Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume
belonging to Carminster Abbey--the place, in fact, where the Great House
stands, and there is in that no exclusion of female heirs. But the Manor
house can certainly be proved to be entailed in the male line alone,
according to what was, I believe, the tradition of the family.”
“There is no large amount of property involved, I fear,” said Mr.
Wayland.
“There is an old house, much out of repair, and a few farms worth, may
be, 200 pounds a year, a loss that will not be material to you, sir, I
hope.”
“Do you mean--?” said Aurelia, not daring to ask farther.
“I mean, my dear young lady,” said Mr. Wayland, “that your researches
have brought to light the means of doing tardy justice to your good
father.”
“His right to the Manor House is here established,” explained Mr.
Belamour. “It will not be a matter of favour of my Lady’s, but, as my
brother supposed, he ought to have been put in possession on the old
Lord’s death.”
“And Eugene will be a gentleman of estate,” cried Aurelia, joyously.
“Nor will any one be able to drive out my dear father! Oh! how happy I
am.”
Both she and Mr. Belamour spared Mr. Wayland the knowledge of my Lady’s
many broken promises, and indeed she was anxious to get back to the
_Royal York_, lest her father and sister should have returned, and think
her again vanished.
They all met at the door, and much amazed were the Major and Betty to
encounter her with her two squires. Mr. Wayland took the Major to show
him the parchments. Betty had her explanation from her sister and Mr.
Belamour.
“You actually ventured back to that dreadful house,” she said, looking
at them gratefully.
“You see what protectors I had,” said Aurelia, with a happy smile.
“Yes,” said Betty, “I have been longing to say--only I cannot,” for she
was almost choked by a great sob, “how very much we owe to you, sir. I
could say it better if I did not feel it so much.” And she held out her
hand.
“You cannot owe to me a tithe of what I owe to your sister,” said Mr.
Belamour, “and through her to you, madam. Much as nature had done for
her, never would she have been to the miserable recluse the life and
light-bringing creature she was, save for the ‘sister’ she taught me to
know and love, even before I saw her.”
A wonderful revelation here burst on Aurelia, the at least half-married
woman, and she fled precipitately, smiling to herself in ecstasy, behind
her great fan.
Betty, never dreaming of the drift of the words, so utterly out of the
reach of love did she suppose herself, replied, composedly, “Our Aurelia
is a dear good girl, and I am thankful that through all her trials she
has so proved herself. I am glad she has been a comfort to you, sir.
She---”
“And will not you complete the cure, and render the benefit lasting?”
said Mr. Belamour, who had never let go the hand she had given him in
gratitude, and now gave it a pressure that conveyed, for the first time,
his meaning.
“Oh!” she cried, trying to take it away, “your kindness and gratitude
are leading you too far, sir. A hideous old fright like me, instead of a
lovely young thing like her! It is an absurdity.”
“Stay, Miss Delavie. Remember that your Aurelia’s roses and lilies were
utterly wasted on me; I never thought whether she was beautiful save
when others raved about her. I never saw her till yesterday; but the
voice, the goodness, the amiability, in fact all that I did truly esteem
and prize in her I had already found matured and mellowed together
with that beauty of countenance which is independent of mere skin-deep
complexion and feature. You know my history, and how far I am from
being able to offer you a fresh untouched young heart, such as my nephew
brings to the fair Aurelia; but the devotion of my life will be yours if
you will accept it.”
“Sir, I cannot listen to you. You are very good, but I can never leave
my father. Oh, let me go away!”
CHAPTER XXXVII. MAKING THE BEST OF IT.
At last the Queen said, “Girl, I bid thee rise,
For now thou hast found favour in mine eyes,
And I repent me of the misery
That in this place thou hast endured me,
Altho’ because of it the Joy indeed
Shall now be mine, that pleasure is thy meed.”
MORRIS.
Those were evil times, and the court examples were most corrupting,
so that a splendid and imperious woman like Urania, Lady Belamour, had
found little aid from public opinion when left to herself by the absence
of her second husband. Selfish, unscrupulous, and pleasure-loving she
was by nature, but during Sir Jovian Belamour’s lifetime she had
been kept within bounds. Then came a brief widowhood, when debt
and difficulty hurried her into accepting Mr. Wayland, a thoughtful
scientific man, whose wealth had accumulated without much volition of
his own to an extent that made her covet his alliance. Enthralled by
her charm of manner, he had not awakened to the perception of what she
really was during the few years that had elapsed before he was sent
abroad, and she refused to accompany him.
Then it was that wealth larger than she had before commanded, and a
court appointment, involved her in more dangerous habits. Her debts,
both of extravagance and of the gaming table, were enormous, trenching
hard on the Delavie property, and making severe inroads on Mr. Wayland’s
means; but the Belamour estates being safely tied up, she had only been
able to borrow on her dower. She had sinned with a high hand, after the
fashion of the time, and then, in terror at the approaching return of
her husband, had endeavoured to conceal the ravages of her extravagance
by her bargain for her son’s hand.
The youth, bred up at a distance, and then the companion of his
step-father, had on his return found his home painfully altered in his
two years’ absence, and had been galled and grieved by the state of
things, so that even apart from the clearing of his prospects, the
relief was great. The quarrel with Colonel Mar that Mr. Wayland had
interrupted was not made up. There was no opportunity, for Mr. Wayland
at once removed his family to Bowstead, there to remain while he
transacted his business in London.
Moreover Mr. Belamour and Mr. Wayland agreed in selling the young
baronet’s commission. The Major allowed that it was impossible that he
should remain under the command of his present Colonel, but regretted
that he should not continue in the service, declaring it the best
school for a young man, and that he did not want to see his son-in-law
a muddle-brained sporting country squire. He would have had Sir Amyas
exchange into the line, and see a little service before settling down,
but Maria Theresa had not as yet set Europe in a blaze, and in the
absence of a promising war Sir Amyas did more incline to his uncle’s
representations of duties to tenants and to his county, and was even
ready to prepare himself for them when he should be of sufficient age
to undertake them. However, in the midst of the debates a new scheme was
made. Mr. Belamour had been called upon and welcomed by his old friends,
who, being men of rank and influence, had risen in life while he
was immured at Bowstead. One of these had just received a diplomatic
appointment at Vienna, and in spite of insular ignorance of foreign
manners was at a loss for a capable suite. Mr. Belamour suggested Major
Delavie, as from his long service in Austria likely to be very useful.
The Envoy caught at the idea, and the thought of once more seeing his
old comrades enchanted the Major, whose only regret was that his hero,
Prince Eugene, had been dead three years; but to visit his grave would
be something. Appointments ran in families, so that nothing could be
easier than to obtain one for the young baronet; and though Mr. Belamour
did not depend on his own health enough to accept anything, he was quite
willing to join the party, and to spend a little time abroad, while his
nephew was growing somewhat older, making an essay of his talents, and
at any rate putting off the commencement of stagnation. Thus matters
settled themselves, the only disappointed member of the family being
Mrs. Arden, who thought it very hard that she could not stir any one up
to request an appointment of her husband as chaplain--not even himself!
Mr. Wayland was at once called upon to go out to America to superintend
the defences of the Canadian frontier, and he resolved on taking his
family out, obtaining land, and settling there permanently. He would
pay all my Lady’s debts, but she should never again appear in London
society, and cruel exile as it must seem to her, he trusted that his
affection and tenderness would in time reconcile her to the new way of
life, knowing as she did that he had forgiven much that had made him
look like a crushed and sorrowful man in the midst of all the successes
and the honours he received from his country.
She remained quietly at Bowstead, and none of them saw her except her
son and the Major, to the latter of whom her husband brought a message
that she would esteem it a favour if he would come and visit her there,
the day before he returned to Carminster. Very much affected, the good
Major complied with her request, went down with Mr. Wayland and spent a
night at Bowstead.
He found that she had accepted her fate with the good grace of a woman
whose first instinct was not to make herself disagreeable. She was
rather pale, and not “made up” in any way, but exquisitely though more
simply dressed, and more beautiful than ever, her cousin thought, as
he always did whenever he came into her presence. She was one of those
people whose beauty is always a fresh surprise, and she was far more
self-possessed than he was.
“So, Cousin Harry, where am I to begin my congratulations! I did you and
unwitting service when I sent your daughter to search among those musty
old parchments. I knew my father believed in the existence of some such
document, but I thought all those hoards in Delavie House were devoid
of all legal importance, and had been sifted again and again. Besides, I
always meant to settle that old house upon you.”
“I have always heard so, cousin,” he answered.
“But it was such a mere trifle,” she added, “that it never seemed worth
while to set the lawyers to work about that alone, so I waited for other
work to be in hand.”
“There is a homely Scottish proverb, my Lady, which declares that the
scrapings of the muckle pot are worth the wee pot fu’. A mere trifle to
you is affluence to us.”
“I am sincerely rejoiced at it, Harry” (no doubt she thought she was),
“you will keep up the old name, while my scrupulous lord and master
gives up my poor patrimony to the extortionate creditors for years to
come. It is well that the young lovers have other prospects. So Harry,
you see after all, I kept my word, and your daughter is provided for,”
she continued with an arch smile. “Pretty creature, I find my son bears
me more malice than she does for the robbery that was perpetrated on
her. It was too tempting, Harry. Nature will repair her loss, but at out
time of life we must beg, borrow, or steal.”
“That was the least matter,” said the Major gravely.
“This is the reason why I wished to see you,” said my Lady, laying her
white hand on his, “I wanted to explain.”
“Cousin, cousin, had not you better leave it alone?” said Major Delavie.
“You know you can always talk a poor man out of his senses at the
moment.”
“Yet listen, Harry, and understand my troubles. Here I was pledged,
absolutely pledged, to give my son to Lady Aresfield’s daughter. I do
not know whether she may not yet sue me for breach of contract, though
Wayland has repaid her the loans she advanced me; and on the other hand,
in spite of all my precautions, Mar had obtained a sight of your