Dynevor Terrace (Vol. II)

by Шарлотта Мэри Йондж

  The large hall was darkening with twilight, and the flowers and branches that decked it showed gracefully in the subdued light. Prayer and praise had lately echoed there, and Louis and Mary could feel that He was with them who blessed the pair at Cana, far distant as they were from their own church-their own home. Yes, the Church, their mother, their home, was with them in her sacred ritual and her choice blessings, and their consciences were free from self-will, or self-pleasing, such as would have put far from them the precious gifts promised in the name of their Lord.

  When it was over, and they first raised their eyes to one another's faces, each beheld in the other a look of entire thankful content, not the less perfect because it was grave and peaceful.

  'I think mamma would be quite happy,' said Mary.

  CHAPTER XXIII. THE MARVEL OF PERU.

  Turn, Angelina, ever dear, My charmer, turn to see Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, Restored to love and thee, GOLDSMITH.

  Lord Ormersfield sat alone in the library, where the fire burnt more for the sake of cheerfulness than of warmth. His eyes were weary with reading, and, taking off his spectacles, he turned his chair away from the table, and sat gazing into the fire, giving audience to dreamy thoughts.

  He missed the sunny face ever prompt to watch his moods, and find or make time for the cheerful word or desultory chat which often broke and refreshed drier occupation. He remembered when he had hardly tolerated the glass of flowers, the scraps of drawing, the unbusinesslike books at his son's end of the table, but the room looked dull without them now, and he was ready to own the value of the grace and finish of life, hindering the daily task from absorbing the whole man, as had been the case with himself in middle life.

  Somewhat of the calm of old age had begun to fall on the Earl, and he had latterly been wont to think more deeply. These trifles could not have spoken to his heart save for their connexion with his son, and even Louis's tastes would have worn out with habit, had it not been for the radiance permanent in his own mind, namely, the thankful, adoring love that finds the true brightness in "whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report." This spirit it was which had kept his heart fresh, his spirit youthful, and changed constitutional versatility into a power of hearty adaptation to the least congenial tastes.

  Gentleness, affection, humility, and refinement were in his nature. Mrs. Frost had trained these qualities into the beauty of Christian graces; and Mrs. Ponsonby and her daughter had taught him to bring his high principles to supply that which was wanting. Indolence of will, facility of disposition, unsteadiness of purpose, inconsiderate impulses without perseverance, had all betokened an inherent weakness, which the Earl's cure, ambition, had been powerless to remedy; but duty had been effectual in drawing strength out of what had been feeble by nature. It was religion that had made a man of Louis; and his father saw and owned it, no longer as merely the woman's guide in life and the man's resource chiefly in death, to be respected and moderately attended to, but never so as to interfere unreasonably with the world. No; he had learnt that it was the only sure and sound moving-spring: he knew it as his son's strengthening, brightening thread of life; and began to perceive that his own course might have been less gloomy and less harsh, devoid of such dark strands, had he held the right clue. The contrast brought back some lines which, without marking, he had heard Louis and his aunt reading together, and, albeit little wont to look into his son's books, he was so much haunted by the rhythm that he rose and searched them out-

  Yea, mark him well, ye cold and proud, Bewildered in a heartless crowd, Starting and turning pale At rumour's angry din: No storm can now assail The charm he bears within. Rejoicing still, and doing good, And with the thought of God imbued, No glare of high estate, No gloom of woe or want, The radiance may abate, Where Heaven delights to haunt.

  The description went to his heart, so well did it agree with Louis. Yet there was a sad feeling, for the South American mail had been some days due, and he had not heard of his son since he was about to land at Callao. Five months was a long absence; and as the chances of failure, disappointment, climate, disease, and shipwreck arose before him, he marvelled at himself for having consented to peril his sole treasure, and even fancied that a solitary, childless old age might be the penalty in store for having waited to be led heavenward by his son.

  It was seldom that the Earl gave way, and, reproaching himself for his weakness, he roused himself and rang the bell for better light. There was a movement in the house, and for some moments the bell was not answered; but presently the door was opened.

  'Bring the other lamp.'

  'Yes, my Lord.'

  The slow, soft voice did not belong to Frampton. He started up, and there stood Louis!

  'My dear father,' he said; and Lord Ormersfield sprang up, grasped his son's hand, and laid the other hand on his shoulder, but durst ask no questions, for the speedy return seemed to bespeak that he had failed. He looked in Louis's face, and saw it full of emotion, with dew on the eyelashes; but suddenly a sweet archness gleamed in the eyes, and he steadied his trembling lip to say with a smile,

  'Lady Fitzjocelyn!'

  And that very moment Mary was in Lord Ormersfield's arms.

  'My children! my dear children, happy at last! God bless you! This is all I ever wished!'

  He held a hand of each, and looked from one to the other till Mary turned away to hide her tears of joy; and Louis, with his eyes still moist, began talking, to give her time to recover.

  'You will forgive our not writing? We landed this morning, found the last mail was not come in, and could not help coming on. We knew you would be anxious, and thought you would not mind the suddenness.'

  'No, indeed,' said his father; 'if all surprises were like this one! But you are the loser, Mary. I am afraid this is not the reception for a bride!'

  'Mary has dispensed with much that belongs to a bride,' said Louis. 'See here!' and, seizing her hand, he began pulling off her glove, till she did it for him; 'did you ever see such a wedding-ring?-a great, solid thing of Peruvian gold, with a Spanish posy inside!'

  'I like it,' said Mary; 'it shows-'

  'What you are worth, eh, Mary? Well! here we are! It seems real at last! And you, father, have you been well?'

  'Yes, well indeed, now I have you both! But how came you so quickly? You never brought her across the Isthmus?'

  'Indeed I did. She would come. It was her first act of rebellion; for we were not going to let you meet the frosts alone-the October frosts, I mean; I hope the Dynevor Frosts are all right?'

  Frampton was here seen at the open door, doubtful whether to intrude; yet, impelled by necessity, as he caught Fitzjocelyn's eye, he, hesitating, said-

  'My Lord, the Spanish gentleman!'

  'The greatest triumph of my life!' cried Louis, actually clapping his hands together with ecstacy, to the butler s extreme astonishment.

  'Why, Frampton, don't you know him?'

  'My Lord!!!'

  'Let me introduce you, then, to-Mr. Thomas Madison!' and, as Frampton still stood perplexed, looking at the fine, foreign-looking man, who was keeping in the background, busied with the luggage, Louis continued, 'You cannot credit such a marvel of Peru!'

  'Young Madison, my Lord!' repeated Frampton, slowly coming to his senses.

  'No other. He has done Lady Fitzjocelyn and all of us infinite service,' continued Louis, quickly, to prevent Madison's reception from receiving a fall in proportion to the grandeur of the first impression. 'He is to stay here for a short time before going to his appointment at Bristol, in Mr. Ward's counting-house, with a salary of 180 pounds. I shall be much obliged if you will make him welcome.'

  And, returning in his glee to the library, Louis found Mary explaining how 'a gentleman at Lima,' who had long professed to covet so good a clerk as Madison, had, on the break-up of their firm, offered him a confidential post, for which he was well fitted by his knowledge of the Spanish language and the
South American trade, to receive the cargoes sent home. 'In truth,' said Louis, coming in, 'I had reason to be proud of my pupil. We could never have found our way through the accounts without him; and the old Cornish man, whom we sent for from the mines, gave testimony to him such as will do Mr. Holdsworth's heart good. But nothing is equal to Frampton's taking him for a Spanish Don!'

  'And poor Delaford's witness was quite as much to his credit,' said Mary.

  'Ay! if Delaford had not been equally willing to depose against him when he was the apparent Catiline!' said Louis. 'Poor Delaford! he was very useful to us, after all; and I should be glad to know he had a better fate than going off to the diggings with a year's salary in his pocket!'

  (Footnote. A recent writer relates that he found the near relation of a nobleman gaining a scanty livelihood as shoe-black at the diggings. Query. Might not this be Mr. Delaford?)

  'Then everything is settled?' asked his father.

  'Almost everything. The mines are off our hands, and the transfer will be completed as soon as Oliver has sent his signature; and there's quite enough saved to make them very comfortable. You have told me nothing of them yet?'

  'They are all very well. James has been coming here twice a-week since I have been at home, and has been very attentive and pleasant; but I have not been at the Terrace much. There never was such a houseful of children. Oliver's room is the only place where one is safe from falling over two or three. However, they seem to like it, and to think, the more the better. James came over here the morning after the boy was born, as much delighted as if he had had any prospects.'

  'A boy at last! Poor Mr. Dynevor! Does he take it as an insult to his misfortunes?'

  'He seems as well pleased as they; and, in fact, I hope the boy may not, after all, be unprovided for. Mr. Mansell wrote to offer to be godfather, and I thought I could not do otherwise than ask him to stay here. I am glad I did so, for he told me that now he has seen for himself the noble way they are going on in, he has made up his mind. He has no relation nearer than Isabel, and he means to make his will in favour of her son. He asked whether I would be a trustee, but I said I was growing old, and had little doubt you would be glad enough. You will have plenty of such work, Louis. It is very dangerous to be known as a good man-of-business, and good- natured.'

  'Pray, how does Jem bear it?'

  'With tolerable equanimity. It may be many years before the child is affected by it, if Mrs. Mansell has it for her life. Besides, James is a wiser man than he used to be.'

  'He has been somewhat like Robinson Crusoe's old goat,' said Louis. 'Poor Jem! the fall and the scanty fare tamed him. I liked him so well before, that I did not know how much better I was yet to like him. Mary, you must see his workhouse. Giving up his time to it as he does, he does infinite good there.'

  'Yes, Mr. Calcott says that he lives in fear of some one offering him a living,' said Lord Ormersfield.

  'And the dear old Giraffe?' said Louis.

  'Clara? She is looking almost handsome. I wish some good man would marry her. She would make an excellent wife.'

  'I am not ready to spare her yet,' said Mary; 'I must make acquaintance with her before any excellent man carries her off.'

  'But there is a marriage that will surprise you,' said the Earl; 'your eldest cousin, whose name I can never remember-'

  'Virginia,' cried Louis. 'Captain Lonsdale, I hope!'

  'What could have made you fix on him?'

  'Because the barricades could not have been in vain, and he was an excellent fellow, to whom I owe a great deal of gratitude. He kept my aunt's terrors in abeyance most gallantly; and little Virginia drank in his words, and built up a hero! But how was it?'

  'You remember that Lady Conway would not take our advice, and stay quietly at home. On the first steamer she fell in with this captain, and it seems that she was helpless enough, without her former butler, to be very grateful to him for managing her passports and conducting her through Germany. And the conclusion was, that she herself had encouraged him so far, that she really had not any justification in refusing when he proposed for the young lady, as he is fairly provided for.'

  'My poor aunt! No one ever pities her when she is 'hoist with her own petard!' I am glad poor Virginia is to be happy in her own way.'

  'I shall send my congratulations to-morrow,' said the Earl, smiling triumphantly, 'and a piece of intelligence of my own. At H. B. M. Consul's, Lima-what day was it, Louis?'

  Mary ran away to take off her bonnet, as much surprised by the Earl's mirth as if she had seen primroses in December. Yet such blossoms are sometimes tempted forth; and affection was breathing something like a second spring on the life so long unnaturally chilled and blighted. If his shoulders were bowed, his figure had lost much of its rigidity; and though his locks were thinned and whitened, and his countenance slightly aged, yet the softened look and the more frequent smile had smoothed away the sternness, and given gentleness to his dignity.

  No sooner was she out of the room than Lord Ormersfield asked, 'And what have you done with the Spanish woman?'

  The answer excited a peal of laughter, which made Louis stand aghast, both at such unprecedented merriment and at the cause; for hitherto he had so entirely felt with Mary, as never to have seen the ludicrous aspect of the elopement. Presently, however, he was amused by perceiving that his father not merely regarded it as a relief from an embarrassing charge, but as an entire acquittal for his own conscience for any slanders he had formerly believed of Dona Rosita.

  Louis briefly explained that, the poor lady being provided for by Robson's investments in America, he had thought it right that the Ponsonby share of the firm should bear the loss through these embezzlements; and he had found that her extravagance had made such inroads on the property, that while the Dynevor share (always the largest) resulted in a fair competence, Louis had saved nothing out of the wreck of the Ponsonby affairs but Mary herself. 'Can you excuse it, father?' he said, with all the old debonnaire manner.

  'You will never be a rich man, Louis. You and she will have some cares, but-' and his voice grew thick-'you are rich in what makes life happy. You have left me nothing more to ask or wish for!'

  'Except that I may be worthy of her, father. You first taught me how she ought to be loved. You have been very patient with me all this time. I feel as if I must thank you for her-' and then, changing his tone as she opened the door-'Look at her now she has her bonnet off-does not she look natural?'

  'I am sure I feel so,' said Mary. 'You know this always seemed more like home than anything else.'

  'Yes, and now I do feel sure that I have you at last, Mary. That Moorish castle of yours used to make me afraid of wakening: it was so much fitter for Isabel's fantastic Viscount. By-the-bye, has she brought that book out?'

  'Oh, yes, and James is nearly as proud of it as he is of his son. He actually wanted me to read it! He tells me it is selling very well, and I hope it may really bring them in something.'

  'Now, then-there's the tea. Sit down, Mary, and look exactly as you did the morning I came home and found you.'

  'I'm afraid I cannot,' said Mary, looking up in his face with an arch, deprecating expression.

  'Why not?'

  'Don't you know that I am so much happier?'

  Before breakfast next morning Fitzjocelyn must visit his farm, and Mary must come with him.

  How delicious was that English morning after their voyage; the slant rays of the sun silvering the turf, and casting rainbows across the gossamer threads from one brown bent to another; the harvest fields on the slopes dotted with rich sheaves of wheat; the coppices, in their summer glory, here and there touched with the gold of early autumn, and the slopes and meadows bright with lively green, a pleasant change for eyes fresh from the bare, rugged mountain-side and the rank unwholesome vegetation of Panama. Shaggy little Scottish oxen were feeding on the dewy grass, their black coats looking sleek in the sun beyond the long shadows of the thorns; but as Mary said, laughing, '
Only Farmer Fitjocelyn's cattle came here now,' and she stopped more than once to be introduced to some notable animal, or to hear the history of experiments in fatting beasts.

  'There! they have found you out! That's for you,' said Louis, as a merry peal of bells broke out from the church tower, and came joyously up through the tranquil air. 'Yes, Ormersfield, you are greeting a friend! You may be very glad, old place! I wish Mr. Holdsworth would come up to breakfast! Is it too wet for you this way, Mary?'

  This way was into Fernydell, and Mary answered, 'Oh, no-no; it is where I most wanted to go with you. We have never been there together since-'

  'No, you never would walk with me after I could go alone!' said Louis, with a playful tone of reproach, veiling deep feeling.

  In silence he handed her down the rocky steps, plunging deeper among the hazels and rowan-trees; then pausing, he turned aside the luxuriant leaves of a tuft of hartstongue, and showed her, cut on a stone, veiled both by the verdure and the form of the rock, the letters-

  Deo Gratias, L. F. 1847.

  'I like that!' was all that Mary's full heart allowed her to say.

  'Yes,' said Louis, 'I feel quite as thankful for the accident as for the preservation.'

  'And that dear mamma was with us,' added Mary. 'Between her and you, it was a blessing to us all. I see these letters are not new; you must have cut them out long ago.'

  'As soon as I could get here without help,' he answered. 'I thought I should be able to find the very spot where I lay, by remembering the cross which the bare mountain-ash boughs made against the sky; but by that time they were all leaf and flower; and now, do you see, there they are, with the fruit just formed and blushing.'

  'Like other things,' said Mary, reaching after the spray, 'once all blossom, now-'

  'Fruit very unripe,' as he said, between a smile and a sigh; 'but there is some encouragement in the world after all, and every project of mine has not turned out like my two specimens of copper ore. You remember them, Mary and our first encounter?'