CHAPTER IX
Prin. We are wise girls to work our lovers so,
So, portent-like, would I o'ersway his state
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
"You are not going away on Saturday," said Harriet the next morning to Margaret, who was sitting with a letter in her hand, "do not think it. I have made up my mind that you spend Christmas here."
"Rather hard upon Miss Capel," said Mr. Gage, "considering that you will not be here at Christmas."
"Well, I don't know where I am likely to be, if not here," said Harriet; "I think there is some derangement in that family," she added, indicating Mr. Gage by a movement of her head:—"He is like the man in 'Nicholas Nickleby,' he insists upon marrying people, and I am his present object; it will go off, you know. Your turn will come next, Margaret, my dear."
"You are so provoking, Harriet," said Margaret, trying in vain to look grave.
"But why should you go back to this Mrs. Fitzpatrick?" said Harriet.
"Because she is so lonely, Harriet. I told you she had lost her daughter; and I have already been here a long time."
"But supposing we are both foolish enough to keep in the same mind, and marry on the 18th, I shall want you to be bridesmaid," said Harriet.
"I would, gladly," said Margaret, "but I know Mrs. Fitzpatrick really wants me; and I decide in her favour, because you are happy and well, and she is so desolate alone."
"It would give us both so much pleasure if you could stay," said Mr. Gage lowering his newspaper.
"I wonder who he includes so familiarly with himself," said Harriet, "I think it must be Thompson; he is very intimate with his groom. Won't you stay to oblige Thompson?"
Margaret laughing, protested "that she really could not."
Mr. Gage wondered how Harriet could be so ridiculous.
"Thompson and Charlotte are forgiven for the present," said Harriet. "I wondered what made George so very lenient; it seems that he had it in view to commit a similar folly, and that reminds me I must learn to smoke again."
"Oh! do not, Harriet."
"My dear, it is in self-defence; unless, indeed, I break off the match. He lives in a barrack. I dare say his room is not half the size of my uncle's kennel: there he sits with all his intimate friends, smoking till the place is like a lime kiln; if I cannot join them, what is to become of me? Mr. Gage, have you a cigar about you? I will lose no time in learning the art again."
Mr. Gage not noticing the last part of the speech, said "he did not suppose it to be a very likely thing that he should permit his wife to live in a barrack."
"Ah!" said Harriet shaking her head, "I have a conviction, a presentiment, that I shall live in the little lime-kiln we were speaking of. Uncle Singleton always said that would be my fate. And if it was not for the bracelet-watch which George is having made for me, I assure you it weighs so heavily on my spirits, that I would never speak to him again. Just look behind the newspaper, my dear, and see if he is crying."
Mr. Gage dropped the newspaper, and laughed without restraint, but he told Harriet that "she had now effectually frightened Miss Capel from ever coming to see her, when she was settled."
"Oh! I have provided against that;" said Harriet, "I don't know at all what Mr. Gage's plans are; but for myself, I mean to go to Wardenscourt early in the summer. Now I must have you solemnly promise, that directly I summon you, you will instantly join me there. You know Mrs. Fitzpatrick is connected with Lord Raymond, so that if she is invited, I suppose she will make no scruple of accepting; then we will really enjoy ourselves."
"I should like it very much," said Margaret.
"And you promise?"
"Yes, I do, indeed."
Margaret's approaching departure was a source of regret to every one. Harriet told her that they looked upon her as a kind of hostage for her own good behaviour, and that she had some ideas of the same kind herself. She was sure that she should do something outrageous when she was deprived of Margaret's overlooking eye. That neither she, nor Mr. Gage had at all made up their minds, and that she knew there would be a violent quarrel as soon as Margaret was out of the house.
Margaret thought, and said that if Mr. Gage meant to quarrel he would have begun already, for there was not a single means of aggravation that Harriet had left untried ever since her engagement with him.
Sometimes she affected to consider the engagement as a delusion of his own; sometimes she told Margaret that they had agreed to feign it as long as he stayed at Singleton Manor, in order to amuse him; at other times, she said, it was all very well while the fancy lasted, but that George would change his mind in a day or two, and so save her the trouble of formally breaking it off.
Mr. Gage took refuge in the newspaper from all these attacks, and did not seem to think it worth while to be ruffled. Mr. Humphries was constantly at the house during the few last days of Margaret's stay. He looked very sorrowful, but his attempts to propitiate her were confined to a variety of strange faces, and gestures, which to say the truth, she was too much occupied to remark. None regretted her so much as Mrs. Singleton; she had been so attentive to all her wants, and so skilful in making the old lady hear, that she felt in losing Margaret that she was parting with a luxury she could ill afford to do without.
Mason shed some silent tears when she received her orders to pack up. Whether they were on her own, or her young lady's account, she did not explain. She did say while she was packing the trinket-box, that a very general notion had prevailed in the housekeeper's room, that Ixworth—Mr. Humphries' place of residence—was shortly to have a mistress; and she believed it was never supposed likely that Miss Conway would be requested to fill that situation; not, she wished to observe, that any opinion prevailed derogatory to Miss Conway's charms, as might be proved by the circumstance that Mr. Gage had made her an offer—a very difficult and very high gentleman—but she had never heard any harm of Mr. Humphries, and no one in the whole country, she believed, could say any-thing to his disadvantage, which she thought a great thing in favour of a young gentleman with so many clear thousands a-year. That Mr. Humphries' gentleman had remarked, the night that they had all made a party to go to the play at T–, that Mr. Humphries seemed to him to be rather low; and that the butler, who was considered literary, had observed, that "the course of true love never did run smooth;" that the company had not taken the liberty to mention any names, but that she could not deny that several of the party had looked as if they knew the cause of Mr. Humphries' lowness, and of the butler's quotation.
Harriet actually cried when it came to taking leave of Margaret, and between her sobs, affected to be very angry with Mr. Gage that he did not follow her example.
Mr. Gage made a polite speech, of course, and felt it too, which is not the case, with all polite speeches.
Margaret renewed her promise of going to Wardenscourt, twice in the library, and once at the hall door, whither her warm-hearted friend followed her; and then the carriage started from the door.
"Ah! there is poor Mr. Humphries," said Mason, as they swept out of the shrubberies.
Margaret looked up, and beheld the gentleman in question, leaning on a gate with his handkerchief in his hand. There was no time for a bow, so she passed him without his having the comfort of knowing that she had seen him.
They arrived late in the evening at Mrs. Fitzpatrick's. The musical dash of the sea, and the scent of the air, warned Margaret their near approach to home.
Her friend was delighted to receive her back. She had felt her absence more than she had cared to acknowledge in her letters, for fear of interfering with the pleasure of her visit.
Each had much to tell the other, though of a very different kind; and Margaret had several times to repeat the fact that she came back single-hearted. So strange did it seem to Mrs. Fitzpatrick, that her faultless beauty should not have been successfully sought before this.
A slight discrepancy between Mason's and Miss Capel's account made Mrs. Fitzpatrick rather suspicious, and many weeks elapsed, before she could give up the idea that a certain Mr. Humphries was likely to make his appearance at her cottage to conclude the preliminaries already entered into, of a marriage between himself and her beautiful guest.
Meanwhile, Margaret was busy ordering a handsome, gold Châtelaine, or Equipage, for Harriet; she drew the pattern, she corresponded almost daily with the jeweller; she knew no rest until it was finished according to her wish.
It so happened that Harriet had not seen one of these useful toys. It arrived the day before her marriage, and she was delighted beyond measure. In a few days, Margaret received a letter thanking her a thousand times for her beautiful gift, and saying that she had deferred writing till she could inform her that she was actually married, a circumstance of which she had entertained great doubts until she found herself at the church-door, when she supposed that even Mr. Gage could not well retract. That she begged Margaret to notice that a blot on the paper was of his making; that they were going leisurely through Wales, previous to embarking for Dublin, and that it was with the sincerest regret that she found herself obliged to sign her letters "Harriet Gage."
CHAPTER X
Still the clouds gather, still must fear and doubt
Unwelcome partners, page her weary footsteps,
Shall not time draw these curtains?
ANON.
Time sped on at the Cottage as smoothly as it had done before Margaret left it. The spring came sooner than she could have believed; the beautiful early summer followed. She was out almost all day, rambling by the sea-side, working in the garden, visiting the poor. She heard at intervals from Elizabeth, and so traced her progress through the Italian States. At length, she said that her father and herself had it in contemplation to return to England in June; and that they had been very earnestly pressed by Lord and Lady Raymond to come at once to Wardenscourt. That her father inclined to this plan, and that for herself "all places were alike to her." This was the only intimation she gave that her loss still preyed upon her mind. "If she decided upon this plan," she added, "she hoped to have Margaret to meet her." A letter from Harriet followed this, very shortly. She stated that she had arrived at Wardenscourt three days ago, that Lady Raymond had written by the same post an invitation to Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and that both that lady and Margaret were expected at Wardenscourt in three days' time. She said that Captain Gage and his daughter were on their road home, and that Bessy counted upon meeting Margaret when she came to England.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick was well contented to go. Margaret could not refuse; her heart sank, now that the time came, when she thought that Mr. Haveloc's estate was at no great distance from Wardenscourt; and that if he were not abroad, she might possibly be exposed to the chance of meeting him. When Harriet talked of her visit as a distant thing, she had fancied she could have borne it very well. Of course this agreeable prospect was kept to herself, and she tried to express a good deal of pleasure at the idea of the journey. They performed it in one day; there was no hardship in early rising those fine summer mornings, and it was not six o'clock when they arrived at Wardenscourt. The grounds were spacious and highly cultivated; the house rather too new for Margaret's taste. In front, there was a white portico built in with the house, and filled with plants; on the other side, a long verandah, the floor of which was raised by a flight of steps to a level with the drawing-room windows. Lady Raymond was in this verandah among her plants, and with her, a bold-eyed woman, who stared hard at the new comers, and then flung herself out of the verandah and into the shrubberies, much as if they had been lepers. "My friend, Lady James Deacon;" said Lucy, after she had welcomed them, "the sweetest woman—when you know her."
Margaret thought it almost a pity she was so careful to hide the sweetness she might possess; and she thought, with a smile, of the caustic remarks that Harriet would be likely to make upon her manner.
"Harriet is out riding with Mr. Gage," said Lucy turning to Margaret, "do wait here till she comes in; she will be so delighted to see you. But for you, dear Mrs. Fitzpatrick," she said, again taking her hand, "I should recommend, do you know, an hour's complete rest, before you dress for dinner."
Mrs. Fitzpatrick thought her advice very kind and excellent, and went up to her room. Margaret remained with Lady Raymond. In a few minutes, Harriet and Mr. Gage rode up to the steps. Harriet dismounted hastily, and ran up into the verandah.
"She is looking very well, is she not?" said Lucy.
She looked brilliant, in perfect health, excited by exercise, the red and white of her fine complexion more intense; the dark hue of her chestnut hair, defining the oval contour of her forehead and cheeks. She sprang forward to greet Margaret, as warmly affectionate as ever.
"And you, ma mie—I wish I could say every thing I want at once. Lucy, love, the Sedleys were not at home; I say, George. Well, if he is not looking at the chestnut's fore foot! I never knew such a fidget about horses. George! how polite you are to Miss Capel."
"Miss Capel!" said Mr. Gage, coming up quickly into the verandah, "I am heartily glad to see you again."
His manner was so much more blunt and frank than before—he reminded her so strongly of Captain Gage, that she was quite astonished.
"Ah, how I have improved him!" said Harriet, who had been watching Margaret's countenance.
Mr. Gage laughed, and told Harriet that she had nearly lamed her chestnut, and might be satisfied with her morning's work.
Harriet took off her hat, and sat down with her back to him, saying, that what she had marred, he might mend; he was good for nothing else.
Her voice, her face, so full of happiness, contradicted her words.
Mr. Gage went out to look after the horses, which were equally beloved by both of them.
Lady Raymond, coming up to her sister, stood arranging her hair, which was slightly ruffled by her hat.
"Well, Mrs. Gage, you took your time this morning," she said; "you find Mr. Gage's company very agreeable, I conclude; since you certainly give me but little of yours. Always, I assure you, my dear Miss Capel, rambling about with Mr. Gage."
Margaret smiled at Harriet, who looked half bashful, half mischievous.
"It is very well it has turned out so tolerably," said she; "because I always tell George that you had a great hand in bringing things about."
"But you are quite happy, Harriet?"
"Yes; pretty comfortable. George really did take a house for me—a very pretty house. So that when he is obliged to leave Dublin, I shall let him go, and remain behind; for I like the society very much."
"How independently she talks," said Lucy, laughing.
"George has so many faults," pursued Harriet; "I fancy sometimes he must be jealous. If you knew the trouble I had to get any of his brother officers introduced to me. I only know two—such sweet young men! One of them plays the cornopean admirably, and the other makes the most excellent toffy."
"Might I ask what toffy is?" enquired Margaret.
"It is made, my love, by boiling treacle and sugar," replied Harriet.
"Oh, and lemon-peel!" said Lady Raymond.
"No; almonds," replied Harriet; "that was the way we made it one morning when George was gone to a steeple-chase; and when he came back he could not think what made everything so sticky. That is the only objection to the compounding of toffy. You still like Mrs. Fitzpatrick, Margaret?" she said, turning to her with much softness of expression.
"Very much! I am truly attached to her," replied Margaret.
"I am glad of it. No doubt she is a delightful person," said Harriet. "But you are not going to be an old maid. I have my wits about me; and I will take any bet that any body pleases to offer, you don't go back single. Everard Gage comes here this very day, does not he, Lucy?"
"Yes; but Everard—" said Lady Raymond.
"I know he will be as hard to rouse as a polar bear," said Harriet; "but I pique myself on doing wonders."
"But pray, Harriet, not for me," said Margaret. "Do not disturb Mr. Everard's tranquillity on my account."
"The best match decidedly about this neighbourhood is Mr. Haveloc, of Tynebrook," said Lady Raymond, laughing. "I strongly recommend him to Miss Capel's notice; and though he is at present in London, he is soon expected to return. Lord Raymond likes him extremely."
"Didn't I meet him at Chirke Weston, Margaret?" asked Harriet.
"I think you did," replied Margaret.
"Ay! you were too young then, or else it was really much neglect on your part—staying in the very house," said Harriet. "You will have it all to begin again."
This was very pleasant, certainly, to have two kind friends planning to throw Margaret and Mr. Haveloc together as much as possible.
Margaret faintly entreated that Harriet would make no matches for her; that she preferred remaining single, and, that strange as the fancy was, she begged to be indulged in it.
"But about Mr. Haveloc," said Lady Raymond, drawing her chair close into the window. "As Mrs. Fitzpatrick is up stairs, I will tell you such a romantic story about him. You know Mrs. Fitzpatrick had a very lovely daughter. Well; Mr. Haveloc was devotedly attached to her; it was all settled—they were going to be married, when she fell into a rapid decline, and died. Raymond saw him there, and said—" Here Lady Raymond expressed Lord Raymond's sayings by lifting up her hands and eyes, and dropping them both together; "and I think that it was which made Mr. Haveloc rather religious."
"Is he religious?" asked Harriet, pulling the leaves carelessly from a geranium.
"Oh, I think so!" returned Lady Raymond, "he has been building schools on his estate; and is wild now about repairing a church—to be sure it is the family church, where all the old monuments are—the Crusaders, and even the Danish sea-king, they say. Harriet, remind me that we take Miss Capel to see the church at Tynebrook to-morrow, if it is fine. He has been laying down a tessellated pavement, and putting in stained-glass windows, and such an altar cloth! I am told there was never any-thing so beautiful; but I have not been yet, because it is a bad carriage road, except in summer."
"Well, what an odd fancy," said Harriet, winding her riding whip round her fingers. "I always thought he was a moonshiny sort of a person. I suppose he was engrossed by Miss Fitzpatrick when I saw him. You know people gave him to Bessy about that time."
"So I remember; it was the first thing almost that I heard of him," said Margaret.
"Shall we dress, pet?" asked Harriet, fondly passing her arm round Margaret's waist; "we can come down and have a gossip before the people collect for dinner."
Margaret assented, and Harriet left the room with Lady Raymond.
Margaret stood for a few minutes leaning against the window, trying to compose herself, or to appear composed. "Shall I never be wise or womanly?" she asked herself, "shall I never bear to hear his name mentioned without such a pang as I now feel? Is this, as one sometimes reads, to embitter my whole life—this wretched mistake? It is too severe a penalty for my folly! How can I meet him calmly, if I am thus agitated by the very narrative of circumstances that I have long known, and long made up my mind to forget?"
But as thinking did not seem likely to make matters better, Margaret roused herself, and went up stairs to dress. She was quite startled to find Mrs. Fitzpatrick in her room, in her black velvet, ready for dinner.
"I am late—am I not?" said she, coming up to her chair, and taking her hand.
"Not early, my dear, but you will find time enough, you are always so rapid."
Mason set to work directly; Mrs. Fitzpatrick sat beside the toilet, talking.
At last, Margaret, who had scarcely replied, turned her head round, and said, "How long do we stay here?"
"How long, my dear? Why, we have but just arrived," said her friend with a smile.
"True," said Margaret, "there is no reason; only I do not feel very well."
"The journey, perhaps," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, kindly, "we must see what a night's rest will do for you; but do not talk of going away, for I have made up my mind that you enjoy yourself very much."
Margaret smiled sadly, and accompanied her friend into the drawing-room. It was already lighted up, and the scented air of the warm summer evening, struggled in through the closed curtains. The guests were standing and sitting in groups, talking and laughing. Lord Raymond on the hearth-rug.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick and Margaret were presented to him, and he received them with kindness.
"You remember Miss Capel, at Chirke Weston, my dear, don't you," said Lucy.
Lord Raymond did not—but he said he did, and asked her, "if she left all her friends well in that part of the world."
Harriet came close to Lord Raymond, and whispered something in his ear, which made him laugh; and then seizing hold of Margaret, she exclaimed to some one reclining almost at full length in an easy chair: "Everard—wake up! this is Miss Capel!"
Margaret blushed crimson; the person addressed, who appeared to be in the last stage of exhaustion, forced himself into a sitting posture, smiled favourably on Margaret without speaking, stared; and sank back again.
"What a wretch he is," said Harriet, standing quite close to him while she made her remarks, "does he not look like a great wax doll, perfectly well dressed. He ought to be tired, because he came a good many miles by railroad to-day, and as much as seven or eight more in a post-chaise from the terminus. Miss Capel has travelled farther than you to-day, Everard."
"Ah!" said the person appealed to. At that moment, he was directed to take Miss Capel to dinner, which great exertion he underwent. Harriet, on the other side, allowed him but little peace. She contrived to make the most provoking demands on his memory and his descriptive powers, neither of which were particularly vivid. She would ask how far it was from Halifax to Quebec? What the falls of Niagara looked like? How many miles an hour one could go in a sledge? All these questions were easily despatched by the words: I don't know—I can't tell—I forget. And then a slight pause, while Harriet ate her dinner; but as she ate little, and talked much, her attacks soon began again.
"I say, Everard, are the ladies pretty over in Canada?"
"Some of them."
"But now, answer me on your word of honour, have they not red noses?"
A laugh.
"How do you think George is looking?"
"Oh! very well."
"What a touching thing it was to see you two meet."
"Did you think so?"
"Margaret, just fancy two brothers who had not seen each other for three years, George comes into the room with his mouth full of something about my chestnut, and seeing Everard in the arm-chair, asleep, says: 'Ah! Everard, you there!' Upon which my friend to the right, answers: 'Eh! George how are you?' I shed tears. Two horses, I need not say, would have been more affectionate."
"I am sure I kissed you," said Everard, anxious to defend himself.
There was a general laugh.
"Of course," said Harriet, quickly recovering from her confusion, "very proper to a sister. Lord James, I shall call you to order."
Lord James, who looked as bold as his wife, which was saying a great deal for him, was stopped in the act of launching some witticism on the public, and contented himself with laughing longer and louder than any body else.
"How do you like Everard? Don't you think him very handsome?" inquired Harriet as soon as the ladies left the dining-room, "he is considered the best looking of the Gages."
Margaret smiled at Harriet's eagerness to provide for her, but begged again with genuine earnestness to be left to her fate.
Lady James Deacon came up to them, was named to Margaret, and became gracious in her manner. She showed her a new species of knitting, and on Mrs. Fitzpatrick standing by to learn it, she transferred her instructions to her with great good humour. She rallied Harriet, in the pauses, upon her handsome brother-in-law, and alluded to some other conquest, which she had heard Mrs. Gage had made in Dublin.
Margaret felt and looked pained; she disliked all jests upon what she could not help considering as sacred subjects; and she thought a wife's vows too important to become the object of such light discourse. She looked uneasily at Harriet, who stood laughing at all Lady James chose to say, or hint. Mrs. Gage saw this in a moment, and with her usual abruptness, she drew Margaret out upon the terrace.
"Look you, little Oracle," said she, "I am not used to do any-thing by halves; I love my husband a great deal more than he deserves; but I am not going to pull long faces every time a woman of that sort makes a jest upon me. She could not understand me if I did. She has no delicacy herself, and does not know when to give other people credit for it. So now come back, and see what you can make of Everard. Captain Gage gives them all a very liberal allowance."