The Gilberts & their Guests. A story of homely English life

Chapter I

The sudden departure of Randall was generally supposed to have been necessitated by professional duty. In a letter received by Mr. Gilbert a few days afterwards from the young officer himself, no explanation of any sort was offered for his abrupt disappearance, and the dissolution of his engagement with Emily was alluded to in some what ambiguous terms, but that implied never theless its being the result of their joint wish; the chief purport of the letter appeared to be the conveyance of thanks for hospitality received, and the expression of earnest wishes for the prosperity and happiness of the whole Gilbert family. To this letter, which indeed required no reply, Mr. Gilbert, making no second attempt to obtain his daughter's confidence, gave none. And although it soon became tacitly understood that the tie between Randall and Emily was broken, the true cause of this untoward transaction remained for the present unexplained.

There was a very sufficient reason why attention was not at once drawn to the perfidy that had been practised. Distressing anxiety at this time excited among the Gilberts by an opinion which Doctor Bassett no longer hesitated to express, of the precarious state of Rhoda's sight, diverted in a measure the general interest from a subject which otherwise would probably have absorbed it. Randall had been gone little more than a week, when Miss Crawford, after hastily glancing at a letter which the early post had just brought her, announced to the assembled breakfast party that she was unexpectedly summoned to London, and that it would be necessary to set off on her journey that same afternoon. Her eyes sparkled as she gave this intelligence, and when, the moment afterwards, she expressed in eloquent Avords unmeasured regret at the prospect of de parture, there was a joyful animation lighting up her whole countenance, strangely at variance with the sentiment she was uttering.

Presently she abruptly broke away from the family party, they supposed to make hurried preparation for her journey, and as with dancing steps she hastened to her apartment, involuntary her mag nificent voice burst into snatches of melody that resounded through the house. No sooner had this spontaneous jubilante ceased than there was heard pouring forth from the piano a full volume of harmony, repeating from time to time a grand German air that was well remembered by Emily as a favourite of Randall's. Fanny, on rising from breakfast, had found a few books belonging to Miss Crawford scattered about the room, and entering the study in order to give them to her, was surprised to find her travelling preparations complete; all her pro perty, with the exception of the piano, being packed up and ready for removal.

It was manifest that the intended journey, so suddenly announced, had been leisurely enough contem plated; that the summons that morning received had been anticipated; but to Fanny's expression of silent astonishment no explanation was vouch safed. Miss Crawford, indeed, appeared alto gether unobservant of it, and quietly thanking her for the books, resumed the performance she had for a moment interrupted. Fanny, perceiving that her company was not desired, returned forthwith to the breakfastroom, and astonished theparty there by announcing that Miss Crawford was ready for her journey. Janet, who was just then removing the tea service, hearing the various observations of surprise which this information called forth from one and another, and more especially from her mistress, exclaimed : — " La ! ma'am, I thought for certain you must know the young lady was a-going.

Why, she's been setting her things straight this week and more; and to my belief she was up half last night finishing of her packing, for what should I see the first thing I went to her room this morning to undraw the window curtains, but all her boxes ready, with the directions wrote out, and she told me for to cord them while she was at breakfast, which I done. And now, if you please, ma'm, I've got to run down to the George to order a fly for her to be here at a quarter be fore one." " Go at once, by all means," said Mrs. Gilbert, and Janet hurried away. " Never mind, my dear," said Mr. Gilbert, observing the look of dissatisfaction on his wife's countenance, "never mind the young lady's taking herself off in this manner. Let her B enjoy her little secret. You may be sure that some love affair is at the bottom of it."

Emily grew pale, and suddenly quitted the room . " Poor love ! poor love !" cried Mrs. Gilbert compassionately. " What weakness !" exclaimed Fanny " Don't be severe on your poor dear sister," pleaded Mrs. Gilbert. " Well, mamma, I suppose, for she has not chosen to enlighten me on the matter," said Fanny with an aggrieved air ; " but I suppose she and Charles have found out between them, what was long ago plain enough to other people, that they don't care for one another as they used to do, and so have agreed to part; and I can see no use in Emily's moping day after day as she does, and her turning red or pale at every other word that chances to be spoken." " Try, my dear, to understand what your sister's feelings may be, by imagining yourself in a similar position to her," suggested Mrs. Gilbert " Oh ! it, is quite beyond me to imagine such an utter impossibility as that," cried Fanny, exult ingly.

" Where certain high principles are held there can be no such thing as fickleness in any matter." " High Church principles, do you mean, my dear?" enquired Mr. Gilbert, hardly suppressing a smile, for it had not escaped his notice that Fanny had of late begun to make broad her phi lacteries, "High Church principles do you mean?" "Yes," she answered, " I do mean High Church principles, or what you call such." " And yet," interposed Andrew, induced to retaliate by what he considered the ill-nature of Fanny's remarks upon Emily, " and yet we know somebody professing those same opinions who could be fickle enough when it answered his purpose ; could turn from one sister to another as if his heart were a weathercock." " It is no such thing. You are a wicked boy to say so," cried Fanny, bursting into tears of mingled anger and mortification."

And Mr. Gilbert gravely rebuked his son. "Your observation was highly improper," he said. "Well," returned Andrew, repentant at sight of his sister's tears, " well, I don't deny that it was ; I'm sorry I said anything of the sort, but I can't bear to hear Emily blamed. You know how good-natured she is herself to everybody; and now if she is unhappy, I think we ought all to be sorry instead of finding fault with her. I daresay too she's been all in the right, though she does seem a little dismal about it; and for my part I'm very glad that she's not going to be married, and going away from us all. Yet if I thought it was the Lieutenant's doing," added Andrew, fiercely, " I'd soon take care that he should not sail away without giving an account of himself." " But as the case stands," said Mr. Gilbert, " he may certainly take his departure without either you or I having anything to say to him.

And now, my boy," he added, " let this subject be no further discussed ; it's an unlucky business, and the least said about it the better. Come, it's time for you and me to be going to the office." " I am sure," sobbed Fanny, as soon as her father and brother were gone, " I am sure I meant no ill-nature to Emily, but I am always blamed for what I don't deserve." " But you must confess, my dear," said Mrs. Gilbert, "that you have been too hard upon your poor sister. Whatever may be the cause of the breach between Randall and herself, it is no doubt a painful -trial to her. And then you should consider hoAv very ill she has lately been, and how weak she is in consequence. For my own part I often feel seriously uneasy at the slow progiess of her recovery, for although pro nounced convalescent, it is clearly apparent that she is by no means restored to her usual state of health, and while continuing to spend the chief part of her time in the darkened room of our poor dear little Rhoda, there can be indeed little chance of her amendment.

I do wish, Fanny, my love, that you would endeavour to persuade her to let you take her place there for an hour or two this morning It is so fine and mild that I think she might venture on a little walk; her health and spirits would no doubt be the better for it." " The afternoon will do as well, I daresay," answered Fanny; " at all events I can't sit with Rhoda now, for there is the church bell." " But as it is not Sunday, my love," began Mrs. Gilbert. " Oh dear ! I shall be too late," interrupted Fanny ; and flying out of the room, she hastily tied on her bonnet and cloak, and with a me diævally ornamented prayer-book in her hand, rushed past the closed door of her little sister's darkened chamber. " That was Fanny's step," said Rhoda, in a pause of the cheerful story, which Emily, strain ing her eyes in the dim light, and with difficulty repressing her tears, was reading aloud for the amusement of the little invalid; "that was Fanny's step ; and now I hear mamma's. Mam ma is coming this way.

" I am coming to take your place here for a while, my dear Emily," said Mrs. Gilbert, as presently afterAvards she stood beside Rhoda's couch ; " you really must have a little walk, if only in the garden, this fine morning. The sun just now is shining so brightly that there can be no risk of harm in your venturing out, indeed it cannot fail to revive and cheer you." " Do go, dear ! " joined in Rhoda. But Emily could not be persuaded, "by and bye, perhaps," she said. At this moment the sound of music mounted to the invalid's chamber ; the door had been left somewhat ajar. Mrs. Gilbert softly closed it, turning an anxious glance towards Emily, who, with her elbow resting on the reading table, was leaning her face on her hand in such a manner as almost to conceal her countenance. " Mamma," said Rhoda presently, " please don't let anybody come to see me this morning."

" Do you feel weaker than usual, my darling?'' anxiously enquired Mrs. Gilbert. " No indeed, dear Mamma, but I should like to be quite quiet." " Well, love, I daresay that will be best for you and I promise that you shall not be disturbed." " Not for anything whatever, please," entreated Rhoda; "not -to have 'good-bye' said to me," she added in a whisper. But it was heard by Emily, "and I, mamma," she said hesitatingly, and still shading her face from view, " I wish to stay here — that is — not to go down stairs till — till after — " Mrs. Gilbert suddenly caught the meaning of these broken words: — "There will be no need for you to appear, my dear," she answered, " I will take care that you are not called down. It shall be understood that you cannot leave your sister. And now," she added, detecting in the attitude of Emily her wish to escape observation, "and now I believe I must at once go and look after my household affairs, or they will be sadly be hindhand," and so saying, she was about to leave the room, when Emily sprang forward and silently kissed her.

Mrs. Gilbert felt that the soft cheek pressed against her own was wet with tears, and on leaving the room sighed heavily, as a sus picion she had endeavoured to stifle began to assume more definite shape. She had, however, little time to spare for painful meditation. Miss CraAvford's comfort, to the last hour of that young lady's sojourn under her roof, must be duly cared for. Accordingly, Mrs. Gilbert was speedily busying herself in directing the preparation of an early dinner, rather than lunch, in anticipa tion of her guest's approaching departure. About noon, Miss Crawford made her appearance in the dining-room, where all the family, in compliment to her approaching departure, were assembled, with the exception of Emily and Rhoda; and the necessity of framing an excuse for theii absence was prevented by Miss Craw ford herself, who feeling, she said, the propriety of their being guarded from all approach to agitation, would deny herself the satisfaction of taking leave of them in person, and instead of it, beg to be allowed to convey to them her farewell and best wishes through the medium of their sister.

Fanny, with more amiable alacrity than she usually displayed, was about at once to fulfil this courteous mission, when she was stopped by Miss Crawford's requesting that she would post pone doing so till after her departure. By this time the carriage was at the door which was to convey the young lady to the rail way station ; and her luggage, under the super intendence of Janet, had already been placed in it. Mr. Gilbert looked at his watch, there was not much time to spare. Miss Crawford rose. Her eyes flashed, and her dusky cheek brightened under the influence of some secret emotion. Janet was at hand with her travelling attire, and in a moment, with her slender figure almost buried beneath a pile of costly wraps, she was ready for departure. As she stood forward to take leave of her com panions, the rich veil, half-shadowing her face, imperfectly concealed a radiant smile playing about her lips, and lighting up her glance, and that was certainly out of harmony with the plaintive voice in which she was uttering her graceful and gracious adieus.

She could never forget, she said, the pleasant time she had been allowed to pass under that hospitable roof, add ing, while she slipped into Mrs. Gilbert's hand a small folded paper, that she could make but poor requital for the favour that had been conferred on her. That her warmest thanks were, she felt, an inadequate return for the kindness she had so plentifully received. But these complimentary professions were presently brought to a close by a hint in regard to time from Mr. Gilbert, who insisted on escorting Miss CraAvford to the station. As they drove from the house, she leaned forward for a moment, and cast a piercing look towards a closely-cur tained window. Mrs. Gilbert, who Avas watching the departure of her late guest, saw that look, and the exultant smile, that accompanied it.

Chapter II

The day following Miss Crawford's departure, Emily, in an interval of watching beside Rhoda, strolled into the deserted study. How dreary it looked ! she thought. Not a book was there, not a single article lay on the work table. The chairs were ranged formally round the room, and the sofa, placed in a line with them, was pushed against the wall. Janet in her best fashion had put the apartment into perfect order, but how bare it seemed of attraction. What was there on which the eye could for a moment rest with pleasure? There was no winter nosegay in the glass vase, no portfolio lying open, no draw ing materials scattered about. The piano, it is true, had retained its old place, but was closed, the owner, who had requested permission to leave it there for the present, had not forgotten to carry away the key.

Emily, regardless of there being no fire burn ing in the grate, lingered long in the cheerless apartment; now pacing it to and fro, now throwing herself on the sofa, and burying her face in the cushions, weeping bitterly. There could be no more happiness for her, she thought. And could he be happy ? How cruelly they had been divided ! Before this artful stranger came, hoAv perfectly they had loved and trusted each other ! It was all over now ; and in a passion of grief she sobbed distractedly. But this mood could not last long. Emily's nature was too amiable for the selfish indulgence of sorrow, too buoyant to suffer unresistingly the heavy pressure of misery, and presently she was striving for composure; resolving for the sake of others to conquer her feelings, or if this were impossible, at least to spare pain to her family and friends by repressing all undue mani festation of them ; and she at once began wiping away her tears.

The mere effort at tranquillity proved salutary, bringing into action a certain measure of mental strength ; and in a wiser vein than they had begun, Emily was soon pursuing her reflections. She had no self-reproach to suffer, she had had no control over the course of circumstances that had been the cause of Randall's alienation from her, and in releasing him from his engagement she had simply done what seemed kindest and best under the condition of his altered feelings. Hitherto also, she had succeeded in screening him from the indignation of her family. She would persevere in this endeavour. All evil that by her means could be averted from him he should be spared. She would not dwell on the wrong that had been committed against herself; she would not harbour an unforgiving temper against her treacherous rival.

She would struggle against the weakness of unavailing regret. She would strive hard to bear with patient dignity the bitterness of her disappointment. Above all she would not alloAV the shadow of her own grief to deepen the cloud already overcasting her home. To the sorrow and anxiety excited on account of their darling Rhoda, it would be cruelty towards her family to add the weight of distress for her self. She would hide from them her suffering heart. But almost unconsciously she was now weeping afresh. Oh, Randall little knew the anguish he had inflicted! Aud was there a heavier trial yet in store for her? What had occasioned the sudden departure of Miss Craw ford ? Was the letter from him, that had called her away? No, no, there could not be such treachery as this ! Charles was even now per haps repenting his inconstancy.

He would one day return and plead to be forgiven. Oh ! how joyfully she would pronounce his pardon. He had loved her so well and so long ; he could not be lastingly estranged from her. He might in deed set sail on his expedition without seeking a reconciliation; but when far away, alone Avith his own "heart, surely it would again yearn to wards her. In three years he would come back, they should meet then, meet hapjfily, their es trangement forgotten, or remembered only to enhance the joy of re-union, and a fond smile came to Emily's lips, while tears yet coursed each other down her cheeks. But the train of thought by which she had arrived at her last conclusion was too inconsistent, — too contradic tory to produce any but a futile result, and the smile presently faded while the tears still flowed on.

In a little while, however, she resolutely ceased weeping, and making an effort to turn her thoughts into a fresh channel, quitted the study, and putting on her bonnet and cloak went to take a few turns in the garden. It was long since she had attended to her favorite plants. They were all leafless now, and some of them, as she perceived, dead. Among this number was one that she especially deplored. Not that it Avas rarer or more beautiful than the others, but the delicate blossoms that in summer it put forth, Emily remembered, had again and ag.iin attracted the admiring notice of Mr. Surrey. And now she would fain have restored the poor withered stem to life, but it was too late : all vitality had gone out of it. She could hot help contemplating it mournfully. It had perished through her neglect; timely shelter from the bleak winter sky would undoubtedly have pre served it.

If every other plant in the garden had been left uncared for, this one at least, she thought, should have been cherished for the sake of the friend who had so often pleaded that not even a leaf should be plucked from it. And Emily fell to thinking of Surrey, of her last walk Avith him in the garden ; and a faint colour stole into her cheeks at the recollection of some words he had then spoken, as now her own wounded heart interpreted something of the sorrow they had but half expressed. Little, however, did VOL. ill. c Emily suspect hoAv dear to Surrey had been her happiness; that in his hope of promoting it, he had generously sought the means of advancing the fortunes of his successful rival, and distaste ful as it was, with his proud and sensitive na ture, to solicit a favour, — that he had used his interest with Lady Dalton, whose nearest rela tive was one of the Lords of the Admiralty, to draw attention to the merits of the young officer, and that it was therefore to him that Randall owed his appointment.

Notwithstanding the dreary aspect of the long neglected garden, Emily returned from it in some measure invigorated. The mere variety of thought that the contemplation of it had in duced was useful. To lose even for a brief period the sense of the burden of her sorrow, was salu tary, a step towards the renewal of the mental and bodily vigour of which anxiety and illness and grief had lately deprived her. During the remainder of that day her cheeks were less pale, and her eyes less tearful, and Rhoda noticed in her voice a more cheerful intonation. She was manifestly beginning to bear up against her sorrow, and a gradual improvement in her health aul spirits soon became perceptible, as day by day she made some new effort at patience and self command. The departure of Miss Crawford had proved a sensible relief — had broken the one painful idea which the mere presence of that young lady in the house could hardly fail to keep con stantly alive.

Emily now more frequently joined the general domestic party, availing herself freely of the opportunity afforded her for doing so by Miss Dale's almost daily visits of at least an hour or two to her young favourite, in whose state there appeared at this time a slight improvement. The anxiety of the family for the darling of them all had in some measure abated, and Doctor Bassett was even talking of deserting his little patient for awhile, and taking a short holiday which he had, he said, for some time promised c himself. He would not go, however, till every unfavourable symptom had been thoroughly con quered. For the sake of no pleasure of his own, Avhile there remained the slightest doubt of her recovery, could he be tempted to transfer the charge of his dear little patient to a brother practitioner who was not, like himself, thoroughly acquainted with the extreme delicacy of her constitution.

His intended trip, therefore, what ever might have been its purpose, was for the present postponed. For the first time these many weeks, Emily now one day went beyond the garden, and taxing her strengh to the utmost, walked as far as the little village where the parents of Randall resided. She had always been in the habit of occasionally visiting them, and had done so some- Avhat more frequently after her marriage with their son had been agreed upon ; but they were aged and recluse people, Avho little enjoyed having their monotonous retirement broken in upon. The grand event of their lives had been their visit to the sea coast, when the frigate on board of which their son then served was in harbour. Emily had on this occasion accompanied them, but oAving to one circumstance and another, had seen but little of them since; and was now abso lutely in ignorance as to whether they were acquainted with the dissolution of her engagement.

As she slowly walked up the narrow garden path leading to their humble home, her heart beat violently, and when presently afterwards she found herself in their presence, she could not at first speak, but sinking into a chair began in voluntarily to weep. " Never mind, my dear," said the old clergy man, kindly taking her hand; "never mind, no doubt it is all for the best." " To be sure it is," said his somewhat worldly minded wife, " and Miss Gilbert will think so herself one of these days. What had they to begin life upon?" They did know then that all was. at an end between Charles and herself, but obviously this was no cause of regret to them, and Emily's pale cheeks flushed, and drying her tears she tried hard for composure, but the very effort caused her to sob. "Come, come," said the old lady, "don't be cast down.

It was your own doing, you know, and very wise it was of you." Emily Avas now speechless from astonishment. She little guessed that the satisfaction expressed was the result of Mrs. Randall's having pryed into a letter addressed to her son, which had not only revealed the direction of Miss Crawford's affections, but had also made clear to her the amount of that young lady's fortune. " Take a glass of wine, my dear," said the ancient curate, draAving forth from a dark cup board a dim decanter containing some cloudy looking fluid, " take a glass of wine, it will do you good." And his wife produced from the same corner the remains of a homely cake. But Emily shook her head, mutely declining their hospitality. " Well," said Mrs. Randall, " we won't press you against your will. You have not got your appetite back yet.

But I must say you seem better than I expected to see you after what Charles told us of your changed looks. You are groAvn thinner certainly, but there's as fine a colour in your cheeks at this very moment as I ever saw. you witb." Emily felt that she was indeed flushing crimson through the painful emotion that the words of Mrs. Randall were every moment calling up. " Well," continued the lady presently, " now you are recovering, I suppose that Miss Fanny's marriage will be soon taking place?" Emily answered that they were looking forward to it. " Ah, my dear," said Mrs. Randall, " your sister has made a very comfortable choice. She AviU have a quiet settled home, and her husband always with her, — a great blessing as I think, and one that can never be enjoyed by my son's Avife whoever she may be; for here he is, you see, now going abroad for three years, and he may no sooner come back than very likely he will be ordered off again.

He can't come now to say * good-bye,' before he sails. I had a letter from him yesterday, begging me to pack up some books and other things that he forgot to carry with him. He went off in such a hurry, you know, about some business that called him, he said, to London." " To London ! " exclaimed Emily suddenly turning pale. " Yes, my dear, and there he has been ever since, but he must join his ship at Plymouth the week after next. However, as I told you, he is not coming here first, which, all things considered, is best perhaps." Emily could endure no more. She was already, with much effort, stifling her sobs. Her full heart must have relief, and she yearned to be alone. AND TnEIR GUESTS. Dropping her veil over her face, she rose up to go, and with difficulty articulating her adieus, hastily passed out of the house.

Hardly was she out of sight of it, when unable any longer to control the misery of her feelings, she found it impossible to proceed, and leaning against a gate by the way-side, gave free vent to the emotion she had been vainly struggling to overcome, and yielding to the impulse of the moment wept abundantly. In this irrepressible outburst of her troubled heart she was so completely absorbed, that she failed to notice the sound of approaching wheels, and when having drawn near they suddenly stopped, she was abruptly roused out of her abstraction by hearing a well-known voice, and looking up through her tears, she perceived Doctor Bassett seated in his gig, and regarding her with evident astonishment. A quick sense of shame in being thus surprised superseded on the instant all other emotion and dyed her cheeks with crimson.

Hastily brushing aAvay her tears she silently accepted an invitation to be driven C homewards. No sooner was she seated beside the Doctor, than, drawing forward a thick rug, he busied himself in endeavouring to protect her from the cold, without once glancing towards her countenance, and presently afterwards, giving the rein to his horse, and still studiously avert ing his regard from the veiled face beside him, he fell into talk about the damage that a severe frost of the night before had inflicted on some choice plants in his garden, and then passed on to a recital of the quaint oddities of his old housekeeper, relating Avith so much humour some of her comical conceits and curious contrivances for his comfort, that Emily was perforce again and again beguiled into a smile, though escaping altogether the necessity of bearing any part in the conversation; the Doctor very skillfully contriving, as if undesignedly, himself entirely to monopolize it.