The Light of Scarthey: A Romance

But Sir Adrian had started up again – "Molly crying, Molly crying for me – God help us all – Cécile's child, whom I would give my life to keep from trouble! Tanty, if this is true – it must be true since you say so, I hardly know myself what I am saying – then I am to blame, deeply to blame – and yet – I have not said one word to the child – did nothing…" here he paused and a deep flush overspread his face to the roots of his hair; "except indeed in the first moment of her arrival – when she came in upon me as I was lost in memories of the past – like the spirit of Cécile."

"Humph," said Tanty, pointedly, "but then you see what you took for Cécile's spirit happened to be Molly in the flesh." She fixed her sharp eyes upon her nephew, who, struck into confusion by her words, seemed for the moment unable to answer. Then, as if satisfied with the impression produced, she folded her hands over the umbrella handle and observed in more placid tones than she had yet used:

"And now we must see what is to be done."

Adrian began to pace the room in greater perturbation.

"What is to be done?" he repeated, "alas! what can be done? Tanty, you will believe me when I tell you that I should have cut off my right hand rather than brought this thing upon the child – but she is very young – the impression, thank heaven, cannot in the nature of things endure. She will meet some one worthy of her – with you, Tanty, kindest of hearts, I can safely trust her future. But that she should suffer now, and through me, that bright creature who flitted in upon my dark life, like some heaven-sent messenger – these are evil tidings. Tanty, you must take her away, you must distract her mind, you must tell her what a poor broken-down being I am, how little worthy of her sweet thoughts, and she will learn, soon learn, to forget me, to laugh at herself."

Although addressing the old lady, he spoke like a man reasoning with himself, and the words dropped from his lips as if drawn from a very well of bitterness. Tanty listened to him in silence, but the tension of her whole frame betrayed that she was only gathering her forces for another explosion.

When Adrian's voice ceased there was a moment's silence and then the storm burst; whisking herself out of her chair, the umbrella came into play once more. But though it was only to thump the table, it was evident Miss O'Donoghue would more willingly have laid it about the delinquent's shoulders.

"Adrian, are you a man at all?" she ejaculated fiercely. Then with sudden deadly composure: "So this is the reparation you propose to make for the mischief you have wrought?"

"In God's name!" cried he, goaded at length into some sort of despairing anger himself, "what would you have me do?"

The answer came with the promptitude of a return shot:

"Do? why marry her, of course!"

"Marry her!"

There was a breathless pause. Tanty, leaning forward across the table, crimson, agitated, yet triumphant; Adrian's white face blasted with astonishment. "Marry her," he echoed at length once more, in a whisper this time. Then with a groan: "This is madness!"

Miss O'Donoghue caught him up briskly. "Madness? My good fellow, not a bit of it; on the contrary, sanity, happiness, prosperity. – Adrian, don't stand staring at me like a stuck pig! Why, in the name of conscience, should not you marry? You are a young man still – pooh, pooh, what is forty! – you are a very fine-looking man, clever, romantic – hear me out, sir, please —and you have made the child love you. There you are again, as if you had a pain in your stomach; you would try the patience of Job! Why, I don't believe there is another man on earth that would not be wild with joy at the mere thought of having gained such a prize. A beautiful creature, with a heart of gold and a purse of gold to boot."

"Oh, heavens, aunt!" interrupted the man, passionately, "leave that question out of the reckoning. The one thing, the only thing, to consider is her happiness. You cannot make me believe it can be for her happiness that she should marry such as me."

"And why shouldn't it be for her happiness?" answered the dauntless old lady. "Was not she happy enough with you here in this God-forsaken hole, with nothing but the tempest besides for company? Why should not she be happy, then, when you come back to your own good place? Would not you be kind to her? – would not you cherish her if she were your wife?"

"Would I not be kind to her? – would I not cherish her? – would I not – ? My God!"

"Why, Adrian," cried Tanty, charmed at this unexpected disclosure of feeling and the accent with which it was delivered, "I declare you are as much in love with the girl as she is with you. Why, now you shall just come back with me to Pulwick this moment, and she shall tell you herself if she can find happiness with you or not. Oh – I will hear no more – your own heart, your feelings as a gentleman, as a man of honour, all point, my dear nephew, in the same direction. And if you neglect this warning voice you will be blind indeed to the call of duty. Come now, come back to your home, where the sweetest wife ever a man had awaits you. And when I shall see the children spring up around you, Adrian, then God will have granted my last wish, and I shall die in peace… There, there, I am an old fool, but when the heart is over full, then the tears fall. Come, Adrian, come, I'll say no more; but the sight of the poor child who loves you shall plead for her happiness and yours. And hark, a word in your ear: let Rupert bark and snarl as he will! And what sort of a devil is it your generosity has made of him? You have done a bad day's work there all these years, but, please God, there are better times dawning for us all. – What are you doing, Adrian? Oh! writing a few orders to your servant to explain your departure with me – quite right, quite right, I won't speak a word then to interrupt you. Dear me! I really feel quite in spirits. Once dear Molly and you settled, there will be a happy home for Madeleine: with you, we can look out a suitable husband for her. Well, well, I must not go too fast yet, I suppose: but I have not told you in what deep anxiety I have been on her account by reason of a most deplorable affair – a foolish girl's fancy only, of course, with a most undesirable and objectionable creature called Smith… Oh! you are ready, are you? – My dear Adrian, give me your arm then, and let us proceed."

Silence had reigned for but a few seconds in the great room of the keep when Captain Jack re-entered, bearing on his face an expression at once boyishly jubilant and mockingly astonished. He planted himself in front of the landward window, and gazed forth a while.

"There goes my old Adrian, as dutifully escorting that walking sack of bones, that tar-barrel ornament – never mind, old lady, from this moment I shall love you for your brave deeds of this morning – escorting his worthy aunt as dutifully as though he were a penniless nephew… Gently over the gunnel, madam! That's done! So you are going to take my gig? Right, Adrian. Dear me, how she holds forth! I fancy I hear her from here. – Give way, my lads! That's all right. Gad! Old Adrian's carried off on a regular journey to Cythera, under a proper escort!"

With this odd reminiscence of early mythological reading, the sailor burst into a loud laugh and walked about slapping his leg.

"Would ever any one have guessed anything approaching this? Star-gazing, book-grubbing Sir Adrian … in love! Adrian the solitary, the pessimist, the I-don't-know-what superior man, in love! Neither more nor less! In love, like an every-day inhabitant of these realms, and with that black-eyed sister of mine that is to be! My word, it's too perfect! Adrian my brother-in-law – for if I gauge that fine creature properly – splendid old lady – she won't let him slide back this time. No, my dear Adrian, you are hooked for matrimony and a return to the living world. That black-eyed jade too, that Molly sister of my Madeleine, will wake up and lead you a life, by George!.. Row on, my lads," once more looking at the diminishing black spot upon the grey waters. "Row on – you have never done a better day's work!"

René, entering a few moments later, with an open note in his hand, found his master's friend still chuckling, and looked at him inquisitively.

"His honour has returned to Pulwick," said he, in puzzled tones, handing the missive.

"Ay, lad," answered the sailor, cheerily. "The fact is, my good Renny, that in that room of Sir Adrian's where you ensconced me for safety from that most wonderful specimen of her sex (I refer to your master's worthy aunt), it was impossible to avoid overhearing many of her remarks – magnificent voice for a storm at sea, eh? Never mind what it was all about, my good man; what I heard was good news. Ah!" directing his attention to the note; "his honour does not say when he will return, but will send back the gig immediately; and you, M. Potter, are to look after me for as long as I choose to stop here."

René required no reflection to realise that anything in the shape of good news which took his master back to his estate must be good news indeed; and his broad face promptly mirrored, in the broadest of grins, the captain's own satisfaction.

"For sure, we will try to take care of M. the captain, as well as if his honour himself was present. He told me you were to be master here."

"Make it so. I should like some dinner as soon as possible, and one of my bro – of Sir Adrian's best bottles. It's a poor heart that never rejoices. Meanwhile, I want to inspect your ruins and your caves in detail, if you will pilot me, Renny. This is a handy sort of an old Robinson Crusoe place for hiding and storing, is it not?"

CHAPTER XIX

A JUNIOR'S OPINION

A rarely failing characteristic of very warm-hearted and strongly impulsive people is their inability of graduating their likes and dislikes; a state of mind which cannot fail to lead to frequent alterations of temper.

On more than one occasion, since the domineering old lady had started upon her peregrinations, had her favour for the two brothers undergone reversal; but the ground Rupert gained by Adrian's offences was never of safe tenure. At the present hour, under the elation of her victorious sally upon the hermit's pessimistic entrenchments – the only thing in him of which she disapproved – he at once resumed the warm place she liked to keep for him in her heart. And as a consequence "Master Rupert," as she contemptuously called the "locum tenens Squire," who, in the genealogical order of things, should have been a person of small importance, fell promptly into his original state of disgrace.

During the drive from the village (where she had ordered the carriage to await her return) to the gates of Pulwick, Miss O'Donoghue entertained her companion with an indignant account of his brother's ingratitude, of his hypocritical insinuating method of disparagement of Sir Adrian himself, winding up each indictment with a shrewd, "but he could not impose upon me," which, indeed, she firmly believed.

Her object was, of course, to strengthen the baronet in his resolve to return to the headship of his family – little guessing what a strong incentive to seclusion these very tales of a state of things he suspected but too well would have proved, had it not been for the new unforeseen motive that the morning's revelation had brought.

"Does Molly know of your visit to me?" he asked, as the carriage halted before the gate, and the enormous, red-headed Cumbrian gatekeeper with his rosy Moggie, proudly swung it open to stand on either side, the one bowing with jubilant greeting and the other curtseying with bashful smiles at the real master. "Does she expect my visit?" relapsing into gravity after returning the salutation in kindliness.

"I have told no one of my purpose this day. Rupert walked off to the stables immediately after breakfast – going a-hunting he said he was, and offered to bear the girls to the meet. And then, feeling lonely without his company," added Tanty, with a wink, "I ordered the carriage and thought I would go and have a peep at the place where poor Molly was drowned, just for a little diversion. Whether the little rogue expects you or not, after your note of the other day, I am sure I could not take upon myself to say. She sits watching that crazy old tower of yours by day and your light by night. Well, well, I must not tell tales out of school, you may find out for yourself. But mind you, Adrian," she impressed on him, sagely, "it is not I who bring you back: you return of your own accord. The child would murder me, if she knew – with that proud heart of hers."

"My dear Tanty, trust me. This incomprehensible discovery of yours, which I cannot yet believe in, really is, so far as my discretion is concerned, as if I had never heard of it. Heavens! I have been a blundering fool, but I could not insult her with a hint of it for the world. I have come to see Rupert to-day, as usual, of course – and, as you say … I shall see for myself. You have opened my eyes."

Miss O'Donoghue looked at her nephew with admiration. "Voyez un peu," she said, "comme l'amour vous dégourdit even a doleful Sir Adrian! Faith, here we are. This has been a pleasant ride, but my old bones are so tired, and you and yours have set them jogging so much of late, that I think I'll never want to stir a foot again once I get back to Bunratty … except indeed to come and be godmother to the heir."

Having lent a dutiful arm up the stairs to his now beaming relative, Sir Adrian came down pensively and entered the library.

There, booted and spurred, but quietly installed at a writing table, sat Mr. Landale, who rose in his nonchalant manner and with cold looks met his brother.

There was no greeting between them, but simply thus:

"I understood from Aunt Rose you were out hunting."

"Such was my intention, but when I found out that she had gone to see you – don't look so astonished, Adrian – a man must know what is going on in his household – I suspected you would escort her back; so I desisted and waited for you. It is an unexpected pleasure to see you, for I thought we had sufficiently discussed all business, recently. But doubtless you will profit of the opportunity to go into a few matters which want your attention. Do you mean to remain?"

Speaking these words in a detached manner, Mr. Landale kept a keenly observant look upon his brother's countenance. In a most unwonted way the tone and the look irritated Sir Adrian.

"I came back, Rupert, because there were some things I wished to see for myself here," he answered frigidly. And going to the bell, rang it vigorously.

On the servant's appearance, without reference to his brother, he himself, and very shortly, gave orders:

"I shall dine here to-day. Have the tapestry-room made ready for me."

Then turning to Rupert, whose face betrayed some of the astonishment aroused by this most unusual assumption of authority, and resuming as it were the thread of his speech, he went on:

"No, Rupert, I have no desire to talk business with you. It is a pity you should have given up your day. Is it yet too late?"

"Upon my word, Adrian," said Mr. Landale, clenching his hand nervously round his fine cambric handkerchief, "there must be something of importance in the wind to have altered your bearing towards me to this extent. I have no wish to interfere. I came back and gave up good company for the reason I have stated. I will now only point out that, with your sudden whims, you render my position excessively false in a house where, at your own wish, I am ostensibly established as master."