CHAPTER XLVI

A LOVERS' PARTING

Now, to suppose oneself the fashioner of such a chain of events as this

which brought the whole of the Harrington family in tender unity together

once more, would have elated an ordinary mind. But to the Countess de

Saldar, it was simply an occasion for reflecting that she had

misunderstood--and could most sincerely forgive--Providence. She admitted

to herself that it was not entirely her work; for she never would have

had their place of meeting to be the Shop. Seeing, however, that her end

was gained, she was entitled to the credit of it, and could pardon the

means adopted. Her brother lord of Beckley Court, and all of them

assembled in the old 193, Main Street, Lymport! What matter for proud

humility! Providence had answered her numerous petitions, but in its own

way. Stipulating that she must swallow this pill, Providence consented to

serve her. She swallowed it with her wonted courage. In half an hour

subsequent to her arrival at Lymport, she laid siege to the heart of Old

Tom Cogglesby, whom she found installed in the parlour, comfortably

sipping at a tumbler of rum-and-water. Old Tom was astonished to meet

such an agreeable unpretentious woman, who talked of tailors and lords

with equal ease, appeared to comprehend a man's habits instinctively, and

could amuse him while she ministered to them.

'Can you cook, ma'am?' asked Old Tom.

'All but that,' said the Countess, with a smile of sweet meaning.

'Ha! then you won't suit me as well as your mother.'

'Take care you do not excite my emulation,' she returned, graciously,

albeit disgusted at his tone.

To Harriet, Old Tom had merely nodded. There he sat, in the arm-chair,

sucking the liquor, with the glimpse of a sour chuckle on his cheeks. Now

and then, during the evening, he rubbed his hands sharply, but spoke

little. The unbending Harriet did not conceal her disdain of him. When he

ventured to allude to the bankruptcy, she cut him short.

'Pray, excuse me--I am unacquainted with affairs of business--I cannot

even understand my husband.'

'Lord bless my soul!' Old Tom exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

Caroline had informed her sisters up-stairs that their mother was

ignorant of Evan's change of fortune, and that Evan desired her to

continue so for the present. Caroline appeared to be pained by the

subject, and was glad when Louisa sounded his mysterious behaviour by

saying:

'Evan has a native love of concealment--he must be humoured.'

At the supper, Mr. Raikes made his bow. He was modest and reserved. It

was known that this young gentleman acted as shopman there. With a

tenderness for his position worthy of all respect, the Countess spared

his feelings by totally ignoring his presence; whereat he, unaccustomed

to such great-minded treatment, retired to bed, a hater of his kind.

Harriet and Caroline went next. The Countess said she would wait up for

Evan, but hearing that his hours of return were about the chimes of

matins, she cried exultingly: 'Darling Papa all over!' and departed

likewise. Mrs. Mel, when she had mixed Old Tom's third glass, wished the

brothers good night, and they were left to exchange what sentiments they

thought proper for the occasion. The Countess had certainly, disappointed

Old Tom's farce, in a measure; and he expressed himself puzzled by her.

'You ain't the only one,' said his brother. Andrew, with some effort,

held his tongue concerning the news of Evan--his fortune and his folly,

till he could talk to the youth in person.

All took their seats at the early breakfast next morning.

'Has Evan not come--home yet?' was the Countess's first question.

Mrs. Mel replied, 'No.'

'Do you know where he has gone, dear Mama?'

'He chooses his own way.'

'And you fear that it leads somewhere?' added the Countess.

'I fear that it leads to knocking up the horse he rides.'

'The horse, Mama! He is out on a horse all night! But don't you see, dear

old pet! his morals, at least, are safe on horseback.'

'The horse has to be paid for, Louisa,' said her mother, sternly; and

then, for she had a lesson to read to the guests of her son, 'Ready money

doesn't come by joking. What will the creditors think? If he intends to

be honest in earnest, he must give up four-feet mouths.'

'Fourteen-feet, ma'am, you mean,' said Old Tom, counting the heads at

table.

'Bravo, Mama!' cried the Countess, and as she was sitting near her

mother, she must show how prettily she kissed, by pouting out her playful

lips to her parent. 'Do be economical always! And mind! for the sake of

the wretched animals, I will intercede for you to be his inspector of

stables.'

This, with a glance of intelligence at her sisters.

'Well, Mr. Raikes,' said Andrew, 'you keep good hours, at all

events--eh?'

'Up with the lark,' said Old Tom. 'Ha! 'fraid he won't be so early when

he gets rid of his present habits--eh?'

'Nec dierum numerum, ut nos, sed noctium computant,' said Mr. Raikes, and

both the brothers sniffed like dogs that have put their noses to a hot

coal, and the Countess, who was less insensible to the aristocracy of the

dead languages than are women generally, gave him the recognition that is

occasionally afforded the family tutor.

About the hour of ten Evan arrived. He was subjected to the hottest

embrace he had ever yet received from his sister Louisa.

'Darling!' she called him before them all. 'Oh! how I suffer for this

ignominy I see you compelled for a moment to endure. But it is but for a

moment. They must vacate; and you will soon be out of this horrid hole.'

'Where he just said he was glad to give us a welcome,' muttered Old Tom.

Evan heard him, and laughed. The Countess laughed too.

'No, we will not be impatient. We are poor insignificant people!' she

said; and turning to her mother, added: 'And yet I doubt not you think

the smallest of our landed gentry equal to great continental seigneurs. I

do not say the contrary.'

'You will fill Evan's head with nonsense till you make him knock up a

horse a week, and never go to his natural bed,' said Mrs. Mel, angrily.

'Look at him! Is a face like that fit for business?'

'Certainly, certainly not!' said the Countess.

'Well, Mother, the horse is dismissed,--you won't have to complain any

more,' said Evan, touching her hand. 'Another history commences from

to-day.'

The Countess watched him admiringly. Such powers of acting she could not

have ascribed to him.

'Another history, indeed!' she said. 'By the way, Van, love! was it out

of Glamorganshire--were we Tudors, according to Papa? or only Powys

chieftains? It's of no moment, but it helps one in conversation.'

'Not half so much as good ale, though!' was Old Tom's comment.

The Countess did not perceive its fitness, till Evan burst into a laugh,

and then she said:

'Oh! we shall never be ashamed of the Brewery. Do not fear that, Mr.

Cogglesby.'

Old Tom saw his farce reviving, and encouraged the Countess to patronize

him. She did so to an extent that called on her Mrs. Mel's reprobation,

which was so cutting and pertinent, that Harriet was compelled to defend

her sister, remarking that perhaps her mother would soon learn that

Louisa was justified in not permitting herself and family to be classed

too low. At this Andrew, coming from a private interview with Evan, threw

up his hands and eyes as one who foretold astonishment but counselled

humility. What with the effort of those who knew a little to imply a

great deal; of those who knew all to betray nothing; and of those who

were kept in ignorance to strain a fact out of the conflicting innuendos

the general mystification waxed apace, and was at its height, when a name

struck on Evan's ear that went through his blood like a touch of the

torpedo.

He had been called into the parlour to assist at a consultation over the

Brewery affairs. Raikes opened the door, and announced, 'Sir Franks and

Lady Jocelyn.'

Them he could meet, though it was hard for his pride to pardon their

visit to him there. But when his eyes discerned Rose behind them, the

passions of his lower nature stood up armed. What could she have come for

but to humiliate, or play with him?

A very few words enabled the Countess to guess the cause for this visit.

Of course, it was to beg time! But they thanked Evan. For something

generous, no doubt.

Sir Franks took him aside, and returning remarked to his wife that she

perhaps would have greater influence with him. All this while Rose sat

talking to Mrs. Andrew Cogglesby, Mrs. Strike, and Evan's mother. She saw

by his face the offence she had committed, and acted on by one of her

impulses, said: 'Mama, I think if I were to speak to Mr. Harrington--'

Ere her mother could make light of the suggestion, Old Tom had jumped up,

and bowed out his arm.

'Allow me to conduct ye to the drawing room, upstairs, young lady. He'll

follow, safe enough!'

Rose had not stipulated for that. Nevertheless, seeing no cloud on her

mother's face, or her father's, she gave Old Tom her hand, and awaited a

movement from Evan. It was too late to object to it on either side. Old

Tom had caught the tide at the right instant. Much as if a grim old genie

had planted them together, the lovers found themselves alone.

'Evan, you forgive me?' she began, looking up at him timidly.

'With all my heart, Rose,' he answered, with great cheerfulness.

'No. I know your heart better. Oh, Evan! you must be sure that we respect

you too much to wound you. We came to thank you for your generosity. Do

you refuse to accept anything from us? How can we take this that you

thrust on us, unless in some way--'

'Say no more,' he interposed. 'You see me here. You know me as I am,

now.'

'Yes, yes!' the tears stood in her eyes. 'Why did I come, you would ask?

That is what you cannot forgive! I see now how useless it was. Evan! why

did you betray me?'

'Betray you, Rose?'

'You said that you loved me once.'

She was weeping, and all his spirit melted, and his love cried out: 'I

said "till death," and till death it will be, Rose.'

'Then why, why did you betray me, Evan? I know it all. But if you

blackened yourself to me, was it not because you loved something better

than me? And now you think me false! Which of us two has been false? It

's silly to talk of these things now too late! But be just. I wish that

we may be friends. Can we, unless you bend a little?'

The tears streamed down her cheeks, and in her lovely humility he saw the

baseness of that pride of his which had hitherto held him up.

'Now that you are in this house where I was born and am to live, can you

regret what has come between us, Rose?'

Her lips quivered in pain.

'Can I do anything else but regret it all my life, Evan?'

How was it possible for him to keep his strength?

'Rose!' he spoke with a passion that made her shrink, 'are you bound to

this man?' and to the drooping of her eyes, 'No. Impossible, for you do

not love him. Break it. Break the engagement you cannot fulfil. Break it

and belong to me. It sounds ill for me to say that in such a place. But

Rose, I will leave it. I will accept any assistance that your

father--that any man will give me. Beloved--noble girl! I see my

falseness to you, though I little thought it at the time--fool that I

was! Be my help, my guide-as the soul of my body! Be mine!'

'Oh, Evan!' she clasped her hands in terror at the change in him, that

was hurrying her she knew not whither, and trembling, held them

supplicatingly.

'Yes, Rose: you have taught me what love can be. You cannot marry that

man.'

'But, my honour, Evan! No. I do not love him; for I can love but one. He

has my pledge. Can I break it?'

The stress on the question choked him, just as his heart sprang to her.

'Can you face the world with me, Rose?'

'Oh, Evan! is there an escape for me? Think Decide!--No--no! there is

not. My mother, I know, looks on it so. Why did she trust me to be with

you here, but that she thinks me engaged to him, and has such faith in

me? Oh, help me!--be my guide. Think whether you would trust me

hereafter! I should despise myself.'

Not if you marry him!' said Evan, bitterly. And then thinking as men will

think when they look on the figure of a fair girl marching serenely to a

sacrifice, the horrors of which they insist that she ought to know:

half-hating her for her calmness--adoring her for her innocence: he said:

'It rests with you, Rose. The world will approve you, and if your

conscience does, why--farewell, and may heaven be your help.'

She murmured, 'Farewell.'

Did she expect more to be said by him? What did she want or hope for now?

And yet a light of hunger grew in her eyes, brighter and brighter, as it

were on a wave of yearning.

'Take my hand once,' she faltered.

Her hand and her whole shape he took, and she with closed eyes let him

strain her to his breast.

Their swoon was broken by the opening of the door, where Old Tom

Cogglesby and Lady Jocelyn appeared.

'Gad! he seems to have got his recompense--eh, my lady?' cried Old Tom.

However satisfactorily they might have explained the case, it certainly

did seem so.

Lady Jocelyn looked not absolutely displeased. Old Tom was chuckling at

her elbow. The two principal actors remained dumb.

'I suppose, if we leave young people to settle a thing, this is how they

do it,' her ladyship remarked.

'Gad, and they do it well!' cried Old Tom.

Rose, with a deep blush on her cheeks, stepped from Evan to her mother.

Not in effrontery, but earnestly, and as the only way of escaping from

the position, she said: 'I have succeeded, Mama. He will take what I

offer.'

'And what's that, now?' Old Tom inquired.

Rose turned to Evan. He bent and kissed her hand.

'Call it "recompense" for the nonce,' said Lady Jocelyn. 'Do you still

hold to your original proposition, Tom?'

'Every penny, my lady. I like the young fellow, and she's a jolly little

lass--if she means it:--she's a woman.'

'True,' said Lady Jocelyn. 'Considering that fact, you will oblige me by

keeping the matter quiet.'

'Does she want to try whether the tailor's a gentleman still, my

lady-eh?'

'No. I fancy she will have to see whether a certain nobleman may be one.'

The Countess now joined them. Sir Franks had informed her of her

brother's last fine performance. After a short, uneasy pause, she said,

glancing at Evan:--

'You know his romantic nature. I can assure you he was sincere; and even

if you could not accept, at least--'

'But we have accepted, Countess,' said Rose.

'The estate!'

'The estate, Countess. And what is more, to increase the effect of his

generosity, he has consented to take a recompense.'

'Indeed!' exclaimed the Countess, directing a stony look at her brother.

'May I presume to ask what recompense?'

Rose shook her head. 'Such a very poor one, Countess! He has no idea of

relative value.'

The Countess's great mind was just then running hot on estates, and

thousands, or she would not have played goose to them, you may be sure.

She believed that Evan had been wheedled by Rose into the acceptance of a

small sum of money, in return for his egregious gift.

With an internal groan, the outward aspect of which she had vast

difficulty in masking, she said: 'You are right--he has no head. Easily

cajoled!'

Old Tom sat down in a chair, and laughed outright. Lady Jocelyn, in pity

for the poor lady, who always amused her, thought it time to put an end

to the scene.

'I hope your brother will come to us in about a week,' she said. 'May I

expect the favour of your company as well?'

The Countess felt her dignity to be far superior as she responded: 'Lady

Jocelyn, when next I enjoy the gratification of a visit to your

hospitable mansion, I must know that I am not at a disadvantage. I cannot

consent to be twice pulled down to my brother's level.'

Evan's heart was too full of its dim young happiness to speak, or care

for words. The cold elegance of the Countess's curtsey to Lady Jocelyn:

her ladyship's kindly pressure of his hand: Rose's stedfast look into his

eyes: Old Tom's smothered exclamation that he was not such a fool as he

seemed: all passed dream-like, and when he was left to the fury of the

Countess, he did not ask her to spare him, nor did he defend himself. She

bade adieu to him and their mutual relationship that very day. But her

star had not forsaken her yet. Chancing to peep into the shop, to intrust

a commission to Mr. John Raikes, who was there doing penance for his

career as a gentleman, she heard Old Tom and Andrew laughing, utterly

unlike bankrupts.

'Who 'd have thought the women such fools! and the Countess, too!'

This was Andrew's voice. He chuckled as one emancipated. The Countess had

a short interview with him (before she took her departure to join her

husband, under the roof of the Honourable Herbert Duffian), and Andrew

chuckled no more.