CHAPTER XIII.
THE SOLICITOR-GENERAL IN LOVE.
Caroline Waddington was at Hadley when she received and accepted theproposal made to her by Sir Henry Harcourt. It may be conceived thatthe affair was arranged without any very great amount of romance. SirHenry indeed was willing, in a hurried manner, to throw himself atthe lady's feet, to swear by her fair hand that he loved her as mannever yet had loved, and to go to work in the fashion usually mostapproved by young ladies. In a hurried manner, I say; for just atthis moment he was being made solicitor-general, and had almosttoo many irons in the fire to permit of a prolonged dallying. ButCaroline would have none of it, either hurried or not hurried.Whatever might be the case with Sir Henry, she had gone through thatphase of life, and now declared to herself that she did not want anymore of it.
Sir Henry did not find the task of gaining his bride very difficult.He had succeeded in establishing a sort of intimacy with old Mr.Bertram, and it appeared that permission to run down to Hadley andrun back again had already been accorded to him before Miss Baker andCaroline arrived there. He never slept, though he sometimes dined inthe house; but he had always something to talk about when an excusefor going to Hadley was required. Mr. Bertram had asked him somethingabout some investment, and he had found out this something; orhe wanted to ask Mr. Bertram's advice on some question as to hispolitical career. At this period he was, or professed to be, verymuch guided in his public life by Mr. Bertram's opinion.
And thus he fell in with Caroline. On the first occasion of his doingso, he contrived to whisper to her his deep sympathy with her sorrow;on his second visit, he spoke more of himself and less of Bertram;on his third, he alluded only to her own virtues; on his fourth, heasked her to be Lady Harcourt. She told him that she would be LadyHarcourt; and, as far as she was concerned, there was an end of itfor the present.
Then Sir Henry proposed that the day should be named. On this subjectalso he found her ready to accommodate him. She had no coy scruplesas to the time. He suggested that it should be before Christmas.Very well; let it be before Christmas. Christmas is a cold time formarrying; but this was to be a cold marriage. Christmas, however,for the fortunate is made warm with pudding, ale, and spiced beef.They intended to be among the fortunate, the fortunate in place, andmoney, and rank; and they would, as best they might, make themselveswarm with the best pudding, ale, and spiced beef which the worldcould afford them.
Sir Henry was alive to the delight of being the possessor of so manycharms, and was somewhat chagrined that for the present he was socruelly debarred from any part of his legitimate enjoyment. Thoughhe was a solicitor-general, he could have been content to sit forten minutes with his arm round Caroline's waist; and--in spite ofthe energy with which he was preparing a bill for the regulation ofCounty Courts, as to which he knew that he should have that terribledemi-god, Lord Boanerges, down upon his shoulders--still he wouldfain have stolen a kiss or two. But Caroline's waist and Caroline'skisses were to be his only after Christmas; and to be his only aspayment accorded for her new rank, and for her fine new house inEaton Square.
How is it that girls are so potent to refuse such favours at onetime, and so impotent in preventing their exaction at another? SirHenry, we may say, had every right to demand some trifling payment inadvance; but he could not get a doit. Should we be violating secrecytoo much if we suggested that George Bertram had had some slightpartial success even when he had no such positive claim--some successwhich had of course been in direct opposition to the lady's will?
Miss Baker had now gone back to Littlebath, either to receive AdelaGauntlet, or because she knew that she should be more comfortable inher own rooms than in her uncle's dismal house--or perhaps becauseSir Lionel was there. She had, however, gone back, and Carolineremained mistress for the time of her grandfather's household.
The old man now seemed to have dropped all mystery in the matter. Hegenerally, indeed, spoke of Caroline as Miss Waddington; but he heardher talked of as his granddaughter without expressing anger, andwith Sir Henry he himself so spoke of her. He appeared to be quitereconciled to the marriage. In spite of all his entreaties to George,all his attempted bribery, his broken-hearted sorrow when he failed,he seemed to be now content. Indeed, he had made no opposition to thematch. When Caroline had freely spoken to him about it, he made somelittle snappish remark as to the fickleness of women; but he at thesame time signified that he would not object.
Why should he? Sir Henry Harcourt was in every respect a good matchfor his granddaughter. He had often been angry with George Bertrambecause George had not prospered in the world. Sir Henry hadprospered signally--would probably prosper much more signally. Mightit not be safely predicated of a man who was solicitor-generalbefore he was thirty, that he would be lord-chancellor or lordchief-justice, or at any rate some very bigwig indeed before he wasfifty? So of course Mr. Bertram did not object.
But he had not signified his acquiescence in any very cordial way.Rich old men, when they wish to be cordial on such occasions, havebut one way of evincing cordiality. It is not by a pressure of thehand, by a kind word, by an approving glance. Their embrace conveysno satisfaction; their warmest words, if unsupported, are very cold.An old man, if he intends to be cordial on such an occasion, mustspeak of _thousands of pounds_. "My dear young fellow, I approvealtogether. She shall have _twenty thousand pounds_ the day shebecomes yours." Then is the hand shaken with true fervour; then isreal cordiality expressed and felt. "What a dear old man grandpapais! Is there any one like him? Dear old duck! He is going to be sogenerous to Harry."
But Mr. Bertram said nothing about twenty thousand pounds, nothingabout ten, nothing about money at all till he was spoken to on thesubject. It was Sir Henry's special object not to be pressing onthis point, to show that he was marrying Caroline without any sordidviews, and that his admiration for Mr. Bertram had no bearing at allon that gentleman's cash-box. He did certainly make little feintsat Mr. Pritchett; but Mr. Pritchett merely wheezed and said nothing.Mr. Pritchett was not fond of the Harcourt interest; and seemed tocare but little for Miss Caroline, now that she had transferred heraffections.
But it was essentially necessary that Sir Henry Harcourt should knowwhat was to be done. If he were to have nothing, it was necessarythat he should know that. He had certainly counted on havingsomething, and on having something immediately. He was a thoroughlyhard-working man of business, but yet he was not an economical man. Aman who lives before the world in London, and lives chiefly among menof fortune, can hardly be economical. He had not therefore any largesum of money in hand. He was certainly in receipt of a large income,but then his expenses were large. He had taken and now had to furnishan expensive house in Eaton Square, and a few thousand pounds inready money were almost indispensable to him.
One Friday--this was after his return to town from the ten days'grouse-shooting, and occurred at the time when he was most busy withthe County Courts--he wrote to Caroline to say that he would go downto Hadley on Saturday afternoon, stay there over the Sunday, andreturn to town on the Monday morning; that is to say, he would do soif perfectly agreeable to Mr. Bertram.
He went down, and found everything prepared for him that was suitablefor a solicitor-general. They did not put before him merely roastmutton or boiled beef. He was not put to sleep in the back bedroomwithout a carpet. Such treatment had been good enough for GeorgeBertram; but for the solicitor-general all the glories of Hadley wereput forth. He slept in the best bedroom, which was damp enough nodoubt, seeing that it was not used above twice in the year; and wentthrough at dinner a whole course of _entrees_, such as _entrees_usually are in the suburban districts. This was naturally gratifyingto him as a solicitor-general, and fortified him for the struggle hewas to make.
He had some hope that he should have a _tete-a-tete_ with Carolineon the Saturday evening. But neither fate nor love would favour him.He came down just before dinner, and there was clearly no time then:infirm as the old man was, he sat at the dinner-table; and thoug
hSir Henry was solicitor-general, there was no second room, nowithdrawing-room prepared for his reception.
"Grandpapa does not like moving," said Caroline, as she got up toleave the room after dinner; "so perhaps, Sir Henry, you will allowme to come down to tea here? We always sit here of an evening."
"I never could bear to live in two rooms," said the old man. "Whenone is just warm and comfortable, one has to go out into all thedraughts of the house. That's the fashion, I know. But I hope you'llexcuse me, Sir Henry, for not liking it."
Sir Henry of course did excuse him. There was nothing he himselfliked so much as sitting cosy over a dining-room fire.
In about an hour Caroline did come down again; and in another hour,before the old man went, she again vanished for the night. Sir Henryhad made up his mind not to speak to Mr. Bertram about money thatevening; so he also soon followed Caroline, and sat down to work uponthe County Courts in his own bedroom.
On the next morning Sir Henry and Caroline went to church. All theHadleyians of course knew of the engagement, and were delightedto have an opportunity of staring at the two turtle-doves. Asolicitor-general in love is a sight to behold; and the clergymanhad certainly no right to be angry if the attention paid to hissermon was something less fixed than usual. Before dinner, therewas luncheon; and then Sir Henry asked his betrothed if she wouldtake a walk with him. "Oh, certainly, she would be delighted." Herchurch-going bonnet was still on, and she was quite ready. Sir Henryalso was ready; but as he left the room he stooped over Mr. Bertram'schair and whispered to him, "Could I speak to you a few words beforedinner, sir; on business? I know I ought to apologize, this beingSunday."
"Oh, I don't care about Sunday," said the stubborn-minded old man. "Ishall be here till I go to bed, I suppose, if you want me."
And then they started on their walk. Oh, those lovers' rambles! A manas he grows old can perhaps teach himself to regret but few of thesweets which he is compelled to leave behind him. He can learn todisregard most of his youth's pleasures, and to live contented thoughhe has outlived them. The polka and the waltz were once joyous; buthe sees now that the work was warm, and that one was often compelledto perform it in company for which one did not care. Those picnicstoo were nice; but it may be a question whether a good dinner at hisown dinner-table is not nicer. Though fat and over forty he may stillride to hounds, and as for boating and cricketing, after all theywere but boy's play. For those things one's soul does not sigh. But,ah! those lovers' walks, those loving lovers' rambles. Tom Moore isusually somewhat sugary and mawkish; but in so much he was right. Ifthere be an Elysium on earth, it is this. They are done and over forus, oh, my compatriots! Never again, unless we are destined to rejoinour houris in heaven, and to saunter over fields of asphodel inanother and a greener youth--never again shall those joys be ours!And what can ever equal them? 'Twas then, between sweet hedgerows,under green oaks, with our feet rustling on the crisp leaves, thatthe world's cold reserve was first thrown off, and we found thatthose we loved were not goddesses made of buckram and brocade, buthuman beings like ourselves, with blood in their veins, and hearts intheir bosoms--veritable children of Adam like ourselves.
"Gin a body meet a body comin' through the rye." Ah, how deliciouswere those meetings! How convinced we were that there was nonecessity for loud alarm! How fervently we agreed with the poet! Myfriends, born together with me in the consulship of Lord Liverpool,all that is done and over for us. We shall never gang that gait'again.
There is a melancholy in this that will tinge our thoughts, let usdraw ever so strongly on our philosophy. We can still walk with ourwives;--and that is pleasant too, very--of course. But there wasmore animation in it when we walked with the same ladies under othernames. Nay, sweet spouse, mother of dear bairns, who hast so welldone thy duty; but this was so, let thy brows be knit never soangrily. That lord of thine has been indifferently good to thee, andthou to him has been more than good. Up-hill together have ye walkedpeaceably labouring; and now arm-in-arm ye shall go down the gradualslope which ends below there in the green churchyard. 'Tis good andsalutary to walk thus. But for the full cup of joy, for the brimmingspring-tide of human bliss, oh, give me back, give me back-- -- --!Well, well, well; it is nonsense; I know it; but may not a man dreamnow and again in his evening nap and yet do no harm?
_Vici puellis nuper idoneus, et militavi._ How well Horace knew allabout it! But that hanging up of the gittern--. One would fain haveput it off, had falling hairs, and marriage-vows, and obesity havepermitted it. Nay, is it not so, old friend of the grizzled beard?Dost thou not envy that smirk young knave with his five lustrums,though it goes hard with him to purchase his kid-gloves? He dines forone-and-twopence at an eating-house; but what cares Maria where hedines? He rambles through the rye with his empty pockets, and at theturn of the field-path Maria will be there to meet him. Envy him not;thou hast had thy walk; but lend him rather that thirty shillingsthat he asks of thee. So shall Maria's heart be glad as she acceptshis golden brooch.
But for our friend Sir Henry every joy was present. Youth andwealth and love were all his, and his all together. He was buteight-and-twenty, was a member of Parliament, solicitor-general,owner of a house in Eaton Square, and possessor of as muchwell-trained beauty as was to be found at that time within the magiccircle of any circumambient crinoline within the bills of mortality.Was it not sweet for him to wander through the rye? Had he notfallen upon an Elysium, a very paradise of earthly joys? Was not hisspring-tide at the full flood?
And so they started on their walk. It was the first that they hadever taken together. What Sir Henry may have done before in thatline this history says not. A man who is solicitor-general ateight-and-twenty can hardly have had time for much. But the practicewhich he perhaps wanted, Caroline had had. There had been walksas well as rides at Littlebath; and walks also, though perhaps ofdoubtful joy, amidst those graves below the walls of Jerusalem.
And so they started. There is--or perhaps we should say was; fortime and railways, and straggling new suburban villas, may now havedestroyed it all; but there is, or was, a pretty woodland lane,running from the back of Hadley church, through the last remnants ofwhat once was Enfield Chase. How many lovers' feet have crushed theleaves that used to lie in autumn along that pretty lane! Well, well;there shall not be another word in that strain. I speak solely nowof the time here present to Sir Henry; all former days and formerroamings there shall be clean forgotten. The solicitor-general nowthither wends his way, and love and beauty attend upon his feet. Seehow he opens the gate that stands by the churchyard paling? Does itstand there yet, I wonder? Well, well; we will say it does.
"It is a beautiful day for a walk," said Sir Henry.
"Yes, very beautiful," said Caroline.
"There is nothing I am so fond of as a long walk," said thegentleman.
"It is very nice," said the lady. "But I do not know that I care forgoing very far to-day. I am not quite strong at present."
"Not strong?" And the solicitor-general put on a look of deep alarm.
"Oh, there is nothing the matter with me; but I am not quite strongfor walking. I am out of practice; and my boots are not quite of theright sort."
"They don't hurt you, I hope."
"Oh, no; they don't actually hurt me. They'll do very well forto-day." And then there was a short pause, and they got on the greengrass which runs away into the chase in front of the parsonagewindows. I wonder whether wickets are ever standing there now on thesummer afternoons!
They were soon as much alone--or nearly so--as lovers might wishto be; quite enough so for Caroline. Some curious eyes were stillpeeping, no doubt, to see how the great lawyer looked when he waswalking with the girl of his heart; to see how the rich miser'sgranddaughter looked when she was walking with the man of herheart. And perhaps some voices were whispering that she had changedher lover; for in these rural seclusions everything is known byeverybody. But neither the peepers nor the whisperers interfered withthe contentment of the fortunate pair.
/> "I hope you are happy, Caroline?" said Sir Henry, as he gentlysqueezed the hand that was so gently laid upon his arm.
"Happy! oh yes--I am happy. I don't believe you know in a great dealof very ecstatic happiness. I never did."
"But I hope you are rationally happy--not discontented--at any rate,not regretful? I hope you believe that I shall do my best, my verybest, to make you happy?"
"Oh, yes; I quite believe that. We must each think of the other'scomfort. After all, that I take it is the great thing in marriedlife."
"I don't expect you to be passionately in love with me--not as yet,Caroline."
"No. Let neither of us expect that, Sir Henry. Passionate love, Itake it, rarely lasts long, and is very troublesome while it doeslast. Mutual esteem is very much more valuable."
"But, Caroline, I would have you believe in my love."
"Oh, yes; I do believe in it. Why else should you wish to marry me?I think too well of myself to feel it strange that you should loveme. But love with you, and with me also for the future, will besubordinate to other passions."
Sir Henry did not altogether like that reference to the past whichwas conveyed in the word future; but, however, he bore it withoutwincing.
"You know so thoroughly the history of the last three years," shecontinued, "that it would be impossible for me to deceive you if Icould. But, if I know myself, under no circumstances would I havedone so. I have loved once, and no good has come of it. It wascontrary to my nature to do so--to love in that mad passionateself-sacrificing manner. But yet I did. I think I may say withcertainty that I never shall be so foolish again."
"You have suffered lately, Caroline; and as the sore still smarts,you hardly yet know what happiness may be in store for you."
"Yes; I have suffered," and he felt from the touch on his arm thather whole body shuddered.
He walked on in silence for awhile considering within himself. Whyshould he marry this girl, rejected of her former lover, who now hungupon his arm? He was now at the very fullest tide of his prosperity;he had everything to offer which mothers wish for their daughters,and which daughters wish for themselves. He had income, rank, name,youth, and talent. Why should he fling his rich treasures at the feetof a proud minx who in taking them swore that she could not love him?Would it not be better for him to recede? A word he well knew woulddo it; for her pride was true pride. He felt in his heart that it wasnot assumed. He had only to say that he was not contented with thiscold lack of love, and she would simply desire him to lead her backto her home and leave her there. It would be easy enough for him toget his head from out the noose.
But it was this very easiness, perhaps, which made him hesitate. Sheknew her own price, and was not at all anxious to dispose of herselfa cheap bargain. If you, sir, have a horse to sell, never appearanxious for the sale. That rule is well understood among those whodeal in horses. If you, madam, have a daughter to sell, it will bewell for you also to remember this. Or, my young friend, if you haveyourself to sell, the same rule holds good. But it is hard to put anold head on young shoulders. Hard as the task is, however, it wouldseem to have been effected as regards Caroline Waddington.
And then Sir Henry looked at her. Not exactly with his presenteyesight as then at that moment existing; for seeing that she waswalking by his side, he could not take the comprehensive view whichhis taste and mind required. But he looked at her searchingly withthe eyesight of his memory, and found that she exactly tallied withwhat his judgment demanded. That she was very beautiful, no man hadever doubted. That she was now in the full pride of her beauty wasto him certain. And then her beauty was of that goddess class whichseems for so long a period to set years at defiance. It was producedby no girlish softness, by no perishable mixture of white and red;it was not born of a sparkling eye, and a ripe lip, and a cherrycheek. To her face belonged lines of contour, severe, lovely, and ofineradicable grace. It was not when she smiled and laughed that shemost pleased. She did not charm only when she spoke; though, indeed,the expression of her speaking face was perfect. But she had thebeauty of a marble bust. It would not be easy even for Sir HenryHarcourt, even for a young solicitor-general, to find a face morebeautiful with which to adorn his drawing-room.
And then she had that air of fashion, that look of being able to lookdown the unfashionable, which was so much in the eyes of Sir Henry;though in those of George Bertram it had been almost a demerit. WithCaroline, as with many women, this was an appearance rather than areality. She had not moved much among high people; she had not taughtherself to despise those of her own class, the women of Littlebath,the Todds and the Adela Gauntlets; but she looked as though she wouldbe able to do so. And it was fitting she should have such a look ifever she were to be the wife of a solicitor-general.
And then Sir Henry thought of Mr. Bertram's coffers. Ah! if he couldonly be let into that secret, it might be easy to come to a decision.That the old man had quarrelled with his nephew, he was well aware.That George, in his pig-headed folly, would make no overtures towardsa reconciliation; of that also he was sure. Was it not probable thatat any rate a great portion of that almost fabulous wealth would goto the man's granddaughter? There was doubtless risk; but then onemust run some risk in everything, It might be, if he could play hiscards wisely, that he would get it all--that he would be placed in aposition to make even the solicitor-generalship beneath his notice.
And so, in spite of Caroline's coldness, he resolved to persevere.
Having thus made up him mind, he turned the conversation to anothersubject.
"You liked the house on the whole; did you?" Caroline during the pastweek had been up to see the new house in Eaton Square.
"Oh, yes; very much. Nothing could be nicer. Only I am afraid it'sexpensive." This was a subject on which Caroline could talk to him.
"Not particularly," said Sir Henry. "Of course one can't get a housein London for nothing. I shall have rather a bargain of that if I canpay the money down. The great thing is whether you like it."
"I was charmed with it. I never saw prettier drawing-rooms--never.And the bedrooms for a London house are so large and airy."
"Did you go into the dining-room?"
"Oh, yes; I went in."
"There's room for four-and-twenty, is there not?"
"Well, I don't know. I can't give an opinion about that. You couldhave three times that number at supper."
"I'm not thinking of suppers; but I'm sure you could. Kitchen'sconvenient, eh?"
"Very--so at least aunt Mary said."
"And now about the furniture. You can give me two or three days intown, can't you?"
"Oh, yes; if you require it. But I would trust your taste in allthose matters."
"My taste! I have neither taste nor time. If you won't mind going to----"
And so the conversation went on for another fifteen minutes, and thenthey were at home. Caroline's boots had begun to tease her, and theirwalk, therefore, had not been prolonged to a great distance.
Ah, me! again I say how pleasant, how delightful were those lovers'walks!
Then Caroline went up to her bedroom, and Sir Henry sat himself downnear Mr. Bertram's chair in the dining-room.
"I wanted to speak to you, sir," said he, rushing at once into themidst of his subject, "about Caroline's settlement. It is timethat all that should be arranged. I would have made my lawyer seePritchett; but I don't know that Pritchett has any authority to actfor you in such matters."
"Act for me! Pritchett has no authority to act--nor have I either."This little renunciation of his granddaughter's affairs was no morethan Sir Henry expected. He was, therefore, neither surprised nordisgusted.
"Well! I only want to know who has the authority. I don't anticipateany great difficulty. Caroline's fortune is not very large; but ofcourse it must be settled. Six thousand pounds, I believe."
"Four, Sir Henry. That is, if I am rightly informed."
"Four, is it? I was told six--I think by George Bertram in formerdays. I should of course pr
efer six; but if it be only four, why wemust make the best of it."
"She has only four of her own," said the old man, somewhat mollified.
"Have you any objection to my telling you what I would propose todo?"
"No objection in life, Sir Henry."
"My income is large; but I want a little ready money at present toconclude the purchase of my house, and to furnish it. Would youobject to the four thousand pounds being paid into my hands, if Iinsure my life for six for her benefit? Were her fortune larger, Ishould of course propose that my insurance should be heavier."
Sir Henry was so very reasonable that Mr. Bertram by degrees thawed.He would make his granddaughter's fortune, six thousand as he hadalways intended. This should be settled on her, the income of coursegoing to her husband. He should insure his life for four thousandmore on her behalf; and Mr. Bertram would lend Sir Henry threethousand for his furniture.
Sir Henry agreed to this, saying to himself that such a loan from Mr.Bertram was equal to a gift. Mr. Bertram himself seemed to look at itin a different light. "Mind, Sir Henry, I shall expect the interestto the day. I will only charge you four per cent. And it must be madea bond debt."
"Oh, certainly," said Sir Henry.
And so the affair of the settlement was arranged.
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