Alice, or the Mysteries — Complete
to renew your Lordship's bill for 10,000 pounds, due the 28th instant.
Respectfully calling your Lordship's attention to the same, I have the
honour to be, for Self & Co., my Lord,
Your Lordship's most obedient and most obliged humble servant,
GUSTAVUS DOUCE.
To the Right Hon. LORD VARGRAVE, etc.
This letter sharpened Lord Vargrave's anxiety and resolve; nay, it
seemed almost to sharpen his sharp features as he muttered sundry
denunciations on Messrs. Douce and Co., while arranging his neckcloth at
the glass.
CHAPTER VI.
_Sol._ Why, please your honourable lordship, we were talking
here and there,--this and that.--_The Stranger_.
AUBREY had been closeted with Evelyn the whole morning; and,
simultaneous with his arrival, came to her the news of the departure of
Maltravers. It was an intelligence that greatly agitated and unnerved
her; and, coupling that event with his solemn words on the previous
night, Evelyn asked herself, in wonder, what sentiments she could have
inspired in Maltravers. Could he love her,--her, so young, so inferior,
so uninformed? Impossible! Alas! alas! for Maltravers! His genius, his
gifts, his towering qualities,--all that won the admiration, almost the
awe, of Evelyn,--placed him at a distance from her heart! When she asked
herself if he loved her, she did not ask, even in that hour, if she
loved him. But even the question she did ask, her judgment answered
erringly in the negative. Why should he love, and yet fly her? She
understood not his high-wrought scruples, his self-deluding belief.
Aubrey was more puzzled than enlightened by his conversation with his
pupil; only one thing seemed certain,--her delight to return to the
cottage and her mother.
Evelyn could not sufficiently recover her composure to mix with the
party below; and Aubrey, at the sound of the second dinner-bell, left
her to her solitude, and bore her excuses to Mrs. Merton.
"Dear me!" said that worthy lady; "I am so sorry. I thought Miss Cameron
looked fatigued at breakfast, and there was something hysterical in
her spirits; and I suppose the surprise of your arrival has upset her.
Caroline, my dear, you had better go and see what she would like to have
taken up to her room,--a little soup and the wing of a chicken."
"My dear," said Mr. Merton, rather pompously, "I think it would be but a
proper respect to Miss Cameron, if you yourself accompanied Caroline."
"I assure you," said the curate, alarmed at the avalanche of politeness
that threatened poor Evelyn,--"I assure you that Miss Cameron would
prefer being left alone at present; as you say, Mrs. Merton, her spirits
are rather agitated."
But Mrs. Merton, with a sliding bow, had already quitted the room, and
Caroline with her.
"Come back, Sophy! Cecilia, come back!" said Mr. Merton, settling his
_jabot_.
"Oh, dear Evy! poor dear Evy!--Evy is ill!" said Sophy; "I may go to
Evy? I must go, Papa!"
"No, my dear, you are too noisy; these children are quite spoiled, Mr.
Aubrey."
The old man looked at them benevolently, and drew them to his knee; and,
while Cissy stroked his long white hair, and Sophy ran on about dear
Evy's prettiness and goodness, Lord Vargrave sauntered into the room.
On seeing the curate, his frank face lighted up with surprise and
pleasure; he hastened to him, seized him by both hands, expressed the
most heartfelt delight at seeing him, inquired tenderly after Lady
Vargrave, and, not till he was out of breath, and Mrs. Merton and
Caroline returning apprised him of Miss Cameron's indisposition, did his
rapture vanish; and, as a moment before he was all joy, so now he was
all sorrow.
The dinner passed off dully enough; the children, re-admitted to
dessert, made a little relief to all parties; and when they and the two
ladies went, Aubrey himself quickly rose to join Evelyn.
"Are you going to Miss Cameron?" said Lord Vargrave; "pray say how
unhappy I feel at her illness. I think these grapes--they are very
fine--could not hurt her. May I ask you to present them with my
best--best and most anxious regards? I shall be so uneasy till you
return. Now, Merton (as the door closed on the curate), let's have
another bottle of this famous claret! Droll old fellow that,--quite a
character!"
"He is a great favourite with Lady Vargrave and Miss Cameron, I
believe," said Mr. Merton. "A mere village priest, I suppose; no talent,
no energy--or he could not be a curate at that age."
"Very true,--a shrewd remark. The Church is as good a profession as any
other for getting on, if a man has anything in him. I shall live to see
_you_ a bishop!"
Mr. Merton shook his head.
"Yes, I shall; though you have hitherto disdained to exhibit any one of
the three orthodox qualifications for a mitre."
"And what are they, my lord?"
"Editing a Greek play, writing a political pamphlet, and apostatizing at
the proper moment."
"Ha, ha! your lordship is severe on us."
"Not I; I often wish I had been brought up to the Church,--famous
profession, properly understood. By Jupiter, I should have been a
capital bishop!"
In his capacity of parson, Mr. Merton tried to look grave; in his
capacity of a gentlemanlike, liberal fellow, he gave up the attempt, and
laughed pleasantly at the joke of the rising man.
CHAPTER VII.
WILL nothing please you?
What do you think of the Court?--_The Plain Dealer_.
ON one subject Aubrey found no difficulty in ascertaining Evelyn's
wishes and condition of mind. The experiment of her visit, so far as
Vargrave's hopes were concerned, had utterly failed; she could not
contemplate the prospect of his alliance, and she poured out to the
curate, frankly and fully, all her desire to effect a release from her
engagement. As it was now settled that she should return with Aubrey
to Brook-Green, it was indeed necessary to come to the long-delayed
understanding with her betrothed. Yet this was difficult, for he had so
little pressed, so distantly alluded to, their engagement, that it was
like a forwardness, an indelicacy in Evelyn to forestall the longed-for
yet dreaded explanation. This, however, Aubrey took upon himself; and
at this promise Evelyn felt as the slave may feel when the chain is
stricken off.
At breakfast, Mr. Aubrey communicated to the Mertons Evelyn's intention
to return with him to Brook-Green on the following day. Lord Vargrave
started, bit his lip, but said nothing.
Not so silent was Mr. Merton.
"Return with you! my dear Mr. Aubrey, just consider; it is impossible!
You see Miss Cameron's rank of life, her position,--so very strange; no
servants of her own here but her woman,--no carriage even! You would not
have her travel in a post-chaise such a long journey! Lord Vargrave, you
can never consent to that, I am sure?"
"Were it only as Miss Cameron's _guardian_," said Lord Vargrave,
pointedly, "I should certainly object to such a mode of performing such
a journey. Perhaps Mr. Aubrey means to perfect the project by taking two
outside places on the top of the coach?"
"Pardon me," said the curate, mildly, "but I am not so ignorant of what
is due to Miss Cameron as you suppose. Lady Vargrave's carriage, which
brought me hither, will be no unsuitable vehicle for Lady Vargrave's
daughter; and Miss Cameron is not, I trust, quite so spoiled by all your
friendly attentions as to be unable to perform a journey of two days
with no other protector than myself."
"I forgot Lady Vargrave's carriage,--or rather I was not aware that you
had used it, my dear sir," said Mr. Merton. "But you must not blame us,
if we are sorry to lose Miss Cameron so suddenly; I was in hopes that
_you_ too would stay at least a week with us."
The curate bowed at the rector's condescending politeness; and just as
he was about to answer, Mrs. Merton put in,--
"And you see I had set my heart on her being Caroline's bridesmaid."
Caroline turned pale, and glanced at Vargrave, who appeared solely
absorbed in breaking toast into his tea,--a delicacy he had never before
been known to favour.
There was an awkward pause. The servant opportunely entered with a small
parcel of books, a note to Mr. Merton, and that most blessed of all
blessed things in the country,--the letter-bag.
"What is this?" said the rector, opening his note, while Mrs. Merton
unlocked the bag and dispensed the contents: "Left Burleigh for
some months, a day or two sooner than he had expected; excuse French
leave-taking; return Miss Merton's books, much obliged; gamekeeper has
orders to place the Burleigh preserves at my disposal. So we have lost
our neighbour!"
"Did you not know Mr. Maltravers was gone?" said Caroline. "I heard so
from Jenkins last night; he accompanies Mr. Cleveland to Paris."
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Merton, opening her eyes. "What could take him to
Paris?"
"Pleasure, I suppose," answered Caroline. "I'm sure I should rather have
wondered what could detain him at Burleigh."
Vargrave was all this while breaking open seals and running his eyes
over sundry scrawls with the practised rapidity of the man of business;
he came to the last letter. His countenance brightened.
"Royal invitation, or rather command, to Windsor," he cried. "I am
afraid I, too, must leave you, this very day."
"Bless me!" exclaimed Mrs. Merton; "is that from the king? Do let me
see!"
"Not exactly from the king; the same thing though:" and Lord Vargrave,
carelessly pushing the gracious communication towards the impatient hand
and loyal gaze of Mrs. Merton, carefully put the other letters in his
pocket, and walked musingly to the window.
Aubrey seized the opportunity to approach him. "My lord, can I speak
with you a few moments?"
"Me! certainly; will you come to my dressing-room?"
CHAPTER VIII.
... THERE was never
Poor gentleman had such a sudden fortune.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: _The Captain_, Act v. sc. 5.
"MY LORD," said the curate, as Vargrave, leaning back in his chair,
appeared to examine the shape of his boots, while in reality "his
sidelong looks;" not "of love," were fixed upon his companion,--"I need
scarcely refer to the wish of the late lord, your uncle, relative to
Miss Cameron and yourself; nor need I, to one of a generous spirit,
add that an engagement could be only so far binding as both the parties
whose happiness is concerned should be willing in proper time and season
to fulfil it."
"Sir!" said Vargrave, impatiently waving his hand; and, in his irritable
surmise of what was to come, losing his habitual self-control, "I know
not what all this has to do with you; surely you trespass upon ground
sacred to Miss Cameron and myself? Whatever you have to say, let me beg
you to come at once to the point."
"My lord, I will obey you. Miss Cameron--and, I may add, with Lady
Vargrave's consent--deputes me to say that, although she feels compelled
to decline the honour of your lordship's alliance, yet if in any
arrangement of the fortune bequeathed to her she could testify to
you, my lord, her respect and friendship, it would afford her the most
sincere gratification."
Lord Vargrave started.
"Sir," said he, "I know not if I am to thank you for this information,
the announcement of which so strangely coincides with your arrival. But
allow me to say that there needs no ambassador between Miss Cameron
and myself. It is due, sir, to my station, to my relationship, to
my character of guardian, to my long and faithful affection, to all
considerations which men of the world understand, which men of feeling
sympathize with, to receive from Miss Cameron alone the rejection of my
suit."
"Unquestionably Miss Cameron will grant your lordship the interview you
have a right to seek; but pardon me, I thought it might save you both