Books: The Pillars of the House, V1

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Pillars of the House, V1

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Mr. Audley was dizzy with consternation. Fernando was no child. He
was full sixteen, and he was so far recovered that his health formed
no reason for detaining him. If he chose to go with his uncle, he
_must_. If not--what then? He looked at Fernando, who sat uneasily.

'You hear what your uncle says?' he asked.

'I told him,' said Fernando, 'I must wait for a fortnight.' He spoke
with eyes cast down, but not irresolutely.

His uncle broke out--He knew what that meant; it was only that he
might be flattered by the Bishop and all the ladies, and made a
greater fool of than ever. No, no, he must be out again by May, and
he should just have time to take Fernan to one of the gay boarding-
houses at Saratoga, and leave him there to enjoy himself.

'I have letters from my father,' said Fernando, looking up to Mr.
Audley, 'before he went to Oregon. He said nothing.'

'Do you wish to stay?' said Mr. Audley, feeling that all depended on
that, and trying to hide the whirl of anxiety and disappointment he
felt.

The answer was not what he expected. Fernando sat upright in his
chair, looked up to him and then at his uncle, and said low but
resolutely, 'I will stay.'

'Then you shall stay,' said Mr. Audley.

'You have worked upon him, I see, sir, with your old-world prejudiced
superstition,' said Alfred Travis, evidently under the delusion that
he was keeping his temper. 'A proper fool my brother was to leave him
to you. But you do it at your peril. I shall see if there's power
even in this old country to keep a boy from his own relations. You'll
see me again, Fernan. You had better make ready.'

The words were not unaccompanied with expletives such as had never
been personally uttered to Charles Audley before, and that brought
the hot colour to his cheek. When he looked round, Fernando's face
was covered with his hands. 'Oh! Mr. Audley,' he cried, as his uncle
hastily shut the door, 'is he going to send for the police?'

'I do not believe he can do any such thing,' said Mr. Audley, seeing
that Fernando was in great nervous agitation. 'I have authority from
your father, he has none; and you are old enough to make your own
decision. You really mean and wish to stay?' he added.

'I told him so from the first,' said Fernando.

'Then he has no power to force you away.'

Fernando was silent. Then he said, 'If I could have gone after my
Baptism.'

'Would you have wished that?' said Mr. Audley, somewhat disappointed.

The tears were now on the long black lashes.

'Oh, don't think me ungrateful, or-- But this English life does come
over me as intolerably dull and slow. No life nor go in it. Sometimes
I feel sick of it; and going back to books and all, after what I have
been used to. If my uncle could wait for my Baptism, or,' more
hesitating, 'if I could be baptized at once. Men do lead Christian
lives out there. I would try to keep from evil, Mr. Audley. I see
your face! Is this another temptation of the devil?'

'I think it is an attempt of his,' said Mr. Audley, sadly. 'Even here
you have not been able to abstain entirely from giving way to your
old passion, when you had little temptation, and felt your honour
bound. What will it be when you have comparatively no restraint?'

'I am resolved not to go unbaptized,' said Fernando. 'I said so from
the first, but he will not wait! Yet if my father sends for me, I
must go.'

'Then it will be your duty, and you will have more right to look for
help. Besides, a summons from your father could not come for three or
four months, and in that time you would have had time to gain
something in Christian practice and training.'

'Oh, there is the bell! Must you go, Mr. Audley? He will come back!'

'I wish I could stay, but Smith is gone to Dearport, and I do not
know whether the Rector is in. Besides, this must be your own doing,
Fernan, not mine. I shall pray for you, that you well know. Pray for
yourself, for this is a real crisis of life. God bless you, my dear
boy.' He laid his hand on the head, and Fernando looked up
gratefully, then said, 'You never did that before. May Lance come to
me, if he has not gone?'

'I will call him,' said Mr. Audley, seeing that he really dreaded
being alone. The little boy was on the stairs with something in his
hand. 'Go in to Fernan,' he was told, 'he wants you. What have you
got there?'

'This queer drawing. Cherry found it in an old portfolio, and has
been copying it.'

It was Ketzsch's outline of the chess-player, and it almost startled
Mr. Audley by its appropriateness. He went out to Evensong, and never
was more glad to get back to reinforce the feeble garrison.

Lance opened the front door to him. 'I'm so glad you are come!' he
said. 'Mr. Bruce is there.'

'Not the uncle?'

'No, only Mr. Bruce.'

Mr. Bruce was a lawyer, and a very respectable man, in whom Mr.
Audley felt confidence. He rose at the clergyman's entrance, and
asked to speak to him in another room, so he was taken into the
little back dining-room, and began--'This is a very unpleasant
business, Mr. Audley; this gentleman is very much annoyed, and
persuaded that he has a right to carry off his nephew; but as I told
him, it all turns upon the father's expressions. Have you any written
authority from him?'

Mr. Audley had more than one letter, thanking him, and expressing
full satisfaction in the proposed arrangements for Fernando; and this
Mr. Bruce thought was full justification, together with the youth's
own decided wishes. The words were likewise clear, by which William
Travis had given consent to his son's Baptism, but there was no
witness of them. Mr. Bruce explained that Alfred Travis, who seemed
to regard Fernando as the common property of the brothers, had come
to him in what he gently termed 'a great state of excitement,'
complaining of a Puseyite plot. He had evidently taken umbrage at the
tone of the letters he had opened for his brother, and had been
further prejudiced by some Dearport timber merchant he had met at
Liverpool, who had told him how the parson had got hold of his
nephew, and related a farrago of gossip about St. Oswald's. He was
furious at the opposition, and could not understand that law in the
old country was powerless in this case, because he was neither father
nor guardian. In fact he seemed to be master of his brother; and Mr.
Bruce told Mr. Audley that it was quite to be considered whether
though law was on his side now, the father might not be brought over
to the brother's side, be very angry at the detention of the boy, and
refuse the payment, which, while he was in America, could not be
forced from him. Of that Mr. Audley could happily afford to run the
risk; and Mr. Bruce said he had also set before the young gentleman
that he might have to suffer much displeasure from his father for his
present refusal, although his right to make it was incontestable. To
this Fernando had likewise made up his mind; and Mr. Bruce, who had
never seen him before, thought he looked utterly unfit for a long
journey and sea voyage, so that the uncle had taken nothing by his
application to the law.

Fernando was flushed and panting, but more resolute, for resentment
at the attempt at force had come to back him up, and rouse the spirit
of resistance. Not half an hour had elapsed before there was another
ring at the door. The uncle and lawyer were come together now. It was
to make a last offer to Fernando; Mr. Alfred Travis offered to take
him up to London the next day, and there to have advice as to the
safety of the voyage, in the meantime letting him be baptized, if
nothing else would satisfy him, but by some London clergyman--not one
of the Bexley set whom the uncle regarded with such aversion.

Fernando drew himself up, and stood, leaning on the end of the sofa.
'Thank you, uncle,' he said, 'I cannot. I am obeying my father now,
and I will not leave those to whom he trusted me.'

There followed a volley of abuse of his English obstinacy and Spanish
pride and canting conceit, which made Mr. Bruce stand aghast, and
Fernando look up with burning cheeks and eyes glowing like hot coals;
but with the Indian impassibility he did not speak till Alfred Travis
had threatened him not only with his father's displeasure, but with
being cast off by both, and left to his English friends' charity.

'My father will not!' said Fernando. 'If he sends for me I will
come.' But there his strength suddenly collapsed, and he was forced
to sit down and lean back.

'Well, Fernan,' said his uncle, suddenly withdrawing his attempt when
he found it vain, 'you seem hardly in marching order, so I'm off by
the night train; but if you change your mind in the next week, write
to me at Peter Brown's--you know--and I'll run down. I will save you
the coming out by yourself. Good-bye.'

Mr. Bruce tarried one moment to aver that he was unprepared for his
client's violence, and that he thought the nephew had done quite
right.

The door was shut, and Mr. Audley came back holding out his hand, but
Fernando did not take it. He was occupied in supporting himself by
the furniture from the sofa to the fireplace, where, holding by the
mantelpiece with one hand, he took his dice from his pocket with the
other, and threw them into the reddest depth. Then he held the hand
to Mr. Audley, who wrung it, and said, 'It has been a hard fight, my
boy.'

Fernando laid his weary head on his shoulder, and said, 'If my father
is not poisoned against me!'

'Do not fear that, Fernando. You are where he left you. You have
given up something for the sake of your new Lord and Master; you will
have his armour another time.'

Fernando let himself be helped to sit down, and sighed. He was
thoroughly worn out, and his victory was not such as to enliven his
spirits. He took up the drawing that lay on the table, and gazed on
it in a sort of dreamy fascination.

'You have checked him this time,' said Mr. Audley.

'Here or there, I will never bet again,' said Fernan solemnly.

'God help me to keep the resolution! It is the one thing that I care
for, and I know I should have begun the first day I was away from
you.'

'I think that with those tastes you cannot make too strong a
resolution against it,' said Mr. Audley.

Their dinner was brought in, but Fernando had no appetite. He soon
returned to his chess player, and seemed to be playing over the game,
but he was too much tired for talk, and soon went to bed; where after
a short sleep feverishness set in, bringing something approaching to
delirium. The nurse had gone a fortnight previously; but as he was
still too helpless to have no one within call, Felix slept on the bed
in the corner of the room.

When he came down the opening of the door was greeted by 'Don't let
him come! Is Mr. Audley there!'

'Yes, he is not gone.'

Then he knew Felix, but soon began again to talk of the game at
chess, evidently mixing up his uncle with the personage with the long
feather.

'He has been checked once. I've taken one piece of his. He is gone
now. Will he come back after my Baptism? No; I shall go to him.'

This lasted till past midnight, when, as they were deliberating
whether to send for Mr. Rugg, he fell soundly asleep, and awoke in
the morning depressed, but composed and peaceful; and this state of
things continued. The encounter with his uncle, and the deliberate
choice, had apparently given some shock to his nerves; and whenever
night recurred, there came two or three hours of misery, and
apparently of temptation and terror. It took different forms.
Sometimes it was half in sleep--the acting over again of one or two
horrible scenes that he had partly witnessed in the Southern States,
when an emancipator had been hunted down, and the slaves who had
listened to him savagely punished. In spite of his Spanish blood, the
horror had been ineffaceable; and his imagination connected it with
the crowd of terrors that had revealed themselves to his awakened
conscience. He seemed to think that if he lost in the awful game of
life, he should be handed over to that terrible slave-master; and
there were times when Diego's fate, and his own lapses, so fastened
on his mind, as to make him despair of ever being allowed to quit
that slave-master's dominions; and that again joined with alarm lest
his uncle should return and claim him.

Sometimes, likewise, the old wandering life, with the flashes of
rollicking mirth and excitement, rather glimpsed at and looked
forward to than really tasted, would become so alluring a contrast to
the flat and tasteless--nay, as it seemed to him, tedious and
toilsome--future sketched out for him, and the restraints and
constant watchfulness of a Christians life appeared so distressing a
bondage, that his soul seemed to revolt against it, and he would talk
of following his uncle at once to London while yet it was time, and
writing to him the next morning. This state was sure to be followed
by a passion of remorse, and sheer delirious terror lest he should be
given up to the enemy, who seemed now to assume to his fancy the form
of his uncle. A great deal was no doubt delirious, and this betrayed
the struggles which he had been for weeks fighting out in silence and
apparent impassiveness; but it was impossible not to feel that
therewith was manifested the wrestling with the Prince of Darkness,
ere his subject should escape from his territory, and claim the
ransom of his manumission. Mr. Audley--after the second night--would
not let Felix remain, but took the watch entirely on himself, and
fought the battle with the foe by prayer and psalm. Sleep used to
come before morning; and by day Fernando was himself again, very
subdued and quiet, and, in fact, having lost a good deal of ground as
to health.

Strange to say, the greatest pleasure he had at this time was sitting
in the upstairs parlour. The custom had begun in consequence of his
nervous shuddering at being left alone lest his uncle should return,
and Felix and Geraldine had then proposed taking him to their mother,
who was rather interested than annoyed by his presence, and indeed
all her gentle motherly instinct was drawn out by his feebleness and
lameness; she talked to him kindly and quite rationally, and he was
wonderfully impressed and soothed by her tenderness. It was so
utterly unlike anything he had ever even seen, that he watched her
with a sort of awe; while Cherry worked, read aloud, or drew, and
felt proud of being able to fetch what was beyond the capacity of her
little errand boy, Bernard.

The children, too, entertained him; he was a little afraid of
Bernard's roughness, but delighted in watching him, and he and little
Stella were intensely admiring friends. She always knew him, cooed at
him, and preferred the gold of his watch-chain to all things in
nature or art. Then when Wilmet, Angela, and Lance came home, and
family chatter began, the weary anxious brain rested; and even in
that room, so sad to most eyes, Fernando began to realise what
Christian peace and cheerfulness could be.

CHAPTER VIII

THE HOME

'Within those walls each fluttering guest
Is gently lured to one safe nest;
Without, 'tis moaning and unrest.'
KEBLE.

A great delight came to Wilmet and Geraldine the day of the Bishop's
visit, no other than Alda's being able to spend a week with them.
Miss Pearson spared Wilmet that whole afternoon, that she might go up
to meet her at the station, whither she was escorted by a maid going
down to Centry.

There she was, in her pretty black silk, with violet trimmings,
looking thoroughly the grown young lady, but clinging tight to her
twin in an overflow of confused happiness, even while they stood
together to get their first glance of the Bishop, who came down by
the same train, and was met by Mr. Bevan with the carriage.

'I'm glad it is so nice and warm; it is better for Fernan, and Cherry
can go!' said Wilmet, ready for joy about everything.

'Nice and warm! 'Tis much colder than in London,' said Alda, with a
shiver. 'Has Cherry kept well this winter?'

'Quite well. She walks much better. And Marilda?'

'Oh, Marilda is always well. Rude health, her mother calls it. What
do you think she has sent you, Wilmet? A darling little watch! just
like this one of mine!'

'O Alda, you should not have let her. It is too much. Fernan wanted
to give Lance a watch, but Felix would not let him.'

'Yes, but he is not like Uncle Thomas, and it makes you like me.'

'That we shall never be quite again,' sighed Wilmet.

'Oh! a little setting off, and trimming up! I've brought down lots of
things. Aunt Mary said I might. What is this youth like, Wilmet--is
he a boy or a young man?'

'I don't know,' said Wilmet; 'he is younger than Felix, if that helps
you.'

'Well, Americans are old of their age. I have met some at Mr.
Roper's. Oh, and do you know, Mrs. Roper told Aunt Mary that these
Travises are quite millionaires, and that this youth's mother was a
prodigious Mexican heiress. Aunt Mary wants to ask him to Kensington
Palace Gardens, when he comes up to town! I'm glad I am in time for
the christening. Doesn't he have godfathers and godmothers?'

'Yes; he would have nobody but Felix and Mr. Audley, and Lady Price
chose to be his godmother; indeed, there was nobody else.'

'You could not well be, certainly,' laughed Alda. 'Oh! and I've
brought a dress down. I thought some of us might be asked to the
Rectory in the evening.'

'My dear Alda, as if such a thing ever happened!'

'Ah! you see I have been so long away as to forget my Lady's
manners.'

'Mr. Audley is going, and Fernan was asked, but he is not anything
like well enough. So when Mamma and the little ones go to bed, we are
to come down and spend the evening with him.'

'Fancy, Wilmet, I have quite been preparing Marilda for her
Confirmation. She had hardly been taught anything, and never could
have answered the questions if she had not come to me. She is always
asking me what Papa said about this and that; and it is quite
awkward, she will carry out everything so literally, poor dear girl.'

'She must be very good.'

'Oh! to be sure she is! But just fancy, she keeps a tithe of her
pocket-money to give to the Offertory so scrupulously; she would
really not buy something she wanted because it would have been just a
shilling into her tenth. I'm so glad she is confirmed. I never knew
what to do at church before. I couldn't go home by myself, and now a
servant always waits for us. Oh! how fast the poor hotel is building
again! It will brighten our street a little! Dear me, I did not know
how dingy it was!'

Nothing could look dingy where two such fair bright faces were; but
Alda's became awe-struck and anxious as she went up to her mother's
room. Indeed Mrs. Underwood looked up at her rather confused, and
scarcely knowing the fashionable young lady, and it was only when the
plumed hat was laid aside, and the two heads laid together, their
fair locks mingling, that she knew she had her elder twins again, and
stroked their faces with quiet delight.

There was scarcely more than time to kiss the little ones, and
contend with Stella's shyness, before first Lance hurried in and then
Felix, excused from his work two hours earlier. He could only just
run up and dress before he convoyed Geraldine to church, she having
the first turn of the chair, helped her to her seat near the Font,
and then came back for Fernando, who was under his special charge.

Fernando sat looking very pale, and with the set expression of the
mouth that always made Cherry think of Indians at the stake His
little new prayer-book was in his hand, and he was grasping it
nervously, but he said nothing, as Felix helped him up and Lance held
his crutch for him. It was his first entrance into a place of
worship. They had intended to have accustomed him a little to the
sights and sounds, but the weather and his ailment had prevented
them. He was drawn to the porch, and there Felix partly lifted him
out and up the step, while Lance took his hat for him, and as they
were both wanted for the choir procession that was to usher the
Bishop into church, they had to leave him in his place under
Geraldine's protection.

He had not in the least realised the effect of the interior of a
church. St. Oswald's was a very grand old building, with a deep
chancel a good deal raised, seen along a vista of heavy columns and
arched vaults, lighted from the clerestory, and with a magnificent
chancel-arch. The season was Lent, and the colouring of the
decorations was therefore grave, but all the richer, and the light
coming strongly in from the west window immediately over the
children's heads, made the contrast of the bright sunlight and of the
soft depths of mystery more striking, and, to an eye to which
everything ecclesiastical was absolutely new, the effect was almost
overwhelming. That solemnity and sanctity of long centuries, the
peaceful hush, the grave beauty and grandeur, almost made him afraid
to breathe, and Cherry sat by his side with her expressive face
composed into the serious but happy look that accorded with the whole
scene.

He durst not move or speak. His was a silent passive nature, except
when under strong stimulus, and Cherry respected his silence a great
deal too much to break upon it by any information. She was half sorry
when the noise of steps showed that the congregation were beginning
to drop in, chiefly of the other young Confirmation candidates. Then
presently Alda came, and whispered to her that Wilmet could not leave
Mamma; and presently after, Lady Price bustled in with her daughter,
looked severely at Alda under the impression that she was Wilmet very
improperly tricked out, and pressed Fernando's hand before going on
to her own place. Then came the low swell of the organ, another new
sensation to one who had only heard opera music; then the approaching
sound of the voices. Geraldine gave him the book open at the
processional psalm, and the white-clad choir passed by, one of the
first pair of choristers being Lance, singing with all his might, and
that merry monkey-face full of a child's beautiful happy reverence.
And again could be recognised Felix, Mr. Audley, Mr. Bevan, all whom
the poor sick stranger had come to love best, all to his present
perception glorified and beautiful. They had told him it would be all
faith and no sight, but he seemed to find himself absolutely within
that brighter better sphere to which they belonged, to see them
walking in it in their white robes, to hear their songs of praise,
and to know whence came that atmosphere that they carried about with
them, and that he had felt when it was a riddle to him.

And so the early parts of the service passed by him, not so much
attended to or understood as filling him with a kind of dreamy
rapturous trance, as the echoes of the new home, to which he, with
all his heavy sense of past stain and present evil propensity, was
gaining admission and adoption. For the first time he was really
sensible of the _happiness_ of his choice, and felt the compensation
for what he gave up.

When the Second Lesson was ended, and the clergy and the choir, in
their surplices, moved down to encircle the Font, it was as if they
came to gather him in among them. Felix came and helped him up. He
could stand now with one support, and this was his young godfather's
right arm, to which he held tightly, but without any nervous
convulsiveness--he was too happy for that now--during the prayers
that entreated for his being safely gathered into the Ark, and the
Gospel of admission into the Kingdom. He had an impulse to loose his
clasp and stand alone at the beginning of the vows, but he could not;
he had not withdrawn his hand before he was forced again to lean his
weight upon the steady arm beside him.

Nothing had been able to persuade Lady Price that she was not to make
all the vows as for an infant, but luckily nobody heard her except
her husband and the other sponsors, for it was a full, clear,
steadfast voice that made reply, 'I renounce them all!' and as the
dark deep eyes gazed far away into the west window, and Felix felt
the shudder through the whole frame, he knew the force of that
renunciation; and how it gave up that one excitement that the lad
really cared for. And when that final and carefully-guarded vow of
obedience was uttered, the pressure on his arm seemed to show that
the moral was felt of that moment's endeavour to stand alone.

The sound of prayer, save in his own chamber, was so entirely new,
that no doubt the force of the petitions was infinitely enhanced, and
the entreaty for the death of the old Adam had a definite application
to those old habits and tastes that at times exerted their force. The
right hand was ready and untrembling when the Rector took it; the
stream of water glittered as it fell on the awe-struck brow and jetty
hair, and the eyes shone out with a deep resolute lustre as
'Ferdinand Audley' was baptized into the Holy Name, and sworn a
faithful soldier and servant.

He had begged to be baptized by the English version of his name; the
Spanish one had grown up by a sort of accident, and had always been
regretted by his father. He had wished much to take the name of
Felix, but they were so certain that this would not be approved, that
they had persuaded him out of it. He was soon set down again by
Geraldine's side, and she put out her hand and squeezed his hard,
looking up into his face with tearful eyes of welcome.