Beauchamp; or, The Error.

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XXXVI.

  And what were Ned Hayward and Mary Clifford talking about? Wait oneminute, and you shall hear all about it; but first let me pause tomake only one remark. I have observed during some acquaintance withlife, and a good deal of examination into all its curious littlebyways and narrow alleys, that the conversation which takes placebetween two people left alone to talk together, without any witnessesbut green fields and bowery trees, is never, or at least very seldom,that which any one, even well acquainted with them, would haveanticipated from a previous knowledge of their characters. It was anextremely right, just, and proper view of the case, that was taken,when people (I do not know who), decided that three forms acongregation. We all know it: we all feel it instinctively. Three is acongregation; and when we speak before a congregation, we speak to acongregation.

  But Mary Clifford and Ned Hayward were alone together; and now a wordor two upon the frame of mind in which they met. Ned Hayward, sincefirst we introduced him to our readers, had taken a great part in manythings where Mary Clifford was concerned. He had first made heracquaintance in rescuing her gallantly from the brutal and shamelessattempt to carry her off, of a man whom she detested. He had told herkindly and frankly of her uncle's embarrassed and dangerous situation.He had without the slightest ostentation offered the means ofrelieving him from the most pressing of his difficulties, and had goneup to London to accomplish what he offered, with a mixture of delicacyof feeling and gay open-hearted readiness, which doubled the value ofall he did. He had come down again, fought a duel with the man who hadinsulted her, received a severe wound, suffered, and put himself togreat inconvenience; and then had been found prepared at the moment ofneed, to redeem his given word in her uncle's behalf, withouthesitation or reluctance, though evidently at a great sacrifice.

  Nevertheless, all these things might have gone no further than themind, even with a calm, gentle, feeling creature like herself.Gratitude she could not have avoided entertaining under suchcircumstances, respect, very high esteem; but she might have feltnothing more had that been all. There was a great deal more, however.Ned Hayward had disappointed all Mary Clifford's preconceived ideas ofhis character; and had gone on growing upon her regard every hour. Shehad found him thoughtful, where she had believed him to be heedless;feeling, where she had expected him to be selfish; full of deepemotions, where she had fancied him light; well-informed and ofcultivated tastes, instead of superficial and careless; and beingimperatively called upon to do him justice in her own heart, she wenton and did perhaps something more. But still this was not all; he hadfirst excited wonder, curiosity, and pleasure, then admiration andesteem, then interest and sympathy. Tie all these up in a parcel, withgratitude for great services rendered, and a great number of musingsregarding him in silence and in solitude, and what will be the result?Day by day after the duel she had thought of him--perhaps, I mighthave said, night after night. Then, when she had seen him again, andknew him to be ill and suffering, she had thought of him with deeperfeelings still, and even oftener than before; and when at length hecame over with reviving health, and took up his abode in the samehouse with herself, she returned to her old manner of thinking of him,with a number of new sensations blending in her meditations; and shefancied that she was studying his character all the while. What was itthat she compared it to? She thought it was like a deep beautifulvalley, so full of sunshine, that no eye, but one very near, could seethe fair things that it contained. I do not know what all this was,readers; but I think it looked very like falling in love.

  Nevertheless, though these things might cause Mary Clifford to loveEdward Hayward, the reader may suppose that they afforded no reasonwhy he should love her--but that is a mistake. Love is like a cast anda mould, where there is an impression upon both, different, yetrepresenting the same object. Love at first sight--love which springsmerely from the eye, is a thing apart; but love which proceeds fromacts and words and looks, is generally, though not always,conscientious. The very deeds, which performed towards another, begetit in that other, beget it also in ourselves. A woman is cherished andprotected. She loves the being who does cherish and protect her,because he does; and he loves her because he cherishes and protects.Ned Hayward had thought Mary exquisitely beautiful from the first; butthat would not have been enough--he was not a doll fancier! But herconversation pleased him, her gentle sweetness charmed him, hersituation and all that it produced between them interested him,and ... But he had thoroughly made up his mind not to fall in love;and that was all that was wanting to make the thing complete. Therewas only one difficulty or objection. Mary Clifford had, what wascalled in those days, a large fortune. The dean, her father, had beena wealthy and a prudent man; and he had left her about two thousand ayear, her mother's jointure not included. Now, Ned Hayward had, as thereader knows, very little from the beginning; that little was nowstill less; and he had determined to hate all heiresses. Hate MaryClifford! Pooh, pooh, Ned Hayward!

  However, a certain undefinable sensation of being very far gone inlove--the perception of feeling she had never experienced before, hadmade him very sad and uneasy for the last five or six days. He wouldhave run away if he could; for he thought there was only safety inflight. But he could not go. He was not well enough to take a longjourney; and he had promised Beauchamp to stay for his marriage. Butmarriage is an infectious disease; and even in its incipient stages,it is catching. Ned Hayward thought a great deal of marriage duringthose five or six days, of what a lucky man Beauchamp was, and of howhappy he would be if he had only a tithe of his wealth--with MaryClifford. But Ned Hayward was not a man to find himself in a difficultand dangerous situation without facing it boldly. He felt, that he hadsuffered himself to be entangled in a very tough sort of the tenderpassion, and he resolved to break through the net, and, in fact, quitTarningham-house as soon as possible. But a few days remained to bepassed ere that appointed for Beauchamp's marriage; and he fancied hecould very well get through that short period without any furtherdanger or detriment. "He would see as little of Mary Clifford aspossible," he thought; "he would employ himself in reading, in walking,in riding out with Sir John, as soon as he was strong enough;" andthus, as usual with all men, he proposed to do a thousand things,that he never did at all; and consoled himself with resolutions thatcould not be executed.

  On the day of Beauchamp's departure for London, Ned Hayward roseearly, breakfasted with his friend, saw him off, and then, accordingto the plan he had proposed, walked out into the fine sunny morningair, intending to spend the greater part of the summer day in some ofthe cool and more retired parts of the park.

  It was, at least, two hours before the usual time of breakfast;he had not an idea that any of the family was up; and thus pursuingone of the gravel walks away from the house, he went in among thechestnut-trees, and strolled on, fancying himself perfectly alone inthe woods, when suddenly, in taking a turn, the path showed him thefair face and graceful form of Mary Clifford advancing towards him atthe distance of about fifty or sixty paces. To avoid her, of course,was quite out of the question; but Ned Hayward resolved, that he wouldonly speak to her for a moment, and then go on. But, Heaven knows howit happened; in about two minutes he might be seen turning round withher; and their walk continued for nearly an hour and a half.

  "Well, Miss Clifford," he said, with as gay a look as he couldcommand, "Beauchamp is gone. Have you been taking a long walk?"

  "No, not very far," answered Mary, "I saw some strange people crossingthe park; and ever since that adventure which first made us acquaintedwith each other, I have become very cowardly. I therefore turned back;otherwise I should have much enjoyed a ramble for I have a slightheadache."

  What could Ned Hayward do under such circumstances? He could not avoidoffering to escort and protect Miss Clifford--he could not evenhesitate to propose it. Mary did not refuse; but her yes, was timidlyspoken; and, instead of turning back with Ned Hayward through the wildwood walks, she made him turn back with her, and led him to the moreopen parts
of the park, where the house was generally in sight.

  A momentary silence had fallen over both before they issued forth fromunder the chestnut-trees; and each felt some awkwardness in breakingthat silence: the surest possible sign of there being very strongfeelings busy at the heart; but Mary felt that the longer the silencecontinued, the more awkward would it become, and the more clearlywould it prove that she was thoughtful and embarrassed; and thereforeshe spoke at random, saying,

  "What a beautiful day it is for Lord Lenham's journey. I envy him thefirst twenty miles of his drive."

  "I envy him in all things," answered Ned Hayward; "his life may, and,indeed, seems likely to be made up of beautiful days; and I am verysure that mine is not."

  "Nay, Captain Hayward," said Mary, raising her eyes gently to hisface, and shaking her head with a smile, "you are in low spirits andunwell, otherwise you would never take so bright a view of yourfriend's fate, and so dark a one of your own. Many a fair andbeautiful day may be, and ought to be, in reserve for you. Indeed,they must be; for your own heart lays up, by the acts it prompts, astore of sunshine and brightness for the days to come."

  "May it not rather lay up, by the feelings it experiences, a store ofbitterness and sorrow, of clouds and darkness?" asked Ned Hayward, ina tone so different from that he commonly used, that Mary started,gazed for a moment at him, and then, letting her eyes fall again asthey met his, first coloured slightly, and then turned pale. By themarks of emotion which she displayed, Ned Hayward was led to believe,that he had spoken too plainly of what he had never intended to touchupon at all; and he hastened to repair the error.

  "What I mean is simply this, my dear Miss Clifford," he said; "a manwho enjoys himself very much--as I do--feels pain in the sameproportion, or perhaps more keenly. Every source of pleasure is aninlet to pain, and as we go on continually in this world, losingsomething dear to us, day by day, I am occasionally inclined to envythose cold phlegmatic gentlemen who, with a very tolerable store ofpleasures, have few pains but corporeal ones. I never pretend to be avery sentimental person, or to have very fine feelings, or any thingof that sort; but now as an instance of what I was speaking of, Icannot think of quitting this beautiful spot, and all the friends whohave shown me so much kindness, as I must do on Monday next, without asort of sinking at the heart, which is very unpleasant."

  "You do not mean to say you are going on Monday!" exclaimed MissClifford, pausing suddenly, with the colour varying in her cheek.

  Ned Hayward was surprised and pleased; for there was no attempt toconceal that his staying or going was a matter of interest to her. Heanswered, however, gravely, even sadly,

  "I fear I must."

  "But you have forgotten your promised visit to us at Hinton," saidMary, reproachfully, and deadly pale; "you promised to come, you know;I have counted upon that visit as affording an opportunity of settlinghow and where, when I come of age, which will now be in a few months,the money you so generously lent me, can be repaid.--Indeed," sheadded, earnestly, "you must come there for a few days, even if you donot stay here."

  There was a tenderness, a tremulous softness in her tone, a slight yetsufficiently marked agitation in her manner, which made Ned Hayward'sheart beat.

  "Can I be beloved?" he asked himself. "Can she return the feelings shehas inspired? I will soon know!--My dear Miss Clifford," he replied,"I fear that visit would prove more dangerous to me than this hasbeen; and, therefore, however unwillingly--however great would havebeen the delight, I must decline it."

  Mary Clifford looked down without uttering a word; but her cheekremained pale, her lip quivered as if she would fain have given voiceto some reply; and though her arm was not in his, he could feel thatshe trembled. Ned Hayward's heart beat too; but there was, as we haveoften seen before, a frankness, a straightforward simplicity in hishabitual course of action, which overleaped many a difficulty thatwould have baffled other men.

  "Let me explain," he said, but Mary made a slight motion with herhand, saying,

  "Oh, no, no!" in a faint tone, and then she repeated the word"dangerous!"

  "Yes," he said, "more dangerous, dear Miss Clifford! Can you notconceive how and why?--In a word, then, I cannot and must not staywith you longer. I must by as speedy a return as possible to otheroccupations, make an effort to forget that I have ever seen one, whomI fear I have already known too long for the peace of my whole life."

  He paused for a moment with a sigh, raised his head high the nextinstant, and then added, "I have but one favour to ask you, which isthis--not to let what I have just said make any difference in yourdemeanor towards me, during the short period of my stay. I had nointention of troubling your ear with such things at all; but your ownquestion brought forth what I would willingly have concealed--perhapsin this I have been wrong; but believe me, I am very well aware thatdifference of fortune has placed a barrier between us which cannot beoverleaped. This is the only favour, then, dear lady--do not altertowards me--let me see you ever the same as I have yet beheld you; andwhen I go away for ever, let me carry with me the remembrance of MaryClifford as a picture of all that deserves love and admiration uponearth.--Do not, do not change, notwithstanding my rash confessions."

  Mary Clifford looked up in his face, and a varying light played in hereyes, as if, at one moment, it was about to break forth sportively,and at another would have drowned itself out in tears.

  "I must change, Hayward!" she said at length, with a bright smile uponher lip, "indeed you ask too much. How can you expect that I shouldlive in the same house with you, and know that you love me, withoutshowing in some degree what is passing in my own breast?"

  "Mary! Mary!" he exclaimed, laying his hand upon her arm, and gazingin her face, "you would not--oh, I am sure you would not trifle withme--"

  "Not for the world," she answered. "Edward, I am incapable of triflingwith any man; but with you, to whom I owe so much, it would be baseindeed!"

  "But the great disparity of fortune," said her lover, with the shadeagain upon his brow. "Oh, Mary, how can it ever be? You, I have heard,are wealthy--they call you 'the heiress'--and I know myself to bepoor. Are you aware--surely I told you, that all I had saved out ofthe wreck of my father's fortune, only amounted at first to--"

  "Will you pain me?--Do you wish to grieve me?" asked Mary Clifford,"if not, do not mention such matters as in any way likely to affect myfeelings or conduct; and yet I do not wish you to consider me as aromantic girl, for I am not. I have always thought that a competencemust be possessed to render the lives of any two people happy; butsurely it matters not on whose side that competence comes. We shallhave enough, Edward, for happiness, and though I know it would havebeen more pleasure to yourself if the greater part of our littlefortune had been brought by you, yet I am very glad that _I_ have it,as you have not."

  "But your mother--your guardian, Mary?" said Ned Hayward, still in adoubtful tone.

  Mary laughed, but with a slight touch of vexation in the tone; and sheexclaimed,

  "I do believe he will not have me, even when I have almost offeredmyself to him!"

  But Ned Hayward would not lie under that imputation, and he cast hisarms round his fair companion, assuring her that if she had the wealthof the world, the only portion he would value would be herself.

  Mary freed herself gently from his embrace; and suffering him to drawher arm through his, walked on with him till the breakfast hour wasfully come.