CHAPTER VII
Parlar di te non voglio, e fra le labbra
Ho sempre il nome tuo: vó dal pensiero
Cancellar quel sembiante e in ogni oggetto
Col pensier lo dipingo.
METASTASIO.
In rapid attacks of illness, like that which Harriet suffered from, there is, fortunately, no very long interval of suspense for those interested in the patient.
The next day she was much better, and the day after was able to sit up by her dressing-room fire, and talk and laugh pretty much as usual.
"Oh! by the way," said Harriet, interrupting a lively discussion upon some trifling subject, "did Mr. Gage ever condescend to enquire after me while I was ill?"
Margaret had rather feared this question, but she was obliged to reply that he had not.
Harriet seemed more disturbed by this proof of his indifference than Margaret had ever before seen her.
After a pause she said: "Did he seem—" then, suddenly interrupting herself, she exclaimed, "Pshaw! I will not stoop to enquire what he seemed. Perhaps," she added, after another pause, "I had no reason to expect any-thing else from him."
"I thought it very unkind," said Margaret.
Harriet nodded her head in acquiescence, and remained silently gazing into the fire. Once or twice she felt for her handkerchief, and drew it hastily across her eyes as if she did not wish to be observed.
"The fire makes one's eyes weak," she said at last.
Margaret agreed to it.
"Oh! by the way, how do you get on with Mr. Humphries?" said Harriet, rousing herself.
"He was always very considerate," said Margaret, "and extremely sorry for your illness."
"He is a good soul," said Harriet, "You had better think twice, before you throw him away."
"I do not throw him away," said Margaret smiling; "but I confess I have no desire to captivate him."
"He would make a very good husband, ma mie."
"I dare say," replied Margaret, "but it is all very much out of my way."
"Why you cannot mean to be single for ever," said Harriet. "I assure you I often think who I shall entrap, now that George won't have me."
"Whose fault is that?" asked Margaret.
"I detest him—I hate him from my heart!" exclaimed Harriet. "I would accept Mr. Humphries, to-morrow, or Sir Hawarth Fane, with all the readiness in the world. How dare he remain in this house, when I ordered him to leave it?"
"I told you what he said," replied Margaret.
"Is not Charlotte very late with my tea?" asked Harriet, in her usual manner.
"I think it is rather past the time," replied Margaret.
"The girl grows more careless every day," said Harriet. "I hope George does not make love to her."
"Oh! Harriet—impossible! a gentleman—"
"Why my dear," said Harriet drily, "such things have been done once or twice—it is a very wicked world; she has some nonsense in her head, I am sure, for she marked a whole set of handkerchiefs wrong for me the other day."
At this moment Charlotte came in with the tea-things, Harriet leaned over the tray, and surveyed the cups.
"Charlotte!" she exclaimed, "where is the cream jug?"
"Oh, dear, Miss Conway! I forgot it. I will bring it up in a minute."
"Charlotte!" exclaimed Harriet, with a tragic frown, "you are in love."
Charlotte gave a prodigious start, but she denied the charge.
"Oh! dear me, Miss Conway, how you can say so," she simpered. "It is only your fun. I thank goodness, I keep myself to myself."
"Very good," said Harriet, "I don't care how many hearts you break, only don't lose your own."
Charlotte thought this a famous joke—she tossed her head, laughed and disappeared.
But a few days after, while she was dressing her young mistress; after having committed a series of blunders, which were enough to try the patience of anybody, she stood quite still, and began to cry.
Harriet was very good-natured to her servants; she threw herself into a chair, stifled a strong inclination to laugh, and begged to know what was the matter.
"If you would please to speak for me, Miss Conway," sobbed the agitated Charlotte.
"Speak for you? Do you mean that you wish me to give you a character? Certainly, when you leave, if you mean to leave me. I did not know you wished to go away."
Charlotte shook her head.
"What can be the matter then, Charlotte; is my Aunt Singleton displeased with you?"
Another shake, and a burst of sobbing.
"Are you ill! You had better let me give you some medicine," said Harriet, looking for the key of her medicine chest.
"Perhaps, Miss Conway, did not know that Mr. Gage was going to leave Singleton Manor."
Harriet turned pale. No she did not know it. "When was he going?"
Charlotte knew nothing about Mr. Gage; she only knew that his horses were to set off for Chirke Weston the day after to-morrow.
"But you are hardly crying after Mr. Gage's horses," said Harriet, making a desperate effort to rally her spirits.
"Mr. Thompson!" sobbed the damsel.
"Oh! he is the objection—what have you to say against Mr. Thompson? Mr. Gage's groom, I conclude."
Mr. Thompson had made Charlotte an offer; very respectful, and very devoted, Charlotte said he was. She confessed that Mr. Thompson was not indifferent to her, but he was so much in awe of his master, that he could not muster up courage to confess his weakness.
"But why does he not give Mr. Gage warning?" asked Harriet.
"Because," Charlotte said, "Mr. Thompson had a very good salary; (Charlotte was always genteel in her language; she never hinted at wages,) and it might be a very long time before he got such another situation, and he could less afford to lose it, if he had a wife to support."
"Then, Charlotte, you must wait," said Harriet with decision; "it is no great hardship, how many ladies are obliged to wait—Mr. Gage will never suffer a married man in his service, moving as he does from place to place. You can never expect to have every thing you wish, I shall be happy to forward your interests when it is in my power, but just now it is clearly impossible."
"If you would only speak to Mr. Gage for Henry," said Charlotte, hiding her face in her apron.
"I do not believe an angel would be able to persuade him to keep a married man in his service," said Harriet, "as for me I have no influence at all with Mr. Gage—Thompson and you must wait."
"We were married this morning!" cried the waiting-woman with another torrent of tears.
Harriet felt very angry at first; and she exclaimed, "Charlotte, I am ashamed of you!" but she disliked to see people cry, and it occurred to her that it was rather a dreary method of spending one's wedding-day; so she softened down, said that she would consult with her aunt about them, and try to make the best of a bad bargain. "But I warn you," she said "that you will both lose your places, the only thing left is for us to try and find you others."
"If Miss Conway would be so good as to break the news to Mr. Gage, for Henry dared not."
"Very good," said Harriet, "I have no objection. Thompson need not be afraid that Mr. Gage would shoot him; but if he is too delicate, I will undertake it, I am not afraid of Mr. Gage. But how, in the name of goodness, Charlotte, did you become so intimate with Thompson. Living as you do in the housekeeper's room, where Aunt Singleton does not allow any of the men?"
For Mrs. Singleton had a peculiar custom of having every female servant under the eye of the housekeeper, at meals, and other leisure times; while the butler presided over the men servants, both high and low, in like manner; so that they had no business together at all in that house.
Charlotte blushing very much, said that "Mr. Gage was in the habit of sending Thompson to enquire of her how Miss Conway was, three or four times a day, during her illness; in consequence of which he was always laying in wait for her, first on his master's account, and next upon his own. So that it was Mr. Gage's fault after all."
"Beg Miss Capel to come to me," said Harriet, with sparkling eyes; "and then let Mr. Gage know that I desire the favour of his company for half a minute. But first, Mrs. Thompson, wipe your eyes if you please, or Mr. Gage will think I have been beating you."
Charlotte with a smiling face, departed upon her errand; and Harriet walked to the looking glass.
"Come, I am not so very much pulled down by my illness," said she with a smile.
Margaret came in, heard the delinquency of Charlotte with much surprise; and readily agreed to ply her worsted work in the boudoir during Mr. Gage's visit. She anticipated, with some pleasure, the scene that was about to be enacted. Harriet began to grow nervous, as he did not come directly, and turned over in her mind how she should introduce the subject—a rare occurrence with her.
At last Mr. Gage who had been found in the park, and forwarded up-stairs by the butler, made his appearance, walked calmly in, shook hands with Harriet, on the strength of her absence, and "trusted that she was recovering."
"Oh, yes, quite! I am much better, I shall be able to go to the Veseys on Thursday, Mr. Gage, which is the extent of my ambition at present."
Mr. Gage rather wondered whether she had sent for him into her own particular sitting-room to talk to him about the Veseys; but he merely remarked that he was going into Devonshire on that day, or he believed he should have joined their party, as Mrs. Vesey had been so polite as to ask him.
"Ah! so I hear," said Harriet, in a friendly tone. "How dull poor Chirke Weston will look, now they are all away."
"Dull enough," said Mr. Gage; and he sighed, thinking of his sister, and all the troubles she had gone through.
"I have not heard from Bessy, I don't know when," said Harriet.
"Nor I," said Mr. Gage. "I imagine she has not much to say."
"And writing is such a bore," said Harriet.
"A great bore," said Mr. Gage.
"I will tell you who writes a great number of letters," said Harriet. "My brother, Evan."
"And really clever ones," replied Mr. Gage.
"No! Does he ever write to you?" exclaimed Harriet.
"Now and then," said Mr. Gage. "I think he writes to Hubert more than to any of us."
The conversation had been very placid hitherto: Margaret hardly thought it could last.
There was a short pause; during which Harriet sat playing with her rings. It was such an unusual thing for Harriet to appear constrained in her manner to any one, that Mr. Gage was considerably puzzled.
Although by no means addicted to holding himself in low estimation, he did not suppose that Harriet had sent for him to make a pathetic declaration; more particularly as Margaret was present, and did not appear likely to leave the room.
"Well, Mr. Gage," said Harriet, looking up, "I heard something this morning which surprised me very much."
"Really!" said Mr. Gage, bending for wards; "I trust, nothing of an unpleasant nature?"
"Oh, yes! I was displeased too," said Harriet.
"Can I be of any service?" asked Mr. Gage, very civilly.
"Oh, dear me, George, no!" said Harriet, suddenly. "The thing is past mending. Your plague of a groom has been making love to my Charlotte, and married her this morning."
Mr. Gage never swore before ladies; though he had seldom felt more inclined to relieve his mind by that simple process. But after the angry pause of a minute, he ejaculated, with raised eyebrows, the words, "Highly impertinent!"
"And so ridiculous—so imprudent!" said Harriet; "how are they to live, I wonder?"
"Oh! Heaven knows how they are to live," said Mr. Gage, drawing his chair wonderfully near to Harriet; "that is their affair—not ours, you know."
"Our affair!" How odd the words sounded. Harriet blushed.
"I am so sorry about Charlotte," she said; "she does know how to dress hair!"
Mr. Gage cast an admiring glance upon Harriet's shining tresses, and added:
"I am sorry, too, to lose Thompson. He understands his business very well."
"It is very provoking. Such things are the last extent of folly," said Harriet.
"In that class, certainly;" said Mr. Gage.
"Well, but, George, what is to be done?" asked Harriet, suddenly.
Now, if she ever desired Mr. Gage to exert himself to the utmost in her service, she had only to call him George. The effect was cabalistic.
"I must get rid of Thompson, you see," he said, in a deprecating manner. "The man never could wander about with a wife and children at his heels."
"It is very odd how my maids always do marry," said Harriet. "One would think Aunt Singleton kept them close enough. You remember, Anne?"
Yes—he remembered Anne, perfectly; and it was very probable that Anne remembered him, for he had often given her a guinea to convey flowers and notes to her young lady's dressing-table, in the days of their early courtship.
"Well! two have actually married since Anne's time," said Harriet, in an injured tone; "and now Charlotte, whom I always did consider rather a plain woman; she must needs do just the same."
"It is too annoying," said Mr. Gage, examining the fringe of Harriet's beautiful shawl. "I am very sorry you should be so put out of your way."
"Shall you take Thompson away with you, on Thursday?" said Harriet, looking up in his face.
"Oh! I think I had better pay him off at once, and have done with him," said Mr. Gage.
"But I am interested for the bride and bridegroom," said Harriet, "I want to know what they had better do."
"Thompson should get into a gentleman's family, where his wife could be lodge-keeper," said Mr. Gage.
"I'll tell you what," said Harriet, who had observed Mr. Gage's arm on the back of her chair, and whose restless spirit delighted in mischief; "I will ask that dear Mr. Humphries to look out for such a place. I am sure he will use his best endeavours; kind, good creature that he is."
"Then you have no farther commands with me," said Mr. Gage, rising directly, and preparing to leave the room.
"Not any; only you won't be very angry with poor Thompson!" said Harriet, her eyes flashing with merriment as the door closed upon Mr. Gage.
"Come here to me, Margaret, and don't shake your head at me in that way, for I will not bear it."
CHAPTER VIII
El. Lo. Mistress, I came to see you.
Lady. That's happily dispatched—the next!
El. Lo. To take leave of you.
Lady. You need not have despaired of that, nor have used so many circumstances to win me to give you leave to perform my commands. Is there a third?
El. Lo. Yes! I had a third, had you been apt to hear it.
Lady. I? never after—Fast, good servant, fast.
El. Lo. 'Twas to intreat you to hear Reason.
Lady. Most willingly—have you brought one can speak it?
El. Lo. Lastly, it is to kindle in that barren heart Love and Forgiveness.
THE SCORNFUL LADY.
"I am sorry you are going to-morrow," said Mr. Humphries the next morning at breakfast to Mr. Gage; "I wanted you to see my Arab."
"I will ride over this morning," said Mr. Gage, "I have nothing else to do."
"He was so sick on the passage, that they did not think he would have lived," said Mr. Humphries, turning to Margaret. "He's better now."
"Poor creature! I didn't know horses were ever sea-sick," said Margaret.
"They are wonderful animals," said Harriet, "I wish somebody would write a novel about a horse."
"You used to be so fond of horses," said Mr. Singleton.
"So I am, comparatively," said Harriet, glancing around at the gentlemen present.
Margaret had often a hard matter to preserve her gravity, but now she was vexed with Harriet, who had employed herself ever since she came down stairs in petting Mr. Humphries, on purpose to pique Mr. Gage. She offered him cream and sugar; she gave him advice about his diet; showed him the best way to eat a smelt; fussed about his toast; and took more trouble to make him comfortable, than she had ever done with anybody before.
Mr. Singleton, from his partiality to Mr. Humphries, took it all in good part; but Mr. Gage looked very cloudy. He rose as soon as possible and left the table, and walked up and down the room, keeping his eyes fixed upon Mr. Humphries and Harriet.
Harriet rose and looked about among the dishes.
"You can tell me, Mr. Humphries," she said, "what is the best thing I can give my terrier. He only eats twice a day, and I never let him touch raw meat."
"Oh! I don't know—I—it does not matter what you give him," said Mr. Humphries.
"A slice of this cold beef then," said Harriet, "will you cut it for me?"
Mr. Humphries complied; nearly cut his own hand, as might have been expected, but succeeded in getting off a slice.
"A little bit more," said Harriet, looking coaxingly at him.
"Oh! upon my word, that is plenty!" said Mr. Humphries.
"No, just one little bit," said Harriet stretching out the plate.
Mr. Humphries laughed awkwardly and cut it.
"You will spoil your dog, you know," he said.
During this little bit of coquetry, on her part, Mr. Gage had been increasing in rage, but she passed close to him without seeming to be aware of his presence, and left the room.
Her dog was fastened up in a small summer-room that looked into the garden, because it had a fancy for quarrelling with one of Mr. Humphries' spaniels that he had brought with him.
Harriet unfastened the little sinner, and it bounded up and down like a ball. She put the plate on a ledge under the window, and began to cut the meat into small pieces. While she was thus employed, Mr. Gage came abruptly into the room, and stood before her.
"Take care of the dog," said Harriet, stooping down, and catching Donald by the collar; "he is apt to snap at strangers."
"Strangers!" exclaimed Mr. Gage, in great indignation. "This from you, Harriet! But you have deceived me—made me wretched long enough. It is well that all is at an end!"
Harriet stood up. To do her justice, she tried to look as grave as she could, though she had a great inclination to laugh.
"I did not give you credit, Sir, for knowing so much of your profession," she said, coolly; "you have learned, I see, that it is a better plan to attack than to defend."
"I—what have I to defend?" said Mr. Gage. "Can you deny that you long made me believe you were going to be married to Lord Raymond?"
"Really, Mr. Gage," said Harriet, "your remarks are very original; unexpected, at least. I believe, for a long time we have had as little confidential communication as any two persons in the world. People were at liberty to conjecture what they pleased from Lord Raymond's intimacy with my family."
"People!" echoed Mr. Gage, highly offended at being thus classed with the multitude.
"Men, women and children!" said Harriet, very contentedly, and turning to the window ledge, she began to give Donald his dinner.
Mr. Gage's indignation was now at its height; but he endeavoured to veil it under an appearance of great calmness. Harriet, as cool as himself, went on mincing Donald's cold beef.
At last he said, that if it was not taxing her memory too far, he should be glad to know her motive for allowing Lord Raymond to be recognized as her lover; had she preferred Lord Raymond, he should have respected the feeling, although he should not, certainly, have thought very highly of her taste.
"As that preference has been entirely a little fancy of your own," said Harriet, with spirit; "I think it not worth while to defend my taste on an imaginary point."
"Still," said Mr. Gage, "you suffered me to remain in error on a subject which you well knew to be of great importance to my happiness."
"As I am not appointed guardian to your happiness, Mr. Gage," said Harriet, with mock civility, "I do not feel any remorse upon that point. If you chose to compliment my taste, by inventing an attachment between me and a remarkably attractive man, I will take this opportunity, if you please, of returning you my best thanks."
Mr. Gage looked still more stormy, but he seemed determined, in popular phrase, to "have his say out."
"You never were attached to Lord Raymond then?" he said.
"Never, as it happened," returned Harriet, with great indifference.
"Then why give me to understand—" Mr. Gage began.
"Stop there!" said Harriet, "don't ring the changes, my good friend, upon your misapprehension. I was not likely to tell you, of all people, my family secrets. Lord Raymond was always on an intimate footing with me. I could not remove the confusion in his affairs, nor help his mother dying at the wrong time: and these were the only things that prevented his marriage with Lucy from taking place earlier."
"You knew when I was at Chirke Weston," said Mr. Gage, "that my feelings towards you had undergone no change, and yet you not only suffered me to be in an error, but you encouraged my belief that you were engaged to that man to the utmost of your power."
"Well," said Harriet, "I am not going to tell any lies. Perhaps, I did. I was rather amused to see you making a blunder."
"You confess it," said Mr. Gage; "and now you are acting the same part with that wretched idiot, Humphries; though you still see that I cannot forget you, as I wish to Heaven I could."
"Poor dear Mr. Humphries!" said Harriet, leaning against the window, and, throwing the pieces of meat slowly to her dog, "he is to be called an idiot, because I am commonly civil to my uncle's guests."
"I suppose I am not to be considered as your uncle's guest?" said Mr. Gage.
"Not when you behave so ill," returned Harriet.
"I—what have I done?" asked Mr. Gage.
"Recollect the ball, Sir!" said Harriet; "remember how you tricked me into dancing with you."
Mr. Gage smiled a little. "Allow that you brought it on yourself," said he. "You could not dance with Sir Hawarth."
"Could not?" asked Harriet. "I imagine I have every right to please myself in such things. Besides, you have been very rude to me ever since you came; and did not leave the house when I desired you."
"You know that it was impossible," said Mr. Gage; "besides, I gave you my reasons for not obeying you."
"I did not want any reasons," said Harriet.
"I believe you," said Mr. Gage; "but Miss Capel was evidently on my side then, as well as at the ball. I wish you would speak to her on the subject. I never met any woman with more delicacy of feeling."
"It is a pity you don't marry her, then, if you think so highly of her;" said Harriet, perversely.
"I did not come here to marry Miss Capel, but to marry you," replied Mr. Gage, coldly.
The deepest carmine colour flew into Harriet's face, but she still remained pelting her dog with the little pieces of meat. Mr. Gage stood waiting to hear what she would say.
"Ah! but George, do you mean it?" said Harriet, looking up archly in his face.
"Do I mean it?" asked Mr. Gage; "when I give you the power of rejecting my hand again."
This was so characteristic of the degree of estimation in which Mr. Gage held himself, that Harriet burst into a prolonged peal of laughter.
"Well, then, George," said she, holding out her hand.
"Well, then, Harriet," he replied, clasping it.
"But I tell you what," said Harriet, as she was leaving the room, "you may go and make your own story good to my Uncle Singleton, for if you think I shall take all that trouble, you will find yourself very much mistaken."
The next report current in the house was that Mr. Gage's horses were not going to Chirke Weston; and the presumption, therefore, was, that their master had determined to prolong his stay at Singleton Manor.