In the midst she heard that peculiar dash with which the Fordham carriage always announced itself. Little Esther might be ever so much a Viscountess, but could she ever cease to be shy? In spite of her increasing beauty and grace, she was not a success in society, for the ladies said she was slow; she had no conversation, and no dash or rattle to make up for it, and nothing would ever teach her to like strangers. They were only so many disturbances in the way of her enjoyment of her husband and her baby; and when she could not have the former to go out driving with her, she always came and besought for the company of Aunt Caroline and Babie; above all, when she had any shopping to do. She knew it was very foolish, but she could never be happy in encountering shop people, and she wanted strong support and protection to prevent herself from being made a lay figure by urgent dressmakers. Her home only gave her help and company on great occasions, for Eleanor persisted in objecting to fine people, was determined against attracting another guardsman, and privately desired her sister to abstain from inviting her. Essie was aware that this was all for the sake of a certain curate at St. Kenelm's, and left Ellie to carry out her plan of passive resistance, becoming thus the more dependent on her aunt's family.
In she came, too graceful and courteous for strangers to detect the shock their presence gave her, but much relieved to see them depart. Her husband was on guard, and she had a whole list of commissions for mamma, which would be much better executed without him. Moreover, baby must have a new pelisse and hat for the country, and might not she have little stockings and shoes, in case she should want to walk before the return to London?
As little Alice was but four months old, and her father's leave was only for three months, this did not seem a very probable contingency, but Mother Carey was always ready for shopping. She had never quite outgrown the delight of the change from being a penniless school girl, casting wistful fleeting glances at the windows where happier maidens might enter and purchase.
Then there was to be a great review in two days' time, Cecil would be with his regiment, and Esther wanted the whole family to go with her, lunch with the officers, and have a thorough holiday. Cecil had sent a message that Jock must come to have the cobwebs swept out of his brain, and see his old friends before he got into harness again. It was a well-earned holiday, as Mother Carey felt, accepting it with eager pleasure, for all who could come, though John's power of so doing must be doubtful, and there was little chance of a day being granted to Allen.
In going out with her niece, Caroline's eye had fallen on an envelope among the cards on the hall table, ambiguously addressed to "J. Brownlow, Esq., M.B.," and on her return home she was met at the door by Jock with a letter in his hand.
"So Dr. Ruthven has been here," he said, drawing her into the consulting-room.
"Yes. I like him rather. He seems to wish to make any amends in his power."
"Amends! you dear old ridiculous mother! Do you call this amends?" holding up the letter. "He says now this discovery is getting known and he has a name for the sort of case, his practice is outgrowing him, and he wants some one to work with him who may be up to this particular matter, and all he has heard of us convinces him that he cannot do better than propose it to whichever of us has no other designs."
"Very right and proper of him. It is the only thing he can do. I suppose it would be the making of one of you. Ah!" as she glanced over the letter. "He gives the preference to you."
"He was bound to do that, but I think he would prefer the Monk. I wonder whether you care very much about my accepting the offer."
"Would this house be too far off?"
"I don't know his plans enough to tell. That was not what I was thinking of, but of what it would save her. Essie said she was not looking well; and no doubt waiting is telling on her, just as her mother always feared it would."
"John has just not had the forbearance you have shown!"
"That is all circumstance. There was the saving her life, and afterwards the being on the spot when she was tormented about the other affair. He has no notion of having cut me out, and I trust he never will."
"No, I do him that justice."
"Then he has the advantage of me every way, out and out in looks and University training; and it was to him that Ruthven first took a fancy."
"You surpassed him in your essay, and in--.
"Oh, yes, yes," interrupted Jock hastily, "but you see work was my refuge. I had nothing to call me off. Besides, I have my share of your brains, instead of her Serenity's; but that's all the more reason, if you would listen to me. Depend upon it, Ruthven, if he knew all, would much prefer the connection John would have, and she would bring means to set up directly."
"I suppose you will have it so," replied she, looking up to him affectionately.
"I should like it," he said. "It is the one thing for them, and waiting might do her infinite harm; the dear old Monk deserves it every way. Remember how it all turned on his desperate race. If your comfort depended on my taking it, that would come first."
"Oh, no."
"But there is sure to turn up plenty of other work without leaving you," he continued. "I don't fancy getting involved in West-end practice among swells, and not being independent. I had rather see whether I can't work out this principle further, devoting myself to reading up for it, and getting more hospital experience to go upon."
"I dare say that is quite right. I know it is like your father, and indeed I shall be quite content however you decide. Only might it not be well to see how it strikes John, before you absolutely make it over to him?"
"You are trying to be prudent against the grain, Mother Carey."
"Trying to see it like your uncle. Yes, exactly as if I were trying to forestall his calling me his good little sister."
"I don't know what he would call me," said Jock, "for at the bottom is a feeling that, after reading my father's words, I had rather not, if I can help it, begin immediately to make all that material advantage out of 'Magnum Bonum' as you call it."
"Well, my dear, do as you think right; I trust it all to you. It is sure to turn out the right sort of 'Magnum Bonum' to you-"
The Monk's characteristic ring at the bell was heard, and the letter was, without loss of time, committed to him, while both mother and son watched him as he gathered up the sense.
"Well, this is jolly!" was his first observation. "Downright handsome of Ruthven!" and then as the colour rose a little in his face, "Just the thing for you, Jock, home work, which is exactly what you, want."
"I'm not sure about that," said Jock; "I don't want to get into that kind of practice just yet. It is fitter for a family man."
"And who is a family man if you are not?" said John. "Wasn't it the very cause of your taking this line?"
"There's a popular prejudice in favour of wives, rather than mothers," said Jock. "I should have said you were more likely to fulfil the conditions."
"Oh!" and there was a sound in that exclamation that belied the sequel, "that's just nonsense! The offer is to you primarily, and it is your duty to take it."
"I had much rather you did, and so had Dr. Ruthven. I want more time for study and experience, and have set my heart on some scientific appointment-"
"Come now, my good fellow-why, what are you laughing at?"
"Because you are such a good imitation of your father, my dear Johnny," said his aunt.
"It is just what my father would say," returned John, taking this as a high compliment; "it would be very foolish of Lucas to give up a certainty for this just because of his Skipjack element, which doesn't want to get into routine harness. Now, don't you think so, Mother Carey?"
"_If_ I thought it _was_ the Skipjack element," she said, smiling.
"If it is not," he said, the colour now spreading all over his face, "I am all the more bound not to let him give up all his prospects in life."
"_All_ my prospects! My dear Monk, do you think they don't go beyond a brougham, and unlimited staircases?"
"I only know," cried John, nettled into being a little off his guard, "that what you despise would be all the world to me!"
The admission was hailed triumphantly, but the Kencroft nature was too resolute, and the individual conscience too generous, to be brought round to accept the sacrifice, which John estimated at the value of the importance it was to himself, viewing what was real in Lucas's distaste, as mere erratic folly, which ought to be argued down. Finally, when the argument had gone round into at least its fiftieth circle, Mother Carey declared that she would have no more of it. Lucas should write a note to Dr. Ruthven, accepting his proposal for one or other of them, and promising that he should know which, in the course of a few days; so that John, if he chose, could write to his father or _anyone_ else. Meantime there was to be no allusion to "the raid of Ruthven" till the day of the review was over. It was to be put entirely off the tongue, if not out of the head!
And the two young doctors were weary enough of the subject to rejoice in obedience to her.
The day was perfect except that poor Allen was pinned fast by his tyrant, all the others gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the moment. They understood the sham fight, and recognised all the corps, with Jock as their cicerone, they had a good place at the marching past, and Esther had the crowning delight of an excellent view of Captain Viscount Fordham with his company, and at the luncheon. Jock received an absolutely affectionate welcome from his old friends, who made as much of his mother and sister for his sake, as they did of the lovely Lady Fordham for her husband's, finding them, moreover, much more easy to get on with.
CHAPTER XXXIX. THE TRUANT.
The bird was sitting in his cage And heard what he did say; He jumped upon the window sill, "'Tis time I was away." Ballad.
There is a young lady in the drawing-room, ma'am," said the maid, looking rather puzzled and uncertain, on the return of the party from the review.
"A stranger? How could you let her in?" said John.
At that moment a face appeared at the top of the stairs, a face set in the rich golden auburn that all knew so well, and half way up, Mrs. Brownlow was clasped by a pair of arms, and there was a cry, "Mother Carey, Mother Carey, I'm come home!"
"Elvira! my dear child! When-how did you come?"
"From the station, in a cab. I made her let me in, but I thought you were never coming back. Where's Allen?"
"Allen will come in by-and-by," said the astonished Mother Carey, who had been dragged into the drawing-room, where Elvira embraced Babie, and grasped the hands of the others.
"Oh, it is so nice," she cried, then nestling back to Mother Carey.
"But where did you come from? Are you alone?"
"Yes, quite alone, Janet would not come with me after all."
"Janet, my dear! Where is she?"
"Oh, not here-at Saratoga, or at New York. I thought she was coming with me, but when the steamer sailed she was not there, only there was a note pinned to my berth. I meant to have brought it, but it got lost somehow."
"Where did you see her?"
"At the photographer's at Saratoga. I should never have come if she had not helped me, but she said she knew you would take me home, and she wrote and took my passage and all. She said if I did not find you, Mr. Wakefield would know where you were, but I did so want to get home to you! Please, may I take off my things; I don't want to be such a fright when Allen comes in."
It was all very mysterious, but Elvira must be much altered indeed if her narrative did not come out in an utterly complicated and detached manner. She was altered certainly, for she clung most affectionately to Mother Carey and Barbara, when they took her upstairs. She had a little travelling-bag with her; the rest of her luggage would be sent from the station, she supposed, for she had taken no heed to it. She did so want to get home.
"I did feel so hungry for you, Mother Carey. Mother, Janet said you would forgive me, and I thought if you were ever so angry, it would be true, and that would be nicer than Lisette, and, indeed, it was not so much my doing as Lisette's."
Whatever "it" was, Mother Carey had no hesitation in replying that she had no doubt it was Lisette's fault.
"You see," continued Elvira, "I never meant anything but to plague Allen a little at first. You know he had always been so tiresome and jealous, and always teased me when I wanted any fun-at least I thought so, and I did want to have my swing before he called me engaged to him again. I told Jock so, but then Lisette and Lady Flora, and old Lady Clanmacnalty went on telling me that you knew the money was mine all the time, and that it was only an accident that it came out before I was married."
"Oh, Elvira, you could not have thought anything so wicked," cried Babie.
"They all went on so, and made so sure," said Elvira, hanging her head, "and I never did know the real way the will was found till Janet told me. Babie, if you had heard Lady Clanmacnalty clear her throat when people talked about the will being found, you would have believed she knew better than anyone."
So it was. The girl, weak in character, and far from sensible, full of self-importance, and puffed up with her inheritance, had been easily blinded and involved in the web that the artful Lisette had managed to draw round her. She had been totally alienated from her old friends, and by force of reiteration had been brought to think them guilty of defrauding her. In truth, she was kept in a whirl of gaiety and amusement, with little power of realizing her situation, till the breach had grown too wide for the feeble will of a helpless being like her to cross it. Though she had flirted extensively, she had never felt capable of accepting any one of her suitors, and in these refusals she had been assisted by Lisette, who wanted to secure her for her brother, but thanks to warnings from Mr. Wakefield, and her husband's sense of duty, durst not do so before she was of age.
Elvira's one wish had been to visit San Ildefonso again. She had a strong yearning towards the lovely island home which she gilded in recollection with all the trails of glory that shine round the objects of our childish affections. Lisette always promised to take her, but found excuses for delay in the refitting of the yacht, while she kept the party wandering over Europe in the resorts of second- rate English residents. No doubt she wished to make the most of the enjoyments she could obtain, as Elvira's chaperon and guardian, before resigning her even to her brother. At last the gambling habits into which her husband fell, for lack, poor man, of any other employment, had alarmed her, and she permitted her party to embark in the yacht where Gilbert Gould acted as captain.
They reached the island. It had become a coaling station. The bay where she remembered exquisite groves coming down to the white beach, was a wharf, ringing with the discordant shouts of negroes and cries of sailors. The old nurse was dead, and fictitious foster brothers and sisters were constantly turning up with extravagant claims.
"Oh, I longed never to have come," said Elvira; "and then I began to get homesick, but they would not let me come!"
No doubt Lisette had feared the revival of the Brownlow influence if her charge were once in England, for she had raised every obstacle to a return. Poor Gould and his niece had both looked forward to Elvira's coming of age as necessarily bringing them to England, but her uncle's health had suffered from the dissipation he had found his only resource. Liquor had become his consolation in the life to which he was condemned, and in the hotel life of America was only too easily attainable.
His death deprived Elvira of the last barrier to the attempts of an unscrupulous woman, who was determined not to let her escape. Elvira's longing to return home made her spread her toils closer. She kept her moving from one fashionable resort to another, still attended by Gilbert, who was beginning to grow impatient to secure his prize.
"How I hated it," said Elvira. "I knew she was false and cruel by that time, but it was just like being in a trap between them. I loathed them more and more, but I couldn't get away."
Nurtured as she had been, she was helpless and ignorant about the commonest affairs of life, and the sight of Ameri
can independence never inspired her with the idea of breaking the bondage in which she was spellbound. Still, she shrank back with instinctive horror from every advance of Gilbert's, and at last, to pique her, Lisette brought forward the intelligence that Allen Brownlow was married.
The effect must have surprised them, for Elvira turned on her aunt in one of those fits of passion which sometimes seized her, accused her vehemently of having poisoned the happiness of her life, and taken her from the only man she could ever love. She said and threatened all sorts of desperate things; and then the poor child, exhausted by her own violence, collapsed, and let herself be cowed and terrified in her turn by her aunt's vulgar sneers and cold determination.
Yet still she held out against the marriage. "I told them it would be wicked," she said. "And when I went to Church, all the Psalms and everything said it would be wicked. Then Lisette said it was wicked to love a married man, and I said I didn't know, I couldn't help it, but it would be more wicked to vow I would love a man whom I hated, and should hate more every day of my life. Then they said I might have a civil marriage, and not vow anything at all, and I told them that would seem to me no better than not being married at all. Oh! I was very very miserable!"
"Had you no one to consult or help you, my poor child ?"
"They watched me so, and whenever I was making friends with any nice American girl, they always rattled me off somewhere else. I never did understand before what people meant when they talked about God being their only Friend, but I knew it then, for I had none at all, none else. And I did not think He would help me, for now I knew I had been hard, and horrid and nasty, and cruel to you and Allen, the only people who ever cared for me for myself, and not for my horrid, horrid money, though I was the nastiest little wretch. Oh! Mother Carey, I did know it then, and I got quite sick with longing for one honest kiss-or even one honest scolding of yours. I used to cry all Church-time, and they used to try not to let me go-and I felt just like the children of Israel in Egypt, as if I had got into heavy bondage, and the land of captivity. O do speak, and let me hear your voice once more! Your arm is so comfortable."
Magnum Bonum Page 61
