Books: Love and Life
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> Love and Life
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"Madam, you must excuse me, I was silent from thinking how I can
adequately express my respect and gratitude for you."
"I beg your pardon, sir," exclaimed Aurelia, thinking her ears
mistaken.
"My gratitude," he repeated, "for the inestimable blessing you have
been to my dear and much valued friend, in rousing him from that
wretched state of despondency in which no one could approach him."
"You are too good, sir," returned Aurelia. "It was he who sent for
me."
"I know you did it in all simplicity, my dear child--forgive the
epithet, I have daughters of my own, and thankful should I be if
one of them could have produced such effects. I tell you, madam,
my dear friend, one of the most estimable and brilliant men of his
day, was an utter wreck, both in mind and body, through the cruel
machinations of an unprincipled woman. How much was to the
actual injury from his wound, how much to grief and remorse, Heaven
only knows, but the death of his brother, who alone had authority
with him, left him thus to cut himself off entirely in this utter
darkness and despair. I called at first monthly, then yearly, after
the melancholy catastrophe, and held many consultations with good
Mr. Wayland, but all in vain. It was reserved for your sweet notes
to awaken and recall him to what I trust is indeed new life."
Tears filled Aurelia's eyes, and she could only murmur something
about being very glad.
"Yes," pursued Dr. Godfrey, "it is as if I saw him rising from his
living tomb in all senses of the word. I find that your artless
Sunday evening conversations have even penetrated the inner hopeless
gloom, still more grievous than the outer darkness in which he lived."
"Indeed, sir, I never meant to be presumptuous."
"God's blessing on such presumption, my good child! If you had been
fully aware of his state of mind, you might never have ventured nor
have touched the sealed heart, as you have done, as I perceive, in
your ignorance, out of your obedient reverence to the Lord's day.
Am I not right?"
"Yes, sir, I thought one _could_ not repeat plays and poems on Sunday,
and I was frightened when I found those other things were strange to
him; but he bade me go on."
"For the sake of the music of your voice, as he tells me, at first;
but afterwards because you became the messenger of hope to one who
had long lain in the shadow of death, thinking pardon and mercy too
much out of reach to be sought for. You have awakened prayer within
him once more."
She could not speak, and Dr. Godfrey continued, "You will be glad to
hear that I am to see the curate on my way through Brentford, and
arrange with him at times to read prayers in the outer room. What
is it?" he added; "you look somewhat doubtful."
"Only, sir, perhaps I ought not to say so, but I cannot think Mr.
Belamour well ever care for poor Mr. Greaves. If he could only hear
that gentleman who comes to Sedhurst! I never knew how much fire
could be put into the service itself, and yet I have often been at
Carminster Cathedral."
"True, my dear young lady. These enthusiasts seem to be kindling
a new fire in the Church, but I am not yet so convinced of their
orthodoxy and wisdom as to trust them unreservedly; and zeal pushed
too far might offend our poor recluse, and alienate him more than
ever. He is likely to profit more by the direct words of the Church
herself, read without personal meaning, than by the individual
exhortations of some devout stranger."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, I never meant to question your judgment.
Indeed I did not."
The horses were here announced, and Dr. Godfrey said,
"Then I leave him to you with a grateful heart. I am beginning to
hope that there is much hypochondriacism in his condition, and that
this may pass away with his despondency. I hope before many weeks
are over to come and visit him again, before I go to my parish in
Dorsetshire."
Then, with a fatherly blesssing, the Canon took his leave.
He was scarcely gone before there was a great rustling in the hall,
and Mrs. Phoebe and Mrs. Delia Treforth were announced. Aurelia was
surprised, for she had been decidedly sensible of their disapproval
when she made her visit of ceremony after her entertainment by them.
She, however, had underrated the force of the magnet of curiosity.
They had come to inquire about the visitor, who had actually spent
a night at the Park. They knew who he was, for "Ned Godfrey" had
been a frequent guest at Bowstead in the youth of all parties, and
they were annoyed that he had not paid his respects to them.
"It would have been only fitting to have sent for us, as relations
of the family, to assist in entertaining him," said Mrs. Phoebe.
"Pray, miss, did my eccentric cousin place you in the position of
hostess?"
"It fell to me, madam," said Aurelia.
"You could have asked for _our_ support," said Mrs. Phoebe, severely.
"It would have become you better, above all then Sir Amyas Belamour
himself was here."
"He has only been here while I was with you, madam, and was gone
before my return."
"_That_ is true,: but Mrs. Phoebe looked at the girl so inquisitively
that her colour rose in anger, and exclaimed, "Madam, I know not what
you mean!"
"There, sister," said Mrs. Delia, more kindly. "She is but a child,
and Bet Batley is a gossip. She would not know his Honour in the
dark from the blackamoor going down to visit his sweetheart."
Very glad was Aurelia when the ladies curtsied themselves out of her
summer parlour, declaring they wished to speak to Mrs. Aylward, who
she knew could assure them of the absurdity of these implied suspicions.
And Mrs. Aylward, who detested the two ladies, and repelled their
meddling, stiffly assured them both of Miss Delavie's discretion
and her own vigilance, which placed visits from the young baronet
beyond the bounds of possibility. Supposing his Honour should
again visit his uncle, she should take care to be present at any
interview with the young lady. She trusted that she knew her duty,
and so did Miss Delavie.
CHAPTER XV. THE QUEEN OF BEAUTY.
O bright _regina_, who made thee so faire,
Who made thy colour vermeilie and white?
Now marveile I nothing that ye do hight
The quene of love.--CHAUCER.
Only a week had elapsed before the quiet of Bowstead was again
disturbed by the arrival of two grooms, with orders that everything
should be made ready the next day for the arrival of my Lady, who
was on her way to Carminster for a few weeks, and afterwards to Bath.
Forthwith Mrs. Aylward and her subordinates fell into a frenzy of
opening shutters, lighting fires, laying down carpets and uncovering
furniture. Scrubbing was the daily task for the maids, and there was
nothing extra possible in that line, but there was hurry enough to
exacerbate the temper, and when Aurelia offered her services she was
tartly told that she could solely be useful by keeping the children
out of the way; for in spite of all rebuffs, they persisted in
haunting the footsteps of the housekeeper and maids, Fay gazing with
delight at the splendours that were revealed, Amy proffering undesired
aid, Letty dancing in the most inconvenient places, romancing about
her mamma and little brother, and making sure that her big beautiful
brother was also coming.
The were very unwilling to let Aurelia call them away to practise
them in bridling, curtseying, and saying "Yes, madam," according to
the laws of good breeding so carefully inculcated by sister at home.
So anxious was she that she tried them over and over again till
they were wearied out, and became so cross and naughty that nothing
restored good-homour except gathering blackberries to feast brother
Archer.
The intelligence produced less apparent excitement in the dark chamber.
When Aurelia, in an eager, awe-stricken voice began, "O sir, have you
heard that my Lady is coming?" he calmly replied,
"The sounds in the house have amply heralded her, to say nothing of
Jumbo."
"I wonder what she will do!"
"You will not long have known her, my fair friend, without discovering
that she is one of the most inscrutable of her sex. The mere endeavour
to guess at her plans only produces harassing surmises and alarms."
"Do you think, sir, she can mean to take me away?"
"I suppose that would be emancipation to you, my poor child."
"I should dance to find myself going home," said Aurelia, "yet how
could I bear to leave my little girls, or you, sir. Oh! if you could
only live at the Great House, at home, I should be quite happy."
"Then you would not willingly abandon the recluse?"
"Indeed," she said with a quivering in her voice, "I cannot endure the
notion. You have been so kind and good to me, sir, and I do so enjoy
coming to you. And you would be all alone again with Jumbo! Oh sir,
could you not drive down if all the coach windows were close shut up?
You would have my papa to talk to!"
"And what would your papa say to having a miserable old hermit
inflicted on him?"
"He would be only too glad."
No, no, my gentle friend, there are other reasons. I could not make
my abode in Lady Belamour's house, while in that of my nephew, my
natural home, I have a right to drag out what remains of the existence
of mine. Nay, are you weeping, my sweet child? That must not be;
your young life must take no darkness from mine. Even should Lady
Belamour's arbitrary caprice bear you off without another meeting,
remember that you have given me many more happy hours than I ever
supposed to be in store for me, and have opened doors which shall
not be closed again."
"You will get some one to recite to you?" entreated Aurelia, her voice
most unsteady.
"Godfrey shall seek out some poor scholar or exhausted poetaster,
with a proviso that he never inflicts his own pieces on me," said Mr.
Belamour, in a tone more as if he wished to console her than as it
were a pleasing prospect. "Never fear, gentle monitress, I will
not sink into the stagnation from which your voice awoke me.
Neither Godfrey nor my nephew would allow it. Come, let us put it
from our minds. It has always been my experience, that whatever I
expected from my much admired sister-in-law, that was the exact
reverse of what she actually did. Therefore let us attend to
topics, though I wager that you have no fresh acquisitions for
me to-day."
"I am ashamed, sir, but I could not fix my mind even to a most
frightful description of wolves in Mr. Thomson's 'Winter.'"
"That were scarcely a soothing subject; but we might find calm in
something less agitating and more familiar. Perhaps you can recall
something too firmly imprinted on your memory to be disturbed by
these emotions."
Aurelia bethought herself that she must not disappoint her friend on
what might prove their last evening; she began very unsteadily:--
"' Hence, loathed Melancholy.'"
However by the time "Jonson's learned sock" was on, her mechanical
repetition had become animated, and she had restored herself to
equanimity. When the clock struck nine, her auditor added his thanks,
"In case we should not meet again thus, let me beg of my kind visitor
to wear this ring in memory of one to whom she has brought a breath
indeed from L'Allegro itself. It will not be too large. It was made
for a lady."
And amid her tearful thanks she felt a light kiss on her fingers,
revealing to her that the hermit must possess a beard, a fact, which
in the close-shaven Hanoverian days, conveyed a sense of squalor and
neglect almost amounting to horror.
In her own room she dropped many a tear over the ring, which was of
course the Cupid intaglio, and she spent the night in strange mixed
dreams and yearnings, divided between her father, Betty, and Eugene
on the one hand, and Mr. Belamour and the children on the other.
Home-sick as she sometimes felt, dull as Bowstead was, she should
be sadly grieved to leave those to whom she felt herself almost
necessary, though her choice must needs be for her home.
Early the next day arrived an old roomy berlin loaded heavily with
luggage, and so stuffed with men and maids that four stout horses
had much ado to bring it up to the door. The servants, grumbling
heartily, declared that my Lady was only going to lie here for a
single night, and that Sir Amyas was not with her.
Late in the afternoon, a couple of outriders appeared to say that the
great lady was close at hand, and Aurelia, in her best blue sacque,
and India muslin cap, edged with Flanders lace, had her three little
charges, all in white with red shoes, red sashes, and red ribbons in
their caps, drawn up in the hall to welcome their mother.
Up swept the coach with six horses, Mr. Dove behind--runners in fact,
who at times rested themselves by an upright swing on the foot-board.
The door of the gorgeous machine was thrown open, and forth sprang
a pretty little boy. Next descended the friendly form of Mrs. Dove,
then a smart person, who was my Lady's own woman, and finally
something dazzlingly grand and beautiful in feathers, light blue,
and silver.
Aurelia made her reverence, and so did the little triad; the great
lady bent her head, and gave a light kiss to the brow of each child,
and the boy sprang forward, crying: "You are my sisters. You must
play with me, and do whatever I choose." Amoret and he began kissing
on the spot, but Fidelia, regarding _must_ as a forbidden word, looked
up at Aurelia with an inquiring protest in her eyes; but it was not
heeded, in the doubt whether to follow Lady Belamour, who, with a
stately greeting to Mrs. Aylward, had sailed into the withdrawing-
room. The question was decided by Mrs. Aylward standing back to
make room, and motioning her forward, so she entered, Letty
preceding her and Fay clinging to her.
By the hearth stood the magnificent figure, holding out a long,
beautiful, beringed hand, which Aurelia shyly kissed, bending as
before a queen, while her forehead received the same slight salute
as had been given to the little girls. "My cousin Delavie's own
daughter," said the lady: "You have the family likeness."
"So I have been told, madam."
"Your father is well, I hope."
"He was pretty well, I thank you Ladyship, when I heard from my sister
ten days ago."
"I shall see him in a week's time, and shall report well of his little
daughter," said Lady Belamour kindly. "I am under obligations to you,
my dear. You seem to have tamed my little savages."
Aurelia was amazed, for the universal awe of my Lady had made her
expect a harsh and sever Semiramis style of woman, whereas she
certainly saw a majestic beauty, but with none of the terrors that
she had anticipated. The voice was musical and perfectly modulated,
the manner more caressing than imperious towards herself, and
studiously polite to the house keeper. While orders were being
given as to arrangements, Aurelia took in the full details of the
person of whom she had heard so much. It seemed incredible that Lady
Belamour could have been mother to contemporaries of Betty, for she
looked younger than Betty herself. Her symmetry and carriage were
admirable, and well shown by the light blue habit laced richly and
embroidered with silver. A small round hat with a cluster of white
ostrich feathers was placed among the slightly frizzed and powdered
masses of mouse-coloured hair, surmounting a long ivory neck, whose
graceful turn, the theme of many a sonnet, was not concealed by the
masculine collar of the habit. The exquisite oval contour of the
cheek, the delicate ear, and Grecian profile were as perfect in
moulding as when she had been Sir Jovian's bride, and so were the
porcelain blue of the eyes, the pencilled arches of eyebrow, and
the curve of the lips, while even her complexion retained its
smooth texture, and tints of the lily and rose. Often as Aurelia
had heard of her beauty, its splendour dazzled and astonished her,
even in this travelling dress.
Archer, who was about a year older than his sisters, was more like
Amoret than the other two, with azure eyes, golden curls, and a plump
rosy face, full of fun and mischief. Tired of the confinement of the
coach, he was rushing round the house with Amoret, opening the doors
and looking into the rooms. The other little sisters remained beside
Aurelia till their mother said, pointing to Fay: "That child seems to
mean to eat me with her eyes. Let all the children be with Nurse Dove,
Mrs. Aylward. Miss Delavie will do me the pleasure of supping with me
at seven. Present my compliments to Mr. Belamour, and let him know
that I will be with him at eight o'clock on particular business."
Then turning to the two children, she asked their names, and was
answered by each distinctly, with the orthodox "madam" at the end.
"You are improved, little ones," she said: "Did Cousin Aurelia teach
you?"
"And Mammy Rolfe," said constant Fay.
"She must teach you next not to stare," said Lady Belamour. "I intend
to take one to be a companion to my boy, in the country. When I saw
them before, they were rustic little monsters; but they are less
unpresentable now. Call your sister, children." And, as the two left
the room, she continued: "Which do you recommend, cousin?"
"Fidelia is the most reasonable, madam," said Aurelia.
"But not the prettiest, I trust. She is too like her father, with
those dark brows, and her eyes have a look deep enough to frighten
one. They will frighten away the men, if she do not grow out of it."
Here the door burst open, and, without any preliminary bow, Master
Archer flew in, crying out "Mamma, mamma, we _must_ stay here. The
galleries are so long, and it is such a place for whoop-hide!"
His sisters were following his bad example, and rushing in with equal
want of ceremony, but though their mother held the boy unchecked on
her knee, Aurelia saw how she could frown. "You forget yourselves,"
she said.
Amoret looked ready to cry, but at a sign from their young instructress,
they backed and curtsied, and their mother reviewed them; Letitia was
the most like the Delavies, but also the smallest, while Amoret was on
the largest scale and would pair best with her brother, who besides
loudly proclaimed his preference for her, and she was therefore elected
to the honour of being taken home. Aurelia was requested as a favour
to bid the children's woman have the child's clothes ready repaired to
her own room.
The little wardrobe could only be prepared by much assistance from
Aurelia herself, and she could attend to nothing else; while the
children were all devoted to Archer, and she only heard their voices
in the distance, till--as she was dressing for her _tete-a-tete_
supper--Fay came to her crying, "Archer is a naughty boy--he said
wicked words--he called her ugly, and had cuffed and pinched her!"
Poor child! she was tired out, and disappointed, and Aurelia could
only comfort her by hearing her little prayers, undressing her, and
giving her the highly-esteemed treat of sleeping in Cousin Aura's
bed; while the others were staying up as long as it pleased Master
Archer. This actually was the cause of my Lady being kept waiting,
and an apology was needful. "Fidelia was tired out, and was crying."
"A peevish child! I am glad I did not choose her."
"She is usually very good, madam," said Aurelia, eagerly.
"Is she your favourite?"
"I try not to make favourites, madam."
"Ah! there spoke the true Manor House tone," said her Ladyship, rather
mockingly. "Maybe she will be a wit, for she will never be a beauty,
but the other little one will come on in due time after Amoret."
"Your Ladyship will find Amoret a dear, good, affectionate child," said
Aurelia. "Only---"
"Reserve that for nurse, so please you, my good girl. It is enough
for me to see the brats on their good manners now and then. You have
had other recreations--shall I call them, or cares? I never supposed,
when I sent you here to attend on the children, that the hermit of
Bowstead would summon you! I assure you it is an extraordinary honour."
"I so esteem it, madam," said Aurelia, blushing.
"More honour than pleasure, eh?"
"A great pleasure, madam."
"Say you so?" and the glittering blue eyes were keenly scanning the
modest face. "I should have thought a young maid like you would have
had the dismals at the mere notion of going near his dark chamber.
I promise you it gives me the megrim [migraine--D.L.] to look forward
to it."
"I was affrighted at first, madam," said Aurelia; "but Mr. Belamour
is so good and kind to me that I exceedingly enjoy the hours I spend
with him."
"La, child, you speak with warmth! We shall have you enamoured of a
voice like the youth they make sonnets about--what's his name?"
"Narcissus, madam," said Aurelia, put out of countenance by the banter.
"Oh, you are learned. Is Mr. Belamour your tutor, pray? And--oh fie!
I have seen that ring before!"
"He gave it to me yesterday," faltered Aurelia, "in case you should
intend to take me away, and I should not see him again. I hope I was
not wrong in accepting it, madam."
"Wrong, little fool, assuredly not," said my Lady, laughing. "It is
an ensign of victory. Why, child, you have made a conquest worthy
of--let me see. You, or the wits, could tell me who it was that
stormed the very den of Cocytus and bore off the spoil!"
Aurelia liked the tone too little to supply the names; yet she felt
flattered; but she said quietly, "I am happy to have been the means
of cheering him."
The grave artlessness of the manner acted as a kind of check, and Lady
Belamour said in a different tone, "Seriously, child, the family are
truly obliged for your share in rousing the poor creature from his
melancholy. My good man made the attempt, but all in vain. What do
you to divert him?"
In inquires of this kind the supper hour passed, and Lady Belamour was
then to keep her appointment with her brother-in-law. She showed so
much alarm and dread that Aurelia could not but utter assurances and
encouragements, which again awoke that arch manner, partly bantering,
partly flattering, which exercised a sort of pleasant perplexing
fascination on the simple girl.
After being dismissed, Aurelia went in search of Mrs. Dove, whom she
found with Molly, taking stock of Amoret's little wardrobe. The good
woman rose joyfully. "Oh, my dear missie! I am right thankful to
see you looking so purely. I don't know how I could have held up my
head to Miss Delavie if I had not seen you!"
"Ah! you will see my sister and all of them," cried Aurelia, a sudden
rush of home-sickness bringing tears to her eyes, in oblivion alike
of her recluse and her pupils. "Oh! if I were but going with you!
But what folly am I talking? You must not let them think I am not
happy, for indeed I am. Will you kindly come to my room, dear nurse,
and I will give you a packet for them?"
Mrs. Dove willingly availed herself of the opportunity of explaining
how guiltless she had been of the sudden separation at Knightsbridge
four months back. She had been in such haste to ride after and
overtake the coach, that she had even made Dove swear at her for
wanting to give the horses no time to rest, and she had ridden off
on her own particular pillion long before the rest. She had been
surprised that she never succeeded in catching up the carriage, but
never suspected the truth till she had dismounted in Hanover Square
and asked whether "Miss" were with my Lady. Nobody knew anything
about Miss Delavie, nor expected her; and the good woman's alarm was
great until she had had an interview with her Ladyship, when she was
told not to concern herself about the young lady, who was safely
bestowed in the country with the Miss Wayland. "But that it was
here, if you'll believe me, missie, I was as innocent as the babe
unborn, and so was his Honour, Sir Amyas. Indeed, my Lady gave
him to understand that she had put you to boarding-school with
his little sisters."
"Oh! nurse, that is impossible!"
"Lawk-a-day, missie, there's nothing my Lady wouldn't say to put him
off the scent. Bless you, 'tis not for us servants to talk, or I
could tell you tales! But there, mum's the word, as my Dove says,
or he wouldn't ha' sat on his box these twenty year!"
"My Lady is very kind to me," said Aurelia, with a little assumption
of her father's repressive manner.
"I'm right glad to hear it, Miss Aureely. A sweet lady she can be
when she is in the mood, though nothing like so sweet as his Honour.
'Tis ingrain with him down to the bone, as I may say--and I should
know, having had him from the day he was weaned. To see him come
up to the nussery, and toss about his little brother, would do your
very heart good; and then he sits him down, without a bit of pride,
and will have me tell him all about our journey up to Lunnon, and
the fair, and the play and all; and the same with Dove in the
stables. He would have the whole story, and how we was parted at
Knightsbridge, I never so much as guessing where you was--you that
your sister had given into my care! At last, one day when I was
sitting a darning of stockings in the window at the back, where I
can see out over to the green fields, up his Honour comes, and says
he, with his finger to his lips, 'Set your heart at rest, nurse,
I've found her!' Then he told me how he went down to see his old
uncle. Mr. Wayland had been urging him on one side that 'twas no
more than his duty; and her Ladyship, on the other, would have it
that Mr. Belamour was right down melancholy mad, and would go into
a raving fit if his nevvy did but go near the place."
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