The ghost of Charlotte Cray, and other stories
pusillanimity which could permit him to give up the woman he had sworn
to marry because his father ordered him to do so. No! filial obedience
carries very little weight with the heart that is pitted against it;
and as I thought of it and him, I bit my lip, dashed my hand across my
eyes, and hoped the day might yet come when I should be able to show
Bruce Armytage how greatly I despised him.
At this juncture the housemaid came bustling into the room with a
little note for me--a dear little cocked-hat note--which seemed to
speak of something pleasant, and at the writer of which I had no need
to guess, for I had but one friend in Rockledge who ever sent such
notes to me.
“Waiting for an answer,” said the bearer curtly; and I tore it open
and devoured its contents.
“Dear Lizzie,--I think you will be _very much_ surprised to hear
that your little friend Amy is engaged to be married! However, it is
quite true, although the business was only settled this morning; and
the young gentleman has promised to spend the evening with us, and to
bring a cousin whom he is anxious to introduce. Will you come and take
tea with us also? The doctor has only just told me that Lady
Cunningham dines out to-night, or I should have sent before. Do come,
Lizzie. Amy is crazy to see you and tell you all her secrets, and you
know that you are always sure of a welcome from your affectionate
friend,
“Mary Rodwell.”
The perusal of this little epistle threw me into a perfect whirl of
excitement and delight, which would have appeared extraordinary to any
one who had not been acquainted with the maddening monotony of my
daily existence. These Rodwells, the family of the good old doctor who
attended Lady Cunningham, were my only friends in Rockledge, the only
people with whom I ever caught a glimpse of a happy domestic life,
such as had been once my own. To spend the evening at their large,
old-fashioned house, which rang from basement to attic with the sound
of happy voices, was the only dissipation by which my days were ever
varied, and a relaxation all the more precious because, on account of
Lady Cunningham’s requirements, it came so rarely to me. And on the
afternoon in question, when I had allowed myself to become absorbed by
fanciful thought, the cordial and unexpected invitation warmed my
chilled spirits like a draught of generous wine. All things seemed
changed for me: I no longer saw the grey fog nor remembered my
mournful past, but in their stead pictured to myself the
brightly-lighted, crimson-curtained room at Dr. Rodwell’s house, and
heard the ringing laughter and merry jests of his many boys and girls.
In a moment I had shaken off my despondency--my eyes sparkled, my
heart beat: I was in a flutter of anticipation at the pleasure in
store for me.
“Is there any answer, miss?” demanded the housemaid, who had been
waiting whilst I read my note.
“Yes, yes; I will go, of course. Say I will be there in half-an-hour,”
I replied, for my evening, in consequence of Lady Cunningham’s
absence, was at my own disposal. “And, Mary, please bring me up a jug
of hot water; I am going to take tea with Mrs. Rodwell.”
“Well, I’m very glad of it, miss; it’s a shame you shouldn’t have a
holiday oftener than you do,” returned my sympathising hearer as she
departed with my answer.
I must say that, during my years of servitude, I had nothing to
complain of respecting the treatment I received from the hands of
servants. I have read of needy companions and governesses being
cruelly insulted and trampled on by their inferiors; I never was. From
the first they saw I was a gentlewoman, and to the last they treated
me as such.
With a hasty vote of thanks to Mary for her kind speech, I ran
upstairs to my own bedroom to make the few preparations needful for my
visit. I knew that Mrs. Rodwell would not desire me to dress; but to
arrange my hair anew with a blue ribbon woven in it, and to change my
dark merino body for a clear muslin Garibaldi, made me look fresh and
smart, without taking up too much of the precious time I had to spend
at her house. Besides, were there not to be some gentlemen present? At
that thought my mind reverted to the wonderful news of Amy’s
engagement, and I could scarcely proceed with my toilet for thinking
of it. Little Amy! younger by five years than myself, who had always
appeared so shy and modest and retiring--was it possible she could
have had a lover without my knowing it? And now to be actually
engaged! going to be married at her age! It almost seemed incredible,
until I remembered with a sudden sigh that I had been no older myself
when Bruce Armytage proposed to me, and had been able to keep my
secret very well until the necessity for doing so was over.
But I would not let such thoughts engross me now, for I had no wish to
carry a long face to Mrs. Rodwell’s house; and so I hurried on the
remainder of my things, and wrapping myself up warmly in a dark cloak,
hurried bravely out into the evening air. It was then six o’clock, and
the fog was denser than before; but what cared I for outer dullness
any longer? My imagination ran on before me, vividly picturing the
cheerful scene in which I should so soon mingle, and my feet tripped
after it joyous as my heart. I had not far to go, and my eagerness
shortened the way; so that in a few minutes, I was rapping at Dr.
Rodwell’s hall door and scraping my feet upon his scraper. How quickly
it was opened by little Amy herself! And what a mixture of
bashfulness, pleasure, and self-importance was in her blushing face as
I threw my arms around her neck and warmly congratulated her.
“Come upstairs, Lizzie,” she entreated in a whisper; “come up and take
off your things, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
We were soon in her own room--that cozy room in which she and her
younger sister Mattie slept, and which bore so many evidences of their
mother’s tender care and thought for them.
“And so you are really engaged to be married, Amy?” I exclaimed as the
door closed behind us. “That was a very astounding piece of
intelligence to me, who had never heard the faintest whisper of such a
thing before.”
“You forget you have not been near us for a month,” she answered,
laughing; “but the truth is, Lizzie, it was all so uncertain till this
morning that mamma said it would be very unwise to mention it to
anybody; so that you were the first recipient of the news, after all.”
“Well, I suppose I must be satisfied with that; and when did you meet
him, Amy?”
“Last month, up in London, while I was staying with my Aunt
Charlesworth.”
“And is it a settled thing, then?”
“Oh yes! His parents have consented, and are coming to Rockledge on
purpose to call on us. And--and--_he_ came down this morning to tell
papa; and I believe we are to be married in the spring.”
“So soon?” I ejaculated, thinking how easily some people’s courtships
ran.
“Yes,” replied Amy, blushing; “and he is here this evening, you know,
with his cousin, who is staying at Rockledge with him. He talked so
much about this cousin, but oh! he is not _half_ so nice-looking as
himself; and--and--I hope you will like him, Lizzie dear,” kissing me
affectionately as she spoke, “for I have told him so much about you.”
“I am sure I shall, Amy,” I replied as I returned her caress; we were
on the staircase at the time, descending to the dining-room. “I assure
you I am quite impatient to see your hero. By-the-bye, dear, what is
his name?”
“Armytage.” And then, seeing my blank look of amazement, she repeated
it--“Armytage. Have you never heard the name before? I think it’s such
a pretty one. Amy Armytage,” she whispered finally in my ear, as,
laughing merrily, she pushed me before her into the dining-room.
It was all done so suddenly that I had no time to think about it, for
before the echo of her words had died away, I was in the midst of the
family group, being warmly kissed by Mrs. Rodwell, and Mattie, and
Nelly, and Lotty, and shaken hands with by the dear, kind old doctor,
and his rough school-boys.
“Well, Lizzie dear,” exclaimed my motherly hostess, as she claimed me
for a second embrace, “this is quite an unexpected treat, to have you
here to-night; I thought we were never going to see you again. But you
look pale, my child; I am afraid you are kept too much in the house.
Doctor, what have you been about, not to take better care of Lizzie?
You should give her a tonic, or speak to Lady Cunningham on the
subject.”
But the good old doctor stuck both his fingers into his ears.
“Now, I’m not going to have any talk about pale looks or physic
bottles to-night,” he said; “the time for doctoring to-day is over.
Miss Lizzie, you just come and sit between Tom and me, and we’ll give
you something that will beat all the tonics that were ever invented.
Here, Mattie, pass the scones and oatcakes down this way, will you? If
you children think you are going to keep all the good things up at
your end of the table, you are very much mistaken,” and with no gentle
touch my hospitable friend nearly pulled me down into his own lap.
“Now, doctor!” exclaimed Mrs. Rodwell, with an affectation of
annoyance, “I will not have you treat my guests in this way. Lizzie
has come to see _me_, not _you_, and she sits by no side but mine.
Besides, you have not even given me time to introduce the gentlemen to
her. Lizzie, my dear, we must all be friends here this evening. Mr.
Bruce Armytage, Mr. Frederick Armytage--Miss Lacy. And now, doctor,
we’ll go to tea as soon as you please.”
I had known from the moment of my entering the room that there were
strangers in it, but I had not dared to glance their way. Amy’s
announcement of her lover’s name had come too unexpectedly to permit
me to form any fixed idea upon the subject, excepting that it was the
same as mine had borne, and yet, when Mrs. Rodwell repeated it with
the familiar prefix, strange to say, I seemed to hear it with no
second shock, but to have known the bitter truth all along.
Not so, however, Bruce Armytage; for Mrs. Rodwell’s introduction was
scarcely concluded before I heard his voice (unforgotten through the
lapse of years) exclaim, “Miss Lacy!” in a tone of surprise, which
could not but be patent to all.
Cold and pulseless as I had felt before, the mere tones of his voice
sent the blood rushing from my heart to my head, till the room and the
tea-table and the group of living figures swam before my dazzled eyes.
I felt my weakness, but I determined all the more that no one else
should guess at it, and mentally stamped upon my heart to make it
steady against the moment when its energies should be required.
“You have met Mr. Armytage before, Lizzie?” said Mrs. Rodwell, with a
pleasant astonishment.
Then I lifted my eyes and looked at him. Good God! What is the vital
force of this feeling, called love, which Thou hast given to us, far
oftener to prove a curse than a blessing, that after years of
separation, coldness, and neglect, it has the strength to spring up
again, warm and passionate as ever, at the sight of a face, the tone
of a voice, or the touch of a hand? Has nothing the power to trample
life out of it? Will it always revive when we think it most dead, and
turn its pale mutilated features up to the glare of day? Shall our
mortal dust, even when confined in the mould, stir and groan and
vainly strive to make itself heard, as the step of one whom we have
loved passes sorrowfully over the fresh grass beneath which we lie?
I lifted up my eyes, and looked upon Bruce Armytage, to be able to say
truly if I had met him before. Yes, it was he, but little altered
during our five years of separation, excepting that he had passed from