Lawrence Beesley - "The Loss of the SS. Titanic"

William W. Walter - "The Pastor's Son"

Edward Peple - "A Night Out"

Don Manoel Gonzales - "London in 1731"

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Books: Love and Life

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> Love and Life




"Fled! What has been done to trace her?" cried the Major.

"Nothing could be done till my mother was gone and my uncle returned.
The delirium was on me, and whatever I tried to say turned to raving,
all the worse if I saw or heard my mother, till Dr. Sandys forbade
her coming near me. She was invited to the Queen's Sunday card party
moreover, so she fortunately quitted Bowstead just before Mr. Belamour's
return."

"Poor gentleman, he could do nothing," said Betty.

"Indeed I should have thought so, but it seems that he only needed a
shock to rouse him. His state had become hypochondriacal, and this
strong emotion has caused him to exert himself; and when he came into
the daylight, he found he could bear it. I could scarce believe my
eyes when, on awakening from a sleep, I found him by my bedside,
promising me that if I would only remain still, he would use every
endeavour to recover the dear one. He went first to Brentford,
thinking she might have joined her sister there, but Mr. and Mrs.
Arden had left it at the same time as she did. Then he travelled
on to their Rectory at Rundell Canonicorum, thinking she might have
followed them, but they had only just arrived, and had heard nothing
of her; and he next sought her with his friend the Canon of Windsor,
but all in vain. Meantime my mother had visited me, and denied all
knowledge of her, only carrying away my little sisters, I believe
because she found them on either side of my bed, telling me tales
of their dear Cousin Aura's kindness. When my uncle returned to
Bowstead I could bear inaction no longer, and profited by my sick
leave to travel down hither, trusting that she might have found her
way to her home, and longing to confess all and implore your pardon,
sir,--and, alas! Your aid in seeking her."

With the large tears in his eyes, the youth rose from his chair as
he spoke, and knelt on one knee before the Major, who exclaimed,
extremely affected--"By all that is sacred, you have it, my dear
boy. It is a wretched affair, but you meant to act honourably
throughout, and you have suffered heavily. May God bless you both,
and give us back my dear child. My Lady must have been very hard
with her, to make her thus fly, all alone."

"You do not know, I suppose, any cause for so timid a creature
preferring flight to a little restraint?"

"It seems," said Sir Amyas sadly, "that something the dear girl said
gave colour to the charge of having caused the fire, and that my
mother in her first passion threatened her with the constable!"

"My poor Aurelia! that might well scare her," cried Betty: "but how
could it be?"

"They say she spoke of using something her sister had given her to
discover what the mystery was that alarmed her."

"Ah! that gunpowder trick of Mr. Arden's--I always hated it!"
exclaimed Betty.

"Gunpowder indeed!" growled the old soldier. "Well, if ever there's
mischief among the children, Harriet is always at the bottom of it.
I hope Mr. Belamour made her confess if she had a hand in it."

"I believe he did," said Sir Amyas.

"Just like her to set the match to the train and then run away," said
the Major.

"Still, sir," said Betty, her womanhood roused to defence, "though I am
angered and grieved enough that Harriet should have left Aurelia to face
the consequences of the act she instigated, I must confess that even by
Sir Amyas's own showing, if he will allow me to say so, my sisters were
justified in wishing to understand the truth."

"That is what my uncle tells me," said the baronet. "He declares that
if I had attended to his stipulations, restrained my fervour, or kept
my distance, there would have been neither suspicion nor alarm. As if
I had not restrained myself!"

"Ay, I dare say," said the Major, a little amused.

"Well, sir, what could a man do with most bewitching creature in the
world, his own wife, too, on the next chair to him?"

There was a simplicity about the stripling--for he was hardly more--
which forced them to forgive him; besides, they were touched by his
paleness and fatigue. His own man--a respectable elderly servant whom
the Major recollected waiting on Sir Jovian--came to beg that his honour
would sit up no longer, as he had been travelling since six in the
morning, and was quite worn out. Indeed, so it proved; for when the
Major and Betty not only promised to come with him on the search the
next day, but bade him a kind affectionate good-night, the poor lad,
all unused to kindness, fairly burst into tears, which all his dawning
manhood could not restrain.




CHAPTER XXVI. THE TRACES.


Oh, if I were an eagle to soar into the sky,
I'd gaze around with piercing eye when I my love might spy.


The second-best coach, which resided at Bowstead, the same which had
carried Aurelia off from Knightsbridge, had brought Sir Amyas Belamour
to Carminster--an effeminate proceeding of which he was rather ashamed,
though clearly he could not have ridden, and he had hoped to have
brought his bride back in it.

There was plenty of room in it to take back the Major, Betty, and even
Eugene, since he could not well have been left without his sister or
Palmer, who was indispensable to the Major. He was so enchanted at
"riding in a coach," and going perhaps to see London, that he did not
trouble himself much about sister Aurelia being lost, and was in such
high spirits as to be best disposed of outside, between Palmer and
Gray, where he could at his ease contemplate the horses, generally
four in number, though at some stages only two could be procured,
and then at an extra steep hill a farmer's horse from the hayfield
would be hitched on in front. Luckily there was no lack of money;
Mr. Belamour and Hargrave had taken care that Sir Amyas should be
amply supplied, and thus the journey was as rapid as posting could
be in those days of insufficient inns, worse roads, and necessary
precautions against highwaymen.

The road was not the same as that which the young baronet had come
down by, as it was thought better to take the chance of meeting a
different stage waggon, Sir Amyas and his servant having, of course,
examined the one they had overtaken in coming down. At every possible
resting place on the route was inquiry made, but all in vain; no one
had seen such a young gentlewoman as was described, or if some answer
inspired hope for a moment, it was dashed again at once. The young
gentlewoman once turned out to be the Squire's fat lady, and another
time was actually pursued into a troop of strolling players, attiring
themselves in a barn, whence she came with cheeks freshly rouged with
blood taken from a cat's tail.

The young baronet had meanwhile become very dear to the Major and his
daughter. He had inherited his mother's indescribable attractiveness,
and he was so frank, so affectionate, so unspoilt, so grateful for the
little attentions demanded by his maimed condition, so considerate of
the Major, and so regardless of himself, and, above all, so passionately
devoted to his dearest life, as he called Aurelia, that it was impossible
not to take him into their hearts, and let him be, as he entreated, a
son and a brother.

The travellers decided on first repairing to Bowstead, thinking it
probable that the truant might have returned thither, or that Mr.
Belamour might have found her in some one of the cottages around.
Hopes began to rise, and Major Delavie scolded Sir Amyas in quite a
paternal manner whenever he began to despond, though the parts were
reversed whenever the young people's expectations began to soar beyond
his own spirits at the moment.

"Is yonder Hargrave? No, it is almost like my father!" exclaimed
Sir Amyas, in amazement, as the coach lumbered slowly up the approach,
and a very remarkable figure was before them. The long white beard
was gone, the hair was brushed back, tied up, and the ends disposed
of in a square black silk bag, hanging down behind; and the dark grey
coat, with collar and deep cuffs of black velvet, was such as would
be the ordinary wear of an elderly man of good position; but the
face, a fine aquiline one, as to feature, was of perfectly absolute
whiteness, scarcely relieved by the thin pale lips, or the eyes,
which, naturally of a light-grey, had become almost as colourless
as the rest of the face, and Betty felt a shock as if she had seen
a marble statue clothed and animated, bowing and speaking.

The anxious inquiry and the mournful negative had been mutually
exchanged before the carriage door was opened, and all were standing
together in the avenue.

"I have, however, found a clue, or what may so prove," said Mr.
Belamour, when the greetings had passed. "I have discovered how our
fugitive passed the early part of the Sunday;" and he related how he
had elicited from the Mistresses Treforth that they had seen her and
driven her away with contumely.

Sir Amyas and the Major were not sparing of interjections, and the
former hoped that his uncle had told them what they deserved.

"Thereby only incurring the more compassion," said Mr. Belamour,
dryly, and going on to say that he had extended his inquires to
Sedhurst, and had heard of her visit to Dame Wheatfield; also,
that the good woman, going to seek her at the church, had found
only the basket with the guineas in the paper. She had regarded
this merely as a wrapper, and, being unable to read, had never
noticed the writing, but she had fortunately preserved it, and
Mr. Belamour thus learnt Aurelia's intention of throwing herself
on Lady Belamour's mercy.

"My mother utterly denied all knowledge of her, when I cried out
in anguish when she came to see me!" said Sir Amyas.

"So she does to Hargrave, whom she sent off to interrogate Mrs.
Arden," said Mr. Belamour.

"Have you any reason to think the child could have reached my Lady?"
inquired Betty, seeing that none of the gentlemen regarded my Lady's
denials as making any difference to their belief, though not one of
them chose to say so.

"Merely negative evidence," said Mr. Belamour. "I find that no one
in the house actually beheld the departure of my Lady on that Sunday
afternoon. The little girls had been found troublesome, and sent out
into the park with Molly, and my nephew was giving full employment to
Jumbo and Mrs. Aylward in my room. The groom, who was at the horses'
heads, once averred that he saw two women get into the carriage
besides her ladyship; but he is such a sodden confused fellow, and
so contradicts himself, that I can make nothing of him."

"He would surely know his young mistress," said Sir Amyas.

"Perhaps not in the camlet hood, which Dame Wheatfield says she wore."

"Was good old Dove acting as coachman?" said Betty. "We should learn
something from him."

"It was not her own coach," said Mr. Belamour. "All the servants were
strangers, the liveries sanguine, and the panels painted with helmets
and trophies."

"Mar's," said Sir Amyas, low and bitterly.

"I guessed as much," said his uncle. "It was probably chosen on
purpose, if the child has friends in your own household."

"Then I must demand her," said the Major. "She cannot be denied to
her father."

"At any rate we must go to town to-morrow," said Mr. Belamour. "We
have done all we can here."

"Let us send for horses and go on at once," cried Sir Amyas.

"Not so fast, nephew. I see, by her face, that Miss Delavie does not
approve, though our side of the town is safer than Hounslow."

"I was not thinking of highwaymen, sir, but we set forth at five this
morning, and Sir Amyas always becomes flushed and feverish if he is
over fatigued; nor is my father so strong as he was."

"Ah, ha! young sir, in adopting Betty for a sister you find you have
adopted a quartermaster-general, eh?" said the Major; "but she is
quite right. We should not get to town before ten or eleven at
night, and what good would that do? No, no, let us sup and have
a good night's rest, and we will drive into town long enough before
fine ladies are astir in the morning, whatever may be the fashionable
hour nowadays."

"Yes, nephew, you must content yourself with acting host to your
father and sister-in-law in your own house," said his uncle.

"It seems to me more like yours, sir," rejoined the youth; but at the
hall door, with all his native grace, he turned and gave his welcome,
kissing Betty on the cheek with the grave ceremony of the host, and
lamenting, poor fellow, that he stood alone without his bride to
receive them.

"Is that Jumbo?" asked Betty. "I must thank him for all his kind
service to my dear sister."

Faithful Jumbo fairly wept when--infinite condescension for those
days--Major Delavie shook hands with him and thanked him.

"If pretty Missie Madam were but safe and well, Jumbo would wish no
more," he sobbed out.

"Poor Jumbo," said Mr. Belamour, "he has never been the same man since
pretty Missie Madam has been lost. I hear his violin mourning for her
till it is enough to break one's heart!"

However Eugene created a diversion by curious inquiries whether Jumbo
would indeed play the fiddle of which he had heard from Archer and
Amoret, and he ran off most eagerly after the negro to be introduced
to the various curiosities of the place.

Mrs. Aylward attended Miss Delavie to her room, and showed herself
much softened. As a good, conscientious woman, she felt that she
had acted a selfish part towards the lonely maiden, and Betty's
confident belief that she had been a kind friend was a keen reproach.

"Indeed, madam," she said, "I would lief you could truly call me such,
but when young Miss came here first I took her for one of that flighty
sort that it is wise not to meddle with more than needful. I have
kept my place here these thirty years by never making or meddling,
and knowing nothing about what don't concern me, and is out of my
province. Now, I wish I had let the poor young lady be more friendly
with me, for maybe I could have been of use to her in her need.

"You had no suspicion?"

"No, ma'am; though I find there were those who suspected some one came
up here disguised as Jumbo; but I was never one to lend an ear to
gossip, and by that time I trusted the dear young lady altogether,
and knew she would never knowingly do aught that was unbecoming
her station, or her religion."

"I am glad the dear child won your good opinion," said Betty.

"Indeed, ma'am, that you may say," returned Mrs. Aylward, whom anxiety
had made confidential; "for I own I was prejudiced against her from
the first, as, if you'll excuse me, ma'am, all we Bowstead people are
apt to be set against whatever comes from my Lady's side. However,
one must have been made of the nether millstone not to feel the
difference she made in the house. She was the very life of it with
her pretty ways, singing and playing with the children, and rousing
up the poor gentleman too that had lived just like a mere heathen in
a dungeon, and wouldn't so much as hear a godly word in his despair.
And now he has a minister once a fortnight to read prayers, and is
quite another man--all through that blessed young lady, who has
brought him back to light and life." And as Betty's tears flowed
at this testimony to her sister, the housekeeper added, "Never you
fear, ma'am; she is one of God's innocents and His Hand will be
over her."

Meantime, having dismissed the young lover to take, if he could, a
much needed night's rest, the Major was listening to Mr. Belamour's
confession. "I was the most to blame, in as much as an old fool is
worse than a young one; and I would that the penalty fell on me
alone."

"If she be in my cousin's hands I cannot believe that she will permit
any harm to befall her," said the good Major, still clinging to his
faith in Urania--the child he had taught to ride, and with whom he
had danced her first minuet.

"What I dread most is her being forced into some low marriage," said
Mr. Belamour. "The poor child's faith in the ceremony that passed
must have been overthrown, and who can tell what she may be induced
to accept?"

"It was that threat which moved you?" said the Major.

"Yes. Hargrave assured me that my Lady had actually offered her to
him, with a bribe of a farm on easy terms; and when she found that
he had other intentions, there seemed to be some broken-down sycophant
of Mar's upon the cards, but of course I was preferable, both because
my fair sister-in-law has some lingering respect for the honour of
her own blood, and because the bar between Aurelia and my nephew
would be perpetual. I knew likewise that it was my brother's earnest
desire that a match should take place between your children and his.

"He did me too much honour. The lad showed me the extract from his
letter."

"I could not give him the whole. It was fit for no eyes but mine,
who had so long neglected it, and barely understood that it existed.
My poor brother's eyes were fully opened to his wife's character, and
even while he loved her to distraction, and yielded to her fascinating
mastery against his better judgment, he left me the charge of trying
in some degree to repair the injustice he believed you to be suffering,
and of counteracting evil influences on her son."

"That seems at least to have been done."

"By no efforts of mine; but because the boy was happily permitted
to remain with the worthy tutor his father had chosen for him, and
because Wayland is an excellent man, wise and prudent in all things
save in being bewitched by a fair face. Would that he were returned!
When I first consented to act this fool's part, I trusted that he
would have been at home soon enough to prevent more than the nominal
engagement, and when my Lady's threats rendered it needful to secure
the poor child by giving her my name, I still expected him before my
young gentleman should utterly betray himself by his warmth."

"He tells me that he has written."

"True. On that I insisted, and I am the more uneasy, for there has
been ample time for a reply. It is only too likely, from what my
nephew tells me of his venturesome explorations, that he may have
fallen into the hands of the Moorish corsairs! Hargrave says it is
rumoured; but my Lady will not be checked in her career of pleasure,
and if she is fearful of his return, she may precipitate matters
with the poor girl!"

"Come, come, sir, I cannot have you give way to despondency. You
did your best, and if it did not succeed, it was owing to my foolish
daughter Arden. Why, if she was not satisfied about her sister, could
she not have come here, and demanded an explanation? That would have
been the straightforward way!"

"Would that she had! Or would that I had sooner discovered my own
entire recovery, which I owe in very truth to the sweet being who
has brought new life alike of body and mind to me, and who must
think I have requited her so cruelly."




CHAPTER XXVII. CYTHEREA'S BOWER.


There Citherea, goddesse was and quene,
Honourid highly for her majeste,
And eke her sonne, the mighty god I weene,
Cupid the blinde, that for his dignite
A M lovers worshipp on ther kne.
There was I bid on pain of dethe to pere,
By Mercury, the winged messengre.--CHAUCER.


By twelve o'clock on the ensuing day Mr. Belamour, with Eugene and
Jumbo, was set down at a hotel near Whitehall, to secure apartments,
while the Major went on to demand his daughter from Lady Belamour,
taking with him Betty, whom he allowed to be a much better match
for my Lady than he could be. Very little faith in his cousin
Urania remained to him in the abstract, yet even now he could not
be sure that she would not talk him over and hoodwink him in any
actual encounter. Sir Amyas likewise accompanied him, both to
gratify his own anxiety and to secure admission. The young man
still looked pale and worn with restless anxiety; but he had, in
spite of remonstrances, that morning discarded his sling, saying
that he should return to his quarters. Let his Colonel do his worst
the; he had still more liberty than if compelled to return to his
mother's house.

Lady Belamour had, on her second marriage, forsaken her own old
hereditary mansion in the Strand, where Sir Jovian had died, and
which, she said, gave her the vapours. Mr. Wayland, whose wealth
far exceeded her own, had purchased one of the new houses in
Hanover Square, the fashionable quarter and very much admired; but
the Major regretted the gloomy dignity of the separate enclosure
and walled court of Delavie House, whereas the new one, in modern
fashion, had only an area and steps between the front and the
pavement.

The hall door stood wide open, with a stately porter within, and
lackeys planted about at intervals. Grey descended from the box, and
after some inquiry, brought word that "her Ladyship was at breakfast,"
then, at a sign from his master, opened the carriage door. Sir Amyas,
taking Betty by the tips of her fingers, led her forward, receiving by
the way greetings and inquiries from the servants, whose countenances
showed him to be a welcome arrival.

"Is it a reception day, Maine?" he asked of a kind of major-domo whom
he met on the top of the broad stairs.

"No, your honour."

"Is company with her ladyship?"

"No, not company, sir," with a certain hesitation, which damped Betty's
satisfaction in the first assurance.

What did she see as Maine opened the door? It was a very spacious
bedroom, the bed in an alcove hung with rose-coloured satin embroidered
with myrtles and white roses, looped up with lace and muslin. Like
draperies hung round the window, fluted silk lined the room, and
beautiful japanned and inlaid cabinets and _etageres_ adorned the
walls, bearing all varieties and devices of new and old porcelain
from Chins, Sevres, Dresden, or Worcester, tokens of Mr. Wayland's
travels. There was a toilette table before one window covered with
lacquer ware, silver and ivory boxes, and other apparatus, and an
exquisite Venetian mirror with the borders of frosted silver work.

Not far off, but sideways to it, sat Lady Belamour in a loose sacque
of some rich striped silk, in crimson and blue stripes shot with gold
threads. Slippers, embroidered with gold, showed off her dainty feet,
and a French hairdresser stood behind her chair putting the finishing
touches to the imposing fabric of powder, flower, and feather upon
her head. A little hand-mirror, framed in carved ivory inlaid with
coral, and a fan, lay on a tiny spindle-legged table close in front
of her, together with a buff-coloured cup of chocolate. At a somewhat
larger table Mrs. Loveday, her woman, was dispensing the chocolate,
whilst a little negro boy, in a fantastic Oriental costume, waited
to carry the cups about.

On a sofa near at hand, in an easy attitude, reclined Colonel Mar,
holding out to Lady Belamour a snuff-box of tortoiseshell and gold,
and a lady sat near on one of the tall black-and-gold chairs drinking
chocolate, while all were giving their opinions on the laces, feathers,
ribbons, and trinkets which another Frenchman was displaying from a
basket-box placed on the floor, trying to keep aloof a little Maltese
lion-dog, which had been roused from its cushion, and had come to
inspect his wares. A little further off, Archer, in a blue velvet
coat, white satin waistcoat, and breeches and silk stockings, and
Amoret, white-frocked, blue-sashed, and bare-headed (an innovation
of fashion), were admiring the nodding mandarins, grinning nondescript
monsters, and green lions of extraordinary form which an emissary
from a curiosity-shop was unpacking. Near the door, in an attitude
weary yet obsequious, stood, paper in hand, a dejected figure in
shabby plum-colour--_i.e._ a poor author--waiting in hopes that his
sonnet in praise of Cytherea's triumphant charms would win his the
guinea he so sorely needed, as


To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
And heap the shrine of luxury and pride
With incense kindled at the Muses' flame.


The scene was completed by a blue and yellow macaw at one window
chained to his perch, and a green monkey tethered in like manner
at the other.

Of course Elizabeth Delavie did not perceive all these details at once.
Her first sensation was the shock to the decorum of a modest English
lady at intruding into a bed-room; but her foreign recollections coming
to her aid, she accepted the fashion with one momentary feminine review
of her own appearance, and relief that she had changed her travelling
gear for her Sunday silks, and made her father put on his full uniform.
All this passed while Sir Amyas was leading her into the room, steering
her carefully out of the monkey's reach. Then he went a step or two
forward and bent before his mother, almost touching the ground with
one knee, as he kissed her hand, and rising, acknowledged the lady
with a circular sweep of his hat, and his Colonel with a military
salute, all rapidly, but with perfect ease and gracefulness. "Ah!
my truant, my runaway invalid!" said Lady Belamour, "you are come to
surrender."