From Moor Isles. A love story

Chapter I

'AGE III. What we talked of ... ... 3 IV. "We should not allow it" ... 27 V. Diplomatic Relations ... ... 46 VI. Gathering Clouds ... ... 65 VII. The Holidays and afterwards ... 83 VIII. I speak to Professor Willoughby 92 IX. A Correspondence 1 1 1

PART V.

I. Ines writes ... ... ... 151 II. Coming to an Understanding ... 176 111. Elisabeth's Mission ... ... 207 IV. At Thornton ... ... ... CONTENTS. CHAPTER HCE V. Lucy ... .. ... ... 249 VI. "Then Good-night, Alas!" ... 264 VII. Ines writes ... ... ... 282 VIII. From Moor Isles ... ...

PART IV.

( Continued. ) VOL. III. 4°

Chapter III. What We Talked Of

I was by no means overjoyed at this encounter. Rather would I have met, thus suddenly, either my grandfather himself, or my other cousin, Maud, the young man's sister. The old man, I was sure, hated the sight of me, and the young girl was absolutely indifferent as to whether she ever saw me or heard of me again. Neither of them, I was sure, would have made any effort to break the ice, if I had been reserved or distant with them. . This was a different case altogether. Dimly I felt that Maurice was as pleased to have met me as I was displeased to have met him. Dimly also, and in a vague and formless way, I felt that if I made myself unpleasant to him, that would only be an incentive to him to persevere in his determination to become acquainted with me. I stood and looked at him, without saying a word.

" I think you must remember as much as that — that we have met before," he said, holding his ground unembarrassed, in spite of my stare and my silence. " Oh yes, I have not forgotten you," I admitted ; and he looked pleased, which vexed me, and I was almost sorry I had made the admission, though I must either have done so or maintained silence. I tried to rob my reply of any gracious ness it might have had, by adding, " It was so splendid, that musical festival, and so delightful. I remember every incident connected with it." " With pleasure ? " he asked. " By no means altogether with pleasure," I replied emphatically, recollecting all at once several very painful episodes belonging to that time. He evidently took my words to refer to himself and our meeting ; he looked very grave, and bowed a little stiffly.

" You certainly did not look as if you found it all so very delightful when I saw you there," he observed. I did not care to pursue this subject. I introduced another. " I did not know you visited here," I said. " I don't — at least, I have never been here before. I came with Frankland, a friend of mine, who brought me. He said he often came here." " Oh yes, I have seen Mr. Frankland here. He does those lovely water-colour drawings of reeds and rivers." " The same," said Maurice, smiling. At that moment Dr. Barthel suddenly made his appearance again, with a smile on his face, and some pictures in his hand. Whether he saw something unusual in my expression, some change since he had left me, I know not — it is very possible that he did. His eyes rested on me, then on Maurice for a moment; then, with a bow — " Pardon, mein Fraulein, I see you are engaged."

" No," I began, but not very energetic ally. My heart was full of wrath against him for not having returned five minutes sooner. And yet, as I knew full well, had he done so, it would only have put off this interview for a time ; it would not have prevented it. My " no " was so low that he did not hear it, but turned away and went to show his photographs to some one else. Maurice, without any appearance of haste or dis comfiture, went on — " Frankland told me he had met you here — that was one reason why I came, though I was hoping to see you soon, in any case." " Indeed ! " I said haughtily. I could hear the disagreeable inflection in my own voice, but it did not disturb him. " I am coming to call upon you soon, if you will be so good as to say that I may." " You must ask Madame Prenat. I do not receive any visitors independently of her."

" I have seen her, and spoken to her, and she was good enough to say I might it come. If he had not spoken with such calm, convinced assurance that all was right, if there had been a doubt or hesitation in his manner, I might have submitted, and said no more. But something in his tone compelled me to oppose him. " And Madame Prenat," I said, and then felt that I had begun a difficult statement, " she knows better than I do who my — who Mr. Arkwright " I was surprised to see the effect of my words upon this cool and self-possessed young man. He winced suddenly, as if struck on a sore point. His pale face flushed ; the smile which had been hovering about it disappeared, a look of pride and displeasure replaced it. " I know Mr. Arkwright," he said coldly. " Do you suppose I don't understand all about that ?

Surely you must remember that he gave me his card that day, at the Festival. I called upon him at his club, and had lunch with him — I didn't want to," he added, looking vexed at the very recollection of it, "but under the circum stances there was nothing else to be done." " You perhaps did not think his company good enough for you/' I said deliberately, and then, curiosity getting the better of displeasure, I went on — " How long is it since you saw him ? Tell me about it." " Oh, two or three weeks ago." " And he said " " He said he had not the slightest objection to my calling upon you and becoming further acquainted with you, provided " "Provided?" " That my grandfather knew all about it, and approved of it." " And does he ? " " He does not — yet. I shall tell him — write to him, that is, to-morrow morning, and say that I met you here, and what Mr. Arkwright and Madame Prenat have said, and what I intend to do."

" And pray, what will he say ? " I asked, leaning back in the sofa on which I was seated. He was still standing, looking down upon me, and we were practically alone. I spoke coldly, though I felt any thing but cool. It was so obvious (I thought) that Mr. Grey would not approve. In that idea there was a prospect of relief. If Mr. Grey disapproved, perhaps Maurice would not call upon me. " He — oh, well, I do my own way pretty much," said Maurice, calmly. "He was very stern to his sons, but he is very indulgent to his grandchildren. They say it's a way that grandfathers often have." " Still you have not told me what he is likely to say," I observed ; " but from your manner I gather that he will say some thing very disagreeable." " No, I don't think he will," said Maurice, carelessly ; " but if he did, I should not mind it in the least."

" But perhaps I should," I said quietly, though my heart was beating madly. He looked at me quickly. The spirit moved me to go on, and say all that was in my mind, wise or foolish, dignified or the reverse. It burnt me, and I spoke it out. And let it be understood that though I spoke in my own name, it was not of my own rights or deserts that I was thinking. "It seems to me," I said, "that you think you have nothing to do but say you are going to call upon me, and that I shall be delighted to receive you, no matter what there may be behind. I almost wonder," I went on, with extreme bitterness, " that you condescended to consult Mr. Arkwright or to ask his permission. He is kindness itself — he would never do anything to hurt any one's feelings ; but if you suppose that / will allow such a thing, knowing — you cannot deny it — that Mr. Grey has as great an objection as ever to his low relations, you are mistaken."

"Cousin Ines ! " His nonchalant attitude changed in a moment ; he bent earnestly forward, and said in low, eager tones, to which I was forced to listen, though I hated it, and which impressed me whether I would or no, " For heaven's sake, don't talk in that way. That is a very great mistake you are making, you don't know how great a mistake. Listen ; I must tell you. Excuse me seating myself beside you, but I don't want any one else to hear. If you knew or had the least idea of what passed between my grandfather and me after we had met you that day at Kirkfence, you would understand. He is the proudest man in England, I believe, especially on all personal points, and questions of honour, and the conduct of a gentleman. He had never told us about you — he had buried it away, and trusted, I suppose, to our never meeting.

He had to explain it all to me that day ; and to do it must have cost him absolute agony. I hate to think of it ; and yet I shall never forget it. He told me everything. He said that a month after he had let you go, in his enmity to his son's wife, he repented it bitterly ; it had been the false step of his life. If he had had a wife to help him out with it, he would have got you back again. But he was too proud and too miserable." "If you call that pride " I began " It's what people call pride, though it is self-love mostly. That is how he is made. He can't help himself. He said you would haunt him. I said you ought to be with us ; and he said, ' Yes, but it's too late now.' No, he will be glad that I am to see you. It isn't that that will make him angry," Maurice continued, wrinkling his brow and passing his hand over his hair.

" No. What then ? " I asked, in a low voice, feeling that I knew well what the answer would be, and feeling at the same time a force of passionate anger, of fierce, increasing indignation and scorn rising quite uncontrollably within me ; which feeling at the moment rather exhilarated me, but afterwards, when I looked back upon it, and realized the capacity for evil emotion which I had suddenly discovered within myself, terrified me. " What then ? " I repeated. " The same feeling that made him say to me then, ' Maurice, you will be the head of our house when I am gone. This is the wrong I've done you. Can you ever forgive me for it, for losing my head, and delivering over your cousin — who ought to have been the same to me as your sister — into the absolute power and control of a man who is in no wise related to us, on whom we have no claim, letting her eat the bread and depend on the bounty of a professional singer ? ' " I bent my head, so that he did not see my face, and with the same terrible feelings of passionate, vindictive anger still raging within me, I let him go on, and I heard him, and understood him, though all the time I was saying to my self, in a little inner voice, " Ah, Monsieur Fedix, my good, my kind Monsieur Felix, do not be angry that I let him babble on in this way ; wait till my turn comes to speak."

"It was a fearful mistake to make," Maurice went on, in an awestruck kind of voice, " to let Mr. Arkwright, how ever good his intentions may have been, establish a claim over you, which we cannot dispute if he opposed it, how ever unfitting we may feel it that you should be in such a position with regard to him." He paused, shaking his head, and looked towards the ground. " Was it ? That will do, sir. You have said enough, and more than enough, to make me more thankful than ever that I am his dependent, and not yours and your grandfather's." I felt my face going white. I saw the sudden startled look on his face, and I went on — " Unfitting that I should be in such a position with regard to him — why unfitting ? Is it unfitting that one should be bound by ties of gratitude to a person who was kind and generous and self-forgetful, when every one else was the reverse ?

A professional singer " — -I continued—" all I can see about that is, that a professional singer is better than some people who are not professional singers. What do you think I am made of, that you should say such things to me ? Do you expect me to agree with you ? Why should I ? What are you to me, and what is he not to me ? I have not the slightest, not the faintest interest in any of your family, as relations, and I know nothing of you in any other capacity. I don't care what you think. I don't care how many mistakes your grand father may have made. You are all nothings to me. I would rather not know any of you, or have anything to do with you. But I believe what you say, when VOL. III. you tell me of your meeting with him. I believe it, because that other time he thought proper to introduce me to you.

He has given you permission to come and see me. You say he approved of it, and wished it. I told you he would never hurt any one's feelings." " In that you do not resemble him," said my cousin, in a low voice ; but I was far too excited to attend to him. " For that reason I will receive you, and for no other — simply because he wishes it, and because whatever he does wish is law to me. So you may come and see me, if you still desire it, after this, since he said so. But I know he wouldn't ask me to know people I hated, and if ever I heard you speak his name again in that tone, I should hate you and would never speak to you any more. Do you understand ? Why should I want to speak to you ? Tell me that. Why should I want to have any thing to do with you ? " I looked at him, breathless. Though Maurice was young, he was a good many years older than I. He could command his feelings, to gain his own purposes.

He returned my look, and said — " Before I answer that question, let me tell you something. The first time I saw you, I thought you had the sweetest face and the gentlest expression I had ever beheld. This evening when I caught sight of you, I still thought the same, but I saw also that you looked proud and reserved. But now, cousin Ines, do you know, I do not think anger and an angry expression suit you. I should hardly know you for the same person whom I saw leaning on Mr. Arkwright's arm at Kirkfence. And another thing, I do not think you mind at all what you say, to hurt the feelings of others. I do not think you try in the least to enter into the position of others. If you will kindly try to think, for one moment, of the sort of life in which such people as my sister Maud and myself are brought up, with regard to everything outside their own immediate circle of intimates and equals, and will then recollect that we had grown up almost without knowing of your existence ; that suddenly, we are confronted by you ; you are led up to us — you remember under what circumstances — I refrain from going into details again ; it comes upon us like a thunderclap.

I have just sufficient presence of mind left to introduce myself to Mr. Arkwright and ask for an introduction to you. I go back with my grandfather to his hotel, and hear all this story ; my astonished ears can scarcely take it in. I can scarcely grasp the idea of such a mistake having been made. I have thought constantly since of how I could best show that I could never have approved of such a thing — that I should like us to be on good terms. I have gone so far as to speak very strongly of my grandfather's weakness and wrong ness in the matter. I have thought of fifty ways of appealing to you to forgive him his mistake. Don't you think there is something dreadfully hard in your way of visiting his folly upon him, and making it an excuse for hating him ? There is such a thing as forgiveness.

You do not show any sign of it, I must say." " I can forgive that, or most other things, I dare say," I replied indifferently. " I do not care enough about what I may have lost by not belonging to you, to trouble myself about that. But what I will not forgive, or even try to forgive, is that you should speak of him with contempt. I — what am I, that such a fuss should be made about me ? But he is different. That is what I mean." " I meant no contempt. It seems to me that you do not quite understand. But let that pass. I hope never to be so unfor tunate as to rouse your anger and enmity in this way again." (A chilly feeling came creeping over me ; I began to feel small. Was this the sole result of madame's teaching — that I was to be beaten in good temper and polite behaviour by a barbarian like my cousin Maurice Grey ?)

" I will bear in mind all that you have said. I think I can understand it. I think I can see where you were wounded. And I beg your pardon for having spoken of Mr. Arkwright in that way. It shall not happen again. But the time will come when you will be ready to receive me for my own sake, and not merely on that account. You say I may call — well, I shall do so. Apart from yourself, it will be a pleasure to me to know Madame Prenat, a lady of whom I have heard much, and for whose ideas I have great admiration. My grandfather and my sister are down in the country. They come up to town only once a year ; so they need not offend you. I am conceited enough to believe that in time I may succeed in causing you to think not quite so ill of our family." " You can do what you like," I replied, still darkly.

" I have only told you what I thought.'" " And that is always justifiable, under any circumstances, is it not ? " he said amiably. " Have you read ' The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table ' ? " "Yes." " In that book there is a fine passage about telling disagreeable truths to people. But he refers to intimate friends. It is one of the truest things ever written, and every one ought to know it by heart. Many a fine friendship has been wrecked on that rock — the irrepressible love of saying 'what I thought,' of one of the parties." I sighed profoundly. He seemed to me to be a very extraordinary and not altogether satisfactory young man ; and I wondered which of us during this con troversy had said the more plainly what he or she thought. At that moment Madame Prenat came up. "Ah, Mr. Grey, you have found your cousin !

Have you arranged anything about coming to see her ? " " Only in a general way," he said gravely, and as it seemed to me, ironically. " We must go now, Ines, my child. You have a busy day before you to-morrow. ' Only in a general way ' is not very satis factory, is it ? Therefore, I will be par ticular instead of general, and say, will you dine with us to-morrow at eight ? We shall be alone, and it will give me pleasure to see you." " I shall be only too delighted," he replied, with a grateful smile and a pro found bow. " That is decided, then. We shall expect you," she said briskly. I made no remark, as Maurice handed us to our carriage. But I wondered at Madame Prenat. We drove home in silence. She did not ask my opinion as to what she had done, and I did not care to speak of what had passed between my cousin and myself.

Indeed, the recollection of it all was not wholly satisfactory to my self-esteem. Had I, in attempting to defend my adored Monsieur Felix, merely showed myself a scold and an uncharitable person ? Something very like that had been implied in Maurice's words. I was not satisfied with anything. I thought he looked ready to come whenever he was invited ; and I was glad, very glad that my time was so filled up as not to leave much leisure for the entertaining of idle young gentlemen — in such a light did I choose to regard him. As a matter of fact, I did not know whether he was idle or not — why he lived in London, whether he was going in for any profession — in short, I knew nothing of him and, with childish prejudice, wished I had never seen him or any one belonging to him.

Chapter IV

" WE SHOULD NOT ALLOW IT." Maurice came to dine with us ; and soon one part of my speculation was fulfilled. He very seldom failed to accept any in vitation which Madame Prenat might choose to extend to him. And she chose to do so pretty often. He became a regular guest at the house, and under the influence and questions of Madame, milder and more genial than mine, he related to us all his affairs. I soon found that my first contemptuous ideas as to his idleness was quite unfounded. He was studying, and studying hard, for the bar. He said he had not the slightest desire for the position of a country gentleman, merely as a country gentleman, though it might be an excellent and a pleasant thing to have that position in addition to something else. The life would be too dull for him. He felt within him powers for something far more attractive and, to his mind, higher, and he meant to make his mark in the legal world.

Sometimes he looked tired and fagged when he came, and, on such occasions, Madame Prenat received him with motherly kindness, which evidently gratified him extremely. " Your house is my earthly paradise," he would tell her. " Such an oasis of calm and peace, in the midst of the London desert of vanity and vexation ; and yet not cut off from anything that is good." " I am glad you find it so. Come often. I shall be glad to see you." She did not say " We shall be glad to see you " ; and indeed she seemed to look upon him almost more as her friend than as mine. As for me, at first I felt his presence a disturbance and a bore. I felt obliged to give up any employment in which I might be engaged and devote myself to his entertainment, not with a very good grace, it is true, but still to do so. I rebelled against this, and wished more ardently than ever that we had never met.

I do not know whether it was with more pleasure than pique — there was certainly something of each sensation present — that I by-and-by discovered that it was wholly unnecessary for me to sacrifice myself thus. Maurice made very small demand upon my time and attention. Often, he hardly seemed to notice me, but would talk the whole evening to Madame Prenat, without asking me a question or seeming to expect me to contribute any remarks to the con versation. It was perhaps quite natural that at first I should feel slightly offended at this change in his demeanour, after his emphatic protestations at Mrs. Farquhar son's. But that soon wore off. It was no laughing matter to me, the possibility of any serious claim being made for me by my relations. To belong to them, in any way, meant to me misery.

To remain where I was, for the present, to be always more or less bound up in Felix and in some way connected with him — let that connection be never so distant, never so far off — this meant happiness to me, and I was soon glad enough to perceive Maurice's apparent indifference. If he was annoyed by my coldness or disgusted by my raw intolerance, so much the better, I told myself, and I gradually withdrew myself even more and more into the background, leaving him to entertain himself or to be entertained by Madame Prenat. It is true that every now and then I saw some slight sign, caught some look, heard some word, on his part which aroused my uneasiness again. I was not altogether tranquil. It was sometimes borne in upon my mind that for all his quietness and seeming in difference it was me whom he came to see, and not Madame Prenat, and that his present demeanour might be but a blind.

But I thought of this as little as possible. I put it away from me. When I found him in the drawing-room, I made no ado about taking up my needlework, or even, if I were pressed for time or deeply interested, in continuing my pre parations for the morrow's reading, or lesson, or lecture. It was on one of these occasions that I first began to feel seriously disturbed and to realize that Maurice did not view me and my affairs with the indifference I had hoped for. " You will excuse me," I said, going into the room, with a book and a note-book in my hand, " I have a difficult bit of Parsi here to unravel. I don't suppose I can do it myself, but the Professor will be very much disappointed to-morrow if he finds that I have not, at any rate, tried to master it." " Pray don't mention it, I will also take a book," he adjured me politely ; and I withdrew myself into a corner in which stood a sofa and a little table.

I lighted a candle, for it was winter — January, and very dark, cold, and bleak — and I was soon honestly absorbed in my work. It was a passage of verse from a Parsi poet ; not long, but involved and difficult. I had been told to take it home and (with a sardonic smile) try if I could make any thing of it. If I could, it would be more than most of them had succeeded in doing. I was on fire to make something — some thing that should at least approximate to sense — out of the obstinate, knotty thing. But it baffled me, time after time. When the first part produced sense, the second became nonsense, and vice versa. Puzzled, vexed, and disappointed, I frowned, heaved a deep sigh, and looked up, having for gotten for the moment that I was not absolutely alone. My eyes encountered those of Maurice, fixed intently upon me with an earnest, seeking, far from in different gaze.

His book lay half-closed upon his knee, the long slim singers of one hand keeping the place, while his cheek rested on his other hand. A thrill of startled, suspicious feeling shot through me, a sense of resentment at his thus vol. hi. observing me. I sat with my eyes fixed upon him, and his own countenance changing, he said quickly — " You seem very much puzzled ; I wish I could help you." " Thank you," I replied coldly. " No one but my master can help me with this." " The learned doctor, do you mean ? He will help you, and make it straight for you, and you will say Thank you." " Probably he will put me into the way of helping myself," I corrected him loftily. " He is not too lavish with his information. What is easily gained, he says, is easily lost." " Well, he is right, I suppose, in a way.