May and December: a tale of wedded life

Chapter I

Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon us ; without the which this story Were most impertinent. SHAKESPEARE. Business was over for the day, and the numerous clerks of Mr. Cameron's establishment were preparing to leave the office. They stretched and yawned as they rose from their several desks, as those do who throw off by an effort the fatigue of long application, or the weariness of oppressive thoughts. There was VOL. I. B a little buzz of conversation going on, and jokes and occasional laughter, although the presence of the principal clerk usually repressed such exhibitions of hdarity. " You must come to us to-morrow night, Dunsford," said an elderly man, to a junior, who had all day been working by his side, " it is Grace's birthday, and we are going to be very gay, and keep her coming of age with great festivity.

You wdl join us, I know." " Gladly, Sir, since you are so kind ; and if Miss Ashton wishes it too," replied the hand some young man he addressed, colouring with pleasure, or some other feeling, as he spoke the last words. " I wish you would ask me too, Ashton," said a voice close behind them, which made them both start, and turn round. It was Mr. Cameron himself, who having entered the office to speak to his head clerk, had caught the sound of the invitation. Ashton professed, with a mixture of pride and gratitude, how much he should be flattered if Mr. Cameron would honour his little party with his presence. He was sure it would be welcome news to Grace. " No, don't tell her," replied the merchant ; " I shad come and take her by surprise, to see what sort of a housekeeper she contrives to make ; I've a notion that she is a good girl, and manages very well in that way ; and some day she wdl make somebody very happy as a wife."

There was nothing very extraordinary in such a remark ; it was true, but common-place, and the less surprising as Mr. Cameron was godfather to Grace Ashton, and had always taken a good deal of notice of her ; yet these few words made the two individuals who over heard them very uncomfortable. One of these was Harry Dunsford himself; he was to be sure very much in love with the object of Mr. Cameron's eulogium, and lovers have a prescriptive right to torment themselves about trifles, and indulge in gratuitous and supernumerary fears. It would, indeed, be a very comfortable thing for the rest of the world if these individuals were the only ones who subjected themselves to such wilful tortures ; and, as these torments are supposed to form half the delight of love, it would be a pity if lovers should not be able to have their share ; b whdst, in all other cases, similar mistrusts pro duce an unnecessary but positive amount of unhappiness.

What it was that annoyed Harry would be difficult exactly to define ; a mixture of jealousy and mortification, a fear lest the merchant's praise should so far enhance the father's opinion of the daughter's value, as to make him seek a higher match ; and a suspicion that Mr. Cameron himself would not be pleased with his pretensions, when they became known ; these were the most obvious and rational of his feel ings. It was no recent passion on his part, this affection for Grace Ashton ; he had fallen in love with her ten years ago, when he first came up to London. Harry was an orphan, and the uncle who had superintended his education, that is to say, had chosen his school, and managed his little fortune, had never afforded him a congenial home in his house. At fifteen, he had been placed in Mr. Cameron's counting-house, and left to shift for himself in this situation, forlorn and dangerous as such a life must be to the young and inexperienced, without a friend to speak to, or a home to receive them in ther leisure hours.

But Harry was of a cheerful temper, and of steady principles ; somehow, in his early troubles, he had acquired a degree of firmness, self-reliance, and hopefulness which supported him wonderfully ; and he soon won the affections of Mr. Ashton, who first pitied, then admired, and finaUy loved the boy ; they were engaged in the same department, and Harry was ere long invited to make Ashton's house his home, if he pleased ; and he was able once more to enjoy domestic pleasures, and a family circle, such as his memory still presented to him as his, before the terrible fever had carried off his parents and his two little sisters. Of course he had faUen in love with Grace Ashton ; he had called her his sister, and she had allowed him to treat her as such for some years, but gradually these things changed ; Grace grew into a woman, and a degree of embarrassment, of consciousness, of painful pleasure, and of pleasing pain mixed with their intercourse, and silently superseded the old frank and fraternal manners which had been so natural.

Harry's lodgings were not very far from Mr. Ashton's house, and thither they took their way together, on quitting the counting-house, both silent and pre-occupied ; the younger, of course, by his love-affairs, the elder less sentimentady engrossed by certain foreign correspondence. Leaving them on their way home, I shad return to the counting-house, from the door of which was slowly issuing a man of striking appearance, good-looking, or perhaps actually handsome, except for a downcast look in his black eyes, and a sinister curl to the corners of his mouth, which gave a passing expression of subtdty to his features, almost repulsive. This was James Wddey, the confidential clerk, and friend of the wealthy merchant. He, too, was meditating on the praise of Grace Ashton which had reached his ears.

To him it was as un welcome as to Harry Dunsford, though for very different reasons. He was no rival to the young man, and yet to him, too, the idea occurred, ridiculous as it seemed, that the merchant was thinking of Grace as a wife for him self. Mr. Cameron was nearly sixty, and Grace Ashton only twenty-one; Mr. Cameron had been a widower about eight months, and had never indicated in any way, either by word or deed, the slightest intention of marrying again ; and yet his manner of speaking of Grace filled Wddey's mind with almost as much of jealous fear as it did the young lover himself. The fact was, Wddey had dreams of his own, plans for his own advancement, budt up on the recent widowhood of the merchant, plans which were to make his own fortune with rapidity, and to place him in a situation which, with regard to influence, would be equal, if not superior, to that of Mr. Cameron.

As he walked slowly down to his small house, where his sister superintended his do mestic arrangements, he was reviewing these schemes, and his thoughts were to this effect : " What a stupid thing it is of my sister to be so plain and sidy ! With half my good looks," and here he glanced at a large shop window, which reflected back his person and features, " with half my good looks, and only a quarter of my sense, she might have been sure of the prize ; I have given her opportunity enough, I am sure, but it is aU to no purpose she never will be Mrs. Cameron : so pro voking ! and I am certain a little flattery, a little adroit sympathy, would soon bring him into any one's power. I wish I knew what sort of girl May Luttrell is — whether she is clever and good-looking; she ought to be, if she takes after her mother's famdy at ad — but one cannot tell.

However, nothing venture, nothing have ; I will hazard the invitation, and it's odds but I can turn it to some good account or other. Ann shall write to her by to-morrow's post, and I will have her in Lon don on this speculation. I suppose I can manage any young country-girl, and when I am quite sure of the turn of her mind, I wdl see about making up this match. If I do not make myself master of old Cameron's influence, and partner of his wealth, my name is not James Wildey, and I'm an idiot — that's aU!" The ensuing morning, Grace Ashton was quite surprised and puzzled that her father should evince such extraordinary anxiety rela tive to their little party in the evening. In general, he troubled himself slightly about such things, trusting everything to her discretion. She never remembered his stopping over his muffin and coffee to express his desire that Jane's frock should set tidily on the shoulders, and her hair be nicely smoothed ; that Robert should be steady, and not play any tricks ; that George and Julia should not meddle with the supper beforehand, or eat too much of it when they sat down at last ; and, especially, that little Sarah should not cry when spoken to, or run and bury her head under the sofa-pillows.

Grace promised to do her best on the occa sion ; suggested that they were usually toler ably discreet when they had company ; and, after a moment's consideration, added, that if he was particular, perhaps Sarah had better be put to bed first, as she was shy, and might be frightened. To this proposal, however, her father would not consent, to the great joy of Grace, who dearly loved her little sisters, and would not have deprived them of any pleasure on her own account for the world. So she cheerfully undertook that ad should go wed ; and helping her father to brush his coat and hat, and giving him the fareweU kiss, she saw him depart, and herself returned to her household duties. But whilst superintending the small details of their projected feast, assisting in the con fectionery, or overlooking the preparations for her sister's todette, she could not keep her B mind from wandering to the subject, and trying to guess why her father attached such unusual importance to these little concerns.

Whose opinion she most valued, and in whose eyes she most wished to looked well, she knew beyond all question ; there was but one of the expected guests, to tell the truth, of whose taste she thought very highly ; but she did not quite suppose that her father was so desirous of pleasing him, or indeed was likely to think of him at ad. " Gracey, dear," cried her eldest brother, running into the room where she was busy, " what's all this fuss about ; what have you been saying to my father to make him come and lecture me about behaviour. You need not trouble yourself, I can tell you, if it's Harry Dunsford you are thinking of : I am not going to do him any harm. But I say, I don't like to be lectured, and if you do so again, I will either do or say something about — eh, Grace ?" " I've not been saying anything about you, Bob ; my father has been talking to me in the same way.

He is a little particular, but I do not know why ; only I am sure you will try to please him. And don't get nonsensical ideas in your head." She paused, colouring. " Nonsensical ideas ! I deny the imputation : my head concentrates two-thirds of the sense of the family, Miss Grace. I should like you to convict me of a nonsensical idea, that's all. Is it one to think that Harry Dunsford is glad to come here this evening ?" " Yes, very, Bob, because you know he can come when he likes." " Oh, very wed, I shall tell him you say his coming here is a nonsensical idea — see if I don't. And in my humble opinion, your liking him so much is a very nonsensical idea. Do you suppose he cares for you ?" " I don't suppose anything about it ; and I do not see why you should say I like him so much : I am sure I never said so."

" No, no ; girls always make a monstrous mystery about their likings and dislikings — they are never open and candid. Now I declare, Harry is a regular brick, but I dare say you would be ashamed to agree with me." " I certainly should not apply such an epithet to one who is no more like a brick than a stone, Bob. Perhaps you could define in what respect he resembles a solid lump of burnt clay ?" "Call it parallelopipedon, Grace; that's its scientific term. I like to hear things called by their right names." " Oh, very wed, a young man is a brick ; a brick is a parallelopipedon. Is that right now, Bob ?" He laughed and nodded. " Now, Bob, it's time you were off," added Grace, looking at the clock. " Ah ! that office, Grace ! It's desperate hard work, day after day. Don't I wish I was Mr. Cameron now, with my fortune ready made.

Why they say he is worth a couple of plums at least. How I should like it !" " But, Bob, would you like to be sixty, a plain elderly widower, without children, or any one to care for you. Would you give up all your hopes of being a handsome young man some day, and all the advantages of your lessons in the polka ?" " Ay, that's a consideration, my most sagacious sister ; but then Mr. Cameron may marry again. I suppose you would not object to be his wife, eh, Grace ?" " Oh, no, of course ; you can tell him I shall be proud and happy," said she, laughing, and gently pushing him to the door. " And you are so old too, Grace," pursued he, " so very old — twenty-one to-day — that is so nearly sixty — quite on a level : a most suit able match. How well it wdl look in the papers ! We wdl get Harry Dunsford to draw out the paragraph."

" There— go, go !" " It shad run like this : ' After a short but severe courtship' — there would not be time for a long one — ' the wealthy and deeply-in-love Mr. Cameron, to the beautiful and sweetly affectionate Miss Ashton.' For really I don't see why people should not let the world know how fond they are of one another when they marry as when they die, do you ?" He ran off, laughing at his own idea, and left Grace to finish her business in peace. The day passed quickly enough to Grace Ashton, and the hour arrived for the res pective visitors. The candles were lighted, the drawing-room decked in company aspect, the sisters ad dressed, and everything promising well for the evening. Mr. Ashton lived in one of those large, old-fashioned, but comfortable houses in the neighbourhood of Queen Square — houses built for the nobdity, but which the changes of fashion, and the migration of the rich westward have now sentenced to shelter less opulent tenants.

In the large and handsome, though old-fashioned drawing-room, the cheerful party was assembled, and the first token which the knocker sent through the house of approaching guests was familiar to all the family. " There's Harry !" was the exclamation of all except Grace herself, for he was a very great favourite with the junior members of the family, and he had not been five minutes in the room, before Sarah was on his knee, George whispering into one ear, and Julia confiding important secrets on the other side. He sat a little behind, his attention claimed by the three little ones hanging round him, but his eyes following Grace as she moved about, and gave a smiling welcome to her quickly-arriving visitors. These were mostly young people of ad ages between twelve and twenty-five, and when all as sembled, they formed a merry group, with plenty of smiles and good-humour, and a very fair sprinkling of beauty among them.

Dancing, of course, was to be the pursuit of the evening — the only occupation which could afford content and amusement to such a party ; and Grace, seating herself at the piano, began a fascinating polka, which soon set eight or ten young couples in rapid motion, and produced unmingled satisfaction to ad except Harry Duns ford, who would have been shocked at finding pleasure in dancing with any one but the fair musician herself, and looked on himself as a perfect martyr to friendship, when he adowed Jane to introduce him to another partner. Nor was his satisfaction much increased when five minutes after, Grace was relieved from her self imposed task by the good-natured intervention of a kind middle-aged lady, who, volunteering her services at the instrument, allowed Grace herself to join the dancers, which she did, taking for a partner a little girl, who was sitting disengaged in a corner.

She and Harry came pretty near together in the pauses incidental to a prolonged polka, and Grace could not help observing that his partner seemed determined to make herself agreeable to Mr. Dunsford, and, judging from her smiles and liveliness, found no drawback in him. Now, thouo-h Grace was one of the most good-natured girls in the world, and in general was as ready to please a little girl as a young man, and desirous that all her guests should be happy in their own way, I do not mean to assert that she possessed such sublime philosophy as to enjoy dancing with little Janet Feltham quite as much as she would have done having Harry for a partner ; nor with ad her generous unselfishness could she be desirous that he should find Miss Maria Bookham quite as agreeable as herself. Con scious of these feelings, and half-fearful of betraying them, the next time they paused, she took care that it should be at a con siderable distance from the corner where Harry and the young lady were smiling and whis pering ; and her firm resolution not to watch them was suddenly assisted by the interruption which her thoughts received from another quarter.

A tap on the shoulder made her turn round, expecting to see her father behind her, and she was a little startled on discovering, instead of him, Mr. Cameron, whom she had not in the least anticipated. She was, however, very glad to see him, and it instantly occurred to her that it was on his account her father had been so precise in his directions as to order and propriety, a simple and natural reason for his conduct, which at once destroyed sundry vague and fanciful solutions which had been floating in her mind since the morning. " So, my little Grace," said the merchant, " this is the way in which I find you employed. I understood from your father you were come to years of discretion, and intended to be perfectly sober and steady from this time forth, and here I find you whirling away like a water wheel, at a pace which would rival an express train.

I wonder how such delicate creatures, who look no stronger than their white muslin gowns, can stand the wear and tear of such tremendous exertion." " Did you never dance, formerly, Sir ?" said Grace, smiling. " Saucy girl, you mean to remind me that I am too old to be a judge of such matters." " Oh, no, indeed, dear Sir, but I dare say you liked dancing once as wed as we do." " I ted you what Grace, when I was a young man, I should have been much too gallant to leave a pretty young woman like you without a partner. What! have none of these young men eyes in their heads or taste in their hearts, that you should be obliged to stand up with a little girl like that !" " Oh, Janet and I do very well together, Sir," replied Grace. " That we do !" cried little Janet, who was not yet old enough for vanity to supersede affection.

" Gracey is so kind and good-natured ; my brother wanted to take her from me, but she would not change." " And if I were as young as your brother, I should propose an exchange again," replied the merchant, " but I know nothing of your modern polkas and waltzes. So, as I cannot offer you my hand, Grace, just lend me yours for a moment, to put this round it instead," and he held out as he spoke a very elegant gold bracelet. " Let me clasp it round your pretty arm, my dear," continued he, as she extended her hand towards him with a warm expression of thanks for his kindness, and admiration of his gift. He tried to fasten it, but ineffectually, bung ling over the snap in his attempts, until he let it drop through his fingers. Janet picked it up, and restored it to him. " Confound these new-fangled clasps, there is no understanding these gew-gaws !" ex claimed the merchant impatiently ; " do it your self, little one, and let us see how it looks on Grace's arm."

" Beautiful !" said little Janet, as she obeyed him, " oh, Grace, what a lucky girl you are !" " Yes," said Grace, as she respectfudy and affectionately put Mr. Cameron's hand to her lips, " I am lucky in having so kind a friend as my godfather to remember me. It is very good of you, Sir." " Not a bit, not a bit," said he, " your father has served me faithfully longer than you have lived, my chdd, and I trust you may prove yourself a worthy daughter of so good a father. That is the best wish I can make for you." " Thank you most heartily, Sir, for those kind words," replied she, with glistening eyes. " As a token of esteem for my father, your present is indeed valuable." " And Grace, my dear, remember one thing : if ever you have a favour to ask of me, just show me the bracelet, and I pledge myself to do anything in my power for your advantage.

So there, now you may go on dancing again." There was one standing near at this moment, who overheard every word that passed, and whose dark brow grew darker as he did so. James Wildey had accepted an invitation to this party, when he learned that Mr. Cameron was to be there also, and he now was watching intently the effect produced on Grace by the merchant's kindness. A very slight acquaintance with her would have convinced him of the absurdity of his suspicions, but she had hitherto never attracted his attention in the smadest degree ; his sister knew her, it was true, but Ann Wddey had not much more discern ment than the chair she sat on, and to ask her what was Grace's character, or what was likely to be her conduct, would, he knew, be perfectly useless. Since, however, it had become an object of importance to understand her thoughts and wishes, he resolved to exert himself at once for that purpose ; and accordingly, he seized the very first opportunity of asking her to dance himself.

Grace, who had been hoping for a very dif ferent partner, coloured ajlittle at this unwished for request; but there was no alternative for her, and she submitted with as good a grace as she could assume, to become his partner in a quadrille. She knew him too little personally, and too wed from Harry's descriptions to feel any pleasure in conversing with him, so she mentady resolved that theirs should be a silent dance ; such, was not, however, his intention. Fixing his piercing black eyes on her, he began : " Is not Mr. Cameron an exceUent man, Miss Ashton ?" She assented, but quietly, and with much less warmth than she felt. " I suppose, I ought to ted you that I heard what passed between you and him just now," continued Wddey ; " you, Miss Ashton, I presume, regard him quite as a second father."

" As a very kind friend of my own father, certainly," answered she, " but I have no claim on him which can entitle me to speak of him as more." " He is very young-looking for his age," observed the gentleman. " Yes, remarkably so !" " He is also very sociable and domestic in his tastes," pursued he. Grace gave a quiet assent. " And he feels his loneliness as a widower extremely !" This time she was silent. "So much so, that I fully expect he wdl marry again some day." " Marry again !" echoed Grace in a tone of extreme surprise. " Yes, why not, do you not think it likely ? did you never consider how much he needs a wife?" " I never thought about it." "But now reflect for a moment, and I am sure you wdl agree with me." " Really, it is no concern of mine," said Grace, somewhat tartly, " so I do not see why I should reflect about it."

" I should have thought you would not have been so indifferent to the comfort of one for whom you profess such a regard." "I hope I am not indifferent to Mr. Ca meron's comfort," returned she, averting her face from the malicious look of her partner's unpleasant eyes. " If my thinking could make Mr. Cameron comfortable, I would not mind setting to work about it; but I have no influence over his destiny, and nothing to do with his matrimonal projects. I don't know amongst ad my acquaintance one lady suitable in age and disposition ; for, of course, she ought to be forty at the very least, and have all the amiable qualities which one human being can unite." " Perhaps he had better not marry a girl," said Mr. Wddey. " Oh, certainly not, such marriages cannot turn out wed." Just at this moment, Harry interrupted the conversation with a hurried request for the honour of Miss Ashton's hand in a polka, and Grace gave a blushing conscious assent, which, together with her last words, put James Wildey in some degree au fait to her real feelings.

" No fear there," muttered he, as the young couple walked away ; " they have been watching each other all through the quadrdle, too. I suppose they are engaged, or something like it." He was very nearly right; Harry took this opportunity to explain himself, and his wishes, and Grace, when it was all over, decided that her twenty-first birthday had been the happiest of her life. For much of this happiness she was indebted to her kind godfather; he it was, who, by advancing Harry's salary, had improved his prospects, and, on being consulted by Mr. Ashton on the prudence of the engagement, had sanctioned it by his entire consent and approbation, given in a tone which implied a promise to assist the young couple if they required his patronage. She, in return, heartily wished that he had a more cheerful home, a family circle to make him as happy as her own father looked when surrounded by his children.

Such wishes she supposed must be vain, however, as in her mind, Mr. Cameron was much too old to marry again, and she had thought it unfeeling in his clerk to adude to the topic. Mr. Cameron was a very wealthy merchant, he had been a prosperous man in his worldly concerns all his life. Succeeding early to a large mercantde establishment, he had been unwearied in his application to business, and steady in his course of conduct. His counting house was his happiest retreat ; his books were his favourite study, and his hours of business were to him hours of pleasure. Simple and old-fashioned in his habits, he had few personal expenses, so that he continued to grow richer every year, although his name was wed-known in ad benevolent schemes, and his purse was open to most private applicants. Whether he would have been equally devoted to his affairs, had his attention been diverted by the claims of a family cannot be known, for he had no child to inherit his wealth, or to spend it for him, and though he had married early, most people, except himself, seemed to forget the existence of his wife whdst it lasted, and he was now a widower.

Mrs. Cameron, indeed, never did anything to make herself remembered beyond the quiet drawing-room, where, on a sofa, she passed her sleepy life. Captivated by her fair com plexion, and her quiet manner of listening to him, Mr. Cameron had given her credit for ad necessary good qualities, and after a short courtship had married her. Before a month had passed he discovered his mistake ; her quietness was the result of indolence ; she was silent, because from ignorance and vanity she had nothing to say ; she accepted him because she wished to be married ; not from any dreams of domestic felicity, but because she was weary VOL. I. C of a home where she was worried by an active, managing mother. In short, he had made a mistake, and one for which there seemed little remedy. Dis couraging, however, as was the prospect before him, with the good sense of a man who has learnt to profit by failure or success, Mr. Cameron resolved to make the best of circumstances, and since his wife as she was did not quite suit his tastes, to try and improve her became his object.