule never to go back in the world. Your +father is half sorry that he has agreed about the place; but I shan't +let him off now. And I'll tell you what. In spite of what he says, +I'll have it as different as possible before this time next year. +Why, there's lots of timber that ought to come out of the plantation; +and there's places where the roots want stubbing up horribly. These +things always pay for themselves if they are properly done. Any good +done in the world always pays." Clara often remembered those words +afterwards when she was thinking of her cousin's character. Any good +done in the world always pays!</p> + +<p>"But you mustn't offend my father, even though it should do good," +she said.</p> + +<p>"I understand," he answered. "I won't tread on his toes. Where do you +get your milk and butter?"</p> + +<p>"We buy them."</p> + +<p>"From Stovey, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes; from Mr. Stovey. It goes against the rent."</p> + +<p>"And it ought to go against the grain too,—living in the country and +paying for milk! I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you a cow. It +shall be a little present from me to you." He said nothing of the +more important present which this would entail upon him in the matter +of the grass for the cow; but she understood the nature of the +arrangement, and was anxious to prevent it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Belton, I think we'd better not attempt that," she said.</p> + +<p>"But we will attempt it. I've pledged myself to do nothing to oppose +your father; but I've made no such promise as to you. We'll have a +cow before I'm many days older. What a pretty place this is! I do +like these rocks so much, and it is such a comfort to be off the +flat."</p> + +<p>"It is pretty."</p> + +<p>"Very pretty. You've no conception what an ugly place Plaistow is. +The land isn't actual fen now, but it was once. And it's quite flat. +And there is a great dike, twenty feet wide, oozing through it,—just +oozing, you know; and lots of little dikes, at right angles with the +big one. And the fields are all square. And there are no hedges,—and +hardly a tree to be seen in the place."</p> + +<p>"What a picture you have drawn! I should commit suicide if I lived +there."</p> + +<p>"Not if you had so much to do as I have."</p> + +<p>"And what is the house like?"</p> + +<p>"The house is good enough,—an old-fashioned manor-house, with high +brick chimneys, and brick gables, tiled all over, and large square +windows set in stone. The house is good enough, only it stands in the +middle of a farm-yard. I said there were no trees, but there is an +avenue."</p> + +<p>"Come, that's something."</p> + +<p>"It was an old family seat, and they used to have avenues in those +days; but it doesn't lead up to the present hall door. It comes +sideways up to the farm-yard; so that the whole thing must have been +different once, and there must have been a great court-yard. In +Elizabeth's time Plaistow Manor was rather a swell place, and +belonged to some Roman Catholics who came to grief, and then the +Howards got it. There's a whole history about it, only I don't much +care about those things."</p> + +<p>"And is it yours now?"</p> + +<p>"It's between me and my uncle, and I pay him rent for his part. He's +a clergyman you know, and he has a living in Lincolnshire,—not far +off."</p> + +<p>"And do you live alone in that big house?"</p> + +<p>"There's my sister. You've heard of Mary;—haven't you?"</p> + +<p>Then Clara remembered that there was a Miss Belton,—a poor sickly +creature, with a twisted spine and a hump back, as to whose welfare +she ought to have made inquiries.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; of course," said Clara. "I hope she's better than she used +to be,—when we heard of her."</p> + +<p>"She'll never be better. But then she does not become much worse. I +think she does grow a little weaker. She's older than I am, you +know,—two years older; but you would think she was quite an old +woman to look at her." Then, for the next half-hour, they talked +about Mary Belton as they visited every corner of the place. Belton +still had an eye to business as he went on talking, and Clara +remarked how many sticks he moved as he went, how many stones he +kicked on one side, and how invariably he noted any defect in the +fences. But still he talked of his sister, swearing that she was as +good as gold, and at last wiping away the tears from his eyes as he +described her maladies. "And yet I believe she is better off than any +of us," he said, "because she is so good." Clara began to wish that +she had called him Will from the beginning, because she liked him so +much. He was just the man to have for a cousin,—a true loving +cousin, stalwart, self-confident, with a grain or two of tyranny in +his composition as becomes a man in relation to his intimate female +relatives; and one, moreover, with whom she could trust herself to be +familiar without any danger of love-making! She saw his character +clearly, and told herself that she understood it perfectly. He was a +jewel of a cousin, and she must begin to call him Will as speedily as +possible.</p> + +<p>At last they came round in their walk to the gate leading into +Colonel Askerton's garden; and here in the garden, close to the gate, +they found Mrs. Askerton. I fancy that she had been watching for +them, or at any rate watching for Clara, so that she might know how +her friend was carrying herself with her cousin. She came at once to +the wicket, and there she was introduced by Clara to Mr. Belton. Mr. +Belton as he made his bow muttered something awkwardly, and seemed to +lose his self-possession for the moment. Mrs. Askerton was very +gracious to him, and she knew well how to be both gracious and +ungracious. She talked about the scenery, and the charms of the old +place, and the dullness of the people around them, and the +inexpediency of looking for society in country places; till after +awhile Mr. Belton was once more at his ease.</p> + +<p>"How is Colonel Askerton?" asked Clara.</p> + +<p>"He's in-doors. Will you come and see him? He's reading a French +novel, as usual. It's the only thing he ever does in summer. Do you +ever read French novels, Mr. Belton?"</p> + +<p>"I read very little at all, and when I do I read English."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you're a man who has a pursuit in life, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"I should rather think so,—that is, if you mean, by a pursuit, +earning my bread. A man has not much time for French novels with a +thousand acres of land on his hands; even if he knew how to read +French, which I don't."</p> + +<p>"But you're not always at work on your farm?"</p> + +<p>"It's pretty constant, Mrs. Askerton. Then I shoot, and hunt."</p> + +<p>"You're a sportsman?"</p> + +<p>"All men living in the country are,—more or less."</p> + +<p>"Colonel Askerton shoots a great deal. He has the shooting of Belton, +you know. He'll be delighted, I'm sure, to see you if you are here +some time in September. But you, coming from Norfolk, would not care +for partridge-shooting in Somersetshire."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why it shouldn't be as good here as there."</p> + +<p>"Colonel Askerton thinks he has got a fair head of game upon the +place."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. Game is easily kept if people knew how to set about it."</p> + +<p>"Colonel Askerton has a very good keeper, and has gone to a great +deal of expense since he has been here."</p> + +<p>"I'm my own head-keeper," said Belton; "and so I will be,—or rather +should be, if I had this place."</p> + +<p>Something in the lady's tone had grated against his feelings and +offended him; or perhaps he thought that she assumed too many of the +airs of proprietorship because the shooting of the place had been let +to her husband for thirty pounds a-year.</p> + +<p>"I hope you don't mean to say you'll turn us out," said Mrs. +Askerton, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I have no power to turn anybody out or in," said he. "I've got +nothing to do with it."</p> + +<p>Clara, perceiving that matters were not going quite pleasantly +between her old and new friend, thought it best to take her +departure. Belton, as he went, lifted his hat from his head, and +Clara could not keep herself from thinking that he was not only very +handsome, but that he looked very much like a gentleman, in spite of +his occupation as a farmer.</p> + +<p>"By-bye, Clara," said Mrs. Askerton; "come down and see me to-morrow, +there's a dear. Don't forget what a dull life I have of it." Clara +said that she would come. "And I shall be so happy to see Mr. Belton +if he will call before he leaves you." At this Belton again raised +his hat from his head, and muttered some word or two of civility. But +this, his latter muttering, was different from the first, for he had +altogether regained his presence of mind.</p> + +<p>"You didn't seem to get on very well with my friend," said Clara, +laughing, as soon as they had turned away from the cottage.</p> + +<p>"Well, no;—that is to say, not particularly well or particularly +badly. At first I took her for somebody else I knew slightly ever so +long ago, and I was thinking of that other person at the time."</p> + +<p>"And what was the other person's name?"</p> + +<p>"I can't even remember that at the present moment."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Askerton was a Miss Oliphant."</p> + +<p>"That wasn't the other lady's name. But, independently of that, they +can't be the same. The other lady married a Mr. Berdmore."</p> + +<p>"A Mr. Berdmore!" Clara as she repeated the name felt convinced that +she had heard it before, and that she had heard it in connection with +Mrs. Askerton. She certainly had heard the name of Berdmore +pronounced, or had seen it written, or had in some shape come across +the name in Mrs. Askerton's presence; or at any rate somewhere on the +premises occupied by that lady. More than this she could not +remember; but the name, as she had now heard it from her cousin, +became at once distinctly connected in her memory with her friends at +the cottage.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Belton; "a Mr. Berdmore. I knew more of him than of her, +though for the matter of that, I knew very little of him either. She +was a fast-going girl, and his friends were very sorry. But I think +they are both dead or divorced, or that they have come to grief in +some way."</p> + +<p>"And is Mrs. Askerton like the fast-going lady?"</p> + +<p>"In a certain way. Not that I remember what the fast-going lady was +like; but there was something about this woman that put me in mind of +the other. Vigo was her name; now I recollect it,—a Miss Vigo. It's +nine or ten years ago now, and I was little more than a boy."</p> + +<p>"Her name was Oliphant."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose they have anything to do with each other. What riled +me was the way she talked of the shooting. People do when they take a +little shooting. They pay some trumpery thirty or forty pounds a +year, and then they seem to think that it's almost the same as though +they owned the property themselves. I've known a man talk of his +manor because he had the shooting of a wood and a small farm round +it. They are generally shopkeepers out of London, gin distillers, or +brewers, or people like that."</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Belton, I didn't think you could be so furious!"</p> + +<p>"Can't I? When my back's up, it is up! But it isn't up yet."</p> + +<p>"And I hope it won't be up while you remain in Somersetshire."</p> + +<p>"I won't answer for that. There's Stovey's empty cart standing just +where it stood yesterday; and he promised he'd have it home before +three to-day. My back will be up with him if he doesn't mind +himself."</p> + +<p>It was nearly six o'clock when they got back to the house, and Clara +was surprised to find that she had been out three hours with her +cousin. Certainly it had been very pleasant. The usual companion of +her walks, when she had a companion, was Mrs. Askerton; but Mrs. +Askerton did not like real walking. She would creep about the grounds +for an hour or so, and even such companionship as that was better to +Clara than absolute solitude; but now she had been carried about the +place, getting over stiles and through gates, and wandering through +the copses, till she was tired and hungry, and excited and happy. +"Oh, papa," she said, "we have had such a walk!"</p> + +<p>"I thought we were to have dined at five," he replied, in a low +wailing voice.</p> + +<p>"No, papa, indeed,—indeed you said six."</p> + +<p>"That was for yesterday."</p> + +<p>"You said we were to make it six while Mr. Belton was here."</p> + +<p>"Very well;—if it must be, I suppose it must be."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean on my account," said Will. "I'll undertake to eat my +dinner, sir, at any hour that you'll undertake to give it me. If +there's a strong point about me at all, it is my appetite."</p> + +<p>Clara, when she went to her father's room that evening, told him what +Mr. Belton had said about the shooting, knowing that her father's +feelings would agree with those which had been expressed by her +cousin. Mr. Amedroz of course made this an occasion for further +grumbling, suggesting that Belton wanted to get the shooting for +himself as he had got the farm. But, nevertheless, the effect which +Clara had intended was produced, and before she left him he had +absolutely proposed that the shooting and the land should go +together.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure that Mr. Belton doesn't mean that at all," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I don't care what he means," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"And it wouldn't do to treat Colonel Askerton in that way," said +Clara.</p> + +<p>"I shall treat him just as I like," said the squire.</p> + + +<p><a name="c4" id="c4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> +<h4>SAFE AGAINST LOVE-MAKING.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>A dear cousin, and safe against love-making! This was Clara's verdict +respecting Will Belton, as she lay thinking of him in bed that night. +Why that warranty against love-making should be a virtue in her eyes +I cannot, perhaps, explain. But all young ladies are apt to talk to +themselves in such phrases about gentlemen with whom they are thrown +into chance intimacy;—as though love-making were in itself a thing +injurious and antagonistic to happiness, instead of being, as it is, +the very salt of life. Safe against love-making! And yet Mrs. +Askerton, her friend, had spoken of the probability of such +love-making as being the great advantage of his coming. And there +could not be a second opinion as to the expediency of a match between +her and her cousin in a worldly point of view. Clara, moreover, had +already perceived that he was a man fit to guide a wife, very +good-humoured,—and good-tempered also, anxious to give pleasure to +others, a man of energy and forethought, who would be sure to do well +in the world and hold his head always high among his fellows;—as +good a husband as a girl could have. Nevertheless, she congratulated +herself in that she felt satisfied that he was safe against +love-making! Might it be possible that that pressing of hands at +Taunton had been so tender, and those last words spoken with Captain +Aylmer so soft, that on his account she felt delighted to think that +her cousin was warranted not to make love?</p> + +<p>And what did Will Belton think about his cousin, insured as he was +thus supposed to be against the dangers of love? He, also, lay awake +for awhile that night, thinking over this new friendship. Or rather +he thought of it walking about his room, and looking out at the +bright harvest moon;—for with him to be in bed was to be asleep. He +sat himself down, and he walked about, and he leaned out of the +window into the cool night air; and he made some comparisons in his +mind, and certain calculations; and he thought of his present home, +and of his sister, and of his future prospects as they were concerned +with the old place at which he was now staying; and he portrayed to +himself, in his mind, Clara's head and face and figure and feet;—and +he resolved that she should be his wife. He had never seen a girl who +seemed to suit him so well. Though he had only been with her for a +day, he swore to himself that he knew he could love her. Nay;—he +swore to himself that he did love her. Then,—when he had quite made +up his mind, he tumbled into his bed and was asleep in five minutes.</p> + +<p>Miss Amedroz was a handsome young woman, tall, well-made, active, and +full of health. She carried herself as though she thought her limbs +were made for use, and not simply for ease upon a sofa. Her head and +neck stood well upon her shoulders, and her waist showed none of +those waspish proportions of which ladies used to be more proud than +I believe them to be now, in their more advanced state of knowledge +and taste. There was much about her in which she was like her cousin, +as though the blood they had in common between them had given to both +the same proportions and the same comeliness. Her hair was of a dark +brown colour, as was his. Her eyes were somewhat darker than his, and +perhaps not so full of constant movement; but they were equally +bright, and possessed that quick power of expressing tenderness which +belonged to them. Her nose was more finely cut, as was also her chin, +and the oval of her face; but she had the same large expressive +mouth, and the same perfection of ivory-white teeth. As has been said +before, Clara Amedroz, who was now nearly twenty-six years of age, +was not a young-looking young woman. To the eyes of many men that +would have been her fault; but in the eyes of Belton it was no fault. +He had not made himself fastidious as to women by much consort with +them, and he was disposed to think that she who was to become his +wife had better be something more than a girl not long since taken +out of the nursery. He was well to do in the world, and could send +his wife out in her carriage, with all becoming bravery of +appurtenances. And he would do so, too, when he should have a wife. +But still he would look to his wife to be a useful partner to him. +She should be a woman not above agricultural solicitude, or too proud +to have a care for her cows. Clara, he was sure, had no false pride; +and yet,—as he was sure also, she was at every point such a lady as +would do honour to the carriage and the bravery when it should be +forthcoming. And then such a marriage as this would put an end to all +the trouble which he felt in reference to the entail on the estate. +He knew that he was to be master of Belton, and of course had, in +that knowledge, the satisfaction which men do feel from the +consciousness of their future prosperity. And this with him was +enhanced by a strong sympathy with old-fashioned prejudices as to +family. He would be Belton of Belton; and there had been Beltons of +Belton in old days, for a longer time backwards than he was able to +count. But still the prospect had not been without its alloy, and he +had felt real distress at the idea of turning his cousin out of her +father's house. Such a marriage as that he now contemplated would put +all these things right.</p> + +<p>When he got up in the morning he was quite as keen about it as he had +been on the previous evening;—and as he thought about it the more, +he became keener and still more keen. On the previous evening, as he +was leaning out of the window endeavouring to settle in his own mind +what would be the proper conduct of the romance of the thing, he had +considered that he had better not make his proposal quite at once. He +was to remain eight days at Belton, and as eight days was not a long +period of acquaintance, he had reflected that it might be well for +him to lay what foundation for love it might be in his power to +construct during his present sojourn, and then return and complete +the work before Christmas. But as he was shaving himself, the +habitual impatience of his nature predominated, and he became +disposed to think that delay would be useless, and might perhaps be +dangerous. It might be possible that Clara would be unable to give +him a decisive answer so quickly as to enable him to return home an +accepted lover; but if such doubt were left, such doubt would give +him an excuse for a speedy return to Belton. He did not omit to tell +himself that very probably he might not succeed at all. He was a man +not at all apt to feel assurance that he could carry all before him +in love. But in this matter, as in all others which required from him +any personal effort, he prepared himself to do his best, leaving the +consequences to follow as they might. When he threw his seed corn +into the earth with all such due appliances of agricultural skill and +industry as his capital and experience enabled him to use, he did his +part towards the production of next year's crop; and after that he +must leave it to a higher Power to give to him, or to withhold from +him, the reward of his labour. He had found that, as a rule, the +reward had been given when the labour had been honest; and he was now +prepared to follow the same plan, with the same hopes, in this matter +of his love-making.</p> + +<p>After much consideration,—very much consideration, a consideration +which took him the whole time that he was brushing his hair and +washing his teeth,—he resolved that he would, in the first instance, +speak to Mr. Amedroz. Not that he intended that the father should win +the daughter for him. He had an idea that he would like to do that +work for himself. But he thought that the old squire would be better +pleased if his consent were asked in the first instance. The present +day was Sunday, and he would not speak on the subject till Monday. +This day he would devote to the work of securing his future +father-in-law's good opinion; to that,—and to his prayers.</p> + +<p>And he had gained very much upon Mr. Amedroz before the evening of +the day was over. He was a man before whom difficulties seemed to +yield, and who had his own way simply because he had become +accustomed to ask for it,—to ask for it and to work for it. He had +so softened the squire's tone of thought towards him, that the future +stocking of the land was spoken of between them with something like +energy on both sides; and Mr. Amedroz had given his consent, without +any difficulty, to the building of a shed for winter stall-feeding. +Clara sat by listening, and perceived that Will Belton would soon be +allowed to do just what he pleased with the place. Her father talked +as she had not heard him talk since her poor brother's death, and was +quite animated on the subject of woodcraft. "We don't know much about +timber down where I am," said Will, "just because we've got no +trees."</p> + +<p>"I'll show you your way," said the old man. "I've managed the timber +on the estate myself for the last forty years." Will Belton of course +did not say a word as to the gross mismanagement which had been +apparent even to him. What a cousin he was! Clara thought,—what a +paragon among cousins! And then he was so manifestly safe against +love-making! So safe, that he only cared to talk about timber, and +oxen, and fences, and winter-forage! But it was all just as it ought +to be; and if her father did not call him Will before long, she +herself would set the way by doing so first. A very paragon among +cousins!</p> + +<p>"What a flatterer you are," she said to him that night.</p> + +<p>"A flatterer! I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you. You have flattered papa out of all his animosity already. +I shall be jealous soon; for he'll think more of you than of me."</p> + +<p>"I hope he'll come to think of us as being nearly equally near to +him," said Belton, with a tone that was half serious and half tender. +Now that he had made up his mind, he could not keep his hand from the +work before him an instant. But Clara had also made up her mind, and +would not be made to think that her cousin could mean anything that +was more than cousinly.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word," she said, laughing, "that is very cool on your part."</p> + +<p>"I came here determined to be friends with him at any rate."</p> + +<p>"And you did so without any thought of me. But you said you would be +my brother, and I shall not forget your promise. Indeed, indeed, I +cannot tell you how glad I am that you have come,—both for papa's +sake and my own. You have done him so much good that I only dread to +think that you are going so soon."</p> + +<p>"I'll be back before long. I think nothing of running across here +from Norfolk. You'll see enough of me before next summer."</p> + +<p>Soon after breakfast on the next morning he got Mr. Amedroz out into +the grounds, on the plea of showing him the proposed site for the +cattle shed; but not a word was said about the shed on that occasion. +He went to work at his other task at once, and when that was well on +hand the squire was quite unfitted for the consideration of any less +important matter, however able to discuss it Belton might have been +himself.</p> + +<p>"I've got something particular that I want to say to you, sir," +Belton began.</p> + +<p>Now Mr. Amedroz was of opinion that his cousin had been saying +something very particular ever since his arrival, and was rather +frightened at this immediate prospect of a new subject.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing wrong; is there?"</p> + +<p>"No, nothing wrong;—at least, I hope it's not wrong. Would not it be +a good plan, sir, if I were to marry my cousin Clara?"</p> + +<p>What a terrible young man! Mr. Amedroz felt that his breath was so +completely taken away from him that he was quite unable to speak a +word of answer at the moment. Indeed, he was unable to move, and +stood still, where he had been fixed by the cruel suddenness of the +proposition made to him.</p> + +<p>"Of course I know nothing of what she may think about it," continued +Belton. "I thought it best to come to you before I spoke a word to +her. And I know that in many ways she is above me. She is better +educated, and reads more, and all that sort of thing. And it may be +that she'd rather marry a London man than a fellow who passes all his +time in the country. But she couldn't get one who would love her +better or treat her more kindly. And then as to the property; you +must own it would be a good arrangement. You'd like to know it would +go to your own child and your own grandchild;—wouldn't you, sir? And +I'm not badly off, without looking to this place at all, and could +give her everything she wants. But then I don't know that she'd care +to marry a farmer." These last words he said in a melancholy tone, as +though aware that he was confessing his own disgrace.</p> + +<p>The squire had listened to it all, and had not as yet said a word. +And now, when Belton ceased, he did not know what word to speak. He +was a man whose thoughts about women were chivalrous, and perhaps a +little old-fashioned. Of course, when a man contemplates marriage, he +could do nothing better, nothing more honourable, than consult the +lady's father in the first instance. But he felt that even a father +should be addressed on such a subject with great delicacy. There +should be ambages in such a matter. The man who resolved to commit +himself to such a task should come forward with apparent +difficulty,—with great diffidence, and even with actual difficulty. +He should keep himself almost hidden, as behind a mask, and should +tell of his own ambition with doubtful, quivering voice. And the +ambages should take time. He should approach the citadel to be taken +with covered ways,—working his way slowly and painfully. But this +young man, before he had been in the house three days, said all that +he had to say without the slightest quaver in his voice, and +evidently expected to get an answer about the squire's daughter as +quickly as he had got it about the squire's land.</p> + +<p>"You have surprised me very much," said the old man at last, drawing +his breath.</p> + +<p>"I'm quite in earnest about it. Clara seems to me to be the very girl +to make a good wife to such a one as I am. She's got everything that +a woman ought to have;—by George she has!"</p> + +<p>"She is a good girl, Mr. Belton."</p> + +<p>"She is as good as gold, every inch of her."</p> + +<p>"But you have not known her very long, Mr. Belton."</p> + +<p>"Quite long enough for my purposes. You see I knew all about her +beforehand,—who she is, and where she comes from. There's a great +deal in that, you know."</p> + +<p>Mr. Amedroz shuddered at the expressions used. It was grievous to him +to hear his daughter spoken of as one respecting whom some one knew +who she was and whence she came. Such knowledge respecting the +daughter of such a family was, as a matter of course, common to all +polite persons. "Yes," said Mr. Amedroz, stiffly: "you know as much +as that about her, certainly."</p> + +<p>"And she knows as much about me. Now the question is, whether you +have any objection to make?"</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. Belton, you have taken me so much by surprise that I do +not feel myself competent to answer you at once."</p> + +<p>"Shall we say in an hour's time, sir?" An hour's time! Mr. Amedroz, +if he could have been left to his own guidance, would have thought a +month very little for such a work.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you would wish me to see Clara first," said Mr. Amedroz.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no. I would much rather ask her myself;—if only I could +get your consent to my doing so."</p> + +<p>"And you have said nothing to her?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that. You would have behaved badly, I think, had you +done so while staying under my roof."</p> + +<p>"I thought it best, at any rate, to come to you first. But as I must +be back at Plaistow on this day week, I haven't much time to lose. So +if you could think about it this afternoon, you +<span class="nowrap">know—"</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Amedroz, much bewildered, promised that he would do his best, and +eventually did bring himself to give an answer on the next morning. +"I have been thinking about this all night," said Mr. Amedroz.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you," said Belton, feeling rather +ashamed of his own remissness as he remembered how soundly he had +himself slept.</p> + +<p>"If you are quite sure of yourself—"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean sure of loving her? I am as sure of that as anything."</p> + +<p>"But men are so apt to change their fancies."</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about my fancies; but I don't often change my +purpose when I'm in earnest. In such a matter as this I couldn't +change. I'll say as much as that for myself, though it may seem +bold."</p> + +<p>"Of course, in regard to money such a marriage would be advantageous +to my child. I don't know whether you know it, but I shall have +nothing to give her—literally nothing."</p> + +<p>"All the better, sir, as far as I am concerned. I'm not one who wants +to be saved from working by a wife's fortune."</p> + +<p>"But most men like to get something when they marry."</p> + +<p>"I want to get nothing;—nothing, that is, in the way of money. If +Clara becomes my wife I'll never ask you for one shilling."</p> + +<p>"I hope her aunt will do something for her." This the old man said in +a wailing voice, as though the expression of such a hope was grievous +to him.</p> + +<p>"If she becomes my wife, Mrs. Winterfield will be quite at liberty to +leave her money elsewhere." There were old causes of dislike between +Mr. Belton and Mrs. Winterfield, and even now Mrs. Winterfield was +almost offended because Mr. Belton was staying at Belton Castle.</p> + +<p>"But all that is quite uncertain," continued Mr. Amedroz.</p> + +<p>"And I have your leave to speak to Clara myself?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Belton; yes; I think so. I do not see why you should not +speak to her. But I fear you are a little too precipitate. Clara has +known you so very short a time, that you can hardly have a right to +hope that she should learn to regard you at once as you would have +her do." As he heard this, Belton's face became long and melancholy. +He had taught himself to think that he could dispense with that delay +till Christmas which he had at first proposed to himself, and that he +might walk into the arena at once, and perhaps win the battle in the +first round. "Three days is such a very short time," said the squire.</p> + +<p>"It is short certainly," said Belton.</p> + +<p>The father's leave was however given, and armed with that, Belton was +resolved that he would take, at any rate, some preliminary steps in +love-making before he returned to Plaistow. What would be the nature +of the preliminary steps taken by such a one as him, the reader by +this time will probably be able to surmise.</p> + + +<p><a name="c5" id="c5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> +<h4>NOT SAFE AGAINST LOVE-MAKING.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>"Why don't you call him Will?" Clara said to her father. This +question was asked on the evening of that Monday on which Mr. Amedroz +had given his consent as to the marriage proposal.</p> + +<p>"Call him Will! Why should I?"</p> + +<p>"You used to do so, when he was a boy."</p> + +<p>"Of course I did; but that is years ago. He would think it +impertinent now."</p> + +<p>"Indeed he would not; he would like it. He has told me so. It sounds +so cold to him to be called Mr. Belton by his relations."</p> + +<p>The father looked at his daughter as though for a moment he almost +suspected that matters had really been arranged between her and her +future lover without his concurrence, and before his sanction had +been obtained. But if for a moment such a thought did cross his mind, +it did not dwell there. He trusted Belton; but as to his daughter, he +knew that he might be sure of her. It would be impossible with her to +keep such a secret from him, even for half a day. And yet, how odd it +was! Here was a man who in three days had fallen in love with his +daughter; and here was his daughter apparently quite as ready to be +in love with the man. How could she, who was ordinarily circumspect, +and almost cold in her demeanour towards strangers—who was from +circumstances and from her own disposition altogether hostile to +flirting intimacies—how could his Clara have changed her nature so +speedily? The squire did not understand it, but was prepared to +believe that it was all for the best. "I'll call him Will, if you +like it," said he.</p> + +<p>"Do, papa, and then I can do so also. He is such a good fellow, and I +am so fond of him."</p> + +<p>On the next morning Mr. Amedroz did, with much awkwardness, call his +guest by his Christian name. Clara caught her cousin's eye and +smiled, and he also smiled. At that moment he was more in love than +ever. Could anything be more charming than this? Immediately after +breakfast he was going over to Redicote, to see a builder in a small +way who lived there, and whom he proposed to employ in putting up the +shed for the cattle; but he almost begrudged the time, so anxious was +he to begin his suit. But his plan had been laid out and he would +follow it. "I think I shall be back by three o'clock," he said to +Clara, "and then we'll have our walk."</p> + +<p>"I'll be ready; and you can call for me at Mrs. Askerton's. I must go +down there, and it will save you something in your walk to pick me up +at the cottage." And so the arrangements for the day were made.</p> + +<p>Clara had promised that she would soon call at the cottage, and was, +indeed, rather anxious to see Mrs. Askerton on her own account. What +she had heard from her cousin as to a certain Miss Vigo of old days +had interested her, and also what she had heard of a certain Mr. +Berdmore. It had been evident to her that her cousin had thought +little about it. The likeness of the lady he then saw to the lady he +had before known, had at first struck him; but when he found that the +two ladies were not represented by one and the same person, he was +satisfied, and there was an end of the matter for him. But it was not +so with Clara. Her feminine mind dwelt on the matter with more +earnestness than he had cared to entertain, and her clearer intellect +saw possibilities which did not occur to him. But it was not till she +found herself walking across the park to the cottage that she +remembered that any inquiries as to her past life might be +disagreeable to Mrs. Askerton. She had thought of asking her friend +plainly whether the names of Vigo and Berdmore had ever been familiar +to her; but she reminded herself that there had been rumours afloat, +and that there might be a mystery. Mrs. Askerton would sometimes talk +of her early life; but she would do this with dreamy, indistinct +language, speaking of the sorrows of her girlhood, but not specifying +their exact nature, seldom mentioning any names, and never referring +with clear personality to those who had been nearest to her when she +had been a child. Clara had seen her friend's maiden name, Mary +Oliphant, written in a book, and seeing it had alluded to it. On that +occasion Mrs. Askerton had spoken of herself as having been an +Oliphant, and thus Clara had come to know the fact. But now, as she +made her way to the cottage, she remembered that she had learned +nothing more than this as to Mrs. Askerton's early life. Such being +the case, she hardly knew how to ask any question about the two names +that had been mentioned. And yet, why should she not ask such a +question? Why should she doubt Mrs. Askerton? And if she did doubt, +why should not her doubts be solved?</p> + +<p>She found Colonel Askerton and his wife together, and she certainly +would ask no such question in his presence. He was a slight built, +wiry man, about fifty, with iron-grey hair and beard,—who seemed to +have no trouble in life, and to desire but few pleasures. Nothing +could be more regular than the course of his days, and nothing more +idle. He breakfasted at eleven, smoked and read till the afternoon, +when he rode for an hour or two; then he dined, read again, smoked +again, and went to bed. In September and October he shot, and twice +in the year, as has been before stated, went away to seek a little +excitement elsewhere. He seemed to be quite contented with his lot, +and was never heard to speak an angry word to any one. Nobody cared +for him much; but then he troubled himself with no one's affairs. He +never went to church, and had not eaten or drank in any house but his +own since he had come to Belton.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Clara, you naughty girl," said Mrs. Askerton, "why didn't you +come yesterday? I was expecting you all day."</p> + +<p>"I was busy. Really, we've grown to be quite industrious people since +my cousin came."</p> + +<p>"They tell me he's taking the land into his own hands," said the +Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed; and he is going to build sheds, and buy cattle; and I +don't know what he doesn't mean to do; so that we shall be alive +again."</p> + +<p>"I hope he won't want my shooting."</p> + +<p>"He has shooting of his own in Norfolk," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Then he'll hardly care to come here for that purpose. When I heard +of his proceedings I began to be afraid."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he would do anything to annoy you for the world," said +Clara, enthusiastically. "He's the most unselfish person I ever met."</p> + +<p>"He'd have a perfect right to take the shooting if he liked it,—that +is always supposing that he and your father agreed about it."</p> + +<p>"They agree about everything now. He has altogether disarmed papa's +prejudices, and it seems to be recognised that he is to have his own +way about the place. But I don't think he'll interfere about the +shooting."</p> + +<p>"He won't, my dear, if you ask him not," said Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>"I'll ask him in a moment if Colonel Askerton wishes it."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no," said he. "It would be teaching the ostler to grease the +horse's teeth. Perhaps he hasn't thought of it."</p> + +<p>"He thinks of everything," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether he's thinking +<span class="nowrap">of—"</span> So far +Mrs. Askerton spoke, and +then she paused. Colonel Askerton looked up at Clara with an +ill-natured smile, and Clara felt that she blushed. Was it not cruel +that she could not say a word in favour of a friend and a cousin,—a +cousin who had promised to be a brother to her, without being treated +with such words and such looks as these? But she was determined not +to be put down. "I'm quite sure of this," she said, "that my cousin +would do nothing unfair or ungentlemanlike."</p> + +<p>"There would be nothing unfair or ungentlemanlike in it. I shouldn't +take it amiss at all;—but I should simply take up my bed and walk. +Pray tell him that I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing him +before he goes. I did call yesterday, but he was out."</p> + +<p>"He'll be here soon. He's to come here for me." But Colonel +Askerton's horse was brought to the door, and he could not therefore +wait to make Mr. Belton's acquaintance on that occasion.</p> + +<p>"What a phœnix this cousin of yours is," said Mrs. Askerton, as +soon as her husband was gone.</p> + +<p>"He is a splendid fellow;—he is indeed. There's so much life about +him! He's always doing something. He says that doing good will always +pay in the long run. Isn't that a fine doctrine?"</p> + +<p>"Quite a practical phœnix!"</p> + +<p>"It has done papa so much good! At this moment he's out somewhere, +thinking of what is going on, instead of moping in the house. He +couldn't bear the idea of Will's coming, and now he is already +beginning to complain because he's going away."</p> + +<p>"Will, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"And why not Will? He's my cousin."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—ten times removed. But so much the better if he's to be +anything more than a cousin."</p> + +<p>"He is to be nothing more, Mrs. Askerton."</p> + +<p>"You're quite sure of that?"</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure of it. And I cannot understand why there should be +such a suspicion because he and I are thrown closely together, and +are fond of each other. Whether he is a sixth, eighth, or tenth +cousin makes no difference. He is the nearest I have on that side; +and since my poor brother's death he is papa's heir. It is so natural +that he should be my friend;—and such a comfort that he should be +such a friend as he is! I own it seems cruel to me that under such +circumstances there should be any suspicion."</p> + +<p>"Suspicion, my dear;—suspicion of what?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I care for it. I am prepared to love him as if he were my +brother. I think him one of the finest creatures I ever +knew,—perhaps the finest I ever did know. His energy and good-nature +together are just the qualities to make the best kind of man. I am +proud of him as my friend and my cousin, and now you may suspect what +you please."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, why should not he fall in love with you? It would be +the most proper, and also the most convenient thing in the world."</p> + +<p>"I hate talking of falling in love;—as though a woman has nothing +else to think of whenever she sees a man."</p> + +<p>"A woman has nothing else to think of."</p> + +<p>"I have,—a great deal else. And so has he."</p> + +<p>"It's quite out of the question on his part, then?"</p> + +<p>"Quite out of the question. I'm sure he likes me. I can see it in his +face, and hear it in his voice, and am so happy that it is so. But it +isn't in the way that you mean. Heaven knows that I may want a friend +some of these days, and I feel that I may trust to him. His feelings +to me will be always those of a brother."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so. I have seen that fraternal love before under similar +circumstances, and it has always ended in the same way."</p> + +<p>"I hope it won't end in any way between us."</p> + +<p>"But the joke is that this suspicion, as you call it,—which makes +you so indignant,—is simply a suggestion that a thing should happen +which, of all things in the world, would be the best for both of +you."</p> + +<p>"But the thing won't happen, and therefore let there be an end of it. +I hate the twaddle talk of love, whether it's about myself or about +any one else. It makes me feel ashamed of my sex, when I find that I +cannot talk of myself to another woman without being supposed to be +either in love or thinking of love,—either looking for it or +avoiding it. When it comes, if it comes prosperously, it's a very +good thing. But I for one can do without it, and I feel myself +injured when such a state of things is presumed to be impossible."</p> + +<p>"It is worth any one's while to irritate you, because your +indignation is so beautiful."</p> + +<p>"It is not beautiful to me; for I always feel ashamed afterwards of +my own energy. And now, if you please, we won't say anything more +about Mr. Will Belton."</p> + +<p>"May I not talk about him, even as the enterprising cousin?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; and in any other light you please. Do you know he seemed +to think that he had known you ever so many years ago." Clara, as she +said this, did not look direct at her friend's face; but still she +could perceive that Mrs. Askerton was disconcerted. There came a +shade of paleness over her face, and a look of trouble on her brow, +and for a moment or two she made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Did he?" she then said. "And when was that?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it was in London. But, after all, I believe it was not +you, but somebody whom he remembers to have been like you. He says +that the lady was a Miss Vigo." As she pronounced the name, Clara +turned her face away, feeling instinctively that it would be kind to +do so.</p> + +<p>"Miss Vigo!" said Mrs. Askerton at once; and there was that in the +tone of her voice which made Clara feel that all was not right with +her. "I remember that there were Miss Vigos; two of them, I think. I +didn't know that they were like me especially."</p> + +<p>"And he says that the one he remembers married a Mr. Berdmore."</p> + +<p>"Married a Mr. Berdmore!" The tone of voice was still the same, and +there was an evident struggle, as though the woman was making a +vehement effort to speak in her natural voice. Then Clara looked at +her, feeling that if she abstained from doing so, the very fact of +her so abstaining would be remarkable. There was the look of pain on +Mrs. Askerton's brow, and her cheeks were still pale, but she smiled +as she went on speaking. "I'm sure I'm flattered, for I remember that +they were both considered beauties. Did he know anything more of +her?"</p> + +<p>"No; nothing more."</p> + +<p>"There must have been some casual likeness I suppose." Mrs. Askerton +was a clever woman, and had by this time almost recovered her +self-possession. Then there came a ring at the front door, and in +another minute Mr. Belton was in the room. Mrs. Askerton felt that it +was imperative on her to make some allusion to the conversation which +had just taken place, and dashed at the subject at once. "Clara tells +me that I am exactly like some old friend of yours, Mr. Belton."</p> + +<p>Then he looked at her closely as he answered her. "I have no right to +say that she was my friend, Mrs. Askerton," he said; "indeed there +was hardly what might be called an acquaintance between us; but you +certainly are extremely like a certain Miss Vigo that I remember."</p> + +<p>"I often wonder that one person isn't more often found to be like +another," said Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>"People often are like," said he; "but not like in such a way as to +give rise to mistakes as to identity. Now, I should have stopped you +in the street and called you Mrs. Berdmore."</p> + +<p>"Didn't I once see or hear the name of Berdmore in this house?" asked +Clara.</p> + +<p>Then that look of pain returned. Mrs. Askerton had succeeded in +recovering the usual tone of her countenance, but now she was once +more disturbed. "I think I know the name," said she.</p> + +<p>"I fancy that I have seen it in this house," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"You may more likely have heard it, my dear. My memory is very poor, +but if I remember rightly, Colonel Askerton did know a Captain +Berdmore,—a long while ago, before he was married; and you may +probably have heard him mention the name." This did not quite satisfy +Clara, but she said nothing more about it then. If there was a +mystery which Mrs. Askerton did not wish to have explored, why should +she explore it?</p> + +<p>Soon after this Clara got up to go, and Mrs. Askerton, making another +attempt to be cheerful, was almost successful. "So you're going back +into Norfolk on Saturday, Clara tells me. You are making a very short +visit now that you're come among us."</p> + +<p>"It is a long time for me to be away from home. Farmers can hardly +ever dare to leave their work. But in spite of my farm, I am talking +of coming here again about Christmas."</p> + +<p>"But you are going to have a farming establishment here too?"</p> + +<p>"That will be nothing. Clara will look after that for me; will you +not?" Then they went, and Belton had to consider how he would begin +the work before him. He had some idea that too much precipitancy +might do him an injury, but he hardly knew how to commence without +coming to the point at once. When they were out together in the park, +he went back at first to the subject of Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>"I would almost have sworn they were one and the same woman," he +said.</p> + +<p>"But you see that they are not."</p> + +<p>"It's not only the likeness, but the voice. It so chanced that I once +saw that Miss Vigo in some trouble. I happened to meet her in company +with a man who was,—who was tipsy, in fact, and I had to relieve +her."</p> + +<p>"Dear me,—how disagreeable!"</p> + +<p>"It's a long time ago, and there can't be any harm in mentioning it +now. It was the man she was going to marry, and whom she did marry."</p> + +<p>"What;—the Mr. Berdmore?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he was often in that way. And there was a look about Mrs. +Askerton just now so like the look of that Miss Vigo then, that I +cannot get rid of the idea."</p> + +<p>"They can't be the same, as she was certainly a Miss Oliphant. And +you hear, too, what she says."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I heard what she said. You have known her long?"</p> + +<p>"These two years."</p> + +<p>"And intimately?"</p> + +<p>"Very intimately. She is our only neighbour; and her being here has +certainly been a great comfort to me. It is sad not having some woman +near one that one can speak to;—and then, I really do like her very +much."</p> + +<p>"No doubt it's all right."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it's all right," said Clara. After that there was nothing more +said about Mrs. Askerton, and Belton began his work. They had gone +from the cottage, across the park, away from the house, up to a high +rock which stood boldly out of the ground, from whence could be seen +the sea on one side, and on the other a far tract of country almost +away to the moors. And when they reached this spot they seated +themselves. "There," said Clara, "I consider this to be the prettiest +spot in England."</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen all England," said Belton.</p> + +<p>"Don't be so matter-of-fact, Will. I say it's the prettiest in +England, and you can't contradict me."</p> + +<p>"And I say you're the prettiest girl in England, and you can't +contradict me."</p> + +<p>This annoyed Clara, and almost made her feel that her paragon of a +cousin was not quite so perfect as she had represented him to be. "I +see," she said, "that if I talk nonsense I'm to be punished."</p> + +<p>"Is it a punishment to you to know that I think you very handsome?" +he said, turning round and looking full into her face.</p> + +<p>"It is disagreeable to me—very, to have any such subject talked +about at all. What would you think if I began to pay you foolish +personal compliments?"</p> + +<p>"What I say isn't foolish; and there's a great difference. Clara, I +love you better than all the world put together."</p> + +<p>She now looked at him; but still she did not believe it. It could not +be that after all her boastings she should have made so gross a +blunder. "I hope you do love me," she said; "indeed, you are bound to +do so, for you promised that you would be my brother."</p> + +<p>"But that will not satisfy me now, Clara. Clara, I want to be your +husband."</p> + +<p>"Will!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Now you know it all; and if I have been too sudden, I must beg your +pardon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Will, forget that you have said this. Do not go on until +everything must be over between us."</p> + +<p>"Why should anything be over between us? Why should it be wrong in me +to love you?"</p> + +<p>"What will papa say?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Amedroz knows all about it already, and has given me his +consent. I asked him directly I had made up my own mind, and he told +me that I might go to you."</p> + +<p>"You have asked papa? Oh dear, oh dear, what am I to do?"</p> + +<p>"Am I so odious to you then?" As he said this he got up from his seat +and stood before her. He was a tall, well-built, handsome man, and he +could assume a look and mien that were almost noble when he was moved +as he was moved now.</p> + +<p>"Odious! Do you not know that I have loved you as my cousin—that I +have already learned to trust you as though you were really my +brother? But this breaks it all."</p> + +<p>"You cannot love me then as my wife?"</p> + +<p>"No." She pronounced the monosyllable alone, and then he walked away +from her as though that one little word settled the question for him, +now and for ever. He walked away from her, perhaps a distance of two +hundred yards, as though the interview was over, and he were leaving +her. She, as she saw him go, wished that he would return that she +might say some word of comfort to him. Not that she could have said +the only word that would have comforted him. At the first blush of +the thing, at the first sound of the address which he had made to +her, she had been angry with him. He had disappointed her, and she +was indignant. But her anger had already melted and turned itself to +ruth. She could not but love him better, in that he had loved her so +well; but yet she could not love him with the love which he desired.</p> + +<p>But he did not leave her. When he had gone from her down the hill the +distance that has been named, he turned back, and came up to her +slowly. He had a trick of standing and walking with his thumbs fixed +into the armholes of his waistcoat, while his large hands rested on +his breast. He would always assume this attitude when he was assured +that he was right in his views, and was eager to carry some point at +issue. Clara already understood that this attitude signified his +intention to be autocratic. He now came close up to her, and again +stood over her, before he spoke. "My dear," he said, "I have been +rough and hasty in what I have said to you, and I have to ask you to +pardon my want of manners."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"But in a matter of so much interest to us both you will not let an +awkward manner prejudice me."</p> + +<p>"It is not that; indeed, it is not."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, dearest. It is true that I promised to be your +brother, and I will not break my word unless I break it by your own +sanction. I did promise to be your brother, but I did not know then +how fondly I should come to love you. Your father, when I told him of +this, bade me not to be hasty; but I am hasty, and I haven't known +how to wait. Tell me that I may come at Christmas for my answer, and +I will not say a word to trouble you till then. I will be your +brother, at any rate till Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Be my brother always."</p> + +<p>A black cloud crossed his brow as this request reached his ears. She +was looking anxiously into his face, watching every turn in the +expression of his countenance. "Will you not let it wait till +Christmas?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She thought it would be cruel to refuse this request, and yet she +knew that no such waiting could be of service to him. He had been +awkward in his love-making, and was aware of it. He should have +contrived this period of waiting for himself; giving her no option +but to wait and think of it. He should have made no proposal, but +have left her certain that such proposal was coming. In such case she +must have waited—and if good could have come to him from that, he +might have received it. But, as the question was now presented to +her, it was impossible that she should consent to wait. To have given +such consent would have been tantamount to receiving him as her +lover. She was therefore forced to be cruel.</p> + +<p>"It will be of no avail to postpone my answer when I know what it +must be. Why should there be suspense?"</p> + +<p>"You mean that it is impossible that you should love me?"</p> + +<p>"Not in that way, Will."</p> + +<p>"And why not?" Then there was a pause. "But I am a fool to ask such a +question as that, and I should be worse than a fool were I to press +it. It must then be considered as settled?"</p> + +<p>She got up and clung to his arm. "Oh, Will, do not look at me like +that!"</p> + +<p>"It must then be considered as settled?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Will, yes. Pray consider it as settled." He then sat down on +the rock again, and she came and sat by him,—near to him, but not +close as she had been before. She turned her eyes upon him, gazing on +him, but did not speak to him; and he sat also without speaking for a +while, with his eyes fixed upon the ground. "I suppose we may go back +to the house?" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"Give me your hand, Will, and tell me that you will still love me—as +your sister."</p> + +<p>He gave her his hand. "If you ever want a brother's care you shall +have it from me," he said.</p> + +<p>"But not a brother's love?"</p> + +<p>"No. How can the two go together? I shan't cease to love you because +my love is in vain. Instead of making me happy it will make me +wretched. That will be the only difference."</p> + +<p>"I would give my life to make you happy, if that were possible."</p> + +<p>"You will not give me your life in the way that I would have it." +After that they walked in silence back to the house, and when he had +opened the front door for her, he parted from her and stood alone +under the porch, thinking of his misfortune.</p> + + +<p><a name="c6" id="c6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> +<h4>SAFE AGAINST LOVE-MAKING ONCE AGAIN.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>For a considerable time Belton stood under the porch of the house, +thinking of what had happened to him, and endeavouring to steady +himself under the blow which he had received. I do not know that he +had been sanguine of success. Probably he had made to himself no +assurances on the subject. But he was a man to whom failure, of +itself, was intolerable. In any other event of life he would have +told himself that he would not fail—that he would persevere and +conquer. He could imagine no other position as to which he could at +once have been assured of failure, in any project on which he had set +his heart. But as to this project it was so. He had been told that +she could not love him—that she could never love him;—and he had +believed her. He had made his attempt and had failed; and, as he +thought of this, standing under the porch, he became convinced that +life for him was altogether changed, and that he who had been so +happy must now be a wretched man.</p> + +<p>He was still standing there when Mr. Amedroz came down into the hall, +dressed for dinner, and saw his figure through the open doors. +"Will," he said, coming up to him, "it only wants five minutes to +dinner." Belton started and shook himself, as though he were shaking +off a lethargy, and declared that he was quite ready. Then he +remembered that he would be expected to dress, and rushed up-stairs, +three steps at a time, to his own room. When he came down, Clara and +her father were already in the dining-room, and he joined them there.</p> + +<p>Mr. Amedroz, though he was not very quick in reading facts from the +manners of those with whom he lived, had felt assured that things had +gone wrong between Belton and his daughter. He had not as yet had a +minute in which to speak to Clara, but he was certain that it was so. +Indeed, it was impossible not to read terrible disappointment and +deep grief in the young man's manner. He made no attempt to conceal +it, though he did not speak of it. Through the whole evening, though +he was alone for a while with the squire, and alone also for a time +with Clara, he never mentioned or alluded to the subject of his +rejection. But he bore himself as though he knew and they knew—as +though all the world knew that he had been rejected. And yet he did +not remain silent. He talked of his property and of his plans, and +explained how things were to be done in his absence. Once only was +there something like an allusion made to his sorrow. "But you will be +here at Christmas?" said Mr. Amedroz, in answer to something which +Belton had said as to work to be done in his absence. "I do not know +how that may be now," said Belton. And then they had all been silent.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible evening to Clara. She endeavoured to talk, but +found it to be impossible. All the brightness of the last few days +had disappeared, and the world seemed to her to be more sad and +solemn than ever. She had no idea when she was refusing him that he +would have taken it to heart as he had done. The question had come +before her for decision so suddenly, that she had not, in fact, had +time to think of this as she was making her answer. All she had done +was to feel that she could not be to him what he wished her to be. +And even as yet she had hardly asked herself why she must be so +steadfast in her refusal. But she had refused him steadfastly, and +she did not for a moment think of reducing the earnestness of her +resolution. It seemed to be manifest to her, from his present manner, +that he would never ask the question again; but she was sure, let it +be asked ever so often, that it could not be answered in any other +way.</p> + +<p>Mr. Amedroz, not knowing why it was so, became cross and querulous, +and scolded his daughter. To Belton, also, he was captious, making +little difficulties, and answering him with petulance. This the +rejected lover took with most extreme patience, as though such a +trifling annoyance had no effect in adding anything to his misery. He +still held his purpose of going on the Saturday, and was still intent +on work which was to be done before he went; but it seemed that he +was satisfied to do everything now as a duty, and that the enjoyment +of the thing, which had heretofore been so conspicuous, was over.</p> + +<p>At last they separated, and Clara, as was her wont, went up to her +father's room. "Papa," she said, "what is all this about Mr. Belton?"</p> + +<p>"All what, my dear? what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"He has asked me to be,—to be his wife; and has told me that he came +with your consent."</p> + +<p>"And why shouldn't he have my consent? What is there amiss with him? +Why shouldn't you marry him if he likes you? You seemed, I thought, +to be very fond of him."</p> + +<p>This surprised Clara more than anything. She could hardly have told +herself why, but she would have thought that such a proposition from +her cousin would have made her father angry,—unreasonably +angry;—angry with him for presuming to have such an idea; but now it +seemed that he was going to be angry with her for not accepting her +cousin out of hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa; I am fond of him; but not like that. I did not expect +that he would think of me in that way."</p> + +<p>"But why shouldn't he think of you? It would be a very good marriage +for you, as far as money is concerned."</p> + +<p>"You would not have me marry any one for that reason;—would you, +papa?"</p> + +<p>"But you seemed to like him. Well; of course I can't make you like +him. I meant to do for the best; and when he came to me as he did, I +thought he was behaving very handsomely, and very much like a +gentleman."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he would do that."</p> + +<p>"And if I could have thought that this place would be your home when +I am gone, it would have made me very happy;—very happy."</p> + +<p>She now came and stood close to him and took his hand. "I hope, papa, +you do not make yourself uneasy about me. I shall do very well. I'm +sure you can't want me to go away and leave you."</p> + +<p>"How will you do very well? I'm sure I don't know. And if your aunt +Winterfield means to provide for you, it would only be kind in her to +let me know it, so that I might not have the anxiety always on my +mind."</p> + +<p>Clara knew well enough what was to be the disposition of her aunt's +property, but she could not tell her father of that now. She almost +felt that it was her duty to do so, but she could not bring herself +to do it. She could only beg him not to be anxious on her behalf, +making vague assurances that she would do very well. "And you are +determined not to change your mind about Will?" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"I shall not change my mind about that, papa, certainly," she +answered. Then he turned away from her, and she saw that he was +displeased.</p> + +<p>When alone, she was forced to ask herself why it was that she was so +certain. Alas! there could in truth be no doubt on that subject in +her own mind. When she sat down, resolved to give herself an answer, +there was no doubt. She could not love her cousin, Will Belton, +because her heart belonged to Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>But she knew that she had received nothing in exchange for her heart. +He had been kind to her on that journey to Taunton, when the agony +arising from her brother's death had almost crushed her. He had often +been kind to her on days before that,—so kind, so soft in his +manners, approaching so nearly to the little tendernesses of +incipient love-making, that the idea of regarding him as her lover +had of necessity forced itself upon her. But in nothing had he gone +beyond those tendernesses, which need not imperatively be made to +mean anything, though they do often mean so much. It was now two +years since she had first thought that Captain Aylmer was the most +perfect gentleman she knew, and nearly two years since Mrs. +Winterfield had expressed to her a hope that Captain Aylmer might +become her husband. She had replied that such a thing was +impossible,—as any girl would have replied; and had in consequence +treated Captain Aylmer with all the coolness which she had been able +to assume whenever she was in company with him in her aunt's +presence. Nor was it natural to her to be specially gracious to a man +under such trying circumstances, even when no Mrs. Winterfield was +there to behold. And so things had gone on. Captain Aylmer had now +and again made himself very pleasant to her,—at certain trying +periods of joy or trouble almost more than pleasant. But nothing had +come of it, and Clara had told herself that Captain Aylmer had no +special feeling in her favour. She had told herself this, ever since +that journey together from Perivale to Taunton; but never till now +had she also confessed to herself what was her own case.</p> + +<p>She made a comparison between the two men. Her cousin Will was, she +thought, the more generous, the more energetic,—perhaps, by nature, +the man of the higher gifts. In person he was undoubtedly the +superior. He was full of noble qualities;—forgetful of self, +industrious, full of resources, a very man of men, able to command, +eager in doing work for others' good and his own,—a man altogether +uncontaminated by the coldness and selfishness of the outer world. +But he was rough, awkward, but indifferently educated, and with few +of those tastes which to Clara Amedroz were delightful. He could not +read poetry to her, he could not tell her of what the world of +literature was doing now or of what it had done in times past. He +knew nothing of the inner world of worlds which governs the world. +She doubted whether he could have told her who composed the existing +cabinet, or have given the name of a single bishop beyond the see in +which his own parish was situated. But Captain Aylmer knew everybody, +and had read everything, and understood, as though by instinct, all +the movements of the world in which he lived.</p> + +<p>But what mattered any such comparison? Even though she should be able +to prove to herself beyond the shadow of a doubt that her cousin Will +was of the two the fitter to be loved,—the one more worthy of her +heart,—no such proof could alter her position. Love does not go by +worth. She did not love her cousin as she must love any man to whom +she could give her hand,—and, alas! she did love that other man.</p> + +<p>On this night I doubt whether Belton did slumber with that solidity +of repose which was usual to him. At any rate, before he came down in +the morning he had found time for sufficient thought, and had brought +himself to a resolution. He would not give up the battle as lost. To +his thinking there was something weak and almost mean in abandoning +any project which he had set before himself. He had been awkward, and +he exaggerated to himself his own awkwardness. He had been hasty, and +had gone about his task with inconsiderate precipitancy. It might be +that he had thus destroyed all his chance of success. But, as he said +to himself, "he would never say die, as long as there was a puff of +breath left to him." He would not mope, and hang down his head, and +wear the willow. Such a state of things would ill suit either the +roughness or the readiness of his life. No! He would bear like a man +the disappointment which had on this occasion befallen him, and would +return at Christmas and once more try his fortune.</p> + +<p>At breakfast, therefore, the cloud had passed from his brow. When he +came in he found Clara alone in the room, and he simply shook hands +with her after his ordinary fashion. He said nothing of yesterday, +and almost succeeded in looking as though yesterday had been in no +wise memorable. She was not so much at her ease, but she also +received some comfort from his demeanour. Mr. Amedroz came down +almost immediately, and Belton soon took an opportunity of saying +that he would be back at Christmas if Mr. Amedroz would receive him.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said the squire. "I thought it had been all settled."</p> + +<p>"So it was;—till I said a word yesterday which foolishly seemed to +unsettle it. But I have thought it over again, and I find that I can +manage it."</p> + +<p>"We shall be so glad to have you!" said Clara.</p> + +<p>"And I shall be equally glad to come. They are already at work, sir, +about the sheds."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I saw the carts full of bricks go by," said the squire, +querulously. "I didn't know there was to be any brickwork. You said +you would have it made of deal slabs with oak posts."</p> + +<p>"You must have a foundation, sir. I propose to carry the brickwork a +foot and a half above the ground."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know best. Only that kind of thing is so very ugly."</p> + +<p>"If you find it to be ugly after it is done, it shall be pulled down +again."</p> + +<p>"No;—it can never come down again."</p> + +<p>"It can;—and it shall, if you don't like it. I never think anything +of changes like that."</p> + +<p>"I think they'll be very pretty!" said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I dare say," said the squire; "but at any rate it won't make much +difference to me. I shan't be here long to see them."</p> + +<p>This was rather melancholy; but Belton bore up even against this, +speaking cheery words and expressing bright hopes,—so that it +seemed, both to Clara and to her father, that he had in a great +measure overcome the disappointment of the preceding day. It was +probable that he was a man not prone to be deeply sensitive in such +matters for any long period. The period now had certainly not been +long, and yet Will Belton was alive again.</p> + +<p>Immediately after breakfast there occurred a little incident which +was not without its effect upon them all. There came up on the drive, +immediately before the front door, under the custody of a boy, a cow. +It was an Alderney cow, and any man or woman at all understanding +cows, would at once have perceived that this cow was perfect in her +kind. Her eyes were mild, and soft, and bright. Her legs were like +the legs of a deer; and in her whole gait and demeanour she almost +gave the lie to her own name, asserting herself to have sprung from +some more noble origin among the woods, than may be supposed to be +the origin of the ordinary domestic cow,—a useful animal, but heavy +in its appearance, and seen with more pleasure at some little +distance than at close quarters. But this cow was graceful in its +movements, and almost tempted one to regard her as the far-off +descendant of the elk or the antelope.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" said Mr. Amedroz, who, having no cows of his own, was +not pleased to see one brought up in that way before his hall door. +"There's somebody's cow come here."</p> + +<p>Clara understood it in a moment; but she was pained, and said +nothing. Had the cow come without any such scene as that of +yesterday, she would have welcomed the animal with all cordiality, +and would have sworn to her cousin that the cow should be cherished +for his sake. But after what had passed it was different. How was she +to take any present from him now?</p> + +<p>But Belton faced the difficulty without any bashfulness or apparent +regret. "I told you I would give you a cow," said he, "and here she +is."</p> + +<p>"What can she want with a cow?" said Mr. Amedroz.</p> + +<p>"I am sure she wants one very much. At any rate she won't refuse the +present from me; will you, Clara?"</p> + +<p>What could she say? "Not if papa will allow me to keep it."</p> + +<p>"But we've no place to put it!" said the squire. "We haven't got +grass for it!"</p> + +<p>"There's plenty of grass," said Belton. "Come, Mr. Amedroz; I've made +a point of getting this little creature for Clara, and you mustn't +stand in the way of my gratification." Of course he was successful, +and of course Clara thanked him with tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>The next two days passed by without anything special to mark them, +and then the cousin was to go. During the period of his visit he did +not see Colonel Askerton, nor did he again see Mrs. Askerton. He went +to the cottage once, with the special object of returning the +Colonel's call; but the master was out, and he was not specially +invited in to see the mistress. He said nothing more to Clara about +her friends, but he thought of the matter more than once, as he was +going about the place, and became aware that he would like to +ascertain whether there was a mystery, and if so, what was its +nature. He knew that he did not like Mrs. Askerton, and he felt also +that Mrs. Askerton did not like him. This was, as he thought, +unfortunate; for might it not be the case, that in the one matter +which was to him of so much importance, Mrs. Askerton might have +considerable influence over Clara?</p> + +<p>During these days nothing special was said between him and Clara. The +last evening passed over without anything to brighten it or to make +it memorable. Mr. Amedroz, in his passive, but gently querulous way, +was sorry that Belton was going to leave him, as his cousin had been +the creation of some new excitement for him, but he said nothing on +the subject; and when the time for going to bed had come, he bade his +guest farewell with some languid allusion to the pleasure which he +would have in seeing him again at Christmas. Belton was to start very +early in the morning,—before six, and of course he was prepared to +take leave also of Clara. But she told him very gently, so gently +that her father did not hear it, that she would be up to give him a +cup of coffee before he went.</p> + +<p>"Oh no," he said.</p> + +<p>"But I shall. I won't have you go without seeing you out of the +door."</p> + +<p>And on the following morning she was up before him. She hardly +understood, herself, why she was doing this. She knew that it should +be her object to avoid any further special conversation on that +subject which they had discussed up among the rocks. She knew that +she could give him no comfort, and that he could give none to her. It +would seem that he was willing to let the remembrance of the scene +pass away, so that it should be as though it had never been; and +surely it was not for her to disturb so salutary an arrangement! But +yet she was up to bid him Godspeed as he went. She could not +bear,—so she excused the matter to herself,—she could not bear to +think that he should regard her as ungrateful. She knew all that he +had done for them. She had perceived that the taking of the land, the +building of the sheds, the life which he had contrived in so short a +time to throw into the old place, had all come from a desire on his +part to do good to those in whose way he stood by family arrangements +made almost before his birth; and she longed to say to him one word +of thanks. And had he not told her,—once in the heat of his +disappointment; for then at that moment, as Clara said to herself, +she supposed that he must have been in some measure +disappointed,—had he not even then told her that when she wanted a +brother's care, a brother's care should be given to her by him? Was +she not therefore bound to do for him what she would do for a +brother?</p> + +<p>She, with her own hands, brought the coffee into the little breakfast +parlour, and handed the cup into his hands. The gig, which had come +overnight from Taunton, was not yet at the door, and there was a +minute or two during which they must speak to each other. Who has not +seen some such girl when she has come down early, without the full +completeness of her morning toilet, and yet nicer, fresher, prettier +to the eye of him who is so favoured, than she has ever been in more +formal attire? And what man who has been so favoured has not loved +her who has so favoured him, even though he may not previously have +been enamoured as deeply as poor Will Belton?</p> + +<p>"This is so good of you," he said.</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew how to be good to you," she answered,—not meaning to +trench upon dangerous ground, but feeling, as the words came from +her, that she had done so. "You have been so good to us, so very good +to papa, that we owe you everything. I am so grateful to you for +saying that you will come back at Christmas."</p> + +<p>He had resolved that he would refrain from further love-making till +the winter; but he found it very hard to refrain when so addressed. +To take her in his arms, and kiss her twenty times, and swear that he +would never let her go,—to claim her at once savagely as his own, +that was the line of conduct to which temptation prompted him. How +could she look at him so sweetly, how could she stand before him, +ministering to him with all her pretty maidenly charms brought so +close to him, without intending that he should love her? But he did +refrain. "Blood is thicker than water," said he. "That's the real +reason why I first came."</p> + +<p>"I understand that quite, and it is that feeling that makes you so +good. But I'm afraid you are spending a great deal of money here—and +all for our sakes."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I shall get my money back again. And if I didn't, what +then? I've plenty of money. It is not money that I want."</p> + +<p>She could not ask him what it was that he did want, and she was +obliged therefore to begin again. "Papa will look forward so to the +winter now."</p> + +<p>"And so shall I."</p> + +<p>"But you must come for longer then;—you won't go away at the end of +a week? Say that you won't."</p> + +<p>"I'll see about it. I can't tell quite yet. You'll write me a line to +say when the shed is finished, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"That I will, and I'll tell you how Bessy goes on." Bessy was the +cow. "I will be so very fond of her. She'll come to me for apples +already."</p> + +<p>Belton thought that he would go to her, wherever she might be, even +if he were to get no apples. "It's all cupboard love with them," he +said. "I'll tell you what I'll do;—when I come, I'll bring you a dog +that will follow you without thinking of apples." Then the gig was +heard on the gravel before the door, and Belton was forced to go. For +a moment he reflected whether, as her cousin, it was not his duty to +kiss her. It was a matter as to which he had doubt,—as is the case +with many male cousins; but ultimately he resolved that if he kissed +her at all he would not kiss her in that light, and so he again +refrained. "Good-bye," he said, putting out his great hand to her.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Will, and God bless you." I almost think he might have +kissed her, asking himself no questions as to the light in which it +was done.</p> + +<p>As he turned from her he saw the tears in her eyes; and as he sat in +the gig, thinking of them, other tears came into his own. By heaven, +he would have her yet! He was a man who had not read much of romance. +To him all the imagined mysteries of passion had not been made common +by the perusal of legions of love stories;—but still he knew enough +of the game to be aware that women had been won in spite, as it were, +of their own teeth. He knew that he could not now run away with her, +taking her off by force; but still he might conquer her will by his +own. As he remembered the tears in her eyes, and the tone of her +voice, and the pressure of her hand, and the gratitude that had +become tender in its expression, he could not but think that he would +be wise to love her still. Wise or foolish, he did love her still; +and it should not be owing to fault of his if she did not become his +wife. As he drove along he saw little of the Quantock hills, little +of the rich Somersetshire pastures, little of the early beauty of the +August morning. He saw nothing but her eyes, moistened with bright +tears, and before he reached Taunton he had rebuked himself with many +revilings in that he had parted from her and not kissed her.</p> + +<p>Clara stood at the door watching the gig till it was out of +sight,—watching it as well as her tears would allow. What a grand +cousin he was! Had it not been a pity,—a thousand pities,—that that +grievous episode should have come to mar the brotherly love, the +sisterly confidence, which might otherwise have been so perfect +between them? But perhaps it might all be well yet. Clara knew, or +thought that she knew, that men and women differed in their +appreciation of love. She, having once loved, could not change. Of +that she was sure. Her love might be fortunate or unfortunate. It +might be returned, or it might simply be her own, to destroy all hope +of happiness for her on earth. But whether it were this or that, +whether productive of good or evil, the love itself could not be +changed. But with men she thought it might be different. Her cousin, +doubtless, had been sincere in the full sincerity of his heart when +he made his offer. And had she accepted it,—had she been able to +accept it,—she believed that he would have loved her truly and +constantly. Such was his nature. But she also believed that love with +him, unrequited love, would have no enduring effect, and that he had +already resolved, with equal courage and wisdom, to tread this +short-lived passion out beneath his feet. One night had sufficed to +him for that treading out. As she thought of this the tears ran +plentifully down her cheek; and going again to her room she remained +there crying till it was time for her to wipe away the marks of her +weeping, that she might go to her father.</p> + +<p>But she was very glad that Will bore it so well;—very glad! Her +cousin was safe against love-making once again.</p> + + +<p><a name="c7" id="c7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> +<h4>MISS AMEDROZ GOES TO PERIVALE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It had been settled for some time past that Miss Amedroz was to go to +Perivale for a few days in November. Indeed it seemed to be a +recognised fact in her life that she was to make the journey from +Belton to Perivale and back very often, as there prevailed an idea +that she owed a divided duty. This was in some degree hard upon her, +as she had very little gratification in these visits to her aunt. Had +there been any intention on the part of Mrs. Winterfield to provide +for her, the thing would have been intelligible according to the +usual arrangements which are made in the world on such matters; but +Mrs. Winterfield had scarcely a right to call upon her niece for +dutiful attendance after having settled it with her own conscience +that her property was all to go to her nephew. But Clara entertained +no thought of rebelling, and had agreed to make the accustomed +journey in November, travelling then, as she did on all such +journeys, at her aunt's expense.</p> + +<p>Two things only occurred to disturb her tranquillity before she went, +and they were not of much violence. Mr. Wright, the clergyman, called +at Belton Castle, and in the course of conversation with Mr. Amedroz +renewed one of those ill-natured rumours which had before been spread +about Mrs. Askerton. Clara did not see him, but she heard an account +of it all from her father.</p> + +<p>"Does it mean, papa," she said, speaking almost with anger, "that you +want me to give up Mrs. Askerton?"</p> + +<p>"How can you be so unkind as to ask me such a question?" he replied. +"You know how I hate to be bothered. I tell you what I hear, and then +you can decide for yourself."</p> + +<p>"But that isn't quite fair either, papa. That man comes +<span class="nowrap">here—"</span></p> + +<p>"That man, as you call him, is the rector of the parish, and I've +known him for forty years."</p> + +<p>"And have never liked him, papa."</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about liking anybody, my dear. Nobody likes me, +and so why should I trouble myself?"</p> + +<p>"But, papa, it all amounts to this—that somebody has said that the +Askertons are not Askertons at all, but ought to be called something +else. Now we know that he served as Captain and Major Askerton for +seven years in India—and in fact it all means nothing. If I know +anything, I know that he is Colonel Askerton."</p> + +<p>"But do you know that she is his wife? That is what Mr. Wright asks. +I don't say anything. I think it's very indelicate talking about such +things."</p> + +<p>"If I am asked whether I have seen her marriage certificate, +certainly I have not; nor probably did you ever do so as to any lady +that you ever knew. But I know that she is her husband's wife, as we +all of us know things of that sort. I know she was in India with him. +I've seen things of hers marked with her name that she has had at +least for ten years."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about it, my dear," said Mr. Amedroz, angrily.</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Wright ought to know something about it before he says such +things. And then this that he's saying now isn't the same that he +said before."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what he said before."</p> + +<p>"He said they were both of them using a feigned name."</p> + +<p>"It's nothing to me what name they use. I know I wish they hadn't +come here, if I'm to be troubled about them in this way—first by +Wright and then by you."</p> + +<p>"They have been very good tenants, papa."</p> + +<p>"You needn't tell me that, Clara, and remind me about the shooting +when you know how unhappy it makes me."</p> + +<p>After this Clara said nothing more, and simply determined that Mr. +Wright and his gossip should have no effect upon her intimacy with +Mrs. Askerton. But not the less did she continue to remember what her +cousin had said about Miss Vigo.</p> + +<p>And she had been ruffled a second time by certain observations which +Mrs. Askerton made to her respecting her cousin—or rather by little +words which were dropped on various occasions. It was very clear that +Mrs. Askerton did not like Mr. Belton, and that she wished to +prejudice Clara against him. "It's a pity he shouldn't be a lover of +yours," the lady said, "because it would be such a fine instance of +Beauty and the Beast." It will of course be understood that Mrs. +Askerton had never been told of the offer that had been made.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that he's not a handsome man," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I never observe whether a man is handsome or not; but I can see very +well whether he knows what to do with his arms and legs, or whether +he has the proper use of his voice before ladies." Clara remembered a +word or two spoken by her cousin to herself, in speaking which he had +seemed to have a very proper use of his voice. "I know when a man is +at ease like a gentleman, and when he is awkward like +<span class="nowrap">a—"</span></p> + +<p>"Like a what?" said Clara. "Finish what you've got to say."</p> + +<p>"Like a ploughboy, I was going to say," said Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>"I declare I think you have a spite against him, because he said you +were like some Miss Vigo," replied Clara, sharply. Mrs. Askerton was +on that occasion silenced, and she said nothing more about Mr. Belton +till after Clara had returned from Perivale.</p> + +<p>The journey itself from Belton to Perivale was always a nuisance, and +was more so now than usual, as it was made in the disagreeable month +of November. There was kept at the little inn at Redicote an old +fly—so called—which habitually made the journey to the Taunton +railway-station, under the conduct of an old grey horse and an older +and greyer driver, whenever any of the old ladies of the +neighbourhood were minded to leave their homes. This vehicle usually +travelled at the rate of five miles an hour; but the old grey driver +was never content to have time allowed to him for the transit +calculated upon such a rate of speed. Accidents might happen, and why +should he be made, as he would plaintively ask, to drive the poor +beast out of its skin? He was consequently always at Belton a full +hour before the time, and though Clara was well aware of all this, +she could not help herself. Her father was fussy and impatient, the +man was fussy and impatient; and there was nothing for her but to go. +On the present occasion she was taken off in this way the full sixty +minutes too soon, and after four dreary hours spent upon the road, +found herself landed at the Taunton station, with a terrible gulf of +time to be passed before she could again proceed on her journey.</p> + +<p>One little accident had occurred to her. The old horse, while +trotting leisurely along the level high road, had contrived to tumble +down. Clara did not think very much of this, as the same thing had +happened with her before; but, even with an hour or more to spare, +there arises a question whether under such circumstances the train +can be saved. But the grey old man reassured her. "Now, miss," said +he, coming to the window, while he left his horse recumbent and +apparently comfortable on the road, "where'd you have been now, zure, +if I hadn't a few minutes in hand for you?" Then he walked off to +some neighbouring cottage, and having obtained assistance, succeeded +in putting his beast again upon his legs. After that he looked once +more in at the window. "Who's right now, I wonder?" he said, with an +air of triumph. And when he came to her for his guerdon at Taunton, +he was evidently cross in not having it increased because of the +accident.</p> + +<p>That hour at the Taunton station was terrible to her. I know of no +hours more terrible than those so passed. The minutes will not go +away, and utterly fail in making good their claim to be called +winged. A man walks up and down the platform, and in that way obtains +something of the advantage of exercise; but a woman finds herself +bound to sit still within the dreary dulness of the waiting-room. +There are, perhaps, people who under such circumstances can read, but +they are few in number. The mind altogether declines to be active, +whereas the body is seized by a spirit of restlessness to which delay +and tranquillity are loathsome. The advertisements on the walls are +examined, the map of some new Eden is studied—some Eden in which an +irregular pond and a church are surrounded by a multiplicity of +regular villas and shrubs—till the student feels that no +consideration of health or economy would induce him to live there. +Then the porters come in and out, till each porter has made himself +odious to the sight. Everything is hideous, dirty, and disagreeable; +and the mind wanders away, to consider why station-masters do not +more frequently commit suicide. Clara Amedroz had already got beyond +this stage, and was beginning to think of herself rather than of the +station-master, when at last there sounded, close to her ears, the +bell of promise, and she knew that the train was at hand.</p> + +<p>At Taunton there branched away from the main line that line which was +to take her to Perivale, and therefore she was able to take her own +place quietly in the carriage when she found that the down-train from +London was at hand. This she did, and could then watch with +equanimity, while the travellers from the other train went through +the penance of changing their seats. But she had not been so watching +for many seconds when she saw Captain Frederic Aylmer appear upon the +platform. Immediately she sank back into her corner and watched no +more. Of course he was going to Perivale; but why had not her aunt +told her that she was to meet him? Of course she would be staying in +the same house with him, and her present small attempt to avoid him +would thus be futile. The attempt was made; but nevertheless she was +probably pleased when she found that it was made in vain. He came at +once to the carriage in which she was sitting, and had packed his +coats, and dressing-bag, and desk about the carriage before he had +discovered who was his fellow-traveller. "How do you do, Captain +Aylmer?" she said, as he was about to take his seat.</p> + +<p>"Miss Amedroz! Dear me; how very odd! I had not the slightest +expectation of meeting you here. The pleasure is of course the +greater."</p> + +<p>"Nor I of seeing you. Mrs. Winterfield has not mentioned to me that +you were coming to Perivale."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know it myself till the day before yesterday. I'm going to +give an account of my stewardship to the good-natured Perivalians who +send me to Parliament. I'm to dine with the mayor to-morrow, and as +some big-wig has come in his way who is going to dine with him also, +the thing has been got up in a hurry. But I'm delighted to find that +you are to be with us."</p> + +<p>"I generally go to my aunt about this time of the year."</p> + +<p>"It is very good-natured of you." Then he asked after her father, and +she told him of Mr. Belton's visit, telling him nothing—as the +reader will hardly require to be told—of Mr. Belton's offer. And so, +by degrees, they fell into close and intimate conversation.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad, for your father's sake!" said the captain, with +sympathetic voice, speaking still of Mr. Belton's visit.</p> + +<p>"That's what I feel, of course."</p> + +<p>"It is just as it should be, as he stands in that position to the +property. And so he is a nice sort of fellow, is he?"</p> + +<p>"Nice is no word for him. He is perfect!"</p> + +<p>"Dear me! This is terrible! You remember that they hated some old +Greek patriot when they could find no fault in him?"</p> + +<p>"I'll defy you to hate my cousin Will."</p> + +<p>"What sort of looking man is he?"</p> + +<p>"Extremely handsome;—at least I should say so."</p> + +<p>"Then I certainly must hate him. And clever?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—not what you would call clever. He is very clever about +fields and cattle."</p> + +<p>"Come, there is some relief in that."</p> + +<p>"But you must not mistake me. He is clever; and then there's a way +about him of doing everything just as he likes it, which is +wonderful. You feel quite sure that he'll become master of +everything."</p> + +<p>"But I do not feel at all sure that I should like him the better for +that!"</p> + +<p>"But he doesn't meddle in things that he doesn't understand. And then +he is so generous! His spending all that money down there is only +done because he thinks it will make the place pleasanter to papa."</p> + +<p>"Has he got plenty of money?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, plenty! At least, I think so. He says that he has."</p> + +<p>"The idea of any man owning that he had got plenty of money! What a +happy mortal! And then to be handsome, and omnipotent, and to +understand cattle and fields! One would strive to emulate him rather +than envy him, had not one learned to acknowledge that it is not +given to every one to get to Corinth."</p> + +<p>"You may laugh at him, but you'd like him if you knew him."</p> + +<p>"One never can be sure of that from a lady's account of a man. When a +man talks to me about another man, I can generally tell whether I +should like him or not—particularly if I know the man well who is +giving the description; but it is quite different when a woman is the +describer."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you won't take my word?"</p> + +<p>"We see with different eyes in such matters. I have no doubt your +cousin is a worthy man—and as prosperous a gentleman as the Thane of +Cawdor in his prosperous days;—but probably if he and I came +together we shouldn't have a word to say to each other."</p> + +<p>Clara almost hated Captain Aylmer for speaking as he did, and yet she +knew that it was true. Will Belton was not an educated man, and were +they two to meet in her presence,—the captain and the farmer,—she +felt that she might have to blush for her cousin. But yet he was the +better man of the two. She knew that he was the better man of the +two, though she knew also that she could not love him as she loved +the other.</p> + +<p>Then they changed the subject of their conversation, and discussed +Mrs. Winterfield, as they had often done before. Captain Aylmer had +said that he should return to London on the Saturday, the present day +being Tuesday, and Clara accused him of escaping always from the real +hard work of his position. "I observe that you never stay a Sunday at +Perivale," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well;—not often. Why should I? Sunday is just the day that people +like to be at home."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought it would not have made much difference to a +bachelor in that way."</p> + +<p>"But Sunday is a day that one specially likes to pass after one's own +fashion."</p> + +<p>"Exactly;—and therefore you don't stay with my aunt. I understand it +all completely."</p> + +<p>"Now you mean to be ill-natured!"</p> + +<p>"I mean to say that I don't like Sundays at Perivale at all, and that +I should do just as you do if I had the power. But women,—women, +that is, of my age,—are such slaves! We are forced to give an +obedience for which we can see no cause, and for which we can +understand no necessity. I couldn't tell my aunt that I meant to go +away on Saturday."</p> + +<p>"You have no business which makes imperative calls upon your time."</p> + +<p>"That means that I can't plead pretended excuses. But the true reason +is that we are dependent."</p> + +<p>"There is something in that, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Not that I am dependent on her. But my position generally is +dependent, and I cannot assist myself."</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer found it difficult to make any answer to this, feeling +the subject to be one which could hardly be discussed between him and +Miss Amedroz. He not unnaturally looked to be the heir of his aunt's +property, and any provision made out of that property for Clara, +would so far lessen that which would come to him. For anything that +he knew, Mrs. Winterfield might leave everything she possessed to her +niece. The old lady had not been open and candid to him whom she +meant to favour in her will, as she had been to her to whom no such +favour was to be shown. But Captain Aylmer did know, with tolerable +accuracy, what was the state of affairs at Belton, and was aware that +Miss Amedroz had no prospect of maintenance on which to depend, +unless she could depend on her aunt. She was now pleading that she +was not dependent on that lady, and Captain Aylmer felt that she was +wrong. He was a man of the world, and was by no means inclined to +abandon any right that was his own; but it seemed to him that he was +almost bound to say some word to show that in his opinion Clara +should hold herself bound to comply with her aunt's requirements.</p> + +<p>"Dependence is a disagreeable word," he said; "and one never quite +knows what it means."</p> + +<p>"If you were a woman you'd know. It means that I must stay at +Perivale on Sundays, while you can go up to London or down to +Yorkshire. That's what it means."</p> + +<p>"What you do mean, I think, is this;—that you owe a duty to your +aunt, the performance of which is not altogether agreeable. +Nevertheless it would be foolish in you to omit it."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that;—not that at all. It would not be foolish, not in +your sense of the word, but it would be wrong. My aunt has been kind +to me, and therefore I am bound to her for this service. But she is +kind to you also, and yet you are not bound. That's why I complain. +You sail away under false pretences, and yet you think you do your +duty. You have to see your lawyer,—which means going to your club; +or to attend to your tenants,—which means hunting and shooting."</p> + +<p>"I haven't got any tenants."</p> + +<p>"You know very well that you could remain over Sunday without doing +any harm to anybody;—only you don't like going to church three +times, and you don't like hearing my aunt read a sermon afterwards. +Why shouldn't you stay, and I go to the club?"</p> + +<p>"With all my heart, if you can manage it."</p> + +<p>"But I can't; we ain't allowed to have clubs, or shooting, or to have +our own way in anything, putting forward little pretences about +lawyers."</p> + +<p>"Come, I'll stay if you'll ask me."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I won't do that. In the first place you'd go to sleep, and +then she would be offended; and I don't know that your sufferings +would make mine any lighter. I'm not prepared to alter the ways of +the world, but I feel myself entitled to grumble at them sometimes."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Winterfield inhabited a large brick house in the centre of the +town. It had a long frontage to the street; for there was not only +the house itself, with its three square windows on each side of the +door, and its seven windows over that, and again its seven windows in +the upper story,—but the end of the coach-house also abutted on the +street, on which was the family clock, quite as much respected in +Perivale as was the town-clock; and between the coach-house and the +mansion there was the broad entrance into the yard, and the entrance +also to the back door. No Perivalian ever presumed to doubt that Mrs. +Winterfield's house was the most important house in the town. Nor did +any stranger doubt it on looking at the frontage. But then it was in +all respects a town house to the eye,—that is, an English town +house, being as ugly and as respectable as unlimited bricks and +mortar could make it. Immediately opposite to Mrs. Winterfield lived +the leading doctor and a retired builder, so that the lady's eye was +not hurt by any sign of a shop. The shops, indeed, came within a very +few yards of her on either side; but as the neighbouring shops on +each side were her own property, this was not unbearable. To me, had +I lived there, the incipient growth of grass through some of the +stones which formed the margin of the road would have been altogether +unendurable. There is no sign of coming decay which is so melancholy +to the eye as any which tells of a decrease in the throng of men. Of +men or horses there was never any throng now in that end of Perivale. +That street had formed part of the main line of road from Salisbury +to Taunton, and coaches, waggons, and posting-carriages had been +frequent on it; but now, alas! it was deserted. Even the omnibuses +from the railway-station never came there unless they were ordered to +call at Mrs. Winterfield's door. For Mrs. Winterfield herself, this +desolation had, I think, a certain melancholy attraction. It suited +her tone of mind and her religious views that she should be thus +daily reminded that things of this world were passing away and going +to destruction. She liked to have ocular proof that grass was growing +in the highways under mortal feet, and that it was no longer worth +man's while to renew human flags in human streets. She was drawing +near to the pavements which would ever be trodden by myriads of +bright sandals, and which yet would never be worn, and would be +carried to those jewelled causeways on which no weed could find a +spot for its useless growth.</p> + +<p>Behind the house there was a square prim garden, arranged in +parallelograms, tree answering to tree at every corner, round which +it was still her delight to creep when the weather permitted. Poor +Clara! how much advice she had received during these creepings, and +how often had she listened to inquiries as to the schooling of the +gardener's children. Mrs. Winterfield was always unhappy about her +gardener. Serious footmen are very plentiful, and even coachmen are +to be found who, at a certain rate of extra payment, will be punctual +at prayer time, and will promise to read good little books; but +gardeners, as a class, are a profane people, who think themselves +entitled to claim liberty of conscience, and who will not submit to +the domestic despotism of a serious Sunday. They live in cottages by +themselves, and choose to have an opinion of their own on church +matters. Mrs. Winterfield was aware that she ought to bid high for +such a gardener as she wanted. A man must be paid well who will +submit to daily inquiries as to the spiritual welfare of himself, his +wife, and family. But even though she did bid high, and though she +paid generously, no gardener would stop with her. One conscientious +man attempted to bargain for freedom from religion during the six +unimportant days of the week, being strong, and willing therefore to +give up his day of rest; but such liberty could not be allowed to +him, and he also went. "He couldn't stop," he said, "in justice to +the greenhouses, when missus was so constant down upon him about his +sprittual backsliding. And, after all, where did he backslide? It was +only a pipe of tobacco with the babby in his arms, instead of that +darned evening lecture."</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Winterfield! She had been strong in her youth, and had +herself sat through evening lectures with a fortitude which other +people cannot attain. And she was strong too in her age, with the +strength of a martyr, submitting herself with patience to wearinesses +which are insupportable to those who have none of the martyr spirit. +The sermons of Perivale were neither bright, nor eloquent, nor +encouraging. All the old vicar or the young curate could tell she had +heard hundreds of times. She knew it all by heart, and could have +preached their sermons to them better than they could preach them to +her. It was impossible that she could learn anything from them; and +yet she would sit there thrice a day, suffering from cold in winter, +from cough in spring, from heat in summer, and from rheumatism in +autumn; and now that her doctor had forbidden her to go more than +twice, recommending her to go only once, she really thought that she +regarded the prohibition as a grievance. Indeed, to such as her, that +expectation of the jewelled causeway, and of the perfect pavement +that shall never be worn, must be everything. But if she was +right,—right as to herself and others,—then why has the world been +made so pleasant? Why is the fruit of the earth so sweet; and the +trees,—why are they so green; and the mountains so full of glory? +Why are women so lovely? and why is it that the activity of man's +mind is the only sure forerunner of man's progress? In listening +thrice a day to outpourings from the clergymen at Perivale, there +certainly was no activity of mind.</p> + +<p>Now, in these days, Mrs. Winterfield was near to her reward. That she +had ensured that I cannot doubt. She had fed the poor, and filled the +young full with religious teachings,—perhaps not wisely, and in her +own way only too well, but yet as her judgment had directed her. She +had cared little for herself,—forgiving injuries done to her, and +not forgiving those only which she thought were done to the Lord. She +had lived her life somewhat as the martyr lived, who stood for years +on his pillar unmoved, while his nails grew through his flesh. So had +she stood, doing, I fear, but little positive good with her large +means,—but thinking nothing of her own comfort here, in comparison +with the comfort of herself and others in the world to which she was +going.</p> + +<p>On this occasion her nephew and niece reached her together; the prim +boy, with the white cotton gloves and the low four-wheeled carriage, +having been sent down to meet Clara. For Mrs. Winterfield was a lady +who thought it unbecoming that her niece,—though only an adopted +niece,—should come to her door in an omnibus. Captain Aylmer had +driven the four-wheeled carriage from the station, dispossessing the +boy, and the luggage had been confided to the public conveyance.</p> + +<p>"It is very fortunate that you should come together," said Mrs. +Winterfield. "I didn't know when to expect you, Fred. Indeed, you +never say at what hour you'll come."</p> + +<p>"I think it safer to allow myself a little margin, aunt, because one +has so many things to do."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is so with a gentleman," said Mrs. Winterfield. After +which Clara looked at Captain Aylmer, but did not betray any of her +suspicions. "But I knew Clara would come by this train," continued +the old lady; "so I sent Tom to meet her. Ladies always can be +punctual; they can do that at any rate." Mrs. Winterfield was one of +those women who have always believed that their own sex is in every +respect inferior to the other.</p> + + +<p><a name="c8" id="c8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> +<h4>CAPTAIN AYLMER MEETS HIS CONSTITUENTS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>On the first evening of their visit Captain Aylmer was very attentive +to his aunt. He was quite alive to the propriety of such attentions, +and to their expediency; and Clara was amused as she watched him +while he sat by her side, by the hour together, answering little +questions and making little remarks suited to the temperament of the +old lady's mind. She, herself, was hardly called upon to join in the +conversation on that evening, and as she sat and listened, she could +not but think that Will Belton would have been less adroit, but that +he would also have been more straightforward. And yet why should not +Captain Aylmer talk to his aunt? Will Belton would also have talked +to his aunt if he had one, but then he would have talked his own +talk, and not his aunt's talk. Clara could hardly make up her mind +whether Captain Aylmer was or was not a sincere man. On the following +day Aylmer was out all the morning, paying visits among his +constituents, and at three o'clock he was to make his speech in the +Town-hall. Special places in the gallery were to be kept for Mrs. +Winterfield and her niece, and the old woman was quite resolved that +she would be there. As the day advanced she became very fidgety, and +at length she was quite alive to the perils of having to climb up the +Town-hall stairs; but she persevered, and at ten minutes before three +she was seated in her place.</p> + +<p>"I suppose they will begin with prayer," she said to Clara. Clara, +who knew nothing of the manner in which things were done at such +meetings, said that she supposed so. A town councillor's wife who sat +on the other side of Mrs. Winterfield, here took the liberty of +explaining that as the Captain was going to talk politics there would +be no prayers. "But they have prayers in the Houses of Parliament," +said Mrs. Winterfield, with much anger. To this the town councillor's +wife, who was almost silenced by the great lady's wrath, said that +indeed she did not know. After this Mrs. Winterfield continued to +hope for the best, till the platform was filled and the proceedings +had commenced. Then she declared the present men of Perivale to be a +godless set, and expressed herself very sorry that her nephew had +ever had anything to do with them. "No good can come of it, my dear," +she said. Clara from the beginning had feared that no good would come +of her aunt's visit to the Town-hall.</p> + +<p>The business was put on foot at once, and with some little +flourishing at the commencement, Captain Aylmer made his speech;—the +same speech which we have all heard and read so often, specially +adapted to the meridian of Perivale. He was a Conservative, and of +course he told his hearers that a good time was coming; that he and +his family were really about to buckle themselves to the work, and +that Perivale would hear things that would surprise it. The malt tax +was to go, and the farmers were to have free trade in beer,—the +arguments from the other side having come beautifully round in their +appointed circle,—and old England was to be old England once again. +He did the thing tolerably well, as such gentlemen usually do, and +Perivale was contented with its member, with the exception of one +Perivalian. To Mrs. Winterfield, sitting up there and listening with +all her ears, it seemed that he had hitherto omitted all allusion to +any subject that was worthy of mention. At last he said some word +about the marriage and divorce court, condemning the iniquity of the +present law, to which Perivale had opposed itself violently by +petition and general meetings; and upon hearing this Mrs. Winterfield +had thumped with her umbrella, and faintly cheered him with her weak +old voice. But the surrounding Perivalians had heard the cheer, and +it was repeated backwards and forwards through the room, till the +member's aunt thought that it might be her nephew's mission to annul +that godless Act of Parliament, and restore the matrimonial bonds of +England to their old rigidity. When Captain Aylmer came out to hand +her up to her little carriage, she patted him, and thanked him, and +encouraged him; and on her way home she congratulated herself to +Clara that she should have such a nephew to leave behind her in her +place.</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer was dining with the mayor on that evening, and Mrs. +Winterfield was therefore able to indulge herself in talking about +him. "I don't see much of young men, of course," she said; "but I do +not even hear of any that are like him." Again Clara thought of her +cousin Will. Will was not at all like Frederic Aylmer; but was he not +better? And yet, as she thought thus, she remembered that she had +refused her cousin Will because she loved that very Frederic Aylmer +whom her mind was thus condemning.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he does his duty as a member of Parliament very well," said +Clara.</p> + +<p>"That alone would not be much; but when that is joined to so much +that is better, it is a great deal. I am told that very few of the +men in the House now are believers at all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, aunt!"</p> + +<p>"It is terrible to think of, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But, aunt; they have to take some oath, or something of that sort, +to show that they are Christians."</p> + +<p>"Not now, my dear. They've done away with all that since we had Jew +members. An atheist can go into Parliament now; and I'm told that +most of them are that, or nearly as bad. I can remember when no +Papist could sit in Parliament. But they seem to me to be doing away +with everything. It's a great comfort to me that Frederic is what he +is."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it must be, aunt."</p> + +<p>Then there was a pause, during which, however, Mrs. Winterfield gave +no sign that the conversation was to be considered as being over. +Clara knew her aunt's ways so well, that she was sure something more +was coming, and therefore waited patiently, without any thought of +taking up her book. "I was speaking to him about you yesterday," Mrs. +Winterfield said at last.</p> + +<p>"That would not interest him very much."</p> + +<p>"Why not? Do you suppose he is not interested in those I love? +Indeed, it did interest him; and he told me what I did not know +before, and what you ought to have told me."</p> + +<p>Clara now blushed, she knew not why, and became agitated. "I don't +know that I have kept anything from you that I ought to have told," +she said.</p> + +<p>"He says that the provision made for you by your father has all been +squandered."</p> + +<p>"If he used that word he has been very unkind," said Clara, angrily.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what word he used, but he was not unkind at all; he +never is. I think he was very generous."</p> + +<p>"I do not want his generosity, aunt."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense, my dear. If he has told me the truth, what have +you to depend on?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to depend on anything. I hate hearing about it."</p> + +<p>"Clara, I wonder you can talk in that way. If you were only seventeen +it would be very foolish; but at your age it is inexcusable. When I +am gone, and your father is gone, who is to provide for you? Will +your cousin do it—Mr. Belton, who is to have the property?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he would—if I would let him;—of course I would not let him. +But, aunt, pray do not go on. I would sooner have to starve than talk +about it at all."</p> + +<p>There was another pause; but Clara again knew that the conversation +was not over; and she knew also that it would be vain for her to +endeavour to begin another subject. Nor could she think of anything +else to say, so much was she agitated.</p> + +<p>"What makes you suppose that Mr. Belton would be so liberal?" asked +Mrs. Winterfield.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I can't say. He is the nearest relation I shall have; +and of all the people I ever knew he is the best, and the most +generous, and the least selfish. When he came to us papa was quite +hostile to him—disliking his very name; but when the time came, papa +could not bear to think of his going, because he had been so good."</p> + +<p>"Clara!"</p> + +<p>"Well, aunt."</p> + +<p>"I hope you know my affection for you."</p> + +<p>"Of course I do, aunt; and I hope you trust mine for you also."</p> + +<p>"Is there anything between you and Mr. Belton besides cousinship?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"Because if I thought that, my trouble would of course be at an end."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing;—but pray do not let me be a trouble to you." +Clara, for a moment, almost resolved to tell her aunt the whole +truth; but she remembered that she would be treating her cousin badly +if she told the story of his rejection.</p> + +<p>There was another short period of silence, and then Mrs. Winterfield +went on. "Frederic thinks that I should make some provision for you +by will. That, of course, is the same as though he offered to do it +himself. I told him that it would be so, and I read him my will last +night. He said that that made no difference, and recommended me to +add a codicil. I asked him how much I ought to give you, and he said +fifteen hundred pounds. There will be as much as that after burying +me without burden to the estate. You must acknowledge that he has +been very generous."</p> + +<p>But Clara, in her heart, did not at all thank Captain Aylmer for his +generosity. She would have had everything from him, or nothing. It +was grievous to her to think that she should owe to him a bare +pittance to keep her out of the workhouse,—to him who had twice +seemed to be on the point of asking her to share everything with him. +She did not love her cousin Will as she loved him; but her cousin +Will's assurance to her that he would treat her with a brother's care +was sweeter to her by far than Frederic Aylmer's well-balanced +counsel to his aunt on her behalf. In her present mood, too, she +wanted no one to have forethought for her; she desired no provision; +for her, in the discomfiture of heart, there was consolation in the +feeling that when she should find herself alone in the world, she +would have been ill-treated by her friends all round her. There was a +charm in the prospect of her desolation of which she did not wish to +be robbed by the assurance of some seventy pounds a year, to be given +to her by Captain Frederic Aylmer. To be robbed of one's grievance is +the last and foulest wrong,—a wrong under which the most enduring +temper will at last yield and become soured,—by which the strongest +back will be broken. "Well, my dear," continued Mrs. Winterfield, +when Clara made no response to this appeal for praise.</p> + +<p>"It is so hard for me to say anything about it, aunt. What can I say +but that I don't want to be a burden to any one?"</p> + +<p>"That is a position which very few women can attain,—that is, very +few single women."</p> + +<p>"I think it would be well if all single women were strangled by the +time they are thirty," said Clara with a fierce energy which +absolutely frightened her aunt.</p> + +<p>"Clara! how can you say anything so wicked,—so abominably wicked!"</p> + +<p>"Anything would be better than being twitted in this way. How can I +help it that I am not a man and able to work for my bread? But I am +not above being a housemaid, and so Captain Aylmer shall find. I'd +sooner be a housemaid, with nothing but my wages, than take the money +which you say he is to give me. It will be of no use, aunt, for I +shall not take it."</p> + +<p>"It is I that am to leave it to you. It is not to be a present from +Frederic."</p> + +<p>"It is the same thing, aunt. He says you are to do it; and you told +me just now that it was to come out of his pocket."</p> + +<p>"I should have done it myself long ago, had you told me all the truth +about your father's affairs."</p> + +<p>"How was I to tell you? I would sooner have bitten my tongue out. But +I will tell you the truth now. If I had known that all this was to be +said to me about money, and that our poverty was to be talked over +between you and Captain Aylmer, I would not have come to Perivale. I +would rather that you should be angry with me and think that I had +forgotten you."</p> + +<p>"You would not say that, Clara, if you remembered that this will +probably be your last visit to me."</p> + +<p>"No, no; it will not be the last. But do not talk about these things. +And it will be so much better that I should be here when he is not +here."</p> + +<p>"I had hoped that when I died you might both be with me together,—as +husband and wife."</p> + +<p>"Such hopes never come to anything."</p> + +<p>"I still think that he would wish it."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense, aunt. It is indeed, for neither of us wish it." A +lie on such a subject from a woman under such circumstances is hardly +to be considered a lie at all. It is spoken with no mean object, and +is the only bulwark which the woman has ready at her need to cover +her own weakness.</p> + +<p>"From what he said yesterday," continued Mrs. Winterfield, "I think +it is your own fault."</p> + +<p>"Pray,—pray do not talk in that way. It cannot be matter of any +fault that two people do not want to marry each other."</p> + +<p>"Of course I asked him no positive question. It would be indelicate +even in me to have done that. But he spoke as though he thought very +highly of you."</p> + +<p>"No doubt he does. And so do I of Mr. Possitt."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Possitt is a very excellent young man," said Mrs. Winterfield, +gravely. Mr. Possitt was, indeed, her favourite curate at Perivale, +and always dined at the house on Sundays between services, when Mrs. +Winterfield was very particular in seeing that he took two glasses of +her best port wine to support him. "But Mr. Possitt has nothing but +his curacy."</p> + +<p>"There is no danger, aunt, I can assure you."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you call danger; but Frederic seemed to think that +you are always sharp with him. You don't want to quarrel with him, I +hope, because I love him better than any one in the world?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, aunt, what cruel things you say to me without thinking of them!"</p> + +<p>"I do not mean to be cruel, but I will say nothing more about him. As +I told you before, that I had not thought it expedient to leave away +any portion of my little property from Frederic,—believing as I did +then, that the money intended for you by your father was still +remaining,—it is best that you should now know that I have at last +learnt the truth, and that I will at once see my lawyer about making +this change."</p> + +<p>"Dear aunt, of course I thank you."</p> + +<p>"I want no thanks, Clara. I humbly strive to do what I believe to be +my duty. I have never felt myself to be more than a steward of my +money. That I have often failed in my stewardship I know well;—for +in what duties do we not all fail?" Then she gently laid herself back +in her arm-chair, closing her eyes, while she kept fast clasped in +her hands the little book of daily devotion which she had been +striving to read when the conversation had been commenced. Clara knew +then that nothing more was to be said, and that she was not at +present to interrupt her aunt. From her posture, and the closing of +her eyelids, Mrs. Winterfield might have been judged to be asleep; +but Clara could see the gentle motion of her lips, and was aware that +her aunt was solacing herself with prayer.</p> + +<p>Clara was angry with herself, and angry with all the world. She knew +that the old lady who was sitting then before her was very good; and +that all this that had now been said had come from pure goodness, and +a desire that strict duty might be done; and Clara was angry with +herself in that she had not been more ready with her thanks, and more +demonstrative with her love and gratitude. Mrs. Winterfield was +affectionate as well as good, and her niece's coldness, as the niece +well knew, had hurt her sorely. But still what could Clara have done +or said? She told herself that it was beyond her power to burst out +into loud praises of Captain Aylmer; and of such nature was the +gratitude which Mrs. Winterfield had desired. She was not grateful to +Captain Aylmer, and wanted nothing that was to come from his +generosity. And then her mind went away to that other portion of her +aunt's discourse. Could it be possible that this man was in truth +attached to her, and was repelled simply by her own manner? She was +aware that she had fallen into a habit of fighting with him, of +sparring against him with words about indifferent things, and calling +his conduct in question in a manner half playful and half serious. +Could it be the truth that she was thus robbing herself of that which +would be to her,—as to herself she had frankly declared,—the one +treasure which she would desire? Twice, as has been said before, +words had seemed to tremble on his lips which might have settled the +question for her for ever; and on both occasions, as she knew, she +herself had helped to laugh off the precious word that had been +coming. But had he been thoroughly in earnest,—in earnest as she +would have him to be,—no laugh would have deterred him from his +purpose. Could she have laughed Will Belton out of his declaration?</p> + +<p>At last the lips ceased to move, and she knew that her aunt was in +truth asleep. The poor old lady hardly ever slept at night; but +nature, claiming something of its due, would give her rest such as +this in her arm-chair by the fire-side. They were sitting in a large +double drawing-room upstairs, in which there were, as was customary +with Mrs. Winterfield in winter, two fires; and the candles were in +the back-room, while the two ladies sat in that looking out into the +street. This Mrs. Winterfield did to save her eyes from the candles, +and yet to be within reach of light if it were wanted. And Clara also +sat motionless in the dark, careful not to disturb her aunt, and +desirous of being with her when she should awake. Captain Aylmer had +declared his purpose of being home early from the Mayor's dinner, and +the ladies were to wait for his arrival before tea was brought to +them. Clara was herself almost asleep when the door was opened, and +Captain Aylmer entered the room.</p> + +<p>"H—sh!" she said, rising gently from her chair, and putting up her +finger. He saw her by the dull light of the fire, and closed the door +without a sound. Clara then crept into the back-room, and he followed +her with noiseless step. "She did not sleep at all last night," said +Clara; "and now the unusual excitement of the day has fatigued her, +and I think it is better not to wake her." The rooms were large, and +they were able to place themselves at such a distance from the +sleeper that their low words could hardly disturb her.</p> + +<p>"Was she very tired when she got home?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not very. She has been talking much since that."</p> + +<p>"Has she spoken about her will to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—she has."</p> + +<p>"I thought she would." Then he was silent, as though he expected that +she would speak again on that matter. But she had no wish to discuss +her aunt's will with him, and therefore, to break the silence, asked +him some trifling question. "Are you not home earlier than you +expected?"</p> + +<p>"It was very dull, and there was nothing more to be said. I did come +away early, and perhaps have given affront. I hope you will accept +the compliment implied."</p> + +<p>"Your aunt will, when she wakes. She will be delighted to find you +here."</p> + +<p>"I am awake," said Mrs. Winterfield. "I heard Frederic come in. It is +very good of him to come so soon. Clara, my dear, we will have tea."</p> + +<p>During tea, Captain Aylmer was called upon to give an account of the +Mayor's feast,—how the rector had said grace before dinner, and Mr. +Possitt had done so after dinner, and how the soup had been +uneatable. "Dear me!" said Mrs. Winterfield. "And yet his wife was +housekeeper formerly in a family that lived very well!" The Mrs. +Winterfields of this world allow themselves little spiteful pleasures +of this kind, repenting of them, no doubt, in those frequent moments +in which they talk to their friends of their own terrible vilenesses. +Captain Aylmer then explained that his own health had been drunk, and +his aunt desired to know whether, in returning thanks, he had been +able to say anything further against that wicked Divorce Act of +Parliament. This her nephew was constrained to answer with a +negative, and so the conversation was carried on till tea was over. +She was very anxious to hear every word that he could be made to +utter as to his own doings in Parliament, and as to his doings in +Perivale, and hung upon him with that wondrous affection which old +people with warm hearts feel for those whom they have selected as +their favourites. Clara saw it all, and knew that her aunt was almost +doting.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll go up to bed now, my dears," said Mrs. Winterfield, +when she had taken her cup of tea. "I am tired with those weary +stairs in the Town-hall, and I shall be better in my own room." Clara +offered to go with her, but this attendance her aunt declined,—as +she did always. So the bell was rung, and the old maid-servant walked +off with her mistress, and Miss Amedroz and Captain Aylmer were left +together.</p> + +<p>"I don't think she will last long," said Captain Aylmer, soon after +the door was closed.</p> + +<p>"I should be sorry to believe that; but she is certainly much +altered."</p> + +<p>"She has great courage to keep her up,—and a feeling that she should +not give way, but do her duty to the last. In spite of all that, +however, I can see how changed she is since the summer. Have you ever +thought how sad it will be if she should be alone when the day +comes?"</p> + +<p>"She has Martha, who is more to her now than any one else,—unless it +is you."</p> + +<p>"You could not remain with her over Christmas, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Who, I? What would my father do? Papa is as old, or nearly as old, +as my aunt."</p> + +<p>"But he is strong."</p> + +<p>"He is very lonely. He would be more lonely than she is, for he has +no such servant as Martha to be with him. Women can do better than +men, I think, when they come to my aunt's age."</p> + +<p>From this they got into a conversation as to the character of the +lady with whom they were both so nearly connected, and, in spite of +all that Clara could do to prevent it, continual references were made +by Captain Aylmer to her money and her will, and the need of an +addition to that will on Clara's behalf. At last she was driven to +speak out. "Captain Aylmer," she said, "the subject is so distasteful +to me, that I must ask you not to speak about it."</p> + +<p>"In my position I am driven to think about it."</p> + +<p>"I cannot, of course, help your thoughts; but I can assure you that +they are unnecessary."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me so hard that there should be such a gulf between you +and me." This he said after he had been silent for a while; and as he +spoke he looked away from her at the fire.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that there is any particular gulf," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is. And it is you that make it. Whenever I attempt to +speak to you as a friend you draw yourself off from me, and shut +yourself up. I know that it is not jealousy."</p> + +<p>"Jealousy, Captain Aylmer!"</p> + +<p>"Jealousy with my aunt, I mean."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed."</p> + +<p>"You are infinitely too proud for that; but I am sure that a stranger +seeing it all would think that it was so."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what it is that I do or that I ought not to do. But all +my life everything that I have done at Perivale has always been +wrong."</p> + +<p>"It would have been so natural that you and I should be friends."</p> + +<p>"If we are enemies, Captain Aylmer, I don't know it."</p> + +<p>"But if ever I venture to speak of your future life you always repel +me;—as though you were determined to let me know that it should not +be a matter of care to me."</p> + +<p>"That is exactly what I am determined to let you know. You are, or +will be, a rich man, and you have everything the world can give you. +I am, or shall be, a very poor woman."</p> + +<p>"Is that a reason why I should not be interested in your welfare?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—the best reason in the world. We are not related to each +other, though we have a common connection in dear Mrs. Winterfield. +And nothing, to my idea, can be more objectionable than any sort of +dependence from a woman of my age on a man of yours,—there being no +real tie of blood between them. I have spoken very plainly, Captain +Aylmer, for you have made me do it."</p> + +<p>"Very plainly," he said.</p> + +<p>"If I have said anything to offend you, I beg your pardon; but I was +driven to explain myself." Then she got up and took her bed-candle in +her hand.</p> + +<p>"You have not offended me," he said, as he also rose.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Captain Aylmer."</p> + +<p>He took her hand and kept it. "Say that we are friends."</p> + +<p>"Why should we not be friends?"</p> + +<p>"There is no reason on my part why we should not be the dearest +friends," he said. "Were it not that I am so utterly without +encouragement, I should say the very dearest." He still held her +hand, and was looking into her face as he spoke. For a moment she +stood there, bearing his gaze, as though she expected some further +words to be spoken. Then she withdrew her hand, and again saying, in +a clear voice, "Good-night, Captain Aylmer," she left the room.</p> + + +<p><a name="c9" id="c9"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> +<h4>CAPTAIN AYLMER'S PROMISE TO HIS AUNT.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>What had Captain Aylmer meant by telling her that they might be the +dearest friends—by saying so much as that, and then saying no more? +Of course Clara asked herself that question as soon as she was alone +in her bedroom, after leaving Captain Aylmer below. And she made two +answers to herself—two answers which were altogether distinct and +contradictory one of the other. At first she decided that he had said +so much and no more because he was deceitful—because it suited his +vanity to raise hopes which he had no intention of +fulfilling—because he was fond of saying soft things which were +intended to have no meaning. This was her first answer to herself. +But in her second she accused herself as much as she had before +accused him. She had been cold to him, unfriendly, and harsh. As her +aunt had told her, she spoke sharp words to him, and repulsed the +kindness which he offered her. What right had she to expect from him +a declaration of love when she was studious to stop him at every +avenue by which he might approach it? A little management on her side +would, she almost knew, make things right. But then the idea of any +such management distressed her;—nay, more, disgusted her. The +management, if any were necessary, must come from him. And it was +manifest enough that if he had any strong wishes in this matter he +was not a good manager. Her cousin, Will Belton, knew how to manage +much better.</p> + +<p>On the next morning, however, all her thoughts respecting Captain +Aylmer were dissipated by tidings which Martha brought to her +bedside. Her aunt was ill. Martha was afraid that her mistress was +very ill. She did not dare to send specially for the doctor on her +own responsibility, as Mrs. Winterfield had strong and peculiar +feelings about doctors' visits, and had on this very morning declined +to be so visited. On the next day the doctor would come in the usual +course of things, for she had submitted for some years back to such +periodical visitings; but she had desired that nothing might be done +out of the common way. Martha, however, declared that if she were +alone with her mistress the doctor would be sent for; and she now +petitioned for aid from Clara. Clara was, of course, by her aunt's +bedside in a few minutes, and in a few minutes more the doctor from +the other side of the way was there also.</p> + +<p>It was ten o'clock before Captain Aylmer and Miss Amedroz met at +breakfast, and they had before that been together in Mrs. +Winterfield's room. The doctor had told Captain Aylmer that his aunt +was very ill—very ill, dangerously ill. She had been wrong to go +into such a place as the cold, unaired Town-hall, and that, too, in +the month of November; and the fatigue had also been too much for +her. Mrs. Winterfield, too, had admitted to Clara that she knew +herself to be very ill. "I felt it coming on me last night," she +said, "when I was talking to you; and I felt it still more strongly +when I left you after tea. I have lived long enough. God's will be +done." At that moment, when she said she had lived long enough, she +forgot her intention with reference to her will. But she remembered +it before Clara had left the room. "Tell Frederic," she said, "to +send at once for Mr. Palmer." Now Clara knew that Mr. Palmer was the +attorney, and resolved that she would give no such message to Captain +Aylmer. But Mrs. Winterfield sent for her nephew, who had just left +her, and herself gave her orders to him. In the course of the morning +there came tidings from the attorney's office that Mr. Palmer was +away from Perivale, that he would be back on the morrow, and that he +would of course wait on Mrs. Winterfield immediately on his return.</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer and Miss Amedroz discussed nothing but their aunt's +state of health that morning over the breakfast-table. Of course, +under such circumstances in the house, there was no further immediate +reference made to that offer of dearest friendship. It was clear to +them both that the doctor did not expect that Mrs. Winterfield would +again leave her bed; and it was clear to Clara also that her aunt was +of the same opinion.</p> + +<p>"I shall hardly be able to go home now," she said.</p> + +<p>"It will be kind of you if you can remain."</p> + +<p>"And you?"</p> + +<p>"I shall remain over the Sunday. If by that time she is at all +better, I will run up to town and come down again before the end of +the week. I know you don't believe it, but a man really has some +things which he must do."</p> + +<p>"I don't disbelieve you, Captain Aylmer."</p> + +<p>"But you must write to me daily if I do go."</p> + +<p>To this Clara made no objection;—and she must write also to some one +else. She must let her cousin know how little chance there was that +she would be at home at Christmas, explaining to him at the same time +that his visit to her father would on that account be all the more +welcome.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to her now?" he asked, as Clara got up immediately +after breakfast. "I shall be in the house all the morning, and if you +want me you will of course send for me."</p> + +<p>"She may perhaps like to see you."</p> + +<p>"I will come up every now and again. I would remain there altogether, +only I should be in the way." Then he got a newspaper and made +himself comfortable over the fire, while she went up to her weary +task in her aunt's room.</p> + +<p>Neither on that day nor on the next did the lawyer come, and on the +following morning all earthly troubles were over with Mrs. +Winterfield. It was early on the Sunday morning that she died, and +late on the Saturday evening Mr. Palmer had sent up to say that he +had been detained at Taunton, but that he would wait on Mrs. +Winterfield early on the Monday morning. On the Friday the poor lady +had said much on the subject, but had been comforted by an assurance +from her nephew that the arrangement should be carried out exactly as +she wished it, whether the codicil was or was not added to the will. +To Clara she said nothing more on the subject, nor at such a time did +Captain Aylmer feel that he could offer her any assurance on the +matter. But Clara knew that the will was not altered; and though at +the time she was not thinking much about money, she had, +nevertheless, very clearly made up her own mind as to her own +conduct. Nothing should induce her to take a present of fifteen +hundred pounds,—or, indeed, of as many pence from Captain Aylmer. +During those hours of sickness in the house they had been much thrown +together, and no one could have been kinder or more gentle to her +than he had been. He had come to call her Clara, as people will do +when joined together in such duties, and had been very pleasant as +well as affectionate in his manner with her. It had seemed to her +that he also wished to take upon himself the cares and love of an +adopted brother. But as an adopted brother she would have nothing to +do with him. The two men whom she liked best in the world would +assume each the wrong place; and between them both she felt that she +would be left friendless.</p> + +<p>On the Saturday afternoon they had both surmised how it was going to +be with Mrs. Winterfield, and Captain Aylmer had told Mr. Palmer that +he feared his coming on the Monday would be useless. He explained +also what was required, and declared that he would be at once ready +to make good the deficiency in the will. Mr. Palmer seemed to think +that this would be better even than the making of a codicil in the +last moments of the lady's life; and, therefore, he and Captain +Aylmer were at rest on that subject.</p> + +<p>During the greater part of the Saturday night both Clara and Captain +Aylmer remained with their aunt; and once when the morning was almost +there, and the last hour was near at hand, she had said a word or two +which both of them had understood, in which she implored her darling +Frederic to take a brother's care of Clara Amedroz. Even in that +moment Clara had repudiated the legacy, feeling sure in her heart +that Frederic Aylmer was aware what was the nature of the care which +he ought to owe, if he would consent to owe any care to her. He +promised his aunt that he would do as she desired him, and it was +impossible that Clara should then, aloud, repudiate the compact. But +she said nothing, merely allowing her hand to rest with his beneath +the thin, dry hand of the dying woman. To her aunt, however, when for +a moment they were alone together, she showed all possible affection, +with thanks and tears, and warm kisses, and prayers for forgiveness +as to all those matters in which she had offended. "My pretty +one;—my dear," said the old woman, raising her hand on to the head +of the crouching girl, who was hiding her moist eyes on the bed. +Never during her life had her aunt appeared to her in so loving a +mood as now, when she was leaving it. Then, with some eager +impassioned words, in which she pronounced her ideas of what should +be the religious duties of a woman, Mrs. Winterfield bade farewell to +her niece. After that, she had a longer interview with her nephew, +and then it seemed that all worldly cares were over with her.</p> + +<p>The Sunday was passed in all that blankness of funeral grief which is +absolutely necessary on such occasions. It cannot be said that either +Clara or Captain Aylmer were stricken with any of that agony of woe +which is produced on us by the death of those whom we have loved so +well that we cannot bring ourselves to submit to part with them. They +were both truly sorry for their aunt, in the common parlance of the +world; but their sorrow was of that modified sort which does not numb +the heart, and make the surviving sufferer feel that there never can +be a remedy. Nevertheless, it demanded sad countenances, few words, +and those spoken hardly above a whisper; an absence of all amusement +and almost of all employment, and a full surrender to the trappings +of woe. They two were living together without other companion in the +big house,—sitting down together to dinner and to tea; but on this +day hardly a dozen words were spoken between them, and those dozen +were spoken with no purport. On the Monday Captain Aylmer gave orders +for the funeral, and then went away to London, undertaking to be back +on the day before the last ceremony. Clara was rather glad that he +should be gone, though she feared the solitude of the big house. She +was glad that he should be gone, as she found it impossible to talk +to him with ease to herself. She knew that he was about to assume +some position as protector or quasi guardian over her, in conformity +with her aunt's express wish, and she was quite resolved that she +would submit to no such guardianship from his hands. That being so, +the shorter period there might be for any such discussion the better.</p> + +<p>The funeral was to take place on the Saturday, and during the four +days that intervened she received two visits from Mr. Possitt. Mr. +Possitt was very discreet in what he said, and Clara was angry with +herself for not allowing his words to have any avail with her. She +told herself that they were commonplace; but she told herself, also, +after his first visit, that she had no right to expect anything else +but commonplace words. How often are men found who can speak words on +such occasions that are not commonplaces,—that really stir the soul, +and bring true comfort to the listener? The humble listener may +receive comfort even from commonplace words; but Clara was not +humble, and rebuked herself for her own pride. On the second occasion +of his coming she did endeavour to receive him with a meek heart, and +to accept what he said with an obedient spirit. But the struggle +within her bosom was hard, and when he bade her to kneel and pray +with him, she doubted for a moment between rebellion and hypocrisy. +But she had determined to be meek, and so hypocrisy carried the hour.</p> + +<p>What would a clergyman say on such an occasion if the object of his +solicitude were to decline the offer, remarking that prayer at that +moment did not seem to be opportune; and that, moreover, he, the +person thus invited, would like, first of all, to know what was to be +the special object of the proposed prayer, if he found that he could, +at the spur of the moment, bring himself at all into a fitting mood +for the task? Of him who would decline, without argument, the +clergyman would opine that he was simply a reprobate. Of him who +would propose to accompany an hypothetical acceptance with certain +stipulations, he would say to himself that he was a stiff-necked +wrestler against grace, whose condition was worse than that of the +reprobate. Men and women, conscious that they will be thus judged, +submit to the hypocrisy, and go down upon their knees unprepared, +making no effort, doing nothing while they are there, allowing their +consciences to be eased if they can only feel themselves numbed into +some ceremonial awe by the occasion. So it was with Clara, when Mr. +Possitt, with easy piety, went through the formula of his devotion, +hardly ever having realised to himself the fact that, of all works in +which man can engage himself, that of prayer is the most difficult.</p> + +<p>"It is a sad loss to me," said Mr. Possitt, as he sat for half an +hour with Clara, after she had thus submitted herself. Mr. Possitt +was a weakly, pale-faced little man, who worked so hard in the parish +that on every day, Sundays included, he went to bed as tired in all +his bones as a day labourer from the fields;—"a very great loss. +There are not many now who understand what a clergyman has to go +through, as our dear friend did." If he was mindful of his two +glasses of port wine on Sundays, who could blame him?</p> + +<p>"She was a very kind woman, Mr. Possitt."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed;—and so thoughtful! That she will have an exceeding +great reward, who can doubt? Since I knew her she always lived as a +saint upon earth. I suppose there's nothing known as to who will live +in this house, Miss Amedroz?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing;—I should think."</p> + +<p>"Captain Aylmer won't keep it in his own hands?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell in the least; but as he is obliged to live in London +because of Parliament, and goes to Yorkshire always in the autumn, he +can hardly want it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not. But it will be a sad loss,—a sad loss to have this +house empty. Ah!—I shall never forget her kindness to me. Do you +know, Miss Amedroz,"—and as he told his little secret he became +beautifully confidential;—"do you know, she always used to send me +ten guineas at Christmas to help me along. She understood, as well as +any one, how hard it is for a gentleman to live on seventy pounds a +year. You will not wonder that I should feel that I've had a loss." +It is hard for a gentleman to live upon seventy pounds a year; and it +is very hard, too, for a lady to live upon nothing a year, which lot +in life fate seemed to have in store for Miss Amedroz.</p> + +<p>On the Friday evening Captain Aylmer came back, and Clara was in +truth glad to see him. Her aunt's death had been now far enough back +to admit of her telling Martha that she would not dine till Captain +Aylmer had come, and to allow her to think somewhat of his comfort. +People must eat and drink even when the grim monarch is in the house; +and it is a relief when they first dare to do so with some attention +to the comforts which are ordinarily so important to them. For +themselves alone women seldom care to exercise much trouble in this +direction; but the presence of a man at once excuses and renders +necessary the ceremony of a dinner. So Clara prepared for the +arrival, and greeted the comer with some returning pleasantness of +manner. And he, too, was pleasant with her, telling her of his plans, +and speaking to her as though she were one of those whom it was +natural that he should endeavour to interest in his future welfare.</p> + +<p>"When I come back to-morrow," he said, "the will must be opened and +read. It had better be done here." They were sitting over the fire in +the dining-room, after dinner, and Clara knew that the coming back to +which he alluded was his return from the funeral. But she made no +answer to this, as she wished to say nothing about her aunt's will. +"And after that," he continued, "you had better let me take you out."</p> + +<p>"I am very well," she said. "I do not want any special taking out."</p> + +<p>"But you have been confined to the house the whole week."</p> + +<p>"Women are accustomed to that, and do not feel it as you would. +However, I will walk with you if you'll take me."</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll take you. And then we must settle our future plans. +Have you fixed upon any day yet for returning? Of course, the longer +you stay, the kinder you will be."</p> + +<p>"I can do no good to any one by staying."</p> + +<p>"You do good to me;—but I suppose I'm nobody. I wish I could tell +what to do about this house. Dear, good old woman! I know she would +have wished that I should keep it in my own hands, with some idea of +living here at some future time;—but of course I never shall live +here."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Would you like it yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I am not Member of Parliament for Perivale, and should not be the +leading person in the town. You would be a sort of king here; and +then, some day, you will have your mother's property as well as your +aunt's; and you would be near to your own tenants."</p> + +<p>"But that does not answer my question. Could you bring yourself to +live here,—even if it were your own?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is so deadly dull;—because it has no attraction +whatever;—because of all lives it is the one you would like the +least. No one should live in a provincial town but they who make +their money by doing so."</p> + +<p>"And what are the wives and daughters of such people to do,—and +especially their widows? I have no doubt I could live here very +happily if I had anybody near me that I liked. I should not wish to +have to depend altogether on Mr. Possitt for society."</p> + +<p>"And you would find him about the best."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Possitt has been with me twice whilst you were away, and he, +too, asked what you meant to do about the house."</p> + +<p>"And what did you say?"</p> + +<p>"What could I say? Of course I said I did not know. I suppose he was +meditating whether you would live here and ask him to dinner on +Sundays!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Possitt is a very good sort of man," said the Captain, +gravely;—for Captain Aylmer, in the carrying out of his principles, +always spoke seriously of everything connected with the Church in +Perivale.</p> + +<p>"And quite worthy to be asked to dinner on Sundays," said Clara. "But +I did not give him any hope. How could I? Of course I knew that you +would not live here, though I did not tell him so."</p> + +<p>"No; I don't suppose I shall. But I see very plainly that you think I +ought to do so."</p> + +<p>"I've the old-fashioned idea as to a man's living near to his own +property; that is all. No doubt it was good for other people in +Perivale, besides Mr. Possitt, that my dear aunt lived here; and if +the house is shut up, or let to some stranger, they will feel her +loss the more. But I don't know that you are bound to sacrifice +yourself to them."</p> + +<p>"If I were to marry," said Captain Aylmer, very slowly and in a low +voice, "of course I should have to think of my wife's wishes."</p> + +<p>"But if your wife, when she accepted you, knew that you were living +here, she would hardly take upon herself to demand that you should +give up your residence."</p> + +<p>"She might find it very dull."</p> + +<p>"She would make her own calculations as to that before she accepted +you."</p> + +<p>"No doubt;—but I can't fancy any woman taking a man who was tied by +his leg to Perivale. What do the people do who live in Perivale?"</p> + +<p>"Earn their bread."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—that's just what I said. But I shouldn't earn mine here."</p> + +<p>"I have the feeling I spoke of very strongly about papa's place," +said Clara, changing the conversation suddenly. "I very often think +of the future fate of Belton Castle when papa shall have gone. My +cousin has got his house at Plaistow, and I don't suppose he'd live +there."</p> + +<p>"And where will you go?" he asked.</p> + +<p>As soon as she had spoken, Clara regretted her own imprudence in +having ventured to speak upon her own affairs. She had been well +pleased to hear him talk of his plans, and had been quite resolved +not to talk of her own. But now, by her own speech, she had set him +to make inquiries as to her future life. She did not at first answer +the question; but he repeated it. "And where will you live yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I hope I may not have to think of that for some time to come yet."</p> + +<p>"It is impossible to help thinking of such things."</p> + +<p>"I can assure you that I haven't thought about it; but I suppose I +shall endeavour to—to—; I don't know what I shall endeavour to do."</p> + +<p>"Will you come and live at Perivale?"</p> + +<p>"Why here more than anywhere else?"</p> + +<p>"In this house I mean."</p> + +<p>"That would suit me admirably;—would it not? I'm afraid Mr. Possitt +would not find me a good neighbour. To tell the truth, I think that +any lady who lives here alone ought to be older than I am. The +Perivalians would not show to a young woman that sort of respect +which they have always felt for this house."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean alone," said Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>Then Clara got up and made some excuse for leaving him, and there was +nothing more said between them,—nothing, at least, of moment, on +that evening. She had become uneasy when he asked her whether she +would like to live in his house at Perivale. But afterwards, when he +suggested that she was to have some companion with her there, she +felt herself compelled to put an end to the conversation. And yet she +knew that this was always the way, both with him and with herself. He +would say things which would seem to promise that in another minute +he would be at her feet, and then he would go no further. And she, +when she heard those words,—though in truth she would have had him +at her feet if she could,—would draw away, and recede, and forbid +him as it were to go on. But Clara continued to make her comparisons, +and knew well that her cousin Will would have gone on in spite of any +such forbiddings.</p> + +<p>On that night, however, when she was alone, she could console herself +with thinking how right she had been. In that front bedroom, the door +of which was opposite to her own, with closed shutters, in the +terrible solemnity of lifeless humanity, was still lying the body of +her aunt! What would she have thought of herself if at such a moment +she could have listened to words of love, and promised herself as a +wife while such an inmate was in the house? She little knew that he, +within that same room, had pledged himself, to her who was now lying +there waiting for her last removal—had pledged himself, just seven +days since, to make the offer which, when he was talking to her, she +was always half hoping and half fearing!</p> + +<p>He could have meant nothing else when he told her that he had not +intended to suggest that she should live there alone in that great +house at Perivale. She could not hinder herself from thinking of +this, unfit as was the present moment for any such thoughts. How was +it possible that she should not speculate on the subject, let her +resolutions against any such speculation be ever so strong? She had +confessed to herself that she loved the man, and what else could she +wish but that he also should love her? But there came upon her some +faint suspicion—some glimpse of what was almost a dream—that he +might possibly in this matter be guided rather by duty than by love. +It might be that he would feel himself constrained to offer his hand +to her—constrained by the peculiarity of his position towards her. +If so—should she discover that such were his motives—there would be +no doubt as to the nature of her answer.</p> + + +<p><a name="c10" id="c10"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<h4>SHOWING HOW CAPTAIN AYLMER KEPT HIS PROMISE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>The next day was necessarily very sad. Clara had declared her +determination to follow her aunt to the churchyard, and did so, +together with Martha, the old servant. There were three or four +mourning coaches, as family friends came over from Taunton, one or +two of whom were to be present at the reading of the will. How +melancholy was the occasion, and how well the work was done; how +substantial and yet how solemn was the luncheon, spread after the +funeral for the gentlemen; and how the will was read, without a word +of remark, by Mr. Palmer, need hardly be told here. The will +contained certain substantial legacies to servants—the amount to +that old handmaid Martha being so great as to produce a fit of +fainting, after which the old handmaid declared that if ever there +was, by any chance, an angel of light upon the earth, it was her late +mistress; and yet Martha had had her troubles with her mistress; and +there was a legacy of two hundred pounds to the gentleman who was +called upon to act as co-executor with Captain Aylmer. Other clause +in the will there was none, except that one substantial clause which +bequeathed to her well-beloved nephew, Frederic Folliott Aylmer, +everything of which the testatrix died possessed. The will had been +made at some moment in which Clara's spirit of independence had +offended her aunt, and her name was not mentioned. That nothing +should have been left to Clara was the one thing that surprised the +relatives from Taunton who were present. The relatives from Taunton, +to give them their due, expected nothing for themselves; but as there +had been great doubt as to the proportions in which the property +would be divided between the nephew and adopted niece, there was +aroused a considerable excitement as to the omission of the name of +Miss Amedroz—an excitement which was not altogether unpleasant. When +people complain of some cruel shame, which does not affect themselves +personally, the complaint is generally accompanied by an unexpressed +and unconscious feeling of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>On the present occasion, when the will had been read and refolded, +Captain Aylmer, who was standing on the rug near the fire, spoke a +few words. His aunt, he said, had desired to add a codicil to the +will, of the nature of which Mr. Palmer was well aware. She had +expressed her intention to leave fifteen hundred pounds to her niece, +Miss Amedroz; but death had come upon her too quickly to enable her +to perform her purpose. Of this intention on the part of Mrs. +Winterfield, Mr. Palmer was as well aware as himself; and he +mentioned the subject now, merely with the object of saying that, as +a matter of course, the legacy to Miss Amedroz was as good as though +the codicil had been completed. On such a question as that there +could arise no question as to legal right; but he understood that the +legal claim of Miss Amedroz, under such circumstances, was as valid +as his own. It was therefore no affair of generosity on his part. +Then there was a little buzz of satisfaction on the part of those +present, and the meeting was broken up.</p> + +<p>A certain old Mrs. Folliott, who was cousin to everybody concerned, +had come over from Taunton to see how things were going. She had +always been at variance with Mrs. Winterfield, being a woman who +loved cards and supper parties, and who had throughout her life +stabled her horses in stalls very different to those used by the lady +of Perivale. Now this Mrs. Folliott was the first to tell Clara of +the will. Clara, of course, was altogether indifferent. She had known +for months past that her aunt had intended to leave nothing to her, +and her only hope had been that she might be left free from any +commiseration or remark on the subject. But Mrs. Folliott, with +sundry shakings of the head, told her how her aunt had omitted to +name her—and then told her also of Captain Aylmer's generosity. "We +all did think, my dear," said Mrs. Folliott, "that she would have +done better than that for you, or at any rate that she would not have +left you dependent on him." Captain Aylmer's horses were also +supposed to be stabled in strictly Low Church stalls, and were +therefore regarded by Mrs. Folliott with much dislike.</p> + +<p>"I and my aunt understood each other perfectly," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I dare say. But if so, you really were the only person that did +understand her. No doubt what she did was quite right, seeing that +she was a saint; but we sinners would have thought it very wicked to +have made such a will, and then to have trusted to the generosity of +another person after we were dead."</p> + +<p>"But there is no question of trusting to any one's generosity, Mrs. +Folliott."</p> + +<p>"He need not pay you a shilling, you know, unless he likes it."</p> + +<p>"And he will not be asked to pay me a shilling."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose he will go back after what he has said publicly."</p> + +<p>"My dear Mrs. Folliott," said Clara earnestly, "pray do not let us +talk about it. It is quite unnecessary. I never expected any of my +aunt's property, and knew all along that it was to go to Captain +Aylmer,—who, indeed, was Mrs. Winterfield's heir naturally. Mrs. +Winterfield was not really my aunt, and I had no claim on her."</p> + +<p>"But everybody understood that she was to provide for you."</p> + +<p>"As I was not one of the everybodies myself, it will not signify." +Then Mrs. Folliott retreated, having, as she thought, performed her +duty to Clara, and contented herself henceforth with abusing Mrs. +Winterfield's will in her own social circles at Taunton.</p> + +<p>On the evening of that day, when all the visitors were gone and the +house was again quiet, Captain Aylmer thought it expedient to explain +to Clara the nature of his aunt's will, and the manner in which she +would be allowed to inherit under it the amount of money which her +aunt had intended to bequeath to her. When she became impatient and +objected to listen to him, he argued with her, pointing out to her +that this was a matter of business to which it was now absolutely +necessary that she should attend. "It may be the case," he said, +"and, indeed, I hope it will, that no essential difference will be +made by it;—except that it will gratify you to know how careful she +was of your interests in her last moments. But you are bound in duty +to learn your own position; and I, as her executor, am bound to +explain it to you. But perhaps you would rather discuss it with Mr. +Palmer."</p> + +<p>"Oh no;—save me from that."</p> + +<p>"You must understand, then, that I shall pay over to you the sum of +fifteen hundred pounds as soon as the will has been proved."</p> + +<p>"I understand nothing of the kind. I know very well that if I were to +take it, I should be accepting a present from you, and to that I +cannot consent."</p> + +<p>"But Clara—"</p> + +<p>"It is no good, Captain Aylmer. Though I don't pretend to understand +much about law, I do know that I can have no claim to anything that +is not put into the will; and I won't have what I could not claim. My +mind is quite made up, and I hope I mayn't be annoyed about it. +Nothing is more disagreeable than having to discuss money matters."</p> + +<p>Perhaps Captain Aylmer thought that the having no money matters to +discuss might be even more disagreeable. "Well," he said, "I can only +ask you to consult any friend whom you can trust upon the matter. Ask +your father, or Mr. Belton, and I have no doubt that either of them +will tell you that you are as much entitled to the legacy as though +it had been written in the will."</p> + +<p>"On such a matter, Captain Aylmer, I don't want to ask anybody. You +can't pay me the money unless I choose to take it, and I certainly +shall not do that." Upon hearing this he smiled, assuming, as Clara +fancied that he was sometimes wont to do, a look of quiet +superiority; and then, for that time, he allowed the subject to be +dropped between them.</p> + +<p>But Clara knew that she must discuss it at length with her father, +and the fear of that discussion made her unhappy. She had already +written to say that she would return home on the day but one after +the funeral, and had told Captain Aylmer of her purpose. So very +prudent a man as he of course could not think it right that a young +lady should remain with him, in his house, as his visitor; and to her +decision on this point he had made no objection. She now heartily +wished that she had named the day after the funeral, and that she had +not been deterred by her dislike of making a Sunday journey. She +dreaded this day, and would have been very thankful if he would have +left her and gone back to London. But he intended, he said, to remain +at Perivale throughout the next week, and she must endure the day as +best she might be able. She wished that it were possible to ask Mr. +Possitt to his accustomed dinner; but she did not dare to make the +proposition to the master of the house. Though Captain Aylmer had +declared Mr. Possitt to be a very worthy man, Clara surmised that he +would not be anxious to commence that practice of a Sabbatical dinner +so soon after his aunt's decease. The day, after all, would be but +one day, and Clara schooled herself into a resolution to bear it with +good humour.</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer had made a positive promise to his aunt on her +deathbed that he would ask Clara Amedroz to be his wife, and he had +no more idea of breaking his word than he had of resigning the whole +property which had been left to him. Whether Clara would accept him +he had much doubt. He was a man by no means brilliant, not naturally +self-confident, nor was he, perhaps, to be credited with the +possession of high principles of the finest sort; but he was clever, +in the ordinary sense of the word, knowing his own interest, knowing, +too, that that interest depended on other things besides money; and +he was a just man, according to the ordinary rules of justice in the +world. Not for the first time, when he was sitting by the bedside of +his dying aunt, had he thought of asking Clara to marry him. Though +he had never hitherto resolved that he would do so—though he had +never till then brought himself absolutely to determine that he would +take so important a step—he had pondered over it often, and was +aware that he was very fond of Clara. He was, in truth, as much in +love with her as it was in his nature to be in love. He was not a man +to break his heart for a girl;—nor even to make a strong fight for a +wife, as Belton was prepared to do. If refused once, he might +probably ask again,—having some idea that a first refusal was not +always intended to mean much,—and he might possibly make a third +attempt, prompted by some further calculation of the same nature. But +it might be doubted whether, on the first, second, or third occasion, +he would throw much passion into his words; and those who knew him +well would hardly expect to see him die of a broken heart, should he +ultimately be unsuccessful.</p> + +<p>When he had first thought of marrying Miss Amedroz he had imagined +that she would have shared with him his aunt's property, and indeed +such had been his belief up to the days of the last illness of Mrs. +Winterfield. The match therefore had recommended itself to him as +being prudent as well as pleasant; and though his aunt had never +hitherto pressed the matter upon him, he had understood what her +wishes were. When she first told him, three or four days before her +death, that her property was left altogether to him, and then, on +hearing how totally her niece was without hope of provision from her +father, had expressed her desire to give a sum of money to Clara, she +had spoken plainly of her desire;—but she had not on that occasion +asked him for any promise. But afterwards, when she knew that she was +dying, she had questioned him as to his own feelings, and he, in his +anxiety to gratify her in her last wishes, had given her the promise +which she was so anxious to hear. He made no difficulty in doing so. +It was his own wish as well as hers. In a money point of view he +might no doubt now do better; but then money was not everything. He +was very fond of Clara, and felt that if she would accept him he +would be proud of his wife. She was well born and well educated, and +it was the proper sort of thing for him to do. No doubt he had some +idea, seeing how things had now arranged themselves, that he would be +giving much more than he would get; and perhaps the manner of his +offer might be affected by that consideration; but not on that +account did he feel at all sure that he would be accepted. Clara +Amedroz was a proud girl,—perhaps too proud. Indeed, it was her +fault. If her pride now interfered with her future fortune in life, +it should be her own fault, not his. He would do his duty to her and +to his aunt;—he would do it perseveringly and kindly; and then, if +she refused him, the fault would not be his.</p> + +<p>Such, I think, was the state of Captain Aylmer's mind when he got up +on the Sunday morning, resolving that he would on that day make good +his promise. And it must be remembered, on his behalf, that he would +have prepared himself for his task with more animation if he had +hitherto received warmer encouragement. He had felt himself to be +repulsed in the little efforts which he had already made to please +the lady, and had no idea whatever as to the true state of her +feelings. Had he known what she knew, he would, I think, have been +animated enough, and gone to his task as happy and thriving a lover +as any. But he was a man somewhat diffident of himself, though +sufficiently conscious of the value of the worldly advantages which +he possessed;—and he was, perhaps, a little afraid of Clara, giving +her credit for an intellect superior to his own.</p> + +<p>He had promised to walk with her on the Saturday after the reading of +the will, intending to take her out through the gardens down to a +farm, now belonging to himself, which lay at the back of the town, +and which was held by an old widow who had been senior in life to her +late landlady; but no such walk had been possible, as it was dark +before the last of the visitors from Taunton had gone. At breakfast +on Sunday he again proposed the walk, offering to take her +immediately after luncheon. "I suppose you will not go to church?" he +said.</p> + +<p>"Not to-day. I could hardly bring myself to do it to-day."</p> + +<p>"I think you are right. I shall go. A man can always do these things +sooner than a lady can. But you will come out afterwards?" To this +she assented, and then she was left alone throughout the morning. The +walk she did not mind. That she and Captain Aylmer should walk +together was all very well. They might probably have done so had Mrs. +Winterfield been still alive. It was the long evening afterwards that +she dreaded—the long winter evening, in which she would have to sit +with him as his guest, and with him only. She could not pass these +hours without talking to him, and she felt that she could not talk to +him naturally and easily. It would, however, be but for once, and she +would bear it.</p> + +<p>They went together down to the house of Mrs. Partridge, the tenant, +and made their kindly speeches to the old woman. Mrs. Partridge +already knew that Captain Aylmer was to be her landlord, but having +hitherto seen more of Miss Amedroz than of the Captain, and having +always regarded her landlady's niece as being connected irrevocably +with the property, she addressed them as though the estate were a +joint affair.</p> + +<p>"I shan't be here to trouble you long;—that I shan't, Miss Clara," +said the old woman.</p> + +<p>"I am sure Captain Aylmer would be very sorry to lose you," replied +Clara, speaking loud, and close to the poor woman's ear, for she was +deaf.</p> + +<p>"I never looked to live after she was gone, Miss Clara;—never. No +more I didn't. Deary;—deary! And I suppose you'll be living at the +big house now; won't ye?"</p> + +<p>"The big house belongs to Captain Aylmer, Mrs. Partridge." She was +driven to bawl out her words, and by no means liked the task. Then +Captain Aylmer said something, but his speech was altogether lost.</p> + +<p>"Oh;—it belongs to the Captain, do it? They told me that was the way +of the will; but I suppose it's all one."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it's all one," said Captain Aylmer, gaily.</p> + +<p>"It's not exactly all one, as you call it," said Clara, attempting to +laugh, but still shouting at the top of her voice.</p> + +<p>"Ah;—I don't understand; but I hope you'll both live there +together,—and I hope you'll be as good to the poor as she that is +gone. Well, well; I didn't ever think that I should be still here, +while she is lying under the stones up in the old church!"</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer had determined that he would ask his question on the +way back from the farm, and now resolved that he might as well begin +with some allusion to Mrs. Partridge's words about the house. The +afternoon was bright and cold, and the lane down to the farmhouse had +been dried by the wind, so that the day was pleasant for walking. "We +might as well go on to the bridge," he said, as they left the +farm-yard. "I always think that Perivale church looks better from +Creevy bridge than any other point." Perivale church stood high in +the centre of the town, on an eminence, and was graced with a spire +which was declared by the Perivalians to be preferable to that of +Salisbury in proportion, though it was acknowledged to be somewhat +inferior to it in height. The little river Creevy, which ran through +a portion of the suburbs of the town, and which, as there seen, was +hardly more than a ditch, then sloped away behind Creevy Grange, as +the farm of Mrs. Partridge was called, and was crossed by a small +wooden bridge, from which there was a view, not only of the church, +but of all that side of the hill on which Mrs. Winterfield's large +brick house stood conspicuously. So they walked down to Creevy +bridge, and, when there, stood leaning on the parapet and looking +back upon the town.</p> + +<p>"How well I know every house and spot in the place as I see them from +here," he said.</p> + +<p>"A good many of the houses are your own,—or will be some day; and +therefore you should know them."</p> + +<p>"I remember, when I used to be here as a boy fishing, I always +thought Aunt Winterfield's house was the biggest house in the +county."</p> + +<p>"It can't be nearly so large as your father's house in Yorkshire."</p> + +<p>"No; certainly it is not. Aylmer Park is a large place; but the house +does not stretch itself out so wide as that; nor does it stand on the +side of a hill so as to show out its proportions with so much +ostentation. The coach-house and the stables, and the old brewhouse, +seem to come half way down the hill. And when I was a boy I had much +more respect for my aunt's red-brick house in Perivale than I had for +Aylmer Park."</p> + +<p>"And now it's your own."</p> + +<p>"Yes; now it's my own,—and all my respect for it is gone. I used to +think the Creevy the best river in England for fish; but I wouldn't +give a sixpence now for all the perch I ever caught in it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps your taste for perch is gone also."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and my taste for jam. I never believed in the store-room at +Aylmer Park as I did in my aunt's store-room here."</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt but what it is full now."</p> + +<p>"I dare say; but I shall never have the curiosity even to inquire. +Ah, dear,—I wish I knew what to do about the house."</p> + +<p>"You won't sell it, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Not if I could either live in it, or let it. It would be wrong to +let it stand idle."</p> + +<p>"But you need not decide quite at once."</p> + +<p>"That's just what I want to do. I want to decide at once."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm sure I cannot advise you. It seems to me very unlikely that +you should come and live here by yourself. It isn't like a +country-house exactly."</p> + +<p>"I shan't live there by myself certainly. You heard what Mrs. +Partridge said just now."</p> + +<p>"What did Mrs. Partridge say?"</p> + +<p>"She wanted to know whether it belonged to both of us, and whether it +was not all one. Shall it be all one, Clara?"</p> + +<p>She was leaning over the rail of the bridge as he spoke, with her +eyes fixed on the slowly moving water. When she heard his words, she +raised her face and looked full upon him. She was in some sort +prepared for the moment, though it would be untrue to say that she +had now expected it. Unconsciously she had made some resolve that if +ever the question were put to her by him, she would not be taken +altogether off her guard; and now that the question was put to her, +she was able to maintain her composure. Her first feeling was one of +triumph,—as it must be in such a position to any woman who has +already acknowledged to herself that she loves the man who then asks +her to be his wife. She looked up into Captain Aylmer's face, and his +eye almost quailed beneath hers. Even should he be triumphant, he was +not perfectly assured that his triumph would be a success.</p> + +<p>"Shall what be all one?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Shall it be your house and my house? Can you tell me that you will +love me and be my wife?" Again she looked at him, and he repeated his +question. "Clara, can you love me well enough to take me for your +husband?"</p> + +<p>"I can," she said. Why should she hesitate, and play the coy girl, +and pretend to any doubts in her mind which did not exist there? She +did love him, and had so told herself with much earnestness. To him, +while his words had been doubtful,—while he had simply played at +making love to her, she had given no hint of the state of her +affections. She had so carried herself before him as to make him +doubt whether success could be possible for him. But now,—why should +she hesitate now? It was as she had hoped,—or as she had hardly +dared to hope. He did love her. "I can," she said; and then, before +he could speak again, she repeated her words with more emphasis. +"Indeed I can; with all my heart."</p> + +<p>As regarded herself, she was quite equal to the occasion; but had she +known more of the inner feelings of men and women in general, she +would have been slower to show her own. What is there that any man +desires,—any man or any woman,—that does not lose half its value +when it is found to be easy of access and easy of possession? Wine is +valued by its price, not its flavour. Open your doors freely to Jones +and Smith, and Jones and Smith will not care to enter them. Shut your +doors obdurately against the same gentlemen, and they will use all +their little diplomacy to effect an entrance. Captain Aylmer, when he +heard the hearty tone of the girl's answer, already began almost to +doubt whether it was wise on his part to devote the innermost bin of +his cellar to wine that was so cheap.</p> + +<p>Not that he had any idea of receding. Principle, if not love, +prevented that. "Then the question about the house is decided," he +said, giving his hand to Clara as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I don't care a bit about the house now," she answered.</p> + +<p>"That's unkind."</p> + +<p>"I am thinking so much more of you,—of you and of myself. What does +an old house matter?"</p> + +<p>"It's in very good repair," said Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"You must not laugh at me," she said; and in truth he was not +laughing at her. "What I mean is that anything about a house is +indifferent to me now. It is as though I had got all that I want in +the world. Is it wrong of me to say so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no;—not wrong at all. How can it be wrong?" He did not +tell her that he also had got all he wanted; but his lack of +enthusiasm in this respect did not surprise her, or at first even vex +her. She had always known him to be a man careful of his +words,—knowing their value,—not speaking with hurried rashness as +would her dear cousin Will. And she doubted whether, after all, such +hurried words mean as much as words which are slower and calmer. +After all his heat in love and consequent disappointment, Will Belton +had left her apparently well contented. His fervour had been +short-lived. She loved her cousin dearly, and was so very glad that +his fervour had been short-lived!</p> + +<p>"When you asked me, I could but tell you the truth," she said, +smiling at him.</p> + +<p>The truth is very well, but he would have liked it better had the +truth come to him by slower degrees. When his aunt had told him to +marry Clara Amedroz, he had been at once reconciled to the order by a +feeling on his own part that the conquest of Clara would not be too +facile. She was a woman of value, not to be snapped up easily,—or by +any one. So he had thought then; but he began to fancy now that he +had been wrong in that opinion.</p> + +<p>The walk back to the house was not of itself very exciting, though to +Clara it was a short period of unalloyed bliss. No doubt had then +come upon her to cloud her happiness, and she was "wrapped up in +measureless content." It was well that they should both be silent at +such a moment. Only yesterday had been buried their dear old +friend,—the friend who had brought them together, and been so +anxious for their future happiness! And Clara Amedroz was not a young +girl, prone to jump out of her shoes with elation because she had got +a lover. She could be steadily happy without many immediate words +about her happiness. When they had reached the house, and were once +more together in the drawing-room, she again gave him her hand, and +was the first to speak. "And you; are you contented?" she asked. Who +does not know the smile of triumph with which a girl asks such a +question at such a moment as that?</p> + +<p>"Contented?—well,—yes; I think I am," he said.</p> + +<p>But even those words did not move her to doubt. "If you are," she +said, "I am. And now I will leave you till dinner, that you may think +over what you have done."</p> + +<p>"I had thought about it before, you know," he replied. Then he +stooped over her and kissed her. It was the first time he had done +so; but his kiss was as cold and proper as though they had been man +and wife for years! But it sufficed for her, and she went to her room +as happy as a queen.</p> + + +<p><a name="c11" id="c11"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> +<h4>MISS AMEDROZ IS TOO CANDID BY HALF.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Clara, when she left her accepted lover in the drawing-room and went +up to her own chamber, had two hours for consideration before she +would see him again;—and she had two hours for enjoyment. She was +very happy. She thoroughly believed in the man who was to be her +husband, feeling confident that he possessed those qualities which +she thought to be most necessary for her married happiness. She had +quizzed him at times, pretending to make it matter of accusation +against him that his life was not in truth all that his aunt believed +it to be;—but had it been more what Mrs. Winterfield would have +wished, it would have been less to Clara's taste. She liked his +position in the world; she liked the feeling that he was a man of +influence; perhaps she liked to think that to some extent he was a +man of fashion. He was not handsome, but he looked always like a +gentleman. He was well educated, given to reading, prudent, steady in +his habits, a man likely to rise in the world; and she loved him. I +fear the reader by this time may have begun to think that her love +should never have been given to such a man. To this accusation I will +make no plea at present, but I will ask the complainant whether such +men are not always loved. Much is said of the rashness of women in +giving away their hearts wildly; but the charge when made generally +is, I think, an unjust one. I am more often astonished by the +prudence of girls than by their recklessness. A woman of thirty will +often love well and not wisely; but the girls of twenty seem to me to +like propriety of demeanour, decency of outward life, and a +competence. It is, of course, good that it should be so; but if it is +so, they should not also claim a general character for generous and +passionate indiscretion, asserting as their motto that Love shall +still be Lord of All. Clara was more than twenty; but she was not yet +so far advanced in age as to have lost her taste for decency of +demeanour and propriety of life. A Member of Parliament, with a small +house near Eaton Square, with a moderate income, and a liking for +committees, who would write a pamphlet once every two years, and read +Dante critically during the recess, was, to her, the model for a +husband. For such a one she would read his blue books, copy his +pamphlets, and learn his translations by heart. She would be safe in +the hands of such a man, and would know nothing of the miseries which +her brother had encountered. Her model may not appear, when thus +described, to be a very noble one; but I think it is the model most +approved among ladies of her class in England.</p> + +<p>She made up her mind on various points during those two hours of +solitude. In the first place, she would of course keep her purpose of +returning home on the following day. It was not probable that Captain +Aylmer would ask her to change it; but let him ask ever so much it +must not be changed. She must at once have the pleasure of telling +her father that all his trouble about her would now be over; and +then, there was the consideration that her further sojourn in the +house, with Captain Aylmer as her lover, would hardly be more proper +than it would have been had he not occupied that position. And what +was she to say if he pressed her as to the time of their marriage? +Her aunt's death would of course be a sufficient reason why it should +be delayed for some few months; and, upon the whole, she thought it +would be best to postpone it till the next session of Parliament +should have nearly expired. But she would be prepared to yield to +Captain Aylmer, should he name any time after Easter. It was clearly +his intention to keep up the house in Perivale as his country +residence. She did not like Perivale or the house, but she would say +nothing against such an arrangement. Indeed, with what face could she +do so? She was going to bring nothing to the common +account,—absolutely nothing but herself! As she thought of this her +love grew warmer, and she hardly knew how sufficiently to testify to +herself her own gratitude and affection.</p> + +<p>She became conscious, as she was preparing herself for dinner, of +some special attention to her toilet. She was more than ordinarily +careful with her hair, and felt herself to be aware of an anxiety to +look her best. She had now been for some time so accustomed to dress +herself in black, that in that respect her aunt's death had made no +difference to her. Deep mourning had ceased from habit to impress her +with any special feeling of funereal solemnity. But something about +herself, or in the room, at last struck her with awe, bidding her +remember how death had of late been busy among those who had been her +dearest and nearest friends; and she sat down, almost frightened at +her own heartlessness, in that she was allowing herself to be happy +at such a time. Her aunt had been carried away to her grave only +yesterday, and her brother's death had occurred under circumstances +of peculiar distress within the year;—and yet she was happy, +triumphant,—almost lost in the joy of her own position! She remained +for a while in her chair, with her black dress hanging across her +lap, as she argued with herself as to her own state of mind. Was it a +sign of a hard heart within her, that she could be happy at such a +time? Ought the memory of her poor brother to have such an effect +upon her as to make any joy of spirits impossible to her? Should she +at the present moment be so crushed by her aunt's demise, as to be +incapable of congratulating herself upon her own success? Should she +have told him, when he asked her that question upon the bridge, that +there could be no marrying or giving in marriage between them, no +talking on such a subject in days so full of sorrow as these? I do +not know that she quite succeeded in recognising it as a truth that +sorrow should be allowed to bar out no joy that it does not bar out +of absolute necessity,—by its own weight, without reference to +conventional ideas; that sorrow should never, under any +circumstances, be nursed into activity, as though it were a thing in +itself divine or praiseworthy. I do not know that she followed out +her arguments till she had taught herself that it is the Love that is +divine,—the Love which, when outraged by death or other severance, +produces that sorrow which man would control if he were strong +enough, but which he cannot control by reason of the weakness of his +humanity. I doubt whether so much as this made itself plain to her, +as she sat there before her toilet table, with her sombre dress +hanging from her hands on to the ground. But something of the +strength of such reasoning was hers. Knowing herself to be full of +joy, she would not struggle to make herself believe that it behoved +her to be unhappy. She told herself that she was doing what was good +for others as well as for herself;—what would be very good for her +father, and what should be good, if it might be within her power to +make it so, for him who was to be her husband. The blackness of the +cloud of her brother's death would never altogether pass away from +her. It had tended, as she knew well, to make her serious, grave, and +old, in spite of her own efforts to the contrary. The cloud had been +so black with her that it had nearly lost for her the prize which was +now her own. But she told herself that that blackness was an injury +to her, and not a benefit, and that it had now become a duty to +her,—for his sake, if not for her own,—to dispel its shadows rather +than encourage them. She would go down to him full of joy, though not +full of mirth, and would confess to him frankly, that in receiving +the assurance of his love, she had received everything that had +seemed to have any value for her in the world. Hitherto she had been +independent;—she had specially been careful to show to him her +resolve to be independent of him. Now she would put aside all that, +and let him know that she recognised in him her lord and master as +well as husband. To her father had been left no strength on which she +could lean, and she had been forced therefore to trust to her own +strength. Now she would be dependent on him who was to be her +husband. As heretofore she had rejected his offers of assistance +almost with disdain, so now would she accept them without scruple, +looking to him to be her guide in all things, putting from her that +carping spirit in which she had been wont to judge of his actions, +and believing in him,—as a wife should believe in her husband.</p> + +<p>Such were the resolutions which Clara made in the first hour of +solitude which came to her after her engagement; and they would have +been wise resolutions but for this flaw—that the stronger was +submitting itself to the weaker, the greater to the less, the more +honest to the less honest, that which was nearly true to that which +was in great part false. The theory of man and wife—that special +theory in accordance with which the wife is to bend herself in loving +submission before her husband, is very beautiful; and would be good +altogether if it could only be arranged that the husband should be +the stronger and the greater of the two. The theory is based upon +that hypothesis;—and the hypothesis sometimes fails of confirmation. +In ordinary marriages the vessel rights itself, and the stronger and +the greater takes the lead, whether clothed in petticoats, or in +coat, waistcoat, and trousers; but there sometimes comes a terrible +shipwreck, when the woman before marriage has filled herself full +with ideas of submission, and then finds that her golden-headed god +has got an iron body and feet of clay.</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer when he was left alone had also something to think +about; and as there were two hours left for such thought before he +would again meet Clara, and as he had nothing else with which to +occupy himself during those two hours, he again strolled down to the +bridge on which he had made his offer. He strolled down there, +thinking that he was thinking, but hardly giving much mind to his +thoughts, which he allowed to run away with themselves as they +listed. Of course he was going to be married. That was a thing +settled. And he was perfectly satisfied with himself in that he had +done nothing in a hurry, and could accuse himself of no folly even if +he had no great cause for triumph. He had been long thinking that he +should like to have Clara Amedroz for his wife;—long thinking that +he would ask her to marry him; and having for months indulged such +thoughts he could not take blame to himself for having made to his +aunt that deathbed promise which she had exacted. At the moment in +which she asked him the question he was himself anxious to do the +thing she desired of him. How then could he have refused her? And, +having given the promise, it was a matter of course with him to +fulfil it. He was a man who would have never respected himself +again—would have hated himself for ever, had he failed to keep a +promise from which no living being could absolve him. He had been +right therefore to make the promise, and having made it, had been +right to keep it, and to do the thing at once. And Clara was very +good and very wise, and sometimes looked very well, and would never +disgrace him; and as she was in worldly matters to receive much and +give nothing, she would probably be willing to make herself amenable +to any arrangements as to their future mode of life which he might +propose. In respect of this matter he was probably thinking of +lodgings for himself in London during the parliamentary session, +while she remained alone in the big red house upon which his eyes +were fixed at the time. There was much of convenience in all this, +which might perhaps atone to him for the sacrifice which he was +undoubtedly making of himself. Had marriage simply been of itself a +thing desirable, he could doubtless have disposed of himself to +better advantage. His prospects, present fortune, and general +position were so favourable, that he might have dared to lift his +expectations, in regard both to wealth and rank, very high. The +Aylmers were a considerable people, and he, though a younger brother, +had much more than a younger brother's portion. His seat in +Parliament was safe; his position in society was excellent and +secure; he was exactly so placed that marriage with a fortune was the +only thing wanting to put the finishing coping-stone to his +edifice;—that, and perhaps also the useful glory of having some Lady +Mary or Lady Emily at the top of his table. Lady Emily Aylmer? +Yes;—it would have sounded better, and there was a certain Lady +Emily who might have suited. Now, as some slight regrets stole upon +him gently, he failed to remember that this Lady Emily had not a +shilling in the world.</p> + +<p>Yes; some faint regrets did steal upon him, though he went on telling +himself that he had acted rightly. His stars, which were generally +very good to him, had not perhaps on this occasion been as good as +usual. No doubt he had to a certain degree become encumbered with +Clara Amedroz. Had not the direct and immediate leap with which she +had come into his arms shown him somewhat too plainly that one word +of his mouth tending towards matrimony had been regarded by her as +being too valuable to be lost? The fruit that falls easily from the +tree, though it is ever the best, is never valued by the gardener. +Let him have well-nigh broken his neck in gathering it, unripe and +crude, from the small topmost boughs of the branching tree, and the +pippin will be esteemed by him as invaluable. On that morning, as +Captain Aylmer had walked home from church, he had doubted much what +would be Clara's answer to him. Then the pippin was at the end of the +dangerous bough. Now it had fallen to his feet, and he did not +scruple to tell himself that it was his, and always might have been +his as a matter of course. Well, the apple had come of a good kind, +and, though there might be specks upon it, though it might not be fit +for any special glory of show or pride of place among the dessert +service, still it should be garnered and used, and no doubt would be +a very good apple for eating. Having so concluded, Captain Aylmer +returned to the house, washed his hands, changed his boots, and went +down to the drawing-room just as dinner was ready. She came up to him +almost radiant with joy, and put her hand upon his arm. "Martha did +not know but what you were here," she said, "and told them to put +dinner on the table."</p> + +<p>"I hope I have not kept you waiting."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no. And what if you did? Ladies never care about things +getting cold. It is gentlemen only who have feelings in such matters +as that."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that there is much difference; but, +<span class="nowrap">however—"</span> Then +they were in the dining-room, and as the servant remained there +during dinner, there was nothing in their conversation worth +repeating. After dinner they still remained down stairs, seating +themselves on the two sides of the fire, Clara having fully resolved +that she would not on such an evening as this leave Captain Aylmer to +drink his glass of port wine by himself.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I may stay with you, mayn't I?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, yes; I'm sure I'm very much obliged. I'm not at all wedded +to solitude." Then there was a slight pause.</p> + +<p>"That's lucky," she said, "as you have made up your mind to be wedded +in another sort of way." Her voice as she spoke was very low, but +there was a gentle ring of restrained joyousness in it which ought to +have gone at once to his heart and made him supremely blessed for the +time.</p> + +<p>"Well,—yes," he answered. "We are in for it now, both of us;—are we +not? I hope you have no misgivings about it, Clara."</p> + +<p>"Who? I? I have misgivings! No, indeed. I have no misgivings, +Frederic; no doubts, no scruples, no alloy in my happiness. With me +it is all as I would have it be. Ah; you haven't understood why it +has been that I have seemed to be harsh to you when we have met."</p> + +<p>"No, I have not," said he. This was true; but it is true also that it +would have been well that he should be kept in his ignorance. She was +minded, however, to tell him everything, and therefore she went on.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how to tell you; and yet, circumstanced as we are now, +it seems that I ought to tell you everything."</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly; I think that," said Aylmer. He was one of those men +who consider themselves entitled to see, hear, and know every little +detail of a woman's conduct, as a consequence of the circumstances of +his engagement, and who consider themselves shorn of their privilege +if anything be kept back. If any gentleman had said a soft word to +Clara eight years ago, that soft word ought to be repeated to him +now. I am afraid that these particular gentlemen sometimes hear some +fibs; and I often wonder that their own early passages in the +tournays of love do not warn them that it must be so. When James has +sat deliciously through all the moonlit night with his arm round +Mary's waist, and afterwards sees Mary led to the altar by John, does +it not occur to him that some John may have also sat with his arm +round Anna's waist,—that Anna whom he is leading to the altar? These +things should not be inquired into too curiously; but the curiosity +of some men on such matters has no end. For the most part, women like +telling,—only they do not choose to be pressed beyond their own +modes of utterance. "I should like to know that I have your full +confidence," said he.</p> + +<p>"You have got my full confidence," she replied.</p> + +<p>"I mean that you should tell me anything that there is to be told."</p> + +<p>"It was only this, that I had learned to love you before I thought +that my love would be returned."</p> + +<p>"Oh;—was that it?" said Captain Aylmer, in a tone which seemed to +imply something like disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Fred; that was it. And how could I, under such circumstances, +trust myself to be gentle with you, or to look to you for assistance? +How could I guess then all that I know now?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you couldn't."</p> + +<p>"And therefore I was driven to be harsh. My aunt used to speak to me +about it."</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder at that, for she was very anxious that we should be +married."</p> + +<p>Clara for a moment felt herself to be uncomfortable as she heard +these words, half perceiving that they implied some instigation on +the part of Mrs. Winterfield. Could it be that Captain Aylmer's offer +had been made in obedience to a promise? "Did you know of her +anxiety?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes; that is to say, I guessed it. It was natural enough that +the same idea should come to her and to me too. Of course, seeing us +so much thrown together, she could not but think of our being married +as a chance upon the cards."</p> + +<p>"She used to tell me that I was harsh to you;—abrupt, she called it. +But what could I do? I'll tell you, Fred, how I first found out that +I really cared for you. What I tell you now is of course a secret; +and I should speak of it to no one under any circumstances but those +which unite us two together. My cousin Will, when he was at Belton, +made me an offer."</p> + +<p>"He did, did he? You did not tell me that when you were saying all +those fine things in his praise in the railway carriage."</p> + +<p>"Of course I did not. Why should I? I wasn't bound to tell you my +secrets then, sir."</p> + +<p>"But he did absolutely offer to you?"</p> + +<p>"Is there anything so wonderful in that? But, wonderful or not, he +did."</p> + +<p>"And you refused him?"</p> + +<p>"I refused him certainly."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't have been a bad match, if all that you say about his +property is true."</p> + +<p>"If you come to that, it would have been a very good match; and +perhaps you think I was silly to decline it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't say that."</p> + +<p>"Papa thought so;—but, then, I couldn't tell papa the whole truth, +as I can tell it to you now, Captain Aylmer. I couldn't tell dear +papa that my heart was not my own to give to my cousin Will; nor +could I give Will any such reason. Poor Will! I could only say to him +bluntly that I wouldn't have him."</p> + +<p>"And you would, if it hadn't been,—hadn't been—for me."</p> + +<p>"Nay, Fred; there you tax me too far. What might have come of my +heart if you hadn't fallen in my way, who can say? I love Will Belton +dearly, and hope that you may do +<span class="nowrap">so—"</span></p> + +<p>"I must see him first."</p> + +<p>"Of course;—but, as I was saying, I doubt whether, under any +circumstances, he would have been the man I should have chosen for a +husband. But as it was,—it was impossible. Now you know it all, and +I think that I have been very frank with you."</p> + +<p>"Oh! very frank." He would not take her little jokes, nor understand +her little prettinesses. That he was a man not prone to joking she +knew well, but still it went against the grain with her to find that +he was so very hard in his replies to her attempts.</p> + +<p>It was not easy for Clara to carry on the conversation after this, so +she proposed that they should go up-stairs into the drawing-room. +Such a change even as that would throw them into a different way of +talking, and prevent the necessity of any further immediate allusion +to Will Belton. For Clara was aware, though she hardly knew why, that +her frankness to her future husband had hardly been successful, and +she regretted that she had on this occasion mentioned her cousin's +name. They went up-stairs and again sat themselves in chairs over the +fire; but for a while conversation did not seem to come to them +freely. Clara felt that it was now Captain Aylmer's turn to begin, +and Captain Aylmer felt—that he wished he could read the newspaper. +He had nothing in particular that he desired to say to his lady-love. +That morning, as he was shaving himself, he had something to say that +was very particular,—as to which he was at that moment so nervous, +that he had cut himself slightly through the trembling of his hand. +But that had now been said, and he was nervous no longer. That had +now been said, and the thing settled so easily, that he wondered at +his own nervousness. He did not know that there was anything that +required much further immediate speech. Clara had thought somewhat of +the time which might be proposed for their marriage, making some +little resolves, with which the reader is already acquainted; but no +ideas of this kind presented themselves to Captain Aylmer. He had +asked his cousin to be his wife, thereby making good his promise to +his aunt. There could be no further necessity for pressing haste. +Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.</p> + +<p>It is not to be supposed that the thriving lover actually spoke to +himself in such language as that,—or that he confessed to himself +that Clara Amedroz was an evil to him rather than a blessing. But his +feelings were already so far tending in that direction, that he was +by no means disposed to make any further promise, or to engage +himself in closer connection with matrimony by the mention of any +special day. Clara, finding that her companion would not talk without +encouragement from her, had to begin again, and asked all those +natural questions about his family, his brother, his sister, his home +habits, and the old house in Yorkshire, the answers to which must be +so full of interest to her. But even on these subjects he was dry, +and indisposed to answer with the full copiousness of free +communication which she desired. And at last there came a question +and an answer,—a word or two on one side, and then a word or two on +the other, from which Clara got a wound which was very sore to her.</p> + +<p>"I have always pictured to myself," she said, "your mother as a woman +who has been very handsome."</p> + +<p>"She is still a handsome woman, though she is over sixty."</p> + +<p>"Tall, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, tall, and with something of—of—what shall I say—dignity, +about her."</p> + +<p>"She is not grand, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you call grand."</p> + +<p>"Not grand in a bad sense;—I'm sure she is not that. But there are +some ladies who seem to stand so high above the level of ordinary +females as to make us who are ordinary quite afraid of them."</p> + +<p>"My mother is certainly not ordinary," said Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"And I am," said Clara, laughing. "I wonder what she'll say to +me,—or, rather, what she will think of me." Then there was a +moment's silence, after which Clara, still laughing, went on. "I see, +Fred, that you have not a word of encouragement to give me about your +mother."</p> + +<p>"She is rather particular," said Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>Then Clara drew herself up, and ceased to laugh. She had called +herself ordinary with that half-insincere depreciation of self which +is common to all of us when we speak of our own attributes, but which +we by no means intend that they who hear us shall accept as strictly +true, or shall re-echo as their own approved opinions. But in this +instance Captain Aylmer, though he had not quite done that, had done +almost as bad.</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose I had better keep out of her way," said Clara, by no +means laughing as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"Of course when we are married you must go and see her."</p> + +<p>"You do not, at any rate, promise me a very agreeable visit, Fred. +But I dare say I shall survive it. After all, it is you that I am to +marry, and not your mother; and as long as you are not majestic to +me, I need not care for her majesty."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by majesty."</p> + +<p>"You must confess that you speak of her as of something very +terrible."</p> + +<p>"I say that she is particular;—and so she is. And as my respect for +her opinion is equal to my affection for her person, I hope that you +will make a great effort to gain her esteem."</p> + +<p>"I never make any efforts of that kind. If esteem doesn't come +without efforts it isn't worth having."</p> + +<p>"There I disagree with you altogether;—but I especially disagree +with you as you are speaking about my mother, and about a lady who is +to become your own mother-in-law. I trust that you will make such +efforts, and that you will make them successfully. Lady Aylmer is not +a woman who will give you her heart at once, simply because you have +become her son's wife. She will judge you by your own qualities, and +will not scruple to condemn you should she see cause."</p> + +<p>Then there was a longer silence, and Clara's heart was almost in +rebellion even on this, the first day of her engagement. But she +quelled her high spirit, and said no further word about Lady Aylmer. +Nor did she speak again till she had enabled herself to smile as she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Well, Fred," she said, putting her hand upon his arm, "I'll do my +best, and woman can do no more. And now I'll say good night, for I +must pack for to-morrow's journey before I go to bed." Then he kissed +her,—with a cold, chilling kiss,—and she left him for the night.</p> + + +<p><a name="c12" id="c12"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> +<h4>MISS AMEDROZ RETURNS HOME.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Clara was to start by a train leaving Perivale at eight on the +following morning, and therefore there was not much time for +conversation before she went. During the night she had endeavoured so +to school herself as to banish from her breast all feelings of anger +against her lover, and of regret as regarded herself. Probably, as +she told herself, she had made more of what he had said than he had +intended that she should do; and then, was it not natural that he +should think much of his mother, and feel anxious as to the way in +which she might receive his wife? As to that feeling of anger on her +own part, she did get quit of it;—but the regret was not to be so +easily removed. It was not only what Captain Aylmer had said about +his mother that clung to her, doing much to quench her joy; but there +had been a coldness in his tone to her throughout the evening which +she recognised almost unconsciously, and which made her heart heavy +in spite of the joy which she repeatedly told herself ought to be her +own. And she also felt,—though she was not clearly aware that she +did so,—that his manner towards her had become less affectionate, +less like that of a lover, since the honest tale she had told him of +her own early love for him. She should have been less honest, and +more discreet; less bold, and more like in her words to the ordinary +run of women. She had known this as she was packing last night, and +she told herself that it was so as she was dressing on this her last +morning at Perivale. That frankness of hers had not been successful, +and she regretted that she had not imposed on herself some little +reticence,—or even a little of that coy pretence of indifference +which is so often used by ladies when they are wooed. She had been +boldly honest, and had found her honesty to be bad policy. She +thought, at least, that she had found its policy to be bad. Whether +in truth it may not have been very good,—have been the best policy +in the world,—tending to give her the first true intimation which +she had ever yet received of the real character of the man who was +now so much to her,—that is altogether another question.</p> + +<p>But it was clearly her duty to make the best of her present +circumstances, and she went down-stairs with a smiling face and with +pleasant words on her tongue. When she entered the breakfast-room +Captain Aylmer was there; but Martha was there also, and her pleasant +words were received indifferently in the presence of the servant. +When the old woman was gone, Captain Aylmer assumed a grave face, and +began a serious little speech which he had prepared. But he broke +down in the utterance of it, and was saying things very different +from what he had intended before he had completed it.</p> + +<p>"Clara," he began, "what occurred between us yesterday is a source of +great satisfaction to me."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that, Frederic," said she, trying to be a little less +serious than her lover.</p> + +<p>"Of very great satisfaction," he continued; "and I cannot but think +that we were justified by the circumstances of our position in +forgetting for a time the sad solemnity of the occasion. When I +remember that it was but the day before yesterday that I followed my +dear old aunt to the grave, I am astonished to think that yesterday I +should have made an offer of marriage."</p> + +<p>What could be the good of his talking in this strain? Clara, too, had +had her own misgivings on the same subject,—little qualms of +conscience that had come to her as she remembered her old friend in +the silent watches of the night; but such thoughts were for the +silent watches, and not for open expression in the broad daylight. +But he had paused, and she must say something.</p> + +<p>"One's excuse to oneself is this,—that she would have wished it so."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. She would have wished it. Indeed she did wish it, and +<span class="nowrap">therefore—"</span> He paused +in what he was saying, and felt himself to be +on difficult ground. Her eye was full upon him, and she waited for a +moment or two as though expecting that he would finish his words. But +as he did not go on, she finished them for him.</p> + +<p>"And therefore you sacrificed your own feelings." Her heart was +becoming sore, and she was unable to restrain the utterance of her +sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"Just so," said he; "or, rather, not exactly that. I don't mean that +I am sacrificed; for, of course, as I have just now said, nothing as +regards myself can be more satisfactory. But yesterday should have +been a solemn day to us; and as it was +<span class="nowrap">not—"</span></p> + +<p>"I thought it very solemn."</p> + +<p>"What I mean is that I find an excuse in remembering that I was doing +what she asked me to do."</p> + +<p>"What she asked you to do, Fred?"</p> + +<p>"What I had promised, I mean."</p> + +<p>"What you had promised? I did not hear that before." These last words +were spoken in a very low voice, but they went direct to Captain +Aylmer's ears.</p> + +<p>"But you have heard me declare," he said, "that as regards myself +nothing could be more satisfactory."</p> + +<p>"Fred," she said, "listen to me for a moment. You and I engaged +ourselves to each other yesterday as man and wife."</p> + +<p>"Of course we did."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, dear Fred. In doing that there was nothing in my mind +unbefitting the sadness of the day. Even in death we must think of +life, and if it were well for you and me that we should be together, +it would surely have been but a foolish ceremony between us to have +abstained from telling each other that it would be so because my aunt +had died last week. But it may be, and I think it is the case, that +the feelings arising from her death have made us both too +precipitate."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand how that can be."</p> + +<p>"You have been anxious to keep a promise made to her, without +considering sufficiently whether in doing so you would secure your +own happiness; and <span class="nowrap">I—"</span></p> + +<p>"I don't know about you, but as regards myself I must be considered +to be the best judge."</p> + +<p>"And I have been too much in a hurry in believing that which I wished +to believe."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by all this, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that our engagement shall be at an end;—not necessarily so +for always. But that as an engagement binding us both, it shall for +the present cease to exist. You shall be again +<span class="nowrap">free—"</span></p> + +<p>"But I don't choose to be free."</p> + +<p>"When you think of it you will find it best that it should be so. You +have performed your promise honestly, even though at a sacrifice to +yourself. Luckily for you,—for both of us, I should say,—the full +truth has come out; and we can consider quietly what will be best for +us to do, independently of that promise. We will part, therefore, as +dear friends, but not as engaged to each other as man and wife."</p> + +<p>"But we are engaged, and I will not hear of its being broken."</p> + +<p>"A lady's word, Fred, is always the most potential before +marriage;—and you must therefore yield to me in this matter. I am +sure your judgment will approve of my decision when you think of it. +There shall be no engagement between us. I shall consider myself +quite free,—free to do as I please altogether; and you, of course, +will be free also."</p> + +<p>"If you please, of course it must be so."</p> + +<p>"I do please, Fred."</p> + +<p>"And yesterday, then, is to go for nothing."</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. It cannot go for nothing with me. I told you too many +of my secrets for that. But nothing that was done or said yesterday +is to be held as binding upon either of us."</p> + +<p>"And you made up your mind to that last night?"</p> + +<p>"It is at any rate made up to that now. Come,—I shall have to go +without my breakfast if I do not eat it at once. Will you have your +tea now, or wait and take it comfortably when I am gone?"</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer breakfasted with her, and took her to the station, and +saw her off with all possible courtesy and attention, and then he +walked back by himself to his own great house in Perivale. Not a word +more had been said between him and Clara as to their engagement, and +he recognised it as a fact that he was no longer bound to her as her +future husband. Indeed, he had no power of not recognising the fact, +so decided had been her language, and so imperious her manner. It had +been of no avail that he had said that the engagement should stand. +She had told him that her voice was to be the more potential, and he +had felt that it was so. Well;—might it not be best for him that it +should be so? He had kept his promise to his aunt, and had done all +that lay in his power to make Clara Amedroz his wife. If she chose to +rebel against her own good fortune simply because he spoke to her a +few words which seemed to him to be fitting, might it not be well for +him to take her at her word?</p> + +<p>Such were his first thoughts; but as the day wore on with him, +something more generous in his nature came to his aid, and something +also that was akin to real love. Now that she was no longer his own, +he again felt a desire to have her. Now that there would be again +something to be done in winning her, he was again stirred by a man's +desire to do that something. He ought not to have told her of the +promise. He was aware that what he had said on that point had been +dropped by him accidentally, and that Clara's resolution after that +had not been unnatural. He would, therefore, give her another chance, +and resolved before he went to bed that night that he would allow a +fortnight to pass away, and would then write to her, renewing his +offer with all the strongest declarations of affection which he would +be enabled to make.</p> + +<p>Clara on her way home was not well satisfied with herself or with her +position. She had had great joy, during the few hours of joy which +had been hers, in thinking of the comfort which her news would give +to her father. He would be released from all further trouble on her +account by the tidings which she would convey to him,—by the tidings +which she had intended to convey to him. But now the story which she +would have to tell would by no means be comfortable. She would have +to explain to him that her aunt had left no provision for her, and +that would be the beginning and the end of her story. As for those +conversations about the fifteen hundred pounds,—of them she would +say nothing. When she reflected on what had taken place between +herself and Captain Aylmer she was more resolved than ever that she +would not touch any portion of that money,—or of any money that +should come from him. Nor would she tell her father anything of the +marriage engagement which had been made on one day and unmade on the +next. Why should she add to his distress by showing him what good +things might have been hers had she only had the wit to keep them? +No;—she would tell her father simply of the will, and then comfort +him in his affliction as best she might.</p> + +<p>As regarded her position with Captain Aylmer, the more she thought of +it the more sure she became that everything was over in that quarter. +She had, indeed, told him that such need not necessarily be the +case,—but this she had done in her desire at the moment to mitigate +the apparent authoritativeness of her own decision, rather than with +any idea of leaving the matter open for further consideration. She +was sure that Captain Aylmer would be glad of a means of escape, and +that he would not again place himself in the jeopardy which the +promise exacted from him by his aunt had made so nearly fatal to him. +And for herself, though she still loved the man,—so loved him that +she lay back in the corner of her carriage weeping behind her veil as +she thought of what she had lost,—still she would not take him, +though he should again press his suit upon her with all the ardour at +his command. No, indeed. No man should ever be made to regard her as +a burden imposed upon him by an extorted promise! What;—let a man +sacrifice himself to a sense of duty on her behalf! And then she +repeated the odious words to herself, till she came to think that it +had fallen from his lips and not from her own.</p> + +<p>In writing to her father from Perivale, she had merely told him of +Mrs. Winterfield's death and of her own intended return. At the +Taunton station she met the well-known old fly and the well-known old +driver, and was taken home in the accustomed manner. As she drew +nearer to Belton the sense of her distress became stronger and +stronger, till at last she almost feared to meet her father. What +could she say to him when he should repeat to her, as he would be +sure to do, his lamentation as to her future poverty?</p> + +<p>On arriving at the house she learned that he was up-stairs in his +bedroom. He had been ill, the servant said, and though he was not now +in bed, he had not come down-stairs. So she ran up to his room, and +finding him seated in an old arm-chair by the fire-side, knelt down +at his feet, as she took his hand and asked him as to his health.</p> + +<p>"What has Mrs. Winterfield done for you in her will?" These were the +first words he spoke to her.</p> + +<p>"Never mind about wills now, papa. I want you to tell me of +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Clara. Answer my question."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, I wish you would not think so much about money for me."</p> + +<p>"Not think about it? Why am I not to think about it? What else have I +got to think of? Tell me at once, Clara, what she has done. You ought +to have written to me directly the will was made known."</p> + +<p>There was no help for her, and the terrible word must be spoken. "She +has left her property to Captain Aylmer, papa; and I must say that I +think she is right."</p> + +<p>"You do not mean everything?"</p> + +<p>"She has provided for her servants."</p> + +<p>"And has made no provision for you?"</p> + +<p>"No, papa."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me that she has left you nothing,—absolutely +nothing?" The old man's manner was altogether altered as he asked +this question; and there came over his face so unusual a look of +energy,—of the energy of anger,—that Clara was frightened, and knew +not how to answer him with that tone of authority which she was +accustomed to use when she found it necessary to exercise control +over him. "Do you mean to say that there is nothing,—nothing?" And +as he repeated the question he pushed her away from his knees and +stood up with an effort, leaning against the back of his chair.</p> + +<p>"Dear papa, do not let this distress you."</p> + +<p>"But is it so? Is there in truth nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, papa. Remember that she was not really my aunt."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child;—nonsense! How can you talk such trash to me as +that? And then you tell me not to distress myself! I am to know that +you will be a beggar in a year or two,—probably in a few +months,—and that is not to distress me! She has been a wicked +woman!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, do not say that."</p> + +<p>"A wicked woman. A very wicked woman. It is always so with those who +pretend to be more religious than their neighbours. She has been a +very wicked woman, alluring you into her house with false hopes."</p> + +<p>"No, papa;—no; I must contradict you. She had given me no ground for +such hope."</p> + +<p>"I say she had,—even though she may not have made a promise. I say +she had. Did not everybody think that you were to have her money?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what people may have thought. Nobody has had any right +to think about it at all."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense, Clara. You know that I expected it;—that you +expected it yourself."</p> + +<p>"No;—no, no!"</p> + +<p>"Clara,—how can you tell me that?"</p> + +<p>"Papa, I knew that she intended to leave me nothing. She told me so +when I was there in the spring."</p> + +<p>"She told you so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa. She told me that Frederic Aylmer was to have all her +property. She explained to me everything that she meant to do, and I +thought that she was right."</p> + +<p>"And why was not I told when you came home?"</p> + +<p>"Dear papa!"</p> + +<p>"Dear papa, indeed. What is the meaning of dear papa? Why have I been +deceived?"</p> + +<p>"What good could I do by telling you? You could not change it."</p> + +<p>"You have been very undutiful; and as for her, her wickedness and +cruelty shock me,—shock me. They do, indeed. That she should have +known your position, and had you with her always,—and then have made +such a will as that! Quite heartless! She must have been quite +heartless."</p> + +<p>Clara now began to find that she must in justice to her aunt's memory +tell her father something more. And yet it would be very difficult to +tell him anything that would not bring greater affliction upon him, +and would not also lead her into deeper trouble. Should it come to +pass that her aunt's intention with reference to the fifteen hundred +pounds was mentioned, she would be subjected to an endless +persecution as to the duty of accepting that money from Captain +Aylmer. But her present feelings would have made her much prefer to +beg her bread upon the roads than accept her late lover's generosity. +And then again, how could she explain to her father Mrs. +Winterfield's mistake about her own position without seeming to +accuse her father of having robbed her? But nevertheless she must say +something, as Mr. Amedroz continued to apply that epithet of +heartless to Mrs. Winterfield, going on with it in a low droning +tone, that was more injurious to Clara's ears than the first full +energy of his anger. "Heartless,—quite heartless;—shockingly +heartless,—shockingly heartless!"</p> + +<p>"The truth is, papa," Clara said at last, "that when my aunt told me +about her will, she did not know but what I had some adequate +provision from my own family."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Clara!"</p> + +<p>"That is the truth, papa;—for she explained the whole thing to me. I +could not tell her that she was mistaken, and thus ask for her +money."</p> + +<p>"But she knew everything about that poor wretched boy." And now the +father dropped back into his chair, and buried his face in his hands.</p> + +<p>When he did this Clara again knelt at his feet. She felt that she had +been cruel, and that she had defended her aunt at the cost of her own +father. She had, as it were, thrown in his teeth his own imprudence, +and twitted him with the injuries which he had done to her. "Papa," +she said, "dear papa, do not think about it at all. What is the use? +After all, money is not everything. I care nothing for money. If you +will only agree to banish the subject altogether, we shall be so +comfortable."</p> + +<p>"How is it to be banished?"</p> + +<p>"At any rate we need not speak of it. Why should we talk on a subject +which is simply uncomfortable, and which we cannot mend?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!" And now he swayed himself backwards and +forwards in his chair, bewailing his own condition and hers, and his +past imprudence, while the tears ran down his cheeks. She still knelt +there at his feet, looking up into his face with loving, beseeching +eyes, praying him to be comforted, and declaring that all would still +be well if he would only forget the subject, or, at any rate, cease +to speak of it. But still he went on wailing, complaining of his lot +as a child complains, and refusing all consolation. "Yes; I know," +said he, "it has all been my fault. But how could I help it? What was +I to do?"</p> + +<p>"Papa, nobody has said that anything was your fault; nobody has +thought so."</p> + +<p>"I never spent anything on myself—never, never; and yet,—and +yet,—and <span class="nowrap">yet—!"</span></p> + +<p>"Look at it with more courage, papa. After all, what harm will it be +if I should have to go out and earn my own bread like any other young +woman? I am not afraid."</p> + +<p>At last he wept himself into an apathetic tranquillity, as though he +had at present no further power for any of the energy of grief; and +she left him while she went about the house and learned how things +had gone on during her absence. It seemed, from the tidings which the +servant gave her, that he had been ill almost since she had been +gone. He had, at any rate, chosen to take his meals in his own room, +and as far as was remembered, had not once left the house since she +had been away. He had on two or three occasions spoken of Mr. Belton, +appearing to be anxious for his coming, and asking questions as to +the cattle and the work that was still going on about the place; and +Clara, when she returned to his room, tried to interest him again +about her cousin. But he had in truth been too much distressed by the +ill news as to Mrs. Winterfield's will to be able to rally himself, +and the evening that was spent up in his room was very comfortless to +both of them. Clara had her own sorrows to bear as well as her +father's, and could take no pleasant look out into the world of her +own circumstances. She had gained her lover merely to lose him,—and +had lost him under circumstances that were very painful to her +woman's feeling. Though he had been for one night betrothed to her as +her husband, he had never loved her. He had asked her to be his wife +simply in fulfilment of a death-bed promise! The more she thought of +it the more bitter did the idea of it become to her. And she could +not also but think of her cousin. Poor Will! He, at any rate, had +loved her, though his eagerness in love had been, as she told +herself, but short-lived. As she thought of him, it seemed but the +other day that he had been with her up on the rock in the park;—but +as she thought of Captain Aylmer, to whom she had become engaged only +yesterday, and from whom she had separated herself only that morning, +she felt that an eternity of time had passed since she had parted +from him.</p> + +<p>On the following day, a dull, dark, melancholy day, towards the end +of November, she went out to saunter about the park, leaving her +father still in his bedroom, and after a while made her way down to +the cottage. She found Mrs. Askerton as usual alone in the little +drawing-room, sitting near the window with a book in her hand; but +Clara knew at once that her friend had not been reading,—that she +had been sitting there looking out upon the clouds, with her mind +fixed upon things far away. The general cheerfulness of this woman +had often been cause of wonder to Clara, who knew how many of her +hours were passed in solitude; but there did occasionally come upon +her periods of melancholy in which she was unable to act up to the +settled rule of her life, and in which she would confess that the +days and weeks and months were too long for her.</p> + +<p>"So you are back," said Mrs. Askerton, as soon as the first greeting +was over.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am back."</p> + +<p>"I supposed you would not stay there long after the funeral."</p> + +<p>"No; what good could I do?"</p> + +<p>"And Captain Aylmer is still there, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I left him at Perivale."</p> + +<p>There was a slight pause, as Mrs. Askerton hesitated before she asked +her next question. "May I be told anything about the will?" she said.</p> + +<p>"The weary will! If you knew how I hated the subject you would not +ask me. But you must not think I hate it because it has given me +nothing."</p> + +<p>"Given you nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing! But that does not make me hate it. It is the nature of the +subject that is so odious. I have now told you all,—everything that +there is to be told, though we were to talk for a week. If you are +generous you will not say another word about it."</p> + +<p>"But I am so sorry."</p> + +<p>"There,—that's it. You won't perceive that the expression of such +sorrow is a personal injury to me. I don't want you to be sorry."</p> + +<p>"How am I to help it?"</p> + +<p>"You need not express it. I don't come pitying you for supposed +troubles. You have plenty of money; but if you were so poor that you +could eat nothing but cold mutton, I shouldn't condole with you as to +the state of your larder. I should pretend to think that poultry and +piecrust were plentiful with you."</p> + +<p>"No, you wouldn't, dear;—not if I were as dear to you as you are to +me."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, be sorry; and let there be an end of it. Remember how +much of all this I must of necessity have to go through with poor +papa."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; I can believe that."</p> + +<p>"And he is so far from well. Of course you have not seen him since I +have been gone."</p> + +<p>"No; we never see him unless he comes up to the gate there." Then +there was another pause for a moment. "And what about Captain +Aylmer?" asked Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>"Well;—what about him?"</p> + +<p>"He is the heir now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—he is the heir."</p> + +<p>"And that is all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that is all. What more should there be? The poor old house at +Perivale will be shut up, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I don't care about the old house much, as it is not to be your +house."</p> + +<p>"No;—it is not to be my house certainly."</p> + +<p>"There were two ways in which it might have become yours."</p> + +<p>"Though there were ten ways, none of those ways have come my way," +said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Of course I know that you are so close that though there were +anything to tell you would not tell it."</p> + +<p>"I think I would tell you anything that was proper to be told; but +now there is nothing proper,—or improper."</p> + +<p>"Was it proper or improper when Mr. Belton made an offer to you,—as +I knew he would do, of course; as I told you that he would? Was that +so improper that it could not be told?"</p> + +<p>Clara was aware that the tell-tale colour in her face at once took +from her the possibility of even pretending that the allegation was +untrue, and that in any answer she might give she must acknowledge +the fact. "I do not think," she said, "that it is considered fair to +gentlemen to tell such stories as that."</p> + +<p>"Then I can only say that the young ladies I have known are generally +very unfair."</p> + +<p>"But who told you?"</p> + +<p>"Who told me? My maid. Of course she got it from yours. Those things +are always known."</p> + +<p>"Poor Will!"</p> + +<p>"Poor Will, indeed. He is coming here again, I hear, almost +immediately, and it needn't be 'poor Will' unless you like it. But as +for me, I am not going to be an advocate in his favour. I tell you +fairly that I did not like what little I saw of poor Will."</p> + +<p>"I like him of all things."</p> + +<p>"You should teach him to be a little more courteous in his demeanour +to ladies; that is all. I will tell you something else, too, about +poor Will—but not now. Some other day I will tell you something of +your cousin Will."</p> + +<p>Clara did not care to ask any questions as to this something that was +to be told, and therefore took her leave and went away.</p> + + +<p><a name="c13" id="c13"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> +<h4>MR. WILLIAM BELTON TAKES<br />A WALK IN THE COUNTRY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Clara Amedroz had made one great mistake about her cousin, Will +Belton, when she came to the conclusion that she might accept his +proffered friendship without any apprehension that the friend would +become a lover; and she made another, equally great, when she +convinced herself that his love had been as short-lived as it had +been eager. Throughout his journey back to Plaistow, he had thought +of nothing else but his love, and had resolved to persevere, telling +himself sometimes that he might perhaps be successful, and feeling +sure at other times that he would encounter renewed sorrow and +permanent disappointment,—but equally resolved in either mood that +he would persevere. Not to persevere in pursuit of any desired +object,—let the object be what it might,—was, to his thinking, +unmanly, weak, and destructive of self-respect. He would sometimes +say of himself, joking with other men, that if he did not succeed in +this or that thing, he could never speak to himself again. To no man +did he talk of his love in such a strain as this; but there was a +woman to whom he spoke of it; and though he could not joke on such a +matter, the purport of what he said showed the same feeling. To be +finally rejected, and to put up with such rejection, would make him +almost contemptible in his own eyes.</p> + +<p>This woman was his sister, Mary Belton. Something has been already +said of this lady, which the reader may perhaps remember. She was a +year or two older than her brother, with whom she always lived, but +she had none of those properties of youth which belonged to him in +such abundance. She was, indeed, a poor cripple, unable to walk +beyond the limits of her own garden, feeble in health, dwarfed in +stature, robbed of all the ordinary enjoyments of life by physical +deficiencies, which made even the task of living a burden to her. To +eat was a pain, or at best a trouble. Sleep would not comfort her in +bed, and weariness during the day made it necessary that the hours +passed in bed should be very long. She was one of those whose lot in +life drives us to marvel at the inequalities of human destiny, and to +inquire curiously within ourselves whether future compensation is to +be given.</p> + +<p>It is said of those who are small and crooked-backed in their bodies, +that their minds are equally cross-grained and their tempers as +ungainly as their stature. But no one had ever said this of Mary +Belton. Her friends, indeed, were very few in number; but those who +knew her well loved her as they knew her, and there were three or +four persons in the world who were ready at all times to swear that +she was faultless. It was the great happiness of her life that among +those three or four her own brother was the foremost. Will Belton's +love for his sister amounted almost to veneration, and his devotion +to her was so great, that in all the affairs of his life he was +prepared to make her comfort one of his first considerations. And +she, knowing this, had come to fear that she might be an embargo on +his prosperity, and a stumbling-block in the way of his success. It +had occurred to her that he would have married earlier in life if she +had not been, as it were, in his way; and she had threatened him +playfully,—for she could be playful,—that she would leave him if he +did not soon bring a mistress home to Plaistow Hall. "I will go to +uncle Robert," she had said. Now uncle Robert was the clergyman in +Lincolnshire of whom mention has been made, and he was among those +two or three who believed in Mary Belton with an implicit faith,—as +was also his wife. "I will go to uncle Robert, Will, and then you +will be driven to get a wife."</p> + +<p>"If my sister ever leaves my house, whether there be a wife in it or +not," Will had answered, "I will never put trust in any woman again."</p> + +<p>Plaistow Manor-house or Hall was a fine brick mansion, built in the +latter days of Tudor house architecture, with many gables and +countless high chimneys,—very picturesque to the eye, but not in all +respects comfortable as are the modern houses of the well-to-do +squirearchy of England. And, indeed, it was subject to certain +objectionable characteristics which in some degree justified the +scorn which Mr. Amedroz intended to throw upon it when he declared it +to be a farmhouse. The gardens belonging to it were large and +excellent; but they did not surround it, and allowed the farm +appurtenances to come close up to it on two sides. The door which +should have been the front door, opening from the largest room in the +house, which had been the hall and which was now the kitchen, led +directly into the farmyard. From the further end of this farm-yard a +magnificent avenue of elms stretched across the home pasture down to +a hedge which crossed it at the bottom. That there had been a road +through the rows of trees,—or, in other words, that there had in +truth been an avenue to the house on that side,—was, of course, +certain. But now there was no vestige of such road, and the front +entrance to Plaistow Hall was by a little path across the garden from +a modern road which had been made to run cruelly near to the house. +Such was Plaistow Hall, and such was its mistress. Of the master, the +reader, I hope, already knows so much as to need no further +description.</p> + +<p>As Belton drove himself home from the railway station late on that +August night, he made up his mind that he would tell his sister all +his story about Clara Amedroz. She had ever wished that he should +marry, and now he had made his attempt. Little as had been her +opportunity of learning the ways of men and women from experience in +society, she had always seemed to him to know exactly what every one +should do in every position of life. And she would be tender with +him, giving him comfort even if she could not give him hope. Moreover +Mary might be trusted with his secret; for Belton felt, as men always +do feel, a great repugnance to have it supposed that his suit to a +woman had been rejected. Women, when they have loved in vain, often +almost wish that their misfortune should be known. They love to talk +about their wounds mystically,—telling their own tales under feigned +names, and extracting something of a bitter sweetness out of the +sadness of their own romance. But a man, when he has been +rejected,—rejected with a finality that is acknowledged by +himself,—is unwilling to speak or hear a word upon the subject, and +would willingly wash the episode out from his heart if it were +possible.</p> + +<p>But not on that his first night would he begin to speak of Clara +Amedroz. He would not let his sister believe that his heart was too +full of the subject to allow of his thinking of other matters. Mary +was still up, waiting for him when he arrived, with tea, and cream, +and fruit ready for him. "Oh, Mary!" he said, "why are you not in +bed? You know that I would have come to you up-stairs." She excused +herself, smiling, declaring that she could not deny herself the +pleasure of being with him for half an hour on his first return from +his travels. "Of course I want to know what they are like," she said.</p> + +<p>"He is a nice-looking old man," said Will, "and she is a nice-looking +young woman."</p> + +<p>"That is graphic and short, at any rate."</p> + +<p>"And he is weak and silly, but she is strong +and—and—<span class="nowrap">and—"</span></p> + +<p>"Not silly also, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Anything but that. I should say she is very clever."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you don't like her, Will."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do."</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; really."</p> + +<p>"And did she take your coming well?"</p> + +<p>"Very well. I think she is much obliged to me for going."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Amedroz?"</p> + +<p>"He liked my coming too,—very much."</p> + +<p>"What;—after that cold letter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. I shall explain it all by degrees. I have taken a lease +of all the land, and I'm to go back at Christmas; and as to the old +gentleman,—he'd have me live there altogether if I would."</p> + +<p>"Why, Will?"</p> + +<p>"Is it not odd? I'm so glad I didn't make up my mind not to go when I +got that letter. And yet I don't know." These last words he added +slowly, and in a low voice, and Mary at once knew that everything was +not quite as it ought to be.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything wrong, Will?"</p> + +<p>"No, nothing wrong; that is to say, there is nothing to make me +regret that I went. I think I did some good to them."</p> + +<p>"It was to do good to them that you went there."</p> + +<p>"They wanted to have some one near them who could be to them as one +of their own family. He is too old,—too much worn out to be capable +of managing things; and the people there were, of course, robbing +him. I think I have put a stop to that."</p> + +<p>"And you are to go again at Christmas?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; they can do without me at my uncle's, and you will be there. I +have taken the land, and already bought some of the stock for it, and +am going to buy more."</p> + +<p>"I hope you won't lose money, Will."</p> + +<p>"No;—not ultimately, that is. I shall get the place in good +condition, and I shall have paid myself when he goes, in that way, if +in no other. Besides, what's a little money? I owe it to them for +robbing her of her inheritance."</p> + +<p>"You do not rob her, Will."</p> + +<p>"It is hard upon her, though."</p> + +<p>"Does she feel it hard?"</p> + +<p>"Whatever may be her feelings on such a matter, she is a woman much +too proud to show them."</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew whether you liked her or not."</p> + +<p>"I do like her,—I love her better than any one in the world; better +even than you, Mary; for I have asked her to be my wife."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Will!"</p> + +<p>"And she has refused me. Now you know the whole of it,—the whole +history of what I have done while I have been away." And he stood up +before her, with his thumbs thrust into the arm-holes of his +waistcoat, with something serious and almost solemn in his gait, in +spite of a smile which played about his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Will!"</p> + +<p>"I meant to have told you, of course, Mary,—to have told you +everything; but I did not mean to tell it to-night; only it has +somehow fallen from me. Out of the full heart the mouth speaks, they +say."</p> + +<p>"I never can like her if she refuses your love."</p> + +<p>"Why not? That is unlike you, Mary. Why should she be bound to love +me because I love her?"</p> + +<p>"Is there any one else, Will?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell? I did not ask her. I would not have asked her for +the world, though I would have given the world to know."</p> + +<p>"And she is so very beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"Beautiful! It isn't that so much;—though she is beautiful. +But,—but,—I can't tell you why,—but she is the only girl that I +ever saw who would suit me for a wife. Oh, dear!"</p> + +<p>"My own Will!"</p> + +<p>"But I'm not going to keep you up all night, Mary. And I'll tell you +something else; I'm not going to break my heart for love. And I'll +tell you something else again; I'm not going to give it up yet. I +believe I've been a fool. Indeed, I know I've been a fool. I went +about it just as if I were buying a horse, and had told the seller +that that was my price,—he might take it or leave it. What right had +I to suppose that any girl was to be had in that way; much less such +a girl as Clara Amedroz?"</p> + +<p>"It would have been a great match for her."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that, Mary. Her education has been different from +mine, and it may well be that she should marry above me. But I swear +I will not speak another word to you to-night. To-morrow, if you're +well enough, I'll talk to you all day." Soon after that he did get +her to go up to her room, though, of course, he broke that oath of +his as to not speaking another word. After that he walked out by +moonlight round the house, wandering about the garden and farmyard, +and down through the avenue, having in his own mind some pretence of +the watchfulness of ownership, but thinking little of his property +and much of his love. Here was a thing that he desired with all his +heart, but it seemed to be out of his reach,—absolutely out of his +reach. He was sick and weary with a feeling of longing,—sick with +that covetousness wherewith Ahab coveted the vineyard of Naboth. What +was the world to him if he could not have this thing on which he had +set his heart? He had told his sister that he would not break his +heart; and so much, he did not doubt, would be true. A man or woman +with a broken heart was in his estimation a man or woman who should +die of love; and he did not look for such a fate as that. But he +experienced the palpable misery of a craving emptiness within his +breast, and did believe of himself that he never could again be in +comfort unless he could succeed with Clara Amedroz. He stood leaning +against one of the trees, striking his hands together, and angry with +himself at the weakness which had reduced him to such a state. What +could any man be worth who was so little master of himself as he had +now become?</p> + +<p>After awhile he made his way back through the farmyard, and in at the +kitchen door, which he locked and bolted; and then, throwing himself +down into a wooden arm-chair which always stood there, in the corner +of the huge hearth, he took a short pipe from the mantelpiece, filled +it with tobacco, and lighting it almost unconsciously, began to smoke +with vehemence. Plaistow Hall was already odious to him, and he +longed to be back at Belton, which he had left only that morning. +Yes, on that very morning she had brought to him his coffee, looking +sweetly into his face,—so sweetly as she ministered to him. And he +might then well have said one word more in pleading his suit, if he +had not been too awkward to know what that word should be. And was it +not his own awkwardness that had brought him to this state of misery? +What right had he to suppose that any girl should fall in love with +such a one as he at first sight,—without a moment's notice to her +own heart? And then, when he had her there, almost in his arms, why +had he let her go without kissing her? It seemed to him now that if +he might have once kissed her, even that would have been a comfort to +him in his present affliction. +<span class="nowrap">"D——tion!"</span> +he said at last, as he +jumped to his feet and kicked the chair on one side, and threw the +pipe among the ashes. I trust it will be understood that he addressed +himself, and not his lady-love in this uncivil +way,—<span class="nowrap">"D——tion!"</span> +Then when the chair had been well kicked out of his way, he took +himself up to bed. I wonder whether Clara's heart would have been +hardened or softened towards him had she heard the oath, and +understood all the thoughts and motives which had produced it.</p> + +<p>On the next morning poor Mary Belton was too ill to come down-stairs; +and as her brother spent his whole day out upon the farm, remaining +among reapers and wheat stacks till nine o'clock in the evening, +nothing was said about Clara on that day. Then there came a Sunday, +and it was a matter of course that the subject of which they both +were thinking should be discussed. Will went to church, and, as was +their custom on Sundays, they dined immediately on his return. Then, +as the afternoon was very warm, he took her out to a favourite seat +she had in the garden, and it became impossible that they could +longer abstain.</p> + +<p>"And you really mean to go again at Christmas?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly I shall;—I promised."</p> + +<p>"Then I am sure you will."</p> + +<p>"And I must go from time to time because of the land I have taken. +Indeed there seems to be an understanding that I am to manage the +property for Mr. Amedroz."</p> + +<p>"And does she wish you to go?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—she says so."</p> + +<p>"Girls, I believe, think sometimes that men are indifferent in their +love. They suppose that a man can forget it at once when he is not +accepted, and that things can go on just as before."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she thinks so of me," said Belton wofully.</p> + +<p>"She must either think that, or else be willing to give herself the +chance of learning to like you better."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing of that, I'm sure. She's as true as steel."</p> + +<p>"But she would hardly want you to go there unless she thought you +might overcome either your love or her indifference. She would not +wish you to be there that you might be miserable."</p> + +<p>"Before I had asked her to be my wife I had promised to be her +brother. And so I will, if she should ever want a brother. I am not +going to desert her because she will not do what I want her to do, or +be what I want her to be. She understands that. There is to be no +quarrel between us."</p> + +<p>"But she would be heartless if she were to encourage you to be with +her simply for the assistance you may give her, knowing at the same +time that you could not be happy in her presence."</p> + +<p>"She is not heartless."</p> + +<p>"Then she must suppose that you are."</p> + +<p>"I dare say she doesn't think that I care much about it. When I told +her, I did it all of a heap, you see; and I fancy she thought I was +just mad at the time."</p> + +<p>"And did you speak about it again?"</p> + +<p>"No; not a word. I shouldn't wonder if she hadn't forgotten it before +I went away."</p> + +<p>"That would be impossible."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't say so if you knew how it was done. It was all over in +half an hour; and she had given me such an answer that I thought I +had no right to say anything more about it. The morning when I left +her she did seem to be kinder."</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew whether she cares for any one else."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I so often think of that. But I couldn't ask her, you know. I +had no right to pry into her secrets. When I came away, she got up to +see me off; and I almost felt tempted to carry her into the gig and +drive her off."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that would have done, Will."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose anything will do. We all know what happens to the +child who cries for the top brick of the chimney. The child has to do +without it. The child goes to bed and forgets it; but I go to +bed,—and can't forget it."</p> + +<p>"My poor Will!"</p> + +<p>Then he got up and shook himself, and stalked about the +garden,—always keeping within a few yards of his sister's +chair,—and carried on a strong battle within his breast, struggling +to get the better of the weakness which his love produced, though +resolved that the love itself should be maintained.</p> + +<p>"I wish it wasn't Sunday," he said at last, "because then I could go +and do something. If I thought that no one would see me, I'd fill a +dung-cart or two, even though it is Sunday. I'll tell you what;—I'll +go and take a walk as far as Denvir Sluice; and I'll be back to tea. +You won't mind?"</p> + +<p>"Denvir Sluice is eight miles off."</p> + +<p>"Exactly,—I'll be there and back in something over three hours."</p> + +<p>"But, Will,—there's a broiling sun."</p> + +<p>"It will do me good. Anything that will take something out of me is +what I want. I know I ought to stay and read to you; but I couldn't +do it. I've got the fidgets inside, if you know what that means. To +have the big hay-rick on fire, or something of that sort, is what +would do me most good."</p> + +<p>Then he started, and did walk to Denvir Sluice and back in three +hours. The road from Plaistow Hall to Denvir Sluice was not in itself +interesting. It ran through a perfectly flat country, without a tree. +For the greater part of the way it was constructed on the top of a +great bank by the side of a broad dike, and for five miles its course +was straight as a line. A country walk less picturesque could hardly +be found in England. The road, too, was very dusty, and the sun was +hot above Belton's head as he walked. But nevertheless, he +persevered, going on till he struck his stick against the waterfall +which was called Denvir Sluice, and then returned,—not once +slackening his pace, and doing the whole distance at a rate somewhat +above five miles an hour. They used to say in the nursery that cold +pudding is good to settle a man's love; but the receipt which Belton +tried was a walk of sixteen miles, along a dusty road, after dinner, +in the middle of an August day.</p> + +<p>I think it did him some good. When he got back he took a long draught +of home-brewed beer, and then went up-stairs to dress himself.</p> + +<p>"What a state you are in," Mary said to him when he showed himself +for a moment in the sitting-room.</p> + +<p>"I did it from milestone to milestone in eleven minutes, backwards +and forwards, all along the five-mile reach."</p> + +<p>Then Mary knew from his answer that the exercise had been of service +to him, perceiving that he had been able to take an interest in his +own prowess as a walker.</p> + +<p>"I only hope you won't have a fever," she said.</p> + +<p>"The people who stand still are they who get fevers," he answered. +"Hard work never does harm to any one. If John Bowden would walk his +five miles an hour on a Sunday afternoon he wouldn't have the gout so +often."</p> + +<p>John Bowden was a neighbour in the next parish, and Mary was +delighted to find that her brother could take a pride in his +performance.</p> + +<p>By degrees Miss Belton began to know with some accuracy the way in +which Will had managed his affairs at Belton Castle, and was enabled +to give him salutary advice.</p> + +<p>"You see, Will," she said, "ladies are different from men in this, +that they cannot allow themselves to be in love so suddenly."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how a person is to help it. It isn't like jumping into a +river, which a person can do or not, just as he pleases."</p> + +<p>"But I fancy it is something like jumping into a river, and that a +person can help it. What the person can't help is being in when the +plunge has once been made."</p> + +<p>"No, by George! There's no getting out of that river."</p> + +<p>"And ladies don't take the plunge till they've had time to think what +may come after it. Perhaps you were a little too sudden with our +cousin Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I was. Of course I was a fool, and a brute too."</p> + +<p>"I know you were not a brute, and I don't think you were a fool; but +yet you were too sudden. You see a lady cannot always make up her +mind to love a man, merely because she is asked—all in a moment. She +should have a little time to think about it before she is called upon +for an answer."</p> + +<p>"And I didn't give her two minutes."</p> + +<p>"You never do give two minutes to anyone;—do you, Will? But you'll +be back there at Christmas, and then she will have had time to turn +you and it over in her mind."</p> + +<p>"And you think that I may have a chance?"</p> + +<p>"Certainty you may have a chance."</p> + +<p>"Although she was so sure about it?"</p> + +<p>"She spoke of her own mind and her own heart as she knew them then. +But it depends chiefly on this, Will,—whether there is any one else. +For anything we know, she may be engaged now."</p> + +<p>"Of course she may." Then Belton speculated on the extreme +probability of such a contingency; arguing within his own heart that +of course every unmarried man who might see Clara would want to marry +her, and that there could not but be some one whom even she would be +able to love.</p> + +<p>When he had been home about a fortnight, there came a letter to him +from Clara, which was a great treasure to him. In truth, it simply +told him of the completion of the cattle-shed, of her father's +health, and of the milk which the little cow gave; but she signed +herself his affectionate cousin, and the letter was very gratifying +to him. There were two lines of a postscript, which could not but +flatter him:—"Papa is so anxious for Christmas, that you may be here +again;—and so, indeed, am I also." Of course it will be understood +that this was written before Clara's visit to Perivale, and before +Mrs. Winterfield's death. Indeed, much happened in Clara's history +between the writing of that letter and Will Belton's winter visit to +the Castle.</p> + +<p>But Christmas came at last, all too slowly for Will;—and he started +on his journey. On this occasion he arranged to stay a week in +London, having a lawyer there whom he desired to see; and thinking, +perhaps, that a short time spent among the theatres might assist him +in his love troubles.</p> + + +<p><a name="c14" id="c14"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> +<h4>MR. WILLIAM BELTON TAKES A WALK IN LONDON.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>At the time of my story there was a certain Mr. Green, a worthy +attorney, who held chambers in Stone Buildings, Lincoln's Inn, much +to the profit of himself and family,—and to the profit and comfort +also of a numerous body of clients,—a man much respected in the +neighbourhood of Chancery Lane, and beloved, I do not doubt, in the +neighbourhood of Bushey, in which delightfully rural parish he was +possessed of a genteel villa and ornamental garden. With Mr. Green's +private residence we shall, I believe, have no further concern; but +to him at his chambers in Stone Buildings I must now introduce the +reader of these memoirs. He was a man not yet forty years of age, +with still much of the salt of youth about him, a pleasant companion +as well as a good lawyer, and one who knew men and things in London, +as it is given to pleasant clever fellows, such as Joseph Green, to +know them. Now Mr. Green, and his father before him, had been the +legal advisers of the Amedroz family, and our Mr. Joseph Green had +had but a bad time of it with Charles Amedroz in the last years of +that unfortunate young man's life. But lawyers endure these troubles, +submitting themselves to the extravagances, embarrassments, and even +villany of the bad subjects among their clients' families, with a +good-humoured patience that is truly wonderful. That, however, was +all over now as regarded Mr. Green and the Amedrozes, and he had +nothing further to do but to save for the father what relics of the +property he might secure. And he was also legal adviser to our friend +Will Belton, there having been some old family connection among them, +and had often endeavoured to impress upon his old client at Belton +Castle his own strong conviction that the heir was a generous fellow, +who might be trusted in everything. But this had been taken amiss by +the old squire, who, indeed, was too much disposed to take all things +amiss and to suspect everybody. "I understand," he had said to his +daughter. "I know all about it. Belton and Mr. Green have been dear +friends always. I can't trust my own lawyer any longer." In all which +the old squire showed much ingratitude. It will, however, be +understood that these suspicions were rife before the time of +Belton's visit to the family estate.</p> + +<p>Some four or five days before Christmas there came a visitor to Mr. +Green with whom the reader is acquainted, and who was no less a man +than the Member for Perivale. Captain Aylmer, when Clara parted from +him on the morning of her return to Belton Castle, had resolved that +he would repeat his offer of marriage by letter. A month had passed +by since then, and he had not as yet repeated it. But his intention +was not altered. He was a deliberate man, who did not do such things +quite as quickly as his rival, and who upon this occasion had thought +it prudent to turn over more than once in his mind all that he +proposed to do. Nor had he as yet taken any definite steps as to that +fifteen hundred pounds which he had promised to Clara in her aunt's +name, and which Clara had been, and was, so unwilling to receive. He +had now actually paid it over, having purchased government stock in +Clara's name for the amount, and had called upon Mr. Green, in order +that that gentleman, as Clara's lawyer, might make the necessary +communication to her.</p> + +<p>"I suppose there's nothing further to be done?" asked Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"Nothing further by me," said the lawyer. "Of course I shall write to +her, and explain that she must make arrangements as to the interest. +I am very glad that her aunt thought of her in her last moments."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Winterfield would have provided for her before, had she known +that everything had been swallowed up by that unfortunate young man."</p> + +<p>"All's well that ends well. Fifteen hundred pounds are better than +nothing."</p> + +<p>"Is it not enough?" said the Captain, blushing.</p> + +<p>"It isn't for me to have an opinion about that, Captain Aylmer. It +depends on the nature of the claim; and that again depends on the +relative position of the aunt and niece when they were alive +together."</p> + +<p>"You are aware that Miss Amedroz was not Mrs. Winterfield's niece?"</p> + +<p>"Do not think for a moment that I am criticising the amount of the +legacy. I am very glad of it, as, without it, there was literally no +provision,—no provision at all."</p> + +<p>"You will write to herself?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, certainly to herself. She is a better man of business than +her father;—and then this is her own, to do as she likes with it."</p> + +<p>"She can't refuse it, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Refuse it!"</p> + +<p>"Even though she did not wish to take it, it would be legally her +property, just as though it had been really left by the will?"</p> + +<p>"Well; I don't know. I dare say you could have resisted the payment. +But that has been made now, and there seems to be an end of it."</p> + +<p>At this moment a clerk entered the room and handed a card to his +employer. "Here's the heir himself," said Mr. Green.</p> + +<p>"What heir?"</p> + +<p>"Will Belton;—the heir of the property which Mr. Amedroz holds." +Captain Aylmer had soon explained that he was not personally +acquainted with Mr. William Belton; but, having heard much about him, +declared himself anxious to make the acquaintance. Our friend Will, +therefore, was ushered into the room, and the two rivals for Clara's +favour were introduced to each other. Each had heard much of the +other, and each had heard of the other from the same person. But +Captain Aylmer knew much more as to Belton than Belton knew in +respect to him. Aylmer knew that Belton had proposed to Clara and had +been rejected; and he knew also that Belton was now again going down +to Somersetshire.</p> + +<p>"You are to spend your Christmas, I believe, with our friends at +Belton Castle?" said the Captain.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—and am now on my way there. I believe you know them +also,—intimately." Then there was some explanation as to the +Winterfield connection, a few remarks as to the precarious state of +the old squire's health, a message or two from Captain Aylmer, which +of course were of no importance, and the Captain took his leave.</p> + +<p>Then Green and Belton became very comfortably intimate in their +conversation, calling each other Will and Joe,—for they were old and +close friends. And they discussed matters in that cozy tone of +confidential intercourse which is so directly at variance with the +tones used by men when they ordinarily talk of business. "He has +brought me good news for your friend, Miss Amedroz," said the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"What good news?"</p> + +<p>"That aunt of hers left her fifteen hundred pounds, after all. Or +rather, she did not leave it, but desired on her death-bed that it +might be given."</p> + +<p>"That's the same thing, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Oh quite;—that is to say, it's the same thing if the person who has +to hand over the money does not dispute the legacy. But it shows how +the old lady's conscience pricked her at last. And after all it was a +shabby sum, and should have been three times as much."</p> + +<p>"Fifteen hundred pounds! And that is all she will have when her +father dies?"</p> + +<p>"Every farthing, Will. You'll take all the rest."</p> + +<p>"I wish she wasn't going to have that."</p> + +<p>"Why? Why on earth should you of all men grudge her such a moderate +maintenance, seeing that you have not got to pay it?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't a maintenance. How could it be a maintenance for such as +her? What sort of maintenance would it be?"</p> + +<p>"Much better than nothing. And so you would feel if she were your +daughter."</p> + +<p>"She shall be my daughter, or my sister, or whatever you like to call +her. You don't think that I'll take the whole estate and leave her to +starve on the interest of fifteen hundred pounds a year!"</p> + +<p>"You'd better make her your wife at once, Will."</p> + +<p>Will Belton blushed as he answered, "That, perhaps, would be easier +said than done. That is not in my power,—even if I should wish it. +But the other is in my power."</p> + +<p>"Will, take my advice, and don't make any romantic promises when you +are down at Belton. You'll be sure to regret them if you do. And you +should remember that in truth Miss Amedroz has no greater claim on +you than any other lady in the land."</p> + +<p>"Isn't she my cousin?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes. She is your cousin, but a distant one only; and I'm not +aware that cousinship gives any claim."</p> + +<p>"Who is she to have a claim on? I'm the nearest she has got. Besides, +am not I going to take all the property which ought to be hers?"</p> + +<p>"That's just it. There's no such ought in the case. The property is +as much your own as this poker is mine. That's exactly the mistake I +want you to guard against. If you liked her, and chose to marry her, +that would be all very well; presuming that you don't want to get +money in marriage."</p> + +<p>"I hate the idea of marrying for money."</p> + +<p>"All right. Then marry Miss Amedroz if you please. But don't make any +rash undertakings to be her father, or her brother, or her uncle, or +her aunt. Such romance always leads a man into trouble."</p> + +<p>"But I've done it already."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I've told her that I would be her brother, and that as long as I had +a shilling she should never want sixpence. And I mean it. And as for +what you say about romance and repenting it, that simply comes from +your being a lawyer."</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, Will."</p> + +<p>"If one goes to a chemist, of course one gets physic, and has to put +up with the bad smells."</p> + +<p>"Thank you again."</p> + +<p>"But the chemist may be a very good sort of fellow at home all the +same, and have a cupboard full of sweetmeats and a garden full of +flowers. However, the thing is done as far as I am concerned, and I +can almost find it in my heart to be sorry that Clara has got this +driblet of money. Fifteen hundred pounds! It would keep her out of +the workhouse, and that is about all."</p> + +<p>"If you knew how many ladies in her position would think that the +heavens had rained wealth upon them if some one would give them +fifteen hundred pounds!"</p> + +<p>"Very well. At any rate I won't take it away from her. And now I want +you to tell me something else. Do you remember a fellow we used to +know named Berdmore?"</p> + +<p>"Philip Berdmore?"</p> + +<p>"He may have been Philip, or Daniel, or Jeremiah, for anything I +know. But the man I mean was very much given to taking his liquor +freely."</p> + +<p>"That was Jack Berdmore, Philip's brother. Oh yes, I remember him. +He's dead now. He drank himself to death at last, out in India."</p> + +<p>"He was in the army?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—and what a pleasant fellow he was at times! I see Phil +constantly, and Phil's wife, but they never speak of Jack."</p> + +<p>"He got married, didn't he, after we used to see him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—he and Phil married sisters. It was a sad affair, that."</p> + +<p>"I remember being with him and her,—and the sister too, after they +were engaged, and he got so drunk that we were obliged to take him +away. There was a large party of us at Richmond, but I don't think +you were there."</p> + +<p>"But I heard of it."</p> + +<p>"And she was a Miss Vigo?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. I see the younger sister constantly. Phil isn't very rich, +and he's got a lot of children,—but he's very happy."</p> + +<p>"What became of the other sister?"</p> + +<p>"Of Jack's wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. What became of her?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't an idea. Something bad, I suppose, as they never speak of +her."</p> + +<p>"And how long is he dead?"</p> + +<p>"He died about three years since. I only knew it from Phil's telling +me that he was in mourning for him. Then he did speak of him for a +moment or two, and I came to know that he had carried on to the end +in the same way. If a fellow takes to drink in this country, he'll +never get cured in India."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not."</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"And now I want to find out something about his widow."</p> + +<p>"And why?"</p> + +<p>"Ah;—I'm not sure that I can tell you why. Indeed I'm sure that I +cannot. But still you might be able to assist me."</p> + +<p>"There were heaps of people who used to know the Vigos," said the +lawyer.</p> + +<p>"No end of people,—though I couldn't for the life of me say who any +of them were."</p> + +<p>"They used to come out in London with an aunt, but nobody knew much +about her. I fancy they had neither father nor mother."</p> + +<p>"They were very pretty."</p> + +<p>"And how well they danced! I don't think I ever knew a girl who +danced so pleasantly,—giving herself no airs, you know,—as Mary +Vigo."</p> + +<p>"Her name was Mary," said Belton, remembering that Mrs. Askerton's +name was also Mary.</p> + +<p>"Jack Berdmore married Mary."</p> + +<p>"Well now, Joe, you must find out for me what became of her. Was she +with her husband when he died?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody was with him. Phil told me so. No one, that is, but a young +lieutenant and his own servant. It was very sad. He had D.T., and all +that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"And where was she?"</p> + +<p>"At Jericho, for anything that I know."</p> + +<p>"Will you find out?" Then Mr. Joseph Green thought for a moment of +his capabilities in that line, and having made an engagement to dine +with his friend at his club on the evening before Will left London, +said at last that he thought he could find out through certain mutual +friends who had known the Berdmores in the old days. "But the fact +is," said the lawyer, "that the world is so good-natured,—instead of +being ill-natured, as people say,—that it always forgets those who +want to be forgotten."</p> + +<p>We must now go back for a few moments to Captain Aylmer and his +affairs. Having given a full month to the consideration of his +position as regarded Miss Amedroz, he made up his mind to two things. +In the first place, he would at once pay over to her the money which +was to be hers as her aunt's legacy, and then he would renew his +offer. To that latter determination he was guided by mixed +motives,—by motives which, when joined together, rarely fail to be +operative. His conscience told him that he ought to do so,—and then +the fact of her having, as it were, taken herself away from him, made +him again wish to possess her. And there was another cause which, +perhaps, operated in the same direction. He had consulted his mother, +and she had strongly advised him to have nothing further to do with +Miss Amedroz. Lady Aylmer abused her dead sister heartily for having +interfered in the matter, and endeavoured to prove to her son that he +was released from his promise by having in fact performed it. But on +this point his conscience interfered,—backed by his wishes,—and he +made his resolve as has been above stated. On leaving Mr. Green's +chambers he went to his own lodgings, and wrote his letter, as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Mount Street, December, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Clara</span>,</p> + +<p>When you parted from me at Perivale you said certain +things about our engagement which I have come to +understand better since then, than I did at the time. It +escaped from me that my dear aunt and I had had some +conversation about you, and that I had told her what was +my intention. Something was said about a promise, and I +think it was that word which made you unhappy. At such a +time as that, when I and my aunt were talking together, +and when she was, as she well knew, on her deathbed, +things will be said which would not be thought of in other +circumstances. I can only assure you now, that the promise +I gave her was a promise to do that which I had previously +resolved upon doing. If you can believe what I say on this +head, that ought to be sufficient to remove the feeling +which induced you to break our engagement.</p> + +<p>I now write to renew my offer to you, and to assure you +that I do so with my whole heart. You will forgive me if I +tell you that I cannot fail to remember, and always to +bear in my mind, the sweet assurances which you gave me of +your regard for myself. As I do not know that anything has +occurred to alter your opinion of me, I write this letter +in strong hope that it may be successful. I believe that +your fear was in respect to my affection for you, not as +to yours for me. If this was so, I can assure you that +there is no necessity for such fear.</p> + +<p>I need not tell you that I shall expect your answer with +great anxiety.</p> + +<p class="ind12">Yours most affectionately,</p> + +<p class="ind18"><span class="smallcaps">F. F. Aylmer</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">P.S. I have to-day caused +to be bought in your name Bank +Stock to the amount of fifteen hundred pounds, the amount +of the legacy coming to you from my aunt.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This letter, and that from Mr. Green respecting the money, both +reached Clara on the same morning. Now, having learned so much as to +the position of affairs at Belton Castle, we may return to Will and +his dinner engagement with Mr. Joseph Green.</p> + +<p>"And what have you heard about Mrs. Berdmore?" Belton asked, almost +as soon as the two men were together.</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew why you want to know."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to do anybody any harm."</p> + +<p>"Do you want to do anybody any good?"</p> + +<p>"Any good! I can't say that I want to do any particular good. The +truth is, I think I know where she is, and that she is living under a +false name."</p> + +<p>"Then you know more of her than I do."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything. I'm only in doubt. But as the lady I mean +lives near to friends of mine, I should like to know."</p> + +<p>"That you may expose her?"</p> + +<p>"No;—by no means. But I hate the idea of deceit. The truth is, that +any one living anywhere under a false name should be exposed,—or +should be made to assume their right name."</p> + +<p>"I find that Mrs. Berdmore left her husband some years before he +died. There was nothing in that to create wonder, for he was a man +with whom a woman could hardly continue to live. But I fear she left +him under protection that was injurious to her character."</p> + +<p>"And how long ago is that?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. Some years before his death."</p> + +<p>"And how long ago did he die?"</p> + +<p>"About three years since. My informant tells me that he believes she +has since married. Now you know all that I know." And Belton also +knew that Mrs. Askerton of the cottage was the Miss Vigo with whom he +had been acquainted in earlier years.</p> + +<p>After that they dined comfortably, and nothing passed between them +which need be recorded as essential to our story till the time came +for them to part. Then, when they were both standing at the club +door, the lawyer said a word or two which is essential. "So you're +off to-morrow?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I shall go down by the express."</p> + +<p>"I wish you a pleasant journey. By-the-by, I ought to tell you that +you won't have any trouble in being either father or mother, or uncle +or aunt to Miss Amedroz."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's no secret."</p> + +<p>"What's no secret?"</p> + +<p>"She's going to be married to Captain Aylmer."</p> + +<p>Then Will Belton started so violently, and assumed on a sudden so +manifest a look of anger, that his tale was at once told to Mr. +Green. "Who says so?" he asked. "I don't believe it."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it's true all the same, Will."</p> + +<p>"Who says it?"</p> + +<p>"Captain Aylmer was with me to-day, and he told me. He ought to be +good authority on such a subject."</p> + +<p>"He told you that he was going to marry Clara Amedroz?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"And what made him come to you, to tell you?"</p> + +<p>"There was a question about some money which he had paid to her, and +which, under existing circumstances, he thought it as well that he +should not pay. Matters of that kind are often necessarily told to +lawyers. But I should not have told it to you, Will, if I had not +thought that it was good news."</p> + +<p>"It is not good news," said Belton moodily.</p> + +<p>"At any rate, old fellow, my telling it will do no harm. You must +have learned it soon." And he put his hand kindly,—almost tenderly, +on the other's arm. But Belton moved himself away angrily. The wound +had been so lately inflicted that he could not as yet forgive the +hand that had seemed to strike him.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry that it should be so bad with you, Will."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by bad? It is not bad with me. It is very well with +me. Keep your pity for those who want it." Then he walked off by +himself across the broad street before the club door, leaving his +friend without a word of farewell, and made his way up into St. +James's Square, choosing, as was evident to Mr. Green, the first +street that would take him out of sight.</p> + +<p>"He's hit, and hit hard," said the lawyer, looking after him. "Poor +fellow! I might have guessed it from what he said. I never knew of +his caring for any woman before." Then Mr. Green put on his gloves +and went away home.</p> + +<p>We will now follow Will Belton into St. James's Square, and we shall +follow a very unhappy gentleman. Doubtless he had hitherto known and +appreciated the fact that Miss Amedroz had refused his offer, and had +often declared, both to himself and to his sister, his conviction +that that refusal would never be reversed. But, in spite of that +expressed conviction, he had lived on hope. Till she belonged to +another man she might yet be his. He might win her at last by +perseverance. At any rate he had it in his power to work towards the +desired end, and might find solace even in that working. And the +misery of his loss would not be so great to him,—as he found himself +forced to confess to himself before he had completed his wanderings +on this night,—in not having her for his own, as it would be in +knowing that she had given herself to another man. He had often told +himself that of course she would become the wife of some man, but he +had never yet realised to himself what it would be to know that she +was the wife of any one specified rival. He had been sad enough on +that moonlight night in the avenue at Plaistow,—when he had leaned +against the tree, striking his hands together as he thought of his +great want; but his unhappiness then had been as nothing to his agony +now. Now it was all over,—and he knew the man who had supplanted +him!</p> + +<p>How he hated him! With what an unchristian spirit did he regard that +worthy captain as he walked across St. James's Square, across Jermyn +Street, across Piccadilly, and up Bond Street, not knowing whither he +was going. He thought with an intense regret of the laws of modern +society which forbid duelling,—forgetting altogether that even had +the old law prevailed, the conduct of the man whom he so hated would +have afforded him no <i>casus belli</i>. But he was too far gone in misery +and animosity to be capable of any reason on the matter. Captain +Aylmer had interfered with his dearest wishes, and during this now +passing hour he would willingly have crucified Captain Aylmer had it +been within his power to do so. Till he had gone beyond Oxford +Street, and had wandered away into the far distance of Portman Square +and Baker Street, he had not begun to think of any interest which +Clara Amedroz might have in the matter on which his thoughts were +employed. He was sojourning at an hotel in Bond Street, and had gone +thitherwards more by habit than by thought; but he had passed the +door of his inn, feeling it to be impossible to render himself up to +his bed in his present disturbed mood. As he was passing the house in +Bond Street he had been intent on the destruction of Captain +Aylmer,—and had almost determined that if Captain Aylmer could not +be made to vanish into eternity, he must make up his mind to go that +road himself.</p> + +<p>It was out of the question that he should go down to Belton. As to +that he had come to a very decided opinion by the time that he had +crossed Oxford Street. Go down to see her, when she had treated him +after this fashion! No, indeed. She wanted no brother now. She had +chosen to trust herself to this other man, and he, Will Belton, would +not interfere further in her affairs. Then he drew upon his +imagination for a picture of the future, in which he portrayed +Captain Aylmer as a ruined man, who would probably desert his wife, +and make himself generally odious to all his acquaintance—a picture +as to the realisation of which I am bound to say that Captain +Aylmer's antecedents gave no probability. But it was the looking at +this self-drawn picture which first softened the artist's heart +towards the victim whom he had immolated on his imaginary canvas. +When Clara should be ruined by the baseness and villany and general +scampishness of this man whom she was going to marry,—to whom she +was about to be weak enough and fool enough to trust herself,—then +he would interpose and be her brother once again,—a broken-hearted +brother no doubt, but a brother efficacious to keep the wolf from the +door of this poor woman and her—children. Then, as he thus created +Captain Aylmer's embryo family of unprovided orphans,—for after a +while he killed the captain, making him to die some death that was +very disgraceful, but not very distinct even to his own +imagination,—as he thought of those coming pledges of a love which +was to him so bitter, he stormed about the streets, performing antics +of which no one would have believed him capable, who had known him as +the thriving Mr. William Belton, of Plaistow Hall, among the fens of +Norfolk.</p> + +<p>But the character of a man is not to be judged from the pictures +which he may draw or from the antics which he may play in his +solitary hours. Those who act generally with the most consummate +wisdom in the affairs of the world, often meditate very silly doings +before their wiser resolutions form themselves. I beg, therefore, +that Mr. Belton may be regarded and criticised in accordance with his +conduct on the following morning,—when his midnight rambles, which +finally took him even beyond the New Road, had been followed by a few +tranquil hours in his Bond Street bedroom:—for at last he did bring +himself to return thither and put himself to bed after the usual +fashion. He put himself to bed in a spirit somewhat tranquillised by +the exercise of the night, and at last—wept himself to sleep like a +baby.</p> + +<p>But he was by no means like a baby when he took him early on the +following morning to the Paddington Station, and booked himself +manfully for Taunton. He had had time to recognise the fact that he +had no ground of quarrel with his cousin because she had preferred +another man to him. This had happened to him as he was recrossing the +New Road about two o'clock, and was beginning to find that his legs +were weary under him. And, indeed, he had recognised one or two +things before he had gone to sleep with his tears dripping on to his +pillow. In the first place, he had ill-treated Joe Green, and had +made a fool of himself in his friend's presence. As Joe Green was a +sensible, kind-hearted fellow, this did not much signify;—but not on +that account did he omit to tell himself of his own fault. Then he +discovered that it would ill become him to break his word to Mr. +Amedroz and to his daughter, and to do so without a word of excuse, +because Clara had exercised a right which was indisputably her own. +He had undertaken certain work at Belton which required his presence, +and he would go down and do his work as though nothing had occurred +to disturb him. To remain away because of this misfortune would be to +show the white feather. It would be unmanly. All this he recognised +as the pictures he had painted faded away from their canvases. As to +Captain Aylmer himself, he hoped that he might never be called upon +to meet him. He still hoped that, even as he was resolutely cramming +his shirts into his portmanteau before he began his journey. His +cousin Clara he thought he could meet, and tender to her some +expression of good wishes as to her future life, without giving way +under the effort. And to the old squire he could endeavour to make +himself pleasant, speaking of the relief from all trouble which this +marriage with Captain Aylmer would afford,—for now, in his cooler +moments, he could perceive that Captain Aylmer was not a man apt to +ruin himself, or his wife and children. But to Captain Aylmer +himself, he could not bring himself to say pleasant things or to +express pleasant wishes. She who was to be Captain Aylmer's wife, who +loved him, would of course have told him what had occurred up among +the rocks in Belton Park; and if that was so, any meeting between +Will and Captain Aylmer would be death to the former.</p> + +<p>Thinking of all this he journeyed down to Taunton, and thinking of +all this he made his way from Taunton across to Belton Park.</p> + + +<p><a name="c15" id="c15"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> +<h4>EVIL WORDS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Clara Amedroz had received her two letters together,—that, namely, +from the attorney, and that from Captain Aylmer,—and the result of +those letters is already known. She accepted her lover's renewed +offer of marriage, acknowledging the force of his logic, and putting +faith in the strength of his assurances. This she did without seeking +advice from any one. Who was there from whom she could seek advice on +such a matter as that?—who, at least, was there at Belton? That her +father would, as a matter of course, bid her accept Captain Aylmer, +was, she thought, certain; and she knew well that Mrs. Askerton would +do the same. She asked no counsel from any one, but taking the two +letters up to her own room, sat down to consider them. That which +referred to her aunt's money, together with the postscript in Captain +Aylmer's letter on the same subject, would be of the least possible +moment if she could bring herself to give a favourable answer to the +other proposition. But should she not be able to do this,—should she +hesitate as to doing so at once,—then she must write to the lawyer +in very strong terms, refusing altogether to have anything to do with +the money. And in such a case as this, not a word could she say to +her father either on one subject or on the other.</p> + +<p>But why should she not accept the offer made to her? Captain Aylmer +declared that he had determined to ask her to be his wife before he +had made any promise to Mrs. Winterfield. If this were in truth so, +then the very ground on which she had separated herself from him +would be removed. Why should she hesitate in acknowledging to herself +that she loved the man and believed him to be true? So she sat +herself down and answered both the letters,—writing to the lawyer +first. To him she said that nothing need be done about the money or +the interest till he should see or hear from Captain Aylmer again. +Then to Captain Aylmer she wrote very shortly, but very openly,—with +the same ill-judged candour which her spoken words to him had +displayed. Of course she would be his; his without hesitation, now +that she knew that he expressed his own wishes, and not merely those +of his aunt. "As to the money," she said, "it would be simply +nonsense now for us to have any talk of money. It is yours in any +way, and you had better manage about it as you please. I have written +an ambiguous letter to Mr. Green, which will simply plague him, and +which you may go and see if you like." Then she added her postscript, +in which she said that she should now at once tell her father, as the +news would remove from his mind all solicitude as to her future +position. That Captain Aylmer did go to Mr. Green we already know, +and we know also that he told Mr. Green of his intended marriage.</p> + +<p>Nothing was said by Captain Aylmer as to any proposed period for +their marriage; but that was only natural. It was not probable that +any man would name a day till he knew whether or not he was accepted. +Indeed, Clara, on thinking over the whole affair, was now disposed to +find fault rather with herself than with her lover, and forgetting +his coldness and formality at Perivale, remembered only the fact of +his offer to her, and his assurance now received that he had intended +to make it before the scene which had taken place between him and his +aunt. She did find fault with herself, telling herself that she had +quarrelled with him without sufficient cause;—and the eager, loving +candour of her letter to him was attributable to those +self-accusations.</p> + +<p>"Papa," she said, after the postman had gone away from Belton, so +that there might be no possibility of any recall of her letter, "I +have something to tell you which I hope will give you pleasure."</p> + +<p>"It isn't often that I hear anything of that kind," said he.</p> + +<p>"But I think that this will give you pleasure. I do indeed. I am +going to be married."</p> + +<p>"Going to what?"</p> + +<p>"Going to be married, papa. That is, if I have your leave. Of course +any offer of that kind that I have accepted is subject to your +approval."</p> + +<p>"And I have been told nothing about it!"</p> + +<p>"It began at Perivale, and I could not tell you then. You do not ask +me who is to be my husband."</p> + +<p>"It is not Will Belton?"</p> + +<p>"Poor Will! No; it is not Will. It is Frederic Aylmer. I think you +would prefer him as a son-in-law even to my cousin Will."</p> + +<p>"No I shouldn't. Why should I prefer a man whom I don't even know, +who lives in London, and who will take you away, so that I shall +never see you again?"</p> + +<p>"Dear papa;—don't speak of it in that way. I thought you would be +glad to know that I was to be so—so—so happy!"</p> + +<p>"But why is it to be done this way,—of a sudden? Why didn't he come +to me? Will came to me the very first thing."</p> + +<p>"He couldn't come all the way to Belton very well;—particularly as +he does not know you."</p> + +<p>"Will came here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, don't make difficulties. Of course that was different. He +was here when he first thought of it. And even then he didn't think +very much about it."</p> + +<p>"He did all that he could, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes. I don't know how that might be." And Clara almost +laughed as she felt the difficulties into which she was creeping. +"Dear Will. He is much better as a cousin than as a husband."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that at all. Captain Aylmer will not have the Belton +estate or Plaistow Hall."</p> + +<p>"Surely he is well enough off to take care of a wife. He will have +the whole of the Perivale estate, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about it. According to my ideas of what is +proper he should have spoken to me first. If he could not come he +might have written. No doubt my ideas may be old-fashioned, and I'm +told that Captain Aylmer is a fashionable young man."</p> + +<p>"Indeed he is not, papa. He is a hard-working member of Parliament."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that he is any better for that. People seem to think +that if a man is a member of Parliament he may do what he pleases. +There is Thompson, the member for Minehead, who has bought some sort +of place out by the moors. I never saw so vulgar, pig-headed a fellow +in my life. Being in Parliament used to be something when I was +young, but it won't make a man a gentleman now-a-days. It seems to me +that none but brewers, and tallow-chandlers, and lawyers go into +Parliament now. Will Belton could go into Parliament if he pleased, +but he knows better than that. He won't make himself such a fool."</p> + +<p>This was not comfortable to Clara; but she knew her father, and +allowed him to go on with his grumbling. He would come round by +degrees, and he would appreciate, if he could not be induced to +acknowledge, the wisdom of the step she was about to take.</p> + +<p>"When is it to be?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing of that kind has ever been mentioned, papa."</p> + +<p>"It had better be soon, if I am to have anything to do with it." Now +it was certainly the case that the old man was very ill. He had not +been out of the house since Clara had returned home; and, though he +was always grumbling about his food, he could hardly be induced to +eat anything when the morsels for which he expressed a wish were got +for him.</p> + +<p>"Of course you will be consulted, papa, before anything is settled."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be in anybody's way, my dear."</p> + +<p>"And may I tell Frederic that you have given your consent?"</p> + +<p>"What's the use of my consenting or not consenting? If you had been +anxious to oblige me you would have taken your cousin Will."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, how could I accept a man I didn't love?"</p> + +<p>"You seemed to me to be very fond of him at first; and I must say, I +thought he was ill-treated."</p> + +<p>"Papa, papa; do not say such things as that to me!"</p> + +<p>"What am I to do? You tell me, and I can't altogether hold my +tongue." Then there was a pause. "Well, my dear, as for my consent, +of course you may have it,—if it's worth anything. I don't know that +I ever heard anything bad about Captain Aylmer."</p> + +<p>He had heard nothing bad about Captain Aylmer! Clara, as she left her +father, felt that this was very grievous. Whatever cause she might +have had for discontent with her lover, she could not but be aware +that he was a man whom any father might be proud to welcome as a +suitor for his daughter. He was a man as to whom no ill tales had +ever been told;—who had never been known to do anything wrong or +imprudent; who had always been more than respectable, and as to whose +worldly position no exception could be taken. She had been entitled +to expect her father's warmest congratulations, and her tidings had +been received as though she had proposed to give her hand to one +whose character and position only just made it not imperative on the +father to withhold his consent! All this was hard, and feeling it to +be so, she went up-stairs, all alone, and cried bitterly as she +thought of it.</p> + +<p>On the next day she went down to the cottage and saw Mrs. Askerton. +She went there with the express purpose of telling her friend of her +engagement,—desirous of obtaining in that quarter the sympathy which +her father declined to give her. Had her communication to him been +accepted in a different spirit, she might probably have kept her +secret from Mrs. Askerton till something further had been fixed about +her marriage; but she was in want of a few kind words, and pined for +some of that encouragement which ladies in love usually wish to +receive, at any rate from some one chosen friend. But when she found +herself alone with Mrs. Askerton she hardly knew how to tell her +news; and at first could not tell it at all, as that lady was eager +in speaking on another subject.</p> + +<p>"When do you expect your cousin?" Mrs. Askerton asked, almost as soon +as Clara was seated.</p> + +<p>"The day after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And he is in London now?"</p> + +<p>"He may be. I dare say he is. But I don't know anything about it."</p> + +<p>"I can tell you then that he is. Colonel Askerton has heard of his +being there."</p> + +<p>"You seem to speak of it as though there were some offence in it. Is +there any reason why he should not be in London if he pleases?"</p> + +<p>"None in the least. I would much rather that he should be there than +here."</p> + +<p>"Why so? Will his coming hurt you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like him. I don't like him at all;—and now you know the +truth. You believe in him;—I don't. You think him to be a fine +fellow and a gentleman, whereas I don't think him to be either."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Askerton!"</p> + +<p>"This is strong language, I know."</p> + +<p>"Very strong language."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear; but the truth is, Clara, that you and I, living +together here this sort of hermit's life, each seeing so much of the +other and seeing nothing of anybody else, must either be real +friends, telling each other what we think, or we must be nothing. We +can't go on with the ordinary make-believes of society, saying little +civil speeches and not going beyond them. Therefore I have made up my +mind to tell you in plain language that I don't like your cousin, and +don't believe in him."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by believing in a man."</p> + +<p>"I believe in you. Sometimes I have thought that you believe in me, +and sometimes I have feared that you do not. I think that you are +good, and honest, and true; and therefore I like to see your face and +hear your voice,—though it is not often that you say very pleasant +things to me."</p> + +<p>"Do I say unpleasant things?"</p> + +<p>"I am not going to quarrel with you,—not if I can help it. What +business has Mr. Belton to go about London making inquiries as to me? +What have I done to him, that he should honour me so far?"</p> + +<p>"Has he made inquiries?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he has. If you have been contented with me as I am,—if you are +satisfied, why should he want to learn more? If you have any question +to ask me I will answer it. But what right can he have to be asking +questions among strangers?"</p> + +<p>Clara had no question to ask, and yet she could not say that she was +satisfied. She would have been better satisfied to have known more of +Mrs. Askerton, but yet she had never condescended to make inquiries +about her friend. But her curiosity was now greatly raised; and, +indeed, Mrs. Askerton's manner was so strange, her vehemence so +unusual, and her eagerness to rush into dangerous subjects so unlike +her usual tranquillity in conversation, that Clara did not know how +to answer her.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of any questioning," she said.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you don't. Had I thought you did, much as I love +you,—valuable as your society is to me down in this desert,—I would +never speak to you again. But remember,—if you want to ask any +questions, and will ask them of me,—of me,—I will answer them, and +will not be angry."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to ask any questions."</p> + +<p>"You may some day; and then you can remember what I say."</p> + +<p>"And am I to understand that you are determined to quarrel with my +cousin Will?"</p> + +<p>"Quarrel with him! I don't suppose that I shall see him. After what I +have said it is not probable that you will bring him here, and the +servant will have orders to say that I am not at home if he should +call. Luckily he and Colonel Askerton did not meet when he was here +before."</p> + +<p>"This is the most strange thing I ever heard in my life."</p> + +<p>"You will understand it better, my dear, when he makes his +communication to you."</p> + +<p>"What communication?"</p> + +<p>"You'll find that he'll have a communication to make. He has been so +diligent and so sharp that he'll have a great deal to tell, I do not +doubt. Only, remember, Clara, that if anything that he tells you +makes any difference in your feelings towards me, I shall expect you +to come to me and say so openly. If he makes his statement, let me +make mine. I have a right to ask for that, after what I have +promised."</p> + +<p>"You may be sure that I will."</p> + +<p>"I want nothing more. I have no distrust in you,—none in the least. +I tell you that I believe in you. If you will do that, and will keep +Mr. William Belton out of my way during his visit to these parts, I +shall be satisfied." For some time past Mrs. Askerton had been +walking about the room, but, as she now finished speaking, she sat +herself down as though the subject was fully discussed and completed. +For a minute or two she made an effort to resume her usual +tranquillity of manner, and in doing so attempted to smile, as though +ridiculing her own energy. "I knew I should make a fool of myself +when you came," she said; "and now I have done it."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you have been a fool at all, but you may have been +mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear, we shall see. It's very odd what a dislike I +took to that man the first time I saw him."</p> + +<p>"And I am so fond of him!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he has cozened you as he has your father. I am only glad that +he did not succeed in cozening you further than he did. But I ought +to have known you better than to suppose you could give your heart of +hearts to one who <span class="nowrap">is—"</span></p> + +<p>"Do not abuse him any more."</p> + +<p>"Who is so very unlike the sort of people with whom you have lived. I +may, at any rate, say that."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that. I haven't lived much with any one yet,—except +papa, and my aunt, and you."</p> + +<p>"But you know a gentleman when you see him."</p> + +<p>"Come, Mrs. Askerton, I will not stand this. I thought you had done +with the subject, and now you begin again. I had come here on purpose +to tell you something of real importance,—that is, to me; but I must +go away without telling you, unless you will give over abusing my +cousin."</p> + +<p>"I will not say a word more about him,—not at present."</p> + +<p>"I feel so sure that you are mistaken, you know."</p> + +<p>"Very well;—and I feel sure that you are mistaken. We will leave it +so, and go to this matter of importance." But Clara felt it to be +very difficult to tell her tidings after such a conversation as that +which had just occurred. When she had entered the room her mind had +been tuned to the subject, and she could have found fitting words +without much difficulty to herself; but now her thoughts had been +scattered and her feelings hurt, and she did not know how to bring +herself back to the subject of her engagement. She paused, therefore, +and sat with a doubtful, hesitating look, meditating some mode of +escape. "I am all ears," said Mrs. Askerton; and Clara thought that +she discovered something of ridicule or of sarcasm in the tone of her +friend's voice.</p> + +<p>"I believe I'll put it off till another day," she said.</p> + +<p>"Why so? You don't think that anything really important to you will +not be important to me also?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure of that, but somehow—"</p> + +<p>"You mean to say that I have ruffled you?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—perhaps; a little."</p> + +<p>"Then be unruffled again, like my own dear, honest Clara. I have been +ruffled too, but I'll be as tranquil now as a drawing-room cat." Then +Mrs. Askerton got up from her chair, and seated herself by Clara's +side on the sofa. "Come; you can't go till you've told me; and if you +hesitate, I shall think that you mean to quarrel with me."</p> + +<p>"I'll come to you to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"No, no; you shall tell me to-day. All to-morrow you'll be preparing +for your cousin."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"Or else you'll come prepared to vindicate him, and then we shan't +get on any further. Tell me what it is to-day. You can't leave me in +curiosity after what you have said."</p> + +<p>"You've heard of Captain Aylmer, I think."</p> + +<p>"Of course I've heard of him."</p> + +<p>"But you've never seen him?"</p> + +<p>"You know I never have."</p> + +<p>"I told you that he was at Perivale when Mrs. Winterfield died."</p> + +<p>"And now he has proposed, and you are going to accept him? That will +indeed be important. Is it so?—say. But don't I know it is so? Why +don't you speak?"</p> + +<p>"If you know it, why need I speak?"</p> + +<p>"But it is so? Oh, Clara, I am so glad. I congratulate you with all +my heart,—with all my heart. My dearest, dearest Clara! What a happy +arrangement! What a success! It is just as it should be. Dear, good +man! to come forward in that sensible way, and put an end to all the +little family difficulties!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know so much about success. Who is it that is successful?"</p> + +<p>"You, to be sure."</p> + +<p>"Then by the same measurement he must be unsuccessful."</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, Clara."</p> + +<p>"Of course I have been successful if I've got a man that I can love +as my husband."</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear, don't be a fool. Of course all that is between you and +him, and I don't in the least doubt that it is all as it should be. +If Captain Aylmer had been the elder brother instead of the younger, +and had all the Aylmer estates instead of the Perivale property, I +know you would not accept him if you did not like him."</p> + +<p>"I hope not."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you would not. But when a girl with nothing a year has +managed to love a man with two or three thousand a year, and has +managed to be loved by him in return,—instead of going through the +same process with the curate or village doctor,—it is a success, and +her friends will always think so. And when a girl marries a +gentleman, and a member of Parliament, instead of—; well, I'm not +going to say anything personal,—her friends will congratulate her +upon his position. It may be very wicked, and mercenary, and all +that; but it's the way of the world."</p> + +<p>"I hate hearing about the world."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear; all proper young ladies like you do hate it. But I +observe that such girls as you never offend its prejudices. You can't +but know that you would have done a wicked as well as a foolish thing +to marry a man without an adequate income."</p> + +<p>"But I needn't marry at all."</p> + +<p>"And what would you live on then? Come Clara, we needn't quarrel +about that. I've no doubt he's charming, and beautiful, +<span class="nowrap">and—"</span></p> + +<p>"He isn't beautiful at all; and as for charming—"</p> + +<p>"He has charmed you at any rate."</p> + +<p>"He has made me believe that I can trust him without doubt, and love +him without fear."</p> + +<p>"An excellent man! And the income will be an additional comfort; +you'll allow that?"</p> + +<p>"I'll allow nothing."</p> + +<p>"And when is it to be?"</p> + +<p>"Oh,—perhaps in six or seven years."</p> + +<p>"Clara!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps sooner; but there's been no word said about time."</p> + +<p>"Is not Mr. Amedroz delighted?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. He quite scolded me when I told him."</p> + +<p>"Why;—what did he want?"</p> + +<p>"You know papa."</p> + +<p>"I know he scolds at everything, but I shouldn't have thought he +would have scolded at that. And when does he come here?"</p> + +<p>"Who come here?"</p> + +<p>"Captain Aylmer."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that he is coming at all."</p> + +<p>"He must come to be married."</p> + +<p>"All that is in the clouds as yet. I did not like to tell you, but +you mustn't suppose that because I've told you, everything is +settled. Nothing is settled."</p> + +<p>"Nothing except the one thing?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing else."</p> + +<p>It was more than an hour after that before Clara went away, and when +she did so she was surprised to find that she was followed out of the +house by Colonel Askerton. It was quite dusk at this time, the days +being just at their shortest, and Colonel Askerton, according to his +custom, would have been riding, or returning from his ride. Clara had +been over two hours at the cottage, and had been aware when she +reached it that he had not as yet gone out. It appeared now that he +had not ridden at all, and, as she remembered to have seen his horse +led before the window, it at once occurred to her that he had +remained at home with the view of catching her as she went away. He +came up to her just as she was passing through the gate, and offered +her his right hand as he raised his hat with his left. It sometimes +happens to all of us in life that we become acquainted with persons +intimately,—that is, with an assumed intimacy,—whom in truth we do +not know at all. We meet such persons frequently, often eating and +drinking in their company, being familiar with their appearance, and +well-informed generally as to their concerns; but we never find +ourselves holding special conversations with them, or in any way +fitting the modes of our life to the modes of their life. Accident +has brought us together, and in one sense they are our friends. We +should probably do any little kindness for them, or expect the same +from them; but there is nothing in common between us, and there is +generally a mutual though unexpressed agreement that there shall be +nothing in common. Miss Amedroz was intimately acquainted with +Colonel Askerton after this fashion. She saw him very frequently, and +his name was often on her tongue; but she rarely, if ever, conversed +with him, and knew of his habits only from his wife's words +respecting them. When, therefore, he followed her through the garden +gate into the park, she was driven to suppose that he had something +special to say to her.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you'll have a dark walk, Miss Amedroz," he said.</p> + +<p>"It's only just across the park, and I know the way so well."</p> + +<p>"Yes,—of course. I saw you coming out, and as I want to say a word +or two, I have ventured to follow you. When Mr. Belton was down here +I did not have the pleasure of meeting him."</p> + +<p>"I remember that you missed each other."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we did. I understand from my wife that he will be here again in +a day or two."</p> + +<p>"He will be with us the day after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will excuse my saying that it will be very desirable that +we should miss each other again." Clara felt that her face became red +with anger as she listened to Colonel Askerton's words. He spoke +slowly, as was his custom, and without any of that violence of +expression which his wife had used; but on that very account there +was more, if possible, of meaning in his words than in hers. William +Belton was her cousin, and such a speech as that which Colonel +Askerton had made, spoken with deliberation and unaccompanied by any +previous explanation, seemed to her almost to amount to insult. But +as she did not know how to answer him at the spur of the moment, she +remained silent. Then he continued, "You may be sure, Miss Amedroz, +that I should not make so strange a request to you if I had not good +reason for making it."</p> + +<p>"I think it a very strange request."</p> + +<p>"And nothing but a strong conviction of its propriety on my part +would have induced me to make it."</p> + +<p>"If you do not want to see my cousin, why cannot you avoid him +without saying anything to me on the subject?"</p> + +<p>"Because you would not then have understood as thoroughly as I wish +you to do why I kept out of his way. For my wife's sake,—and for +yours, if you will allow me to say so,—I do not wish to come to any +open quarrel with him; but if we met, a quarrel would, I think, be +inevitable. Mary has probably explained to you the nature of his +offence against us?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Askerton has told me something as to which I am quite sure that +she is mistaken."</p> + +<p>"I will say nothing about that, as I have no wish at all to set you +against your cousin. I will bid you good-night now as you are close +at home." Then he turned round and left her.</p> + +<p>Clara, as she thought of all this, could not but call to mind her +cousin's remembrances about Miss Vigo and Mr. Berdmore. What if he +made some inquiry as to the correctness of his old recollections? +Nothing, she thought, could be more natural. And then she reflected +that, in the ordinary way of the world, persons feel none of that +violent objection to the asking of questions about their antecedents +which was now evinced by both Colonel and Mrs. Askerton. But of one +thing she felt quite assured,—that her cousin, Will Belton, would +make no inquiry which he ought not to make; and would make no +improper use of any information which he might obtain.</p> + + +<p><a name="c16" id="c16"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> +<h4>THE HEIR'S SECOND VISIT TO BELTON.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Clara began to doubt whether any possible arrangement of the +circumstances of her life could be regarded as fortunate. She was +very fond, in a different degree and after a different fashion, of +both Captain Aylmer and Mr. Belton. As regarded both, her position +was now exactly what she herself would have wished. The man that she +loved was betrothed to her, and the other man, whom she loved indeed +also as a brother, was coming to her in that guise,—with the +understanding that that was to be his position. And yet everything +was going wrong! Her father, though he did not actually say anything +against Captain Aylmer, showed by a hundred little signs, of which he +was a skilful master, that the Aylmer alliance was distasteful to +him, and that he thought himself to be aggrieved in that his daughter +would not marry her cousin; whereas, over at the cottage, there was a +still more bitter feeling against Mr. Belton—a feeling so bitter, +that it almost induced Clara to wish that her cousin was not coming +to them.</p> + +<p>But the cousin did come, and was driven up to the door in the gig +from Taunton, just as had been the case on his previous visit. Then, +however, he had come in the full daylight, and the hay-carts had been +about, and all the prettiness and warmth of summer had been there; +now it was mid-winter, and there had been some slight beginnings of +snow, and the wind was moaning about the old tower, and the outside +of the house looked very unpleasant from the hall-door. As it had +become dusk in the afternoon, the old squire had been very careful in +his orders as to preparations for Will's comfort,—as though Clara +would have forgotten all those things in the preoccupation of her +mind, caused by the constancy of her thoughts towards Will's rival. +He even went so far as to creep across the up-stairs landing-place to +see that the fire was lighted in Will's room, this being the first +time that he had left his chamber for many days,—and had given +special orders as to the food which was to be prepared for Will's +dinner,—in a very different spirit from that which had dictated some +former orders when Will was about to make his first visit, and when +his coming had been regarded by the old man as a heartless, +indelicate, and almost hostile proceeding.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could go down to receive him," said Mr. Amedroz, +plaintively. "I hope he won't take it amiss."</p> + +<p>"You may be sure he won't do that."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I can to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Dear papa, you had better not think of it till the weather is +milder."</p> + +<p>"Milder! how is it to get milder at this time of the year?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he'll come up to you, papa."</p> + +<p>"He's very good. I know he's very good. No one else would do as +much."</p> + +<p>Clara understood accurately what all this meant. Of course she was +glad that her father should feel so kindly towards her cousin, and +think so much of his coming; but every word said by the old man in +praise of Will Belton implied an equal amount of dispraise as +regarded Captain Aylmer, and contained a reproach against his +daughter for having refused the former and accepted the latter.</p> + +<p>Clara was in the hall when Belton arrived, and received him as he +entered, enveloped in his damp great-coats. "It is so good of you to +come in such weather," she said.</p> + +<p>"Nice seasonable weather, I call it," he said. It was the same +comfortable, hearty, satisfactory voice which had done so much +towards making his way for him on his first arrival at Belton Castle. +The voices to which Clara was most accustomed were querulous,—as +though the world had been found by the owners of them to be but a bad +place. But Belton's voice seemed to speak of cheery days and happy +friends, and a general state of things which made life worth having. +Nevertheless, forty-eight hours had not yet passed over his head +since he was walking about London in such misery that he had almost +cursed the hour in which he was born. His misery still remained with +him, as black now as it had been then; and yet his voice was cheery. +The sick birds, we are told, creep into holes, that they may die +alone and unnoticed; and the wounded beasts hide themselves that +their grief may not be seen of their fellows. A man has the same +instinct to conceal the weakness of his sufferings; but, if he be a +man, he hides it in his own heart, keeping it for solitude and the +watches of the night, while to the outer world he carries a face on +which his care has made no marks.</p> + +<p>"You will be sorry to hear that papa is too ill to come down-stairs."</p> + +<p>"Is he, indeed? I am truly sorry. I had heard he was ill; but did not +know he was so ill as that."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he fancies himself weaker than he is."</p> + +<p>"We must try and cure him of that. I can see him, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, yes. He is most anxious for you to go to him. As soon as +ever you can come up-stairs I will take you." He had already stripped +himself of his wrappings, and declaring himself ready, at once +followed Clara to the squire's room.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, sir, to find you in this way," he said.</p> + +<p>"I'm very poorly, Will;—very," said the squire, putting out his hand +as though he were barely able to lift it above his knee. Now it +certainly was the fact that half an hour before he had been walking +across the passage.</p> + +<p>"We must see if we can't soon make you better among us," said Will.</p> + +<p>The squire shook his head with a slow, melancholy movement, not +raising his eyes from the ground. "I don't think you'll ever see me +much better, Will," he said. And yet half an hour since he had been +talking of being down in the dining-room on the next day. "I shan't +trouble you much longer," said the squire. "You'll soon have it all +without paying rent for it."</p> + +<p>This was very unpleasant, and almost frustrated Belton's attempts to +be cheery. But he persevered nevertheless. "It'll be a long time yet +before that day comes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Ah; that's easily said. But never mind. Why should I want to remain +when I shall have once seen her properly settled. I've nothing to +live for except that she may have a home."</p> + +<p>On this subject it was quite impossible that Belton should say +anything. Clara was standing by him, and she, as he knew, was engaged +to Captain Aylmer. So circumstanced, what could he say as to Clara's +settlement in life? That something should be said between him and the +old man, and something also between him and Clara, was a matter of +course; but it was quite out of the question that he should discuss +Clara's prospects in life in presence of them both together.</p> + +<p>"Papa's illness makes him a little melancholy," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Of course,—of course. It always does," said Will.</p> + +<p>"I think he will be better when the weather becomes milder," said +Clara.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I may be allowed to know how I feel myself," said the +squire. "But don't keep Will up here when he wants his dinner. There; +that'll do. You'd better leave me now." Then Will went out to his old +room, and a quarter of an hour afterwards he found himself seated +with Clara at the dinner-table; and a quarter of an hour after that +the dinner was over, and they had both drawn their chairs to the +fire.</p> + +<p>Neither of them knew how to begin with the other. Clara was under no +obligation to declare her engagement to her cousin, but yet she felt +that it would be unhandsome in her not to do so. Had Will never made +the mistake of wanting to marry her himself, she would have done so +as a matter of course. Had she supposed him to cherish any intention +of renewing that mistake she would have felt herself bound to tell +him,—so that he might save himself from unnecessary pain. But she +gave him credit for no such intention, and yet she could not but +remember that scene among the rocks. And then was she, or was she +not, to say anything to him about the Askertons? With him also the +difficulty was as great. He did not in truth believe that the tidings +which he had heard from his friend the lawyer required corroboration; +but yet it was necessary that he should know from herself that she +had disposed of her hand;—and it was necessary also that he should +say some word to her as to their future standing and friendship.</p> + +<p>"You must be very anxious to see how your farm goes on," said she.</p> + +<p>He had not thought much of his agricultural venture at Belton for the +last three or four days, and would hardly have been vexed had he been +told that every head of cattle about the place had died of the +murrain. Some general idea of the expediency of going on with a thing +which he had commenced still actuated him; but it was the principle +involved, and not the speculation itself, which interested him. But +he could not explain all this, and he therefore was driven to some +cold agreement with her. "The farm!—you mean the stock. Yes; I shall +go and have a look at them early to-morrow. I suppose they're all +alive."</p> + +<p>"Pudge says that they are doing uncommonly well." Pudge was a leading +man among the Belton labourers, whom Will had hired to look after his +concerns.</p> + +<p>"That's all right. I dare say Pudge knows quite as much about it as I +do."</p> + +<p>"But the master's eye is everything."</p> + +<p>"Pudge's eye is quite as good as mine; and probably much better, as +he knows the country."</p> + +<p>"You used to say that it was everything for a man to look after his +own interests."</p> + +<p>"And I do look after them. Pudge and I will go and have a look at +every beast to-morrow, and I shall look very wise and pretend to know +more about it than he does. In stock-farming the chief thing is not +to have too many beasts. They used to say that half-stocking was +whole profit, and whole-stocking was half profit. If the animals have +plenty to eat, and the rent isn't too high, they'll take care of +their owner."</p> + +<p>"But then there is so much illness."</p> + +<p>"I always insure."</p> + +<p>Clara perceived that the subject of the cattle didn't suit the +present occasion. When he had before been at Belton he had liked +nothing so much as talking about the cattle-sheds, and the land, and +the kind of animals which would suit the place; but now the novelty +of the thing was gone,—and the farmer did not wish to talk of his +farm. In her anxiety to find a topic which would not be painful, she +went from the cattle to the cow. "You can't think what a pet Bessy +has been with us. And she seems to think that she is privileged to go +everywhere, and do anything."</p> + +<p>"I hope they have taken care that she has had winter food."</p> + +<p>"Winter food! Why Pudge, and all the Pudges, and all the family in +the house, and all your cattle would have to want, before Bessy would +be allowed to miss a meal. Pudge always says, with his sententious +shake of the head, that the young squire was very particular about +Bessy."</p> + +<p>"Those Alderneys want a little care,—that's all."</p> + +<p>Bessy was of no better service to Clara in her present difficulty +than the less aristocratic herd of common cattle. There was a pause +for a moment, and then she began again. "How did you leave your +sister, Will?"</p> + +<p>"Much the same as usual. I think she has borne the first of the cold +weather better than she did last year."</p> + +<p>"I do so wish that I knew her."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will some day. But I don't suppose that you ever will."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"It's not likely that you'll ever come to Plaistow now;—and Mary +never leaves it except to go to my uncle's."</p> + +<p>Clara instantly knew that he had heard of her engagement, though she +could not imagine from what source he had heard it. There was +something in the tone of his voice,—something especially in the +expression of that word "now," which told her that it must be so. "I +should be so glad to go there if I could," she said, with that +special hypocrisy which belongs to women, and is allowed to them; +"but, of course, I cannot leave papa in his present state."</p> + +<p>"And if you did leave him you would not go to Plaistow."</p> + +<p>"Not unless you and Mary asked me."</p> + +<p>"And you wouldn't if we did. How could you?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Will? It seems as though you were almost savage to +me."</p> + +<p>"Am I? Well;—I feel savage, but not to you."</p> + +<p>"Nor to any one, I hope, belonging to me." She knew that it was all +coming; that the whole subject of her future life must now be +discussed; and she began to fear that the discussion might not be +easy. But she did not know how to give it a direction. She feared +that he would become angry, and yet she knew not why. He had accepted +his own rejection tranquilly, and could hardly take it as an offence +that she should now be engaged to Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Green has told me," said he, "that you are going to be married."</p> + +<p>"How could Mr. Green have known?"</p> + +<p>"He did know;—at least I suppose he knew, for he told me."</p> + +<p>"How very odd."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is true?" Clara did not make any immediate answer, and +then he repeated the question. "I suppose it is true?"</p> + +<p>"It is true that I am engaged."</p> + +<p>"To Captain Aylmer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; to Captain Aylmer. You know that I had known him very long. I +hope that you are not angry with me because I did not write and tell +you. Strange as it may seem, seeing that you had heard it already, it +is not a week yet since it was settled; and had I written to you, I +could only have addressed my letter to you here."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't thinking about that. I didn't specially want you to write +to me. What difference would it make?"</p> + +<p>"But I should have felt that I owed it to your kindness and +your—regard for me."</p> + +<p>"My regard! What's the use of regard?"</p> + +<p>"You are not going to quarrel with me, Will, +because—because—<span class="nowrap">because—.</span> If +you had really been my brother, as +you once said you would be, you could not but have approved of what I +have done."</p> + +<p>"But I am not your brother."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Will; that sounds so cruel!"</p> + +<p>"I am not your brother, and I have no right to approve or +disapprove."</p> + +<p>"I will not say that I could make my engagement with Captain Aylmer +dependent on your approval. It would not be fair to him to do so, and +it would put me into a false position."</p> + +<p>"Have I asked you to make any such absurd sacrifice?"</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, Will. I say that I could not do that. But, short of +that, there is nothing I would not do to satisfy you. I think so much +of your judgment and goodness, and so very much of your affection; I +love you so dearly, +<span class="nowrap">that—.</span> Oh, Will, +say a kind word to me!"</p> + +<p>"A kind word; yes, but what sort of kindness?"</p> + +<p>"You must know that Captain Aylmer—"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me of Captain Aylmer. Have I said anything against +him? Have I ventured to make any objection? Of course, I know his +superiority to myself. I know that he is a man of the world, and that +I am not; that he is educated, and that I am ignorant; that he has a +position, and that I have none; that he has much to offer, and that I +have nothing. Of course, I see the difference; but that does not make +me comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Will, I had learned to love him before I had ever seen you."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me so, that I might have known there was no +hope, and have gone away utterly,—out of the kingdom? If it was all +settled then, why didn't you tell me, and save me from breaking my +heart with false hopes?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing was settled then. I hardly knew my own mind; but yet I loved +him. There; cannot you understand it? Have I not told you enough?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I understand it."</p> + +<p>"And do you blame me?"</p> + +<p>He paused awhile before he answered her. "No; I do not blame you. I +suppose I must blame no one but myself. But you should bear with me. +I was so happy, and now I am so wretched."</p> + +<p>There was nothing that she could say to comfort him. She had +altogether mistaken the nature of the man's regard, and had even +mistaken the very nature of the man. So much she now learned, and +could tell herself that had she known him better she would either +have prevented this second visit, or would have been careful that he +should have learned the truth from herself before he came. Now she +could only wait till he should again have got strength to hide his +suffering under the veil of his own manliness.</p> + +<p>"I have not a word to say against what you are doing," he said at +last; "not a word. But you will understand what I mean when I tell +you that it is not likely that you will come to Plaistow."</p> + +<p>"Some day, Will, when you have a wife of your +<span class="nowrap">own—"</span></p> + +<p>"Very well; but we won't talk about that at present, if you please. +When I have, things will be different. In the meantime your course +and mine will be separate. You, I suppose, will be with him in +London, while I shall be,—at the devil as likely as not."</p> + +<p>"How can you speak to me in that way? Is that like being my brother?"</p> + +<p>"I don't feel like being your brother. However, I beg your pardon, +and now we will have done with it. Spilt milk can't be helped, and my +milk pans have got themselves knocked over. That's all. Don't you +think we ought to go up to your father again?"</p> + +<p>On the following day Belton and Mr. Amedroz discussed the same +subject, but the conversation went off very quietly. Will was +determined not to exhibit his weakness before the father as he had +done before the daughter. When the squire, with a maundering voice, +drawled out some expression of regret that his daughter's choice had +not fallen in another place, Will was able to say that bygones must +be bygones. He regretted it also, but that was now over. And when the +squire endeavoured to say a few ill-natured words about Captain +Aylmer, Will stopped him at once by asserting that the Captain was +all that he ought to be.</p> + +<p>"And it would have made me so happy to think that my daughter's child +should come to live in his grandfather's old house," murmured Mr. +Amedroz.</p> + +<p>"And there's no knowing that he mayn't do so yet," said Will. "But +all these things are so doubtful that a man is wrong to fix his +happiness upon them." After that he went out to ramble about the +place, and before the third day was over Clara was able to perceive +that, in spite of what he had said, he was as busy about the cattle +as though his bread depended on them.</p> + +<p>Nothing had been said as yet about the Askertons, and Clara had +resolved that their name should not first be mentioned by her. Mrs. +Askerton had prophesied that Will would have some communication to +make about herself, and Clara would at any rate see whether her +cousin would, of his own accord, introduce the subject. But three +days passed by, and he had made no allusion to the cottage or its +inhabitants. This in itself was singular, as the Askertons were the +only local friends whom Clara knew, and as Belton had become +personally acquainted with Mrs. Askerton. But such was the case; and +when Mr. Amedroz once said something about Mrs. Askerton in the +presence of both Clara and Belton, they both of them shrank from the +subject in a manner that made Clara understand that any conversation +about the Askertons was to be avoided. On the fourth day Clara saw +Mrs. Askerton, but then Will Belton's name was not mentioned. There +was therefore, among them all, a sense of some mystery which made +them uncomfortable, and which seemed to admit of no solution. Clara +was more sure than ever that her cousin had made no inquiries that he +should not have made, and that he would put no information that he +might have to an improper use. But of such certainty on her part she +could say nothing.</p> + +<p>Three weeks passed by, and it seemed as though Belton's visit were to +come to an end without any further open trouble. Now and then +something was said about Captain Aylmer; but it was very little, and +Belton made no further reference to his own feelings. It had come to +be understood that his visit was to be limited to a month; and to +both him and Clara the month wore itself away slowly, neither of them +having much pleasure in the society of the other. The old squire came +down-stairs once for an hour or two, and spent the whole time in +bitter complaints. Everything was wrong, and everybody was +ill-treating him. Even with Will he quarrelled, or did his best to +quarrel, in regard to everything about the place, though at the same +time he did not cease to grumble at his visitor for going away and +leaving him. Belton bore it all so well that the grumbling and +quarrelling did not lead to much; but it required all his good-humour +and broad common sense to prevent serious troubles and +misunderstanding.</p> + +<p>During the period of her cousin's visit at Belton, Clara received two +letters from Captain Aylmer, who was spending the Christmas holidays +with his father and mother, and on the day previous to that of her +cousin's departure there came a third. In neither of these letters +was there much said about Sir Anthony, but they were all very full of +Lady Aylmer. In the first he wrote with something of the personal +enthusiasm of a lover, and therefore Clara hardly felt the little +drawbacks to her happiness which were contained in certain innuendoes +respecting Lady Aylmer's ideas, and Lady Aylmer's hopes, and Lady +Aylmer's fears. Clara was not going to marry Lady Aylmer, and did not +fear but that she could hold her own against any mother-in-law in the +world when once they should be brought face to face. And as long as +Captain Aylmer seemed to take her part rather than that of his mother +it was all very well. The second letter was more trying to her +temper, as it contained one or two small morsels of advice as to +conduct which had evidently originated with her ladyship. Now there +is nothing, I take it, so irritating to an engaged young lady as +counsel from her intended husband's mamma. An engaged young lady, if +she be really in love, will take almost anything from her lover as +long as she is sure that it comes altogether from himself. He may +take what liberties he pleases with her dress. He may prescribe high +church or low church,—if he be not, as is generally the case, in a +condition to accept, rather than to give, prescriptions on that +subject. He may order almost any course of reading,—providing that +he supply the books. And he may even interfere with the style of +dancing, and recommend or prohibit partners. But he may not thrust +his mother down his future wife's throat. In answer to the second +letter, Clara did not say much to show her sense of objection. Indeed +she said nothing. But in saying nothing she showed her objection, and +Captain Aylmer understood it. Then came the third letter, and as it +contained matter touching upon our story, it shall be given +entire,—and I hope it may be taken by gentlemen about to marry as a +fair specimen of the sort of letter they ought not to write to the +girls of their <span class="nowrap">hearts:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Aylmer Castle, 19th January, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest +Clara</span>,—I got your letter of the 16th yesterday, +and was sorry you said nothing in reference to my mother's +ideas as to the house at Perivale. Of course she knew that +I heard from you, and was disappointed when I was obliged +to tell her that you had not alluded to the subject. She +is very anxious about you, and, having now given her +assent to our marriage, is of course desirous of knowing +that her kindly feeling is reciprocated. I assured her +that my own Clara was the last person to be remiss in such +a matter, and reminded her that young ladies are seldom +very careful in their mode of answering letters. Remember, +therefore, that I am now your guarantee, and send some +message to relieve me from my liability.</p> + +<p>When I told her of your father's long illness, which she +laments greatly, and of your cousin's continued presence +at Belton Castle, she seemed to think that Mr. Belton's +visit should not be prolonged. When I told her that he was +your nearest relative, she remarked that cousins are the +same as any other people,—which indeed they are. I know +that my Clara will not suppose that I mean more by this +than the words convey. Indeed I mean less. But not having +the advantage of a mother of your own, you will not be +sorry to know what are my mother's opinions on matters +which so nearly concern you.</p> + +<p>And now I come to another subject, as to which what I +shall say will surprise you very much. You know, I think, +that my aunt Winterfield and I had some conversation about +your neighbours, the Askertons; and you will remember that +my aunt, whose ideas on such matters were always correct, +was a little afraid that your father had not made +sufficient inquiry respecting them before he allowed them +to settle near him as tenants. It now turns out that she +is,—very far, indeed, from what she ought to be. My +mother at first thought of writing to you about this; but +she is a little fatigued, and at last resolved that under +all the circumstances it might be as well that I should +tell you. It seems that Mrs. Askerton was married before +to a certain Captain Berdmore, and that she left her first +husband during his lifetime under the protection of +Colonel Askerton. I believe they, the Colonel and Mrs. +Askerton, have been since married. Captain Berdmore died +about four years ago in India, and it is probable that +such a marriage has taken place. But under these +circumstances, as Lady Aylmer says, you will at once +perceive that all acquaintance between you and the lady +should be brought to an end. Indeed, your own sense of +what is becoming to you, either as an unmarried girl or as +my future wife, or indeed as a woman at all, will at once +make you feel that this must be so. I think, if I were +you, I would tell the whole to Mr. Amedroz; but this I +will leave to your own discretion. I can assure you that +Lady Aylmer has full proof as to the truth of what I tell +you.</p> + +<p>I go up to London in February. I suppose I may hardly hope +to see you before the recess in July or August; but I +trust that before that we shall have fixed the day when +you will make me the happiest of men.</p> + +<p class="ind12">Yours, with truest affection,</p> + +<p class="ind18"><span class="smallcaps">F. F. Aylmer</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>It was a disagreeable, nasty letter from the first line to the last. +There was not a word in it which did not grate against Clara's +feelings,—not a thought expressed which did not give rise to fears +as to her future happiness. But the information which it contained +about the Askertons,—"the communication," as Mrs. Askerton herself +would have called it,—made her for the moment almost forget Lady +Aylmer and her insolence. Could this story be true? And if true, how +far would it be imperative on her to take the hint, or rather obey +the order which had been given her? What steps should she take to +learn the truth? Then she remembered Mrs. Askerton's promise—"If you +want to ask any questions, and will ask them of me, I will answer +them." The communication, as to which Mrs. Askerton had prophesied, +had now been made;—but it had been made, not by Will Belton, whom +Mrs. Askerton had reviled, but by Captain Aylmer, whose praises Mrs. +Askerton had so loudly sung. As Clara thought of this, she could not +analyse her own feelings, which were not devoid of a certain triumph. +She had known that Belton would not put on his armour to attack a +woman. Captain Aylmer had done so, and she was hardly surprised at +his doing it. Yet Captain Aylmer was the man she loved! Captain +Aylmer was the man she had promised to marry. But, in truth, she +hardly knew which was the man she loved!</p> + +<p>This letter came on a Sunday morning, and on that day she and Belton +went to church together. On the following morning early he was to +start for Taunton. At church they saw Mrs. Askerton, whose attendance +there was not very frequent. It seemed, indeed, as though she had +come with the express purpose of seeing Belton once during his visit. +As they left the church she bowed to him, and that was all they saw +of each other throughout the month that he remained in Somersetshire.</p> + +<p>"Come to me to-morrow, Clara," Mrs. Askerton said as they all passed +through the village together. Clara muttered some reply, having not +as yet made up her mind as to what her conduct must be. Early on the +next morning Will Belton went away, and again Clara got up to give +him his breakfast. On this occasion he had no thought of kissing her. +He went away without having had a word said to him about Mrs. +Askerton, and then Clara settled herself down to the work of +deliberation. What should she do with reference to the communication +that had been made to her by Captain Aylmer?</p> + + +<p><a name="c17" id="c17"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> +<h4>AYLMER PARK.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Aylmer Park and the great house of the Aylmers together formed an +important, and, as regarded in some minds, an imposing country +residence. The park was large, including some three or four hundred +acres, and was peopled, rather thinly, by aristocratic deer. It was +surrounded by an aristocratic paling, and was entered, at three +different points, by aristocratic lodges. The sheep were more +numerous than the deer, because Sir Anthony, though he had a large +income, was not in very easy circumstances. The ground was quite +flat; and though there were thin belts of trees, and some ornamental +timber here and there, it was not well wooded. It had no special +beauty of its own, and depended for its imposing qualities chiefly on +its size, on its three sets of double lodges, and on its +old-established character as an important family place in the county. +The house was of stone, with a portico of Ionic columns which looked +as though it hardly belonged of right to the edifice, and stretched +itself out grandly, with two pretentious wings, which certainly gave +it a just claim to be called a mansion. It required a great many +servants to keep it in order, and the numerous servants required an +experienced duenna, almost as grand in appearance as Lady Aylmer +herself, to keep them in order. There was an open carriage and a +close carriage, and a butler, and two footmen, and three gamekeepers, +and four gardeners, and there was a coachman, and there were grooms, +and sundry inferior men and boys about the place to do the work which +the gardeners and gamekeepers and grooms did not choose to do +themselves. And they all became fat, and lazy, and stupid, and +respectable together; so that, as the reader will at once perceive, +Aylmer Park was kept up in the proper English style. Sir Anthony very +often discussed with his steward the propriety of lessening the +expenditure of his residence, and Lady Aylmer always attended and +probably directed these discussions; but it was found that nothing +could be done. Any attempt to remove a gamekeeper or a gardener would +evidently throw the whole machinery of Aylmer Park out of gear. If +retrenchment was necessary Aylmer Park must be abandoned, and the +glory of the Aylmers must be allowed to pale. But things were not so +bad as that with Sir Anthony. The gardeners, grooms, and gamekeepers +were maintained; ten domestic servants sat down to four heavy meals +in the servants' hall every day, and Lady Aylmer contented herself +with receiving little or no company, and with stingy breakfasts and +bad dinners for herself and her husband and daughter. By all this it +must be seen that she did her duty as the wife of an English country +gentleman, and properly maintained his rank as a baronet.</p> + +<p>He was a heavy man, over seventy years of age, much afflicted with +gout, and given to no pursuit on earth which was available for his +comfort. He had been a hunting man, and he had shot also; but not +with that energy which induces a sportsman to carry on those +amusements in opposition to the impediments of age. He had been, and +still was, a county magistrate; but he had never been very successful +in the justice-room, and now seldom troubled the county with his +judicial incompetence. He had been fond of good dinners and good +wine, and still, on occasions, would make attempts at enjoyment in +that line; but the gout and Lady Aylmer together were too many for +him, and he had but small opportunity for filling up the blanks of +his existence out of the kitchen or cellar. He was a big man, with a +broad chest, and a red face, and a quantity of white hair,—and was +much given to abusing his servants. He took some pleasure in +standing, with two sticks on the top of the steps before his own +front door, and railing at any one who came in his way. But he could +not do this when Lady Aylmer was by; and his dependents, knowing his +habits, had fallen into an ill-natured way of deserting the side of +the house which he frequented. With his eldest son, Anthony Aylmer, +he was not on very good terms; and though there was no positive +quarrel, the heir did not often come to Aylmer Park. Of his son +Frederic he was proud,—and the best days of his life were probably +those which Captain Aylmer spent at the house. The table was then +somewhat more generously spread, and this was an excuse for having up +the special port in which he delighted. Altogether his life was not +very attractive; and though he had been born to a baronetcy, and +eight thousand a-year, and the possession of Aylmer Park, I do not +think that he was, or had been, a happy man.</p> + +<p>Lady Aylmer was more fortunate. She had occupations of which her +husband knew nothing, and for which he was altogether unfit. Though +she could not succeed in making retrenchments, she could and did +succeed in keeping the household books. Sir Anthony could only blow +up the servants when they were thoughtless enough to come in his way, +and in doing that was restricted by his wife's presence. But Lady +Aylmer could get at them day and night. She had no gout to impede her +progress about the house and grounds, and could make her way to +places which the master never saw; and then she wrote many letters +daily, whereas Sir Anthony hardly ever took a pen in his hand. And +she knew the cottages of all the poor about the place, and knew also +all their sins of omission and commission. She was driven out, too, +every day, summer and winter, wet and dry, and consumed enormous +packets of wool and worsted, which were sent to her monthly from +York. And she had a companion in her daughter, whereas Sir Anthony +had no companion. Wherever Lady Aylmer went Miss Aylmer went with +her, and relieved what might otherwise have been the tedium of her +life. She had been a beauty on a large scale, and was still aware +that she had much in her personal appearance which justified pride. +She carried herself uprightly, with a commanding nose and broad +forehead; and though the graces of her own hair had given way to a +front, there was something even in the front which added to her +dignity, if it did not make her a handsome woman.</p> + +<p>Miss Aylmer, who was the eldest of the younger generation, and who +was now gently descending from her fortieth year, lacked the strength +of her mother's character, but admired her mother's ways, and +followed Lady Aylmer in all things,—at a distance. She was very +good,—as indeed was Lady Aylmer,—entertaining a high idea of duty, +and aware that her own life admitted of but little self-indulgence. +She had no pleasures, she incurred no expenses; and was quite alive +to the fact that as Aylmer Park required a regiment of lazy, +gormandizing servants to maintain its position in the county, the +Aylmers themselves should not be lazy, and should not gormandize. No +one was more careful with her few shillings than Miss Aylmer. She +had, indeed, abandoned a life's correspondence with an old friend +because she would not pay the postage on letters to Italy. She knew +that it was for the honour of the family that one of her brothers +should sit in Parliament, and was quite willing to deny herself a new +dress because sacrifices must be made to lessen electioneering +expenses. She knew that it was her lot to be driven about slowly in a +carriage with a livery servant before her and another behind her, and +then eat a dinner which the cook-maid would despise. She was aware +that it was her duty to be snubbed by her mother, and to encounter +her father's ill-temper, and to submit to her brother's indifference, +and to have, so to say, the slightest possible modicum of personal +individuality. She knew that she had never attracted a man's love, +and might hardly hope to make friends for the comfort of her coming +age. But still she was contented, and felt that she had consolation +for it all in the fact that she was an Aylmer. She read many novels, +and it cannot but be supposed that something of regret would steal +over her as she remembered that nothing of the romance of life had +ever, or could ever, come in her way. She wept over the loves of many +women, though she had never been happy or unhappy in her own. She +read of gaiety, though she never encountered it, and must have known +that the world elsewhere was less dull than it was at Aylmer Park. +But she took her life as it came, without a complaint, and prayed +that God would make her humble in the high position to which it had +pleased Him to call her. She hated Radicals, and thought that Essays +and Reviews, and Bishop Colenso, came direct from the Evil One. She +taught the little children in the parish, being specially urgent to +them always to curtsey when they saw any of the family;—and was as +ignorant, meek, and stupid a poor woman as you shall find anywhere in +Europe.</p> + +<p>It may be imagined that Captain Aylmer, who knew the comforts of his +club and was accustomed to life in London, would feel the dulness of +the paternal roof to be almost unendurable. In truth, he was not very +fond of Aylmer Park, but he was more gifted with patience than most +men of his age and position, and was aware that it behoved him to +keep the Fifth Commandment if he expected to have his own days +prolonged in the land. He therefore made his visits periodically, and +contented himself with clipping a few days at both ends from the +length prescribed by family tradition, which his mother was desirous +of exacting. September was always to be passed at Aylmer Park, +because of the shooting. In September, indeed, the eldest son himself +was wont to be there,—probably with a friend or two,—and the fat +old servants bestirred themselves, and there was something of life +about the place. At Christmas, Captain Aylmer was there as the only +visitor, and Christmas was supposed to extend from the middle of +December to the opening of Parliament. It must, however, be +explained, that on the present occasion his visit had been a matter +of treaty and compromise. He had not gone to Aylmer Park at all till +his mother had in some sort assented to his marriage with Clara +Amedroz. To this Lady Aylmer had been very averse, and there had been +many serious letters. Belinda Aylmer, the daughter of the house, had +had a bad time in pleading her brother's cause,—and some very harsh +words had been uttered;—but ultimately the matter had been arranged, +and, as is usual in such contests, the mother had yielded to the son. +Captain Aylmer had therefore gone down a few days before Christmas, +with a righteous feeling that he owed much to his mother for her +condescension, and almost prepared to make himself very disagreeable +to Clara by way of atoning to his family for his folly in desiring to +marry her.</p> + +<p>Lady Aylmer was very plain-spoken on the subject of all Clara's +shortcomings,—very plain-spoken, and very inquisitive. "She will +never have one shilling, I suppose?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am." Captain Aylmer always called his mother ma'am. "She +will have that fifteen hundred pounds that I told you of."</p> + +<p>"That is to say, you will have back the money which you yourself have +given her, Fred. I suppose that is the English of it?" Then Lady +Aylmer raised her eyebrows and looked very wise.</p> + +<p>"Just so, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"You can't call that having anything of her own. In point of fact she +is penniless."</p> + +<p>"It is no good harping on that," said Captain Aylmer, somewhat +sharply.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least, my dear; no good at all. Of course you have looked +it all in the face. You will be a poor man instead of a rich man, but +you will have enough to live on,—that is if she doesn't have a large +family;—which of course she will."</p> + +<p>"I shall do very well, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"You might do pretty well, I dare say, if you could live +privately,—at Perivale, keeping up the old family house there, and +having no expenses; but you'll find even that close enough with your +seat in Parliament, and the necessity there is that you should be +half the year in London. Of course she won't go to London. She can't +expect it. All that had better be made quite clear at once." Hence +had come the letter about the house at Perivale, containing Lady +Aylmer's advice on that subject, as to which Clara made no reply.</p> + +<p>Lady Aylmer, though she had given in her assent, was still not +altogether without hope. It might be possible that the two young +people could be brought to see the folly and error of their ways +before it would be too late; and that Lady Aylmer, by a judicious +course of constant advice, might be instrumental in opening the eyes, +if not of the lady, at any rate of the gentleman. She had great +reliance on her own powers, and knew well that a falling drop will +hollow a stone. Her son manifested no hot eagerness to complete his +folly in a hurry, and to cut the throat of his prospects out of hand. +Time, therefore, would be allowed to her, and she was a woman who +could use time with patience. Having, through her son, despatched her +advice about the house at Perivale,—which simply amounted to this, +that Clara should expressly state her willingness to live there alone +whenever it might suit her husband to be in London or elsewhere,—she +went to work on other points connected with the Amedroz family, and +eventually succeeded in learning something very much like the truth +as to poor Mrs. Askerton and her troubles. At first she was so +comfortably horror-stricken by the iniquity she had unravelled,—so +delightfully shocked and astounded,—as to believe that the facts as +they then stood would suffice to annul the match.</p> + +<p>"You don't tell me," she said to Belinda, "that Frederic's wife will +have been the friend of such a woman as that!" And Lady Aylmer, +sitting up-stairs with her household books before her, put up her +great fat hands and her great fat arms, and shook her head,—front +and all,—in most satisfactory dismay.</p> + +<p>"But I suppose Clara did not know it." Belinda had considered it to +be an act of charity to call Miss Amedroz Clara since the family +consent had been given.</p> + +<p>"Didn't know it! They have been living in that sort of way that they +must have been confidantes in everything. Besides, I always hold that +a woman is responsible for her female friends."</p> + +<p>"I think if she consents to drop her at once,—that is, absolutely to +make a promise that she will never speak to her again,—Frederic +ought to take that as sufficient. That is, of course, mamma, unless +she has had anything to do with it herself."</p> + +<p>"After this I don't know how I'm to trust her. I don't indeed. It +seems to me that she has been so artful throughout. It has been a +regular case of catching."</p> + +<p>"I suppose, of course, that she has been anxious to marry +Frederic;—but perhaps that was natural."</p> + +<p>"Anxious;—look at her going there just when he had to meet his +constituents. How young women can do such things passes me! And how +it is that men don't see it all, when it's going on just under their +noses, I can't understand. And then her getting my poor dear sister +to speak to him when she was dying! I didn't think your aunt would +have been so weak." It will be thus seen that there was entire +confidence on this subject between Lady Aylmer and her daughter.</p> + +<p>We know what were the steps taken with reference to the discovery, +and how the family were waiting for Clara's reply. Lady Aylmer, +though in her words she attributed so much mean cunning to Miss +Amedroz, still was disposed to believe that that lady would show +rather a high spirit on this occasion; and trusted to that high +spirit as the means for making the breach which she still hoped to +accomplish. It had been intended,—or rather desired,—that Captain +Aylmer's letter should have been much sharper and authoritative than +he had really made it; but the mother could not write the letter +herself, and had felt that to write in her own name would not have +served to create anger on Clara's part against her betrothed. But she +had quite succeeded in inspiring her son with a feeling of horror +against the iniquity of the Askertons. He was prepared to be +indignantly moral; and perhaps,—perhaps,—the misguided Clara might +be silly enough to say a word for her lost friend! Such being the +present position of affairs, there was certainly ground for hope.</p> + +<p>And now they were all waiting for Clara's answer. Lady Aylmer had +well calculated the course of post, and knew that a letter might +reach them by Wednesday morning. "Of course she will not write on +Sunday," she had said to her son, "but you have a right to expect +that not another day should go by." Captain Aylmer, who felt that +they were putting Clara on her trial, shook his head impatiently, and +made no immediate answer. Lady Aylmer, triumphantly feeling that she +had the culprit on the hip, did not care to notice this. She was +doing the best she could for his happiness,—as she had done for his +health, when in days gone by she had administered to him his +infantine rhubarb and early senna; but as she had never then expected +him to like her doses, neither did she now expect that he should be +well pleased at the remedial measures to which he was to be +subjected.</p> + +<p>No letter came on the Wednesday, nor did any come on the Thursday, +and then it was thought by the ladies at the Park that the time had +come for speaking a word or two. Belinda, at her mother's instance, +began the attack,—not in her mother's presence, but when she only +was with her brother.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it odd, Frederic, that Clara shouldn't write about those +people at Belton?"</p> + +<p>"Somersetshire is the other side of London, and letters take a long +time."</p> + +<p>"But if she had written on Monday, her answer would have been here on +Wednesday morning;—indeed, you would have had it Tuesday evening, as +mamma sent over to Whitby for the day mail letters." Poor Belinda was +a bad lieutenant, and displayed too much of her senior officer's +tactics in thus showing how much calculation and how much solicitude +there had been as to the expected letter.</p> + +<p>"If I am contented I suppose you may be," said the brother.</p> + +<p>"But it does seem to me to be so very important! If she hasn't got +your letter, you know, it would be so necessary that you should write +again, so that the—the—the contamination should be stopped as soon +as possible." Captain Aylmer shook his head and walked away. He was, +no doubt, prepared to be morally indignant,—morally very +indignant,—at the Askerton iniquity; but he did not like the word +contamination as applied to his future wife.</p> + +<p>"Frederic," said his mother, later on the same day,—when the +hardly-used groom had returned from his futile afternoon's inquiry at +the neighbouring post-town,—"I think you should do something in this +affair."</p> + +<p>"Do what, ma'am? Go off to Belton myself?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. I certainly would not do that. In the first place it would +be very inconvenient to you, and in the next place it would not be +fair upon us. I did not mean that at all. But I think that something +should be done. She should be made to understand."</p> + +<p>"You may be sure, ma'am, that she understands as well as anybody."</p> + +<p>"I dare say she is clever enough at these kind of things."</p> + +<p>"What kind of things?"</p> + +<p>"Don't bite my nose off, Frederic, because I am anxious about your +wife."</p> + +<p>"What is it that you wish me to do? I have written to her, and can +only wait for her answer."</p> + +<p>"It may be that she feels a delicacy in writing to you on such a +subject; though I <span class="nowrap">own—.</span> +However, to make a long story short, if you +like, I will write to her myself."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that that would do any good. It would only give her +offence."</p> + +<p>"Give her offence, Frederic, to receive a letter from her future +mother-in-law;—from me! Only think, Frederic, what you are saying."</p> + +<p>"If she thought she was being bullied about this, she would turn +rusty at once."</p> + +<p>"Turn rusty! What am I to think of a young lady who is prepared to +turn rusty,—at once, too, because she is cautioned by the mother of +the man she professes to love against an improper +acquaintance,—against an acquaintance so very improper?" Lady +Aylmer's eloquence should have been heard to be appreciated. It is +but tame to say that she raised her fat arms and fat hands, and +wagged her front,—her front that was the more formidable as it was +the old one, somewhat rough and dishevelled, which she was wont to +wear in the morning. The emphasis of her words should have been +heard, and the fitting solemnity of her action should have been seen. +"If there were any doubt," she continued to say, "but there is no +doubt. There are the damning proofs." There are certain words usually +confined to the vocabularies of men, which women such as Lady Aylmer +delight to use on special occasions, when strong circumstances demand +strong language. As she said this she put her hand below the table, +pressing it apparently against her own august person; but she was in +truth indicating the position of a certain valuable correspondence, +which was locked up in the drawer of her writing-table.</p> + +<p>"You can write if you like it, of course; but I think you ought to +wait a few more days."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Frederic; then I will wait. I will wait till Sunday. I do +not wish to take any step of which you do not approve. If you have +not heard by Sunday morning, then I will write to her—on Monday."</p> + +<p>On the Saturday afternoon life was becoming inexpressibly +disagreeable to Captain Aylmer, and he began to meditate an escape +from the Park. In spite of the agreement between him and his mother, +which he understood to signify that nothing more was to be said as to +Clara's wickedness, at any rate till Sunday after post-hour, Lady +Aylmer had twice attacked him on the Saturday, and had expressed her +opinion that affairs were in a very frightful position. Belinda went +about the house in melancholy guise, with her eyes rarely lifted off +the ground, as though she were prophetically weeping the utter ruin +of her brother's respectability. And even Sir Anthony had raised his +eyes and shaken his head, when, on opening the post-bag at the +breakfast-table,—an operation which was always performed by Lady +Aylmer in person,—her ladyship had exclaimed, "Again no letter!" +Then Captain Aylmer thought that he would fly, and resolved that, in +the event of such flight, he would give special orders as to the +re-direction of his own letters from the post-office at Whitby.</p> + +<p>That evening, after dinner, as soon as his mother and sister had left +the room, he began the subject with his father. "I think I shall go +up to town on Monday, sir," said he.</p> + +<p>"So soon as that. I thought you were to stop till the 9th."</p> + +<p>"There are things I must see to in London, and I believe I had better +go at once."</p> + +<p>"Your mother will be greatly disappointed."</p> + +<p>"I shall be sorry for that;—but business is business, you know." +Then the father filled his glass and passed the bottle. He himself +did not at all like the idea of his son's going before the appointed +time, but he did not say a word of himself. He looked at the red-hot +coals, and a hazy glimmer of a thought passed through his mind, that +he too would escape from Aylmer Park,—if it were possible.</p> + +<p>"If you'll allow me, I'll take the dog-cart over to Whitby on Monday, +for the express train."</p> + +<p>"You can do that certainly, but—"</p> + +<p>"Sir?"</p> + +<p>"Have you spoken to your mother yet?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. I will to-night."</p> + +<p>"I think she'll be a little angry, Fred." There was a sudden tone of +subdued confidence in the old man's voice as he made this suggestion, +which, though it was by no means a customary tone, his son well +understood. "Don't you think she will be;—eh, a little?"</p> + +<p>"She shouldn't go on as she does with me about Clara," said the +Captain.</p> + +<p>"Ah,—I supposed there was something of that. Are you drinking port?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I know that she means all that is good," said the son, +passing back the bottle.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—she means all that is good."</p> + +<p>"She is the best mother in the world."</p> + +<p>"You may say that, Fred;—and the best wife."</p> + +<p>"But if she can't have her own way +<span class="nowrap">altogether—"</span> Then the son paused, +and the father shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Of course she likes to have her own way," said Sir Anthony.</p> + +<p>"It's all very well in some things."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—it's very well in some things."</p> + +<p>"But there are things which a man must decide for himself."</p> + +<p>"I suppose there are," said Sir Anthony, not venturing to think what +those things might be as regarded himself.</p> + +<p>"Now, with reference to marrying—"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you want with marrying at all, Fred. You ought to +be very happy as you are. By heavens, I don't know any one who ought +to be happier. If I were you, I +<span class="nowrap">know—"</span></p> + +<p>"But you see, sir, that's all settled."</p> + +<p>"If it's all settled, I suppose there's an end of it."</p> + +<p>"It's no good my mother nagging at one."</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, she's been nagging at me, as you call it, for forty +years. That's her way. The best woman in the world, as we were +saying;—but that's her way. And it's the way with most of them. They +can do anything if they keep it up;—anything. The best thing is to +bear it if you've got it to bear. But why on earth you should go and +marry, seeing that you're not the eldest son, and that you've got +everything on earth that you want as a bachelor, I can't understand. +I can't indeed, Fred. By heaven, I can't!" Then Sir Anthony gave a +long sigh, and sat musing awhile, thinking of the club in London to +which he belonged, but which he never entered;—of the old days in +which he had been master of a bedroom near St. James's Street,—of +his old friends whom he never saw now, and of whom he never heard, +except as one and another, year after year, shuffled away from their +wives to that world in which there is no marrying or giving in +marriage. "Ah, well," he said, "I suppose we may as well go into the +drawing-room. If it is settled, I suppose it is settled. But it +really seems to me that your mother is trying to do the best she can +for you. It really does."</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer did not say anything to his mother that night as to +his going, but as he thought of his prospects in the solitude of his +bedroom, he felt really grateful to his father for the solicitude +which Sir Anthony had displayed on his behalf. It was not often that +he received paternal counsel, but now that it had come he +acknowledged its value. That Clara Amedroz was a self-willed woman he +thought that he was aware. She was self-reliant, at any rate,—and by +no means ready to succumb with that pretty feminine docility which he +would like to have seen her evince. He certainly would not wish to be +"nagged" by his wife. Indeed he knew himself well enough to assure +himself that he would not stand it for a day. In his own house he +would be master, and if there came tempests he would rule them. He +could at least promise himself that. As his mother had been strong, +so had his father been weak. But he had,—as he felt thankful in +knowing,—inherited his mother's strength rather than his father's +weakness. But, for all that, why have a tempest to rule at all? Even +though a man do rule his domestic tempests, he cannot have a very +quiet house with them. Then again he remembered how very easily Clara +had been won. He wished to be just to all men and women, and to Clara +among the number. He desired even to be generous to her,—with a +moderate generosity. But above all things he desired not to be duped. +What if Clara had in truth instigated her aunt to that deathbed +scene, as his mother had more than once suggested! He did not believe +it. He was sure that it had not been so. But what if it were so? His +desire to be generous and trusting was moderate;—but his desire not +to be cheated, not to be deceived, was immoderate. Upon the whole +might it not be well for him to wait a little longer, and ascertain +how Clara really intended to behave herself in this emergency of the +Askertons? Perhaps, after all, his mother might be right.</p> + +<p>On the Sunday the expected letter came;—but before its contents are +made known, it will be well that we should go back to Belton, and see +what was done by Clara in reference to the tidings which her lover +had sent her.</p> + + +<p><a name="c18" id="c18"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> +<h4>MRS. ASKERTON'S STORY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>When Clara received the letter from Captain Aylmer on which so much +is supposed to hang, she made up her mind to say nothing of it to any +one,—not to think of it if she could avoid thinking of it,—till her +cousin should have left her. She could not mention it to him; for, +though there was no one from whom she would sooner have asked advice +than from him, even on so delicate a matter as this, she could not do +so in the present case, as her informant was her cousin's successful +rival. When, therefore, Mrs. Askerton on leaving the church had +spoken some customary word to Clara, begging her to come to the +cottage on the following day, Clara had been unable to answer,—not +having as yet made up her mind whether she would or would not go to +the cottage again. Of course the idea of consulting her father +occurred to her,—or rather the idea of telling him; but any such +telling would lead to some advice from him which she would find it +difficult to obey, and to which she would be unable to trust. And, +moreover, why should she repeat this evil story against her +neighbours?</p> + +<p>She had a long morning by herself after Will had started, and then +she endeavoured to arrange her thoughts and lay down for herself a +line of conduct. Presuming this story to be true, to what did it +amount? It certainly amounted to very much. If, in truth, this woman +had left her own husband and gone away to live with another man, she +had by doing so,—at any rate while she was doing so,—fallen in such +a way as to make herself unfit for the society of an unmarried young +woman who meant to keep her name unblemished before the world. Clara +would not attempt any further unravelling of the case, even in her +own mind;—but on that point she could not allow herself to have a +doubt. Without condemning the unhappy victim, she understood well +that she would owe it to all those who held her dear, if not to +herself, to eschew any close intimacy with one in such a position. +The rules of the world were too plainly written to allow her to guide +herself by any special judgment of her own in such a matter. But if +this friend of hers,—having been thus unfortunate,—had since +redeemed, or in part redeemed, her position by a second marriage, +would it be then imperative upon her to remember the past for ever, +and to declare that the stain was indelible? Clara felt that with a +previous knowledge of such a story she would probably have avoided +any intimacy with Mrs. Askerton. She would then have been justified +in choosing whether such intimacy should or should not exist, and +would so have chosen out of deference to the world's opinion. But now +it was too late for that. Mrs. Askerton had for years been her +friend; and Clara had to ask herself <i>this</i> question; was it now +needful,—did her own feminine purity demand,—that she should throw +her friend over because in past years her life had been tainted by +misconduct.</p> + +<p>It was clear enough at any rate that this was expected from +her,—nay, imperatively demanded by him who was to be her lord,—by +him to whom her future obedience would be due. Whatever might be her +immediate decision, he would have a right to call upon her to be +guided by his judgment as soon as she would become his wife. And +indeed, she felt that he had such right now,—unless she should +decide that no such right should be his, now or ever. It was still +within her power to say that she could not submit herself to such a +rule as his,—but having received his commands she must do that or +obey them. Then she declared to herself, not following the matter out +logically, but urged to her decision by sudden impulse, that at any +rate she would not obey Lady Aylmer. She would have nothing to do, in +any such matter, with Lady Aylmer. Lady Aylmer should be no god to +her. That question about the house at Perivale had been very painful +to her. She felt that she could have endured the dreary solitude at +Perivale without complaint, if, after her marriage, her husband's +circumstances had made such a mode of living expedient. But to have +been asked to pledge her consent to such a life before her marriage, +to feel that he was bargaining for the privilege of being rid of her, +to know that the Aylmer people were arranging that he, if he would +marry her, should be as little troubled with his wife as +possible;—all this had been very grievous to her. She had tried to +console herself by the conviction that Lady Aylmer,—not +Frederic,—had been the sinner; but even in that consolation there +had been the terrible flaw that the words had come to her written by +Frederic's hand. Could Will Belton have written such a letter to his +future wife?</p> + +<p>In her present emergency she must be guided by her own judgment or +her own instincts,—not by any edicts from Aylmer Park! If in what +she might do she should encounter the condemnation of Captain Aylmer, +she would answer him,—she would be driven to answer him,—by +counter-condemnation of him and his mother. Let it be so. Anything +would be better than a mean, truckling subservience to the imperious +mistress of Aylmer Park.</p> + +<p>But what should she do as regarded Mrs. Askerton? That the story was +true she was beginning to believe. That there was some such history +was made certain to her by the promise which Mrs. Askerton had given +her.</p> + +<p>"If you want to ask any questions, and will ask them of me, I will +answer them." Such a promise would not have been volunteered unless +there was something special to be told. It would be best, perhaps, to +demand from Mrs. Askerton the fulfilment of this promise. But then in +doing so she must own from whence her information had come. Mrs. +Askerton had told her that the "communication" would be made by her +cousin Will. Her cousin Will had gone away without a word of Mrs. +Askerton, and now the "communication" had come from Captain Aylmer!</p> + +<p>The Monday and Tuesday were rainy days, and the rain was some excuse +for her not going to the cottage. On the Wednesday her father was +ill, and his illness made a further excuse for her remaining at home. +But on the Wednesday evening there came a note to her from Mrs. +Askerton. "You naughty girl, why do you not come to me? Colonel +Askerton has been away since yesterday morning, and I am forgetting +the sound of my own voice. I did not trouble you when your divine +cousin was here,—for reasons; but unless you come to me now I shall +think that his divinity has prevailed. Colonel Askerton is in +Ireland, about some property, and will not be back till next week."</p> + +<p>Clara sent back a promise by the messenger, and on the following +morning she put on her hat and shawl, and started on her dreaded +task. When she left the house she had not even yet quite made up her +mind what she would do. At first she put her lover's letter into her +pocket, so that she might have it for reference; but, on second +thoughts, she replaced it in her desk, dreading lest she might be +persuaded into showing or reading some part of it. There had come a +sharp frost after the rain, and the ground was hard and dry. In order +that she might gain some further last moment for thinking, she walked +round, up among the rocks, instead of going straight to the cottage; +and for a moment,—though the air was sharp with frost,—she sat upon +the stone where she had been seated when her cousin Will blurted out +the misfortune of his heart. She sat there on purpose that she might +think of him, and recall his figure, and the tones of his voice, and +the look of his eyes, and the gesture of his face. What a man he +was;—so tender, yet so strong; so thoughtful of others, and yet so +self-sufficient! She had, unconsciously, imputed to him one fault, +that he had loved and then forgotten his love;—unconsciously, for +she had tried to think that this was a virtue rather than a +fault;—but now,—with a full knowledge of what she was doing, but +without any intention of doing it,—she acquitted him of that one +fault. Now that she could acquit him, she owned that it would have +been a fault. To have loved, and so soon to have forgotten it! No; he +had loved her truly, and alas! he was one who could not be made to +forget it. Then she went on to the cottage, exercising her thoughts +rather on the contrast between the two men than on the subject to +which she should have applied them.</p> + +<p>"So you have come at last!" said Mrs. Askerton. "Till I got your +message I thought there was to be some dreadful misfortune."</p> + +<p>"What misfortune?"</p> + +<p>"Something dreadful! One often anticipates something very bad without +exactly knowing what. At least, I do. I am always expecting a +catastrophe;—when I am alone that is;—and then I am so often +alone."</p> + +<p>"That simply means low spirits, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"It's more than that, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Not much more, I take it."</p> + +<p>"Once when we were in India we lived close to the powder magazine, +and we were always expecting to be blown up. You never lived near a +powder magazine."</p> + +<p>"No, never;—unless there's one at Belton. But I should have thought +that was exciting."</p> + +<p>"And then there was the gentleman who always had the sword hanging +over him by the horse's hair."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Mrs. Askerton?"</p> + +<p>"Don't look so innocent, Clara. You know what I mean. What were the +results at last of your cousin's diligence as a detective officer?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Askerton, you wrong my cousin greatly. He never once mentioned +your name while he was with us. He did not make a single allusion to +you, or to Colonel Askerton, or to the cottage."</p> + +<p>"He did not?"</p> + +<p>"Never once."</p> + +<p>"Then I beg his pardon. But not the less has he been busy making +inquiries."</p> + +<p>"But why should you say that there is a powder magazine, or a sword +hanging over your head?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, why?"</p> + +<p>Here was the subject ready opened to her hand, and yet Clara did not +know how to go on with it. It seemed to her now that it would have +been easier for her to commence it, if Mrs. Askerton had made no +commencement herself. As it was, she knew not how to introduce the +subject of Captain Aylmer's letter, and was almost inclined to wait, +thinking that Mrs. Askerton might tell her own story without any such +introduction. But nothing of the kind was forthcoming. Mrs. Askerton +began to talk of the frost, and then went on to abuse Ireland, +complaining of the hardship her husband endured in being forced to go +thither in winter to look after his tenants.</p> + +<p>"What did you mean," said Clara, at last, "by the sword hanging over +your head?"</p> + +<p>"I think I told you what I meant pretty plainly. If you did not +understand me I cannot tell you more plainly."</p> + +<p>"It is odd that you should say so much, and not wish to say more."</p> + +<p>"Ah!—you are making your inquiries now."</p> + +<p>"In my place would not you do so too? How can I help it when you +talked of a sword? Of course you make me ask what the sword is."</p> + +<p>"And am I bound to satisfy your curiosity?"</p> + +<p>"You told me, just before my cousin came here, that if I asked any +question you would answer me."</p> + +<p>"And I am to understand that you are asking such a question now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—if it will not offend you."</p> + +<p>"But what if it will offend me,—offend me greatly? Who likes to be +inquired into?"</p> + +<p>"But you courted such inquiry from me."</p> + +<p>"No, Clara, I did not do that. I'll tell you what I did. I gave you +to understand that if it was needful that you should hear about me +and my antecedents,—certain matters as to which Mr. Belton had been +inquiring into in a manner that I thought to be most +unjustifiable,—I would tell you that story."</p> + +<p>"And do so without being angry with me for asking."</p> + +<p>"I meant, of course, that I would not make it a ground for +quarrelling with you. If I wished to tell you I could do so without +any inquiry."</p> + +<p>"I have sometimes thought that you did wish to tell me."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I have,—almost."</p> + +<p>"But you have no such wish now?"</p> + +<p>"Can't you understand? It may well be that one so much alone as I +am,—living here without a female friend, or even acquaintance, +except yourself,—should often feel a longing for that comfort which +full confidence between us would give me."</p> + +<p>"Then why not—"</p> + +<p>"Stop a moment. Can't you understand that I may feel this, and yet +entertain the greatest horror against inquiry? We all like to tell +our own sorrows, but who likes to be inquired into? Many a woman +burns to make a full confession, who would be as mute as death before +a policeman."</p> + +<p>"I am no policeman."</p> + +<p>"But you are determined to ask a policeman's questions?"</p> + +<p>To this Clara made no immediate reply. She felt that she was acting +almost falsely in going on with such questions, while she was in fact +aware of all the circumstances which Mrs. Askerton could tell;—but +she did not know how to declare her knowledge and to explain it. She +sincerely wished that Mrs. Askerton should be made acquainted with +the truth; but she had fallen into a line of conversation which did +not make her own task easy. But the idea of her own hypocrisy was +distressing to her, and she rushed at the difficulty with hurried, +eager words, resolving that, at any rate, there should be no longer +any doubt between them.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Askerton," she said, "I know it all. There is nothing for you +to tell. I know what the sword is."</p> + +<p>"What is it that you know?"</p> + +<p>"That you were married long ago to—Mr. Berdmore."</p> + +<p>"Then Mr. Belton did do me the honour of talking about me when he was +here?" As she said this she rose from her chair, and stood before +Clara with flashing eyes.</p> + +<p>"Not a word. He never mentioned your name, or the name of any one +belonging to you. I have heard it from another."</p> + +<p>"From what other?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know that that signifies,—but I have learned it."</p> + +<p>"Well;—and what next?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know what next. As so much has been told me, and as you had +said that I might ask you, I have come to you, yourself. I shall +believe your own story more thoroughly from yourself than from any +other teller."</p> + +<p>"And suppose I refuse to answer you?"</p> + +<p>"Then I can say nothing further."</p> + +<p>"And what will you do?"</p> + +<p>"Ah;—that I do not know. But you are harsh to me, while I am longing +to be kind to you. Can you not see that this has been all forced upon +me,—partly by yourself?"</p> + +<p>"And the other part;—who has forced that upon you? Who is your +informant? If you mean to be generous, be generous altogether. Is it +a man or a woman that has taken the trouble to rip up old sorrows +that my name may be blackened? But what matters? There;—I was +married to Captain Berdmore. I left him, and went away with my +present husband. For three years I was a man's mistress, and not his +wife. When that poor creature died we were married, and then came +here. Now you know it all;—all;—all,—though doubtless your +informant has made a better story of it. After that, perhaps, I have +been very wicked to sully the air you breathe by my presence."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that,—to me?"</p> + +<p>"But no;—you do not know it all. No one can ever know it all. No one +can ever know how I suffered before I was driven to escape, or how +good to me has been he +who—who—<span class="nowrap">who—"</span> Then +she turned her back upon +Clara, and, walking off to the window, stood there, hiding the tears +which clouded her eyes, and concealing the sobs which choked her +utterance.</p> + +<p>For some moments,—for a space which seemed long to both of +them,—Clara kept her seat in silence. She hardly dared to speak, and +though she longed to show her sympathy, she knew not what to say. At +last she too rose and followed the other to the window. She uttered +no words, however, but gently putting her arm around Mrs. Askerton's +waist, stood there close to her, looking out upon the cold wintry +flower-beds,—not venturing to turn her eyes upon her companion. The +motion of her arm was at first very gentle, but after a while she +pressed it closer, and thus by degrees drew her friend to her with an +eager, warm, and enduring pressure. Mrs. Askerton made some little +effort towards repelling her, some faint motion of resistance; but as +the embrace became warmer the poor woman yielded herself to it, and +allowed her face to fall upon Clara's shoulder. So they stood, +speaking no word, making no attempt to rid themselves of the tears +which were blinding their eyes, but gazing out through the moisture +on the bleak wintry scene before them. Clara's mind was the more +active at the moment, for she was resolving that in this episode of +her life she would accept no lesson whatever from Lady Aylmer's +teaching;—no, nor any lesson whatever from the teaching of any +Aylmer in existence. And as for the world's rules, she would fit +herself to them as best she could; but no such fitting should drive +her to the unwomanly cruelty of deserting this woman whom she had +known and loved,—and whom she now loved with a fervour which she had +never before felt towards her.</p> + +<p>"You have heard it all now," said Mrs. Askerton at last.</p> + +<p>"And is it not better so?"</p> + +<p>"Ah;—I do not know. How should I know?"</p> + +<p>"Do you not know?" And as she spoke Clara pressed her arm still +closer. "Do you not know yet?" Then, turning herself half round, she +clasped the other woman full in her arms, and kissed her forehead and +her lips.</p> + +<p>"Do you not know yet?"</p> + +<p>"But you will go away, and people will tell you that you are wrong."</p> + +<p>"What people?" said Clara, thinking as she spoke of the whole family +at Aylmer Park.</p> + +<p>"Your husband will tell you so."</p> + +<p>"I have no husband,—as yet,—to order me what to think or what not +to think."</p> + +<p>"No;—not quite as yet. But you will tell him all this."</p> + +<p>"He knows it. It was he who told me."</p> + +<p>"What!—Captain Aylmer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; Captain Aylmer."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind. Captain Aylmer is not my husband,—not as yet. If he +takes me, he must take me as I am, not as he might possibly have +wished me to be. Lady <span class="nowrap">Aylmer—"</span></p> + +<p>"And does Lady Aylmer know it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Lady Aylmer is one of those hard, severe women who never +forgive."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see it all now. I understand it all. Clara, you must forget +me, and come here no more. You shall not be ruined because you are +generous."</p> + +<p>"Ruined! If Lady Aylmer's displeasure can ruin me, I must put up with +ruin. I will not accept her for my guide. I am too old, and have had +my own way too long. Do not let that thought trouble you. In this +matter I shall judge for myself. I have judged for myself already."</p> + +<p>"And your father?"</p> + +<p>"Papa knows nothing of it."</p> + +<p>"But you will tell him?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. Poor papa is very ill. If he were well I would tell +him, and he would think as I do."</p> + +<p>"And your cousin?"</p> + +<p>"You say that he has heard it all."</p> + +<p>"I think so. Do you know that I remembered him the first moment that +I saw him. But what could I do? When you mentioned to me my old name, +my real name, how could I be honest? I have been driven to do that +which has made honesty to me impossible. My life has been a lie; and +yet how could I help it? I must live somewhere,—and how could I live +anywhere without deceit?"</p> + +<p>"And yet that is so sad."</p> + +<p>"Sad indeed! But what could I do? Of course I was wrong in the +beginning. Though how am I to regret it, when it has given me such a +husband as I have? Ah!—if you could know it all, I think,—I think +you would forgive me."</p> + +<p>Then by degrees she told it all, and Clara was there for hours +listening to her story. The reader will not care to hear more of it +than he has heard. Nor would Clara have desired any closer +revelation; but as it is often difficult to obtain a confidence, so +is it impossible to stop it in the midst of its effusion. Mrs. +Askerton told the history of her life,—of her first foolish +engagement, her belief, her half-belief, in the man's reformation, of +the miseries which resulted from his vices, of her escape and shame, +of her welcome widowhood, and of her second marriage. And as she told +it, she paused at every point to insist on the goodness of him who +was now her husband. "I shall tell him this," she said at last, "as I +do everything; and then he will know that I have in truth got a +friend."</p> + +<p>She asked again and again about Mr. Belton, but Clara could only tell +her that she knew nothing of her cousin's knowledge. Will might have +heard it all, but if so he had kept his information to himself.</p> + +<p>"And now what shall you do?" Mrs. Askerton asked of Clara, at length +prepared to go.</p> + +<p>"Do? in what way? I shall do nothing."</p> + +<p>"But you will write to Captain Aylmer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I shall write to him."</p> + +<p>"And about this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I suppose I must write to him."</p> + +<p>"And what will you say?"</p> + +<p>"That I cannot tell. I wish I knew what to say. If it were to his +mother I could write my letter easily enough."</p> + +<p>"And what would you say to her?"</p> + +<p>"I would tell her that I was responsible for my own friends. But I +must go now. Papa will complain that I am so long away." Then there +was another embrace, and at last Clara found her way out of the house +and was alone again in the park.</p> + +<p>She clearly acknowledged to herself that she had a great difficulty +before her. She had committed herself altogether to Mrs. Askerton, +and could no longer entertain any thought of obeying the very plainly +expressed commands which Captain Aylmer had given her. The story as +told by Captain Aylmer had been true throughout; but, in the teeth of +that truth, she intended to maintain her acquaintance with Mrs. +Askerton. From that there was now no escape. She had been carried +away by impulse in what she had done and said at the cottage, but she +could not bring herself to regret it. She could not believe that it +was her duty to throw over and abandon a woman whom she loved, +because that woman had once, in her dire extremity, fallen away from +the path of virtue. But how was she to write the letter?</p> + +<p>When she reached her father he complained of her absence, and almost +scolded her for having been so long at the cottage. "I cannot see," +said he, "what you find in that woman to make so much of her."</p> + +<p>"She is the only neighbour I have, papa."</p> + +<p>"And better none than her, if all that people say of her is true."</p> + +<p>"All that people say is never true, papa."</p> + +<p>"There is no smoke without fire. I am not at all sure that it's good +for you to be so much with her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa,—don't treat me like a child."</p> + +<p>"And I'm sure it's not good for me that you should be so much away. +For anything I have seen of you all day you might have been at +Perivale. But you are going soon, altogether, so I suppose I may as +well make up my mind to it."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going for a long time yet, papa."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that there's nothing to take me away from here at present."</p> + +<p>"You are engaged to be married."</p> + +<p>"But it will be a long engagement. It is one of those engagements in +which neither party is very anxious for an immediate change." There +was something bitter in Clara's tone as she said this, which the old +man perceived, but could only half understand. Clara remained with +him then for the rest of the day, going down-stairs for five minutes, +to her dinner, and then returning to him and reading aloud while he +dozed. Her winter evenings at Belton Castle were not very bright, but +she was used to them and made no complaint.</p> + +<p>When she left her father for the night she got out her desk and +prepared herself for her letter to her lover. She was determined that +it should be finished that night before she went to bed. And it was +so finished; though the writing of it gave her much labour, and +occupied her till the late hours had come upon her. When completed it +was as <span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Belton Castle, Thursday Night.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear +Frederic</span>,—I received your letter last Sunday, but I +could not answer it sooner, as it required much +consideration, and also some information which I have only +obtained to-day. About the plan of living at Perivale I +will not say much now, as my mind is so full of other +things. I think, however, I may promise that I will never +make any needless difficulty as to your plans. My cousin +Will left us on Monday, so your mother need not have any +further anxiety on that head. It does papa good to have +him here, and for that reason I am sorry that he has gone. +I can assure you that I don't think what you said about +him meant anything at all particular. Will is my nearest +cousin, and of course you would be glad that I should like +him,—which I do, very much.</p> + +<p>And now about the other subject, which I own has +distressed me, as you supposed it would;—I mean about +Mrs. Askerton. I find it very difficult in your letter to +divide what comes from your mother and what from yourself. +Of course I want to make the division, as every word from +you has great weight with me. At present I don't know Lady +Aylmer personally, and I cannot think of her as I do of +you. Indeed, were I to know her ever so well, I could not +have the same deference for her that I have for the man +who is to be my husband. I only say this, as I fear that +Lady Aylmer and I may not perhaps agree about Mrs. +Askerton.</p> + +<p>I find that your story about Mrs. Askerton is in the main +true. But the person who told it you does not seem to have +known any of the provocations which she received. She was +very badly treated by Captain Berdmore, who, I am afraid, +was a terrible drunkard; and at last she found it +impossible to stay with him. So she went away. I cannot +tell you how horrid it all was, but I am sure that if I +could make you understand it, it would go a long way in +inducing you to excuse her. She was married to Colonel +Askerton as soon as Captain Berdmore died, and this took +place before she came to Belton. I hope you will remember +that. It all occurred out in India, and I really hardly +know what business we have to inquire about it now.</p> + +<p>At any rate, as I have been acquainted with her a long +time, and very intimately, and as I am sure that she has +repented of anything that has been wrong, I do not think +that I ought to quarrel with her now. Indeed I have +promised her that I will not. I think I owe it you to tell +you the whole truth, and that is the truth.</p> + +<p>Pray give my regards to your mother, and tell her that I +am sure she would judge differently if she were in my +place. This poor woman has no other friend here; and who +am I, that I should take upon myself to condemn her? I +cannot do it. Dear Frederic, pray do not be angry with me +for asserting my own will in this matter. I think you +would wish me to have an opinion of my own. In my present +position I am bound to have one, as I am, as yet, +responsible for what I do myself. I shall be very, very +sorry, if I find that you differ from me; but still I +cannot be made to think that I am wrong. I wish you were +here, that we might talk it over together, as I think that +in that case you would agree with me.</p> + +<p>If you can manage to come to us at Easter, or any other +time when Parliament does not keep you in London, we shall +be so delighted to see you.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind12">Dear Frederic,</span><br /> +<span class="ind14">Yours very affectionately,</span></p> + +<p class="ind16"><span class="smallcaps">Clara Amedroz</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a name="c19" id="c19"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> +<h4>MISS AMEDROZ HAS ANOTHER CHANCE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It was on a Sunday morning that Clara's letter reached Aylmer Park, +and Frederic Aylmer found it on his plate as he took his place at the +breakfast-table. Domestic habits at Aylmer Park had grown with the +growth of years till they had become adamantine, and domestic habits +required prayers every morning at a quarter before nine o'clock. At +twenty minutes before nine Lady Aylmer would always be in the +dining-room to make the tea and open the post-bag, and as she was +always there alone, she knew more about other people's letters than +other people ever knew about hers. When these operations were over +she rang the bell, and the servants of the family, who by that time +had already formed themselves into line in the hall, would march in, +and settle themselves on benches prepared for them near the +side-board,—which benches were afterwards carried away by the +retiring procession. Lady Aylmer herself always read prayers, as Sir +Anthony never appeared till the middle of breakfast. Belinda would +usually come down in a scurry as she heard her mother's bell, in such +a way as to put the army in the hall to some confusion; but Frederic +Aylmer, when he was at home, rarely entered the room till after the +service was over. At Perivale no doubt he was more strict in his +conduct; but then at Perivale he had special interests and influences +which were wanting to him at Aylmer Park. During those five minutes +Lady Aylmer would deal round the letters to the several plates of the +inmates of her house,—not without looking at the post-office marks +upon them; and on this occasion she had dealt a letter from Clara to +her son.</p> + +<p>The arrival of the letter was announced to Frederic Aylmer before he +took his seat.</p> + +<p>"Frederic," said her ladyship, in her most portentous voice, "I am +glad to say that at last there is a letter from Belton."</p> + +<p>He made no immediate reply, but making his way slowly to his place, +took up the little packet, turned it over in his hand, and then put +it into his pocket. Having done this, he began very slowly with his +tea and egg. For three minutes his mother was contented to make, or +to pretend to make, some effort in the same direction. Then her +impatience became too much for her, and she began to question him.</p> + +<p>"Will you not read it, Frederic?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"But why not do so now, when you know how anxious we are?"</p> + +<p>"There are letters which one would sooner read in private."</p> + +<p>"But when a matter is of so much +<span class="nowrap">importance—"</span> said Belinda.</p> + +<p>"The importance, Bel, is to me, and not to you," said her brother.</p> + +<p>"All we want to know is," continued the sister, "that she promises to +be guided by you in this matter; and of course we feel quite sure +that she will."</p> + +<p>"If you are quite sure that must be sufficient for you."</p> + +<p>"I really think you need not quarrel with your sister," said Lady +Aylmer, "because she is anxious as to the—the respectability, I must +say, for there is no other word, of a young lady whom you propose to +make your wife. I can assure you that I am very anxious myself,—very +anxious indeed."</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer made no answer to this, but he did not take the letter +from his pocket. He drank his tea in silence, and in silence sent up +his cup to be refilled. In silence also was it returned to him. He +ate his two eggs and his three bits of toast, according to his +custom, and when he had finished, sat out his three or four minutes +as was usual. Then he got up to retire to his room, with the envelope +still unbroken in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"You will go to church with us, I suppose?" said Lady Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"I won't promise, ma'am; but if I do, I'll walk across the park,—so +that you need not wait for me."</p> + +<p>Then both the mother and sister knew that the member for Perivale did +not intend to go to church on that occasion. To morning service Sir +Anthony always went, the habits of Aylmer Park having in them more of +adamant in reference to him than they had as regarded his son.</p> + +<p>When the father, mother, and daughter returned, Captain Aylmer had +read his letter, and had, after doing so, received further tidings +from Belton Castle,—further tidings which for the moment prevented +the necessity of any reference to the letter, and almost drove it +from his own thoughts. When his mother entered the library he was +standing before the fire with a scrap of paper in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Since you have been at church there has come a telegraphic message," +he said.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Frederic? Do not frighten me,—if you can avoid it!"</p> + +<p>"You need not be frightened, ma'am, for you did not know him. Mr. +Amedroz is dead."</p> + +<p>"No!" said Lady Aylmer, seating herself.</p> + +<p>"Dead!" said Belinda, holding up her hands.</p> + +<p>"God bless my soul!" said the baronet, who had now followed the +ladies into the room. "Dead! Why, Fred, he was five years younger +than I am!"</p> + +<p>Then Captain Aylmer read the words of the message:—"Mr. Amedroz died +this morning at five o'clock. I have sent word to the lawyer and to +Mr. Belton."</p> + +<p>"Who does it come from?" asked Lady Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"From Colonel Askerton."</p> + +<p>Lady Aylmer paused, and shook her head, and moved her foot uneasily +upon the carpet. The tidings, as far as they went, might be +unexceptionable, but the source from whence they had come had +evidently polluted them in her ladyship's judgment. Then she uttered +a series of inter-ejaculations, expressions of mingled sorrow and +anger.</p> + +<p>"There was no one else near her," said Captain Aylmer, +apologetically.</p> + +<p>"Is there no clergyman in the parish?"</p> + +<p>"He lives a long way off. The message had to be sent at once."</p> + +<p>"Are there no servants in the house? It looks,—it +<span class="nowrap">looks—.</span> But I am +the last person in the world to form a harsh judgment of a young +woman at such a moment as this. What did she say in her letter, +Fred?"</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer had devoted two hours of consideration to the letter +before the telegram had come to relieve his mind by a fresh subject, +and in those two hours he had not been able to extract much of +comfort out of the document. It was, as he felt, a stubborn, +stiff-necked, disobedient, almost rebellious letter. It contained a +manifest defiance of his mother, and exhibited doctrines of most +questionable morality. It had become to him a matter of doubt whether +he could possibly marry a woman who could entertain such ideas and +write such a letter. If the doubt was to be decided in his own mind +against Clara, he had better show the letter at once to his mother, +and allow her ladyship to fight the battle for him;—a task which, as +he well knew, her ladyship would not be slow to undertake. But he had +not succeeded in answering the question satisfactorily to himself +when the telegram arrived and diverted all his thoughts. Now that Mr. +Amedroz was dead, the whole thing might be different. Clara would +come away from Belton and Mrs. Askerton, and begin life, as it were, +afresh. It seemed as though in such an emergency she ought to have +another chance; and therefore he did not hasten to pronounce his +judgment. Lady Aylmer also felt something of this, and forbore to +press her question when it was not answered.</p> + +<p>"She will have to leave Belton now, I suppose?" said Sir Anthony.</p> + +<p>"The property will belong to a distant cousin,—a Mr. William +Belton."</p> + +<p>"And where will she go?" said Lady Aylmer. "I suppose she has no +place that she can call her home?"</p> + +<p>"Would it not be a good thing to ask her here?" said Belinda. Such a +question as that was very rash on the part of Miss Aylmer. In the +first place, the selection of guests for Aylmer Park was rarely left +to her; and in this special case she should have understood that such +a proposal should have been fully considered by Lady Aylmer before it +reached Frederic's ears.</p> + +<p>"I think it would be a very good plan," said Captain Aylmer, +generously.</p> + +<p>Lady Aylmer shook her head. "I should like much to know what she has +said about that unfortunate connection before I offer to take her by +the hand myself. I'm sure Fred will feel that I ought to do so."</p> + +<p>But Fred retreated from the room without showing the letter. He +retreated from the room and betook himself to solitude, that he might +again endeavour to make up his mind as to what he would do. He put on +his hat and his great-coat and gloves, and went off,—without his +luncheon,—that he might consider it all. Clara Amedroz had now no +home,—and, indeed, very little means of providing one. If he +intended that she should be his wife, he must furnish her with a home +at once. It seemed to him that three houses might possibly be open to +her,—of which one, the only one which under such circumstances would +be proper, was Aylmer Park. The other two were Plaistow Hall and Mrs. +Askerton's cottage at Belton. As to the latter,—should she ever take +shelter there, everything must be over between him and her. On that +point there could be no doubt. He could not bring himself to marry a +wife out of Mrs. Askerton's drawing-room, nor could he expect his +mother to receive a young woman brought into the family under such +circumstances. And Plaistow Hall was almost as bad. It was as bad to +him, though it would, perhaps, be less objectionable in the eyes of +Lady Aylmer. Should Clara go to Plaistow Hall there must be an end to +everything. Of that also he taught himself to be quite certain. Then +he took out Clara's letter and read it again. She acknowledged the +story about the woman to be true,—such a story as it was too,—and +yet refused to quarrel with the woman;—had absolutely promised the +woman not to quarrel with her! Then he read and re-read the passage +in which Clara claimed the right of forming her own opinion in such +matters. Nothing could be more indelicate;—nothing more unfit for +his wife. He began to think that he had better show the letter to his +mother, and acknowledge that the match must be broken off. That +softening of his heart which had followed upon the receipt of the +telegraphic message departed from him as he dwelt upon the stubborn, +stiff-necked, unfeminine obstinacy of the letter. Then he remembered +that nothing had as yet been done towards putting his aunt's fifteen +hundred pounds absolutely into Clara's hands; and he remembered also +that she might at the present moment be in great want. William Belton +might, not improbably, assist her in her want, and this idea was +wormwood to him in spite of his almost formed resolution to give up +his own claims. He calculated that the income arising from fifteen +hundred pounds would be very small, and he wished that he had +counselled his aunt to double the legacy. He thought very much about +the amount of the money and the way in which it might be best +expended, and was, after his cold fashion, really solicitous as to +Clara's welfare. If he could have fashioned her future life, and his +own too, in accordance with his own now existing wishes, I think he +would have arranged that neither of them should marry at all, and +that to him should be assigned the duty and care of being Clara's +protector,—with full permission to tell her his mind as often as he +pleased on the subject of Mrs. Askerton. Then he went in and wrote a +note to Mr. Green, the lawyer, desiring that the interest of the +fifteen hundred pounds for one year might be at once remitted to Miss +Amedroz. He knew that he ought to write to her himself immediately, +without loss of a post; but how was he to write while things were in +their present position? Were he now to condole with her on her +father's death, without any reference to the great Askerton iniquity, +he would thereby be condoning all that was past, and acknowledging +the truth and propriety of her arguments. And he would be doing even +worse than that. He would be cutting the ground absolutely from +beneath his own feet as regarded that escape from his engagement +which he was contemplating.</p> + +<p>What a cold-hearted, ungenerous wretch he must have been! That will +be the verdict against him. But the verdict will be untrue. +Cold-hearted and ungenerous he was; but he was no wretch,—as men and +women are now-a-days called wretches. He was chilly hearted, but yet +quite capable of enough love to make him a good son, a good husband, +and a good father too. And though he was ungenerous from the nature +of his temperament, he was not close-fisted or over covetous. And he +was a just man, desirous of obtaining nothing that was not fairly his +own. But, in truth, the artists have been so much in the habit of +painting for us our friends' faces without any of those flaws and +blotches with which work and high living are apt to disfigure us, +that we turn in disgust from a portrait in which the roughnesses and +pimples are made apparent.</p> + +<p>But it was essential that he should now do something, and before he +sat down to dinner he did show Clara's letter to his mother. +"Mother," he said, as he sat himself down in her little room +up-stairs;—and she knew well by the tone of his voice, and by the +mode of his address, that there was to be a solemn occasion, and a +serious deliberative council on the present existing family +difficulty,—"mother, of course I have intended to let you know what +is the nature of Clara's answer to my letter."</p> + +<p>"I am glad there is to be no secret between us, Frederic. You know +how I dislike secrets in families." As she said this she took the +letter out of her son's hands with an eagerness that was almost +greedy. As she read it, he stood over her, watching her eyes, as they +made their way down the first page and on to the second, and across +to the third, and so, gradually on, till the whole reading was +accomplished. What Clara had written about her cousin Will, Lady +Aylmer did not quite understand; and on this point now she was so +little anxious that she passed over that portion of the letter +readily. But when she came to Mrs. Askerton and the allusions to +herself, she took care to comprehend the meaning and weight of every +word. "Divide your words and mine! Why should we want to divide them? +Not agree with me about Mrs. Askerton! How is it possible that any +decent young woman should not agree with me! It is a matter in which +there is no room for a doubt. True;—the story true! Of course it is +true. Does she not know that it would not have reached her from +Aylmer Park if it were not true? Provocation! Badly treated! Went +away! Married to Colonel Askerton as soon as Captain Berdmore died! +Why, Frederic, she cannot have been taught to understand the first +principle of morals in life! And she that was so much with my poor +sister! Well, well!" The reader should understand that the late Mrs. +Winterfield and Lady Aylmer had never been able to agree with each +other on religious subjects. "Remember that they are married. Why +should we remember anything of the kind? It does not make an atom of +difference to the woman's character. Repented! How can Clara say +whether she has repented or not? But that has nothing to do with it. +Not quarrel with her,—as she calls it! Not give her up! Then, +Frederic, of course it must be all over, as far as you are +concerned." When she had finished her reading, she returned the +letter, still open, to her son, shaking her head almost triumphantly. +"As far as I am a judge of a young woman's character, I can only give +you one counsel," said Lady Aylmer solemnly.</p> + +<p>"I think that she should have another chance," said Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"What other chance can you give her? It seems to me that she is +obstinately bent on her own destruction."</p> + +<p>"You might ask her to come here, as Belinda suggested."</p> + +<p>"Belinda was very foolish to suggest anything of the kind without +more consideration."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that my future wife would be made welcome here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Frederic, certainly. I do not know who could be more welcome. +But is she to be your wife?"</p> + +<p>"We are engaged."</p> + +<p>"But does not that letter break any engagement? Is there not enough +in that to make such a marriage quite out of the question? What do +you think about it yourself, Frederic?"</p> + +<p>"I think that she should have another chance."</p> + +<p>What would Clara have thought of all this herself, if she could have +heard the conversation between Lady Aylmer and her betrothed husband, +and have known that her lover was proposing to give her "another +chance?" But it is lucky for us that we seldom know what our best +friends say on our behalf, when they discuss us and our faults behind +our backs.</p> + +<p>"What chance, Frederic, can she have? She knows all about this horrid +woman, and yet refuses to give her up! What chance can she have after +that?"</p> + +<p>"I think that you might have her here,—and talk to her." Lady +Aylmer, in answer to this, simply shook her head. And I think she was +right in supposing that such shaking of her head was a sufficient +reply to her son's proposition. What talking could possibly be of +service to such a one as this Miss Amedroz? Why should she throw her +pearls before swine? "We must either ask her to come here, or else I +must go to her," said Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that at all, Frederic."</p> + +<p>"I think it must be so. As she is situated at present she has got no +home; and I think it would be very horrid that she should be driven +into that woman's house, simply because she has no other shelter for +her head."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she can remain where she is for the present?"</p> + +<p>"She is all alone, you know; and it must be very gloomy;—and her +cousin can turn her out at a moment's notice."</p> + +<p>"But all that would not entitle her to come here, +<span class="nowrap">unless—"</span></p> + +<p>"No;—I quite understand that. But you cannot wonder that I should +feel the hardship of her position."</p> + +<p>"Who is to be blamed if it be hard? You see, Frederic, I take my +standing upon that letter;—her own letter. How am I to ask a young +woman into my house who declares openly that my opinion on such a +matter goes for nothing with her? How am I to do it? That's what I +ask you. How am I to do it? It's all very well for Belinda to suggest +this and that. But how am I to do it? That's what I want to know."</p> + +<p>But at last Lady Aylmer managed to answer the question for herself, +and did do it. But this was not done on that Sunday afternoon, nor on +the Monday, nor on the Tuesday. The question was closely debated, and +at last the anxious mother perceived that the giving of the +invitation would be more safe than withholding it. Captain Aylmer at +last expressed his determination to go to Belton unless the +invitation were given; and then, should he do that, there might be +danger that he would never be again seen at Aylmer Park till he +brought Clara Amedroz with him as his wife. The position was one of +great difficulty, but the interests at stake were so immense that +something must be risked. It might be that Clara would not come when +invited, and in that case her obstinacy would be a great point +gained. And if she did +<span class="nowrap">come—!</span> +Well; Lady Aylmer admitted to herself +that the game would be difficult,—difficult and very troublesome; +but yet it might be played, and perhaps won. Lady Aylmer was a woman +who had great confidence in herself. Not so utterly had victory in +such contests deserted her hands, that she need fear to break a lance +with Miss Amedroz beneath her own roof, when the occasion was so +pressing.</p> + +<p>The invitation was therefore sent in a note written by herself, and +was enclosed in a letter from her son. After much consultation and +many doubts on the subject, it was at last agreed that nothing +further should now be urged about Mrs. Askerton. "She shall have her +chance," said Lady Aylmer over and over again, repeating her son's +words. "She shall have her chance." Lady Aylmer, therefore, in her +note, confined herself strictly to the giving of the invitation, and +to a suggestion that, as Clara had now no settled home of her own, a +temporary sojourn at Aylmer Park might be expedient. And Captain +Aylmer in his letter hardly said much more. He knew, as he wrote the +words, that they were cold and comfortless, and that he ought on such +an occasion to have written words that should have been warm at any +rate, even though they might not have contained comfort. But, to have +written with affection, he should have written at once, and he had +postponed his letter from the Sunday till the Wednesday. It had been +absolutely necessary that that important question as to the +invitation should be answered before he could write at all.</p> + +<p>When all this was settled he went up to London; and there was an +understanding between him and his mother that he should return to +Aylmer Park with Clara, in the event of her acceptance of the +invitation.</p> + +<p>"You won't go down to Belton for her?" said the mother.</p> + +<p>"No;—I do not think that will be necessary," said the son.</p> + +<p>"I should think not," said the mother.</p> + + +<p><a name="c20" id="c20"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> +<h4>WILLIAM BELTON DOES NOT GO OUT HUNTING.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>We will now follow the other message which was sent down into +Norfolk, and which did not get into Belton's hands till the Monday +morning. He was sitting with his sister at breakfast, and was +prepared for hunting, when the paper was brought into the room. +Telegraphic messages were not very common at Plaistow Hall, and on +the arrival of any that had as yet reached that house, something of +that awe had been felt with which such missives were always +accompanied in their earliest days. "A telegruff message, mum, for +Mr. William," said the maid, looking at her mistress with eyes opened +wide, as she handed the important bit of paper to her master. Will +opened it rapidly, laying down the knife and fork with which he was +about to operate upon a ham before him. He was dressed in boots and +breeches, and a scarlet coat,—in which garb he was, in his sister's +eyes, the most handsome man in Norfolk.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mary!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Will?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Amedroz is dead."</p> + +<p>Miss Belton put out her hand for the paper before she spoke again, as +though she could better appreciate the truth of what she heard when +reading it herself on the telegraph slip than she had done from her +brother's words. "How sudden! how terribly sudden!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Sudden indeed. When I left him he was not well, certainly, but I +should have said that he might have lived for twenty years. Poor old +man! I can hardly say why it was so, but I had taken a liking to +him."</p> + +<p>"You take a liking to everybody, Will."</p> + +<p>"No I don't. I know people I don't like." Will Belton as he said this +was thinking of Captain Aylmer, and he pressed the heel of his boot +hard against the floor.</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Amedroz is dead! It seems to be so terribly sudden. What +will she do, Will?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm thinking about."</p> + +<p>"Of course you are, my dear. I can see that. I wish,—I +<span class="nowrap">wish—"</span></p> + +<p>"It's no good wishing anything, Mary. I don't think wishing ever did +any good yet. If I might have my wish, I shouldn't know how to have +it."</p> + +<p>"I was wishing that you didn't think so much about it."</p> + +<p>"You need not be troubled about me. I shall do very well. But what is +to become of her,—now at once? Might she not come here? You are now +the nearest female relation that she has." Mary looked at him with +her anxious, painful eyes, and he knew by her look that she did not +approve of his plan. "I could go away," he continued. "She could come +to you without being troubled by seeing me.</p> + +<p>"And where would you go, Will?"</p> + +<p>"What does it matter? To the devil, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Will, Will!"</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean. I'd go anywhere. Where is she to find a home +till,—till she is married?" He had paused at the word; but was +determined not to shrink from it, and bolted it out in a loud, sharp +tone, so that both he and she recognised all the meaning of the +word,—all that was conveyed in the idea. He hated himself when he +endeavoured to conceal from his own mind any of the misery that was +coming upon him. He loved her. He could not get over it. The passion +was on him,—like a palsy, for the shaking off of which no sufficient +physical energy was left to him. It clung to him in his goings out +and comings in with a painful, wearing tenacity, against which he +would now and again struggle, swearing that it should be so no +longer,—but against which he always struggled in vain. It was with +him when he was hunting. He was ever thinking of it when the bird +rose before his gun. As he watched the furrow, as his men and horses +would drive it straight and deep through the ground, he was thinking +of her,—and not of the straightness and depth of the furrow, as had +been his wont in former years. Then he would turn away his face, and +stand alone in his field, blinded by the salt drops in his eyes, +weeping at his own weakness. And when he was quite alone, he would +stamp his foot on the ground, and throw abroad his arms, and curse +himself. What Nessus's shirt was this that had fallen upon him, and +unmanned him from the sole of his foot to the top of his head? He +went through the occupations of the week. He hunted, and shot, and +gave his orders, and paid his men their wages;—but he did it all +with a palsy of love upon him as he did it. He wanted her, and he +could not overcome the want. He could not bear to confess to himself +that the thing by which he had set so much store could never belong +to him. His sister understood it all, and sometimes he was almost +angry with her because of her understanding it. She sympathised with +him in all his moods, and sometimes he would shake away her sympathy +as though it scalded him. "Where is she to find a home till,—till +she is married?" he said.</p> + +<p>Not a word had as yet been said between them about the property which +was now his estate. He was now Belton of Belton, and it must be +supposed that both he and she had remembered that it was so. But +hitherto not a word had been said between them on that point. Now she +was compelled to allude to it. "Cannot she live at the Castle for the +present?"</p> + +<p>"What;—all alone?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she is remaining there now."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he, "of course she is there now. Now! Why, remember what +these telegraphic messages are. He died only on yesterday morning. Of +course she is there, but I do not think it can be good that she +should remain there. There is no one near her where she is but that +Mrs. Askerton. It can hardly be good for her to have no other female +friend at such a time as this."</p> + +<p>"I do not think that Mrs. Askerton will hurt her."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Askerton will not hurt her at all,—and as long as Clara does +not know the story, Mrs. Askerton may serve as well as another. But +<span class="nowrap">yet—"</span></p> + +<p>"Can I go to her, Will?"</p> + +<p>"No, dearest. The journey would kill you in winter. And he would not +like it. We are bound to think of that for her sake,—cold-hearted, +thankless, meagre-minded creature as I know he is."</p> + +<p>"I do not know why he should be so bad."</p> + +<p>"No, nor I. But I know that he is. Never mind. Why should we talk +about him? I suppose she'll have to go there,—to Aylmer Park. I +suppose they will send for her, and keep her there till it's all +finished. I'll tell you what, Mary,—I shall give her the place."</p> + +<p>"What,—Belton Castle?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? Will it ever be of any good to you or me? Do you want to go +and live there?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed;—not for myself."</p> + +<p>"And do you think that I could live there? Besides, why should she be +turned out of her father's house?"</p> + +<p>"He would not be mean enough to take it."</p> + +<p>"He would be mean enough for anything. Besides, I should take very +good care that it should be settled upon her."</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense, Will;—it is indeed. You are now William Belton of +Belton, and you must remain so."</p> + +<p>"Mary,—I would sooner be Will Belton with Clara Amedroz by my side +to get through the world with me, and not the interest of an acre +either at Belton Castle or at Plaistow Hall! And I believe I should +be the richer man at the end,—if there were any good in that." Then +he went out of the room, and she heard him go through the kitchen, +and knew that he passed out into the farm-yard, towards the stable, +by the back-door. He intended, it seemed, to go on with his hunting +in spite of this death which had occurred. She was sorry for it, but +she could not venture to stop him. And she was sorry also that +nothing had been settled as to the writing of any letter to Clara. +She, however, would take upon herself to write while he was gone.</p> + +<p>He went straight out towards the stables, hardly conscious of what he +was doing or where he was going, and found his hack ready saddled for +him in the stall. Then he remembered that he must either go or come +to some decision that he would not go. The horse that he intended to +ride had been sent on to the meet, and if he were not to be used, +some message must be despatched as to the animal's return. But Will +was half inclined to go, although he knew that the world would judge +him to be heartless if he were to go hunting immediately on the +receipt of the tidings which had reached him that morning. He thought +that he would like to set the world at defiance in this matter. Let +Frederic Aylmer go into mourning for the old man who was dead. Let +Frederic Aylmer be solicitous for the daughter who was left lonely in +the old house. No doubt he, Will Belton, had inherited the dead man's +estate, and should, therefore, in accordance with all the ordinary +rules of the world on such matters, submit himself at any rate to the +decency of funereal reserve. An heir should not be seen out hunting +on the day on which such tidings as to his heritage had reached him. +But he did not wish, in his present mood, to be recognised as the +heir. He did not want the property. He would have preferred to rid +himself altogether of any of the obligations which the ownership of +the estate entailed upon him. It was not permitted to him to have the +custody of the old squire's daughter, and therefore he was unwilling +to meddle with any of the old squire's concerns.</p> + +<p>Belton had gone into the stable, and had himself loosed the animal, +leading him out into the yard as though he were about to mount him. +Then he had given the reins to a stable boy, and had walked away +among the farm buildings, not thinking of what he was doing. The lad +stood staring at him with open mouth, not at all understanding his +master's hesitation. The meet, as the boy knew, was fourteen miles +off, and Belton had not allowed himself above an hour and a half for +the journey. It was his practice to jump into the saddle and bustle +out of the place, as though seconds were important to him. He would +look at his watch with accuracy, and measure his pace from spot to +spot, as though minutes were too valuable to be lost. But now he +wandered away like one distraught, and the stable boy knew that +something was wrong. "I thout he was a thinken of the white cow as +choked 'erself with the tunnup that was skipped in the chopping," +said the boy, as he spoke of his master afterwards to the old groom. +At last, however, a thought seemed to strike Belton. "Do you get on +Brag," he said to the boy, "and ride off to Goldingham Corner, and +tell Daniel to bring the horse home again. I shan't hunt to-day. And +I think I shall go away from home. If so, tell him to be sure the +horses are out every morning;—and tell him to stop their beans. I +mightn't hunt again for the next month." Then he returned into the +house, and went to the parlour in which his sister was sitting. "I +shan't go out to-day," he said.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would not, Will," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Not that I see any harm in it."</p> + +<p>"I don't say that there is any harm, but it is as well on such +occasions to do as others do."</p> + +<p>"That's humbug, Mary."</p> + +<p>"No, Will; I do not think that. When any practice has become the +fixed rule of the society in which we live, it is always wise to +adhere to that rule, unless it call upon us to do something that is +actually wrong. One should not offend the prejudices of the world, +even if one is quite sure that they are prejudices."</p> + +<p>"It hasn't been that that has brought me back, Mary. I'll tell you +what. I think I'll go down to Belton—after all."</p> + +<p>His sister did not know what to say in answer to this. Her chief +anxiety was, of course, on behalf of her brother. That he should be +made to forget Clara Amedroz, if that were only possible, was her +great desire; and his journey at such a time as this down to Belton +was not the way to accomplish such forgetting. And then she felt that +Clara might very possibly not wish to see him. Had Will simply been +her cousin, such a visit might be very well; but he had attempted to +be more than her cousin, and therefore it would probably not be well. +Captain Aylmer might not like it; and Mary felt herself bound to +consider even Captain Aylmer's likings in such a matter. And yet she +could not bear to oppose him in anything. "It would be a very long +journey," she said.</p> + +<p>"What does that signify?"</p> + +<p>"And then it might so probably be for nothing."</p> + +<p>"Why should it be for nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Because—"</p> + +<p>"Because what? Why don't you speak out? You need not be afraid of +hurting me. Nothing that you can say can make it at all worse than it +is."</p> + +<p>"Dear Will, I wish I could make it better."</p> + +<p>"But you can't. Nobody can make it either better or worse. I promised +her once before that I would go to her when she might be in trouble, +and I will be as good as my word. I said I would be a brother to +her;—and so I will. So help me God, I will!" Then he rushed out of +the room, striding through the door as though he would knock it down, +and hurried up-stairs to his own chamber. When there he stripped +himself of his hunting things, and dressed himself again with all the +expedition in his power; and then he threw a heap of clothes into a +large portmanteau, and set himself to work packing as though +everything in the world were to depend upon his catching a certain +train. And he went to a locked drawer, and taking out a cheque-book, +folded it up and put it into his pocket. Then he rang the bell +violently; and as he was locking the portmanteau, pressing down the +lid with all his weight and all his strength, he ordered that a +certain mare should be put into a certain dog-cart, and that somebody +might be ready to drive over with him to the Downham Station. Within +twenty minutes of the time of his rushing up-stairs he appeared again +before his sister with a great-coat on, and a railway rug hanging +over his arm. "Do you mean that you are going to-day?" said she.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'll catch the 11.40 up-train at Downham. What's the good of +going unless I go at once? If I can be of any use it will be at the +first. It may be that she will have nobody there to do anything for +her."</p> + +<p>"There is the clergyman, and Colonel Askerton,—even if Captain +Aylmer has not gone down."</p> + +<p>"The clergyman and Colonel Askerton are nothing to her. And if that +man is there I can come back again."</p> + +<p>"You will not quarrel with him?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I quarrel with him? What is there to quarrel about? I'm +not such a fool as to quarrel with a man because I hate him. If he is +there I shall see her for a minute or two, and then I shall come +back."</p> + +<p>"I know it is no good my trying to dissuade you."</p> + +<p>"None on earth. If you knew it all you would not try to dissuade me. +Before I thought of asking her to be my wife,—and yet I thought of +that very soon;—but before I ever thought of that, I told her that +when she wanted a brother's help I would give it her. Of course I was +thinking of the property,—that she shouldn't be turned out of her +father's house like a beggar. I hadn't any settled plan then;—how +could I? But I meant her to understand that when her father died I +would be the same to her that I am to you. If you were alone, in +distress, would I not go to you?"</p> + +<p>"But I have no one else, Will," said she, stretching out her hand to +him where he stood.</p> + +<p>"That makes no difference," he replied, almost roughly. "A promise is +a promise, and I resolved from the first that my promise should hold +good in spite of my disappointment. Dear, dear;—it seems but the +other day when I made it,—and now, already, everything is changed." +As he was speaking the servant entered the room, and told him that +the horse and gig were ready for him. "I shall just do it nicely," +said he, looking at his watch. "I have over an hour. God bless you, +Mary. I shan't be away long. You may be sure of that."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose you can tell as yet, Will."</p> + +<p>"What should keep me long? I shall see Green as I go by, and that is +half of my errand. I dare say I shan't stay above a night down in +Somersetshire."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to give some orders about the estate."</p> + +<p>"I shall not say a word on the subject,—to anybody; that is, not to +anybody there. I am going to look after her, and not the estate." +Then he stooped down and kissed his sister, and in another minute was +turning the corner out of the farm-yard on to the road at a quick +pace, not losing a foot of ground in the turn, in that fashion of +rapidity which the horses at Plaistow Hall soon learned from their +master. The horse is a closely sympathetic beast, and will make his +turns, and do his trottings, and comport himself generally in strict +unison with the pulsations of his master's heart. When a horse won't +jump it is generally the case that the inner man is declining to jump +also, let the outer man seem ever so anxious to accomplish the feat.</p> + +<p>Belton, who was generally very communicative with his servants, +always talking to any man he might have beside him in his dog-cart +about the fields and cattle and tillage around him, said not a word +to the boy who accompanied him on this occasion. He had a good many +things to settle in his mind before he got to London, and he began +upon the work as soon as he had turned the corner out of the +farm-yard. As regarded this Belton estate, which was now altogether +his own, he had always had doubts and qualms,—qualms of feeling +rather than of conscience; and he had, also, always entertained a +strong family ambition. His people, ever so far back, had been +Beltons of Belton. They told him that his family could be traced back +to very early days,—before the Plantagenets, as he believed, though +on this point of the subject he was very hazy in his +information,—and he liked the idea of being the man by whom the +family should be reconstructed in its glory. Worldly circumstances +had been so kind to him, that he could take up the Belton estate with +more of the prestige of wealth than had belonged to any of the owners +of the place for many years past. Should it come to pass that living +there would be desirable, he could rebuild the old house, and make +new gardens, and fit himself out with all the pleasant braveries of a +well-to-do English squire. There need be no pinching and scraping, no +question whether a carriage would be possible, no doubt as to the +prudence of preserving game. All this had given much that was +delightful to his prospects. And he had, too, been instigated by a +somewhat weak desire to emerge from that farmer's rank into which he +knew that many connected with him had supposed him to have sunk. It +was true that he farmed land that was half his own,—and that, even +at Plaistow, he was a wealthy man; but Plaistow Hall, with all its +comforts, was a farm-house; and the ambition to be more than a farmer +had been strong upon him.</p> + +<p>But then there had been the feeling that in taking the Belton estate +he would be robbing his cousin Clara of all that should have been +hers. It must be remembered that he had not been brought up in the +belief that he would ever become the owner of Belton. All his high +ambition in that matter had originated with the wretched death of +Clara's brother. Could he bring himself to take it all with pleasure, +seeing that it came to him by so sad a chance,—by a catastrophe so +deplorable? When he would think of this, his mind would revolt from +its own desires, and he would declare to himself that his inheritance +would come to him with a stain of blood upon it. He, indeed, would +have been guiltless; but how could he take his pleasure in the shades +of Belton without thinking of the tragedy which had given him the +property? Such had been the thoughts and desires, mixed in their +nature and militating against each other, which had induced him to +offer his first visit to his cousin's house. We know what was the +effect of that visit, and by what pleasant scheme he had endeavoured +to overcome all his difficulties, and so to become master of Belton +that Clara Amedroz should also be its mistress. There had been a way +which, after two days' intimacy with Clara, seemed to promise him +comfort and happiness on all sides. But he had come too late, and +that way was closed against him! Now the estate was his, and what was +he to do with it? Clara belonged to his rival, and in what way would +it become him to treat her? He was still thinking simply of the +cruelty of the circumstances which had thrown Captain Aylmer between +him and his cousin, when he drove himself up to the railway station +at Downham.</p> + +<p>"Take her back steady, Jem," he said to the boy.</p> + +<p>"I'll be sure to take her wery steady," Jem answered.</p> + +<p>"And tell Compton to have the samples of barley ready for me. I may +be back any day, and we shall be sowing early this spring."</p> + +<p>Then he left his cart, followed the porter who had taken his luggage +eagerly, knowing that Mr. Belton was always good for sixpence, and in +five minutes' time he was again in motion.</p> + +<p>On his arrival in London he drove at once to the chambers of his +friend, Mr. Green, and luckily found the lawyer there. Had he missed +doing this, it was his intention to go out to his friend's house; and +in that case he could not have gone down to Taunton till the next +morning; but now he would be able to say what he wished to say, and +hear what he wished to hear, and would travel down by the night-mail +train. He was anxious that Clara should feel that he had hurried to +her without a moment's delay. It would do no good. He knew that. +Nothing that he could do would alter her, or be of any service to +him. She had accepted this man, and had herself no power of making a +change, even if she should wish it. But still there was to him +something of gratification in the idea that she should be made to +feel that he, Belton, was more instant in his affection, more urgent +in his good offices, more anxious to befriend her in her +difficulties, than the man whom she had consented to take for her +husband. Aylmer would probably go down to Belton, but Will was very +anxious to be the first on the ground,—very anxious,—though his +doing so could be of no use. All this was wrong on his part. He knew +that it was wrong, and he abused himself for his own selfishness. But +such self-abuse gave him no aid in escaping from his own wickedness. +He would, if possible, be at Belton before Captain Aylmer; and he +would, if possible, make Clara feel that, though he was not a member +of Parliament, though he was not much given to books, though he was +only a farmer, yet he had at any rate as much heart and spirit as the +fine gentleman whom she preferred to him.</p> + +<p>"I thought I should see you," said the lawyer; "but I hardly expected +you so soon as this."</p> + +<p>"I ought to have been a day sooner, only we don't get our telegraphic +messages on a Sunday." He still kept his great-coat on; and it seemed +by his manner that he had no intention of staying where he was above +a minute or two.</p> + +<p>"You'll come out and dine with me to-day?" said Mr. Green.</p> + +<p>"I can't do that, for I shall go down by the mail train."</p> + +<p>"I never saw such a fellow in my life. What good will that do? It is +quite right that you should be there in time for the funeral; but I +don't suppose he will be buried before this day week."</p> + +<p>But Belton had never thought about the funeral. When he had spoken to +his sister of saying but a few words to Clara and then returning, he +had forgotten that there would be any such ceremony, or that he would +be delayed by any such necessity.</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking about the funeral," said Belton.</p> + +<p>"You'll only find yourself uncomfortable there."</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall be uncomfortable."</p> + +<p>"You can't do anything about the property, you know."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by doing anything?" said Belton, in an angry tone.</p> + +<p>"You can't very well take possession of the place, at any rate, till +after the funeral. It would not be considered the proper thing to +do."</p> + +<p>"You think, then, that I'm a bird of prey, smelling the feast from +afar off, and hurrying at the dead man's carcase as soon as the +breath is out of his body?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think anything of the kind, my dear fellow."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do, or you wouldn't talk to me about doing the proper +thing! I don't care a straw about the proper thing! If I find that +there's anything to be done to-morrow that can be of any use, I shall +do it, though all Somersetshire should think it improper! But I'm not +going to look after my own interests!"</p> + +<p>"Take off your coat and sit down, Will, and don't look so angry at +me. I know that you're not greedy, well enough. Tell me what you are +going to do, and let me see if I can help you."</p> + +<p>Belton did as he was told; he pulled off his coat and sat himself +down by the fire. "I don't know that you can do anything to help +me,—at least, not as yet. But I must go and see after her. Perhaps +she may be all alone."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she is all alone."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't gone down, then?"</p> + +<p>"Who;—Captain Aylmer? No;—he hasn't gone down, certainly. He is in +Yorkshire."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of that!"</p> + +<p>"He won't hurry himself. He never does, I fancy. I had a letter from +him this morning about Miss Amedroz."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He desired me to send her seventy-five pounds,—the interest of her +aunt's money."</p> + +<p>"Seventy-five pounds!" said Will Belton, contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"He thought she might want money at once; and I sent her the cheque +to-day. It will go down by the same train that carries you."</p> + +<p>"Seventy-five pounds! And you are sure that he has not gone himself?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't likely that he should have written to me, and passed +through London himself, at the same time;—but it is possible, no +doubt. I don't think he even knew the old squire; and there is no +reason why he should go to the funeral."</p> + +<p>"No reason at all," said Belton,—who felt that Captain Aylmer's +presence at the Castle would be an insult to himself. "I don't know +what on earth he should do there,—except that I think him just the +fellow to intrude where he is not wanted." And yet Will was in his +heart despising Captain Aylmer because he had not already hurried +down to the assistance of the girl whom he professed to love.</p> + +<p>"He is engaged to her, you know," said the lawyer, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"What difference does that make with such a fellow as he is, a +cold-blooded fish of a man, who thinks of nothing in the world but +being respectable? Engaged to her! Oh, damn him!"</p> + +<p>"I've not the slightest objection. I don't think, however, that +you'll find him at Belton before you. No doubt she will have heard +from him; and it strikes me as very possible that she may go to +Aylmer Park."</p> + +<p>"What should she go there for?"</p> + +<p>"Would it not be the best place for her?"</p> + +<p>"No. My house would be the best place for her. I am her nearest +relative. Why should she not come to us?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Green turned round his chair and poked the fire, and fidgeted +about for some moments before he answered. "My dear fellow, you must +know that that wouldn't do." He then said, "You ought to feel that it +wouldn't do;—you ought indeed."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't my sister receive Miss Amedroz as well as that old +woman down in Yorkshire?"</p> + +<p>"If I may tell you, I will."</p> + +<p>"Of course you may tell me."</p> + +<p>"Because Miss Amedroz is engaged to be married to that old woman's +son, and is not engaged to be married to your sister's brother. The +thing is done, and what is the good of interfering. As far as she is +concerned, a great burden is off your hands."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by a burden?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that her engagement to Captain Aylmer makes it unnecessary +for you to suppose that she is in want of any pecuniary assistance. +You told me once before that you would feel yourself called upon to +see that she wanted nothing."</p> + +<p>"So I do now."</p> + +<p>"But Captain Aylmer will look after that."</p> + +<p>"I tell you what it is, Joe; I mean to settle the Belton property in +such a way that she shall have it, and that he shan't be able to +touch it. And it shall go to some one who shall have my +name,—William Belton. That's what I want you to arrange for me."</p> + +<p>"After you are dead, you mean."</p> + +<p>"I mean now, at once. I won't take the estate from her. I hate the +place and everything belonging to it. I don't mean her. There is no +reason for hating her."</p> + +<p>"My dear Will, you are talking nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Why is it nonsense? I may give what belongs to me to whom I please."</p> + +<p>"You can do nothing of the kind;—at any rate, not by my assistance. +You talk as though the world were all over with you,—as though you +were never to be married or have any children of your own."</p> + +<p>"I shall never marry."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Will. Don't make such an ass of yourself as to suppose +that you'll not get over such a thing as this. You'll be married and +have a dozen children yet to provide for. Let the eldest have Belton +Castle, and everything will go on then in the proper way."</p> + +<p>Belton had now got the poker into his hands, and sat silent for some +time, knocking the coals about. Then he got up, and took his hat, and +put on his coat. "Of course I can't make you understand me," he said; +"at any rate not all at once. I'm not such a fool as to want to give +up my property just because a girl is going to be married to a man I +don't like. I'm not such an ass as to give him my estate for such a +reason as that;—for it will be giving it to him, let me tie it up as +I may. But I've a feeling about it which makes it impossible for me +to take it. How would you like to get a thing by another fellow +having destroyed himself?"</p> + +<p>"You can't help that. It's yours by law."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is. I know that. And as it's mine I can do what I like +with it. Well;—good-bye. When I've got anything to say, I'll write." +Then he went down to his cab and had himself driven to the Great +Western Railway Hotel.</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer had sent to his betrothed seventy-five pounds; the +exact interest at five per cent. for one year of the sum which his +aunt had left her. This was the first subject of which Belton thought +when he found himself again in the railway carriage, and he continued +thinking of it half the way down to Taunton. Seventy-five pounds! As +though this favoured lover were prepared to give her exactly her due, +and nothing more than her due! Had he been so placed, he, Will +Belton, what would he have done? Seventy-five pounds might have been +more money than she would have wanted, for he would have taken her to +his own house,—to his own bosom, as soon as she would have +permitted, and would have so laboured on her behalf, taking from her +shoulders all money troubles, that there would have been no question +as to principal or interest between them. At any rate he would not +have confined himself to sending to her the exact sum which was her +due. But then Aylmer was a cold-blooded man,—more like a fish than a +man. Belton told himself over and over again that he had discovered +that at the single glance which he had had when he saw Captain Aylmer +in Green's chambers. Seventy-five pounds indeed! He himself was +prepared to give his whole estate to her, if she would take it,—even +though she would not marry him, even though she was going to throw +herself away upon that fish! Then he felt somewhat as Hamlet did when +he jumped upon Laertes at the grave of Ophelia. Send her seventy-five +pounds indeed, while he was ready to drink up Esil for her, or to +make over to her the whole Belton estate, and thus abandon the idea +for ever of being Belton of Belton!</p> + +<p>He reached Taunton in the middle of the night,—during the small +hours of the morning in a winter night; but yet he could not bring +himself to go to bed. So he knocked up an ostler at the nearest inn, +and ordered out a gig. He would go down to the village of Redicote, +on the Minehead road, and put up at the public-house there. He could +not now have himself driven at once to Belton Castle, as he would +have done had the old squire been alive. He fancied that his presence +would be a nuisance if he did so. So he went to the little inn at +Redicote, reaching that place between four and five o'clock in the +morning; and very uncomfortable he was when he got there. But in his +present frame of mind he preferred discomfort. He liked being tired +and cold, and felt, when he was put into a chill room, without fire, +and with a sanded floor, that things with him were as they ought to +be.</p> + +<p>Yes,—he could have a fly over to Belton Castle after breakfast. +Having learned so much, and ordered a dish of eggs and bacon for his +morning's breakfast, he went up-stairs to a miserable little bedroom, +to dress himself after his night's journey.</p> + + +<p><a name="c21" id="c21"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> +<h4>MRS. ASKERTON'S GENEROSITY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>The death of the old man at Belton Castle had been very sudden. At +three o'clock in the morning Clara had been called into his room, and +at five o'clock she was alone in the world,—having neither father, +mother, nor brother; without a home, without a shilling that she +could call her own;—with no hope as to her future life, if,—as she +had so much reason to suppose,—Captain Aylmer should have chosen to +accept her last letter as a ground for permanent separation. But at +this moment, on this saddest morning, she did not care much for that +chance. It seemed to be almost indifferent to her, that question of +Lady Aylmer and her anger. The more that she was absolutely in need +of external friendship, the more disposed was she to reject it, and +to declare to herself that she was prepared to stand alone in the +world.</p> + +<p>For the last week she had understood from the doctor that her father +was in truth sinking, and that she might hardly hope ever to see him +again convalescent. She had therefore in some sort prepared herself +for her loneliness, and anticipated the misery of her position. As +soon as it was known to the women in the room that life had left the +old man, one of them had taken her by the hand and led her back to +her own chamber. "Now, Miss Clara, you had better lie down on the bed +again;—you had indeed; you can do nothing sitting up." She took the +old woman's advice, and allowed them to do with her as they would. It +was true that there was no longer any work by which she could make +herself useful in that house,—in that house, or, as far as she could +see, in any other. Yes; she would go to bed, and lying there would +feel how convenient it would be for many persons if she also could be +taken away to her long rest, as her father, and aunt, and brother had +been taken before her. Her name and family had been unfortunate, and +it would be well that there should be no Amedroz left to trouble +those more fortunate persons who were to come after them. In her +sorrow and bitterness she included both her cousin Will and Captain +Aylmer among those more fortunate ones for whose sake it might be +well that she should be made to vanish from off the earth. She had +read Captain Aylmer's letter over and over again since she had +answered it, and had read nearly as often the copy of her own +reply,—and had told herself, as she read them, that of course he +would not forgive her. He might perhaps pardon her, if she would +submit to him in everything; but that she would not submit to his +commands respecting Mrs. Askerton she was fully resolved,—and, +therefore, there could be no hope. Then, when she remembered how +lately her dear father's spirit had fled, she hated herself for +having allowed her mind to dwell on anything beyond her loss of him.</p> + +<p>She was still in her bedroom, having fallen into that half-waking +slumber which the numbness of sorrow so often produces, when word was +brought to her that Mrs. Askerton was in the house. It was the first +time that Mrs. Askerton had ever crossed the door, and the +remembrance that it was so came upon her at once. During her father's +lifetime it had seemed to be understood that their neighbour should +have no admittance there;—but now,—now that her father was +gone,—the barrier was to be overthrown. And why not? Why should not +Mrs. Askerton come to her? Why, if Mrs. Askerton chose to be kind to +her, should she not altogether throw herself into her friend's arms? +Of course her doing so would give mortal offence to everybody at +Aylmer Park; but why need she stop to think of that? She had already +made up her mind that she would not obey orders from Aylmer Park on +this subject.</p> + +<p>She had not seen Mrs. Askerton since that interview between them +which was described some few chapters back. Then everything had been +told between them, so that there was no longer any mystery either on +the one side or on the other. Then Clara had assured her friend of +her loving friendship in spite of any edicts to the contrary which +might come from Aylmer Park; and after that what could be more +natural than that Mrs. Askerton should come to her in her sorrow. +"She says she'll come up to you if you'll let her," said the servant. +But Clara declined this proposition, and in a few minutes went down +to the small parlour in which she had lately lived, and where she +found her visitor.</p> + +<p>"My poor dear, this has been very sudden," said Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>"Very sudden;—very sudden. And yet, now that he has gone, I know +that I expected it."</p> + +<p>"Of course I came to you as soon as I heard of it, because I knew you +were all alone. If there had been any one else I should not have +come."</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you."</p> + +<p>"Colonel Askerton thought that perhaps he had better come. I told him +of all that which we said to each other the other day. He thought at +first that it would be better that I should not see you."</p> + +<p>"It was very good of you to come," said Clara again, and as she spoke +she put out her hand and took Mrs. Askerton's,—continuing to hold it +for awhile; "very good indeed."</p> + +<p>"I told him that I could not but go down to you,—that I thought you +would not understand it if I stayed away."</p> + +<p>"At any rate it was good of you to come to me."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe," said Mrs. Askerton, "that what people call +consolation is ever of any use. It is a terrible thing to lose a +father."</p> + +<p>"Very terrible. Ah, dear, I have hardly yet found out how sad it is. +As yet I have only been thinking of myself, and wishing that I could +be with him."</p> + +<p>"Nay, Clara."</p> + +<p>"How can I help it? What am I to do, or where am I to go? Of what use +is life to such a one as me? And for him,—who would dare to wish him +back again? When people have fallen and gone down in the world it is +bad for them to go on living. Everything is a trouble, and there is +nothing but vexation."</p> + +<p>"Think what I have suffered, dear."</p> + +<p>"But you have had somebody to care for you,—somebody whom you could +trust."</p> + +<p>"And have not you?"</p> + +<p>"No; no one."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"I mean what I say. I have no one. It is no use asking +questions,—not now, at such a time as this. And I did not mean to +complain. Complaining is weak and foolish. I have often told myself +that I could bear anything, and so I will. When I can bring myself to +think of what I have lost in my father I shall be better, even though +I shall be more sorrowful. As it is, I hate myself for being so +selfish."</p> + +<p>"You will let me come and stay with you to-day, will you not?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear; not to-day."</p> + +<p>"Why not to-day, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be better alone. I have so many things to think of."</p> + +<p>"I know well that it would be better that you should not be +alone,—much better. But I will not press it. I cannot insist with +you as another woman would."</p> + +<p>"You are wrong there; quite wrong. I would be led by you sooner than +by any woman living. What other woman is there to whom I would listen +for a moment?" As she said this, even in the depth of her sorrow she +thought of Lady Aylmer, and strengthened herself in her resolution to +rebel against her lover's mother. Then she continued, "I wish I knew +my cousin Mary,—Mary Belton; but I have never seen her."</p> + +<p>"Is she nice?"</p> + +<p>"So Will tells me; and I know that what he says must be true,—even +about his sister."</p> + +<p>"Will, Will! You are always thinking of your cousin Will. If he be +really so good he will show it now."</p> + +<p>"How can he show it? What can he do?"</p> + +<p>"Does he not inherit all the property?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he does. And what of that? When I say that I have no +friend I am not thinking of my poverty."</p> + +<p>"If he has that regard for you which he pretends, he can do much to +assist you. Why should he not come here at once?"</p> + +<p>"God forbid."</p> + +<p>"Why? Why do you say so? He is your nearest relative."</p> + +<p>"If you do not understand I cannot explain."</p> + +<p>"Has he been told what has happened?" Mrs. Askerton asked.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Askerton sent a message to him, I believe."</p> + +<p>"And to Captain Aylmer also?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and to Captain Aylmer. It was Colonel Askerton who sent it."</p> + +<p>"Then he will come, of course."</p> + +<p>"I think not. Why should he come? He did not even know poor papa."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Clara, has he not known you?"</p> + +<p>"You will see that he will not come. And I tell you beforehand that +he will be right to stay away. Indeed, I do not know how he could +come;—and I do not want him here."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand you, Clara."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not. I cannot very well understand myself."</p> + +<p>"I should not be at all surprised if Lady Aylmer were to come +herself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, heavens! How little you can know of Lady Aylmer's position and +character!"</p> + +<p>"But if she is to be your mother-in-law?"</p> + +<p>"And even if she were! The idea of Lady Aylmer coming away from +Aylmer Park,—all the way from Yorkshire, to such a house as this! If +they told me that the Queen was coming it would hardly disconcert me +more. But, dear, there is no danger of that at least."</p> + +<p>"I do not know what may have passed between you and him; but unless +there has been some quarrel he will come. That is, he will do so if +he is at all like any men whom I have known."</p> + +<p>"He will not come."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Askerton made some half-whispered offers of services to be +rendered by Colonel Askerton, and soon afterwards took her leave, +having first asked permission to come again in the afternoon, and +when that was declined, having promised to return on the following +morning. As she walked back to the cottage she could not but think +more of Clara's engagement to Captain Aylmer than she did of the +squire's death. As regarded herself, of course she could not grieve +for Mr. Amedroz; and as regarded Clara, Clara's father had for some +time past been apparently so insignificant, even in his own house, +that it was difficult to acknowledge the fact that the death of such +a one as he might leave a great blank in the world. But what had +Clara meant by declaring so emphatically that Captain Aylmer would +not visit Belton, and by speaking of herself as one who had neither +position nor friends in the world? If there had been a quarrel, +indeed, then it was sufficiently intelligible;—and if there was any +such quarrel, from what source must it have arisen? Mrs. Askerton +felt the blood rise to her cheeks as she thought of this, and told +herself that there could be but one such source. Mrs. Askerton knew +that Clara had received orders from Aylmer Castle to discontinue all +acquaintance with herself, and, therefore, there could be no doubt as +to the cause of the quarrel. It had come to this then, that Clara was +to lose her husband because she was true to her friend; or rather +because she would not consent to cast an additional stone at one who +for some years past had become a mark for many stones.</p> + +<p>I am not prepared to say that Mrs. Askerton was a high-minded woman. +Misfortunes had come upon her in life of a sort which are too apt to +quench high nobility of mind in woman. There are calamities which, by +their natural tendencies, elevate the character of women and add +strength to the growth of feminine virtues;—but then, again, there +are other calamities which few women can bear without some +degradation, without some injury to that delicacy and tenderness +which is essentially necessary to make a woman charming,—as a woman. +In this, I think, the world is harder to women than to men; that a +woman often loses much by the chance of adverse circumstances which a +man only loses by his own misconduct. That there are women whom no +calamity can degrade is true enough;—and so it is true that there +are some men who are heroes; but such are exceptions both among men +and women. Not such a one had Mrs. Askerton been. Calamity had come +upon her;—partly, indeed, by her own fault, though that might have +been pardoned;—but the weight of her misfortunes had been too great +for her strength, and she had become in some degree hardened by what +she had endured; if not unfeminine, still she was feminine in an +inferior degree, with womanly feelings of a lower order. And she had +learned to intrigue, not being desirous of gaining aught by dishonest +intriguing, but believing that she could only hold her own by +carrying on her battle after that fashion. In all this I am speaking +of the general character of the woman, and am not alluding to the one +sin which she had committed. Thus, when she had first become +acquainted with Miss Amedroz, her conscience had not rebuked her in +that she was deceiving her new friend. When asked casually in +conversation as to her maiden name, she had not blushed as she +answered the question with a falsehood. When, unfortunately, the name +of her first husband had in some way made itself known to Clara she +had been ready again with some prepared fib. And when she had +recognised William Belton, she had thought that the danger to herself +of having any one near her who might know her, quite justified her in +endeavouring to create ill-will between Clara and her cousin. +"Self-preservation is the first law of nature," she would have said; +and would have failed to remember, as she did always fail to +remember,—that nature does not require by any of its laws that +self-preservation should be aided by falsehood.</p> + +<p>But though she was not high-minded, so also was she not ungenerous; +and now, as she began to understand that Clara was sacrificing +herself because of that promise which had been given when they two +had stood together at the window in the cottage drawing-room, she was +capable of feeling more for her friend than for herself. She was +capable even of telling herself that it was cruel on her part even to +wish for any continuance of Clara's acquaintance. "I have made my +bed, and I must lie upon it," she said to herself; and then she +resolved that, instead of going up to the house on the following day, +she would write to Clara, and put an end to the intimacy which +existed between them. "The world is hard, and harsh, and unjust," she +said, still speaking to herself. "But that is not her fault; I will +not injure her because I have been injured myself."</p> + +<p>Colonel Askerton was up at the house on the same day, but he did not +ask for Miss Amedroz, nor did she see him. Nobody else came to the +house then, or on the following morning, or on that afternoon, though +Clara did not fail to tell herself that Captain Aylmer might have +been there if he had chosen to take the journey and to leave home as +soon as he had received the message; and she made the same +calculation as to her cousin Will,—though in that calculation, as we +know, she was wrong. These two days had been very desolate with her, +and she had begun to look forward to Mrs. Askerton's coming,—when +instead of that there came a messenger with a letter from the +cottage.</p> + +<p>"You can do as you like, my dear," Colonel Askerton had said on the +previous evening to his wife. He had listened to all she had been +saying without taking his eyes from off his newspaper, though she had +spoken with much eagerness.</p> + +<p>"But that is not enough. You should say more to me than that."</p> + +<p>"Now I think you are unreasonable. For myself, I do not care how this +matter goes; nor do I care one straw what any tongues may say. They +cannot reach me, excepting so far as they may reach me through you."</p> + +<p>"But you should advise me."</p> + +<p>"I always do,—copiously, when I think that I know better than you; +but in this matter I feel so sure that you know better than I, that I +don't wish to suggest anything." Then he went on with his newspaper, +and she sat for a while looking at him, as though she expected that +something more would be said. But nothing more was said, and she was +left entirely to her own guidance.</p> + +<p>Since the days in which her troubles had come upon Mrs. Askerton, +Clara Amedroz was the first female friend who had come near her to +comfort her, and she was very loth to abandon such comfort. There +had, too, been something more than comfort, something almost +approaching to triumph, when she found that Clara had clung to her +with affection after hearing the whole story of her life. Though her +conscience had not pricked her while she was exercising all her +little planned deceits, she had not taken much pleasure in them. How +should any one take pleasure in such work? Many of us daily deceive +our friends, and are so far gone in deceit that the deceit alone is +hardly painful to us. But the need of deceiving a friend is always +painful. The treachery is easy; but to be treacherous to those we +love is never easy,—never easy, even though it be so common. There +had been a double delight to this poor woman in the near +neighbourhood of Clara Amedroz since there had ceased to be any +necessity for falsehood on her part. But now, almost before her joy +had commenced, almost before she had realised the sweetness of her +triumph, had come upon her this task of doing that herself which +Clara in her generosity had refused to do. "I have made my bed and I +must lie upon it," she said. And then, instead of going down to the +house as she had promised, she wrote the following letter to Miss +<span class="nowrap">Amedroz:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Cottage, Monday.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest +Clara</span>,—I need not tell you that I write as I do +now with a bleeding heart. A few days since I should have +laughed at any woman who used such a phrase of herself, +and declared her to be an affected fool; but now I know +how true such a word may be. My heart is bleeding, and I +feel myself to be overcome by my disgrace. You told me +that I did not understand you yesterday. Of course I +understood you. Of course I know how it all is, and why +you spoke as you did of Captain Aylmer. He has chosen to +think that you could not know me without pollution, and +has determined that you must give up either me or him. +Though he has judged me I am not going to judge him. The +world is on his side; and, perhaps, he is right. He knows +nothing of my trials and difficulties,—and why should he? +I do not blame him for demanding that his future wife +shall not be intimate with a woman who is supposed to have +lost her fitness for the society of women.</p> + +<p>At any rate, dearest, you must obey him,—and we will see +each other no more. I am quite sure that I should be very +wicked were I to allow you to injure your position in life +on my account. You at any rate love him, and would be +happy with him, and as you are engaged to him, you have no +just ground for resenting his interference.</p> + +<p>You will understand me now as well as though I were to +fill sheets and sheets of paper with what I could say on +the subject. The simple fact is, that you and I must +forget each other, or simply remember one another as past +friends. You will know in a day or two what your plans +are. If you remain here, we will go away. If you go away, +we will remain here;—that is, if your cousin will keep us +as tenants. I do not of course know what you may have +written to Captain Aylmer since our interview up here, but +I beg that you will write to him now, and make him +understand that he need have no fears in respect of me. +You may send him this letter if you will. Oh, dear! if you +could know what I suffer as I write this.</p> + +<p>I feel that I owe you an apology for harassing you on such +a subject at such a time; but I know that I ought not to +lose a day in telling you that you are to see nothing more +of the friend who has loved you.</p> + +<p class="ind16"><span class="smallcaps">Mary Askerton</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Clara's first impulse on receiving this letter was to go off at once +to the cottage, and insist on her privilege of choosing her own +friends. If she preferred Mrs. Askerton to Captain Aylmer, that was +no one's business but her own. And she would have done so had she not +been afraid of meeting with Colonel Askerton. To him she would not +have known how to speak on such a subject;—nor would she have known +how to conduct herself at the cottage without speaking of it. And +then, after a while, she felt that were she to do so,—should she now +deliberately determine to throw herself into Mrs. Askerton's +arms,—she must at the same time give up all idea of becoming Captain +Aylmer's wife. As she thought of this she asked herself various +questions concerning him, which she did not find it easy to answer. +Did she wish to be his wife? Could she assure herself that if they +were married they would make each other happy? Did she love him? She +was still able to declare to herself that the answer to the last +question should be an affirmative; but, nevertheless, she thought +that she could give him up without great unhappiness. And when she +began to think of Lady Aylmer, and to remember that Frederic Aylmer's +imperative demands upon her obedience had, in all probability, been +dictated by his mother, she was again anxious to go at once to the +cottage, and declare that she would not submit to any interference +with her own judgment.</p> + +<p>On the next morning the postman brought to her a letter which was of +much moment to her,—but he brought to her also tidings which moved +her more even than the letter. The letter was from the lawyer, and +enclosed a cheque for seventy-five pounds, which he had been +instructed to pay to her, as the interest of the money left to her by +her aunt. What should be her answer to that letter she knew very +well,—and she instantly wrote it, sending back the cheque to Mr. +Green. The postman's news, more important than the letter, told her +that William Belton was at the inn at Redicote.</p> + + +<p><a name="c22" id="c22"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> +<h4>PASSIONATE PLEADING.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Clara wrote her letter to the lawyer, returning the cheque, before +she would allow herself a moment to dwell upon the news of her +cousin's arrival. She felt that it was necessary to do that before +she should even see her cousin,—thus providing against any +difficulty which might arise from adverse advice on his part; and as +soon as the letter was written she sent it to the post-office in the +village. She would do almost anything that Will might tell her to do, +but Captain Aylmer's money she would not take, even though Will might +so direct her. They would tell her, no doubt, among them, that the +money was her own,—that she might take it without owing any thanks +for it to Captain Aylmer. But she knew better than that,—as she told +herself over and over again. Her aunt had left her nothing, and +nothing would she have from Captain Aylmer,—unless she had all that +Captain Aylmer had to give, after the fashion in which women best +love to take such gifts.</p> + +<p>Then, when she had done that, she was able to think of her cousin's +visit. "I knew he would come," she said to herself, as she sat +herself in one of the old chairs in the hall, with a large shawl +wrapped round her shoulders. She had just been to the front door, +with the nominal purpose of despatching her messenger thence to the +post-office; but she had stood for a minute or two under the portico, +looking in the direction by which Belton would come from Redicote, +expecting, or rather hoping, that she might see his figure or hear +the sound of his gig. But she saw nothing and heard nothing, and so +returned into the hall, slowly shutting the door. "I knew that he +would come," she said, repeating to herself the same words, over and +over again. Yet when Mrs. Askerton had told her that he would do this +thing which he had now done, she had expressed herself as almost +frightened by the idea. "God forbid," she had said. Nevertheless now +that he was there at Redicote, she assured herself that his coming +was a thing of which she had been certain; and she took a joy in the +knowledge of his nearness to her which she did not attempt to define +to herself. Had he not said that he would be a brother to her, and +was it not a brother's part to go to a sister in affliction? "I knew +that he would come. I was sure of it. He is so true." As to Captain +Aylmer's not coming she said nothing, even to herself; but she felt +that she had been equally sure on that subject. Of course, Captain +Aylmer would not come! He had sent her seventy-five pounds in lieu of +coming, and in doing so was true to his character. Both men were +doing exactly that which was to have been expected of them. So at +least Clara Amedroz now assured herself. She did not ask herself how +it was that she had come to love the thinner and the meaner of the +two men, but she knew well that such had been her fate.</p> + +<p>On a sudden she rose from her chair, as though remembering a duty to +be performed, and went to the kitchen and directed that breakfast +might be got ready for Mr. Belton. He would have travelled all +night,—and would be in want of food. Since the old squire's death +there had been no regular meal served in the house, and Clara had +taken such scraps of food and cups of tea as the old servant of the +house had brought to her. But now the cloth must be spread again, and +as she did this with her own hands she remembered the dinners which +had been prepared for Captain Aylmer at Perivale after his aunt's +death. It seemed to her that she was used to be in the house with +death, and that the sadness and solemn ceremonies of woe were +becoming things familiar to her. There grew upon her a feeling that +it must be so with her always. The circumstances of her life would +ever be sad. What right had she to expect any other fate after such a +catastrophe as that which her brother had brought upon the family? It +was clear to her that she had done wrong in supposing that she could +marry and live with a prosperous man of the world like Captain +Aylmer. Their natures were different, and no such union could lead to +any good. So she told herself, with much misery of spirit, as she was +preparing the breakfast-table for William Belton.</p> + +<p>But William Belton did not come to eat the breakfast. He got what he +wanted in that way at the inn at Redicote, and even then hesitated, +loitering at the bar, before he would go over. What was he to say, +and how would he be received? After all, had he not done amiss in +coming to a house at which he probably might not be wanted? Would it +not be thought that his journey had been made solely with a view to +his own property? He would be regarded as the heir pouncing upon the +inheritance before as yet the old owner was under the ground. At any +rate it would be too early for him to make his visit yet awhile; and, +to kill time, he went over to a carpenter who had been employed by +him about the place at Belton. The carpenter spoke to him as though +everything were his own, and was very intent upon future +improvements. This made Will more disgusted with himself than ever, +and before he could get out of the carpenter's yard he thoroughly +wished himself back at Plaistow. But having come so far, he could +hardly return without seeing his cousin, and at last he had himself +driven over, reaching the house between eleven and twelve o'clock in +the day.</p> + +<p>Clara met him in the hall, and at once led him into the room which +she had prepared for him. He had given her his hand in the hall, but +did not speak to her till she had spoken to him after the closing of +the room door behind them. "I thought that you would come," she said, +still holding him by the hand.</p> + +<p>"I did not know what to do," he answered. "I couldn't say which was +best. Now I am here I shall only be in your way." He did not dare to +press her hand, nor could he bring himself to take his away from her.</p> + +<p>"In my way;—yes; as an angel, to tell me what to do in my trouble. I +knew you would come, because you are so good. But you will have +breakfast;—see, I have got it ready for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh no; I breakfasted at Redicote. I would not trouble you."</p> + +<p>"Trouble me, Will! Oh, Will, if you knew!" Then there came tears in +her eyes, and at the sight of them both his own were filled. How was +he to stand it? To take her to his bosom and hold her there for +always; to wipe away her tears so that she should weep no more; to +devote himself and all his energy and all that was his to comfort +her,—this he could have done; but he knew not how to do anything +short of this. Every word that she spoke to him was an encouragement +to this, and yet he knew that it could not be so. To say a word of +his love, or even to look it, would now be an unmanly insult. And +yet, how was he not to look it,—not to speak of it? "It is such a +comfort that you should be here with me," she said.</p> + +<p>"Then I am glad I am here, though I do not know what I can do. Did he +suffer much, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"No, I think not; very little. He sank at last quicker than I +expected, but just as I thought he would go. He used to speak of you +so often, and always with regard and esteem!"</p> + +<p>"Dear old man!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Will; he was, in spite of his little faults. No father ever +loved his daughter better than he loved me."</p> + +<p>After a while the servant brought in the tea, explaining to Belton +that Miss Clara had neither eaten nor drank that morning. "She +wouldn't take anything till you came, sir." Then Will added his +entreaties, and Clara was persuaded, and by degrees there grew +between them more ease of manner and capability for talking than had +been within their reach when they first met. And during the morning +many things were explained, as to which Clara would a few hours +previously have thought it to be almost impossible that she should +speak to her cousin. She had told him of her aunt's money, and the +way in which she had on that very morning sent back the cheque to the +lawyer; and she had said something also as to Lady Aylmer's views, +and her own views as to Lady Aylmer. With Will this subject was one +most difficult of discussion; and he blushed and fidgeted in his +chair, and walked about the room, and found himself unable to look +Clara in the face as she spoke to him. But she went on, goading him +with the name, which of all names was the most distasteful to him; +and mentioning that name almost in terms of reproach,—of reproach +which he felt it would be ungenerous to reciprocate, but which he +would have exaggerated to unmeasured abuse if he had given his tongue +licence to speak his mind.</p> + +<p>"I was right to send back the money;—wasn't I, Will? Say that I was +right. Pray tell me that you think so!"</p> + +<p>"I don't understand it at present, you see; I am no lawyer."</p> + +<p>"But it doesn't want a lawyer to know that I couldn't take the money +from him. I am sure you feel that."</p> + +<p>"If a man owes money of course he ought to pay it."</p> + +<p>"But he doesn't owe it, Will. It is intended for generosity."</p> + +<p>"You don't want anybody's generosity, certainly." Then he reflected +that Clara must, after all, depend entirely on the generosity of some +one till she was married; and he wanted to explain to her that +everything he had in the world was at her service,—was indeed her +own. Or he would have explained, if he knew how, that he did not +intend to take advantage of the entail,—that the Belton estate +should belong to her as the natural heir of her father. But he +conceived that the moment for explaining this had hardly as yet +arrived, and that he had better confine himself to some attempt at +teaching her that no extraneous assistance would be necessary to her. +"In money matters," said he, "of course you are to look to me. That +is a matter of course. I'll see Green about the other affairs. Green +and I are friends. We'll settle it."</p> + +<p>"That's not what I meant, Will."</p> + +<p>"But it's what I mean. This is one of those things in which a man has +to act on his own judgment. Your father and I understood each other."</p> + +<p>"He did not understand that I was to accept your bounty."</p> + +<p>"Bounty is a nasty word, and I hate it. You accepted me,—as your +brother, and as such I mean to act." The word almost stuck in his +throat, but he brought it out at last in a fierce tone, of which she +understood accurately the cause and meaning. "All money matters about +the place must be settled by me. Indeed, that's why I came down."</p> + +<p>"Not only for that, Will?"</p> + +<p>"Just to be useful in that way, I mean."</p> + +<p>"You came to see me,—because you knew I should want you." Surely +this was malice prepense! Knowing what was his want, how could she +exasperate it by talking thus of her own? "As for money, I have no +claim on any one. No creature was ever more forlorn. But I will not +talk of that."</p> + +<p>"Did you not say that you would treat me as a brother?"</p> + +<p>"I did not mean that I was to be a burden on you."</p> + +<p>"I know what I meant, and that is sufficient."</p> + +<p>Belton had been at the house some hours before he made any sign of +leaving her, and when he did so he had to explain something of his +plans. He would remain, he said, for about a week in the +neighbourhood. She of course was obliged to ask him to stay at the +house,—at the house which was in fact his own; but he declined to do +this, blurting out his reason at last very plainly. "Captain Aylmer +would not like it, and I suppose you are bound to think of what he +likes and dislikes." "I don't know what right Captain Aylmer would +have to dislike any such thing," said Clara. But, nevertheless, she +allowed the reason to pass as current, and did not press her +invitation. Will declared that he would stay at the inn at Redicote, +striving to explain in some very unintelligible manner that such an +arrangement would be very convenient. He would remain at Redicote, +and would come over to Belton every day during his sojourn in the +country. Then he asked one question in a low whisper as to the last +sad ceremony, and, having received an answer, started off with the +declared intention of calling on Colonel Askerton.</p> + +<p>The next two or three days passed uncomfortably enough with Will +Belton. He made his head-quarters at the little inn of Redicote, and +drove himself backwards and forwards between that place and the +estate which was now his own. On each of these days he saw Colonel +Askerton, whom he found to be a civil pleasant man, willing enough to +rid himself of the unpleasant task he had undertaken, but at the same +time, willing also to continue his services if any further services +were required of him. But of Mrs. Askerton on these occasions Will +saw nothing, nor had he ever spoken to her since the time of his +first visit to the Castle. Then came the day of the funeral, and +after that rite was over he returned with his cousin to the house. +There was no will to be read. The old squire had left no will, nor +was there anything belonging to him at the time of his death that he +could bequeath. The furniture in the house, the worn-out carpets and +old-fashioned chairs, belonged to Clara; but, beyond that, property +had she none, nor had it been in her father's power to endow her with +anything. She was alone in the world, penniless, with a conviction on +her own mind that her engagement with Frederic Aylmer must of +necessity come to an end, and with a feeling about her cousin which +she could hardly analyse, but which told her that she could not go to +his house in Norfolk, nor live with him at Belton Castle, nor trust +herself in his hands as she would into those of a real brother.</p> + +<p>On the afternoon of the day on which her father had been buried, she +brought to him a letter, asking him to read it, and tell her what she +should do. The letter was from Lady Aylmer, and contained an +invitation to Aylmer Castle. It had been accompanied, as the reader +may possibly remember, by a letter from Captain Aylmer himself. Of +this she of course informed her cousin; but she did not find it to be +necessary to show the letter of one rival to the other. Lady Aylmer's +letter was cold in its expression of welcome, but very dictatorial in +pointing out the absolute necessity that Clara should accept the +invitation so given. "I think you will not fail to agree with me, +dear Miss Amedroz," the letter said, "that under these strange and +perplexing circumstances, this is the only roof which can, with any +propriety, afford you a shelter." "And why not the poor-house?" she +said, aloud to her cousin, when she perceived that his eye had +descended so far on the page. He shook his head angrily, but said +nothing; and when he had finished the letter he folded it and gave it +back still in silence. "And what am I to do?" she said. "You tell me +that I am to come to you for advice in everything."</p> + +<p>"You must decide for yourself here."</p> + +<p>"And you won't advise me. You won't tell me whether she is right?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose she is right."</p> + +<p>"Then I had better go?"</p> + +<p>"If you mean to marry Captain Aylmer, you had better go."</p> + +<p>"I am engaged to him."</p> + +<p>"Then you had better go."</p> + +<p>"But I will not submit myself to her tyranny."</p> + +<p>"Let the marriage take place at once, and you will have to submit +only to his. I suppose you are prepared for that?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I do not like tyranny."</p> + +<p>Again he stood silent for awhile, looking at her, and then he +answered: "I should not tyrannise over you, Clara."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Will, Will, do not speak like that. Do not destroy everything."</p> + +<p>"What am I to say?"</p> + +<p>"What would you say if your sister, your real sister, asked advice in +such a strait? If you had a sister, who came to you, and told you all +her difficulty, you would advise her. You would not say words to make +things worse for her."</p> + +<p>"It would be very different."</p> + +<p>"But you said you would be my brother."</p> + +<p>"How am I to know what you feel for this man? It seems to me that you +half hate him, half fear him, and sometimes despise him."</p> + +<p>"Hate him!—No, I never hate him."</p> + +<p>"Go to him, then, and ask him what you had better do. Don't ask me." +Then he hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him. But +before he had half gone down the stairs he remembered the ceremony at +which he had just been present, and how desolate she was in the +world, and he returned to her. "I beg your pardon, Clara," he said, +"I am passionate; but I must be a beast to show my passion to you on +such a day as this. If I were you I should accept Lady Aylmer's +invitation,—merely thanking her for it in the ordinary way. I should +then go and see how the land lay. That is the advice I should give my +sister."</p> + +<p>"And I will,—if it is only because you tell me.</p> + +<p>"But as for a home,—tell her you have one of your own,—at Belton +Castle, from which no one can turn you out, and where no one can +intrude on you. This house belongs to you." Then, before she could +answer him, he had left the room; and she listened to his heavy quick +footsteps as he went across the hall and out of the front door.</p> + +<p>He walked across the park and entered the little gate of Colonel +Askerton's garden, as though it were his habit to go to the cottage +when he was at Belton. There had been various matters on which the +two men had been brought into contact concerning the old squire's +death and the tenancy of the cottage, so that they had become almost +intimate. Belton had nothing new that he specially desired to say to +Colonel Askerton, whom, indeed, he had seen only a short time before +at the funeral; but he wanted the relief of speaking to some one +before he returned to the solitude of the inn at Redicote. On this +occasion, however, the Colonel was out, and the maid asked him if he +would see Mrs. Askerton. When he said something about not troubling +her, the girl told him that her mistress wished to speak to him, and +then he had no alternative but to allow himself to be shown into the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"I want to see you a minute," said Mrs. Askerton, bowing to him +without putting out her hand, "that I might ask you how you find your +cousin."</p> + +<p>"She is pretty well, I think."</p> + +<p>"Colonel Askerton has seen more of her than I have since her father's +death, and he says that she does not bear it well. He thinks that she +is ill."</p> + +<p>"I do not think her ill. Of course she is not in good spirits."</p> + +<p>"No; exactly. How should she be? But he thinks she seems so worn. I +hope you will excuse me, Mr. Belton, but I love her so well that I +cannot bear to be quite in the dark as to her future. Is anything +settled yet?"</p> + +<p>"She is going to Aylmer Castle."</p> + +<p>"To Aylmer Castle! Is she indeed? At once?"</p> + +<p>"Very soon. Lady Aylmer has asked her."</p> + +<p>"Lady Aylmer! Then I suppose—"</p> + +<p>"You suppose what?" Will Belton asked.</p> + +<p>"I did not think she would have gone to Aylmer Castle,—though I dare +say it is the best thing she could do. She seemed to me to dislike +the Aylmers,—that is, Lady Aylmer,—so much! But I suppose she is +right?"</p> + +<p>"She is right to go if she likes it."</p> + +<p>"She is circumstanced so cruelly! Is she not? Where else could she +go? I do so feel for her. I believe I need hardly tell you, Mr. +Belton, that she would be as welcome here as flowers in May,—but +that I do not dare to ask her to come to us." She said this in a low +voice, turning her eyes away from him, looking first upon the ground, +and then again up at the window,—but still not daring to meet his +eye.</p> + +<p>"I don't exactly know about that," said Belton awkwardly.</p> + +<p>"You know, I hope, that I love her dearly."</p> + +<p>"Everybody does that," said Will.</p> + +<p>"You do, Mr. Belton."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I do; just as though she were—my sister."</p> + +<p>"And as your sister would you let her come here,—to us?" He sat +silent for awhile, thinking, and she waited patiently for his answer. +But she spoke again before he answered her. "I am well aware that you +know all my history, Mr. Belton."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't tell it her, if you mean that, though she were my +sister. If she were my wife I should tell her."</p> + +<p>"And why your wife?"</p> + +<p>"Because then I should be sure it would do no harm."</p> + +<p>"Then I find that you can be generous, Mr. Belton. But she knows it +all as well as you do."</p> + +<p>"I did not tell her."</p> + +<p>"Nor did I;—but I should have done so had not Captain Aylmer been +before me. And now tell me whether I could ask her to come here."</p> + +<p>"It would be useless, as she is going to Aylmer Castle."</p> + +<p>"But she is going there simply to find a home,—having no other."</p> + +<p>"That is not so, Mrs. Askerton. She has a home as perfectly her own +as any woman in the land. Belton Castle is hers, to do what she may +please with it. She can live here if she likes it, and nobody can say +a word to her. She need not go to Aylmer Castle to look for a home."</p> + +<p>"You mean you would lend her the house?"</p> + +<p>"It is hers."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you, Mr. Belton."</p> + +<p>"It does not signify;—we will say no more about it."</p> + +<p>"And you think she likes going to Lady Aylmer's?"</p> + +<p>"How should I say what she likes?"</p> + +<p>Then there was another pause before Mrs. Askerton spoke again. "I can +tell you one thing," she said: "she does not like him."</p> + +<p>"That is her affair."</p> + +<p>"But she should be taught to know her own mind before she throws +herself away altogether. You would not wish your cousin to marry a +man whom she does not love because at one time she had come to think +that she loved him. That is the truth of it, Mr. Belton. If she goes +to Aylmer Castle she will marry him,—and she will be an unhappy +woman always afterwards. If you would sanction her coming here for a +few days, I think all that would be cured. She would come in a +moment, if you advised her."</p> + +<p>Then he went away, allowing himself to make no further answer at the +moment, and discussed the matter with himself as he walked back to +Redicote, meditating on it with all his mind, and all his heart, and +all his strength. And, as he meditated, it came on to rain +bitterly,—a cold piercing February rain,—and the darkness of night +came upon him, and he floundered on through the thick mud of the +Somersetshire lanes, unconscious of the weather and of the darkness. +There was a way open to him by which he might even yet get what he +wanted. He thought he saw that there was a way open to him through +the policy of this woman, whom he perceived to have become friendly +to him. He saw, or thought that he saw, it all. No day had absolutely +been fixed for this journey to Yorkshire; and if Clara were induced +to go first to the cottage, and stay there with Mrs. Askerton, no +such journey might ever be taken. He could well understand that such +a visit on her part would give a mortal offence to all the Aylmers. +That tyranny of which Clara spoke with so much dread would be +exhibited then without reserve, and so there would be an end +altogether of the Aylmer alliance. But were she once to start for +Aylmer Park, then there would be no hope for him. Then her fate would +be decided,—and his. As far as he could see, too,—as far as he +could see then, there would be no dishonesty in this plan. Why should +Clara not go to Mrs. Askerton's house? What could be more natural +than such a visit at such a time? If she were in truth his sister he +would not interfere to prevent it if she wished it. He had told +himself that the woman should be forgiven her offence, and had +thought that that forgiveness should be complete. If the Aylmers were +so unreasonable as to quarrel with her on this ground, let them +quarrel with her. Mrs. Askerton had told him that Clara did not +really like Captain Aylmer. Perhaps it was so; and if so, what +greater kindness could he do her than give her an opportunity for +escaping such a union?</p> + +<p>The whole of the next day he remained at Redicote, thinking, +doubting, striving to reconcile his wishes and his honesty. It rained +all day, and as he sat alone, smoking in the comfortless inn, he told +himself that the rain was keeping him;—but in truth it was not the +rain. Had he resolved to do his best to prevent this visit to +Yorkshire, or had he resolved to further it, I think he would have +gone to Belton without much fear of the rain. On the second day after +the funeral he did go, and he had then made up his mind. Clara, if +she would listen to him, should show her independence of Lady Aylmer +by staying a few days with the Askertons before she went to +Yorkshire, and by telling Lady Aylmer that such was her intention. +"If she really loves the man," he said to himself, "she will go at +once, in spite of anything that I can say. If she does not, I shall +be saving her."</p> + +<p>"How cruel of you not to come yesterday!" Clara said, as soon as she +saw him.</p> + +<p>"It rained hard," he answered.</p> + +<p>"But men like you care so little for rain; but that is when you have +business to take you out,—or pleasure."</p> + +<p>"You need not be so severe. The truth is I had things to trouble me."</p> + +<p>"What troubled you, Will? I thought all the trouble was mine."</p> + +<p>"I suppose everybody thinks that his own shoe pinches the hardest."</p> + +<p>"Your shoe can't pinch you very bad, I should think. Sometimes when I +think of you it seems that you are an embodiment of prosperity and +happiness."</p> + +<p>"I don't see it myself;—that's all. Did you write to Lady Aylmer, +Clara?"</p> + +<p>"I wrote; but I didn't send it. I would not send any letter till I +had shown it to you, as you are my confessor and adviser. There; read +it. Nothing, I think, could be more courteous or less humble." He +took the letter and read it. Clara had simply expressed herself +willing to accept Lady Aylmer's invitation, and asked her ladyship to +fix a day. There was no mention of Captain Aylmer's name in the note.</p> + +<p>"And you think this is best?" he said. His voice was hardly like his +own as he spoke. There was wanting to it that tone of self-assurance +which his voice almost always possessed, even when self-assurance was +lacking to his words.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was your own advice," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes; that is, I don't quite know. You couldn't go for a week +or so yet, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps in about a week."</p> + +<p>"And what will you do till then?"</p> + +<p>"What will I do!"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—where do you mean to stay?"</p> + +<p>"I thought, Will, that perhaps you would let me—remain here."</p> + +<p>"Let you!—Oh, heavens! Look here, Clara."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Will?"</p> + +<p>"Before heaven I want to do for you what may be the best for +you,—without thinking of myself;—without thinking of myself, if I +could only help it."</p> + +<p>"I have never doubted you. I never will doubt you. I believe in you +next to my God. I do, Will; I do." He walked up and down the room +half-a-dozen times before he spoke again, while she stood by the +table watching him. "I wish," she said, "I knew what it is that +troubles you." To this he made no answer, but went on walking till +she came up to him, and putting both her hands upon his arm said, "It +will be better, Will, that I should go;—will it not? Speak to me, +and say so. I feel that it will be better." Then he stopped in his +walk and looked down upon her, as her hands still rested upon his +shoulder. He gazed upon her for some few seconds, remaining quite +motionless, and then, opening his arms, he surrounded her with his +embrace, and pressing her with all his strength close to his bosom, +kissed her forehead, and her cheeks, and her lips, and her eyes. His +will was so masterful, his strength so great, and his motion so +quick, that she was powerless to escape from him till he relaxed his +hold. Indeed she hardly struggled, so much was she surprised and so +soon released. But the moment that he left her he saw that her face +was burning red, and that the tears were streaming from her eyes. She +stood for a moment trembling, with her hands clenched, and with a +look of scorn upon her lips and brow that he had never seen before; +and then she threw herself on a sofa, and, burying her face, sobbed +aloud, while her whole body was shaken as with convulsions. He leaned +over her repentant, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to speak. +All ideas of his scheme had gone from him now. He had offended her +for ever,—past redemption. What could be the use now of any scheme? +And as he stood there he hated himself because of his scheme. The +utter misery and disgrace of the present moment had come upon him +because he had thought more of himself than of her. It was but a few +moments since she had told him that she trusted him next to her God; +and yet, in those few moments, he had shown himself utterly unworthy +of that trust, and had destroyed all her confidence. But he could not +leave her without speaking to her. "Clara!" he said;—"Clara." But +she did not answer him. "Clara; will you not speak to me? Will you +not let me ask you to forgive me?" But still she only sobbed. For +her, at that moment, we may say that sobbing was easier than speech. +How was she to pardon so great an offence? How was she to resent such +passionate love?</p> + +<p>But he could not continue to stand there motionless, all but +speechless, while she lay with her face turned away from him. He must +at any rate in some manner take himself away out of the room; and +this he could not do, even in his present condition of unlimited +disgrace, without a word of farewell. "Perhaps I had better go and +leave you," he said.</p> + +<p>Then at last there came a voice, "Oh, Will, why have you done this? +Why have you treated me so badly?" When he had last seen her face her +mouth had been full of scorn, but there was no scorn now in her +voice. "Why—why—why?"</p> + +<p>Why indeed;—except that it was needful for him that she should know +the depth of his passion. "If you will forgive me, Clara, I will not +offend you so again," he said.</p> + +<p>"You have offended me. What am I to say? What am I to do? I have no +other friend."</p> + +<p>"I am a wretch. I know that I am a wretch."</p> + +<p>"I did not suspect that you would be so cruel. Oh, Will!"</p> + +<p>But before he went she told him that she had forgiven him, and she +had preached to him a solemn, sweet sermon on the wickedness of +yielding to momentary impulses. Her low, grave words sank into his +ears as though they were divine; and when she said a word to him, +blushing as she spoke, of the sin of his passion, and of what her sin +would be if she were to permit it, he sat by her weeping like an +infant, tears which were certainly tears of innocence. She had been +very angry with him; but I think she loved him better when her sermon +was finished, than she had ever loved him before.</p> + +<p>There was no further question as to her going to Aylmer Castle, nor +was any mention made of Mrs. Askerton's invitation to the cottage. +The letter for Lady Aylmer was sent, and it was agreed between them +that Will should remain at Redicote till the answer from Yorkshire +should come, and should then convey Clara as far as London on her +journey. And when he took leave of her that afternoon, she was able +to give him her hand in her old hearty, loving way, and to call him +Will with the old hearty, loving tone. And he,—he was able to accept +these tokens of her graciousness, as though they were signs of a +pardon which she had been good to give, but which he certainly had +not deserved.</p> + +<p>As he went back to Redicote, he swore to himself that he would never +love any woman but her,—even though she must be the wife of Captain +Aylmer.</p> + + +<p><a name="c23" id="c23"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> +<h4>THE LAST DAY AT BELTON.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>In course of post there came an answer from Lady Aylmer, naming a day +for Clara's journey to Yorkshire, and also a letter from Captain +Aylmer, in which he stated that he would meet her in London and +convey her down to Aylmer Park. "The House is sitting," he said, "and +therefore I shall be a little troubled about my time; but I cannot +allow that your first meeting with my mother should take place in my +absence." This was all very well, but at the end of the letter there +was a word of caution that was not so well. "I am sure, my dear +Clara, that you will remember how much is due to my mother's age, and +character, and position. Nothing will be wanted to the happiness of +our marriage, if you can succeed in gaining her affection, and +therefore I make it my first request to you that you should endeavour +to win her good opinion." There was nothing perhaps really amiss, +certainly nothing unreasonable, in such words from a future husband +to his future wife; but Clara, as she read them, shook her head and +pressed her foot against the ground in anger. It would not do. Sorrow +would come, and trouble and disappointment. She did not say so, even +to herself, in words; but the words, though not spoken, were audible +enough to herself. She could not, would not, bend to Lady Aylmer, and +she knew that trouble would come of this visit.</p> + +<p>I fear that many ladies will condemn Miss Amedroz when I tell them +that she showed this letter to her cousin Will. It does not promise +well for any of the parties concerned when a young woman with two +lovers can bring herself to show the love-letters of him to whom she +is engaged to the other lover whom she has refused! But I have two +excuses to put forward in Clara's defence. In the first place, +Captain Aylmer's love-letters were not in truth love-letters, but +were letters of business; and in the next place, Clara was teaching +herself to regard Will Belton as her brother, and to forget that he +had ever assumed the part of a lover.</p> + +<p>She was so teaching herself, but I cannot say that the lesson was one +easily learned; nor had the outrage upon her of which Will had been +guilty, and which was described in the last chapter, made the +teaching easier. But she had determined, nevertheless, that it should +be so. When she thought of Will her heart would become very soft +towards him; and sometimes, when she thought of Captain Aylmer, her +heart would become anything but soft towards him. Unloving feelings +would be very strong within her bosom as she re-read his letters, and +remembered that he had not come to her, but had sent her seventy-five +pounds to comfort her in her trouble! Nevertheless, he was to be her +husband, and she would do her duty. What might have happened had Will +Belton come to Belton Castle before she had known Frederic +Aylmer,—of that she stoutly resolved that she would never think at +all; and consequently the thought was always intruding upon her.</p> + +<p>"You will sleep one night in town, of course?" said Will.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. You know all about it. I shall do as I'm told."</p> + +<p>"You can't go down to Yorkshire from here in one day. Where would you +like to stay in London?"</p> + +<p>"How on earth should I know? Ladies do sleep at hotels in London +sometimes, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. I can write and have rooms ready for you."</p> + +<p>"Then that difficulty is over," said Clara.</p> + +<p>But in Belton's estimation the difficulty was not exactly over. +Captain Aylmer would, of course, be in London that night, and it was +a question with Will whether or no Clara was not bound in honour to +tell the—accursed beast, I am afraid Mr. Belton called him in his +soliloquies—where she would lodge on the occasion. Or would it +suffice that he, Will, should hand her over to the enemy at the +station of the Great Northern Railway on the following morning? All +the little intricacies of the question presented themselves to Will's +imagination. How careful he would be with her, that the inn +accommodation should suffice for her comfort! With what pleasure +would he order a little dinner for them two, making something of a +gentle <i>fête</i> of the occasion! How sedulously would he wait upon her +with those little attentions, amounting almost to worship, with which +such men as Will Belton are prone to treat all women in exceptionable +circumstances, when the ordinary routine of life has been disturbed! +If she had simply been his cousin, and if he had never regarded her +otherwise, how happily could he have done all this! As things now +were, if it was left to him to do, he should do it, with what +patience and grace might be within his power; he would do it, though +he would be mindful every moment of the bitterness of the transfer +which he would so soon be obliged to make; but he doubted whether it +would not be better for Clara's sake that the transfer should be made +over-night. He would take her up to London, because in that way he +could be useful; and then he would go away and hide himself. "Has +Captain Aylmer said where he would meet you?" he asked after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Of course I must write and tell him."</p> + +<p>"And is he to come to you,—when you reach London?"</p> + +<p>"He has said nothing about that. He will probably be at the House of +Commons, or too busy somewhere to come to me then. But why do you +ask? Do you wish to hurry through town?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no."</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps you have friends you want to see. Pray don't let me be in +your way. I shall do very well, you know."</p> + +<p>Belton rebuked her by a look before he answered her. "I was only +thinking," he said, "of what would be most convenient for yourself. I +have nobody to see, and nothing to do, and nowhere to go to." Then +Clara understood it all, and said that she would write to Captain +Aylmer and ask him to join them at the hotel.</p> + +<p>She determined that she would see Mrs. Askerton before she went; and +as that lady did not come to the Castle, Clara called upon her at the +cottage. This she did the day before she left, and she took her +cousin with her. Belton had been at the cottage once or twice since +the day on which Mrs. Askerton had explained to him how the Aylmer +alliance might be extinguished, but Colonel Askerton had always been +there, and no reference had been made to the former conversation. +Colonel Askerton was not there now, and Belton was almost afraid that +words would be spoken to which he would hardly know how to listen.</p> + +<p>"And so you are really going?" said Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>"Yes; we start to-morrow," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I am not thinking of the journey to London," said Mrs. Askerton, +"but of the danger and privations of your subsequent progress to the +North."</p> + +<p>"I shall do very well. I am not afraid that any one will eat me."</p> + +<p>"There are so many different ways of eating people! Are there not, +Mr. Belton?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know about eating, but there are a great many ways of boring +people," said he.</p> + +<p>"And I should think they will be great at that kind of thing at +Aylmer Castle. One never hears of Sir Anthony, but I can fancy Lady +Aylmer to be a terrible woman."</p> + +<p>"I shall manage to hold my own, I dare say," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will; I do hope you will," said Mrs. Askerton. "I don't +know whether you will be powerful to do so, or whether you will fail; +my heart is not absolute; but I do know what will be the result if +you are successful."</p> + +<p>"It is much more then than I know myself."</p> + +<p>"That I can believe too. Do you travel down to Yorkshire alone?"</p> + +<p>"No; Captain Aylmer will meet me in town."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Askerton looked at Mr. Belton, but made no immediate reply; +nor did she say anything further about Clara's journey. She looked at +Mr. Belton, and Will caught her eye, and understood that he was being +rebuked for not having carried out that little scheme which had been +prepared for him. But he had come to hate the scheme, and almost +hated Mrs. Askerton for proposing it. He had declared to himself that +her welfare, Clara's welfare, was the one thing which he should +regard; and he had told himself that he was not strong enough, either +in purpose or in wit, to devise schemes for her welfare. She was +better able to manage things for herself than he was to manage them +for her. If she loved this "accursed beast," let her marry him; +only,—for that was now his one difficulty,—only he could not bring +himself to think it possible that she should love him.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you will never see this place again?" said Mrs. Askerton +after a long pause.</p> + +<p>"I hope I shall, very often," said Clara. "Why should I not see it +again? It is not going out of the family."</p> + +<p>"No; not exactly out of the family. That is, it will belong to your +cousin."</p> + +<p>"And cousins may be as far apart as strangers, you mean; but Will and +I are not like that; are we, Will?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know what we are like," said he.</p> + +<p>"You do not mean to say that you will throw me over? But the truth +is, Mrs. Askerton, that I do not mean to be thrown over. I look upon +him as my brother, and I intend to cling to him as sisters do cling."</p> + +<p>"You will hardly come back here before you are married," said Mrs. +Askerton. It was a terrible speech for her to make, and could only be +excused on the ground that the speaker was in truth desirous of doing +that which she thought would benefit both of those whom she +addressed. "Of course you are going to your wedding now?"</p> + +<p>"I am doing nothing of the kind," said Clara. "How can you speak in +that way to me so soon after my father's death? It is a rebuke to me +for being here at all."</p> + +<p>"I intend no rebuke, as you well know. What I mean is this; if you do +not stay in Yorkshire till you are married, let the time be when it +may, where do you intend to go in the meantime?"</p> + +<p>"My plans are not settled yet."</p> + +<p>"She will have this house if she pleases," said Will. "There will be +no one else here. It will be her own, to do as she likes with it."</p> + +<p>"She will hardly come here,—to be alone."</p> + +<p>"I will not be inquired into, my dear," said Clara, speaking with +restored good-humour. "Of course I am an unprotected female, and +subject to disadvantages. Perhaps I have no plans for the future; and +if I have plans, perhaps I do not mean to divulge them."</p> + +<p>"I had better come to the point at once," said Mrs. Askerton. +"If—if—if it should ever suit you, pray come here to us. Flowers +shall not be more welcome in May. It is difficult to speak of it all, +though you both understand everything as well as I do. I cannot press +my invitation as another woman might."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can," said Clara with energy. "Of course you can."</p> + +<p>"Can I? Then I do. Dear Clara, do come to us." And then as she spoke +Mrs. Askerton knelt on the ground at her visitor's knees. "Mr. +Belton, do tell her that when she is tired with the grandeur of +Aylmer Park she may come to us here."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about the grandeur of Aylmer Park," said Will, +suddenly.</p> + +<p>"But she may come here;—may she not?"</p> + +<p>"She will not ask my leave," said he.</p> + +<p>"She says that you are her brother. Whose leave should she ask?"</p> + +<p>"He knows that I should ask his rather than that of any living +person," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"There, Mr. Belton. Now you must say that she may come;—or that she +may not."</p> + +<p>"I will say nothing. She knows what to do much better than I can tell +her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Askerton was still kneeling, and again appealed to Clara. "You +hear what he says. What do you say yourself? Will you come to +us?—that is, if such a visit will suit you,—in point of +convenience?"</p> + +<p>"I will make no promise; but I know no reason why I should not."</p> + +<p>"And I must be content with that? Well: I will be content." Then she +got up. "For such a one as I am, that is a great deal. And, Mr. +Belton, let me tell you this;—I can be grateful to you, though you +cannot be gracious to me."</p> + +<p>"I hope I have not been ungracious," said he.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I cannot compliment you. But there is something so +much better than grace, that I can forgive you. You know, at any +rate, how thoroughly I wish you well."</p> + +<p>Upon this Clara got up to take her leave, and the demonstrative +affection of an embrace between the two women afforded a remedy for +the awkwardness of the previous conversation.</p> + +<p>"God bless you, dearest," said Mrs. Askerton. "May I write to you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"And you will answer my letters?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I will. You must tell me everything about the place;—and +especially as to Bessy. Bessy is never to be sold;—is she, Will?" +Bessy was the cow which Belton had given her.</p> + +<p>"Not if you choose to keep her."</p> + +<p>"I will go down and see to her myself," said Mrs. Askerton, "and will +utter little prayers of my own over her horns,—that certain events +that I desire may come to pass. Good-bye, Mr. Belton. You may be as +ungracious as you please, but it will not make any difference."</p> + +<p>When Clara and her cousin left the cottage they did not return to the +house immediately, but took a last walk round the park, and through +the shrubbery, and up to the rocks on which a remarkable scene had +once taken place between them. Few words were spoken as they were +walking, and there had been no agreement as to the path they would +take. Each seemed to understand that there was much of melancholy in +their present mood, and that silence was more fitting than speech. +But when they reached the rocks Belton sat himself down, asking +Clara's leave to stop there for a moment. "I don't suppose I shall +ever come to this place again," said he.</p> + +<p>"You are as bad as Mrs. Askerton," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I do not think I shall ever come to this place again," said he, +repeating his words very solemnly. "At any rate, I will never do so +willingly, <span class="nowrap">unless—"</span></p> + +<p>"Unless what?"</p> + +<p>"Unless you are either my wife, or have promised to become so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Will; you know that that is impossible."</p> + +<p>"Then it is impossible that I should come here again."</p> + +<p>"You know that I am engaged to another man."</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. I am not asking you to break your engagement. I am +simply telling you that in spite of that engagement I love you as +well as I did love you before you had made it. I have a right to let +you know the truth." As if she had not known it without his telling +it to her now! "It was here that I told you that I loved you. I now +repeat it here; and will never come here again unless I may say the +same thing over and over and over. That is all. We might as well go +on now." But when he got up she sat down, as though unwilling to +leave the spot. It was still winter, and the rock was damp with cold +drippings from the trees, and the moss around was wet, and little +pools of water had formed themselves in the shallow holes upon the +surface. She did not speak as she seated herself; but he was of +course obliged to wait till she should be ready to accompany him. "It +is too cold for you to sit there," he said. "Come, Clara; I will not +have you loiter here. It is cold and wet."</p> + +<p>"It is not colder for me than for you."</p> + +<p>"You are not used to that sort of thing as I am."</p> + +<p>"Will," she said, "you must never speak to me again as you spoke just +now. Promise me that you will not."</p> + +<p>"Promises will do no good in such a matter."</p> + +<p>"It is almost a repetition of what you did before;—though of course +it is not so bad as that."</p> + +<p>"Everything I do is bad."</p> + +<p>"No, Will:—dear Will! Almost everything you do is good. But of what +use can it be to either of us for you to be thinking of that which +can never be? Cannot you think of me as your sister,—and only as +your sister?"</p> + +<p>"No; I cannot."</p> + +<p>"Then it is not right that we should be together."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of right. You ask me a question, and I suppose you +don't wish that I should tell you a lie."</p> + +<p>"Of course I do not wish that."</p> + +<p>"Therefore I tell you the truth. I love you,—as any other man loves +the girl that he does love; and, as far as I know myself now, I never +can be happy unless you are my own."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Will, how can that be when I am engaged to marry another man?"</p> + +<p>"As to your engagement I should care nothing. Does he love you as I +love you? If he loves you, why is he not here? If he loves you, why +does he let his mother ill-use you, and treat you with scorn? If he +loves you as I love you, how could he write to you as he does write? +Would I write to you such a letter as that? Would I let you be here +without coming to you,—to be looked after by any one else? If you +had said that you would be my wife, would I leave you in solitude and +sorrow, and then send you seventy-five pounds to console you? If you +think he loves you, <span class="nowrap">Clara—"</span></p> + +<p>"He thought he was doing right when he sent me the money."</p> + +<p>"But he shouldn't have thought it right. Never mind. I don't want to +accuse him; but this I know,—and you know; he does not love you as I +love you."</p> + +<p>"What can I say to answer you?"</p> + +<p>"Say that you will wait till you have seen him. Say that I may have a +hope,—a chance; that if he is cold, and hard, and,—and,—and, just +what we know he is, then I may have a chance."</p> + +<p>"How can I say that when I am engaged to him? Cannot you understand +that I am wrong to let you speak of him as you do?"</p> + +<p>"How else am I to speak of him? Tell me this. Do you love him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I do."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it!"</p> + +<p>"Will!"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it. Nothing on earth shall make me believe it. It is +impossible;—impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to insult me, Will?"</p> + +<p>"No; I do not mean to insult you, but I mean to tell you the truth. I +do not think you love that man as you ought to love the man whom you +are going to marry. I should tell you just the same thing if I were +really your brother. Of course it isn't that I suppose you love any +one else,—me for instance. I'm not such a fool as that. But I don't +think you love him; and I'm quite sure he doesn't love you. That's +just what I believe; and if I do believe it, how am I to help telling +you?"</p> + +<p>"You've no right to have such beliefs."</p> + +<p>"How am I to help it? Well;—never mind. I won't let you sit there +any longer. At any rate you'll be able to understand now that I shall +never come to this place any more." Clara, as she got up to obey him, +felt that she also ought never to see it again;—unless, +indeed,—<span class="nowrap">unless—</span></p> + +<p>They passed that evening together without any reference to the scene +on the rock, or any allusion to their own peculiar troubles. Clara, +though she would not admit to Mrs. Askerton that she was going away +from the place for ever, was not the less aware that such might very +probably be the case. She had no longer any rights of ownership at +Belton Castle, and all that had taken place between her and her +cousin tended to make her feel that under no circumstances could she +again reside there. Nor was it probable that she would be able to +make to Mrs. Askerton the visit of which they had been talking. If +Lady Aylmer were wise,—so Clara thought,—there would be no mention +of Mrs. Askerton at Aylmer Park; and, if so, of course she would not +outrage her future husband by proposing to go to a house of which she +knew that he disapproved. If Lady Aylmer were not wise;—if she +should take upon herself the task of rebuking Clara for her +friendship,—then, in such circumstances as those, Clara believed +that the visit to Mrs. Askerton might be possible.</p> + +<p>But she determined that she would leave the home in which she had +been born, and had passed so many happy and so many unhappy days, as +though she were never to see it again. All her packing had been done, +down to the last fragment of an old letter that was stuffed into her +writing-desk; but, nevertheless, she went about the house with a +candle in her hand, as though she were still looking that nothing had +been omitted, while she was in truth saying farewell in her heart to +every corner which she knew so well. When at last she came down to +pour out for her desolate cousin his cup of tea, she declared that +everything was done. "You may go to work now, Will," she said, "and +do what you please with the old place. My jurisdiction in it is +over."</p> + +<p>"Not altogether," said he. He no longer spoke like a despairing +lover. Indeed there was a smile round his mouth, and his voice was +cheery.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—altogether. I give over my sovereignty from this moment;—and +a dirty dilapidated sovereignty it is."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well to say."</p> + +<p>"And also very well to do. What best pleases me in going to Aylmer +Castle just now is the power it gives me of doing at once that which +otherwise I might have put off till the doing of it had become much +more unpleasant. Mr. Belton, there is the key of the cellar,—which I +believe gentlemen always regard as the real sign of possession. I +don't advise you to trust much to the contents." He took the key from +her, and without saying a word chucked it across the room on to an +old sofa. "If you won't take it, you had better, at any rate, have it +tied up with the others," she said.</p> + +<p>"I dare say you'll know where to find it when you want it," he +answered.</p> + +<p>"I shall never want it."</p> + +<p>"Then it's as well there as anywhere else."</p> + +<p>"But you won't remember, Will."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose I shall have occasion for remembering." Then he +paused a moment before he went on. "I have told you before that I do +not intend to take possession of the place. I do not regard it as +mine at all."</p> + +<p>"And whose is it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yours."</p> + +<p>"No, dear Will; it is not mine. You know that."</p> + +<p>"I intend that it shall be so, and therefore you might as well put +the keys where you will know how to find them."</p> + +<p>After he had gone she did take up the key, and tied it with sundry +others, which she intended to give to the old servant who was to be +left in charge of the house. But after a few moments' consideration +she took the cellar key again off the bunch, and put it back upon the +sofa,—in the place to which he had thrown it.</p> + +<p>On the following morning they started on their journey. The old fly +from Redicote was not used on this occasion, as Belton had ordered a +pair of post-horses and a comfortable carriage from Taunton. "I think +it such a shame," said Clara, "going away for the last time without +having Jerry and the grey horse." Jerry was the man who had once +driven her to Taunton when the old horse fell with her on the road. +"But Jerry and the grey horse could not have taken you and me too, +and all our luggage," said Will. "Poor Jerry! I suppose not," said +Clara; "but still there is an injury done in going without him."</p> + +<p>There were four or five old dependents of the family standing round +the door to bid her adieu, to all of whom she gave her hand with a +cordial pressure. They, at least, seemed to regard her departure as +final. And of course it was final. She had assured herself of that +during the night. And just as they were about to start, both Colonel +and Mrs. Askerton walked up to the door. "He wouldn't let you go +without bidding you farewell," said Mrs. Askerton. "I am so glad to +shake hands with him," Clara answered. Then the Colonel spoke a word +to her, and, as he did so, his wife contrived to draw Will Belton for +a moment behind the carriage. "Never give it up, Mr. Belton," said +she, eagerly. "If you persevere she'll be yours yet." "I fear not," +he said. "Stick to her like a man," said she, pressing his hand in +her vehemence. "If you do, you'll live to thank me for having told +you so." Will had not a word to say for himself, but he thought that +he would stick to her. Indeed, he thought that he had stuck to her +pretty well.</p> + +<p>At last they were off, and the village of Belton was behind them. +Will, glancing into his cousin's face, saw that her eyes were laden +with tears, and refrained from speaking. As they passed the ugly +red-brick rectory-house, Clara for a moment put her face to the +window, and then withdrew it. "There is nobody there," she said, "who +will care to see me. Considering that I have lived here all my life, +is it not odd that there should be so few to bid me good-bye?"</p> + +<p>"People do not like to put themselves forward on such occasions," +said Will.</p> + +<p>"People!—there are no people. No one ever had so few to care for +them as I have. And +<span class="nowrap">now—.</span> But +never mind; I mean to do very well, +and I shall do very well." Belton would not take advantage of her in +her sadness, and they reached the station at Taunton almost without +another word.</p> + +<p>Of course they had to wait there for half an hour, and of course the +waiting was very tedious. To Will it was very tedious indeed, as he +was not by nature good at waiting. To Clara, who on this occasion sat +perfectly still in the waiting-room, with her toes on the fender +before the fire, the evil of the occasion was not so severe. "The man +would take two hours for the journey, though I told him an hour and a +half would be enough," said Will, querulously.</p> + +<p>"But we might have had an accident."</p> + +<p>"An accident! What accident? People don't have accidents every day."</p> + +<p>At last the train came and they started. Clara, though she had with +her her best friend,—I may almost say the friend whom in the world +she loved the best,—did not have an agreeable journey. Belton would +not talk; but as he made no attempt at reading, Clara did not like to +have recourse to the book which she had in her travelling-bag. He sat +opposite to her, opening the window and shutting it as he thought she +might like it, but looking wretched and forlorn. At Swindon he +brightened up for a moment under the excitement of getting her +something to eat, but that relaxation lasted only for a few minutes. +After that he relapsed again into silence till the train had passed +Slough, and he knew that in another half-hour they would be in +London. Then he leant over her and spoke.</p> + +<p>"This will probably be the last opportunity I shall have of saying a +few words to you,—alone."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that at all, Will."</p> + +<p>"It will be the last for a long time at any rate. And as I have got +something to say, I might as well say it now. I have thought a great +deal about the property,—the Belton estate, I mean; and I don't +intend to take it as mine.</p> + +<p>"That is sheer nonsense, Will. You must take it, as it is yours, and +can't belong to any one else."</p> + +<p>"I have thought it over, and I am quite sure that all the business of +the entail was wrong,—radically wrong from first to last. You are to +understand that my special regard for you has nothing whatever to do +with it. I should do the same thing if I felt that I hated you."</p> + +<p>"Don't hate me, Will!"</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean. I think the entail was all wrong, and I shan't +take advantage of it. It's not common sense that I should have +everything because of poor Charley's misfortune."</p> + +<p>"But it seems to me that it does not depend upon you or upon me, or +upon anybody. It is yours,—by law, you know."</p> + +<p>"And therefore it won't be sufficient for me to give it up without +making it yours by law also,—which I intend to do. I shall stay in +town to-morrow and give instructions to Mr. Green. I have thought it +proper to tell you this now, in order that you may mention it to +Captain Aylmer."</p> + +<p>They were leaning over in the carriage one towards the other; her +face had been slightly turned away from him; but now she slowly +raised her eyes till they met his, and looking into the depth of +them, and seeing there all his love and all his suffering, and the +great nobility of his nature, her heart melted within her. Gradually, +as her tears came,—would come, in spite of all her constraint, she +again turned her face towards the window. "I can't talk now," she +said, "indeed I can't."</p> + +<p>"There is no need for any more talking about it," he replied. And +there was no more talking between them on that subject, or on any +other, till the tickets had been taken and the train was again in +motion. Then he referred to it again for a moment. "You will tell +Captain Aylmer, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I will tell him what you say, that he may know your generosity. But +of course he will agree with me that no such offer can be accepted. +It is quite,—quite,—quite,—out of the question."</p> + +<p>"You had better tell him and say nothing more; or you can ask him to +see Mr. Green,—after to-morrow. He, as a man who understands +business, will know that this arrangement must be made, if I choose +to make it. Come; here we are. Porter, a four-wheeled cab. Do you go +with him, and I'll look after the luggage."</p> + +<p>Clara, as she got into the cab, felt that she ought to have been more +stout in her resistance to his offer. But it would be better, +perhaps, that she should write to him from Aylmer Park, and get +Frederic to write also.</p> + + +<p><a name="c24" id="c24"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> +<h4>THE GREAT NORTHERN RAILWAY HOTEL.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>At the door of the hotel of the Great Northern Railway Station they +met Captain Aylmer. Rooms had been taken there because they were to +start by an early train on that line in the morning, and Captain +Aylmer had undertaken to order dinner. There was nothing particular +in the meeting to make it unpleasant to our friend Will. The +fortunate rival could do no more in the hall of the inn than give his +hand to his affianced bride, as he might do to any other lady, and +then suggest to her that she should go up-stairs and see her room. +When he had done this, he also offered his hand to Belton; and Will, +though he would almost sooner have cut off his own, was obliged to +take it. In a few minutes the two men were standing alone together in +the sitting-room.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you found it cold coming up?" said the captain.</p> + +<p>"Not particularly," said Will.</p> + +<p>"It's rather a long journey from Belton."</p> + +<p>"Not very long," said Will.</p> + +<p>"Not for you, perhaps; but Miss Amedroz must be tired."</p> + +<p>Belton was angry at having his cousin called Miss Amedroz,—feeling +that the reserve of the name was intended to keep him at a distance. +But he would have been equally angry had Aylmer called her Clara.</p> + +<p>"My cousin," said Will stoutly, "is able to bear slight fatigue of +that kind without suffering."</p> + +<p>"I didn't suppose she suffered; but journeys are always tedious, +especially where there is so much road work. I believe you are twenty +miles from the station?"</p> + +<p>"Belton Castle is something over twenty miles from Taunton."</p> + +<p>"We are seven from our station at Aylmer Park, and we think that a +great deal."</p> + +<p>"I'm more than that at Plaistow," said Will.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed. Plaistow is in Norfolk, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—Plaistow is in Norfolk."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you'll leave it now and go into Somersetshire," suggested +Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. Why should I leave it?"</p> + +<p>"I thought, perhaps,—as Belton Castle is now your +<span class="nowrap">own—"</span></p> + +<p>"Plaistow Hall is more my own than Belton Castle, if that signifies +anything,—which it doesn't." This he said in an angry tone, which, +as he became conscious of it, he tried to rectify. "I've a deal of +stock and all that sort of thing at Plaistow, and couldn't very well +leave it, even if I wished it," he said.</p> + +<p>"You've pretty good shooting too, I suppose," said Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"As far as partridges go I'll back it against most properties of the +same extent in any county."</p> + +<p>"I'm too busy a man myself," said the Captain, "to do much at +partridges. We think more of pheasants down with us."</p> + +<p>"I dare say."</p> + +<p>"But a Norfolk man like you is of course keen about birds."</p> + +<p>"We are obliged to put up with what we've got, you know;—not but +what I believe there is a better general head of game in Norfolk than +in any other county in England."</p> + +<p>"That's what makes your hunting rather poor."</p> + +<p>"Our hunting poor! Why do you say it's poor?"</p> + +<p>"So many of you are against preserving foxes."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what, Captain Aylmer; I don't know what pack you hunt +with, but I'll bet you a five-pound note that we killed more foxes +last year than you did;—that is, taking three days a week. +Nine-and-twenty brace and a half in a short season I don't call poor +at all."</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer saw that the man was waxing angry, and made no further +allusion either to the glories or deficiencies of Norfolk. As he +could think of no other subject on which to speak at the spur of the +moment, he sat himself down and took up a paper; Belton took up +another, and so they remained till Clara made her appearance. That +Captain Aylmer read his paper is probable enough. He was not a man +easily disconcerted, and there was nothing in his present position to +disconcert him. But I feel sure that Will Belton did not read a word. +He was angry with this rival, whom he hated, and was angry with +himself for showing his anger. He would have wished to appear to the +best advantage before this man, or rather before Clara in this man's +presence; and he knew that in Clara's absence he was making such a +fool of himself that he would be unable to recover his prestige. He +had serious thoughts within his own breast whether it would not be as +well for him to get up from his seat and give Captain Aylmer a +thoroughly good thrashing;—"Drop into him and punch his head," as he +himself would have expressed it. For the moment such an exercise +would give him immense gratification. The final results would, no +doubt, be disastrous; but then, all future results, as far as he +could see them, were laden with disaster. He was still thinking of +this, eyeing the man from under the newspaper, and telling himself +that the feat would probably be too easy to afford much enjoyment, +when Clara re-entered the room. Then he got up, acting on the spur of +the moment,—got up quickly and suddenly, and began to bid her adieu.</p> + +<p>"But you are going to dine here, Will?" she said.</p> + +<p>"No; I think not."</p> + +<p>"You promised you would. You told me you had nothing to do to-night." +Then she turned to Captain Aylmer. "You expect my cousin to dine with +us to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I ordered dinner for three," said Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well; it's all the same thing to me," said Will.</p> + +<p>"And to me," said Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"It's not at all the same thing to me," said Clara. "I don't know +when I may see my cousin again. I should think it very bad of you, +Will, if you went away this evening."</p> + +<p>"I'll go out just for half an hour," said he, "and be back to +dinner."</p> + +<p>"We dine at seven," said the Captain. Then Belton took his hat and +left the two lovers together.</p> + +<p>"Your cousin seems to be a rather surly sort of gentleman." Those +were the first words which Captain Aylmer spoke when he was alone +with the lady of his love. Nor was he demonstrative of his affection +by any of the usual signs of regard which are permitted to accepted +lovers. He did not offer to kiss her, nor did he attempt to take her +hand with a warmer pressure now that he was alone with her. He +probably might have gone through some such ceremony had he first met +Clara in a position propitious to such purposes; but, as it was, he +had been a little ruffled by Will Belton's want of good breeding, and +had probably forgotten that any such privileges might have been his. +I wonder whether any remembrance flashed across Clara's mind at this +moment of her cousin Will's great iniquity in the sitting-room at +Belton Castle. She thought of it very often, and may possibly have +thought of it now.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe that he is surly, Frederic," she said. "He may, +perhaps, be out of humour."</p> + +<p>"And why should he be out of humour with me? I only suggested to him +that it might suit him to live at Belton instead of at that farm of +his, down in Norfolk."</p> + +<p>"He is very fond of Plaistow, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"But that's no reason why he should be cross with me. I don't envy +him his taste, that's all. If he can't understand that he, with his +name, ought to live on the family property which belongs to him, it +isn't likely that anything that I can say will open his eyes upon the +subject."</p> + +<p>"The truth is, Frederic, he has some romantic notion about the Belton +estate."</p> + +<p>"What romantic notion?"</p> + +<p>"He thinks it should not be his at all."</p> + +<p>"Whose then? Who does he think should have it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course there can be nothing in it, you know; of course it's all +nonsense."</p> + +<p>"But what is his idea? Who does he think should be the owner?"</p> + +<p>"He means—that it should be—mine. But of course, Frederic, it is +all nonsense; we know that."</p> + +<p>It did not seem to be quite clear at the moment that Frederic had +altogether made up his mind upon the subject. As he heard these +tidings from Clara there came across his face a puzzled, dubious +look, as though he did not quite understand the proposition which had +been suggested to him;—as though some consideration were wanted +before he could take the idea home to himself and digest it, so as to +enable himself to express an opinion upon it. There might be +something in it,—some show of reason which did not make itself clear +to Clara's feminine mind. "I have never known what was the precise +nature of your father's marriage settlement," said he.</p> + +<p>Then Clara began to explain with exceeding eagerness that there was +no question as to the accuracy of the settlement, or the legality of +the entail;—that indeed there was no question as to anything. Her +cousin Will was romantic, and that was the end of it. Of +course,—quite as a matter of course, this romance would lead to +nothing; and she had only mentioned the subject now to show that her +cousin's mind might possibly be disturbed when the question of his +future residence was raised. "I quite feel with you," she said, "that +it will be much nicer that he should live at the old family place; +but just at present I do not speak about it."</p> + +<p>"If he is thinking of not claiming Belton, it is quite another +thing," said Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"It is his without any claiming," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well; it will all be settled before long," said Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"It is settled already," said Clara.</p> + +<p>At seven the three met again, and when the dinner was on the table +there was some little trouble as to the helping of the fish. Which of +the two men should take the lead on the occasion? But Clara decided +the question by asking her cousin to make himself useful. There can +be little doubt but that Captain Aylmer would have distributed the +mutton chops with much more grace, and have carved the roast fowl +with much more skill; but it suited Clara that Will should have the +employment, and Will did the work. Captain Aylmer, throughout the +dinner, endeavoured to be complaisant, and Clara exerted herself to +talk as though all matters around them were easy. Will, too, made his +effort, every now and then speaking a word, and restraining himself +from snapping at his rival; but the restraint was in itself evident, +and there were symptoms throughout the dinner that the untamed man +was longing to fly at the throat of the man that was tamed.</p> + +<p>"Is it supposed that I ought to go away for a little while?" said +Clara, as soon as she had drank her own glass of wine.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no," said the Captain. "We'll have a cup of coffee;—that +is, if Mr. Belton likes it."</p> + +<p>"It's all the same to me," said Will.</p> + +<p>"But won't you have some more wine?" Clara asked.</p> + +<p>"No more for me," said Captain Aylmer. "Perhaps Mr. +<span class="nowrap">Belton—"</span></p> + +<p>"Who; I? No; I don't want any more wine," said Will; and then they +were all silent.</p> + +<p>It was very hard upon Clara. After a while the coffee came, and even +that was felt to be a comfort. Though there was no pouring out to be +done, no actual employment enacted, still the manœuvring of the +cups created a diversion. "If either of you like to smoke," she said, +"I shan't mind it in the least." But neither of them would smoke. "At +what hour shall we get to Aylmer Park to-morrow?" Clara asked.</p> + +<p>"At half-past four," said the Captain.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed;—so early as that." What was she to say next? Will, who +had not touched his coffee, and who was sitting stiffly at the table +as though he were bound in duty not to move, was becoming more and +more grim every moment. She almost repented that she had asked him to +remain with them. Certainly there was no comfort in his company, +either to them or to himself. "How long shall you remain in town, +Will, before you go down to Plaistow?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"One day," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Give my kind love,—my very kindest love to Mary. I wish I knew her. +I wish I could think that I might soon know her."</p> + +<p>"You'll never know her," said Belton. The tone of his voice was +actually savage as he spoke;—so much so that Aylmer turned in his +chair to look at him, and Clara did not dare to answer him. But now +that he had been made to speak, it seemed that he was determined to +persevere. "How should you ever know her? Nothing will ever bring you +into Norfolk, and nothing will ever take her out of it."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite see why either of those assertions should be made."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless they're both true. Had you ever meant to come to +Norfolk you would have come now." He had not even asked her to come, +having arranged with his sister that in their existing circumstances +any such asking would not be a kindness; and yet he rebuked her now +for not coming!</p> + +<p>"My mother is very anxious that Miss Amedroz should pay her a visit +at Aylmer Park," said the Captain.</p> + +<p>"And she's going to Aylmer Park, so your mother's anxiety need not +disturb her any longer."</p> + +<p>"Come, Will, don't be out of temper with us," said Clara. "It is our +last night together. We, who are so dear to each other, ought not to +quarrel."</p> + +<p>"I'm not quarrelling with you," said he.</p> + +<p>"I can hardly suppose that Mr. Belton wants to quarrel with me," said +Captain Aylmer, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he does not," said Clara. Belton sat silent, with his eyes +fixed upon the table, and with a dark frown upon his brow. He did +long to quarrel with Captain Aylmer; but was still anxious, if it +might be possible, to save himself from what he knew would be a +transgression.</p> + +<p>"To use a phrase common with us down in Yorkshire," said Aylmer, "I +should say that Mr. Belton had got out of bed the wrong side this +morning."</p> + +<p>"What the d—— does it matter +to you, sir, what side I got out of +bed?" said Will, clenching both his fists. Oh;—if he might only have +been allowed to have a round of five minutes with Aylmer, he would +have been restored to good temper for that night, let the subsequent +results have been what they might. He moved his feet impatiently on +the floor, as though he were longing to kick something; and then he +pushed his coffee-cup away from him, upsetting half the contents upon +the table, and knocking down a wine-glass, which was broken.</p> + +<p>"Will;—Will!" said Clara, looking at him with imploring eyes.</p> + +<p>"Then he shouldn't talk to me about getting out of bed on the wrong +side. I didn't say anything to him."</p> + +<p>"It is unkind of you, Will, to quarrel with Captain Aylmer because he +is my friend."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to quarrel with him; or, rather, as I won't quarrel +with him because you don't wish it, I'll go away. I can't do more +than that. I didn't want to dine with him here. There's my cousin +Clara, Captain Aylmer; I love her better than all the world besides. +Love her! It seems to me that there's nothing else in the world for +me to love. I'd give my heart for her this minute. All that I have in +the world is hers. Oh,—love her! I don't believe that it's in you to +know what I mean when I say that I love her! She tells me that she's +going to be your wife. You can't suppose that I can be very +comfortable under those circumstances,—or that I can be very fond of +you. I'm not very fond of you. Now I'll go away, and then I shan't +trouble you any more. But look here,—if ever you should ill-treat +her, whether you marry her or whether you don't, I'll crush every +bone in your skin." Having so spoken he went to the door, but stopped +himself before he left the room. "Good-bye, Clara. I've got a word or +two more to say to you, but I'll write you a line down-stairs. You +can show it to him if you please. It'll only be about business. +Good-night."</p> + +<p>She had got up and followed him to the door, and he had taken her by +the hand. "You shouldn't let your passion get the better of you in +this way," she said; but the tone of her voice was very soft, and her +eyes were full of love.</p> + +<p>"I suppose not," said he.</p> + +<p>"I can forgive him," said Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"D—— your forgiveness," +said Will Belton. Then Clara dropped the +hand and started back, and the door was shut, and Will Belton was +gone.</p> + +<p>"Your cousin seems to be a nice sort of young man," said Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"Cannot you understand it all, Frederic, and pardon him?"</p> + +<p>"I can pardon him easily enough; but one doesn't like men who are +given to threatening. He's not the sort of man that I took him to +be."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I think he's as nearly perfect as a man can be."</p> + +<p>"Then you like men to swear at you, and to swagger like Bobadils, and +to misbehave themselves, so that one has to blush for them if a +servant chances to hear them. Do you really think that he has +conducted himself to-day like a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"I know that he is a gentleman," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I must confess I have no reason for supposing him to be so but your +assurance."</p> + +<p>"And I hope that is sufficient, Frederic."</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer did not answer her at once, but sat for awhile silent, +considering what he would say. Clara, who understood his moods, knew +that he did not mean to drop the subject, and resolved that she would +defend her cousin, let Captain Aylmer attack him as he would.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I hardly know what to say about it," said Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"Suppose, then, that we say nothing more. Will not that be best?"</p> + +<p>"No, Clara. I cannot now let the matter pass by in that way. You have +asked me whether I do not think Mr. Belton to be a gentleman, and I +must say that I doubt it. Pray hear me out before you answer me. I do +not want to be harder upon him than I can help; and I would have +borne, and I did bear from him, a great deal in silence. But he said +that to me which I cannot allow to pass without notice. He had the +bad taste to speak to me of his—his regard for you."</p> + +<p>"I cannot see what harm he did by that;—except to himself."</p> + +<p>"I believe that it is understood among gentlemen that one man never +speaks to another man about the lady the other man means to marry, +unless they are very intimate friends indeed. What I mean is, that if +Mr. Belton had understood how gentlemen live together he would never +have said anything to me about his affection for you. He should at +any rate have supposed me to be ignorant of it. There is something in +the very idea of his doing so that is in the highest degree +indelicate. I wonder, Clara, that you do not see this yourself."</p> + +<p>"I think he was indiscreet."</p> + +<p>"Indiscreet! Indiscreet is not the word for such conduct. I must say, +that as far as my opinion goes, it was ungentlemanlike."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe that there is a nobler-minded gentleman in all +London than my cousin Will."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it gratified you to hear from him the assurance of his +love?" said Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"If it is your wish to insult me, Frederic, I will leave you."</p> + +<p>"It is my wish to make you understand that your judgment has been +wrong."</p> + +<p>"That is simply a matter of opinion, and as I do not wish to argue +with you about it, I had better go. At any rate I am very tired. +Good-night, Frederic." He then told her what arrangements he had made +for the morrow, at what hour she would be called, and when she would +have her breakfast. After that he let her go without making any +further allusion to Will Belton.</p> + +<p>It must be admitted that the meeting between the lovers had not been +auspicious; and it must be acknowledged, also, that Will Belton had +behaved very badly. I am not aware of the existence of that special +understanding among gentlemen in respect to the ladies they are going +to marry which Captain Aylmer so eloquently described; but, +nevertheless, I must confess that Belton would have done better had +he kept his feelings to himself. And when he talked of crushing his +rival's bones, he laid himself justly open to severe censure. But, +for all that, he was no Bobadil. He was angry, sore, and miserable; +and in his anger, soreness, and misery, he had allowed himself to be +carried away. He felt very keenly his own folly, even as he was +leaving the room, and as he made his way out of the hotel he hated +himself for his own braggadocio. "I wish some one would crush my +bones," he said to himself almost audibly. "No one ever deserved to +be crushed better than I do."</p> + +<p>Clara, when she got to her own room, was very serious and very sad. +What was to be the end of it all? This had been her first meeting +after her father's death with the man whom she had promised to marry; +indeed, it was the first meeting after her promise had been given; +and they had only met to quarrel. There had been no word of love +spoken between them. She had parted from him now almost in anger, +without the slightest expression of confidence between them,—almost +as those part who are constrained by circumstances to be together, +but who yet hate each other and know that they hate each other. Was +there in truth any love between him and her? And if there was none, +could there be any advantage, any good either to him or to her, in +this journey of hers to Aylmer Park? Would it not be better that she +should send for him and tell him that they were not suited for each +other, and that thus she should escape from all the terrors of Lady +Aylmer? As she thought of this, she could not but think of Will +Belton also. Not a gentleman! If Will Belton was not a gentleman, she +desired to know nothing further of gentlemen. Women are so good and +kind that those whom they love they love almost the more when they +commit offences, because of the offences so committed. Will Belton +had been guilty of great offences,—of offences for which Clara was +prepared to lecture him in the gravest manner should opportunities +for such lectures ever come;—but I think that they had increased her +regard for him rather than diminished it. She could not, however, +make up her mind to send for Captain Aylmer, and when she went to bed +she had resolved that the visit to Yorkshire must be made.</p> + +<p>Before she left the room the following morning, a letter was brought +to her from her cousin, which had been written that morning. She +asked the maid to inquire for him, and sent down word to him that if +he were in the house she specially wished to see him; but the tidings +came from the hall porter that he had gone out very early, and had +expressly said that he should not breakfast at the inn.</p> + +<p>The letter was as follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Clara</span>,</p> + +<p>I meant to have handed to you the enclosed in person, but +I lost my temper last night,—like a fool as I am,—and so +I couldn't do it. You need not have any scruple about the +money which I send,—£100 in ten ten-pound notes,—as it +is your own. There is the rent due up to your father's +death, which is more than what I now enclose, and there +will be a great many other items, as to all of which you +shall have a proper account. When you want more, you had +better draw on me, till things are settled. It shall all +be done as soon as possible. It would not be comfortable +for you to go away without money of your own, and I +suppose you would not wish that he should pay for your +journeys and things before you are married.</p> + +<p>Of course I made a fool of myself yesterday. I believe +that I usually do. It is not any good my begging your +pardon, for I don't suppose I shall ever trouble you any +more. Good-bye, and God bless you.</p> + +<p class="ind12">Your affectionate Cousin,</p> + +<p class="ind16"><span class="smallcaps">William Belton</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">It was a bad day for me when +I made up my mind to go to +Belton Castle last summer.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Clara, when she had read the letter, sat down and cried, holding the +bundle of notes in her hand. What would she do with them? Should she +send them back? Oh no;—she would do nothing to displease him, or to +make him think that she was angry with him. Besides, she had none of +that dislike to taking his money which she had felt as to receiving +money from Captain Aylmer. He had said that she would be his sister, +and she would take from him any assistance that a sister might +properly take from a brother.</p> + +<p>She went down-stairs and met Captain Aylmer in the sitting-room. He +stepped up to her as soon as the door was closed, and she could at +once see that he had determined to forget the unpleasantnesses of the +previous evening. He stepped up to her, and gracefully taking her by +one hand, and passing the other behind her waist, saluted her in a +becoming and appropriate manner. She did not like it. She especially +disliked it, believing in her heart of hearts that she would never +become the wife of this man whom she had professed to love,—and whom +she really had once loved. But she could only bear it. And, to say +the truth, there was not much suffering of that kind to be borne.</p> + +<p>Their journey down to Yorkshire was very prosperous. He maintained +his good humour throughout the day, and never once said a word about +Will Belton. Nor did he say a word about Mrs. Askerton. "Do your best +to please my mother, Clara," he said, as they were driving up from +the park lodges to the house. This was fair enough, and she therefore +promised him that she would do her best.</p> + + +<p><a name="c25" id="c25"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> +<h4>MISS AMEDROZ HAS SOME HASHED CHICKEN.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Clara felt herself to be a coward as the Aylmer Park carriage, which +had been sent to meet her at the station, was drawn up at Sir Anthony +Aylmer's door. She had made up her mind that she would not bow down +to Lady Aylmer, and yet she was afraid of the woman. As she got out +of the carriage, she looked up, expecting to see her in the hall; but +Lady Aylmer was too accurately acquainted with the weights and +measures of society for any such movement as that. Had her son +brought Lady Emily to the house as his future bride, Lady Aylmer +would probably have been in the hall when the arrival took place; and +had Clara possessed ten thousand pounds of her own, she would +probably have been met at the drawing-room door; but as she had +neither money nor title,—as she in fact brought with her no +advantages of any sort, Lady Aylmer was found stitching a bit of +worsted, as though she had expected no one to come to her. And +Belinda Aylmer was stitching also,—by special order from her mother. +The reader will remember that Lady Aylmer was not without strong hope +that the engagement might even yet be broken off. Snubbing, she +thought, might probably be efficacious to this purpose, and so Clara +was to be snubbed.</p> + +<p>Clara, who had just promised to do her best to gain Lady Aylmer's +opinion, and who desired to be in some way true to her promise, +though she thoroughly believed that her labour would be in vain, put +on her pleasantest smile as she entered the room. Belinda, under the +pressure of the circumstances, forgetting somewhat of her mother's +injunctions, hurried to the door to welcome the stranger. Lady Aylmer +kept her chair, and even maintained her stitch, till Clara was half +across the room. Then she got up, and, with great mastery over her +voice, made her little speech.</p> + +<p>"We are delighted to see you, Miss Amedroz," she said, putting out +her hand,—of which Clara, however, felt no more than the finger.</p> + +<p>"Quite delighted," said Belinda, yielding a fuller grasp. Then there +were affectionate greetings between Frederic and his mother and +Frederic and his sister, during which Clara stood by, ill at ease. +Captain Aylmer said not a word as to the footing on which his future +wife had come to his father's house. He did not ask his mother to +receive her as another daughter, or his sister to take his Clara to +her heart as a sister. There had been no word spoken of recognised +intimacy. Clara knew that the Aylmers were cold people. She had +learned as much as that from Captain Aylmer's words to herself, and +from his own manner. But she had not expected to be so frozen by them +as was the case with her now. In ten minutes she was sitting down +with her bonnet still on, and Lady Aylmer was again at her stitches.</p> + +<p>"Shall I show you your room?" said Belinda.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment, my dear," said Lady Aylmer. "Frederic has gone to see +if Sir Anthony is in his study."</p> + +<p>Sir Anthony was found in his study, and now made his appearance.</p> + +<p>"So this is Clara Amedroz," he said. "My dear, you are welcome to +Aylmer Park." This was so much better, that the kindness +expressed,—though there was nothing special in it,—brought a tear +into Clara's eye, and almost made her love Sir Anthony.</p> + +<p>"By the by, Sir Anthony, have you seen Darvel? Darvel was wanting to +see you especially about Nuggins. Nuggins says that he'll take the +bullocks now." This was said by Lady Aylmer, and was skilfully +arranged by her to put a stop to anything like enthusiasm on the part +of Sir Anthony. Clara Amedroz had been invited to Aylmer Park, and +was to be entertained there, but it would not be expedient that she +should be made to think that anybody was particularly glad to see +her, or that the family was at all proud of the proposed connection. +Within five minutes after this she was up in her room, and had +received from Belinda tenders of assistance as to her lady's maid. +Both the mother and daughter had been anxious to learn whether Clara +would bring her own maid. Lady Aylmer, thinking that she would do so, +had already blamed her for extravagance. "Of course Fred will have to +pay for the journey and all the rest of it," she had said. But as +soon as she had perceived that Clara had come without a servant, she +had perceived that any young woman who travelled in that way must be +unfit to be mated with her son. Clara, whose intelligence in such +matters was sharp enough, assured Belinda that she wanted no +assistance. "I dare say you think it very odd," she said, "but I +really can dress myself." And when the maid did come to unpack the +things, Clara would have sent her away at once had she been able. But +the maid, who was not a young woman, was obdurate. "Oh no, miss; my +lady wouldn't be pleased. If you please, miss, I'll do it." And so +the things were unpacked.</p> + +<p>Clara was told that they dined at half-past seven, and she remained +alone in her room till dinner-time, although it had not yet struck +five when she had gone up-stairs. The maid had brought her a cup of +tea, and she seated herself at her fire, turning over in her mind the +different members of the household in which she found herself. It +would never do. She told herself over and over again that it would +never come to pass that that woman should be her mother-in-law, or +that that other woman should be her sister. It was manifest to her +that she was distasteful to them; and she had not lost a moment in +assuring herself that they were distasteful to her. What purpose +could it answer that she should strive,—not to like them, for no +such strife was possible,—but to appear to like them? The whole +place and everything about it was antipathetic to her. Would it not +be simply honest to Captain Aylmer that she should tell him so at +once, and go away? Then she remembered that Frederic had not spoken +to her a single word since she had been under his father's roof. What +sort of welcome would have been accorded to her had she chosen to go +down to Plaistow Hall?</p> + +<p>At half-past seven she made her way by herself down-stairs. In this +there was some difficulty, as she remembered nothing of the rooms +below, and she could not at first find a servant. But a man at last +did come to her in the hall, and by him she was shown into the +drawing-room. Here she was alone for a few minutes. As she looked +about her, she thought that no room she had ever seen had less of the +comfort of habitation. It was not here that she had met Lady Aylmer +before dinner. There had, at any rate, been in that other room work +things, and the look of life which life gives to a room. But here +there was no life. The furniture was all in its place, and everything +was cold and grand and comfortless. They were making company of her +at Aylmer Park! Clara was intelligent in such matters, and understood +it all thoroughly.</p> + +<p>Lady Aylmer was the first person to come to her. "I hope my maid has +been with you," said she;—to which Clara muttered something intended +for thanks. "You'll find Richards a very clever woman, and quite a +proper person."</p> + +<p>"I don't at all doubt that."</p> + +<p>"She has been here a good many years, and has perhaps little ways of +her own,—but she means to be obliging."</p> + +<p>"I shall give her very little trouble, Lady Aylmer. I am used to +dress myself." I am afraid this was not exactly true as to Clara's +past habits; but she could dress herself, and intended to do so in +future, and in this way justified the assertion to herself.</p> + +<p>"You had better let Richards come to you, my dear, while you are +here," said Lady Aylmer, with a slight smile on her countenance which +outraged Clara more even than the words. "We like to see young ladies +nicely dressed here." To be told that she was to be nicely dressed +because she was at Aylmer Park! Her whole heart was already up in +rebellion. Do her best to please Lady Aylmer! It would be utterly +impossible to her to make any attempt whatever in that direction. +There was something in her ladyship's eye,—a certain mixture of +cunning, and power, and hardness in the slight smile that would +gather round her mouth, by which Clara was revolted. She already +understood much of Lady Aylmer, but in one thing she was mistaken. +She thought that she saw simply the natural woman; but she did, in +truth, see the woman specially armed with an intention of being +disagreeable, made up to give offence, and prepared to create dislike +and enmity. At the present moment nothing further was said, as +Captain Aylmer entered the room, and his mother immediately began to +talk to him in whispers.</p> + +<p>The two first days of Clara's sojourn at Aylmer Park passed by +without the occurrence of anything that was remarkable. That which +most surprised and annoyed her, as regarded her own position, was the +coldness of all the people around her, as connected with the actual +fact of her engagement. Sir Anthony was very courteous to her, but +had never as yet once alluded to the fact that she was to become one +of his family as his daughter-in-law. Lady Aylmer called her Miss +Amedroz,—using the name with a peculiar emphasis, as though +determined to show that Miss Amedroz was to be Miss Amedroz as far as +any one at Aylmer Park was concerned,—and treated her almost as +though her presence in the house was intrusive. Belinda was as cold +as her mother in her mother's presence; but when alone with Clara +would thaw a little. She, in her difficulty, studiously avoided +calling the new-comer by any name at all. As to Captain Aylmer, it +was manifest to Clara that he was suffering almost more than she +suffered herself. His position was so painful that she absolutely +pitied him for the misery to which he was subjected by his own +mother. They still called each other Frederic and Clara, and that was +the only sign of special friendship which manifested itself between +them. And Clara, though she pitied him, could not but learn to +despise him. She had hitherto given him credit at any rate for a will +of his own. She had believed him to be a man able to act in +accordance with the dictates of his own conscience. But now she +perceived him to be so subject to his mother that he did not dare to +call his heart his own. What was to be the end of it all? And if +there could only be one end, would it not be well that that end +should be reached at once, so that she might escape from her +purgatory?</p> + +<p>But on the afternoon of the third day there seemed to have come a +change over Lady Aylmer. At lunch she was especially civil,—civil to +the extent of picking out herself for Clara, with her own fork, the +breast of a hashed fowl from a dish that was before her. This she did +with considerable care,—I may say, with a show of care; and then, +though she did not absolutely call Clara by her Christian name, she +did call her "my dear." Clara saw it all, and felt that the usual +placidity of the afternoon would be broken by some special event. At +three o'clock, when the carriage as usual came to the door, Belinda +was out of the way, and Clara was made to understand that she and +Lady Aylmer were to be driven out without any other companion. +"Belinda is a little busy, my dear. So, if you don't mind, we'll go +alone." Clara of course assented, and got into the carriage with a +conviction that now she would hear her fate. She was rather inclined +to think that Lady Aylmer was about to tell her that she had failed +in obtaining the approbation of Aylmer Park, and that she must be +returned as goods of a description inferior to the order given. If +such were the case, the breast of the chicken had no doubt been +administered as consolation. Clara had endeavoured, since she had +been at Aylmer Park, to investigate her own feelings in reference to +Captain Aylmer; but had failed, and knew that she had failed. She +wished to think that she loved him, as she could not endure the +thought of having accepted a man whom she did not love. And she told +herself that he had done nothing to forfeit her love. A woman who +really loves will hardly allow that her love should be forfeited by +any fault. True love breeds forgiveness for all faults. And, after +all, of what fault had Captain Aylmer been guilty? He had preached to +her out of his mother's mouth. That had been all! She had first +accepted him, and then rejected him, and then accepted him again; and +now she would fain be firm, if firmness were only possible to her. +Nevertheless, if she were told that she was to be returned as +inferior, she would hold up her head under such disgrace as best she +might, and would not let the tidings break her heart.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Lady Aylmer, as soon as the trotting horses and +rolling wheels made noise enough to prevent her words from reaching +the servants on the box, "I want to say a few words to you;—and I +think that this will be a good opportunity."</p> + +<p>"A very good opportunity," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Of course, my dear, you are aware that I have heard of something +going on between you and my son Frederic." Now that Lady Aylmer had +taught herself to call Clara "my dear," it seemed that she could +hardly call her so often enough.</p> + +<p>"Of course I know that Captain Aylmer has told you of our engagement. +But for that, I should not be here."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how that might be," said Lady Aylmer; "but at any rate, +my dear, he has told me that since the day of my sister's death there +has been—in point of fact, a sort of engagement."</p> + +<p>"I don't think Captain Aylmer has spoken of it in that way."</p> + +<p>"In what way? Of course he has not said a word that was not nice and +lover-like, and all that sort of thing. I believe he would have done +anything in the world that his aunt had told him; and as to +<span class="nowrap">his—"</span></p> + +<p>"Lady Aylmer!" said Clara, feeling that her voice was almost +trembling with anger, "I am sure you cannot intend to be unkind to +me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"Or to insult me?"</p> + +<p>"Insult you, my dear! You should not use such strong words, my dear; +indeed you should not. Nothing of the kind is near my thoughts."</p> + +<p>"If you disapprove of my marrying your son, tell me so at once, and I +shall know what to do."</p> + +<p>"It depends, my dear;—it depends on circumstances, and that is just +why I want to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"Then tell me the circumstances,—though indeed I think it would have +been better if they could have been told to me by Captain Aylmer +himself."</p> + +<p>"There, my dear, you must allow me to judge. As a mother, of course I +am anxious for my son. Now Frederic is a poor man. Considering the +kind of society in which he has to live, and the position which he +must maintain as a Member of Parliament, he is a very poor man."</p> + +<p>This was an argument which Clara certainly had not expected that any +of the Aylmer family would condescend to use. She had always regarded +Captain Aylmer as a rich man since he had inherited Mrs. +Winterfield's property, knowing that previously to that he had been +able to live in London as rich men usually do live. "Is he?" said +she. "It may seem odd to you, Lady Aylmer, but I do not think that a +word has ever passed between me and your son as to the amount of his +income."</p> + +<p>"Not odd at all, my dear. Young ladies are always thoughtless about +those things, and when they are looking to be married think that +money will come out of the skies."</p> + +<p>"If you mean that I have been looking to be +<span class="nowrap">married—"</span></p> + +<p>"Well;—expecting. I suppose you have been expecting it." Then she +paused; but as Clara said nothing, she went on. "Of course, Frederic +has got my sister's moiety of the Perivale property;—about eight +hundred a year, or something of that sort, when all deductions are +made. He will have the other moiety when I die, and if you and he can +be satisfied to wait for that event,—which may not perhaps be very +<span class="nowrap">long—"</span> Then there +was another pause, indicative of the melancholy +natural to such a suggestion, during which Clara looked at Lady +Aylmer, and made up her mind that her ladyship would live for the +next twenty-five years at least. "If you can wait for that," she +continued, "it may be all very well, and though you will be poor +people, in Frederic's rank of life, you will be able to live."</p> + +<p>"That will be so far fortunate," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"But you'll have to wait," said Lady Aylmer, turning upon her +companion almost fiercely. "That is, you certainly will have to do so +if you are to depend upon Frederic's income alone."</p> + +<p>"I have nothing of my own,—as he knows; absolutely nothing."</p> + +<p>"That does not seem to be quite so clear," said Lady Aylmer, speaking +now very cautiously,—or rather with a purpose of great caution; "I +don't think that that is quite so clear. Frederic has been telling me +that there seems to be some sort of a doubt about the settlement of +the Belton estate."</p> + +<p>"There is no sort of doubt whatsoever;—no shadow of a doubt. He is +quite mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Don't be in such a hurry, my dear. It is not likely that you +yourself should be a very good lawyer."</p> + +<p>"Lady Aylmer, I must be in a hurry lest there should be any mistake +about this. There is no question here for lawyers. Frederic must have +been misled by a word or two which I said to him with quite another +purpose. Everybody concerned knows that the Belton estate goes to my +cousin Will. My poor father was quite aware of it."</p> + +<p>"That is all very well; and pray remember, my dear, that you need not +attack me in this way. I am endeavouring, if possible, to arrange the +accomplishment of your own wishes. It seems that Mr. Belton himself +does not claim the property."</p> + +<p>"There is no question of claiming. Because he is a man more generous +than any other person in the world,—romantically generous, he has +offered to give me the property which was my father's for his +lifetime; but I do not suppose that you would wish, or that Captain +Aylmer would wish, that I should accept such an offer as that." There +was a tone in her voice as she said this, and a glance in her eye as +she turned her face full upon her companion, which almost prevailed +against Lady Aylmer's force of character.</p> + +<p>"I really don't know, my dear," said Lady Aylmer. "You are so +violent."</p> + +<p>"I certainly am eager about this. No consideration on earth would +induce me to take my cousin's property from him."</p> + +<p>"It always seemed to me that that entail was a most unfair +proceeding."</p> + +<p>"What would it signify even if it were,—which it was not? Papa got +certain advantages on those conditions. But what can all that matter? +It belongs to Will Belton."</p> + +<p>Then there was another pause, and Clara thought that that subject was +over between them. But Lady Aylmer had not as yet completed her +purpose. "Shall I tell you, my dear, what I think you ought to do?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Lady Aylmer; if you wish it."</p> + +<p>"I can at any rate tell you what it would become any young lady to do +under such circumstances. I suppose you will give me credit for +knowing as much as that. Any young lady placed as you are would be +recommended by her friends,—if she had friends able and fit to give +her advice,—to put the whole matter into the hands of her natural +friends and her lawyer together. Hear me out, my dear, if you please. +At least you can do that for me, as I am taking a great deal of +trouble on your behalf. You should let Frederic see Mr. Green. I +understand that Mr. Green was your father's lawyer. And then Mr. +Green can see Mr. Belton. And so the matter can be arranged. It seems +to me, from what I hear, that in this way, and in this way only, +something can be done as to the proposed marriage. In no other way +can anything be done."</p> + +<p>Then Lady Aylmer had finished her argument, and throwing herself back +into the carriage, seemed to intimate that she desired no reply. She +had believed and did believe that her guest was so intent upon +marrying her son, that no struggle would be regarded as too great for +the achievement of that object. And such belief was natural on her +part. Mothers always so think of girls engaged to their sons, and so +think especially when the girls are penniless, and the sons are well +to do in the world. But such belief, though it is natural, is +sometimes wrong;—and it was altogether wrong in this instance. +"Then," said Clara, speaking very plainly, "nothing can be done."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear."</p> + +<p>After that there was not a word said between them till the carriage +was once more within the park. Then Lady Aylmer spoke again. "I +presume you see, my dear, that under these circumstances any thought +of marriage between you and my son must be quite out of the +question,—at any rate for a great many years."</p> + +<p>"I will speak to Captain Aylmer about it, Lady Aylmer."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear. So do. Of course he is his own master. But he is +my son as well, and I cannot see him sacrificed without an effort to +save him."</p> + +<p>When Clara came down to dinner on that day she was again Miss +Amedroz, and she could perceive,—from Belinda's manner quite as +plainly as from that of her ladyship,—that she was to have no more +tit-bits of hashed chicken specially picked out for her by Lady +Aylmer's own fork. That evening and the two next days passed, just as +had passed the two first days, and everything was dull, cold, and +uncomfortable. Twice she had walked out with Frederic, and on each +occasion had thought that he would refer to what his mother had said; +but he did not venture to touch upon the subject. Clara more than +once thought that she would do so herself; but when the moments came +she found that it was impossible. She could not bring herself to say +anything that should have the appearance of a desire on her part to +hurry on a marriage. She could not say to him, "If you are too poor +to be married,—or even if you mean to put forward that pretence, say +so at once." He still called her Clara, and still asked her to walk +with him, and still talked, when they were alone together, in a +distant cold way, of the events of their future combined life. Would +they live at Perivale? Would it be necessary to refurnish the house? +Should he keep any of the land on his own hands? These are all +interesting subjects of discussion between an engaged man and the +girl to whom he is engaged; but the man, if he wish to make them +thoroughly pleasant to the lady, should throw something of the +urgency of a determined and immediate purpose into the discussion. +Something should be said as to the actual destination of the rooms. A +day should be fixed for choosing the furnishing. Or the gentleman +should declare that he will at once buy the cows for the farm. But +with Frederic Aylmer all discussions seemed to point to some cold, +distant future, to which Clara might look forward as she did to the +joys of heaven. Will Belton would have bought the ring long since, +and bespoken the priest, and arranged every detail of the honeymoon +tour,—and very probably would have stood looking into a cradle shop +with longing eyes.</p> + +<p>At last there came an absolute necessity for some plain speaking. +Captain Aylmer declared his intention of returning to London that he +might resume his parliamentary duties. He had purposed to remain till +after Easter, but it was found to be impossible. "I find I must go up +to-morrow," he said at breakfast. "They are going to make a stand +about the Poor-rates, and I must be in the House in the evening." +Clara felt herself to be very cold and uncomfortable. As things were +at present arranged she was to be left at Aylmer Park without a +friend. And how long was she to remain there? No definite ending had +been proposed for her visit. Something must be said and something +settled before Captain Aylmer went away.</p> + +<p>"You will come down for Easter, of course," said his mother.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I shall come down for Easter, I think,—or at any rate at +Whitsuntide."</p> + +<p>"You must come at Easter, Frederic," said his mother.</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt but I shall," said he.</p> + +<p>"Miss Amedroz should lay her commands upon him," said Sir Anthony +gallantly.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Lady Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"I have commands to lay upon him all the same," said Clara; "and if +he will give me half an hour this morning he shall have them." To +this Captain Aylmer, of course, assented,—as how could he escape +from such assent,—and a regular appointment was made. Captain Aylmer +and Miss Amedroz were to be closeted together in the little back +drawing-room immediately after breakfast. Clara would willingly have +avoided any such formality could she have done so compatibly with the +exigencies of the occasion. She had been obliged to assert herself +when Lady Aylmer had rebuked Sir Anthony, and then Lady Aylmer had +determined that an air of business should be assumed. Clara, as she +was marched off into the back drawing-room, followed by her lover +with more sheep-like gait even than her own, felt strongly the +absurdity and the wretchedness of her position. But she was +determined to go through with her purpose.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry that I have to leave you so soon," said Captain +Aylmer as soon as the door was shut and they were alone together.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it may be better as it is, Frederic; as in this way we shall +all come to understand each other, and something will be settled."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; perhaps that will be best."</p> + +<p>"Your mother has told me that she disapproves of our marriage."</p> + +<p>"No; not that, I think. I don't think she can have quite said that."</p> + +<p>"She says that you cannot marry while she is alive,—that is, that +you cannot marry me because your income would not be sufficient."</p> + +<p>"I certainly was speaking to her about my income."</p> + +<p>"Of course I have got nothing." Here she paused. "Not a penny-piece +in the world that I can call my own."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you have."</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Nothing!"</p> + +<p>"You have your aunt's legacy?"</p> + +<p>"No; I have not. She left me no legacy. But as that is between you +and me, if we think of marrying each other, that would make no +difference."</p> + +<p>"None at all, of course."</p> + +<p>"But in truth I have got nothing. Your mother said something to me +about the Belton estate; as though there was some idea that possibly +it might come to me."</p> + +<p>"Your cousin himself seemed to think so."</p> + +<p>"Frederic, do not let us deceive ourselves. There can be nothing of +the kind. I could not accept any portion of the property from my +cousin,—even though our marriage were to depend upon it."</p> + +<p>"Of course it does not."</p> + +<p>"But if your means are not sufficient for your wants I am quite ready +to accept that reason as being sufficient for breaking our +engagement."</p> + +<p>"There need be nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"As for waiting for the death of another person,—for your mother's +death, I should think it very wrong. Of course, if our engagement +stands there need be no hurry; but—some time should be fixed." Clara +as she said this felt that her face and forehead were suffused with a +blush; but she was determined that it should be said, and the words +were pronounced.</p> + +<p>"I quite think so too," said he.</p> + +<p>"I am glad that we agree. Of course, I will leave it to you to fix +the time."</p> + +<p>"You do not mean at this very moment?" said Captain Aylmer, almost +aghast.</p> + +<p>"No; I did not mean that."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what. I'll make a point of coming down at Easter. I +wasn't sure about it before, but now I will be. And then it shall be +settled."</p> + +<p>Such was the interview; and on the next morning Captain Aylmer +started for London. Clara felt aware that she had not done or said +all that should have been done and said; but, nevertheless, a step in +the right direction had been taken.</p> + + +<p><a name="c26" id="c26"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3> +<h4>THE AYLMER PARK HASHED CHICKEN<br />COMES TO AN END.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Easter in this year fell about the middle of April, and it still +wanted three weeks of that time when Captain Aylmer started for +London. Clara was quite alive to the fact that the next three weeks +would not be a happy time for her. She looked forward, indeed, to so +much wretchedness during this period, that the days as they came were +not quite so bad as she had expected them to be. At first Lady Aylmer +said little or nothing to her. It seemed to be agreed between them +that there was to be war, but that there was no necessity for any of +the actual operations of war during the absence of Captain Aylmer. +Clara had become Miss Amedroz again; and though an offer to be driven +out in the carriage was made to her every day, she was in general +able to escape the infliction;—so that at last it came to be +understood that Miss Amedroz did not like carriage exercise. "She has +never been used to it," said Lady Aylmer to her daughter. "I suppose +not," said Belinda; "but if she wasn't so very cross she'd enjoy it +just for that reason." Clara sometimes walked about the grounds with +Belinda, but on such occasions there was hardly anything that could +be called conversation between them, and Frederic Aylmer's name was +never mentioned.</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer had not been gone many days before she received a +letter from her cousin, in which he spoke with absolute certainty of +his intention of giving up the estate. He had, he said, consulted Mr. +Green, and the thing was to be done. "But it will be better, I +think," he went on to say, "that I should manage it for you till +after your marriage. I simply mean what I say. You are not to suppose +that I shall interfere in any way afterwards. Of course there will be +a settlement, as to which I hope you will allow me to see Mr. Green +on your behalf." In the first draught of his letter he had inserted a +sentence in which he expressed a wish that the property should be so +settled that it might at last all come to some one bearing the name +of Belton. But as he read this over, the condition,—for coming from +him it would be a condition,—seemed to him to be ungenerous, and he +expunged it. "What does it matter who has it," he said to himself +bitterly, "or what he is called? I will never set my eyes upon his +children, nor yet upon the place when he has become the master of +it." Clara wrote both to her cousin and to the lawyer, repeating her +assurance,—with great violence, as Lady Aylmer would have +said,—that she would have nothing to do with the Belton estate. She +told Mr. Green that it would be useless for him to draw up any deeds. +"It can't be made mine unless I choose to have it," she said, "and I +don't choose to have it." Then there came upon her a terrible fear. +What if she should marry Captain Aylmer after all; and what if he, +when he should be her husband, should take the property on her +behalf! Something must be done before her marriage to prevent the +possibility of such results,—something as to the efficacy of which +for such prevention she could feel altogether certain.</p> + +<p>But could she marry Captain Aylmer at all in her present mood? During +these three weeks she was unconsciously teaching herself to hope that +she might be relieved from her engagement. She did not love him. She +was becoming aware that she did not love him. She was beginning to +doubt whether, in truth, she had ever loved him. But yet she felt +that she could not escape from her engagement if he should show +himself to be really actuated by any fixed purpose to carry it out; +nor could she bring herself to be so weak before Lady Aylmer as to +seem to yield. The necessity of not striking her colours was forced +upon her by the warfare to which she was subjected. She was unhappy, +feeling that her present position in life was bad, and unworthy of +her. She could have brought herself almost to run away from Aylmer +Park, as a boy runs away from school, were it not that she had no +place to which to run. She could not very well make her appearance at +Plaistow Hall, and say that she had come there for shelter and +succour. She could, indeed, go to Mrs. Askerton's cottage for awhile; +and the more she thought of the state of her affairs, the more did +she feel sure that that would, before long, be her destiny. It must +be her destiny,—unless Captain Aylmer should return at Easter with +purposes so firmly fixed that even his mother should not be able to +prevail against them.</p> + +<p>And now, in these days, circumstances gave her a new friend,—or +perhaps, rather, a new acquaintance, where she certainly had looked +neither for the one or for the other. Lady Aylmer and Belinda and the +carriage and the horses used, as I have said, to go off without her. +This would take place soon after luncheon. Most of us know how the +events of the day drag themselves on tediously in such a country +house as Aylmer Park,—a country house in which people neither read, +nor flirt, nor gamble, nor smoke, nor have resort to the excitement +of any special amusement. Lunch was on the table at half-past one, +and the carriage was at the door at three. Eating and drinking and +the putting on of bonnets occupied the hour and a half. From +breakfast to lunch Lady Aylmer, with her old "front," would occupy +herself with her household accounts. For some days after Clara's +arrival she put on her new "front" before lunch; but of late,—since +the long conversation in the carriage,—the new "front" did not +appear till she came down for the carriage. According to the theory +of her life, she was never to be seen by any but her own family in +her old "front." At breakfast she would appear with head so +mysteriously enveloped,—with such a bewilderment of morning caps, +that old "front" or new "front" was all the same. When Sir Anthony +perceived this change,—when he saw that Clara was treated as though +she belonged to Aylmer Park, then he told himself that his son's +marriage with Miss Amedroz was to be; and, as Miss Amedroz seemed to +him to be a very pleasant young woman, he would creep out of his own +quarters when the carriage was gone and have a little chat with +her,—being careful to creep away again before her ladyship's return. +This was Clara's new friend.</p> + +<p>"Have you heard from Fred since he has been gone?" the old man asked +one day, when he had come upon Clara still seated in the parlour in +which they had lunched. He had been out, at the front of the house, +scolding the under-gardener; but the man had taken away his barrow +and left him, and Sir Anthony had found himself without employment.</p> + +<p>"Only a line to say that he is to be here on the sixteenth."</p> + +<p>"I don't think people write so many love-letters as they did when I +was young," said Sir Anthony.</p> + +<p>"To judge from the novels, I should think not. The old novels used to +be full of love-letters."</p> + +<p>"Fred was never good at writing, I think."</p> + +<p>"Members of Parliament have too much to do, I suppose," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"But he always writes when there is any business. He's a capital man +of business. I wish I could say as much for his brother,—or for +myself."</p> + +<p>"Lady Aylmer seems to like work of that sort."</p> + +<p>"So she does. She's fond of it,—I am not. I sometimes think that +Fred takes after her. Where was it you first knew him?"</p> + +<p>"At Perivale. We used, both of us, to be staying with Mrs. +Winterfield."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; of course. The most natural thing in life. Well, my dear, +I can assure you that I am quite satisfied."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Sir Anthony. I'm glad to hear you say even as much as +that."</p> + +<p>"Of course money is very desirable for a man situated like Fred; but +he'll have enough, and if he is pleased, I am. Personally, as regards +yourself, I am more than pleased. I am indeed."</p> + +<p>"It's very good of you to say so."</p> + +<p>Sir Anthony looked at Clara, and his heart was softened towards her +as he saw that there was a tear in her eye. A man's heart must be +very hard when it does not become softened by the trouble of a woman +with whom he finds himself alone. "I don't know how you and Lady +Aylmer get on together," said he; "but it will not be my fault if we +are not friends."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that Lady Aylmer does not like me," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Indeed. I was afraid there was something of that. But you must +remember she is hard to please. You'll find she'll come round in +time."</p> + +<p>"She thinks that Captain Aylmer should not marry a woman without +money."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well; but I don't see why Fred shouldn't please +himself. He's old enough to know what he wants."</p> + +<p>"Is he, Sir Anthony? That's just the question. I'm not quite sure +that he does know what he wants."</p> + +<p>"Fred doesn't know, do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I don't quite think he does, sir. And the worst of it is, I am in +doubt as well as he."</p> + +<p>"In doubt about marrying him?"</p> + +<p>"In doubt whether it will be good for him or for any of us. I don't +like to come into a family that does not desire to have me."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't think so much of Lady Aylmer as all that, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But I do think a great deal of her."</p> + +<p>"I shall be very glad to have you as a daughter-in-law. And as for +Lady Aylmer—between you and me, my dear, you shouldn't take every +word she says so much to heart. She's the best woman in the world, +and I'm sure I'm bound to say so. But she has her temper, you know; +and I don't think you ought to give way to her altogether. There's +the carriage. It won't do you any good if we're found together +talking over it all; will it?" Then the baronet hobbled off, and Lady +Aylmer, when she entered the room, found Clara sitting alone.</p> + +<p>Whether it was that the wife was clever enough to extract from her +husband something of the conversation that had passed between him and +Clara, or whether she had some other source of information,—or +whether her conduct might proceed from other grounds, we need not +inquire; but from that afternoon Lady Aylmer's manner and words to +Clara became much less courteous than they had been before. She would +always speak as though some great iniquity was being committed, and +went about the house with a portentous frown, as though some terrible +measure must soon be taken with the object of putting an end to the +present extremely improper state of things. All this was so manifest +to Clara, that she said to Sir Anthony one day that she could no +longer bear the look of Lady Aylmer's displeasure,—and that she +would be forced to leave Aylmer Park before Frederic's return, unless +the evil were mitigated. She had by this time told Sir Anthony that +she much doubted whether the marriage would be possible, and that she +really believed that it would be best for all parties that the idea +should be abandoned. Sir Anthony, when he heard this, could only +shake his head and hobble away. The trouble was too deep for him to +cure.</p> + +<p>But Clara still held on; and now there wanted but two days to Captain +Aylmer's return, when, all suddenly, there arose a terrible storm at +Aylmer Park, and then came a direct and positive quarrel between Lady +Aylmer and Clara,—a quarrel direct and positive, and, on the part of +both ladies, very violent.</p> + +<p>Nothing had hitherto been said at Aylmer Park about Mrs. +Askerton,—nothing, that is, since Clara's arrival. And Clara had +been thankful for this silence. The letter which Captain Aylmer had +written to her about Mrs. Askerton will perhaps be remembered, and +Clara's answer to that letter. The Aylmer Park opinion as to this +poor woman, and as to Clara's future conduct towards the poor woman, +had been expressed very strongly; and Clara had as strongly resolved +that she would not be guided by Aylmer Park opinions in that matter. +She had anticipated much that was disagreeable on this subject, and +had therefore congratulated herself not a little on the absence of +all allusion to it. But Lady Aylmer had, in truth, kept Mrs. Askerton +in reserve, as a battery to be used against Miss Amedroz if all other +modes of attack should fail,—as a weapon which would be powerful +when other weapons had been powerless. For awhile she had thought it +possible that Clara might be the owner of the Belton estate, and then +it had been worth the careful mother's while to be prepared to accept +a daughter-in-law so dowered. We have seen how the question of such +ownership had enabled her to put forward the plea of poverty which +she had used on her son's behalf. But since that Frederic had +declared his intention of marrying the young woman in spite of his +poverty, and Clara seemed to be equally determined. "He has been fool +enough to speak the word, and she is determined to keep him to it," +said Lady Aylmer to her daughter. Therefore the Askerton battery was +brought to bear,—not altogether unsuccessfully.</p> + +<p>The three ladies were sitting together in the drawing-room, and had +been as mute as fishes for half an hour. In these sittings they were +generally very silent, speaking only in short little sentences. "Will +you drive with us to-day, Miss Amedroz?" "Not to-day, I think, Lady +Aylmer." "As you are reading, perhaps you won't mind our leaving +you?" "Pray do not put yourself to inconvenience for me, Miss +Aylmer." Such and such like was their conversation; but on a sudden, +after a full half-hour's positive silence, Lady Aylmer asked a +question altogether of another kind. "I think, Miss Amedroz, my son +wrote to you about a certain Mrs. Askerton?"</p> + +<p>Clara put down her work and sat for a moment almost astonished. It +was not only that Lady Aylmer had asked so very disagreeable a +question, but that she had asked it with so peculiar a voice,—a +voice as it were a command, in a manner that was evidently intended +to be taken as serious, and with a look of authority in her eye, as +though she were resolved that this battery of hers should knock the +enemy absolutely in the dust! Belinda gave a little spring in her +chair, looked intently at her work, and went on stitching faster than +before. "Yes he did," said Clara, finding that an answer was +imperatively demanded from her.</p> + +<p>"It was quite necessary that he should write. I believe it to be an +undoubted fact that Mrs. Askerton is,—is,—is,—not at all what she +ought to be."</p> + +<p>"Which of us is what we ought to be?" said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Miss Amedroz, on this subject I am not at all inclined to joke. Is +it not true that Mrs. +<span class="nowrap">Askerton—"</span></p> + +<p>"You must excuse me, Lady Aylmer, but what I know of Mrs. Askerton, I +know altogether in confidence; so that I cannot speak to you of her +past life."</p> + +<p>"But, Miss Amedroz, pray excuse me if I say that I must speak of it. +When I remember the position in which you do us the honour of being +our visitor here, how can I help speaking of it?" Belinda was +stitching very hard, and would not even raise her eyes. Clara, who +still held her needle in her hand, resumed her work, and for a moment +or two made no further answer. But Lady Aylmer had by no means +completed her task. "Miss Amedroz," she said, "you must allow me to +judge for myself in this matter. The subject is one on which I feel +myself obliged to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"But I have got nothing to say about it."</p> + +<p>"You have, I believe, admitted the truth of the allegations made by +us as to this woman." Clara was becoming very angry. A red spot +showed itself on each cheek, and a frown settled upon her brow. She +did not as yet know what she would say or how she would conduct +herself. She was striving to consider how best she might assert her +own independence. But she was fully determined that in this matter +she would not bend an inch to Lady Aylmer. "I believe we may take +that as admitted?" said her ladyship.</p> + +<p>"I am not aware that I have admitted anything to you, Lady Aylmer, or +said anything that can justify you in questioning me on the subject."</p> + +<p>"Justify me in questioning a young woman who tells me that she is to +be my future daughter-in-law!"</p> + +<p>"I have not told you so. I have never told you anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"Then on what footing, Miss Amedroz, do you do us the honour of being +with us here at Aylmer Park?"</p> + +<p>"On a very foolish footing."</p> + +<p>"On a foolish footing! What does that mean?"</p> + +<p>"It means that I have been foolish in coming to a house in which I am +subjected to such questioning."</p> + +<p>"Belinda, did you ever hear anything like this? Miss Amedroz, I must +persevere, however much you may dislike it. The story of this woman's +life,—whether she be Mrs. Askerton or not, I don't +<span class="nowrap">know—"</span></p> + +<p>"She is Mrs. Askerton," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"As to that I do not profess to know, and I dare say that you are no +wiser than myself. But what she has been we do know." Here Lady +Aylmer raised her voice and continued to speak with all the eloquence +which assumed indignation could give her. "What she has been we do +know, and I ask you, as a duty which I owe to my son, whether you +have put an end to your acquaintance with so very disreputable a +person,—a person whom even to have known is a disgrace?"</p> + +<p>"I know her, and—"</p> + +<p>"Stop one minute, if you please. My questions are these—Have you put +an end to that acquaintance? And are you ready to give a promise that +it shall never be resumed?"</p> + +<p>"I have not put an end to that acquaintance,—or rather that +affectionate friendship as I should call it, and I am ready to +promise that it shall be maintained with all my heart."</p> + +<p>"Belinda, do you hear her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma." And Belinda slowly shook her head, which was now bowed +lower than ever over her lap.</p> + +<p>"And that is your resolution?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Lady Aylmer; that is my resolution."</p> + +<p>"And you think that becoming to you, as a young woman?"</p> + +<p>"Just so; I think that becoming to me,—as a young woman."</p> + +<p>"Then let me tell you, Miss Amedroz, that I differ from you +altogether,—altogether." Lady Aylmer, as she repeated the last word, +raised her folded hands as though she were calling upon heaven to +witness how thoroughly she differed from the young woman!</p> + +<p>"I don't see how I am to help that, Lady Aylmer. I dare say we may +differ on many subjects."</p> + +<p>"I dare say we do. I dare say we do. And I need not point out to you +how very little that would be a matter of regret to me, but for the +hold you have upon my unfortunate son."</p> + +<p>"Hold upon him, Lady Aylmer! How dare you insult me by such +language?" Hereupon Belinda again jumped in her chair; but Lady +Aylmer looked as though she enjoyed the storm.</p> + +<p>"You undoubtedly have a hold upon him, Miss Amedroz, and I think that +it is a great misfortune. Of course, when he hears what your conduct +is with reference to this—person, he will release himself from his +entanglement."</p> + +<p>"He can release himself from his entanglement whenever he chooses," +said Clara, rising from her chair. "Indeed, he is released. I shall +let Captain Aylmer know that our engagement must be at an end, unless +he will promise that I shall never in future be subjected to the +unwarrantable insolence of his mother." Then she walked off to the +door, not regarding, and indeed not hearing, the parting shot that +was fired at her.</p> + +<p>And now what was to be done! Clara went up to her own room, making +herself strong and even comfortable, with an inward assurance that +nothing should ever induce her even to sit down to table again with +Lady Aylmer. She would not willingly enter the same room with Lady +Aylmer, or have any speech with her. But what should she at once do? +She could not very well leave Aylmer Park without settling whither +she would go; nor could she in any way manage to leave the house on +that afternoon. She almost resolved that she would go to Mrs. +Askerton. Everything was of course over between her and Captain +Aylmer, and therefore there was no longer any hindrance to her doing +so on that score. But what would be her cousin Will's wish? He, now, +was the only friend to whom she could trust for good council. What +would be his advice? Should she write and ask him? No;—she could not +do that. She could not bring herself to write to him, telling him +that the Aylmer "entanglement" was at an end. Were she to do so, he, +with his temperament, would take such letter as meaning much more +than it was intended to mean. But she would write a letter to Captain +Aylmer. This she thought that she would do at once, and she began it. +She got as far as "My dear Captain Aylmer," and then she found that +the letter was one which could not be written very easily. And she +remembered, as the greatness of the difficulty of writing the letter +became plain to her, that it could not now be sent so as to reach +Captain Aylmer before he would leave London. If written at all, it +must be addressed to him at Aylmer Park, and the task might be done +to-morrow as well as to-day. So that task was given up for the +present.</p> + +<p>But she did write a letter to Mrs. Askerton,—a letter which she +would send or not on the morrow, according to the state of her mind +as it might then be. In this she declared her purpose of leaving +Aylmer Park on the day after Captain Aylmer's arrival, and asked to +be taken in at the cottage. An answer was to be sent to her, +addressed to the Great Northern Railway Hotel.</p> + +<p>Richards, the maid, came up to her before dinner, with offers of +assistance for dressing,—offers made in a tone which left no doubt +on Clara's mind that Richards knew all about the quarrel. But Clara +declined to be dressed, and sent down a message saying that she would +remain in her room, and begging to be supplied with tea. She would +not even condescend to say that she was troubled with a headache. +Then Belinda came up to her, just before dinner was announced, and +with a fluttered gravity advised Miss Amedroz to come down-stairs. +"Mamma thinks it will be much better that you should show yourself, +let the final result be what it may."</p> + +<p>"But I have not the slightest desire to show myself."</p> + +<p>"There are the servants, you know."</p> + +<p>"But, Miss Aylmer, I don't care a straw for the servants;—really not +a straw."</p> + +<p>"And papa will feel it so."</p> + +<p>"I shall be sorry if Sir Anthony is annoyed;—but I cannot help it. +It has not been my doing."</p> + +<p>"And mamma says that my brother would of course wish it."</p> + +<p>"After what your mother has done, I don't see what his wishes would +have to do with it,—even if she knew them,—which I don't think she +does."</p> + +<p>"But if you will think of it, I'm sure you'll find it is the proper +thing to do. There is nothing to be avoided so much as an open +quarrel, that all the servants can see."</p> + +<p>"I must say, Miss Aylmer, that I disregard the servants. After what +passed down-stairs, of course I have had to consider what I should +do. Will you tell your mother that I will stay here, if she will +permit it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. She will be delighted."</p> + +<p>"I will remain, if she will permit it, till the morning after Captain +Aylmer's arrival. Then I shall go."</p> + +<p>"Where to, Miss Amedroz?"</p> + +<p>"I have already written to a friend, asking her to receive me."</p> + +<p>Miss Aylmer paused a moment before she asked her next question;—but +she did ask it, showing by her tone and manner that she had been +driven to summon up all her courage to enable her to do so. "To what +friend, Miss Amedroz? Mamma will be glad to know."</p> + +<p>"That is a question which Lady Aylmer can have no right to ask," said +Clara.</p> + +<p>"Oh;—very well. Of course, if you don't like to tell, there's no +more to be said."</p> + +<p>"I do not like to tell, Miss Aylmer."</p> + +<p>Clara had her tea in her room that evening, and lived there the whole +of the next day. The family down-stairs was not comfortable. Sir +Anthony could not be made to understand why his guest kept her +room,—which was not odd, as Lady Aylmer was very sparing in the +information she gave him; and Belinda found it to be impossible to +sit at table, or to say a few words to her father and mother, without +showing at every moment her consciousness that a crisis had occurred. +By the next day's post the letter to Mrs. Askerton was sent, and at +the appointed time Captain Aylmer arrived. About an hour after he +entered the house, Belinda went up-stairs with a message from +him;—would Miss Amedroz see him? Miss Amedroz would see him, but +made it a condition of doing so that she should not be required to +meet Lady Aylmer. "She need not be afraid," said Lady Aylmer. "Unless +she sends me a full apology, with a promise that she will have no +further intercourse whatever with that woman, I will never willingly +see her again." A meeting was therefore arranged between Captain +Aylmer and Miss Amedroz in a sitting-room up-stairs.</p> + +<p>"What is all this, Clara?" said Captain Aylmer, at once.</p> + +<p>"Simply this,—that your mother has insulted me most wantonly."</p> + +<p>"She says that it is you who have been uncourteous to her."</p> + +<p>"Be it so;—you can of course believe whichever you please, and it is +desirable, no doubt, that you should prefer to believe your mother."</p> + +<p>"But I do not wish there to be any quarrel."</p> + +<p>"But there is a quarrel, Captain Aylmer, and I must leave your +father's house. I cannot stay here after what has taken place. Your +mother told me;—I cannot tell you what she told me, but she made +against me just those accusations which she knew it would be the +hardest for me to bear."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you have mistaken her."</p> + +<p>"No; I have not mistaken her."</p> + +<p>"And where do you propose to go?"</p> + +<p>"To Mrs. Askerton."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Clara!"</p> + +<p>"I have written to Mrs. Askerton to ask her to receive me for awhile. +Indeed, I may almost say that I had no other choice."</p> + +<p>"If you go there, Clara, there will be an end to everything."</p> + +<p>"And there must be an end of what you call everything, Captain +Aylmer," said she, smiling. "It cannot be for your good to bring into +your family a wife of whom your mother would think so badly as she +thinks of me."</p> + +<p>There was a great deal said, and Captain Aylmer walked very often up +and down the room, endeavouring to make some arrangement which might +seem in some sort to appease his mother. Would Clara only allow a +telegram to be sent to Mrs. Askerton, to explain that she had changed +her mind? But Clara would allow no such telegram to be sent, and on +that evening she packed up all her things. Captain Aylmer saw her +again and again, sending Belinda backwards and forwards, and making +different appointments up to midnight; but it was all to no purpose, +and on the next morning she took her departure alone in the Aylmer +Park carriage for the railway station. Captain Aylmer had proposed to +go with her; but she had so stoutly declined his company that he was +obliged to abandon his intention. She saw neither of the ladies on +that morning, but Sir Anthony came out to say a word of farewell to +her in the hall. "I am very sorry for all this," said he. "It is a +pity," said Clara, "but it cannot be helped. Good-bye, Sir Anthony." +"I hope we may meet again under pleasanter circumstances," said the +baronet. To this Clara made no reply, and was then handed into the +carriage by Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>"I am so bewildered," said he, "that I cannot now say anything +definite, but I shall write to you, and probably follow you."</p> + +<p>"Do not follow me, pray, Captain Aylmer," said she. Then she was +driven to the station; and as she passed through the lodges of the +park entrance she took what she intended to be a final farewell of +Aylmer Park.</p> + + +<p><a name="c27" id="c27"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3> +<h4>ONCE MORE BACK TO BELTON.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>When the carriage was driven away, Sir Anthony and Captain Aylmer +were left standing alone at the hall door of the house. The servants +had slunk off, and the father and son, looking at each other, felt +that they also must slink away, or else have some words together on +the subject of their guest's departure. The younger gentleman would +have preferred that there should be no words, but Sir Anthony was +curious to know something of what had passed in the house during the +last few days. "I'm afraid things are not going quite comfortable," +he said.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me, sir," said his son, "that things very seldom do go +quite comfortable."</p> + +<p>"But, Fred,—what is it all about? Your mother says that Miss Amedroz +is behaving very badly."</p> + +<p>"And Miss Amedroz says that my mother is behaving very badly."</p> + +<p>"Of course;—that's only natural. And what do you say?"</p> + +<p>"I say nothing, sir. The less said the soonest mended."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well; but it seems to me that you, in your position, +must say something. The long and the short of it is this. Is she to +be your wife?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, sir, I don't know."</p> + +<p>They were still standing out under the portico, and as Sir Anthony +did not for a minute or two ask any further questions, Captain Aylmer +turned as though he were going into the house. But his father had +still a word or two to say. "Stop a moment, Fred. I don't often +trouble you with advice."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I'm always glad to hear it when you offer any."</p> + +<p>"I know very well that in most things your opinion is better than +mine. You've had advantages which I never had. But I've had more +experience than you, my dear boy. It stands to reason that in some +things I must have had more experience than you." There was a tone of +melancholy in the father's voice as he said this which quite touched +his son, and which brought the two closer together out in the porch. +"Take my word for it," continued Sir Anthony, "that you are much +better off as you are than you could be with a wife."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that no man should marry?"</p> + +<p>"No;—I don't mean to say that. An eldest son ought to marry, so that +the property may have an heir. And poor men should marry, I suppose, +as they want wives to do for them. And sometimes, no doubt, a man +must marry—when he has got to be very fond of a girl, and has +compromised himself, and all that kind of thing. I would never advise +any man to sully his honour." As Sir Anthony said this he raised +himself a little with his two sticks and spoke out in a bolder voice. +The voice however, sank again as he descended from the realms of +honour to those of prudence. "But none of these cases are yours, +Fred. To be sure you'll have the Perivale property; but that is not a +family estate, and you'll be much better off by turning it into +money. And in the way of comfort, you can be a great deal more +comfortable without a wife than you can with one. What do you want a +wife for? And then, as to Miss Amedroz,—for myself I must say that I +like her uncommonly. She has been very pleasant in her ways with me. +But,—somehow or another, I don't think you are so much in love with +her but what you can do without her." Hereupon he paused and looked +his son full in the face. Fred had also been thinking of the matter +in his own way, and asking himself the same question,—whether he was +in truth so much in love with Clara that he could not live without +her. "Of course I don't know," continued Sir Anthony, "what has taken +place just now between you and her, or what between her and your +mother; but I suppose the whole thing might fall through without any +further trouble to you,—or without anything unhandsome on your +part?" But Captain Aylmer still said nothing. The whole thing might, +no doubt, fall through, but he wished to be neither unjust nor +ungenerous,—and he specially wished to avoid anything unhandsome. +After a further pause of a few minutes, Sir Anthony went on again, +pouring forth the words of experience. "Of course marriage is all +very well. I married rather early in life, and have always found your +mother to be a most excellent woman. A better woman doesn't breathe. +I'm as sure of that as I am of anything. But God bless me,—of course +you can see. I can't call anything my own. I'm tied down here and I +can't move. I've never got a shilling to spend, while all these lazy +hounds about the place are eating me up. There isn't a clerk with a +hundred a year in London that isn't better off than I am as regards +ready money. And what comfort have I in a big house, and no end of +gardens, and a place like this? What pleasures do I get out of it? +That comes of marrying and keeping up one's name in the county +respectably! What do I care for the county? +<span class="nowrap">D——</span> the county! I often +wish that I'd been a younger son,—as you are."</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer had no answer to make to all this. It was, no doubt, +the fact that age and good living had made Sir Anthony altogether +incapable of enjoying the kind of life which he desiderated, and that +he would probably have eaten and drunk himself into his grave long +since had that kind of life been within his reach. This, however, the +son could not explain to the father. But in fitting, as he +endeavoured to do, his father's words to his own case, Captain Aylmer +did perceive that a bachelor's life might perhaps be the most +suitable to his own peculiar case. Only he would do nothing +unhandsome. As to that he was quite resolved. Of course Clara must +show herself to be in some degree amenable to reason and to the +ordinary rules of the world; but he was aware that his mother was +hot-tempered, and he generously made up his mind that he would give +Miss Amedroz even yet another chance.</p> + +<p>At the hotel in London Clara found a short note from Mrs. Askerton, +in which she was warmly assured that everything should be done to +make her comfortable at the cottage as long as she should wish to +stay there. But the very warmth of affection thus expressed made her +almost shrink from what she was about to do. Mrs. Askerton was no +doubt anxious for her coming; but would her cousin Will Belton +approve of the visit; and what would her cousin Mary say about it? If +she was being driven into this step against her own approval, by the +insolence of Lady Aylmer,—if she was doing this thing simply because +Lady Aylmer had desired her not to do it, and was doing it in +opposition to the wishes of the man she had promised to marry as well +as to her own judgment, there could not but be cause for shrinking. +And yet she believed that she was right. If she could only have had +some one to tell her,—some one in whom she could trust implicitly to +direct her! She had hitherto been very much prone to rebel against +authority. Against her aunt she had rebelled, and against her father, +and against her lover. But now she wished with all her heart that +there might be some one to whom she could submit with perfect faith. +If she could only know what her cousin Will would think. In him she +thought she could have trusted with that perfect faith;—if only he +would have been a brother to her.</p> + +<p>But it was too late now for doubting, and on the next day she found +herself getting out of the old Redicote fly, at Colonel Askerton's +door. He came out to meet her, and his greeting was very friendly. +Hitherto there had been no great intimacy between him and her, owing +rather to the manner of life adopted by him than to any cause of +mutual dislike between them. Mrs. Askerton had shown herself desirous +of some social intercourse since she had been at Belton, but with +Colonel Askerton there had been nothing of this. He had come there +intending to live alone, and had been satisfied to carry out his +purpose. But now Clara had come to his house as a guest, and he +assumed towards her altogether a new manner. "We are so glad to have +you," he said, taking both her hands. Then she passed on into the +cottage, and in a minute was in her friend's arms.</p> + +<p>"Dear Clara;—dearest Clara, I am so glad to have you here."</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you."</p> + +<p>"No, dear; the goodness is with you to come. But we won't quarrel +about that. We will both be ever so good. And he is so happy that you +should be here. You'll get to know him now. But come up-stairs. +There's a fire in your room, and I'll be your maid for the +occasion,—because then we can talk." Clara did as she was bid and +went up-stairs; and as she sat over the fire while her friend knelt +beside her,—for Mrs. Askerton was given to such kneelings,—she +could not but tell herself that Belton Cottage was much more +comfortable than Aylmer Park. During the whole time of her sojourn at +Aylmer Park no word of real friendship had once greeted her ears. +Everything there had been cold and formal, till coldness and +formality had given way to violent insolence.</p> + +<p>"And so you have quarrelled with her ladyship," said Mrs. Askerton. +"I knew you would."</p> + +<p>"I have not said anything about quarrelling with her."</p> + +<p>"But of course you have. Come, now; don't make yourself disagreeable. +You have had a downright battle;—have you not?"</p> + +<p>"Something very like it, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad," said Mrs. Askerton, rubbing her hands.</p> + +<p>"That is ill-natured."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Let it be ill-natured. One isn't to be good-natured all +round, or what would be the use of it? And what sort of woman is +she?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear; I couldn't describe her. She is very large, and wears a +great wig, and manages everything herself, and I've no doubt she's a +very good woman in her own way."</p> + +<p>"I can see her at once;—and a very pillar of virtue as regards +morality and going to church. Poor me! Does she know that you have +come here?"</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt she does. I did not tell her, nor would I tell her +daughter; but I told Captain Aylmer."</p> + +<p>"That was right. That was very right. I'm so glad of that. But who +would doubt that you would show a proper spirit? And what did he +say?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, indeed."</p> + +<p>"I won't trouble you about him. I don't in the least doubt but all +that will come right. And what sort of man is Sir Anthony?"</p> + +<p>"A common-place sort of a man; very gouty, and with none of his +wife's strength. I liked him the best of them all."</p> + +<p>"Because you saw the least of him, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"He was kind in his manner to me."</p> + +<p>"And they were like she-dragons. I understand it all, and can see +them just as though I had been there. I felt that I knew what would +come of it when you first told me that you were going to Aylmer Park. +I did, indeed. I could have prophesied it all."</p> + +<p>"What a pity you did not."</p> + +<p>"It would have done no good;—and your going there has done good. It +has opened your eyes to more than one thing, I don't doubt. But tell +me,—have you told them in Norfolk that you were coming here?"</p> + +<p>"No;—I have not written to my cousin."</p> + +<p>"Don't be angry with me if I tell you something. I have."</p> + +<p>"Have what?"</p> + +<p>"I have told Mr. Belton that you were coming here. It was in this +way. I had to write to him about our continuing in the cottage. +Colonel Askerton always makes me write if it's possible, and of +course we were obliged to settle something as to the place."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry you said anything about me."</p> + +<p>"How could I help it? What would you have thought of me, or what +would he have thought, if, when writing to him, I had not mentioned +such a thing as your visit? Besides, it's much better that he should +know."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that you said anything about it."</p> + +<p>"You are ashamed that he should know that you are here," said Mrs. +Askerton, in a tone of reproach.</p> + +<p>"Ashamed! No; I am not ashamed. But I would sooner that he had not +been told,—as yet. Of course he would have been told before long."</p> + +<p>"But you are not angry with me?"</p> + +<p>"Angry! How can I be angry with any one who is so kind to me?"</p> + +<p>That evening passed by very pleasantly, and when she went again to +her own room, Clara was almost surprised to find how completely she +was at home. On the next day she and Mrs. Askerton together went up +to the house, and roamed through all the rooms, and Clara seated +herself in all the accustomed chairs. On the sofa, just in the spot +to which Belton had thrown it, she found the key of the cellar. She +took it up in her hand, thinking that she would give it to the +servant; but again she put it back upon the sofa. It was his key, and +he had left it there, and if ever there came an occasion she would +remind him where he had put it. Then they went out to the cow, who +was at her ease in a little home paddock.</p> + +<p>"Dear Bessy," said Clara. "See how well she knows me." But I think +the tame little beast would have known any one else as well who had +gone up to her as Clara did, with food in her hand. "She is quite as +sacred as any cow that ever was worshipped among the +cow-worshippers," said Mrs. Askerton. "I suppose they milk her and +sell the butter, but otherwise she is not regarded as an ordinary cow +at all." "Poor Bessy," said Clara. "I wish she had never come here. +What is to be done with her?" "Done with her! She'll stay here till +she dies a natural death, and then a romantic pair of mourners will +follow her to her grave, mixing their sympathetic tears comfortably +as they talk of the old days; and in future years, Bessy will grow to +be a divinity of the past, never to be mentioned without tenderest +reminiscences. I have not the slightest difficulty in prophesying as +to Bessy's future life and posthumous honours." They roamed about the +place the whole morning, through the garden and round the farm +buildings, and in and out of the house; and at every turn something +was said about Will Belton. But Clara would not go up to the rocks, +although Mrs. Askerton more than once attempted to turn in that +direction. He had said that he never would go there again except +under certain circumstances. She knew that those circumstances would +never come to pass; but yet neither would she go there. She would +never go there till her cousin was married. Then, if in those days +she should ever be present at Belton Castle, she would creep up to +the spot all alone, and allow herself to think of the old days.</p> + +<p>On the following morning there came to her a letter bearing the +Downham post-mark,—but at the first glance she knew that it was not +from her cousin Will. Will wrote with a bold round hand, that was +extremely plain and caligraphic when he allowed himself time for the +work in hand, as he did with the commencement of his epistles, but +which would become confused and altogether anti-caligraphic when he +fell into a hurry towards the end of his performance,—as was his +wont. But the address of this letter was written in a pretty, small, +female hand,—very careful in the perfection of every letter, and +very neat in every stroke. It was from Mary Belton, between whom and +Clara there had never hitherto been occasion for correspondence. The +letter was as <span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Plaistow Hall, April, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Cousin +Clara</span>,</p> + +<p>William has heard from your friends at Belton, who are +tenants on the estate, and as to whom there seems to be +some question whether they are to remain. He has written, +saying, I believe, that there need be no difficulty if +they wish to stay there. But we learn, also, from Mrs. +Askerton's letter, that you are expected at the cottage, +and therefore I will address this to Belton, supposing +that it may find you there.</p> + +<p>You and I have never yet known each other;—which has been +a grief to me; but this grief, I hope, may be cured some +day before long. I myself, as you know, am such a poor +creature that I cannot go about the world to see my +friends as other people do;—at least, not very well; and +therefore I write to you with the object of asking you to +come and see me here. This is an interesting old house in +its way; and though I must not conceal from you that life +here is very, very quiet, I would do my best to make the +days pass pleasantly with you. I had heard that you were +gone to Aylmer Park. Indeed, William told me of his taking +you up to London. Now it seems you have left Yorkshire, +and I suppose you will not return there very soon. If it +be so, will it not be well that you should come to me for +a short time?</p> + +<p>Both William and I feel that just for the present,—for a +little time,—you would perhaps prefer to be alone with +me. He must go to London for awhile, and then on to +Belton, to settle your affairs and his. He intends to be +absent for six weeks. If you would not be afraid of the +dullness of this house for so long a time, pray come to +us. The pleasure to me would be very great, and I hope +that you have some of that feeling, which with me is so +strong, that we ought not to be any longer personally +strangers to each other. You could then make up your mind +as to what you would choose to do afterwards. I think that +by the end of that time,—that is, when William +returns,—my uncle and aunt from Sleaford will be with us. +He is a clergyman, you know; and if you then like to +remain, they will be delighted to make your acquaintance.</p> + +<p>It seems to be a long journey for a young lady to make +alone, from Belton to Plaistow; but travelling is so easy +now-a-days, and young ladies seem to be so independent, +that you may be able to manage it. Hoping to see you soon, +I remain</p> + +<p class="ind12">Your affectionate Cousin,</p> + +<p class="ind18"><span class="smallcaps">Mary Belton</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This letter she received before breakfast, and was therefore able to +read it in solitude, and to keep its receipt from the knowledge of +Mrs. Askerton, if she should be so minded. She understood at once all +that it intended to convey,—a hint that Plaistow Hall would be a +better resting place for her than Mrs. Askerton's cottage; and an +assurance that if she would go to Plaistow Hall for her convenience, +no advantage should be taken of her presence there by the owner of +the house for his convenience. As she sat thinking of the offer which +had been made to her she fancied that she could see and hear her +cousin Will as he discussed the matter with his sister, and with a +half assumption of surliness declared his own intention of going +away. Captain Aylmer after that interview in London had spoken of +Belton's conduct as being unpardonable; but Clara had not only +pardoned him, but had, in her own mind, pronounced his virtues to be +so much greater than his vices as to make him almost perfect. "But I +will not drive him out of his own house," she said. "What does it +matter where I go?"</p> + +<p>"Colonel Askerton has had a letter from your cousin," said Mrs. +Askerton as soon as the two ladies were alone together.</p> + +<p>"And what does he say?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word about you."</p> + +<p>"So much the better. I have given him trouble enough, and am glad to +think that he should be free of me for awhile. Is Colonel Askerton to +stay at the cottage?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Clara, you are a hypocrite. You know that you are a hypocrite."</p> + +<p>"Very likely,—but I don't know why you should accuse me just now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do. Have not you heard from Norfolk also?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I have."</p> + +<p>"I was sure of it. I knew he would never have written in that way, in +answer to my letter, ignoring your visit here altogether, unless he +had written to you also."</p> + +<p>"But he has not written to me. My letter is from his sister. There it +is." Whereupon she handed the letter to Mrs. Askerton, and waited +patiently while it was being read. Her friend returned it to her +without a word, and Clara was the first to speak again. "It is a nice +letter, is it not? I never saw her you know."</p> + +<p>"So she says."</p> + +<p>"But is it not a kind letter?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is meant for kindness. It is not very complimentary to +me. It presumes that such a one as I may be treated without the +slightest consideration. And so I may. It is only fit that I should +be so treated. If you ask my advice, I advise you to go at once;—at +once."</p> + +<p>"But I have not asked your advice, dear; nor do I intend to ask it."</p> + +<p>"You would not have shown it me if you had not intended to go."</p> + +<p>"How unreasonable you are! You told me just now that I was a +hypocrite for not telling you of my letter, and now you are angry +with me because I have shown it you."</p> + +<p>"I am not angry. I think you have been quite right to show it me. I +don't know how else you could have acted upon it."</p> + +<p>"But I do not mean to act upon it. I shall not go to Plaistow. There +are two reasons against it, each sufficient. I shall not leave you +just yet,—unless you send me away; and I shall not cause my cousin +to be turned out of his own house."</p> + +<p>"Why should he be turned out? Why should you not go to him? You love +him;—and as for him, he is more in love than any man I ever knew. Go +to Plaistow Hall, and everything will run smooth."</p> + +<p>"No, dear; I shall not do that."</p> + +<p>"Then you are foolish. I am bound to tell you so, as I have inveigled +you here."</p> + +<p>"I thought I had invited myself."</p> + +<p>"No; I asked you to come, and when I asked you I knew that I was +wrong. Though I meant to be kind, I knew that I was unkind. I saw +that my husband disapproved it, though he had not the heart to tell +me so. I wish he had. I wish he had."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Askerton, I cannot tell you how much you wrong yourself, and +how you wrong me also. I am more than contented to be here."</p> + +<p>"But you should not be contented to be here. It is just that. In +learning to love me,—or rather, perhaps, to pity me, you lower +yourself. Do you think that I do not see it all, and know it all? Of +course it is bad to be alone, but I have no right not to be alone." +There was nothing for Clara to do but to draw herself once again +close to the poor woman, and to embrace her with protestations of +fair, honest, equal regard and friendship. "Do you think I do not +understand that letter?" continued Mrs. Askerton. "If it had come +from Lady Aylmer I could have laughed at it, because I believe Lady +Aylmer to be an overbearing virago, whom it is good to put down in +every way possible. But this comes from a pure-minded woman, one whom +I believe to be little given to harsh judgments on her +fellow-sinners; and she tells you, in her calm wise way, that it is +bad for you to be here with me."</p> + +<p>"She says nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"But does she not mean it? Tell me honestly;—do you not know that +she means it?"</p> + +<p>"I am not to be guided by what she means."</p> + +<p>"But you are to be guided by what her brother means. It is to come to +that, and you may as well bend your neck at once. It is to come to +that, and the sooner the better for you. It is easy to see that you +are badly off for guidance when you take up me as your friend." When +she had so spoken Mrs. Askerton got up and went to the door. "No, +Clara, do not come with me; not now," she said, turning to her +companion, who had risen as though to follow her. "I will come to you +soon, but I would rather be alone now. And, look here, dear; you must +answer your cousin's letter. Do so at once, and say that you will go +to Plaistow. In any event it will be better for you."</p> + +<p>Clara, when she was alone, did answer her cousin's letter, but she +did not accept the invitation that had been given her. She assured +Miss Belton that she was most anxious to know her, and hoped that she +might do so before long, either at Plaistow or at Belton; but that at +present she was under an engagement to stay with her friend Mrs. +Askerton. In an hour or two Mrs. Askerton returned, and Clara handed +to her the note to read. "Then all I can say is you are very silly, +and don't know on which side your bread is buttered." It was evident +from Mrs. Askerton's voice that she had recovered her mood and tone +of mind. "I don't suppose it will much signify, as it will all come +right at last," she said afterwards. And then, after luncheon, when +she had been for a few minutes with her husband in his own room, she +told Clara that the Colonel wanted to speak to her. "You'll find him +as grave as a judge, for he has got something to say to you in +earnest. Nobody can be so stern as he is when he chooses to put on +his wig and gown." So Clara went into the Colonel's study, and seated +herself in a chair which he had prepared for her.</p> + +<p>She remained there for over an hour, and during the hour the +conversation became very animated. Colonel Askerton's assumed gravity +had given way to ordinary eagerness, during which he had walked about +the room in the vehemence of his argument; and Clara, in answering +him, had also put forth all her strength. She had expected that he +also was going to speak to her on the propriety of her going to +Norfolk; but he made no allusion to that subject, although all that +he did say was founded on Will Belton's letter to himself. Belton, in +speaking of the cottage, had told Colonel Askerton that Miss Amedroz +would be his future landlord, and had then gone on to explain that it +was his, Belton's, intention to destroy the entail, and allow the +property to descend from the father to the daughter. "As Miss Amedroz +is with you now," he said, "may I beg you to take the trouble to +explain the matter to her at length, and to make her understand that +the estate is now, at this moment, in fact her own. Her possession of +it does not depend on any act of hers,—or, indeed, upon her own will +or wish in the matter." On this subject Colonel Askerton had argued, +using all his skill to make Clara in truth perceive that she was her +father's heiress,—through the generosity undoubtedly of her +cousin,—and that she had no alternative but to assume the possession +which was thus thrust upon her.</p> + +<p>And so eloquent was the Colonel that Clara was staggered, though she +was not convinced. "It is quite impossible," she said. "Though he may +be able to make it over to me, I can give it back again."</p> + +<p>"I think not. In such a matter as this a lady in your position can +only be guided by her natural advisers,—her father's lawyer and +other family friends."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why a young lady should be in any way different from an +old gentleman."</p> + +<p>"But an old gentleman would not hesitate under such circumstances. +The entail in itself was a cruelty, and the operation of it on your +poor brother's death was additionally cruel."</p> + +<p>"It is cruel that any one should be poor," argued Clara; "but that +does not take away the right of a rich man to his property."</p> + +<p>There was much more of this sort said between them, till Clara was at +any rate convinced that Colonel Askerton believed that she ought to +be the owner of the property. And then at last he ventured upon +another argument which soon drove Clara out of the room. "There is, I +believe, one way in which it can all be made right," said he.</p> + +<p>"What way?" said Clara, forgetting in her eagerness the obviousness +of the mode which her companion was about to point out.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I know nothing of this myself," he said smiling; "but +Mary thinks that you and your cousin might arrange it between you if +you were together."</p> + +<p>"You must not listen to what she says about that, Colonel Askerton."</p> + +<p>"Must I not? Well; I will not listen to more than I can help; but +Mary, as you know, is a persistent talker. I, at any rate, have done +my commission." Then Clara left him and was alone for what remained +of the afternoon.</p> + +<p>It could not be, she said to herself, that the property ought to be +hers. It would make her miserable, were she once to feel that she had +accepted it. Some small allowance out of it, coming to her from the +brotherly love of her cousin,—some moderate stipend sufficient for +her livelihood, she thought she could accept from him. It seemed to +her that it was her destiny to be dependent on charity,—to eat bread +given to her from the benevolence of a friend; and she thought that +she could endure his benevolence better than that of any other. +Benevolence from Aylmer Park or from Perivale would be altogether +unendurable.</p> + +<p>But why should it not be as Colonel Askerton had proposed? That this +cousin of hers loved her with all his heart,—with a constancy for +which she had at first given him no credit, she was well aware. And, +as regarded herself, she loved him better than all the world beside. +She had at last become conscious that she could not now marry Captain +Aylmer without sin,—without false vows, and fatal injury to herself +and him. To the prospect of that marriage, as her future fate, an end +must be put at any rate,—an end, if that which had already taken +place was not to be regarded as end enough. But yet she had been +engaged to Captain Aylmer,—was engaged to him even now. When last +her cousin had mentioned to her Captain Aylmer's name she had +declared that she loved him still. How then could she turn round now, +and so soon accept the love of another man? How could she bring +herself to let her cousin assume to himself the place of a lover, +when it was but the other day that she had rebuked him for expressing +the faintest hope in that direction?</p> + +<p>But yet,—yet—! As for going to Plaistow, that was quite out of the +question.</p> + +<p>"So you are to be the heiress after all," said Mrs. Askerton to her +that night in her bedroom.</p> + +<p>"No; I am not to be the heiress after all," said Clara, rising +against her friend impetuously.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to be lady of Belton in one way or the other at any +rate," said Mrs. Askerton.</p> + + +<p><a name="c28" id="c28"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3> +<h4>MISS AMEDROZ IS PURSUED.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>"I suppose now, my dear, it may be considered that everything is +settled about that young lady," said Lady Aylmer to her son, on the +same day that Miss Amedroz left Aylmer Park.</p> + +<p>"Nothing is settled, ma'am," said the Captain.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to tell me that after what has passed you intend to +follow her up any further."</p> + +<p>"I shall certainly endeavour to see her again."</p> + +<p>"Then, Frederic, I must tell you that you are very wrong +indeed;—almost worse than wrong. I would say wicked, only I feel +sure that you will think better of it. You cannot mean to tell me +that you would—marry her after what has taken place?"</p> + +<p>"The question is whether she would marry me."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense, Frederic. I wonder that you, who are generally so +clear-sighted, cannot see more plainly than that. She is a scheming, +artful young woman, who is playing a regular game to catch a +husband."</p> + +<p>"If that were so, she would have been more humble to you, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit, Fred. That's just it. That has been her cleverness. She +tried that on at first, and found that she could not get round me. +Don't allow yourself to be deceived by that, I pray. And then there +is no knowing how she may be bound up with those horrid people, so +that she cannot throw them over, even if she would."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you understand her, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Oh;—very well. But I understand this, and you had better understand +it too;—that she will never again enter a house of which I am the +mistress; nor can I ever enter a house in which she is received. If +you choose to make her your wife after that, I have done." Lady +Aylmer had not done, or nearly done; but we need hear no more of her +threats or entreaties. Her son left Aylmer Park immediately after +Easter Sunday, and as he went, the mother, nodding her head, declared +to her daughter that that marriage would never come off, let Clara +Amedroz be ever so sly, or ever so clever.</p> + +<p>"Think of what I have said to you, Fred," said Sir Anthony, as he +took his leave of his son.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I will."</p> + +<p>"You can't be better off than you are;—you can't, indeed." With +these words in his ears Captain Aylmer started for London, intending +to follow Clara down to Belton. He hardly knew his own mind on this +matter of his purposed marriage. He was almost inclined to agree with +his father that he was very well off as he was. He was almost +inclined to agree with his mother in her condemnation of Clara's +conduct. He was almost inclined to think that he had done enough +towards keeping the promise made to his aunt on her deathbed,—but +still he was not quite contented with himself. He desired to be +honest and true, as far as his ideas went of honesty and truth, and +his conscience told him that Clara had been treated with cruelty by +his mother. I am inclined to think that Lady Aylmer, in spite of her +high experience and character for wisdom, had not fought her battle +altogether well. No man likes to be talked out of his marriage by his +mother, and especially not so when the talking takes the shape of +threats. When she told him that under no circumstances would she +again know Clara Amedroz, he was driven by his spirit of manhood to +declare to himself that that menace from her should not have the +slightest influence on him. The word or two which his father said was +more effective. After all it might be better for him in his peculiar +position to have no wife at all. He did begin to believe that he had +no need for a wife. He had never before thought so much of his +father's example as he did now. Clara was manifestly a hot-tempered +woman,—a very hot-tempered woman indeed! Now his mother was also a +hot-tempered woman, and he could see the result in the present +condition of his father's life. He resolved that he would follow +Clara to Belton, so that some final settlement might be made between +them; but in coming to this resolution he acknowledged to himself +that should she decide against him he would not break his heart. She, +however, should have her chance. Undoubtedly it was only right that +she should have her chance.</p> + +<p>But the difficulty of the circumstances in which he was placed was so +great, that it was almost impossible for him to make up his mind +fixedly to any purpose in reference to Clara. As he passed through +London on his way to Belton he called at Mr. Green's chambers with +reference to that sum of fifteen hundred pounds, which it was now +absolutely necessary that he should make over to Miss Amedroz, and +from Mr. Green he learned that William Belton had given positive +instructions as to the destination of the Belton estate. He would not +inherit it, or have anything to do with it under the entail,—from +the effects of which he desired to be made entirely free. Mr. Green, +who knew that Captain Aylmer was engaged to marry his client, and who +knew nothing of any interruption to that agreement, felt no +hesitation in explaining all this to Captain Aylmer. "I suppose you +had heard of it before," said Mr. Green. Captain Aylmer certainly had +heard of it, and had been very much struck by the idea; but up to +this moment he had not quite believed in it. Coming simply from +William Belton to Clara Amedroz, such an offer might be no more than +a strong argument used in love-making. "Take back the property, but +take me with it, of course." That Captain Aylmer thought might have +been the correct translation of Mr. William Belton's romance. But he +was forced to look at the matter differently when he found that it +had been put into a lawyer's hands. "Yes," said he, "I have heard of +it. Mr. Belton mentioned it to me himself." This was not strictly +true. Clara had mentioned it to him; but Belton had come into the +room immediately afterwards, and Captain Aylmer might probably have +been mistaken.</p> + +<p>"He's quite in earnest," said Mr. Green.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I can say nothing, Mr. Green, as I am myself so nearly +interested in the matter. It is a great question, no doubt, how far +such an entail as that should be allowed to operate."</p> + +<p>"I think it should stand, as a matter of course. I think Belton is +wrong," said Mr. Green.</p> + +<p>"Of course I can give no opinion," said the other.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what you can do, Captain Aylmer. You can suggest to +Miss Amedroz that there should be a compromise. Let them divide it. +They are both clients of mine, and in that way I shall do my duty to +each. Let them divide it. Belton has money enough to buy up the other +moiety, and in that way would still be Belton of Belton."</p> + +<p>Captain Aylmer had not the slightest objection to such a plan. +Indeed, he regarded it as in all respects a wise and salutary +arrangement. The moiety of the Belton estate might probably be worth +twenty-five thousand pounds, and the addition of such a sum as that +to his existing means would make all the difference in the world as +to the expediency of his marriage. His father's arguments would all +fall to the ground if twenty-five thousand pounds were to be obtained +in this way; and he had but little doubt that such a change in +affairs would go far to mitigate his mother's wrath. But he was by no +means mercenary in his views;—so, at least, he assured himself. +Clara should have her chance with or without the Belton estate,—or +with or without the half of it. He was by no means mercenary. Had he +not made his offer to her,—and repeated it almost with obstinacy, +when she had no prospect of any fortune? He could always remember +that of himself at least; and remembering that now, he could take a +delight in these bright money prospects without having to accuse +himself in the slightest degree of mercenary motives. This fortune +was a godsend which he could take with clean hands;—if only he +should ultimately be able to take the lady who possessed the fortune!</p> + +<p>From London he wrote to Clara, telling her that he proposed to visit +her at Belton. His letter was written before he had seen Mr. Green, +and was not very fervent in its expressions; but, nevertheless, it +was a fair letter, written with the intention of giving her a fair +chance. He had seen with great sorrow,—"with heartfelt grief," that +quarrel between his mother and his own Clara. Thinking, as he felt +himself obliged to think, about Mrs. Askerton, he could not but feel +that his mother had cause for her anger. But he himself was +unprejudiced, and was ready, and anxious also,—the word anxious was +underscored,—to carry out his engagement. A few words between them +might probably set everything right, and therefore he proposed to +meet her at the Belton Castle house, at such an hour, on such a day. +He should run down to Perivale on his journey, and perhaps Clara +would let him have a line addressed to him there. Such was his +letter.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of that?" said Clara, showing it to Mrs. Askerton +on the afternoon of the day on which she had received it.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of it?" said Mrs. Askerton. "I can only hope, that +he will not come within the reach of my hands."</p> + +<p>"You are not angry with me for showing it to you?"</p> + +<p>"No;—why should I be angry with you? Of course I knew it all without +any showing. Do not tell Colonel Askerton, or they will be killing +each other."</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall not tell Colonel Askerton; but I could not help +showing this to you."</p> + +<p>"And you will meet him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I shall meet him. What else can I do?"</p> + +<p>"Unless, indeed, you were to write and tell him that it would do no +good."</p> + +<p>"It will be better that he should come."</p> + +<p>"If you allow him to talk you over you will be a wretched woman all +your life."</p> + +<p>"It will be better that he should come," said Clara again. And then +she wrote to Captain Aylmer at Perivale, telling him that she would +be at the house at the hour he had named, on the day he had named.</p> + +<p>When that day came she walked across the park a little before the +time fixed, not wishing to meet Captain Aylmer before she had reached +the house. It was now nearly the middle of April, and the weather was +soft and pleasant. It was almost summer again, and as she felt this, +she thought of all the events which had occurred since the last +summer,—of their agony of grief at the catastrophe which had closed +her brother's life, of her aunt's death first, and then of her +father's following so close upon the other, and of the two offers of +marriage made to her,—as to which she was now aware that she had +accepted the wrong man and rejected the wrong man. She was steadily +minded, now, at this moment, that before she parted from Captain +Aylmer, her engagement with him should be brought to a close. Now, at +this coming interview, so much at any rate should be done. She had +tried to make herself believe that she felt for him that sort of +affection which a woman should have for the man she is to marry, but +she had failed. She hardly knew whether she had in truth ever loved +him; but she was quite sure that she did not love him now. No;—she +had done with Aylmer Park, and she could feel thankful, amidst all +her troubles, that that difficulty should vex her no more. In showing +Captain Aylmer's letter to Mrs. Askerton she had made no such promise +as this, but her mind had been quite made up. "He certainly shall not +talk me over," she said to herself as she walked across the park.</p> + +<p>But she could not see her way so clearly out of that further +difficulty with regard to her cousin. It might be that she would be +able to rid herself of the one lover with comparative ease; but she +could not bring herself to entertain the idea of accepting the other. +It was true that this man longed for her,—desired to call her his +own, with a wearing, anxious, painful desire which made his heart +grievously heavy,—heavy as though with lead hanging to its strings; +and it was true that Clara knew that it was so. It was true also that +his spirit had mastered her spirit, and that his persistence had +conquered her resistance,—the resistance, that is, of her feelings. +But there remained with her a feminine shame, which made it seem to +her to be impossible that she should now reject Captain Aylmer, and +as a consequence of that rejection, accept Will Belton's hand. As she +thought of this, she could not see her way out of her trouble in that +direction with any of that clearness which belonged to her in +reference to Captain Aylmer.</p> + +<p>She had been an hour in the house before he came, and never did an +hour go so heavily with her. There was no employment for her about +the place, and Mrs. Bunce, the old woman who now lived there, could +not understand why her late mistress chose to remain seated among the +unused furniture. Clara had of course told her that a gentleman was +coming. "Not Mr. Will?" said the woman. "No; it is not Mr. Will," +said Clara; "his name is Captain Aylmer." "Oh, indeed." And then Mrs. +Bunce looked at her with a mystified look. Why on earth should not +the gentleman call on Miss Amedroz at Mrs. Askerton's cottage. "I'll +be sure to show 'un up, when a comes, at any rate," said the old +woman solemnly;—and Clara felt that it was all very uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>At last the gentleman did come, and was shown up with all the +ceremony of which Mrs. Bunce was capable. "Here he be, mum." Then +Mrs. Bunce paused a moment before she retreated, anxious to learn +whether the new comer was a friend or a foe. She concluded from the +Captain's manner that he was a very dear friend, and then she +departed.</p> + +<p>"I hope you are not surprised at my coming," said Captain Aylmer, +still holding Clara by the hand.</p> + +<p>"A little surprised," she said, smiling.</p> + +<p>"But not annoyed?"</p> + +<p>"No;—not annoyed."</p> + +<p>"As soon as you had left Aylmer Park I felt that it was the right +thing to do;—the only thing to do,—as I told my mother."</p> + +<p>"I hope you have not come in opposition to her wishes," said Clara, +unable to control a slight tone of banter as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"In this matter I found myself compelled to act in accordance with my +own judgment," said he, untouched by her sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose that Lady Aylmer is,—is vexed with you for coming +here. I shall be so sorry for that;—so very sorry, as no good can +come of it."</p> + +<p>"Well;—I am not so sure of that. My mother is a most excellent +woman, one for whose opinions on all matters I have the highest +possible value;—a value so high, +that—that—<span class="nowrap">that—"</span></p> + +<p>"That you never ought to act in opposition to it. That is what you +really mean, Captain Aylmer; and upon my word I think that you are +right."</p> + +<p>"No, Clara; that is not what I mean,—not exactly that. Indeed, just +at present I mean the reverse of that. There are some things on which +a man must act on his own judgment, irrespectively of the opinions of +any one else."</p> + +<p>"Not of a mother, Captain Aylmer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—of a mother. That is to say, a man must do so. With a lady of +course it is different. I was very, very sorry that there should have +been any unpleasantness at Aylmer Park."</p> + +<p>"It was not pleasant to me, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Nor to any of us, Clara."</p> + +<p>"At any rate, it need not be repeated."</p> + +<p>"I hope not."</p> + +<p>"No;—it certainty need not be repeated. I know now that I was wrong +to go to Aylmer Park. I felt sure beforehand that there were many +things as to which I could not possibly agree with Lady Aylmer, and I +ought not to have gone."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that at all, Clara."</p> + +<p>"I do see it now."</p> + +<p>"I can't understand you. What things? Why should you be determined to +disagree with my mother? Surely you ought at any rate to endeavour to +think as she thinks."</p> + +<p>"I cannot do that, Captain Aylmer."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear you speak in this way. I have come here all the +way from Yorkshire to try to put things straight between us; but you +receive me as though you would remember nothing but that unpleasant +quarrel."</p> + +<p>"It was so unpleasant,—so very unpleasant! I had better speak out +the truth at once. I think that Lady Aylmer ill-used me cruelly. I +do. No one can talk me out of that conviction. Of course I am sorry +to be driven to say as much to you,—and I should never have said it, +had you not come here. But when you speak of me and your mother +together, I must say what I feel. Your mother and I, Captain Aylmer, +are so opposed to each other, not only in feeling, but in opinions +also, that it is impossible that we should be friends;—impossible +that we should not be enemies if we are brought together."</p> + +<p>This she said with great energy, looking intently into his face as +she spoke. He was seated near her, on a chair from which he was +leaning over towards her, holding his hat in both hands between his +legs. Now, as he listened to her, he drew his chair still nearer, +ridding himself of his hat, which he left upon the carpet, and +keeping his eyes upon hers as though he were fascinated. "I am sorry +to hear you speak like this," he said.</p> + +<p>"It is best to say the truth."</p> + +<p>"But, Clara, if you intend to be my wife—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no;—that is impossible now."</p> + +<p>"What is impossible?"</p> + +<p>"Impossible that I should become your wife. Indeed I have convinced +myself that you do not wish it."</p> + +<p>"But I do wish it."</p> + +<p>"No;—no. If you will question your heart about it quietly, you will +find that you do not wish it."</p> + +<p>"You wrong me, Clara."</p> + +<p>"At any rate it cannot be so."</p> + +<p>"I will not take that answer from you," he said, getting up from his +chair, and walking once up and down the room. Then he returned to it, +and repeated his words. "I will not take that answer from you. An +engagement such as ours cannot be put aside like an old glove. You do +not mean to tell me that all that has been between us is to mean +nothing." There was something now like feeling in his tone, something +like passion in his gesture, and Clara, though she had no thought of +changing her purpose, was becoming unhappy at the idea of his +unhappiness.</p> + +<p>"It has meant nothing," she said. "We have been like children +together, playing at being in love. It is a game from which you will +come out scatheless, but I have been scalded."</p> + +<p>"Scalded!"</p> + +<p>"Well;—never mind. I do not mean to complain, and certainly not of +you."</p> + +<p>"I have come here all the way from Yorkshire in order that things may +be put right between us."</p> + +<p>"You have been very good,—very good to come, and I will not say that +I regret your trouble. It is best, I think, that we should meet each +other once more face to face, so that we may understand each other. +There was no understanding anything during those terrible days at +Aylmer Park." Then she paused, but as he did not speak at once she +went on. "I do not blame you for anything that has taken place, but I +am quite sure of this,—that you and I could never be happy together +as man and wife."</p> + +<p>"I do not know why you say so; I do not indeed."</p> + +<p>"You would disapprove of everything that I should do. You do +disapprove of what I am doing now."</p> + +<p>"Disapprove of what?"</p> + +<p>"I am staying with my friend, Mrs. Askerton."</p> + +<p>He felt that this was hard upon him. As she had shown herself +inclined to withdraw herself from him, he had become more resolute in +his desire to follow her up, and to hold by his engagement. He was +not employed now in giving her another chance,—as he had proposed to +himself to do,—but was using what eloquence he had to obtain another +chance for himself. Lady Aylmer had almost made him believe that +Clara would be the suppliant, but now he was the suppliant himself. +In his anxiety to keep her he was willing even to pass over her +terrible iniquity in regard to Mrs. Askerton,—that great sin which +had led to all these troubles. He had once written to her about Mrs. +Askerton, using very strong language, and threatening her with his +mother's full displeasure. At that time Mrs. Askerton had simply been +her friend. There had been no question then of her taking refuge +under that woman's roof. Now she had repelled Lady Aylmer's counsels +with scorn, was living as a guest in Mrs. Askerton's house; and yet +he was willing to pass over the Askerton difficulty without a word. +He was willing not only to condone past offences, but to wink at +existing iniquity! But she,—she who was the sinner, would not permit +of this. She herself dragged up Mrs. Askerton's name, and seemed to +glory in her own shame.</p> + +<p>"I had not intended," said he, "to speak of your friend."</p> + +<p>"I only mention her to show how impossible it is that we should ever +agree upon some subjects,—as to which a husband and wife should +always be of one mind. I knew this from the moment in which I got +your letter,—and only that I was a coward I should have said so +then."</p> + +<p>"And you mean to quarrel with me altogether?"</p> + +<p>"No;—why should we quarrel?"</p> + +<p>"Why, indeed?" said he.</p> + +<p>"But I wish it to be settled,—quite settled, as from the nature of +things it must be, that there shall be no attempt at renewal of our +engagement. After what has passed, how could I enter your mother's +house?"</p> + +<p>"But you need not enter it." Now in his emergency he was willing to +give up anything,—everything. He had been prepared to talk her over +into a reconciliation with his mother, to admit that there had been +faults on both sides, to come down from his high pedestal and discuss +the matter as though Clara and his mother stood upon the same +footing. Having recognised the spirit of his lady-love, he had told +himself that so much indignity as that must be endured. But now, he +had been carried so far beyond this, that he was willing, in the +sudden vehemence of his love, to throw his mother over altogether, +and to accede to any terms which Clara might propose to him. "Of +course, I would wish you to be friends," he said, using now all the +tones of a suppliant; "but if you found that it could not be +<span class="nowrap">so—"</span></p> + +<p>"Do you think that I would divide you from your mother?"</p> + +<p>"There need be no question as to that."</p> + +<p>"Ah;—there you are wrong. There must be such questions. I should +have thought of it sooner."</p> + +<p>"Clara, you are more to me than my mother. Ten times more." As he +said this he came up and knelt down beside her. "You are everything +to me. You will not throw me over." He was a suppliant indeed, and +such supplications are very potent with women. Men succeed often by +the simple earnestness of their prayers. Women cannot refuse to give +that which is asked for with so much of the vehemence of true desire. +"Clara, you have promised to be my wife. You have twice promised; and +can have no right to go back because you are displeased with what my +mother may have said. I am not responsible for my mother. Clara, say +that you will be my wife." As he spoke he strove to take her hand, +and his voice sounded as though there were in truth something of +passion in his heart.</p> + + +<p><a name="c29" id="c29"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3> +<h4>THERE IS NOTHING TO TELL.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Captain Aylmer had never before this knelt to Clara Amedroz. Such +kneeling on the part of lovers used to be the fashion because lovers +in those days held in higher value than they do now that which they +asked their ladies to give,—or because they pretended to do so. The +forms at least of supplication were used; whereas in these wiser days +Augustus simply suggests to Caroline that they two might as well make +fools of themselves together,—and so the thing is settled without +the need of much prayer. Captain Aylmer's engagement had been +originally made somewhat after this fashion. He had not, indeed, +spoken of the thing contemplated as a folly, not being a man given to +little waggeries of that nature; but he had been calm, +unenthusiastic, and reasonable. He had not attempted to evince any +passion, and would have been quite content that Clara should believe +that he married as much from obedience to his aunt as from love for +herself, had he not found that Clara would not take him at all under +such a conviction. But though she had declined to come to him after +that fashion,—though something more than that had been +needed,—still she had been won easily, and, therefore, lightly +prized. I fear that it is so with everything that we value,—with our +horses, our houses, our wines, and, above all, with our women. Where +is the man who has heart and soul big enough to love a woman with +increased force of passion because she has at once recognised in him +all that she has herself desired? Captain Aylmer having won his spurs +easily, had taken no care in buckling them, and now found, to his +surprise, that he was like to lose them. He had told himself that he +would only be too glad to shuffle his feet free of their bondage; but +now that they were going from him, he began to find that they were +very necessary for the road that he was to travel. "Clara," he said, +kneeling by her side, "you are more to me than my mother; ten times +more!"</p> + +<p>This was all new to her. Hitherto, though she had never desired that +he should assume such attitude as this, she had constantly been +unconsciously wounded by his coldness,—by his cold propriety and +unbending self-possession. His cold propriety and unbending +self-possession were gone now, and he was there at her feet. Such an +argument, used at Aylmer Park, would have conquered her,—would have +won her at once, in spite of herself; but now she was minded to be +resolute. She had sworn to herself that she would not peril herself, +or him, by joining herself to a man with whom she had so little +sympathy, and who apparently had none with her. But in what way was +she to answer such a prayer as that which was now made to her? The +man who addressed her was entitled to use all the warmth of an +accepted lover. He only asked for that which had already been given +to him.</p> + +<p>"Captain Aylmer—," she began.</p> + +<p>"Why is it to be Captain Aylmer? What have I done that you should use +me in this way? It was not I who,—who,—made you unhappy at Aylmer +Park."</p> + +<p>"I will not go back to that. It is of no use. Pray get up. It shocks +me to see you in this way."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, then, that it is once more all right between us. Say that, +and I shall be happier than I ever was before;—yes, than I ever was +before. I know how much I love you now, how sore it would be to lose +you. I have been wrong. I had not thought enough of that, but I will +think of it now."</p> + +<p>She found that the task before her was very difficult,—so difficult +that she almost broke down in performing it. It would have been so +easy and, for the moment, so pleasant to have yielded. He had his +hand upon her arm, having attempted to take her hand. In preventing +that she had succeeded, but she could not altogether make herself +free from him without rising. For a moment she had paused,—paused as +though she were about to yield. For a moment, as he looked into her +eyes, he had thought that he would again be victorious. Perhaps there +was something in his glance, some too visible return of triumph to +his eyes, which warned her of her danger. "No!" she said, getting up +and walking away from him; "no!"</p> + +<p>"And what does 'no' mean, Clara?" Then he also rose, and stood +leaning on the table. "Does it mean that you will be forsworn?"</p> + +<p>"It means this,—that I will not come between you and your mother; +that I will not be taken into a family in which I am scorned; that I +will not go to Aylmer Park myself or be the means of preventing you +from going there."</p> + +<p>"There need be no question of Aylmer Park."</p> + +<p>"There shall be none!"</p> + +<p>"But, so much being allowed, you will be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"No, Captain Aylmer;—no. I cannot be your wife. Do not press it +further; you must know that on such a subject I would think much +before I answered you. I have thought much, and I know that I am +right."</p> + +<p>"And your promised word is to go for nothing?"</p> + +<p>"If it will comfort you to say so, you may say it. If you do not +perceive that the mistake made between us has been as much your +mistake as mine, and has injured me more than it has injured you, I +will not remind you of it,—will never remind you of it after this."</p> + +<p>"But there has been no mistake,—and there shall be no injury."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Captain Aylmer! you do not understand; you cannot understand. I +would not for worlds reproach you; but do you think I suffered +nothing from your mother?"</p> + +<p>"And must I pay for her sins?"</p> + +<p>"There shall be no paying, no punishment, and no reproaches. There +shall be none at least from me. But,—do not think that I speak in +anger or in pride,—I will not marry into Lady Aylmer's family."</p> + +<p>"This is too bad,—too bad! After all that is past, it is too bad!"</p> + +<p>"What can I say? Would you advise me to do that which would make us +both wretched?"</p> + +<p>"It would not make me wretched. It would make me happy. It would +satisfy me altogether."</p> + +<p>"It cannot be, Captain Aylmer. It cannot be. When I speak to you in +that way, will you not let it be final?"</p> + +<p>He paused a moment before he spoke again, and then he turned sharp +upon her. "Tell me this, Clara; do you love me? Have you ever loved +me?" She did not answer him, but stood there, listening quietly to +his accusations. "You have never loved me, and yet you have allowed +yourself to say that you did. Is not that true?" Still she did not +answer. "I ask you whether that is not true?" But though he asked +her, and paused for an answer, looking the while full into her face, +yet she did not speak. "And now I suppose you will become your +cousin's wife?" he said. "It will suit you to change, and to say that +you love him."</p> + +<p>Then at last she spoke. "I did not think that you would have treated +me in this way, Captain Aylmer! I did not expect that you would +insult me!"</p> + +<p>"I have not insulted you."</p> + +<p>"But your manner to me makes my task easier than I could have hoped +it to be. You asked me whether I ever loved you? I once thought that +I did so; and so thinking, told you, without reserve, all my feeling. +When I came to find that I had been mistaken, I conceived myself +bound by my engagement to rectify my own error as best I could; and I +resolved, wrongly,—as I now think, very wrongly,—that I could learn +as your wife to love you. Then came circumstances which showed me +that a release would be good for both of us, and which justified me +in accepting it. No girl could be bound by any engagement to a man +who looked on and saw her treated in his own home, by his own mother, +as you saw me treated at Aylmer Park. I claim to be released myself, +and I know that this release is as good for you as it is for me."</p> + +<p>"I am the best judge of that."</p> + +<p>"For myself at any rate I will judge. For myself I have decided. Now +I have answered the questions which you asked me as to my love for +yourself. To that other question which you have thought fit to put to +me about my cousin, I refuse to give any answer whatsoever." Then, +having said so much, she walked out of the room, closing the door +behind her, and left him standing there alone.</p> + +<p>We need not follow her as she went up, almost mechanically, into her +own room,—the room that used to be her own,—and then shut herself +in, waiting till she should be assured, first by sounds in the house, +and then by silence, that he was gone. That she fell away greatly +from the majesty of her demeanour when she was thus alone, and +descended to the ordinary ways of troubled females, we may be quite +sure. But to her there was no further difficulty. Her work for the +day was done. In due time she would take herself to the cottage, and +all would be well, or, at any rate, comfortable with her. But what +was he to do? How was he to get himself out of the house, and take +himself back to London? While he had been in pursuit of her, and when +he was leaving his vehicle at the public-house in the village of +Belton, he,—like some other invading generals,—had failed to +provide adequately for his retreat. When he was alone he took a turn +or two about the room, half thinking that Clara would return to him. +She could hardly leave him alone in a strange house,—him, who, as he +had twice told her, had come all the way from Yorkshire to see her. +But she did not return, and gradually he came to understand that he +must provide for his own retreat without assistance. He was hardly +aware, even now, how greatly he had transcended his usual modes of +speech and action, both in the energy of his supplication and in the +violence of his rebuke. He had been lifted for awhile out of himself +by the excitement of his position, and now that he was subsiding into +quiescence, he was unconscious that he had almost mounted into +passion,—that he had spoken of love very nearly with eloquence. But +he did recognise this as a fact,—that Clara was not to be his wife, +and that he had better get back from Belton to London as quickly as +possible. It would be well for him to teach himself to look back on +the result of his aunt's dying request as an episode in his life +satisfactorily concluded. His mother had undoubtedly been right. +Clara, he could now see, would have led him a devil of a life; and +even had she come to him possessed of a moiety of the property,—a +supposition as to which he had very strong doubts,—still she might +have been dear at the money. "No real feeling," he said to himself, +as he walked about the room,—"none whatever; and then so deficient +in delicacy!" But still he was discontented,—because he had been +rejected, and therefore tried to make himself believe that he could +still have her if he chose to persevere. "But no," he said, as he +continued to pace the room, "I have done everything,—more than +everything that honour demands. I shall not ask her again. It is her +own fault. She is an imperious woman, and my mother read her +character aright." It did not occur to him, as he thus consoled +himself for what he had lost, that his mother's accusation against +Clara had been altogether of a different nature. When we console +ourselves by our own arguments, we are not apt to examine their +accuracy with much strictness.</p> + +<p>But whether he were consoled or not, it was necessary that he should +go, and in his going he felt himself to be ill-treated. He left the +room, and as he went down-stairs was disturbed and tormented by the +creaking of his own boots. He tried to be dignified as he walked +through the hall, and was troubled at his failure, though he was not +conscious of any one looking at him. Then it was grievous that he +should have to let himself out of the front door without attendance. +At ordinary times he thought as little of such things as most men, +and would not be aware whether he opened a door for himself or had it +opened for him by another;—but now there was a distressing +awkwardness in the necessity for self-exertion. He did not know the +turn of the handle, and was unfamiliar with the manner of exit. He +was being treated with indignity, and before he had escaped from the +house had come to think that the Amedroz and Belton people were +somewhat below him. He endeavoured to go out without a noise, but +there was a slam of the door, without which he could not get the lock +to work; and Clara, up in her own room, knew all about it.</p> + +<p>"Carriage;—yes; of course I want the carriage," he said to the +unfortunate boy at the public-house. "Didn't you hear me say that I +wanted it?" He had come down with a pair of horses, and as he saw +them being put to the vehicle he wished he had been contented with +one. As he was standing there, waiting, a gentleman rode by, and the +boy, in answer to his question, told him that the horseman was +Colonel Askerton. Before the day was over Colonel Askerton would +probably know all that had happened to him. "Do move a little +quicker; will you?" he said to the boy and the old man who was to +drive him. Then he got into the carriage, and was driven out of +Belton, devoutly purposing that he never would return; and as he made +his way back to Perivale he thought of a certain Lady Emily, who +would, as he assured himself, have behaved much better than Clara +Amedroz had done in any such scene as that which had just taken +place.</p> + +<p>When Clara was quite sure that Captain Aylmer was off the premises, +she, too, descended, but she did not immediately leave the house. She +walked through the room, and rang for the old woman, and gave certain +directions,—as to the performance of which she certainly was not +very anxious, and was careful to make Mrs. Bunce understand that +nothing had occurred between her and the gentleman that was either +exalting or depressing in its nature. "I suppose Captain Aylmer went +out, Mrs. Bunce?" "Oh yes, miss, a went out. I stood and see'd un +from the top of the kitchen stairs." "You might have opened the door +for him, Mrs. Bunce." "Indeed then I never thought of it, miss, +seeing the house so empty and the like." Clara said that it did not +signify; and then, after an hour of composure, she walked back across +the park to the cottage.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Mrs. Askerton as soon as Clara was inside the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Well," replied Clara.</p> + +<p>"What have you got to tell? Do tell me what you have to tell."</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to tell."</p> + +<p>"Clara, that is impossible. Have you seen him? I know you have seen +him, because he went by from the house about an hour since."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; I have seen him."</p> + +<p>"And what have you said to him?"</p> + +<p>"Pray do not ask me these questions just now. I have got to think of +it all;—to think what he did say and what I said."</p> + +<p>"But you will tell me."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I suppose so." Then Mrs. Askerton was silent on the subject for +the remainder of the day, allowing Clara even to go to bed without +another question. And nothing was asked on the following +morning,—nothing till the usual time for the writing of letters.</p> + +<p>"Shall you have anything for the post?" said Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>"There is plenty of time yet."</p> + +<p>"Not too much if you mean to go out at all. Come, Clara, you had +better write to him at once."</p> + +<p>"Write to whom? I don't know that I have any letter to write at all." +Then there was a pause. "As far as I can see," she said, "I may give +up writing altogether for the future, unless some day you may care to +hear from me."</p> + +<p>"But you are not going away."</p> + +<p>"Not just yet;—if you will keep me. To tell you the truth, Mrs. +Askerton, I do not yet know where on earth to take myself."</p> + +<p>"Wait here till we turn you out."</p> + +<p>"I have got to put my house in order. You know what I mean. The job +ought not to be a troublesome one, for it is a very small house."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I know what you mean."</p> + +<p>"It will not be a very smart establishment. But I must look it all in +the face; must I not? Though it were to be no house at all, I cannot +stay here all my life."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you may. You have lost Aylmer Park because you were too noble +not to come to us."</p> + +<p>"No," said Clara, speaking aloud, with bright eyes,—almost with her +hands clenched. "No;—I deny that."</p> + +<p>"I shall choose to think so for my own purposes. Clara, you are +savage to me;—almost always savage; but next to him I love you +better than all the world beside. And so does he. 'It's her courage,' +he said to me the other day. 'That she should dare to do as she +pleases here, is nothing; but to have dared to persevere in the fangs +of that old dragon,'—it was just what he said,—'that was +wonderful!'"</p> + +<p>"There is an end of the old dragon now, so far as I am concerned."</p> + +<p>"Of course there is;—and of the young dragon too. You wouldn't have +had the heart to keep me in suspense if you had accepted him again. +You couldn't have been so pleasant last night if that had been so."</p> + +<p>"I did not know I was very pleasant."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you were. You were soft and gracious,—gracious for you, at +least. And now, dear, do tell me about it. Of course I am dying to +know."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to tell."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense. There must be a thousand things to tell. At any +rate it is quite decided?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is quite decided."</p> + +<p>"All the dragons, old and young, are banished into outer darkness."</p> + +<p>"Either that, or else they are to have all the light to themselves."</p> + +<p>"Such light as glimmers through the gloom of Aylmer Park. And was he +contented? I hope not. I hope you had him on his knees before he left +you."</p> + +<p>"Why should you hope that? How can you talk such nonsense?"</p> + +<p>"Because I wish that he should recognise what he has lost;—that he +should know that he has been a fool;—a mean fool."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Askerton, I will not have him spoken of like that. He is a man +very estimable,—of estimable qualities."</p> + +<p>"Fiddle-de-dee. He is an ape,—a monkey to be carried on his mother's +organ. His only good quality was that you could have carried him on +yours. I can tell you one thing;—there is not a woman breathing that +will ever carry William Belton on hers. Whoever his wife may be, she +will have to dance to his piping."</p> + +<p>"With all my heart;—and I hope the tunes will be good."</p> + +<p>"But I wish I could have been present to have heard what +passed;—hidden, you know, behind a curtain. You won't tell me?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you not a word more."</p> + +<p>"Then I will get it out from Mrs. Bunce. I'll be bound she was +listening."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Bunce will have nothing to tell you; I do not know why you +should be so curious."</p> + +<p>"Answer me one question at least:—when it came to the last, did he +want to go on with it? Was the final triumph with him or with you?"</p> + +<p>"There was no final triumph. Such things, when they have to end, do +not end triumphantly."</p> + +<p>"And is that to be all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—that is to be all."</p> + +<p>"And you say that you have no letter to write."</p> + +<p>"None;—no letter; none at present; none about this affair. Captain +Aylmer, no doubt, will write to his mother, and then all those who +are concerned will have been told."</p> + +<p>Clara Amedroz held her purpose and wrote no letter, but Mrs. Askerton +was not so discreet, or so indiscreet, as the case might be. She did +write,—not on that day or on the next, but before a week had passed +by. She wrote to Norfolk, telling Clara not a word of her letter, and +by return of post the answer came. But the answer was for Clara, not +for Mrs. Askerton, and was as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Plaistow Hall, April, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Clara</span>,</p> + +<p>I don't know whether I ought to tell you but I suppose I +may as well tell you, that Mary has had a letter from Mrs. +Askerton. It was a kind, obliging letter, and I am very +grateful to her. She has told us that you have separated +yourself altogether from the Aylmer Park people. I don't +suppose you'll think I ought to pretend to be very sorry. +I can't be sorry, even though I know how much you have +lost in a worldly point of view. I could not bring myself +to like Captain Aylmer, though I tried hard.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">Oh Mr. Belton, Mr. Belton!</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">He and I never could +have been friends, and it is no use +my pretending regret that you have quarrelled with them. +But that, I suppose, is all over, and I will not say a +word more about the Aylmers.</p> + +<p>I am writing now chiefly at Mary's advice, and because she +says that something should be settled about the estate. Of +course it is necessary that you should feel yourself to be +the mistress of your own income, and understand exactly +your own position. Mary says that this should be arranged +at once, so that you may be able to decide how and where +you will live. I therefore write to say that I will have +nothing to do with your father's estate at +Belton;—nothing, that is, for myself. I have written to +Mr. Green to tell him that you are to be considered as the +heir. If you will allow me to undertake the management of +the property as your agent, I shall be delighted. I think +I could do it as well as any one else: and, as we agreed +that we would always be dear and close friends, I think +that you will not refuse me the pleasure of serving you in +this way.</p> + +<p>And now Mary has a proposition to make, as to which she +will write herself to-morrow, but she has permitted me to +speak of it first. If you will accept her as a visitor, +she will go to you at Belton. She thinks, and I think too, +that you ought to know each other. I suppose nothing would +make you come here, at present, and therefore she must go +to you. She thinks that all about the estate would be +settled more comfortably if you two were together. At any +rate, it would be very nice for her,—and I think you +would like my sister Mary. She proposes to start about the +10th of May. I should take her as far as London and see +her off, and she would bring her own maid with her. In +this way she thinks that she would get as far as Taunton +very well. She had, perhaps, better stay there for one +night, but that can all be settled if you will say that +you will receive her at the house.</p> + +<p>I cannot finish my letter without saying one word for +myself. You know what my feelings have been, and I think +you know that they still are, and always must be, the +same. From almost the first moment that I saw you I have +loved you. When you refused me I was very unhappy; but I +thought I might still have a chance, and therefore I +resolved to try again. Then, when I heard that you were +engaged to Captain Aylmer, I was indeed broken-hearted. Of +course I could not be angry with you. I was not angry, but +I was simply broken-hearted. I found that I loved you so +much that I could not make myself happy without you. It +was all of no use, for I knew that you were to be married +to Captain Aylmer. I knew it, or thought that I knew it. +There was nothing to be done,—only I knew that I was +wretched. I suppose it is selfishness, but I felt, and +still feel, that unless I can have you for my wife, I +cannot be happy or care for anything. Now you are free +again,—free, I mean, from Captain Aylmer;—and how is it +possible that I should not again have a hope? Nothing but +your marriage or death could keep me from hoping.</p> + +<p>I don't know much about the Aylmers. I know nothing of +what has made you quarrel with the people at Aylmer +Park;—nor do I want to know. To me you are once more that +Clara Amedroz with whom I used to walk in Belton Park, +with your hand free to be given wherever your heart can go +with it. While it is free I shall always ask for it. I +know that it is in many ways above my reach. I quite +understand that in education and habits of thinking you +are my superior. But nobody can love you better than I do. +I sometimes fancy that nobody could ever love you so well. +Mary thinks that I ought to allow a time to go by before I +say all this again;—but what is the use of keeping it +back? It seems to me to be more honest to tell you at once +that the only thing in the world for which I care one +straw is that you should be my wife.</p> + +<p class="ind12">Your most affectionate Cousin,</p> + +<p class="ind16"><span class="smallcaps">William Belton</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"Miss Belton is coming here, to the castle, in a fortnight," said +Clara that morning at breakfast. Both Colonel Askerton and his wife +were in the room, and she was addressing herself chiefly to the +former.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Miss Belton! And is he coming?" said Colonel Askerton.</p> + +<p>"So you have heard from Plaistow?" said Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—in answer to your letter. No, Colonel Askerton, my cousin +William is not coming. But his sister purposes to be here, and I must +go up to the house and get it ready."</p> + +<p>"That will do when the time comes," said Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>"I did not mean quite immediately."</p> + +<p>"And are you to be her guest, or is she to be yours?" said Colonel +Askerton.</p> + +<p>"It's her brother's home, and therefore I suppose I must be hers. +Indeed it must be so, as I have no means of entertaining any one."</p> + +<p>"Something, no doubt, will be settled," said the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a weary word that is," said Clara; "weary, at least, for a +woman's ears! It sounds of poverty and dependence, and endless +trouble given to others, and all the miseries of female dependence. +If I were a young man I should be allowed to settle for myself."</p> + +<p>"There would be no question about the property in that case," said +the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"And there need be no question now," said Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>When the two women were alone together, Clara, of course, scolded her +friend for having written to Norfolk without letting it be known that +she was doing so;—scolded her, and declared how vain it was for her +to make useless efforts for an unattainable end; but Mrs. Askerton +always managed to slip out of these reproaches, neither asserting +herself to be right, nor owning herself to be wrong. "But you must +answer his letter," she said.</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall do that."</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew what he said."</p> + +<p>"I shan't show it you, if you mean that."</p> + +<p>"All the same I wish I knew what he said."</p> + +<p>Clara, of course, did answer the letter; but she wrote her answer to +Mary, sending, however, one little scrap to Mary's brother. She wrote +to Mary at great length, striving to explain, with long and laborious +arguments, that it was quite impossible that she should accept the +Belton estate from her cousin. That subject, however, and the manner +of her future life, she would discuss with her dear cousin Mary, when +Mary should have arrived. And then Clara said how she would go to +Taunton to meet her cousin, and how she would prepare William's house +for the reception of William's sister; and how she would love her +cousin when she should come to know her. All of which was exceedingly +proper and pretty. Then there was a little postscript, "Give the +enclosed to William." And this was the note to +<span class="nowrap">William:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear William</span>,</p> + +<p>Did you not say that you would be my brother? Be my +brother always. I will accept from your hands all that a +brother could do; and when that arrangement is quite +fixed, I will love you as much as Mary loves you, and +trust you as completely; and I will be obedient, as a +younger sister should be.</p> + +<p class="ind14">Your loving Sister,</p> + +<p class="ind20">C. A.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"It's all no good," said William Belton, as he crunched the note in +his hand. "I might as well shoot myself. Get out of the way there, +will you?" And the injured groom scudded across the farm-yard, +knowing that there was something wrong with his master.</p> + + +<p><a name="c30" id="c30"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXX.</h3> +<h4>MARY BELTON.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It was about the middle of the pleasant month of May when Clara +Amedroz again made that often repeated journey to Taunton, with the +object of meeting Mary Belton. She had transferred herself and her +own peculiar belongings back from the cottage to the house, and had +again established herself there so that she might welcome her new +friend. But she was not satisfied with simply receiving her guest at +Belton, and therefore she made the journey to Taunton, and settled +herself for the night at the inn. She was careful to get a bedroom +for an "invalid lady," close to the sitting-room, and before she went +down to the station she saw that the cloth was laid for tea, and that +the tea parlour had been made to look as pleasant as was possible +with an inn parlour.</p> + +<p>She was very nervous as she stood upon the platform waiting for the +new comer to show herself. She knew that Mary was a cripple, but did +not know how far her cousin was disfigured by her infirmity; and when +she saw a pale-faced little woman, somewhat melancholy, but yet +pretty withal, with soft, clear eyes, and only so much appearance of +a stoop as to soften the hearts of those who saw her, Clara was +agreeably surprised, and felt herself to be suddenly relieved of an +unpleasant weight. She could talk to the woman she saw there, as to +any other woman, without the painful necessity of treating her always +as an invalid. "I think you are Miss Belton?" she said, holding out +her hand. The likeness between Mary and her brother was too great to +allow of Clara being mistaken.</p> + +<p>"And you are Clara Amedroz? It is so good of you to come to meet me!"</p> + +<p>"I thought you would be dull in a strange town by yourself."</p> + +<p>"It will be much nicer to have you with me."</p> + +<p>Then they went together up to the inn; and when they had taken their +bonnets off, Mary Belton kissed her cousin. "You are very nearly what +I fancied you," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Am I? I hope you fancied me to be something that you could like."</p> + +<p>"Something that I could love very dearly. You are a little taller +than what Will said; but then a gentleman is never a judge of a +lady's height. And he said you were thin."</p> + +<p>"I am not very fat."</p> + +<p>"No; not very fat; but neither are you thin. Of course, you know, I +have thought a great deal about you. It seems as though you had come +to be so very near to us; and blood is thicker than water, is it not? +If cousins are not friends, who can be?"</p> + +<p>In the course of that evening they became very confidential together, +and Clara thought that she could love Mary Belton better than any +woman that she had ever known. Of course they were talking about +William, and Clara was at first in constant fear lest some word +should be said on her lover's behalf,—some word which would drive +her to declare that she would not admit him as a lover; but Mary +abstained from the subject with marvellous care and tact. Though she +was talking through the whole evening of her brother, she so spoke of +him as almost to make Clara believe that she could not have heard of +that episode in his life. Mrs. Askerton would have dashed at the +subject at once; but then, as Clara told herself, Mary Belton was +better than Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>A few words were said about the estate, and they originated in +Clara's declaration that Mary would have to be regarded as the +mistress of the house to which they were going. "I cannot agree to +that," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"But the house is William's, you know," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"He says not."</p> + +<p>"But of course that must be nonsense, Mary."</p> + +<p>"It is very evident that you know nothing of Plaistow ways, or you +would not say that anything coming from William was nonsense. We are +accustomed to regard all his words as law, and when he says that a +thing is to be so, it always is so."</p> + +<p>"Then he is a tyrant at home."</p> + +<p>"A beneficent despot. Some despots, you know, always were +beneficent."</p> + +<p>"He won't have his way in this thing."</p> + +<p>"I'll leave you and him to fight about that, my dear. I am so +completely under his thumb that I always obey him in everything. You +must not, therefore, expect to range me on your side."</p> + +<p>The next day they were at Belton Castle, and in a very few hours +Clara felt that she was quite at home with her cousin. On the second +day Mrs. Askerton came up and called,—according to an arrangement to +that effect made between her and Clara. "I'll stay away if you like +it," Mrs. Askerton had said. But Clara had urged her to come, arguing +with her that she was foolish to be thinking always of her own +misfortune. "Of course I am always thinking of it," she had replied, +"and always thinking that other people are thinking of it. Your +cousin, Miss Belton, knows all my history, of course. But what +matters? I believe it would be better that everybody should know it. +I suppose she's very straight-laced and prim." "She is not prim at +all," said Clara. "Well, I'll come," said Mrs. Askerton, "but I shall +not be a bit surprised if I hear that she goes back to Norfolk the +next day."</p> + +<p>So Mrs. Askerton came, and Miss Belton did not go back to Norfolk. +Indeed, at the end of the visit, Mrs. Askerton had almost taught +herself to believe that William Belton had kept his secret, even from +his sister. "She's a dear little woman," Mrs. Askerton afterwards +said to Clara.</p> + +<p>"Is she not?"</p> + +<p>"And so thoroughly like a lady."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I think she is a lady."</p> + +<p>"A princess among ladies! What a pretty little conscious way she has +of asserting herself when she has an opinion and means to stick to +it! I never saw a woman who got more strength out of her weakness. +Who would dare to contradict her?"</p> + +<p>"But then she knows everything so well," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"And how like her brother she is!"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—there is a great family likeness."</p> + +<p>"And in character, too. I'm sure you'd find, if you were to try her, +that she has all his personal firmness, though she can't show it as +he does by kicking out his feet and clenching his fist."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you like her," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I do like her very much."</p> + +<p>"It is so odd,—the way you have changed. You used to speak of him as +though he was merely a clod of a farmer, and of her as a stupid old +maid. Now, nothing is too good to say of them."</p> + +<p>"Exactly, my dear;—and if you do not understand why, you are not so +clever as I take you to be."</p> + +<p>Life went on very pleasantly with them at Belton for two or three +weeks;—but with this drawback as regarded Clara, that she had no +means of knowing what was to be the course of her future life. During +these weeks she twice received letters from her cousin Will, and +answered both of them. But these letters referred to matters of +business which entailed no contradiction,—to certain details of +money due to the estate before the old squire's death, and to that +vexed question of Aunt Winterfield's legacy, which had by this time +drifted into Belton's hands, and as to which he was inclined to act +in accordance with his cousin's wishes, though he was assured by Mr. +Green that the legacy was as good a legacy as had ever been left by +an old woman. "I think," he said in his last letter, "that we shall +be able to throw him over in spite of Mr. Green." Clara, as she read +this, could not but remember that the man to be thrown over was the +man to whom she had been engaged, and she could not but remember also +all the circumstances of the intended legacy,—of her aunt's death, +and of the scenes which had immediately followed her death. It was so +odd that William Belton should now be discussing with her the means +of evading all her aunt's intentions,—and that he should be doing +so, not as her accepted lover. He had, indeed, called himself her +brother, but he was in truth her rejected lover.</p> + +<p>From time to time during these weeks Mrs. Askerton would ask her +whether Mr. Belton was coming to Belton, and Clara would answer her +with perfect truth that she did not believe that he had any such +intention. "But he must come soon," Mrs. Askerton would say. And when +Clara would answer that she knew nothing about it, Mrs. Askerton +would ask further questions about Mary Belton. "Your cousin must know +whether her brother is coming to look after the property?" But Miss +Belton, though she heard constantly from her brother, gave no such +intimation. If he had any intention of coming, she did not speak of +it. During all these days she had not as yet said a word of her +brother's love. Though his name was daily in her mouth,—and +latterly, was frequently mentioned by Clara,—there had been no +allusion to that still enduring hope of which Will Belton himself +could not but speak,—when he had any opportunity of speaking at all. +And this continued till at last Clara was driven to suppose that Mary +Belton knew nothing of her brother's hopes.</p> + +<p>But at last there came a change,—a change which to Clara was as +great as that which had affected her when she first found that her +delightful cousin was not safe against love-making. She had made up +her mind that the sister did not intend to plead for her +brother,—that the sister probably knew nothing of the brother's +necessity for pleading,—that the brother probably had no further +need for pleading! When she remembered his last passionate words, she +could not but accuse herself of hypocrisy when she allowed place in +her thoughts to this latter supposition. He had been so intently +earnest! The nature of the man was so eager and true! But yet, in +spite of all that had been said, of all the fire in his eyes, and +life in his words, and energy in his actions, he had at last seen +that his aspirations were foolish, and his desires vain. It could not +otherwise be that she and Mary should pass these hours in such calm +repose without an allusion to the disturbing subject! After this +fashion, and with such meditations as these, had passed by the last +weeks;—and then at last there came the change.</p> + +<p>"I have had a letter from William this morning," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"And so have not I," said Clara, "and yet I expect to hear from him."</p> + +<p>"He means to be here soon," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"He speaks of being here next week."</p> + +<p>For a moment or two Clara had yielded to the agitation caused by her +cousin's tidings; but with a little gush she recovered her presence +of mind, and was able to speak with all the hypothetical propriety of +a female. "I am glad to hear it," she said. "It is only right that he +should come."</p> + +<p>"He has asked me to say a word to you,—as to the purport of his +journey."</p> + +<p>Then again Clara's courage and hypocrisy were so far subdued that +they were not able to maintain her in a position adequate to the +occasion. "Well," she said laughing, "what is the word? I hope it is +not that I am to pack up, bag and baggage, and take myself elsewhere. +Cousin William is one of those persons who are willing to do +everything except what they are wanted to do. He will go on talking +about the Belton estate, when I want to know whether I may really +look for as much as twelve shillings a week to live upon."</p> + +<p>"He wants me to speak to you about—about the earnest love he bears +for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear! Mary;—could you not suppose it all to be said? It is an +old trouble, and need not be repeated."</p> + +<p>"No," said Mary, "I cannot suppose it to be all said." Clara looking +up as she heard the voice, was astonished both by the fire in the +woman's eye and by the force of her tone. "I will not think so meanly +of you as to believe that such words from such a man can be passed by +as meaning nothing. I will not say that you ought to be able to love +him; in that you cannot control your heart; but if you cannot love +him, the want of such love ought to make you suffer,—to suffer much +and be very sad."</p> + +<p>"I cannot agree to that, Mary."</p> + +<p>"Is all his life nothing, then? Do you know what love means with +him;—this love which he bears to you? Do you understand that it is +everything to him?—that from the first moment in which he +acknowledged to himself that his heart was set upon you, he could not +bring himself to set it upon any other thing for a moment? Perhaps +you have never understood this; have never perceived that he is so +much in earnest, that to him it is more than money, or land, or +health,—more than life itself;—that he so loves that he would +willingly give everything that he has for his love? Have you known +this?"</p> + +<p>Clara would not answer these questions for a while. What if she had +known it all, was she therefore bound to sacrifice herself? Could it +be the duty of any woman to give herself to a man simply because a +man wanted her? That was the argument as it was put forward now by +Mary Belton.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dearest Clara," said Mary Belton, stretching herself forward +from her chair, and putting out her thin, almost transparent, hand, +"I do not think that you have thought enough of this; or, perhaps, +you have not known it. But his love for you is as I say. To him it is +everything. It pervades every hour of every day, every corner in his +life! He knows nothing of anything else while he is in his present +state."</p> + +<p>"He is very good;—more than good."</p> + +<p>"He is very good."</p> + +<p>"But I do not see that;—that— Of course I know how disinterested he +is."</p> + +<p>"Disinterested is a poor word. It insinuates that in such a matter +there could be a question of what people call interest."</p> + +<p>"And I know, too, how much he honours me."</p> + +<p>"Honour is a cold word. It is not honour, but love,—downright true, +honest love. I hope he does honour you. I believe you to be an +honest, true woman; and, as he knows you well, he probably does +honour you;—but I am speaking of love." Again Clara was silent. She +knew what should be her argument if she were determined to oppose her +cousin's pleadings; and she knew also,—she thought she knew,—that +she did intend to oppose them; but there was a coldness in the +argument to which she was averse. "You cannot be insensible to such +love as that!" said Mary, going on with the cause which she had in +hand.</p> + +<p>"You say that he is fond of me."</p> + +<p>"Fond of you! I have not used such trifling expressions as that."</p> + +<p>"That he loves me."</p> + +<p>"You know he loves you. Have you ever doubted a word that he has +spoken to you on any subject?"</p> + +<p>"I believe he speaks truly."</p> + +<p>"You know he speaks truly. He is the very soul of truth."</p> + +<p>"But, Mary—"</p> + +<p>"Well, Clara! But remember; do not answer me lightly. Do not play +with a man's heart because you have it in your power."</p> + +<p>"You wrong me. I could never do like that. You tell me that he loves +me;—but what if I do not love him? Love will not be constrained. Am +I to say that I love him because I believe that he loves me?"</p> + +<p>This was the argument, and Clara found herself driven to use it,—not +so much from its special applicability to herself, as on account of +its general fitness. Whether it did or did not apply to herself she +had no time to ask herself at that moment; but she felt that no man +could have a right to claim a woman's hand on the strength of his own +love,—unless he had been able to win her love. She was arguing on +behalf of women in general rather than on her own behalf.</p> + +<p>"If you mean to tell me that you cannot love him, of course I must +give over," said Mary, not caring at all for men and women in +general, but full of anxiety for her brother. "Do you mean to say +that,—that you can never love him?" It almost seemed, from her face, +that she was determined utterly to quarrel with her new-found +cousin,—to quarrel and to go at once away if she got an answer that +would not please her.</p> + +<p>"Dear Mary, do not press me so hard."</p> + +<p>"But I want to press you hard. It is not right that he should lose +his life in longing and hoping."</p> + +<p>"He will not lose his life, Mary."</p> + +<p>"I hope not;—not if I can help it. I trust that he will be strong +enough to get rid of his trouble,—to put it down and trample it +under his feet." Clara, as she heard this, began to ask herself what +it was that was to be trampled under Will's feet. "I think he will be +man enough to overcome his passion; and then, perhaps,—you may +regret what you have lost."</p> + +<p>"Now you are unkind to me."</p> + +<p>"Well; what would you have me say? Do I not know that he is offering +you the best gift that he can give? Did I not begin by swearing to +you that he loved you with a passion of love that cannot but be +flattering to you? If it is to be love in vain, this to him is a +great misfortune. And, yet, when I say that I hope that he will +recover, you tell me that I am unkind."</p> + +<p>"No;—not for that."</p> + +<p>"May I tell him to come and plead for himself?"</p> + +<p>Again Clara was silent, not knowing how to answer that last question. +And when she did answer it, she answered it thoughtlessly. "Of course +he knows that he can do that."</p> + +<p>"He says that he has been forbidden."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mary, what am I to say to you? You know it all, and I wonder +that you can continue to question me in this way."</p> + +<p>"Know all what?"</p> + +<p>"That I have been engaged to Captain Aylmer."</p> + +<p>"But you are not engaged to him now."</p> + +<p>"No—I am not."</p> + +<p>"And there can be no renewal there, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!"</p> + +<p>"Not even for my brother would I say a word if I +<span class="nowrap">thought—"</span></p> + +<p>"No;—there is nothing of that; +<span class="nowrap">but—.</span> If +you cannot understand, I do +not think that I can explain it." It seemed to Clara that her cousin, +in her anxiety for her brother, did not conceive that a woman, even +if she could suddenly transfer her affections from one man to +another, could not bring herself to say that she had done so.</p> + +<p>"I must write to him to-day," said Mary, "and I must give him some +answer. Shall I tell him that he had better not come here till you +are gone?"</p> + +<p>"That will perhaps be best," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Then he will never come at all."</p> + +<p>"I can go;—can go at once. I will go at once. You shall never have +to say that my presence prevented his coming to his own house. I +ought not to be here. I know it now. I will go away, and you may tell +him that I am gone."</p> + +<p>"No, dear; you will not go."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I must go. I fancied things might be otherwise, because he +once told me that—he—would—be—a brother to me. And I said I would +hold him to that;—not only because I want a brother so badly, but +because I love him so dearly. But it cannot be like that."</p> + +<p>"You do not think that he will ever desert you?"</p> + +<p>"But I will go away, so that he may come to his own house. I ought +not to be here. Of course I ought not to be at Belton,—either in +this house or in any other. Tell him that I will be gone before he +can come, and tell him also that I will not be too proud to accept +from him what it may be fit that he should give me. I have no one but +him;—no one but him;—no one but him." Then she burst into tears, +and throwing back her head, covered her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>Miss Belton, upon this, rose slowly from the chair on which she was +sitting, and making her way painfully across to Clara, stood leaning +on the weeping girl's chair. "You shall not go while I am here," she +said.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I must go. He cannot come till I am gone."</p> + +<p>"Think of it all once again, Clara. May I not tell him to come, and +that while he is coming you will see if you cannot soften your heart +towards him?"</p> + +<p>"Soften my heart! Oh, if I could only harden it!"</p> + +<p>"He would wait. If you would only bid him wait, he would be so happy +in waiting."</p> + +<p>"Yes—till to-morrow morning. I know him. Hold out your little finger +to him, and he has your whole hand and arm in a moment."</p> + +<p>"I want you to say that you will try to love him."</p> + +<p>But Clara was in truth trying not to love him. She was ashamed of +herself because she did love the one man, when, but a few weeks +since, she had confessed that she loved another. She had mistaken +herself and her own feelings, not in reference to her cousin, but in +supposing that she could really have sympathised with such a man as +Captain Aylmer. It was necessary to her self-respect that she should +be punished because of that mistake. She could not save herself from +this condemnation,—she would not grant herself a respite—because, +by doing so, she would make another person happy. Had Captain Aylmer +never crossed her path, she would have given her whole heart to her +cousin. Nay; she had so given it,—had done so, although Captain +Aylmer had crossed her path and come in her way. But it was matter of +shame to her to find that this had been possible, and she could not +bring herself to confess her shame.</p> + +<p>The conversation at last ended, as such conversations always do end, +without any positive decision. Mary wrote of course to her brother, +but Clara was not told of the contents of the letter. We, however, +may know them, and may understand their nature, without learning +above two lines of the letter. "If you can be content to wait awhile, +you will succeed," said Mary; "but when were you ever content to wait +for anything?" "If there is anything I hate, it is waiting," said +Will, when he received the letter; nevertheless the letter made him +happy, and he went about his farm with a sanguine heart, as he +arranged matters for another absence. "Away long?" he said, in answer +to a question asked him by his head man; "how on earth can I say how +long I shall be away? You can go on well enough without me by this +time, I should think. You will have to learn, for there is no knowing +how often I may be away, or for how long."</p> + +<p>When Mary said that the letter had been written, Clara again spoke +about going. "And where will you go?" said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I will take a lodging in Taunton."</p> + +<p>"He would only follow you there, and there would be more trouble. +That would be all. He must act as your guardian, and in that +capacity, at any rate, you must submit to him." Clara, therefore, +consented to remain at Belton; but, before Will arrived, she returned +from the house to the cottage.</p> + +<p>"Of course I understand all about it," said Mrs. Askerton; "and let +me tell you this,—that if it is not all settled within a week from +his coming here, I shall think that you are without a heart. He is to +be knocked about, and cuffed, and kept from his work, and made to run +up and down between here and Norfolk, because you cannot bring +yourself to confess that you have been a fool."</p> + +<p>"I have never said that I have not been a fool," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"You have made a mistake,—as young women will do sometimes, even +when they are as prudent and circumspect as you are,—and now you +don't quite like the task of putting it right."</p> + +<p>It was all true, and Clara knew that it was true. The putting right +of mistakes is never pleasant; and in this case it was so unpleasant +that she could not bring herself to acknowledge that it must be done. +And yet, I think, that by this time she was aware of the necessity.</p> + + +<p><a name="c31" id="c31"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3> +<h4>TAKING POSSESSION.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>"I want her to have it all," said William Belton to Mr. Green, the +lawyer, when they came to discuss the necessary arrangements for the +property.</p> + +<p>"But that would be absurd."</p> + +<p>"Never mind. It is what I wish. I suppose a man may do what he likes +with his own."</p> + +<p>"She won't take it," said the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"She must take it, if you manage the matter properly," said Will.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose it will make much difference," said the +lawyer,—"now that Captain Aylmer is out of the running."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about that. Of course I am very glad that he should +be out of the running, as you call it. He is a bad sort of fellow, +and I didn't want him to have the property. But all that has had +nothing to do with it. I'm not doing it because I think she is ever +to be my wife."</p> + +<p>From this the reader will understand that Belton was still fidgeting +himself and the lawyer about the estate when he passed through +London. The matter in dispute, however, was so important that he was +induced to seek the advice of others besides Mr. Green, and at last +was brought to the conclusion that it was his paramount duty to +become Belton of Belton. There seemed in the minds of all these +councillors to be some imperative and almost imperious requirement +that the acres should go back to a man of his name. Now, as there was +no one else of the family who could stand in his way, he had no +alternative but to become Belton of Belton. He would, however, sell +his estate in Norfolk, and raise money for endowing Clara with +commensurate riches. Such was his own plan;—but having fallen among +counsellors he would not exactly follow his own plan, and at last +submitted to an arrangement in accordance with which an annuity of +eight hundred pounds a year was to be settled upon Clara, and this +was to lie as a charge upon the estate in Norfolk.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me to be very shabby," said William Belton.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me to be very extravagant," said the leader among the +counsellors. "She is not entitled to sixpence."</p> + +<p>But at last the arrangement as above described was the one to which +they all assented.</p> + +<p>When Belton reached the house which was now his own he found no one +there but his sister. Clara was at the cottage. As he had been told +that she was to return there, he had no reason to be annoyed. But, +nevertheless, he was annoyed, or rather discontented, and had not +been a quarter of an hour about the place before he declared his +intention to go and seek her.</p> + +<p>"Do no such thing, Will; pray do not," said his sister.</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because it will be better that you should wait. You will only injure +yourself and her by being impetuous."</p> + +<p>"But it is absolutely necessary that she should know her own +position. It would be cruelty to keep her in ignorance;—though for +the matter of that I shall be ashamed to tell her. Yes;—I shall be +ashamed to look her in the face. What will she think of it after I +had assured her that she should have the whole?"</p> + +<p>"But she would not have taken it, Will. And had she done so, she +would have been very wrong. Now she will be comfortable."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could be comfortable," said he.</p> + +<p>"If you will only wait—"</p> + +<p>"I hate waiting. I do not see what good it will do. Besides, I don't +mean to say anything about that,—not to-day, at least. I don't +indeed. As for being here and not seeing her, that is out of the +question. Of course she would think that I had quarrelled with her, +and that I meant to take everything to myself, now that I have the +power."</p> + +<p>"She won't suspect you of wishing to quarrel with her, Will."</p> + +<p>"I should in her place. It is out of the question that I should be +here, and not go to her. It would be monstrous. I will wait till they +have done lunch, and then I will go up."</p> + +<p>It was at last decided that he should walk up to the cottage, call +upon Colonel Askerton, and ask to see Clara in the Colonel's +presence. It was thought that he could make his statement about the +money better before a third person who could be regarded as Clara's +friend, than could possibly be done between themselves. He did, +therefore, walk across to the cottage, and was shown into Colonel +Askerton's study.</p> + +<p>"There he is," Mrs. Askerton said, as soon as she heard the sound of +the bell. "I knew that he would come at once."</p> + +<p>During the whole morning Mrs. Askerton had been insisting that Belton +would make his appearance on that very day,—the day of his arrival +at Belton, and Clara had been asserting that he would not do so.</p> + +<p>"Why should he come?" Clara had said.</p> + +<p>"Simply to take you to his own house, like any other of his goods and +chattels."</p> + +<p>"I am not his goods or his chattels."</p> + +<p>"But you soon will be; and why shouldn't you accept your lot quietly? +He is Belton of Belton, and everything here belongs to him."</p> + +<p>"I do not belong to him."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense! When a man has the command of the situation, as he +has, he can do just what he pleases. If he were to come and carry you +off by violence, I have no doubt the Beltonians would assist him, and +say that he was right. And you of course would forgive him. Belton of +Belton may do anything."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense, if you please."</p> + +<p>"Indeed if you had any of that decent feeling of feminine inferiority +which ought to belong to all women, he would have found you sitting +on the door-step of his house waiting for him."</p> + +<p>That had been said early in the morning, when they first knew that he +had arrived; but they had been talking about him ever since,—talking +about him under pressure from Mrs. Askerton, till Clara had been +driven to long that she might be spared. "If he chooses to come, he +will come," she said. "Of course he will come," Mrs. Askerton had +answered, and then they heard the ring of the bell. "There he is. I +could swear to the sound of his foot. Doesn't he step as though he +were Belton of Belton, and conscious that everything belonged to +him?" Then there was a pause. "He has been shown in to Colonel +Askerton. What on earth could he want with him?"</p> + +<p>"He has called to tell him something about the cottage," said Clara, +endeavouring to speak as though she were calm through it all.</p> + +<p>"Cottage! Fiddlestick! The idea of a man coming to look after his +trumpery cottage on the first day of his showing himself as lord of +his own property! Perhaps he is demanding that you shall be delivered +up to him. If he does I shall vote for obeying."</p> + +<p>"And I for disobeying,—and shall vote very strongly too."</p> + +<p>Their suspense was yet prolonged for another ten minutes, and at the +end of that time the servant came in and asked if Miss Amedroz would +be good enough to go into the master's room. "Mr. Belton is there, +Fanny?" asked Mrs. Askerton. The girl confessed that Mr. Belton was +there, and then Clara, without another word, got up and left the +room. She had much to do in assuming a look of composure before she +opened the door; but she made the effort, and was not unsuccessful. +In another second she found her hand in her cousin's, and his bright +eye was fixed upon her with that eager friendly glance which made his +face so pleasant to those whom he loved.</p> + +<p>"Your cousin has been telling me of the arrangements he has been +making for you with the lawyers," said Colonel Askerton. "I can only +say that I wish all the ladies had cousins so liberal, and so able to +be liberal."</p> + +<p>"I thought I would see Colonel Askerton first, as you are staying at +his house. And as for liberality,—there is nothing of the kind. You +must understand, Clara, that a fellow can't do what he likes with his +own in this country. I have found myself so bullied by lawyers and +that sort of people, that I have been obliged to yield to them. I +wanted that you should have the old place, to do just what you +pleased with it."</p> + +<p>"That was out of the question, Will."</p> + +<p>"Of course it was," said Colonel Askerton. Then, as Belton himself +did not proceed to the telling of his own story, the Colonel told it +for him, and explained what was the income which Clara was to +receive.</p> + +<p>"But that is as much out of the question," said she, "as the other. I +cannot rob you in that way. I cannot and I shall not. And why should +I? What do I want with an income? Something I ought to have, if only +for the credit of the family, and that I am willing to take from your +kindness; <span class="nowrap">but—"</span></p> + +<p>"It's all settled now, Clara."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that you can lessen the weight of your obligation, +Miss Amedroz, after what has been done up in London," said the +Colonel.</p> + +<p>"If you had said a hundred a year—"</p> + +<p>"I have been allowed to say nothing," said Belton; "those people have +said eight,—and so it is settled. When are you coming over to see +Mary?"</p> + +<p>To this question he got no definite answer, and as he went away +immediately afterwards he hardly seemed to expect one. He did not +even ask for Mrs. Askerton, and as that lady remarked, behaved +altogether like a bear. "But what a munificent bear!" she said. +"Fancy;—eight hundred a year of your own. One begins to doubt +whether it is worth one's while to marry at all with such an income +as that to do what one likes with! However, it all means nothing. It +will all be his own again before you have even touched it."</p> + +<p>"You must not say anything more about that," said Clara gravely.</p> + +<p>"And why must I not?"</p> + +<p>"Because I shall hear nothing more of it. There is an end of all +that,—as there ought to be."</p> + +<p>"Why an end? I don't see an end. There will be no end till Belton of +Belton has got you and your eight hundred a year as well as +everything else."</p> + +<p>"You will find that—he—does not mean—anything—more," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"You think not?"</p> + +<p>"I am—sure of it." Then there was a little sound in her throat as +though she were in some danger of being choked; but she soon +recovered herself, and was able to express herself clearly. "I have +only one favour to ask you now, Mrs. Askerton, and that is that you +will never say anything more about him. He has changed his mind. Of +course he has, or he would not come here like that and have gone away +without saying a word."</p> + +<p>"Not a word! A man gives you eight hundred a year, and that is not +saying a word!"</p> + +<p>"Not a word except about money! But of course he is right. I know +that he is right. After what has passed he would be very wrong +to—to—think about it any more. You joke about his being Belton of +Belton. But it does make a difference."</p> + +<p>"It does;—does it?"</p> + +<p>"It has made a difference. I see and feel it now. I shall never—hear +him—ask me—that question—any more."</p> + +<p>"And if you did hear him, what answer would you make him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"That is just it. Women are so cross-grained that it is a wonder to +me that men should ever have anything to do with them. They have +about them some madness of a phantasy which they dignify with the +name of feminine pride, and under the cloak of this they believe +themselves to be justified in tormenting their lovers' lives out. The +only consolation is that they torment themselves as much. Can +anything be more cross-grained than you are at this moment? You were +resolved just now that it would be the most unbecoming thing in the +world if he spoke a word more about his love for the next twelve +<span class="nowrap">months—"</span></p> + +<p>"Mrs. Askerton, I said nothing about twelve months."</p> + +<p>"And now you are broken-hearted because he did not blurt it all out +before Colonel Askerton in a business interview, which was very +properly had at once, and in which he has had the exceeding good +taste to confine himself altogether to the one subject."</p> + +<p>"I am not complaining."</p> + +<p>"It was good taste; though if he had not been a bear he might have +asked after me, who am fighting his battles for him night and day."</p> + +<p>"But what will he do next?"</p> + +<p>"Eat his dinner, I should think, as it is now nearly five o'clock. +Your father used always to dine at five."</p> + +<p>"I can't go to see Mary," she said, "till he comes here again."</p> + +<p>"He will be here fast enough. I shouldn't wonder if he was to come +here to-night." And he did come again that night.</p> + +<p>When Belton's interview was over in the Colonel's study, he left the +house,—without even asking after the mistress, as that mistress had +taken care to find out,—and went off, rambling about the estate +which was now his own. It was a beautiful place, and he was not +insensible to the gratification of being its owner. There is much in +the glory of ownership,—of the ownership of land and houses, of +beeves and woolly flocks, of wide fields and thick-growing woods, +even when that ownership is of late date, when it conveys to the +owner nothing but the realisation of a property on the soil; but +there is much more in it when it contains the memories of old years; +when the glory is the glory of race as well as the glory of power and +property. There had been Beltons of Belton living there for many +centuries, and now he was the Belton of the day, standing on his own +ground,—the descendant and representative of the Beltons of +old,—Belton of Belton without a flaw in his pedigree! He felt +himself to be proud of his position,—prouder than he could have been +of any other that might have been vouchsafed to him. And yet amidst +it all he was somewhat ashamed of his pride. "The man who can do it +for himself is the real man after all," he said. "But I have got it +by a fluke,—and by such a sad chance too!" Then he wandered on, +thinking of the circumstances under which the property had fallen +into his hands, and remembering how and when and where the first idea +had occurred to him of making Clara Amedroz his wife. He had then +felt that if he could only do that he could reconcile himself to the +heirship. And the idea had grown upon him instantly, and had become a +passion by the eagerness with which he had welcomed it. From that day +to this he had continued to tell himself that he could not enjoy his +good fortune unless he could enjoy it with her. There had come to be +a horrid impediment in his way,—a barrier which had seemed to have +been placed there by his evil fortune, to compensate the gifts given +to him by his good fortune, and that barrier had been Captain Aylmer. +He had not, in fact, seen much of his rival, but he had seen enough +to make it matter of wonder to him that Clara could be attached to +such a man. He had thoroughly despised Captain Aylmer, and had longed +to show his contempt of the man by kicking him out of the hotel at +the London railway station. At that moment all the world had seemed +to him to be wrong and wretched.</p> + +<p>But now it seemed that all the world might so easily be made right +again! The impediment had got itself removed. Belton did not even yet +altogether comprehend by what means Clara had escaped from the meshes +of the Aylmer Park people, but he did know that she had escaped. Her +eyes had been opened before it was too late, and she was a free +woman,—to be compassed if only a man might compass her. While she +had been engaged to Captain Aylmer, Will had felt that she was not +assailable. Though he had not been quite able to restrain +himself,—as on that fatal occasion when he had taken her in his arms +and kissed her,—still he had known that as she was an engaged woman, +he could not, without insulting her, press his own suit upon her. But +now all that was over. Let him say what he liked on that head, she +would have no proper plea for anger. She was assailable;—and, as +this was so, why the mischief should he not set about the work at +once? His sister bade him to wait. Why should he wait when one +fortunate word might do it? Wait! He could not wait. How are you to +bid a starving man to wait when you put him down at a well-covered +board? Here was he, walking about Belton Park,—just where she used +to walk with him;—and there was she at Belton Cottage, within half +an hour of him at this moment, if he were to go quickly; and yet Mary +was telling him to wait! No; he would not wait. There could be no +reason for waiting. Wait, indeed, till some other Captain Aylmer +should come in the way and give him more trouble!</p> + +<p>So he wandered on, resolving that he would see his cousin again that +very day. Such an interview as that which had just taken place +between two such dear friends was not natural,—was not to be +endured. What might not Clara think of it! To meet her for the first +time after her escape from Aylmer Park, and to speak to her only on +matters concerning money! He would certainly go to her again on that +afternoon. In his walking he came to the bottom of the rising ground +on the top of which stood the rock on which he and Clara had twice +sat. But he turned away, and would not go up to it. He hoped that he +might go up to it very soon,—but, except under certain +circumstances, he would never go up to it again.</p> + +<p>"I am going across to the cottage immediately after dinner," he said +to his sister.</p> + +<p>"Have you an appointment?"</p> + +<p>"No; I have no appointment. I suppose a man doesn't want an +appointment to go and see his own cousin down in the country."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what their habits are."</p> + +<p>"I shan't ask to go in; but I want to see her."</p> + +<p>Mary looked at him with loving, sorrowing eyes, but she said no more. +She loved him so well that she would have given her right hand to get +for him what he wanted;—but she sorrowed to think that he should +want such a thing so sorely. Immediately after his dinner, he took +his hat and went out without saying a word further, and made his way +once more across to the gate of the cottage. It was a lovely summer +evening, at that period of the year in which our summer evenings just +begin, when the air is sweeter and the flowers more fragrant, and the +forms of the foliage more lovely than at any other time. It was now +eight o'clock, but it was hardly as yet evening; none at least of the +gloom of evening had come, though the sun was low in the heavens. At +the cottage they were all sitting out on the lawn; and as Belton came +near he was seen by them, and he saw them.</p> + +<p>"I told you so," said Mrs. Askerton, to Clara, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"He is not coming in," Clara answered. "He is going on."</p> + +<p>But when he had come nearer, Colonel Askerton called to him over the +garden paling, and asked him to join them. He was now standing within +ten or fifteen yards of them, though the fence divided them. "I have +come to ask my cousin Clara to take a walk with me," he said. "She +can be back by your tea time." He made his request very placidly, and +did not in any way look like a lover.</p> + +<p>"I am sure she will be glad to go," said Mrs. Askerton. But Clara +said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Do take a turn with me, if you are not tired," said he.</p> + +<p>"She has not been out all day, and cannot be tired," said Mrs. +Askerton, who had now walked up to the paling. "Clara, get your hat. +But, Mr. Belton, what have I done that I am to be treated in this +way? Perhaps you don't remember that you have not spoken to me since +your arrival."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I beg your pardon," said he, endeavouring to stretch +his hand across the bushes. "I forgot I didn't see you this morning."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I mustn't be angry, as this is your day of taking +possession; but it is exactly on such days as this that one likes to +be remembered."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to forget you, Mrs. Askerton; I didn't, indeed. And as +for the special day, that's all bosh, you know. I haven't taken +particular possession of anything that I know of."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will, Mr. Belton, before the day is over," said she. +Clara had at length arisen, and had gone into the house to fetch her +hat. She had not spoken a word, and even yet her cousin did not know +whether she was coming. "I hope you will take possession of a great +deal that is very valuable. Clara has gone to get her hat."</p> + +<p>"Do you think she means to walk?"</p> + +<p>"I think she does, Mr. Belton. And there she is at the door. Mind you +bring her back to tea."</p> + +<p>Clara, as she came forth, felt herself quite unable to speak, or +walk, or look after her usual manner. She knew herself to be a +victim,—to be so far a victim that she could no longer control her +own fate. To Captain Aylmer, at any rate, she had never succumbed. In +all her dealings with him she had fought upon an equal footing. She +had never been compelled to own herself mastered. But now she was +being led out that she might confess her own submission, and +acknowledge that hitherto she had not known what was good for her. +She knew that she would have to yield. She must have known how happy +she was to have an opportunity of yielding; but yet,—yet, had there +been any room for choice, she thought she would have refrained from +walking with her cousin that evening. She had wept that afternoon +because she had thought that he would not come again; and now that he +had come at the first moment that was possible for him, she was +almost tempted to wish him once more away.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you understand that when I came up this morning I came +merely to talk about business," said Belton, as soon as they were off +together.</p> + +<p>"It was very good of you to come at all so soon after your arrival."</p> + +<p>"I told those people in London that I would have it all settled at +once, and so I wanted to have it off my mind."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I ought to say to you. Of course I shall not want +so much money as that."</p> + +<p>"We won't talk about the money any more to-day. I hate talking about +money."</p> + +<p>"It is not the pleasantest subject in the world."</p> + +<p>"No," said he; "no indeed. I hate it,—particularly between friends. +So you have come to grief with your friends, the Aylmers?"</p> + +<p>"I hope I haven't come to grief,—and the Aylmers, as a family, never +were my friends. I'm obliged to contradict you, point by point,—you +see."</p> + +<p>"I don't like Captain Aylmer at all," said Will, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"So I saw Will; and I dare say he was not very fond of you."</p> + +<p>"Fond of me! I didn't want him to be fond of me. I don't suppose he +ever thought much about me. I could not help thinking of him."—She +had nothing to say to this, and therefore walked on silently by his +side. "I suppose he has not any idea of coming back here again?"</p> + +<p>"What; to Belton? No, I do not think he will come to Belton any +more."</p> + +<p>"Nor will you go to Aylmer Park?"</p> + +<p>"No; certainly not. Of all the places on earth, Will, to which you +could send me, Aylmer Park is the one to which I should go most +unwillingly."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to send you there."</p> + +<p>"You never could be made to understand what a woman she is; how +disagreeable, how cruel, how imperious, how insolent."</p> + +<p>"Was she so bad as all that?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed she was, Will. I can't but tell the truth to you."</p> + +<p>"And he was nearly as bad as she."</p> + +<p>"No, Will; no; do not say that of him."</p> + +<p>"He was such a quarrelsome fellow. He flew at me just because I said +we had good hunting down in Norfolk."</p> + +<p>"We need not talk about all that, Will."</p> + +<p>"No;—of course not. It's all passed and gone, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—it is all passed and gone. You did not know my Aunt +Winterfield, or you would understand my first reason for liking him."</p> + +<p>"No," said Will; "I never saw her."</p> + +<p>Then they walked on together for a while without speaking, and Clara +was beginning to feel some relief,—some relief at first; but as the +relief came, there came back to her the dead, dull, feeling of +heaviness at her heart which had oppressed her after his visit in the +morning. She had been right, and Mrs. Askerton had been wrong. He had +returned to her simply as her cousin, and now he was walking with her +and talking to her in this strain, to teach her that it was so. But +of a sudden they came to a place where two paths diverged, and he +turned upon her and asked her quickly which path they should take. +"Look, Clara," he said, "will you go up there with me?" It did not +need that she should look, as she knew that the way indicated by him +led up among the rocks.</p> + +<p>"I don't much care which way," she said, faintly.</p> + +<p>"Do you not? But I do. I care very much. Don't you remember where +that path goes?" She had no answer to give to this. She remembered +well, and remembered how he had protested that he would never go to +the place again unless he could go there as her accepted lover. And +she had asked herself sundry questions as to that protestation. Could +it be that for her sake he would abstain from visiting the prettiest +spot on his estate,—that he would continue to regard the ground as +hallowed because of his memories of her? "Which way shall we go?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it does not much signify," said she, trembling.</p> + +<p>"But it does signify. It signifies very much to me. Will you go up to +the rocks?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid we shall be late, if we stay out long."</p> + +<p>"What matters how late? Will you come?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so,—if you wish it, Will."</p> + +<p>She had anticipated that the high rock was to be the altar at which +the victim was to be sacrificed; but now he would not wait till he +had taken her to the sacred spot. He had of course intended that he +would there renew his offer; but he had perceived that his offer had +been renewed, and had, in fact, been accepted, during this little +parley as to the pathway. There was hardly any necessity for further +words. So he must have thought; for, as quick as lightning, he flung +his arms around her, and kissed her again, as he had kissed her on +that other terrible occasion,—that occasion on which he had felt +that he might hardly hope for pardon.</p> + +<p>"William, William," she said; "how can you serve me like that?" But +he had a full understanding as to his own privileges, and was well +aware that he was in the right now, as he had been before that he was +trespassing egregiously. "Why are you so rough with me?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Clara, say that you love me."</p> + +<p>"I will say nothing to you because you are so rough."</p> + +<p>They were now walking up slowly towards the rocks. And as he had his +arm round her waist, he was contented for awhile to allow her to walk +without speaking. But when they were on the summit it was necessary +for him that he should have a word from her of positive assurance. +"Clara, say that you love me."</p> + +<p>"Have I not always loved you, Will, since almost the first moment +that I saw you?"</p> + +<p>"But that won't do. You know that is not fair. Come, Clara; I've had +a deal of trouble,—and grief too; haven't I? You should say a word +to make up for it;—that is, if you can say it."</p> + +<p>"What can a word like that signify to you to-day? You have got +everything."</p> + +<p>"Have I got you?" Still she paused. "I will have an answer. Have I +got you? Are you now my own?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so, Will. Don't now. I will not have it again. Does not +that satisfy you?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me that you love me."</p> + +<p>"You know that I love you."</p> + +<p>"Better than anybody in the world?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—better than anybody in the world."</p> + +<p>"And after all you will be—my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Will,—how you question one!"</p> + +<p>"You shall say it, and then it will all be fair and honest."</p> + +<p>"Say what? I'm sure I thought I had said everything."</p> + +<p>"Say that you mean to be my wife."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so,—if you wish it."</p> + +<p>"Wish it!" said he, getting up from his seat, and throwing his hat +into the bushes on one side; "wish it! I don't think you have ever +understood how I have wished it. Look here, Clara; I found when I got +down to Norfolk that I couldn't live without you. Upon my word it is +true. I don't suppose you'll believe me."</p> + +<p>"I didn't think it could be so bad with you as that."</p> + +<p>"No;—I don't suppose women ever do believe. And I wouldn't have +believed it of myself. I hated myself for it. By George, I did. That +is when I began to think it was all up with me."</p> + +<p>"All up with you! Oh, Will!"</p> + +<p>"I had quite made up my mind to go to New Zealand. I had, indeed. I +couldn't have kept my hands off that man if we had been living in the +same country. I should have wrung his neck."</p> + +<p>"Will, how can you talk so wickedly?"</p> + +<p>"There's no understanding it till you have felt it. But never mind. +It's all right now; isn't it, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"If you think so."</p> + +<p>"Think so! Oh, Clara, I am such a happy fellow. Do give me a kiss. +You have never given me one kiss yet."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense! I didn't think you were such a baby."</p> + +<p>"By George, but you shall;—or you shall never get home to tea +to-night. My own, own, own darling. Upon my word, Clara, when I begin +to think about it I shall be half mad."</p> + +<p>"I think you are quite that already."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not;—but I shall be when I'm alone. What can I say to you, +Clara, to make you understand how much I love you? You remember the +song, 'For Bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me down and dee.' Of course it +is all nonsense talking of dying for a woman. What a man has to do is +to live for her. But that is my feeling. I'm ready to give you my +life. If there was anything to do for you, I'd do it if I could, +whatever it was. Do you understand me?"</p> + +<p>"Dear Will! Dearest Will!"</p> + +<p>"Am I dearest?"</p> + +<p>"Are you not sure of it?"</p> + +<p>"But I like you to tell me so. I like to feel that you are not +ashamed to own it. You ought to say it a few times to me, as I have +said it so very often to you."</p> + +<p>"You'll hear enough of it before you've done with me."</p> + +<p>"I shall never have heard enough of it. Oh, Heavens, only think, when +I was coming down in the train last night I was in such a bad way."</p> + +<p>"And are you in a good way now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; in a very good way. I shall crow over Mary so when I get home."</p> + +<p>"And what has poor Mary done?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind."</p> + +<p>"I dare say she knows what is good for you better than you know +yourself. I suppose she has told you that you might do a great deal +better than trouble yourself with a wife?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind what she has told me. It is settled now;—is it not?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so, Will."</p> + +<p>"But not quite settled as yet. When shall it be? That is the next +question."</p> + +<p>But to that question Clara positively refused to make any reply that +her lover would consider to be satisfactory. He continued to press +her till she was at last driven to remind him how very short a time +it was since her father had been among them; and then he was very +angry with himself, and declared himself to be a brute. "Anything but +that," she said. "You are the kindest and the best of men;—but at +the same time the most impatient."</p> + +<p>"That's what Mary says; but what's the good of waiting? She wanted me +to wait to-day."</p> + +<p>"And as you would not, you have fallen into a trap out of which you +can never escape. But pray let us go. What will they think of us?"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if they didn't think something near the truth."</p> + +<p>"Whatever they think, we will go back. It is ever so much past nine."</p> + +<p>"Before you stir, Clara, tell me one thing. Are you really happy?"</p> + +<p>"Very happy."</p> + +<p>"And are you glad that this has been done?"</p> + +<p>"Very glad. Will that satisfy you?"</p> + +<p>"And you do love me?"</p> + +<p>"I do—I do—I do. Can I say more than that?"</p> + +<p>"More than anybody else in the world?"</p> + +<p>"Better than all the world put together."</p> + +<p>"Then," said he, holding her tight in his arms, "show me that you +love me." And as he made his request he was quick to explain to her +what, according to his ideas, was the becoming mode by which lovers +might show their love. I wonder whether it ever occurred to Clara, as +she thought of it all before she went to bed that night, that Captain +Aylmer and William Belton were very different in their manners. And +if so, I must wonder further whether she most approved the manners of +the patient man or the man who was impatient.</p> + + +<p><a name="c32" id="c32"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3> +<h4>CONCLUSION.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>About two months after the scene described in the last chapter, when +the full summer had arrived, Clara received two letters from the two +lovers, the history of whose loves have just been told, and these +shall be submitted to the reader, as they will serve to explain the +manner in which the two men proposed to arrange their affairs. We +will first have Captain Aylmer's letter, which was the first read; +Clara kept the latter for the last, as children always keep their +sweetest morsels.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Aylmer Park, August, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Miss Amedroz</span>,</p> + +<p>I heard before leaving London that you are engaged to +marry your cousin Mr. William Belton, and I think that +perhaps you may be satisfied to have a line from me to let +you know that I quite approve of the marriage.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">"I do not care very much for his approval +or disapproval," said Clara as she read this.</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">No doubt it will be the best +thing you can do, especially +as it will heal all the sores arising from the entail.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">"There never was any sore," said Clara.</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">Pray give my compliments +to Mr. Belton, and offer him my +congratulations, and tell him that I wish him all +happiness in the married state.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"Married fiddlestick!" said Clara. In this she was unreasonable; but +the euphonious platitudes of Captain Aylmer were so unlike the +vehement protestations of Mr. Belton that she must be excused if by +this time she had come to entertain something of an unreasonable +aversion for the former.</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>I hope you will not receive my news with perfect +indifference when I tell you that I also am going to be +married. The lady is one whom I have known for a long +time, and have always esteemed very highly. She is Lady +Emily Tagmaggert, the youngest daughter of the Earl of +Mull.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">Why Clara should +immediately have conceived a feeling of supreme +contempt for Lady Emily Tagmaggert, and assured herself that her +ladyship was a thin, dry, cross old maid with a red nose, I cannot +explain; but I do know that such were her thoughts, almost +instantaneously, in reference to Captain Aylmer's future bride.</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">Lady Emily is +a very intimate friend of my sister's; and +you, who know how our family cling together, will feel how +thankful I must be when I tell you that my mother quite +approves of the engagement. I suppose we shall be married +early in the spring. We shall probably spend some months +every year at Perivale, and I hope that we may look +forward to the pleasure of seeing you sometimes as a guest +beneath our roof.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>On reading this Clara shuddered, and made some inward protestation +which seemed to imply that she had no wish whatever to revisit the +dull streets of the little town with which she had been so well +acquainted. "I hope she'll be good to poor Mr. Possit," said Clara, +"and give him port wine on Sundays."</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>I have one more thing that I ought to say. You will +remember that I intended to pay my aunt's legacy +immediately after her death, but that I was prevented by +circumstances which I could not control. I have paid it +now into Mr. Green's hands on your account, together with +the sum of £59 18<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i>, which is due upon it as +interest at the rate of five per cent. I hope that this +may be satisfactory.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"It is not satisfactory at all," said Clara, putting down the letter, +and resolving that Will Belton should be instructed to repay the +money instantly. It may, however, be explained here that in this +matter Clara was doomed to be disappointed; and that she was forced, +by Mr. Green's arguments, to receive the money. "Then it shall go to +the hospital at Perivale," she declared when those arguments were +used. As to that, Mr. Green was quite indifferent, but I do not think +that the legacy which troubled poor Aunt Winterfield so much on her +dying bed was ultimately applied to so worthy a purpose.</p> + +<p>"And now, my dear Miss Amedroz," continued the letter,</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">I will say farewell, +with many assurances of my unaltered +esteem, and with heartfelt wishes for your future +happiness. Believe me to be always,</p> + +<p class="ind10">Most faithfully and sincerely yours,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Frederic F. Aylmer</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"Esteem!" said Clara, as she finished the letter. "I wonder which he +esteems the most, me or Lady Emily Tagmaggert. He will never get +beyond esteem with any one."</p> + +<p>The letter which was last read was as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Plaistow, August, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Clara</span>,</p> + +<p>I don't think I shall ever get done, and I am coming to +hate farming. It is awful lonely here, too, and I pass all +my evenings by myself, wondering why I should be doomed to +this kind of thing, while you and Mary are comfortable +together at Belton. We have begun with the wheat, and as +soon as that is safe I shall cut and run. I shall leave +the barley to Bunce. Bunce knows as much about it as I +do,—and as for remaining here all the summer, it's out of +the question.</p> + +<p>My own dear, darling love, of course I don't intend to +urge you to do anything that you don't like; but upon my +honour I don't see the force of what you say. You know I +have as much respect for your father's memory as anybody, +but what harm can it do to him that we should be married +at once? Don't you think he would have wished it himself? +It can be ever so quiet. So long as it's done, I don't +care a straw how it's done. Indeed, for the matter of +that, I always think it would be best just to walk to +church and to walk home again without saying anything to +anybody. I hate fuss and nonsense, and really I don't +think anybody would have a right to say anything if we +were to do it at once in that sort of way. I have had a +bad time of it for the last twelvemonth. You must allow +that, and I think that I ought to be rewarded.</p> + +<p>As for living, you shall have your choice. Indeed you +shall live anywhere you please;—at Timbuctoo if you like +it. I don't want to give up Plaistow, because my father +and grandfather farmed the land themselves; but I am quite +prepared not to live here. I don't think it would suit +you, because it has so much of the farm-house about it. +Only I should like you sometimes to come and look at the +old place. What I should like would be to pull down the +house at Belton and build another. But you mustn't propose +to put it off till that's done, as I should never have the +heart to do it. If you think that would suit you, I'll +make up my mind to live at Belton for a constancy; and +then I'd go in for a lot of cattle, and don't doubt I'd +make a fortune. I'm almost sick of looking at the straight +ridges in the big square fields every day of my life.</p> + +<p>Give my love to Mary. I hope she fights my battle for me. +Pray think of all this, and relent if you can. I do so +long to have an end of this purgatory. If there was any +use, I wouldn't say a word; but there's no good in being +tortured, when there is no use. God bless you, dearest +love. I do love you so well!</p> + +<p class="ind14">Yours most affectionately,</p> + +<p class="ind20"><span class="smallcaps">W. Belton</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>She kissed the letter twice, pressed it to her bosom, and then sat +silent for half an hour thinking of it;—of it, and the man who wrote +it, and of the man who had written the other letter. She could not +but remember how that other man had thought to treat her, when it was +his intention and her intention that they two should join their lots +together;—how cold he had been; how full of caution and counsel; how +he had preached to her himself and threatened her with the preaching +of his mother; how manifestly he had purposed to make her life a +sacrifice to his life; how he had premeditated her incarceration at +Perivale, while he should be living a bachelor's life in London! Will +Belton's ideas of married life were very different. Only come to me +at once,—now, immediately, and everything else shall be disposed +just as you please. This was his offer. What he proposed to give,—or +rather his willingness to be thus generous, was very sweet to her; +but it was not half so sweet as his impatience in demanding his +reward. How she doted on him because he considered his present state +to be a purgatory! How could she refuse anything she could give to +one who desired her gifts so strongly?</p> + +<p>As for her future residence, it would be a matter of indifference to +her where she should live, so long as she might live with him; but +for him,—she felt that but one spot in the world was fit for him. He +was Belton of Belton, and it would not be becoming that he should +live elsewhere. Of course she would go with him to Plaistow Hall as +often as he might wish it; but Belton Castle should be his permanent +resting-place. It would be her duty to be proud for him, and +therefore, for his sake, she would beg that their home might be in +Somersetshire.</p> + +<p>"Mary," she said to her cousin soon afterwards, "Will sends his love +to you."</p> + +<p>"And what else does he say?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't tell you everything. You shouldn't expect it."</p> + +<p>"I don't expect it; but perhaps there may be something to be told."</p> + +<p>"Nothing that I need tell,—specially. You, who know him so well, can +imagine what he would say."</p> + +<p>"Dear Will! I am sure he would mean to write what was pleasant."</p> + +<p>Then the matter would have dropped had Clara been so minded,—but +she, in truth, was anxious to be forced to talk about the letter. She +wished to be urged by Mary to do that which Will urged her to +do;—or, at least, to learn whether Mary thought that her brother's +wish might be gratified without impropriety. "Don't you think we +ought to live here?" she said.</p> + +<p>"By all means,—if you both like it."</p> + +<p>"He is so good,—so unselfish, that he will only ask me to do what I +like best."</p> + +<p>"And which would you like best?"</p> + +<p>"I think he ought to live here because it is the old family property. +I confess that the name goes for something with me. He says that he +would build a new house."</p> + +<p>"Does he think he could have it ready by the time you are married?"</p> + +<p>"Ah;—that is just the difficulty. Perhaps, after all, you had better +read his letter. I don't know why I should not show it to you. It +will only tell you what you know already,—that he is the most +generous fellow in all the world." Then Mary read the letter. "What +am I to say to him?" Clara asked. "It seems so hard to refuse +anything to one who is so true, and good, and generous."</p> + +<p>"It is hard."</p> + +<p>"But you see my poor, dear father's death has been so recent."</p> + +<p>"I hardly know," said Mary, "how the world feels about such things."</p> + +<p>"I think we ought to wait at least twelve months," said Clara, very +sadly.</p> + +<p>"Poor Will! He will be broken-hearted a dozen times before that. But +then, when his happiness does come, he will be all the happier." +Clara, when she heard this, almost hated her cousin Mary,—not for +her own sake, but on Will's account. Will trusted so implicitly to +his sister, and yet she could not make a better fight for him than +this! It almost seemed that Mary was indifferent to her brother's +happiness. Had Will been her brother, Clara thought, and had any girl +asked her advice under similar circumstances, she was sure that she +would have answered in a different way. She would have told such girl +that her first duty was owing to the man who was to be her husband, +and would not have said a word to her about the feeling of the world. +After all, what did the feeling of the world signify to them, who +were going to be all the world to each other?</p> + +<p>On that afternoon she went up to Mrs. Askerton's; and succeeded in +getting advice from her also, though she did not show Will's letter +to that lady. "Of course, I know what he says," said Mrs. Askerton. +"Unless I have mistaken the man, he wants to be married to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"He is not so bad as that," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Then the next day, or the day after. Of course he is impatient, and +does not see any earthly reason why his impatience should not be +gratified."</p> + +<p>"He is impatient."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose you hesitate because of your father's death."</p> + +<p>"It seems but the other day;—does it not?" said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Everything seems but the other day to me. It was but the other day +that I myself was married."</p> + +<p>"And, of course, though I would do anything I could that he would ask +me to <span class="nowrap">do—"</span></p> + +<p>"But would you do anything?"</p> + +<p>"Anything that was not wrong I would. Why should I not, when he is so +good to me?"</p> + +<p>"Then write to him, my dear, and tell him that it shall be as he +wishes it. Believe me, the days of Jacob are over. Men don't +understand waiting now, and it's always as well to catch your fish +when you can."</p> + +<p>"You don't suppose I have any thought of that kind?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure you have not;—and I'm sure that he deserves no such +thought;—but the higher that are his deserts, the greater should be +his reward. If I were you, I should think of nothing but him, and I +should do exactly as he would have me." Clara kissed her friend as +she parted from her, and again resolved that all that woman's sins +should be forgiven her. A woman who could give such excellent advice +deserved that every sin should be forgiven her. "They'll be married +yet before the summer is over," Mrs. Askerton said to her husband +that afternoon. "I believe a man may have anything he chooses to ask +for, if he'll only ask hard enough."</p> + +<p>And they were married in the autumn, if not actually in the summer. +With what precise words Clara answered her lover's letter I will not +say; but her answer was of such a nature that he found himself +compelled to leave Plaistow, even before the wheat was garnered. +Great confidence was placed in Bunce on that occasion, and I have +reason to believe that it was not misplaced. They were married in +September;—yes, in September, although that letter of Will's was +written in August, and by the beginning of October they had returned +from their wedding trip to Plaistow. Clara insisted that she should +be taken to Plaistow, and was very anxious when there to learn all +the particulars of the farm. She put down in a little book how many +acres there were in each field, and what was the average produce of +the land. She made inquiry about four-crop rotation, and endeavoured, +with Bunce, to go into the great subject of stall-feeding. But Belton +did not give her as much encouragement as he might have done. "We'll +come here for the shooting next year," he said; "that is, if there is +nothing to prevent us."</p> + +<p>"I hope there'll be nothing to prevent us."</p> + +<p>"There might be, perhaps; but we'll always come if there is not. For +the rest of it, I'll leave it to Bunce, and just run over once or +twice in the year. It would not be a nice place for you to live at +long."</p> + +<p>"I like it of all things. I am quite interested about the farm."</p> + +<p>"You'd get very sick of it if you were here in the winter. The truth +is that if you farm well, you must farm ugly. The picturesque nooks +and corners have all to be turned inside out, and the hedgerows must +be abolished, because we want the sunshine. Now, down at Belton, just +about the house, we won't mind farming well, but will stick to the +picturesque."</p> + +<p>The new house was immediately commenced at Belton, and was made to +proceed with all imaginable alacrity. It was supposed at one +time,—at least Belton himself said that he so supposed,—that the +building would be ready for occupation at the end of the first +summer; but this was not found to be possible. "We must put it off +till May, after all," said Belton, as he was walking round the +unfinished building with Colonel Askerton. "It's an awful bore, but +there's no getting people really to pull out in this country."</p> + +<p>"I think they've pulled out pretty well. Of course you couldn't have +gone into a damp house for the winter."</p> + +<p>"Other people can get a house built within twelve months. Look what +they do in London."</p> + +<p>"And other people with their wives and children die in consequence of +colds and sore throats and other evils of that nature. I wouldn't go +into a new house, I know, till I was quite sure it was dry."</p> + +<p>As Will at this time was hardly ten months married, he was not as yet +justified in thinking about his own wife and children; but he had +already found it expedient to make arrangements for the autumn, which +would prevent that annual visit to Plaistow which Clara had +contemplated, and which he had regarded with his characteristic +prudence as being subject to possible impediments. He was to be +absent himself for the first week in September, but was to return +immediately after that. This he did; and before the end of that month +he was justified in talking of his wife and family. "I suppose it +wouldn't have done to have been moving now,—under all the +circumstances," he said to his friend, Mrs. Askerton, as he still +grumbled about the unfinished house.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it would have done at all, under all the +circumstances," said Mrs. Askerton.</p> + +<p>But in the following spring or early summer they did get into the new +house;—and a very nice house it was, as will, I think, be believed +by those who have known Mr. William Belton. And when they were well +settled, at which time little Will Belton was some seven or eight +months old,—little Will, for whom great bonfires had been lit, as +though his birth in those parts was a matter not to be regarded +lightly; for was he not the first Belton of Belton who had been born +there for more than a century?—when that time came visitors appeared +at the new Belton Castle, visitors of importance, who were entitled +to, and who received, great consideration. These were no less than +Captain Aylmer, member for Perivale, and his newly-married bride, +Lady Emily Aylmer, <i>née</i> Tagmaggert. They were then just married, and +had come down to Belton Castle immediately after their honeymoon +trip. How it had come to pass that such friendship had sprung up,—or +rather how it had been revived,—it would be bootless here to say. +But old alliances, such as that which had existed between the Aylmer +and the Amedroz families, do not allow themselves to die out easily, +and it is well for us all that they should be long-lived. So Captain +Aylmer brought his bride to Belton Park, and a small fatted calf was +killed, and the Askertons came to dinner,—on which occasion Captain +Aylmer behaved very well, though we may imagine that he must have had +some misgivings on the score of his young wife. The Askertons came to +dinner, and the old rector, and the squire from a neighbouring +parish, and everything was very handsome and very dull. Captain +Aylmer was much pleased with his visit, and declared to Lady Emily +that marriage had greatly improved Mr. William Belton. Now Will had +been very dull the whole evening, and very unlike the fiery, violent, +unreasonable man whom Captain Aylmer remembered to have met at the +station hotel of the Great Northern Railway.</p> + +<p>"I was as sure of it as possible," Clara said to her husband that +night.</p> + +<p>"Sure of what, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"That she would have a red nose."</p> + +<p>"Who has got a red nose?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be stupid, Will. Who should have it but Lady Emily?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I didn't observe it."</p> + +<p>"You never observe anything, Will; do you? But don't you think she is +very plain?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I don't know. She isn't as handsome as some people."</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, Will. How old do you suppose her to be?"</p> + +<p>"How old? Let me see. Thirty, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"If she's not over forty, I'll consent to change noses with her."</p> + +<p>"No;—we won't do that; not if I know it."</p> + +<p>"I cannot conceive why any man should marry such a woman as that. Not +but what she's a very good woman, I dare say; only what can a man get +by it? To be sure there's the title, if that's worth anything."</p> + +<p>But Will Belton was never good for much conversation at this hour, +and was too fast asleep to make any rejoinder to the last remark.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> + +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BELTON ESTATE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 4969-h.txt or 4969-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/9/6/4969">http://www.gutenberg.org/4/9/6/4969</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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