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Another Encounter

“What now?” grumbled the post-boy, as he turned in his saddle, and then, in obedience to the gesticulations directed at him, pulled up very slowly, and not until he had traversed nearly a hundred yards of road. Flinging down the steps, the gentleman alighted, half dragged his daughter from her seat, so rudely, indeed, that she nearly fell. Then drawing her arm tightly through his own, he walked back to the injured post-boy and gave some order, his forehead netted the while with the swelling veins, and his face now pale and flushed by the passion that agitated his breast.

He seemed to quite ignore the presence of Brace, and before the young man could recover from his astonishment, father and daughter were hurriedly walking away.

“Is there anything wrong? – is – that is, can I be of no assistance?” stammered Brace, as he ran after and overtook them – speaking to the father, but gazing the while in the daughter’s pale and frightened face, as if his eyes were riveted there; but only to meet with a strange, imploring look, half horror – half dread.

The stranger tried to speak, as he raised one trembling hand, pointing towards the carriage, but no words passed his lips; and motioning the young man fiercely, he hurriedly led his trembling charge away.

“Is he mad?” said Brace to himself. “And to drag that poor girl away like that! What more can I do?” he muttered, as the post-boy drew up alongside of where he stood.

“I’ve put the portmanty back in the front, sor, as them two ain’t agoing.”

But Brace Norton did not seem to hear him, as, seeking for some clue to this strange alteration in the old man’s behaviour, his eyes fell upon the seat of the chaise the travellers had so lately occupied, where, forgotten for the time, lay his travelling writing-case, with its brass-plate bearing his name and that of his ship.

Well, yes, he had forgotten that, but what was there in his name to make the old man leap from the chaise as if half mad, unless —

There was a faint suspicion in his mind – a dim and confused mingling of fragments of old stories that had never made any impression upon him before; but now he struggled hard to recall in their entirety these shadowy memories of the past. In vain, though; he only grew more mystified than ever. The strangers were already at a turn of the road, and it was in his mind to run after them and ask for some explanation, when his eyes fell upon the handkerchief that the gentleman had placed within his hands – a handkerchief that now for the first time he saw was not the one he had applied to the injured temple, and his heart throbbed as he thought that it was his that she now held; but the next instant a feeling of trouble and pleasure mingled, as it were, came upon him, and he looked eagerly in the corner of the piece of cambric, to find there, in faint but still legible characters, the two words, “Isa Gernon.”

An old quarrel – some unpleasantry between the two families – some feeling of bitterness on the part of Sir Murray Gernon, who, with his daughter, had been resident in Italy for some twenty years. That must be it, for he could evoke nothing from the past – nothing tangible. Sir Murray had seen, then, the name of Norton in the chaise, and he refused to accept service from any one bearing that patronymic. It was absurd, too, after all these years; but it would only be an insult to a man of such pride of speech and mien to follow and press upon him what he would look upon as a favour. A little gentle advance or two upon the part of those at the Hall might put all right; for if that was Sir Murray Gernon returned unexpectedly after all these years to dwell at the Castle, there must be no enmity now. And this, then, was his daughter!

So mused Brace Norton as he mentally smoothed away all difficulties ahead, rejoicing, too, he knew not why, at the prospect of possessing such neighbours. He must, he felt, question them at home about the past, and try to adopt means for a reconciliation.

Here he stopped short, roused by the sight of the wrecked chaise, and recalling the position of those from whom he had but now parted. If that were Sir Murray Gernon, he was a good six miles from the Castle, to which place it seemed impossible that he could walk. What could be done, then, to help them without its being known from whence the help arrived? He had at last determined upon being taken back to the town, and informing the hotel-keeper of the state of affairs, when a heavily-laden fly was driven up, the roof and the driver’s box being filled with luggage, when, seeing the state of the post-boy and the injured chaise, the fly-man pulled up, and began to make inquiries.

“No bones broke, Tommy,” said the post-boy, in reply; “but I shall be precious glad to get back.”

“An’ was that the chay Sir Mooray Jairnon was in?” exclaimed a voice; and a massive-looking grizzled head was thrust out of the fly-window.

“Was it your master,” said the post-boy: “grey gent with a young lady?”

“Yes – yes! Where are they?” exclaimed an eager female voice. “Pray get out, McCray, and see.”

“Dinna fash yersel’, lassie,” said the first speaker. “There’s naebodie hurt, I ken. But where’s Sir Mooray, my lad?”

“Walked on,” said the post-boy.

“You are, then, that gentleman’s servant?” exclaimed Brace Norton, now eagerly joining in the conversation.

“And wha may ye be that ask sic a question?”

“Only a traveller on the road,” said Brace, smiling, as he glanced at the comely, pleasant-faced female who had just stepped out of the fly; “but your master and the young lady have just walked on. You have arrived in capital time, for I fear that she is much shaken. It was a very rude fall.”

“Gudeness save us, Jenny! jump in again, and let’s drive on. I’m verra grateful for your information, sir, and I thank ye.”

“Pray make haste, McCray!” cried the pleasant-faced dame, smoothing back the grey-streaked bands of hair from her forehead.

And the next minute, with the satisfaction of knowing that he had sent help where it was needed, Brace Norton was standing alone in the road.

He was very thoughtful and serious as he stood there, once more trying to bring back something of the old history from the past days of his parents’ life; but he soon gave it up as an impossible task, and one most unsuited for his present place of study. So, assisting the injured post-boy to mount, upon his reiterated assurance that he could easily reach home alone, Brace once more stepped up to his own conveyance, and, very thoughtful and dreamy, slowly continued his journey.

Four miles further on, having purposely kept the post-boy at a slow rate, Brace overtook the late occupants of the fly, arm-in-arm, and sturdily trudging on towards Merland, when, rightly concluding that their places had been taken by Sir Murray and his daughter, Brace stopped the post-boy, and invited the old Scot and his companion to share the conveyance.

“Na, na, sir; ye’re verra kind, but I’d raither not, and the gudewife here is of the same opinion. I wish ye a gude day, sir – a gude day. Ye’ll excuse our hurrying on.”

There was a something in the man’s manner that whispered of exclusiveness, and a desire to avoid strangers, which checked Brace Norton in his desire to press his offers of service. He had the good sense to feel, too, that, with the master so determinedly distant, any advances toward the servant might be looked upon as an insult. So, reluctantly giving the order to proceed, the wheels of the chaise spun round, and the next moment, at a turn of the road, Brace caught a glimpse of the couple trudging along; when, throwing himself back in the vehicle, the young man began to ponder upon what was the cause, his thoughts, too, often being occupied by the faces of his mother and Isa Gernon.

Dread

Twenty winters had not come and passed away without leaving traces of their frosty rime upon the heads of Captain Norton and his wife; but as they stood in the Hall dining-room, hand clasping hand, and gazing into each others face, it was evident that, whatever might have been the past, there was peace, content, and happiness there.

“Yes,” said Mrs Norton, now grown into a pleasant matronly dame, “he has come back. The whole village rings with the news. So unexpected, too.”

“Poor fellow!” said Captain Norton, after a few minutes’ quiet thought. “Heaven grant that he may be more happy! I am sorry, though, Ada – very sorry; for his coming seems to open old wounds. But come – come, darling!” he exclaimed, as he drew her towards his breast. “Don’t wear that troubled face. Surely, after all these years – ”

“Pray forgive me!” said Mrs Norton, nestling closer to him; and she smiled happily in reply to his caresses. “As you say, Philip, Heaven help him, and clear up the dark mystery of his life! I do not see why we should trouble ourselves about his coming back.”

“Well – no,” said Captain Norton, uneasily; “but one cannot help recalling how events shaped themselves after his last return. But there, let us dismiss it all, for I cannot trust myself even now to dwell upon all these old matters. I would make up my mind to leave, and at once, in spite of the inconvenience, only that it would be like a tacit acknowledgment that I was afraid to meet him; and you know how charitable people can be.”

“Oh no; we could not think of leaving,” said Mrs Norton, hastily; “but I think – nay, I feel sure that with him the past will be buried entirely; for, Philip,” she added, solemnly, “may Heaven forgive me if I am uncharitable, but I believe that the man who could so cruelly malign my husband must have had his own ends to serve. I could not refrain from saying this, as the subject was brought up; but whatever evil – whatever wrong-doing was connected with poor Marion’s disappearance, must some day or other be brought out into the light of day. Twenty years – twenty long years – has the matter slumbered, and it may slumber twenty more; and, in spite now of my utter indifference to public opinion, I cannot help longing for the mystery to be cleared up in our day. But, whether or no, promise me this, dearest, that it shall not be allowed to trouble you – that you will not brood over it; and that, come what may, you will avoid all encounter with that bad, proud man, whose coming seems like a cloud sent over dear old Merland. I almost feel thankful that poor Mr and Mrs Elstree are now far away from trouble and care. There was that dread suspicion, though, in both their hearts; I feel sure, however, they struggled to the last to keep it back. But there: let us dismiss it all; and you promise me, do you not?”

Captain Norton’s calm, quiet smile was enough to reassure his wife; and as he took his seat at a side-table, covered with correspondence, she stood behind him, leaning her hands upon his shoulder.

“We are going on at a famous rate, Ada,” he said, after a busy pause, in short, sharp, decisive tones, that smacked of the man of business – “returns increasing every month. Some of the prophetic old wiseacres would give their ears now for shares in our rusty old iron company. By the way, though, Brace has not written for any money lately. Is it not time we heard from him?”

“Yes,” said Mrs Norton, with anxiety in her tones; “and – ”

“Now, don’t be an old fidget,” said the Captain, laughingly, as once more he drew her towards him. “That poor old head of yours is as full of shipwrecks and disasters at sea as one of the wreck-charts or Lloyd’s ledgers. What a pity it is that we did not have half-a-dozen boys for you to share that weak old heart of yours amongst, so that you need not have had to worry yourself to death about one!”

“But surely we ought to have had a letter a month since.”

“Certainly, my love, if the poor boy had had a post-office close at hand into which he could pop it. Don’t be so unreasonable. You don’t know how even an adverse wind will keep a vessel away from port for weeks together. You must study statistics, so as to ease that heart of yours, by learning how seldom a mishap befalls a ship. We shall be hearing from him before long, and – There, bless my soul, I must keep a clerk; I’ve forgotten to answer Harrison and Son’s letter.”

“What was that about?” said Mrs Norton, as, pleased to see how happy her husband was in his business pursuits – upon which, in spite of adversity at the outset, fortune had of late smiled in full sunshine – she tried to enter into each matter, knowing full well how his busy life had been the cure for a mind diseased.

“What was it about?” said Captain Norton, dreamily. “Oh, about the marsh – the warping, you know. I am to have two thousand acres.”

“But I don’t know,” said Mrs Norton, smiling; “you promised to explain.”

“To be sure; so I did!” he exclaimed, eagerly reaching down a rolled-up plan, and spreading it upon the table. “Now look here, Ada; this will be an expensive affair, and we shall reap no benefit from it ourselves, for it is a matter of years and years; but that young dog will have an estate which will make him hold up his head as high as he likes. Now, see here – this is my side. I’ve bought these two thousand acres of worthless marshland – worthless save for peat-digging and wild-duck shooting. This is the piece, Ada, love,” he said, solemnly, as he laid a finger upon the plan. “I chose this so that I might preserve the pine-wood untouched.”

He stopped to gaze up in his wife’s face, and as she recalled the past, she bent over him until her cheek touched his forehead.

“Well, love,” he said, raising himself and speaking cheerfully, “we – that is to say, the other purchasers and myself – dig a large drain, or canal, through our marsh pieces right to the Trent, and fit our drain with sluice-gates, so that at every high tide we flood our low tract of marsh with the thick, muddy waters loaded with the alluvial soil of Yorkshire and our own county, brought down by many a river and stream, which, after the fashion of the hill floods, by slow and almost imperceptible degrees, is deposited upon our peat and rushes, in a heavy, unctuous, wondrously rich mud, or warp, till, in the course of time, we have it two, three, and in places even four feet deep. Then comes the change: we cease flooding, and give all our attention to thoroughly draining our warp land, which now becomes, in place of marsh, fit only to grow water-plants, a rich and fertile soil. Nature has converted it for us; and twenty years hence, instead of marsh, Master Brace will have a couple of thousand acres of the best soil in England. That is all I can do for him, and after all I don’t think that it will be such a very mean heritage. Now, love, what do you say to that?”

Mrs Norton’s answer was a cry of joy: for at that moment, free of step, bright and happy, in came Brace Norton, to be strained again and again to his mother’s breast.

There was a grim smile of pride and pleasure upon Captain Norton’s scarred face, as, after hastily rolling up his plans, he caught at his son’s disengaged hand.

“My dear Brace, how well and hearty you look!” he exclaimed, as he scanned the broad chest and muscular limbs of his son.

“I Well? Ay! father, never better,” was the reply. “And I don’t know that I ever saw you look better.”

“Oh! I’m well enough,” said Captain Norton. “But, my dear boy, what a pity it is that you did not join our service! With that build of yours, you would have drilled as upright as a dart.”

“And broken my heart over the pipe-clay, eh, father?” laughed the young man. “I’m right enough – make a tolerable sailor, perhaps, but I should have been a poor soldier. But, I say,” said Brace, after half-an-hour’s questioning and answering, “I have had quite an adventure coming over: came across a fine, fierce, grey old fellow, with – oh! mamma, the most lovely girl you ever saw in your life!”

“Pooh!” laughed the Captain, “the sailor’s Poll. What asses you boys do make of yourselves!”

“All right, father; only let me bray in peace.”

“Fell in love at first sight, and would have eloped, only the fierce, grey old fellow was watchful as a dragon, eh, Brace?” said Captain Norton, smiling.

“Belay, there, will you!” cried Brace. “How can I go on with my story? Not quite so fast as that. But there, sir, we can spare you for the present. I’m talking to some one here who can sympathise. Really, you know,” he continued, passing his arm round his mother’s waist, as she gazed at him fondly, and drawing her to the window, “she was about the sweetest girl I ever set eyes on. Quite an adventure: chaises passing; theirs overset; sweet girl’s temple cut; insensible; offering aid; received very haughtily by the old gentleman – quite a Spanish grandee!”

Ada Norton started, as those words seemed to carry her back five-and-twenty years, and the smile upon her lips slowly faded away.

“Well,” continued Brace, lightly, “I spoiled my cap by fetching water in it from a pool, like a true knight-errant would have done with his casque, and bound up the bleeding temple with my handkerchief. Then, after a great deal of snubbing from the old gentleman, I was rewarded by a sweet smile of thanks from the lady as I prevailed upon the Don to take my chaise and come on. Got them in at last, after a great deal of ceremonious fencing, and they drove off, but only to stop directly. Old gentleman leaps out, drags sweet girl after him, and goes raging off; and all, I suppose, because he had seen my name upon my leather writing-case; while, for explanation, I have the young lady’s handkerchief, bearing the sweet name of Isa Gernon. But, good heavens, my dear mother, how pale you look! Father, what is the matter?”

Captain Norton had risen from his seat and advanced to his wife, who, pale as death, stood gazing at him with a terrified expression upon her countenance.

“My dear father, what does all this mean?” exclaimed Brace, with real anxiety in his tones. “What mystery is there here? Of course I concluded that the elderly gentleman was Sir Murray Gernon; and I have some misty recollections of an old family quarrel, and Lady Gernon running away. There, I have arrived at my cable’s end. What is it all? I trust nothing wrong.”

“Speak to him, Ada!” cried Captain Norton, hoarsely. “There must be no more of this!”

And without another word he hurried from the room; while, perfectly astounded, Brace turned to his mother for some explanation of what was to him a profound mystery.

On the Bygone

“And where had my father been at the time?” said Brace Norton, after sitting with knitted brows listening to his mother’s narrative of the past.

“France – abroad – to avoid arrest; for his affairs in connection with the mine were then in a sad state. It was his absence which made matters wear so suspicious an aspect.”

“Suspicious? Yes,” said Brace, angrily, “suspicious enough to base minds! How long was he away?”

“Five, nearly six, months,” said Mrs Norton.

“But you never believed this charge, mother? You never thought my father guilty?”

“Guilty? No!” exclaimed Mrs Norton, proudly. “Your father, Brace, is the soul of honour, and above suspicion; but matters shaped themselves most cruelly against him.”

“That Gurdon must have had the cross,” said Brace, after a thoughtful pause; “and you say that he obtained his deserts – transported?”

Mrs Norton nodded her head.

“But Lady Gernon’s disappearance – what could have become of her? Was it possible that she was deluded away out of revenge – perhaps with the cross for a bait – by some one or other of Gurdon’s associates, so that she fell into some trap?”

“My son – my dear boy, pray do not talk of it any more,” said Mrs Norton, sadly. “It is a rock upon which our happiness was nearly wrecked; but avoid it now. It was right that you should know all after the strange meeting of to-day; but you see now the reason for your father’s – for my agitation, and for the strong emotion displayed by Sir Murray Gernon. It is quite impossible, as you must see, that the old intimacy should be renewed. Your fathers – my peace of mind depends upon our keeping at a distance – upon the past, Brace, being deeply buried. You see that I am speaking freely – that I am keeping nothing back, in order that you may be upon your guard, and do nothing to endanger the happiness of what, my child, has been these many years a happy home.”

“But,” exclaimed Brace, impetuously, “if the mystery could be cleared up! I do not like that, even with Sir Murray Gernon, there should be a doubt of my father’s honour.”

“Brace, my dear boy,” said Mrs Norton, laying her hand upon the young man’s arm, “let the past rest; it is a subject that has brought white hairs into more than one head. It has been thought upon till left in despair. I pray to be forgiven if I am unjust, but I do not think that Sir Murray Gernon entertains a single suspicion against your father, whatever he may once have felt. Time must have removed old impressions; but for his own black conduct – There, I dare not say what I think, even to you, Brace!”

There was a contraction of the young man’s features, as an inkling of the meaning of his mother’s hastily-spoken words flashed across his mind. Then, rising, he began to pace the room with impatient strides, for there was a sense of disappointment at his heart which he could not overcome; and in spite of his efforts, there seemed to be continually before him the sweet, timid face and the reclining figure that he had for a few minutes supported; while, as he pondered upon his mothers words, again piecing together her long narrative, it seemed to him that he was every minute being removed further and further from one who had made what in another case he would have called an impression upon a susceptible nature. It was as though each moment a deep, black gulf was opening wider and wider between them – a gulf that it would be impossible for him ever to pass. Then, as Mrs Norton watched him anxiously, he stood gazing from the window, telling himself that it was absurd to treat matters in such a light; that he had seen Isa Gernon but for a few minutes; that he had barely spoken to her; that she might be engaged to another; that she might be in disposition unamiable, and in tastes utterly opposed to his; that, in short, he was making an utter ass of himself. But, all the same, there were those two large, sad eyes ever before him, gazing reproachfully in his face from beyond that great gulf – ever widening more and more, more and more, till, impatiently stamping upon the floor, he made an angry effort to cast the “folly” from him, and went and knelt down by his mother’s side.

“I am sorry, Brace,” she said, as her hand played, with all a proud mother’s tenderness, amongst his fair, crisply-curling hair – “I am grieved that my words should have made so troublous an impression.”

“It is not that – it is not that! There, what am I saying?” he exclaimed, with assumed cheerfulness. “I’ve come home in high spirits, brimful of happiness, and ready to enjoy myself; so, dear mother, don’t let us trouble about the past – let it be buried.”

“Yes, better so – far better so!” exclaimed Mrs Norton. “For our sakes, Brace, never refer to it before your father in any wise; for those incidents were so many shoals in the way of his happiness; but, Brace, I set myself to try and make his life happy, and sometimes I cannot help thinking that I have succeeded.”

“Indeed, no happier home than this could ever have existed, I’m sure,” cried Brace, smiling in his mother’s pleasant face. “But,” he added, as he kissed her, laughing, “it does seem hard that when you have cured a husband of a roving disposition, you should have a son turn out far worse.”

Mrs Norton smiled, but a grave, sad expression swept the next moment over her face.

“Save for his business transactions, Brace, that was your father’s last long absence from me – for I suffered deeply then. I think that on his return from France, when he had had some arrangements made by which he gained time to pay off every demand, he saw how I had felt his absence, and made a resolve to leave me no more, and he has kept to that determination.”

“The mines nearly ruined him, then, in the first place?” said Brace.

“Very nearly; but he had such faith in them that for five years we lived almost in poverty that we might pay off debts; when, as his last creditor was satisfied, your father’s faith met with its reward, and ever since the mines have gone on increasing their returns year by year. But let us go to him now. You will be careful, though, Brace; you see now how necessary it is that not even a reference should be made to the bygone?”

“Yes – yes, mother – yes!” said Brace, with a troubled sigh; and they rose to leave the room, when, with the traces of his former emotion quite passed away, Captain Norton entered, looking inquiringly at mother and son, and then entering into conversation upon indifferent topics, as if nothing had happened.