“The affair proceeded no further, but it is very unpleasant, and has ended in Charles Kynaston’s positive dismissal by Lady Talmash.”
Mildred was very much surprised, and, indeed, pained by the contents of the letter, but when she showed it to her father he shook his head, and said, “An inveterate gambler will never be cured, and Charles Kynaston is an inveterate gambler.”
Next day brought more letters from Nice, and amongst them one from Lady Talmash herself, which Mildred immediately opened.
After expressing her great satisfaction that Mildred was under Dr. Percival’s care, her ladyship entered upon her own business. “I have no doubt Stanley has told you I have dismissed Charles Kynaston, and the reason why. I believe Charles meant to keep the disgraceful affair secret, for he said nothing to me of his visit to Monaco, nor should I have heard of it had I not received a letter giving me an account of the dishonourable proceeding. I call it dishonourable, because he had vowed never to play again. When he next presented himself to me, I received him very coldly, and charged him with what he had done. He could not deny it, but made several idle excuses. I told him his conduct was utterly unworthy a gentleman, that our engagement was entirely at an end, and that I never would receive him again. He expressed the utmost contrition for what he had done, but would not take a dismissal. However, I put an end to the interview.
“Then followed the quarrel with the Comte de Clairvaux, of which no doubt you have heard from Stanley. What expectations the delinquent may have formed I know not, but I do not mean to forgive him could have no reliance upon him in future. He answers completely to Mr. Warburton’s notion of a confirmed gambler. I can come to no decision respecting the Comte de Clairvaux. I am sure he likes me, and persuades himself that I would accept him. But I cannot make up my mind to do so. He has many recommendations. He belongs to an old, aristocratic family — with a title in it — has most polished manners, as you are aware, and could introduce Madame la Comtesse to the creme de la crime of Parisian society, but shall I venture to whisper it? — he is un peu trop vieux. No! Much as I like him, I don’t think I could marry him. This is the exact state of affairs at present. What will happen I cannot foretell.”
“But I can,” said Sister Aline, to whom the letter was read, and who knew the Comte intimately in former days. “She will marry him, and she will choose well, for he is as kind-hearted as he is agreeable.”
The next letter opened was from Rose, who said that “constant inquiries were made after the beautiful invalid, who was much missed by her numerous friends. Rose could not tell how long Lady Starkey meant to remain, but she had not yet fixed the date of their departure. Nice was a most charming place certainly, but she was getting rather tired of it, and should prefer being at Beaucliffe. Was Mildred aware that Marston Malpas had proposed to her? She fancied not. He was very amiable, and sufficiently rich — but she could not make up her mind to accept him.
“Now, dearest Mildred, I wish to ask you a question, and beg you to answer me sincerely, and rest assured I will act as you wish. Circumstances have thrown me and Stanley very much together of late. Do you disapprove of this? If you do, our intimacy shall cease. But Stanley declares you like me, and won’t object, and my aunt is of the same opinion. I am so glad your papa has called in that wonderful Doctor Percival. When I come back, I hope to find he has quite cured you. Lady Talmash, who has the greatest faith in the doctor, confidently predicts that such will be the case.”
Mildred smiled as she laid down the letter, and said to Sister Aline, “I think they have formed a correct opinion of Doctor Percival, undoubtedly he is a very clever man.”
There was one letter left. It was for the Squire, and was evidently from his wife. On his return from a walk he opened it.
“Since I last wrote to you,” said her ladyship, “I have had a long talk with Lady Talmash about Doctor Percival, and she has convinced me that he is a man of remarkable ability, and I am not now without hopes of a complete cure in Mildred’s case. It will certainly be a most astonishing thing if it occurs, for all here have been in despair. The match between Lady Talmash and Charles Kynaston is broken off, and I am not sorry for it, for he was not at all worthy of her in my opinion; and I think he will be succeeded by the Comte de Clairvaux, to whom I should be glad to see her united, and so, I think, would you. Sir Randal de Blundeville is still here, and the more I see of him the better I like him. He is the model of a gentleman of the old school. If you approve, I will ask him to spend a week with us at Beaucliffe on his return. Rose has decidedly refused Marston Malpas, and I am not sorry for it, as I think him a very stupid fellow.
“And now you will naturally ask how long we mean to stay here? A fortnight, I should say, but this will entirely depend on your own movements. Again I recommend you to take possession of the house in Berkeley Square. Mildred and her friend, Sister Aline, would be exceedingly comfortable there. Unless you are going at once to Beaucliffe, this will be much your best plan.”
“What’s your opinion?” said the Squire to Mildred, after reading this portion of Lady Starkey’s missive to her.
“I think we may as well remain here,” she replied.
“So do I,” he said.
Two days afterwards the Squire received another letter from Stanley, which was luckily delivered to him in his own room.
“I have a distressing story to relate to you,” said Stanley. “Mention it cautiously to Mildred, as it might produce a painful effect upon her. You know Charles Kynaston was dismissed by Lady Talmash in consequence of having broken his word in regard to play. He took the matter greatly to heart, and became very low spirited. I called upon him, and found him very much altered. I tried to cheer him, but when he asked whether the quarrel could be arranged, I told him frankly, I thought not. I was very sorry afterwards for what I said, since it seems to have decided him in his fatal purpose. That night the poor fellow blew out his brains. I deeply regret his fate, for though an incurable gambler, he was kind and generous, and had many good qualities.”
“Poor fellow! I am very sorry for him!” exclaimed the Squire, as he finished the letter, But though Stanley wished to keep this distressing circumstance from Mildred, Lady Talmash was not so considerate. Next day brought a letter from her in which the catastrophe and its causes were fully detailed.
“I have been dreadfully shocked by a terrible event that has just occurred,” said her ladyship. “Yesterday I tried to write to you — but could not — and to-day I am not much better. Poor Charles Kynaston has put a pistol to his head, and destroyed himself. Is it not dreadful? I shall ever reproach myself with being the cause of his death — though it was the furthest thing from my thoughts to drive him to despair — nor did I think he would commit such a rash act. Alas! alas! I shall ever grieve for him. There is the last letter he wrote me. Keep it, or destroy it. I shall never read it — never look at it again.”
Greatly touched by what she had read, Mildred took up poor Charles Kynaston’s letter which had been enclosed in the other, and read as follows, with tearful eyes.
“Since I have lost your love, and forfeited your respect, life has become a burden to me, and the sooner I am rid of it the better. I loved you deeply, and notwithstanding my grave faults, I believe we might have been happy together. At all events, I should have been a most devoted husband. For some time I indulged the hope that you would forgive me, and take me again into favour; but when I found you inexorable, and your love for me quite gone, life became a blank. I had nothing but despair at my heart, and my anguish was absolutely intolerable. Per haps, when I am gone — as I soon shall be — you will bestow a kindly thought upon my memory.”
Not without deep emotion did Mildred read this letter, and her father had to brush his tears from his eyes more than once before he got through it “Poor Charles Kynaston!” he exclaimed. “I thought his would be a happier fate.”
“I am very sorry for Lady Talmash,” said Mildred. “I am afraid she will suffer severely f
rom the shock.” Some days after this date, the Squire was able to despatch a very satisfactory letter to his wife, the contents of which surprised as much as they pleased her.
“I have not written to you for the last week, because I wished to feel quite sure, before reporting it, that the wonderful cure effected by Dr. Percival would prove lasting.
“A few days since, a change for the better became apparent in Mildred, and ever since then, there has been a continuous improvement. The poor invalid, who seems to have been snatched from the very jaws of death, is now getting better and stronger. Dr. Percival is quite proud of the cure he has effected, and well he may be, for it seems almost miraculous. How much I owe him! and what a lucky chance led me to him! Even when I first consulted him, I was slow to recognise his extraordinary skill. But now there are no bounds to my admiration and gratitude. The poor invalid of a week ago, who could scarcely stir out of the house, is now able to drive in the Park, and even walk in Kensington Gardens. I am almost beside myself with wonder and delight. Though Doctor Percival says he considers Mildred perfectly cured, at my earnest request, he still visits her daily, and his manner is so cheerful and kindly that he does us all good.
“Ere long, I believe, Mildred will have regained all her former beauty. Dr. Percival thinks she will be handsomer than ever.
“Some people at Nice admired her late delicate appearance and spiritual expression. I very much prefer her present healthy looks.
“Pray give these cheering tidings to all our friends, by whom I am sure they will be received with the greatest satisfaction. Mildred, herself, will write to Stanley.
“As you will see from the address of this letter, we have followed your advice, and taken possession of the house in Berkeley Square, and are enchanted with it. Adieu!”
- So astonished was Lady Starkey by this unlooked-for intelligence that she could scarcely believe what she read, but she knew the Squire too well to suppose for a moment that he would exaggerate.
Stanley and Rose, together with Lady Talmash, who had not yet recovered from the dreadful shock occasioned by Charles Kynaston’s death, were on the Promenade at the time, but on their return she sent for them.
“I have wonderful news for you,” she said; “news that will surprise and delight you.”
She then read them Mr. Warburton’s letter, and when she finished, exclamations of astonishment were uttered by all.
“I never heard of such a remarkable case,” cried Stanley.
“Marvellous!” exclaimed Rose. “Why, she was quite given up.”
“Not by me,” said Lady Talmash. “I felt confident Doctor Percival would cure her.”
A good deal more was said, and nothing but expressions of the greatest satisfaction were heard, but some looks were exchanged between Stanley and Rose, which did not seem to indicate that they were as highly delighted as they professed.
But there could be no question as to the sincere pleasure with which the intelligence was received by Sir Randulph, the Comte de Clairvaux, and many other friends.
The question of the immediate return of the entire party was likewise raised, but nothing was decided on.
Next day, the good news was confirmed by Mildred herself, from whom Stanley received a very satisfactory letter, acquainting him with her perfect recovery.
“When I last wrote to you, dearest Stanley,” she said, “hope was well-nigh extinguished in my breast, and I believed myself doomed. Since then, I have almost miraculously recovered. The poison, lurking in my veins, that was slowly destroying me, has been expelled, and I have now quite regained my health. I did not dare write this to you before, fearing I might be too sanguine. But my recovery is real and assured, and I may congratulate myself — as I do most sincerely — on having had such a skilful physician. When you see me again, you will think I must have swallowed an Elixir, so wonderfully am I improved.
“No one could be more fortunate. Had I remained at Nice for another month, I should infallibly have sunk. Had I proceeded direct to Beaucliffe, as f originally intended, without stopping in London, the like fate must have befallen me. But I was saved by the care of the best and most thoughtful of fathers. Having the greatest faith in Doctor Percival, he sought him out immediately on his arrival in town. The doctor came — saw me, and cured me.
“Now have I not reason to be grateful for my wonderful preservation? But, besides gratitude to my dear father and the skilful physician, I owe much to one who has watched by me, and sustained me by her prayers, and now rejoices at my recovery.”
Stanley had just read this letter a second time, when Rose cafrie into the room, and he gave it to her, watching her anxiously as her eye ran over its contents.
“What think you of that?” he asked.
“I think it most extraordinary,” she replied, with an expression of countenance difficult to define. “I am very glad to receive such good news, but it entirely puts an end to the hopes I had recently ventured to indulge.” —
Stanley made no reply, but was evidently of the same opinion.
“All is now at an end between us,” she continued, sadly.
“For the present, it seems — but not, I trust, for ever,” he rejoined.
“Yes, for ever,” she returned. “I am afraid we must not meet again.”
“Surely, we may meet as friends?”
“No, we cannot be too careful,” said Rose. “I must not expose myself to censorious observation.
The tidings of Mildred’s wonderful recovery will soon be generally known in Nice, and will create a great sensation amongst the visitors. Thenceforward every eye will be upon us, and all sorts of conjectures will be made.”
“I know it,” cried Stanley. “I know how fond of scandal people here are. But I cannot give up your society.”
“You must We cannot be constantly together as we have been of late without exposing ourselves — as I have just said — to unpleasant remarks. I must consult my aunt and Lady Talmash. But I know beforehand what both will advise under these altered circumstances. They will tell me we have no alternative but to part for ever.”
“That would be hard indeed,” cried Stanley. “You will drive me to despair.”
“It is very painful to me, even to make the suggestion,” she said, “but I cannot act otherwise, and on calm reflection you will feel I am right.”
“But this must not be our last interview,” he cried.
“I intended it should be. But if my aunt deems it proper I will meet you once more.”
And she quitted the room, leaving him well-nigh heart-broken.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
STANLEY RETURNS FROM NICE.
IN the boudoir at Lady Starkey’s charming house in Berkeley Square, and seated on a fauteuil, we shall find Mildred, looking very different from that young lady when prostrated by illness.
With renovated health all her beauty has returned, and though the bloom on her fair cheek may be somewhat more delicate than formerly, it could scarcely be improved. Indeed, it may be doubted whether she ever looked lovelier than now. Her worthy father thought not.
A gentle expression, not entirely free from sadness, pervaded her countenance, and imparted a singular sweetness to her smile.
The coquetry that at one time characterised her, and seemed part of herself, had entirely vanished, and was succeeded by a very quiet, pleasing manner.
On the present occasion, her charms were enhanced, if possible, by a very becoming, though simple morning toilette, arranged by Georgette, who was still in the room, gazing with admiration at her lovely mistress.
On the opposite side of a little table, placed between them, sat Sister Aline.
‘ For some minutes the latter had been contemplating her friend with mute satisfaction, and now said, “I am sure you are quite well enough to do without me, and I can therefore return to the Retreat.”
“Oh! no, no. I cannot part with you yet,” replied Mildred. “You must stay with me a little longer — you must accompany me
to Beaucliffe.”
“Oh! pray don’t leave us!” implored Georgette.
“I dare not give a positive promise to stay,” said Sister Aline, touched by their entreaties. “I may be recalled, and in that case, I must obey the mandate of the Lady Superior.”
“I would not have you disobey it, dearest Sister,” rejoined Mildred. “But I have a special reason for begging you to accompany me to Beaucliffe. When the party return from Nice, as they will very shortly, we shall all meet there, and I shall want your counsel. Till lately, I thought my life was ended, and spoke and acted — so far as. I acted at all, — under that impression. Having recovered, I take a somewhat different view of things. Under these circumstances, no one, except my dear and excellent father, can give me such good advice as you.”
“I will give you the best advice I can, depend upon it,” replied Sister Aline. “I quite understand your position, and can judge what ought to be done. Unlooked-for difficulties may possibly arise, which I may help you to overcome. I will, therefore, accompany you to Beaucliffe — unless prevented.”
At this juncture, Georgette, hearing well-known voices, flew to the door and opened it, admitting Mr. Warburton and Doctor Percival, the latter of whom immediately stepped forward, and shook hands with his patient, while the Squire addressed himself to Sister Aline.
“Still, the same good signs!” cried the doctor, holding Mildred’s hand in his own, and triumphantly regarding her. “You are now on firm ground, and can stand alone.”
“I believe so, Doctor,” she replied. “But you must’nt desert me.”
“I don’t mean to desert you,” he replied. “But I must surrender you to your husband, who, I suppose, will soon come from Nice to claim you. Well, I shall have the proud satisfaction of delivering you to him perfectly cured.” —
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 822
