Can You Forgive Her?
Page 67
CHAPTER LXV.
The First Kiss.
"Hush!" said the widow, "there's a carriage coming on the road--closeto us." Mrs. Greenow, as she spoke these words, drew back from theCaptain's arms before the first kiss of permitted ante-nuptial lovehad been exchanged. The scene was on the high road from Shap toVavasor, and as she was still dressed in all the sombre habilimentsof early widowhood, and as neither he nor his sweetheart were underforty, perhaps it was as well that they were not caught toyingtogether in so very public a place. But they were only just in timeto escape the vigilant eyes of a new visitor. Round the corner of theroad, at a sharp trot, came the Shap post-horse, with the Shap gigbehind him,--the same gig which had brought Bellfield to Vavasor onthe previous day,--and seated in the gig, looming large, with hiseyes wide awake to everything round him, was--Mr. Cheesacre.
It was a sight terrible to the eyes of Captain Bellfield, and by nomeans welcome to those of Mrs. Greenow. As regarded her, her annoyancehad chiefly reference to her two nieces, and especially to Alice.How was she to account for this second lover? Kate, of course, knewall about it; but how could Alice be made to understand that she,Mrs. Greenow, was not to blame,--that she had, in sober truth, toldthis ardent gentleman that there was no hope for him? And even asto Kate,--Kate, whom her aunt had absurdly chosen to regard as theobject of Mr. Cheesacre's pursuit,--what sort of a welcome wouldshe extend to the owner of Oileymead? Before the wheels had stopped,Mrs. Greenow had begun to reflect whether it might be possible thatshe should send Mr. Cheesacre back without letting him go on to theHall; but if Mrs. Greenow was dismayed, what were the feelings of theCaptain? For he was aware that Cheesacre knew that of him which hehad not told. How ardently did he now wish that he had sailed nearerto the truth in giving in the schedule of his debts to Mrs. Greenow.
"That man's wanted by the police," said Cheesacre, speaking while thegig was still in motion. "He's wanted by the police, Mrs. Greenow,"and in his ardour he stood up in the gig and pointed at Bellfield.Then the gig stopped suddenly, and he fell back into his seat in hiseffort to prevent his falling forward. "He's wanted by the police,"he shouted out again, as soon as he was able to recover his voice.
Mrs. Greenow turned pale beneath the widow's veil which she haddropped. What might not her Captain have done? He might have procuredthings, to be sent to him, out of shops on false pretences; or, urgedon by want and famine, he might have committed--forgery. "Oh, my!"she said, and dropped her hand from his arm, which she had taken.
"It's false," said Bellfield.
"It's true," said Cheesacre.
"I'll indict you for slander, my friend," said Bellfield.
"Pay me the money you owe me," said Cheesacre. "You're a swindler!"
Mrs. Greenow cared little as to her lover being a swindler in Mr.Cheesacre's estimation. Such accusations from him she had heardbefore. But she did care very much as to this mission of the policeagainst her Captain. If that were true, the Captain could be herCaptain no longer. "What is this I hear, Captain Bellfield?" shesaid.
"It's a lie and a slander. He merely wants to make a quarrel betweenus. What police are after me, Mr. Cheesacre?"
"It's the police, or the sheriff's officer, or something of thekind," said Cheesacre.
"Oh, the sheriff's officers!" exclaimed Mrs. Greenow, in a tone ofvoice which showed how great had been her relief. "Mr. Cheesacre, youshouldn't come and say such things;--you shouldn't, indeed. Sheriff'sofficers can be paid, and there's an end of them."
"I'll indict him for the libel--I will, as sure as I'm alive," saidBellfield.
"Nonsense," said the widow. "Don't you make a fool of yourself. Whenmen can't pay their way they must put up with having things like thatsaid of them. Mr. Cheesacre, where were you going?"
"I was going to Vavasor Hall, on purpose to caution you."
"It's too late," said Mrs. Greenow, sinking behind her veil.
"Why, you haven't been and married him since yesterday? He only hadtwenty-four hours' start of me, I know. Or, perhaps, you had it doneclandestine in Norwich? Oh, Mrs. Greenow!"
He got out of the gig, and the three walked back towards the Halltogether, while the boy drove on with Mr. Cheesacre's carpetbag. "Ihardly know," said Mrs. Greenow, "whether we can welcome you. Thereare other visitors, and the house is full."
"I'm not one to intrude where I'm not wanted. You may be sure ofthat. If I can't get my supper for love, I can get at for money.That's more than some people can say. I wonder when you're going topay me what you owe me, Lieutenant Bellfield?"
"I wonder when you're going to pay me what youowe me, Lieutenant Bellfield?"]
Nevertheless, the widow had contrived to reconcile the two men beforeshe reached the Hall. They had actually shaken hands, and the lambCheesacre had agreed to lie down with the wolf Bellfield. Cheesacre,moreover, had contrived to whisper into the widow's ears the trueextent of his errand into Westmoreland. This, however, he did not doaltogether in Bellfield's hearing. When Mrs. Greenow ascertained thatthere was something to be said, she made no scruple in sending herbetrothed away from her "You won't throw a fellow over, will you,now?" whispered Bellfield into her ear as he went. She merely frownedat him, and bade him begone, so that the walk which Mrs. Greenow beganwith one lover she ended in company with the other.
Bellfield, who was sent on to the house, found Alice and Katesurveying the newly arrived carpet bag. "He knows 'un," said the boywho had driven the gig, pointing to the Captain.
"It belongs to your old friend, Mr. Cheesacre," said Bellfield toKate.
"And has he come too?" said Kate.
The Captain shrugged his shoulders, and admitted that it was hard."And it's not the slightest use," said he, "not the least in theworld. He never had a chance in that quarter."
"Not enough of the rocks and valleys about him, was there, CaptainBellfield?" said Kate. But Captain Bellfield understood nothing aboutthe rocks and valleys, though he was regarded by certain eyes asbeing both a rock and a valley himself.
In the meantime Cheesacre was telling his story. He first asked, in amelancholy tone, whether it was really necessary that he must abandonall his hopes. "He wasn't going to say anything against the Captain,"he said, "if things were really fixed. He never begrudged any man hischance."
"Things are really fixed," said Mrs. Greenow.
He could, however, not keep himself from hinting that Oileymead wasa substantial home, and that Bellfield had not as much as a strawmattress to lie upon. In answer to this Mrs. Greenow told him thatthere was so much more reason why some one should provide the poorman with a mattress. "If you look at it in that light, of course it'strue," said Cheesacre. Mrs. Greenow told him that she did look at itin that light. "Then I've done about that," said Cheesacre; "and asto the little bit of money he owes me, I must give him his time aboutit, I suppose." Mrs. Greenow assured him that it should be paid assoon as possible after the nuptial benediction had been said overthem. She offered, indeed, to pay it at once if he was in distressfor it, but he answered contemptuously that he never was in distressfor money. He liked to have his own,--that was all.
After this he did not get away to his next subject quite so easilyas he wished; and it must be admitted that there was a difficulty.As he could not have Mrs. Greenow he would be content to put up withKate for his wife. That was his next subject. Rumours as to the oldSquire's will had no doubt reached him, and he was now willing totake advantage of that assistance which Mrs. Greenow had beforeoffered him in this matter. The time had come in which he ought tomarry; of that he was aware. He had told many of his friends inNorfolk that Kate Vavasor had thrown herself at his head, and veryprobably he had thought it true. In answer to all his love speechesto herself, the aunt had always told him what an excellent wife herniece would make him. So now he had come to Westmoreland with thissecond string to his bow. "You know you put it into my head your ownself," pleaded Mr. Cheesacre. "Didn't you, now?"
"But things are so different since that," said the widow.
"My niece has inherited property."
"And is that to make a change? Oh! Mrs. Greenow, who would havethought to find you mercenary like that? Inherited property! Is shegoing to fling a man over because of that?"
Mrs. Greenow endeavoured to explain to him that her niece could hardlybe said to have flung him over, and at last pretended to become angrywhen he attempted to assert his position. "Why, Mr. Cheesacre, I amquite sure she never gave you a word of encouragement in her life."
"But you always told me I might have her for the asking."
"And now I tell you that you mayn't. It's of no use your going onthere to ask her, for she will only send you away with an answeryou won't like. Look here, Mr. Cheesacre; you want to get married,and it's quite time you should. There's my dear friend CharlieFairstairs. How could you get a better wife than Charlie?"
"Charlie Fairstairs!" said Cheesacre, turning up his nose in disgust."She hasn't got a penny, nor any one belonging to her. The man whomarries her will have to find the money for the smock she stands upin."
"Who's mercenary now, Mr. Cheesacre? Do you go home and think of it;and if you'll marry Charlie, I'll go to your wedding. You shan't beashamed of her clothing. I'll see to that."
They were now close to the gate, and Cheesacre paused before heentered. "Do you think there's no chance at all for me, then?" saidhe.
"I know there's none. I've heard her speak about it."
"Somebody else, perhaps, is the happy man?"
"I can't say anything about that, but I know that she wouldn't takeyou. I like farming, you know, but she doesn't."
"I might give that up," said Cheesacre readily,--"at any rate, for atime."
"No, no, no; it would do no good. Believe me, my friend, that it isof no use."
He still paused at the gate. "I don't see what's the use of my goingin," said he. To this she made him no answer. "There's a pride aboutme," he continued, "that I don't choose to go where I'm not wanted."
"I can't tell you, Mr. Cheesacre, that you are wanted in that light,certainly."
"Then I'll go. Perhaps you'll be so good as to tell the boy withthe gig to come after me? That's six pound ten it will have cost meto come here and go back. Bellfield did it cheaper, of course; hetravelled second class. I heard of him as I came along."
"The expense does not matter to you, Mr. Cheesacre."
To this he assented, and then took his leave, at first offering hishand to Mrs. Greenow with an air of offended dignity, but falling backalmost into humility during the performance of his adieu. Before hewas gone he had invited her to bring the Captain to Oileymead whenshe was married, and had begged her to tell Miss Vavasor how happy heshould be to receive her. "And Mr. Cheesacre," said the widow, as hewalked back along the road, "don't forget dear Charlie Fairstairs."
They were all standing at the front door of the house when Mrs.Greenow re-appeared,--Alice, Kate, Captain Bellfield, the Shap boy,and the Shap horse and gig. "Where is he?" Kate asked in a low voice,and everyone there felt how important was the question. "He hasgone," said the widow. Bellfield was so relieved that he could notrestrain his joy, but took off his little straw hat and threw it upinto the air. Kate's satisfaction was almost as intense. "I am soglad," said she. "What on earth should we have done with him?" "Inever was so disappointed in my life," said Alice. "I have heard somuch of Mr. Cheesacre, but have never seen him." Kate suggested thatshe should get into the gig and drive after him. "He ain't a been andtook hisself off?" suggested the boy, whose face became very dismalas the terrible idea struck him. But, with juvenile craft, he put hishand on the carpet-bag, and finding that it did not contain stones,was comforted. "You drive after him, young gentleman, and you'll findhim on the road to Shap," said Mrs. Greenow. "Mind you give him mylove," said the Captain in his glee, "and say I hope he'll get histurnips in well."
This little episode went far to break the day, and did more thananything else could have done to put Captain Bellfield at his ease.It created a little joint-stock fund of merriment between the wholeparty, which was very much needed. The absence of such joint-stockfund is always felt when a small party is thrown together withoutsuch assistance. Some bond is necessary on these occasions, and noother bond is so easy or so pleasant. Now, when the Captain foundhimself alone for a quarter of an hour with Alice, he had plenty ofsubjects for small-talk. "Yes, indeed. Old Cheesacre, in spite of hisabsurdities, is not a bad sort of fellow at bottom;--awfully fond ofhis money, you know, Miss Vavasor, and always boasting about it.""That's not pleasant," said Alice. "No, the most unpleasant thing inthe world. There's nothing I hate so much, Miss Vavasor, as that kindof talking. My idea is this,--when a man has lots of money, let himmake the best use he can of it, and say nothing about it. Nobody everheard me talking about my money." He knew that Alice knew that he wasa pauper; but, nevertheless, he had the satisfaction of speaking ofhimself as though he were not a pauper.
In this way the afternoon went very pleasantly. For an hour beforedinner Captain Bellfield was had into the drawing-room and wastalked to by his widow on matters of business; but he had of courseknown that this was necessary. She scolded him soundly about thosesheriff's officers. Why had he not told her? "As long as there'sanything kept back, I won't have you," said she. "I won't become yourwife till I'm quite sure there's not a penny owing that is not shownin the list." Then I think he did tell her all,--or nearly all. Whenall was counted it was not so very much. Three or four hundred poundswould make him a new man, and what was such a sum as that to hiswealthy widow! Indeed, for a woman wanting a husband of that sort,Captain Bellfield was a safer venture than would be a man of a higherstanding among his creditors. It is true Bellfield might have beena forger, or a thief, or a returned convict,--but then his debtscould not be large. Let him have done his best, he could not haveobtained credit for a thousand pounds; whereas, no one could tell theliabilities of a gentleman of high standing. Burgo Fitzgerald was agentleman of high standing, and his creditors would have swallowed upevery shilling that Mrs. Greenow possessed; but with Captain Bellfieldshe was comparatively safe.
Upon the whole I think that she was lucky in her choice; or, perhaps,I might more truly say, that she had chosen with prudence. He was noforger, or thief--in the ordinary sense of the word; nor was he areturned convict. He was simply an idle scamp, who had hung about theworld for forty years, doing nothing, without principle, shameless,accustomed to eat dirty puddings, and to be kicked--morallykicked--by such men as Cheesacre. But he was moderate in hisgreediness, and possessed of a certain appreciation of the comfortof a daily dinner, which might possibly suffice to keep him fromstraying very wide as long as his intended wife should be able tokeep the purse-strings altogether in her own hands. Therefore, I saythat Mrs. Greenow had been lucky in her choice, and not altogetherwithout prudence.
"I think of taking this house," said she, "and of living here."
"What, in Westmoreland!" said the Captain, with something of dismayin his tone. What on earth would he do with himself all his life inthat gloomy place!
"Yes, in Westmoreland. Why not in Westmoreland as well as anywhereelse? If you don't like Westmoreland, it's not too late yet, youknow." In answer to this the poor Captain was obliged to declare thathe had no objection whatever to Westmoreland.
"I've been talking to my niece about it," continued Mrs. Greenow, "andI find that such an arrangement can be made very conveniently. Theproperty is left between her and her uncle,--the father of my otherniece, and neither of them want to live here."
"But won't you be rather dull, my dear?"
"We could go to Yarmouth, you know, in the autumn." Then theCaptain's visage became somewhat bright again. "And perhaps, if youare not extravagant, we could manage a month or so in London duringthe winter, just to see the plays and do a little shopping." Then theCaptain's face became very bright. "That wi
ll be delightful," saidhe. "And as for being dull," said the widow, "when people grow oldthey must be dull. Dancing can't go on for ever." In answer to thisthe widow's Captain assured the widow that she was not at all old;and now, on this occasion, that ceremony came off successfully whichhad been interrupted on the Shap road by the noise of Mr. Cheesacre'swheels. "There goes my cap," said she. "What a goose you are! Whatwill Jeannette say?" "Bother Jeannette," said the Captain in hisbliss. "She can do another cap, and many more won't be wanted." ThenI think the ceremony was repeated.
Upon the whole the Captain's visit was satisfactory--at any rate tothe Captain. Everything was settled. He was to go away on Saturdaymorning, and remain in lodgings at Penrith till the wedding, whichthey agreed to have celebrated at Vavasor Church. Kate promised to bethe solitary bridesmaid. There was some talk of sending for CharlieFairstairs, but the idea was abandoned. "We'll have her afterwards,"said the widow to Kate, "when you are gone, and we shall want hermore. And I'll get Cheesacre here, and make him marry her. There'sno good in paying for two journeys." The Captain was to be allowedto come over from Penrith twice a week previous to his marriage; orperhaps, I might more fairly say, that he was commanded to do so. Iwonder how he felt when Mrs. Greenow gave him his first five-poundnote, and told him that he must make it do for a fortnight?--whetherit was all joy, or whether there was about his heart any touch ofmanly regret?
"Captain Bellfield, of Vavasor Hall, Westmoreland. It don't soundbadly," he said to himself, as he travelled away on his first journeyto Penrith.