Clara Vaughan, Volume 3 (of 3)

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER III.

  When my Uncle saw that letter, he declared that he would go to Londonwith me. No power on earth should prevent him. Not even hisself-willed Clara. It was not revenge he wanted: even though it were forhis innocent brother, whose wrongs he could not pardon. No, if thesmall-minded wretch who had spent his life in destroying afellow-creature's, if that contemptible miscreant lay at his feetto-morrow, he would not plant foot upon him; but forgive him heartily,if he had the grace to desire it. But for his children,--for them hemust go to London. Only let him see them once before he died. Notorpid limbs for him. Who said he was old--and he only forty-seven?

  One thing seemed rather strange to me. He longed, yearned I should say,to look upon his little Lily even more than on the child he knew, hisson, his first-born Harry. "Why, Clara," he used to say, "she is nearlyas old as you, and you are a full-grown girl. On the 21st of thismonth"--it was now July--"she will be eighteen; I can hardly believe it.I wonder what she is like. Most likely she takes after her lovelymother. No doubt of it, I should say. Don't you think so, Clara?"

  "Of course, Uncle," I would reply, knowing nothing at all about it, "ofcourse she does. How I should like to see her."

  Perhaps fifty times a day, he would ask for my opinion, and I woulddeliver it firmly, perhaps in the very same words and without a shade ofmisgiving; and though of no value whatever, it seemed to comfort himevery time. But the prolonged excitement, and the stress of imaginationexerted on Lily junior, told upon him rapidly in his worn and weakcondition. Longing for his company, assistance, and advice, I waitedfrom day to day, even at the risk of leaving Balaam and Balak withoutgood beer. All this time, my imagination was busy with weak surmises,faint suspicions, and tangled recollections.

  At last, I could delay no longer. Tuesday was the latest day I couldconsent to wait for, and on the Monday my Uncle was more nervous andweak than ever. It was too plain that he must not attempt the journey,and that the long suspense was impairing his feeble health. So for onceI showed some decision--which seemed to have failed me of late--withouttelling him any more about it, I got everything ready, and appeared athis bedroom door, only to say "Good bye." Annie Franks, who was goingwith me, for a short visit to her father, hung back in some amazement,doubting whether she had any right to be there, and dragged off her legsby the coil of my strong will. My poor Uncle seemed quite taken aback;but as it could not be helped, he speedily made up his mind to it. "Thecarriage was at the door;" which announcement to English minds precludesall further argument.

  "Good bye, Uncle dear," I cried, as cheerily as I could, "I shall beback by the end of the week and bring your Lily with me. Give me a goodkiss for her, and now another for myself."

  He was sitting up in the bed, with a Cashmere dressing-gown on, andporing over some relics of olden time.

  "Good bye, my darling, and don't be long away. They have robbed meenough already."

  After giving Judy the strictest orders, I hurried off in fear and hope,doubtful whether I ought to go. Annie lingered and gave him a kiss, forshe was very fond of him. He whispered something about me, which I didnot stop to hear, for I wanted to leave him in good spirits.

  After a rapid journey, I saw dear Annie safe in the arms of her fatherand mother, and found Mrs. Shelfer at home, and in capital spirits, allthe birds, &c. well, and no distress in the house. Charley was doingwonders, wonders, my good friend, sticking to his work, yes, yes, andnot inside the public house for the best part of the week. Leastways sohe said, and it would not do to contradict him. And she really didbelieve there were only three bills over-due!

  My little rooms were snug and quiet, and the dust not more than half aninch thick. Mrs. Shelfer used to say that dusting furniture was theworst thing in the world to wear it out. According to her theory, thedust excluded the air, especially from the joints, and prevented thefly-blows coming. However, I made her come up and furbish, while I wentout to post a letter for Messrs. Balaam and Balak, requesting them tovisit me in the morning.

  When things were set to rights a little, and air, which Mrs. Shelferhated, flowed in from either balcony, I bought a fine crab and someSally Lunns, and begged for the pleasure of my landlady's company attea. This she gladly gave me, for the little woman loved nothing betterthan sucking the hairy legs of a crab. But she was so overcome by therumours of my wealth, that she even feared to eject the pieces in herordinary manner, and the front rail of her chair was like the beam of abalance. Infinitely rather would I be poor myself, than have peopleceremonious to me because I am not poor; and to tell the honest truth, Ibelieve there is a vein of very low blood in me, which blushes at thesense of riches and position. Why should I have every luxury, that isif I choose to have it, while men and women of a thousand times my mind,and soul, and heart, spend their precious lives in earning the value oftheir coffins?

  This thought has wearied many a mind of pure aerial flight, comparedwhereto my weak departures are but the hops of a flea; so I lose theimago, but catch the larva, upon the nettle, practice. Mrs. Shelfer issoon at ease; and we talk of the price of cat's meat, and how dearsausages are, and laugh--myself with sorrow--over the bygone days, whendripping played the role of butter, and Judy would not take a bonebecause he thought I wanted it.

  Then we talk over the news. Miss Idols had been there, bless her sweetface, yes, ever so many times, to look for letters, or to hear tidingsof me. But she was not one bit like herself. She never teased the poorlittle woman now; the poor little woman wished very much she would. Oh,I should hardly know her. She did not know which bird it was that hadthe wooden leg, and had forgotten the difference between a meal-worm anda lob. And she did not care which way she rubbed the ears of themarmoset. Mrs. Shelfer believed, but for the world it must not be toldagain, that Isola was deeply in love, unrequited love, perhaps one ofthe weteranarian gents. They did say they had some stuff as would leada girl like a horse. But whatever it was, Mrs. Shelfer only knew thatshe could not get at the rights of it. Girls had grown so cunningnow-a-days, what with the great supernatural exhibition, and the hatsthey had taken to wear flat on the tops of their heads, not at all whatthey used to be when she and Charley were young. Then a young woman wasnot afraid of showing what her neck was like; now she tucked it incotton wool like a canary's egg. And what were they the better, slyminxes? She saw enough of it in the Square garden, and them showingtheir little sisters' legs for patterns of their own, oh fie!"

  "Come, Mrs. Shelfer, no scandal, if you please. What news of your UncleJohn?"

  "Ah, Miss, you must ask the sharks, and the lobsters, and the bigsea-serpent. They do say, down at Wapping, that the ship was cast awayamong the cannibal islands, and the people ate a policeman, and he uponhis promotion. What a pity, what a pity! And his coat four andsixpence a yard, ready shrunk! But them natives is outrageous."

  "Nonsense, Patty, I don't believe a word of it. Sailors are dreadfulstory-tellers, ever since the days of Sindbad. Has any one besides MissIsola, Mrs. Elton, or any one, been here to ask for me?"

  "No, Miss, Mr. Conrad never come after the day you served him sodreadful; and Miss Idols say he went back and spoiled 300*l.* worth ofwork; but that great lady with the red plush breeches, and the pink silkstockings, and the baker's shop in their hair, she been here twice lastweek, and left a letter for you. And Balaam been here several times, andBalak along of him; but I banged the door on them both, now I hear theybe out of the business, and a nice young man set up who don't botherabout the gun."

  "Lady Cranberry's letter may lie there, and go back the next time AnnMaples comes. But the bailiffs I must see. If they come to-morrow, letthem in immediately. And how are all my friends at the Mews?"

  Her reply would fill a chapter, so I will not enter upon it, but go tobed and miss the sound of dear Judy's tail at the door. In the firstcourse of my dreams, Mr. Shelfer passed on his bedward road, havingpolitely taken his shoes off at the bottom of the stairs; in do
ing whichhe made at least three times the noise his shodden feet would haveinflicted.

  In the morning I took my old walk round the Square, and then sat downand tried to be patient until the bailiffs should come. Of course I didnot mean to go to my darling Isola, nor even to let her know that I wasso near at hand, although my heart was burning to see her sweet faceagain. I even kept away from the window, though I wanted to watch forthe bailiffs, and strictly ordered Mrs. Shelfer not to tell her, if sheshould call, a word about my being there. However, it was all in vain.Mr. Shelfer went out after breakfast to his play-work in the Square, andthe smell of his pipe invaded my little room. I think he must have leftthe front door open; at any rate I heard, all of a sudden, a quickpatter of running feet, and such a crying and sobbing, and Mrs. Shelferhurrying out to meet it.

  "You can't, Miss, you can't indeed--not for a thousand pounds. Therooms are let, I tell you, and you can't go up. Oh dear, oh dear,whatever am I to do?"

  "Patty, I _will_ go up. I don't care who's there. My heart isbreaking, and I _will_ die on my darling's bed. If you stand there, I'llpush you. Out of the way, I tell you." And up flew Idols, in a perfectmess of tears. What could I do but fly to meet her, and hug my only pet?What with her passion of grief, and sudden joy, at seeing me, shefainted away in my arms. I got her somehow to the sofa, and kissed herinto her senses again. When she came to herself, and felt sure it wasnot a dream, she nestled into my bosom, as if I had been her husband,and stole long glances at me to see whether I was offended. Her prettycloak lay on the floor, and her hat beneath the table. For a long timeshe sobbed and trembled so that she could not say a word, while I kepton whispering such vain words as these:

  "Never mind, my pet. There, you have cried enough. Tell your own dearClara who has dared to vex you."

  To see that sweet child's misery, I felt in such a rage, I could haveboxed her enemy's ears. But I never thought that it was more than achild's vexation. At last, after drinking a tumblerful of water, andgiving room to her palpitating heart, she contrived to tell me hertrouble.

  "Why, dear, you know my pappy--pappy I used to call him--he is not mypapa at all, he says himself he is not; and that is not the worst of it,for I could do well enough without him, he is always so dreadfullycross, and doesn't care for me one bit. I could do without him verywell, if I had a proper papa, or if my father was dead and had loved mebefore he died; but now I have no father at all, and never had any inthe world; I am only an outcast, an abandoned-- Oh, Clara, will youpromise to forgive me, and love me all the same?"

  "To be sure I will, my dearest. I am sure, you have done no harm. Andeven if you have been led astray--"

  She looked at me with quick pride flashing through her abasement, andshe took her arm off my shoulder.

  "No, you have quite mistaken me. Do you think I would sit here and kissyou, if I were a wicked girl? But who am I to be indignant at anythingnow? He told me--are you sure the door is shut?--he told me, with asneer, that I was a base-born child, and he used a worse word thanthat."

  She fell away from me, her cheeks all crimson with shame, and her longeyelashes drooping heavily on them. I caught her to my heart: poorwronged one, was she a whit less pure? I seemed to love her the better,for her great misfortune. Of course, I had guessed it long ago, fromwhat her brother told me.

  "And who is your father, my pretty? Any father must be a fool who wouldnot be proud of you."

  "Oh, Clara, the worst of it is that I have not the least idea. But fromsomething that hard man said, I believe he was an Englishman. I think Icould have got everything from him, he was so beside himself; but whenhe told me that dreadful thing, and said that my father had lied to mymother and ruined her, I felt so sick that I could not speak, till heturned me out of the house, and struck me as I went."

  "What?"

  "Yes, he turned me out of the house, and gave me the blow of disgrace,and said I should never look on his face again. He had won hisrevenge--I cannot tell what he meant, for I never harmed him--and now Imight follow my mother, and take to--I can't repeat it, but it was worsethan death. No fear of my starving, he said, with this poor face ofmine. And so I was going to Conny, dear Conny; I think he knew it alllong ago, but could not bear to tell me. And I sat on some steps in alonely place, for I did not know how to walk, and I prayed to see youand die: then old Cora came after me, and even she was crying, and shegave me all her money, and a morsel of the true cross, and told me tocome here first, for Conny was out of town, and she would come to see meat dark; and perhaps the Professor would take me back when his rage wasover. Do you think I would ever go? And after what he told me to do!"

  Such depth of loathing and scorn in those gentle violet eyes, and herplayful face for the moment so haughtily wild and implacable--ClaraVaughan, in her stately rancour, seemed an iceberg by a volcano.

  I saw that it was the moment for learning all that she knew; and thetime for scruples was past.

  "Isola, tell me all you have heard, about this dastard bully?"

  "I know very little; he has taken good care of that. I only know that hedid most horrible things to unfortunate cats and dogs. It made meshudder to touch him at one time. But he gave that up I believe. Butthere is some dark and fearful mystery, which my brother has found out;that is if he be my brother. How can I tell even that? Whatever thediscovery was, it made such a change in him, that he cared for nothingafterwards, until he saw you, Clara. I am not very sharp, you know,though I have learned so much, that perhaps you think I am."

  "My darling, I never thought such a thing for a moment."

  "Oh, I am very glad. At any rate I like to talk as if I was clever.And some people say I am. But, clever or stupid, I am almost certainthat Conny found out only half the secret; and then on the day when hecame of age, that man told him the rest, either for his own purposes, orholy Madonna knows why."

  "When was your brother of age?"

  "Last Christmas Eve. Don't you remember what I told you at the schoolof design that day?"

  "And when is your birthday, Isola?"

  "I am sure I don't know, but somewhere about Midsummer. They never toldConny when his was, but he knew it somehow. Come, he is clever now,Clara, though you don't think I am. Isn't he now? Tell the truth."

  "I am thinking of far more important matters than your rude brother'sability. Whence did you come to England and when?"

  This was quite a shot in the dark. But I had long suspected that theywere of Southern race.

  "I am sure I don't know. I was quite a child at the time, and thesubject has been interdicted; but I think we came from Italy, and atleast ten years ago."

  "And your brother speaks Italian more readily than English. Can youtell me anything more?"

  "Nothing. Only I know that old Cora is a Corsican: she boasts of itevery night, when she comes to see me in bed, although she has beenforbidden. But what does she care--she asks--for this dirty littleEnglish island? And she sits by my bed, and sings droning songs, which Ihardly understand; but she says they are beautiful nannas."

  How my heart was beating, at every simple sentence. None of this had Iheard before, because she durst not tell it.

  "Any other questions, Donna?" She was recovering her spirits, as girlsalways do by talking. "Why, my darling, you ought to have a wig. Youbeat all the senior sophists."

  "Yes. Now come and kiss me. Kiss me for a pledge that you will neverleave me. I am rich again now: you can't tell how rich I am, andnothing to do with my money, and nobody likely to share it. If you weremy own sister, I could not love you more; and most likely I should notlove you a quarter as much. And my Uncle longs to see you so. You shallcome and live with me, and we'll be two old maids together. Now promise,darling, promise. Kiss me, and seal the bargain."

  "Clara, I would rather be your servant than the queen of the world.Only promise first that you will never scold me. I cannot bear beingscolded. I never used to be; and it will turn all my hair gray."

/>   "I will promise never to scold you, unless you run away."

  She swept back her beautiful hair, threw her arms round my neck, lookedin my eyes with a well-spring of love, and kissed me. Oh, traitorousClara, it was not the kiss--deeply as I loved her--but the evidence Iwanted. I knew that with her ardent nature she would breathe her soulupon me. The exquisite fragrance of her breath was like the windstealing over violets. I had noticed it often before. My last weakdoubt was scattered; yet I played with her and myself, one sweet momentlonger.

  "Darling, what scent do you use? What is it you wash your teeth with?"

  "Nothing but water, Clara; what makes you ask in that way?"

  "And the perfume in your hair--what is it? Oh, you little Rimmel!"

  "Nothing at all, Donna. I never use anything scented. Not even Eau deCologne. I hate all the stuff they sell."

  "How very odd! Why, I could have declared that your lips and your hairwere sprinkled with extract of violets."

  "Oh, now I know what you mean. I never perceive it myself, but numbersof people have fancied that I use artificial perfume. But that man--oh,what shall I call him? And only this morning I called him 'pappy'--healways accounts for everything, you know; and he said it washered--herod--I can't say it now, the long English word, but I could atcollege--no matter, it means something in the family. My mother, hesaid, was so well known to possess it, that she had an Italian nameamong the servants for it; though her real name was quite a differentflower. Clara, why do you look at me so? And what are you crying for?"

  "Because, my own darling dear, I have not loved you for nothing. Youare my own flesh and blood. You are my own cousin, I tell you, my dearUncle's daughter; and your name is Lily Vaughan."

  She drew her arms from me, and leaped up from the sofa; she was soamazed and frightened. She looked at me most sadly, believing that Iwas mad; then she fainted again, and fell back into my arms.

  When I had brought her round, and propped her up with a pillow--forcushions were very scarce--the strain of the mind being over, my brainbegan to whirl so that I could neither think nor act. For a long time Icould not have enough of kissing and hugging Idols. I played with herhair, as if I had been her lover; and then patted and caressed her, asif she had been my baby. And had I no thought of another, who ought tobe doing all this to me? Yes, I fear that it lay in the depth of myheart, stronger than maid's love of maiden, or even than my delight atthe joy coming to my Uncle.

  Then I hated myself for my selfishness, and caught up my Lily and rubbedher, and made her understand things. I flung a decanter of water overboth her and myself, which saved us from hysterics.

  Poor little thing! She was not like me. Strong Passion was a strangerto her, and she fell before his blow. I had fought with him so long,that I met him like a prize-fighter, and countered at every stroke. Upran Mrs. Shelfer, in the height and crest of the wave, when backwards orforwards, crying or laughing, hung on a puff of wind. She came with acommonplace motive; she thought we were playing at cricket with herbeloved sticks. Her arrival made a diversion, though it had no othereffect, for I walked the little thing out, and locked the door behindher.

  Then I got my darling new cousin into my arms, and kissed her, andmarched her about the room, and made her show her Vaughan instep.Excuse the petty nonsense--what women are quite free from it?--but formany generations our feet have been arched and pointed: of course itdoes not matter; still I was glad that hers were of the true Vaughanpattern. Then, as she so hated all the stuffs they sell, I showeredover her an entire bottle of the very best Eau de Cologne. It was a bitof bullying; but all girls of high spirit are bullies. And it made hereyes water so dreadfully, that she cried as hard as I did.