A Search For A Secret Volume Ii Part 8

"Frightened you!" I said. "How? What is the matter?"

"What have you been doing? and why did you not answer my knocking?"

"I answered directly I heard it."

"Then what have you been doing, Agnes? I have been knocking for ten minutes. How pale you are, and your hands are as cold as ice, and so is your face; you are nearly frozen. There don't say anything now, but come down to the dining-room."

I had some difficulty in getting downstairs; I had sat so long motionless in the cold, that I was, as Polly said, nearly frozen, and it required all the a.s.sistance she could give me, before I was able to get down at all. Once in the dining-room, Polly wheeled the sofa up in front of the fire, and then ran off and got some boiling water from the kitchen, and made me a gla.s.s of hot port wine and water, which she insisted on my drinking scalding hot,--all the time scolding and petting me; then when I began to get warm again, she told me that when she had done practising, not finding me anywhere, she asked the housemaid if she had seen me, and the girl told her that I had gone into my room more than an hour before, and that she had not seen me since. Polly went back to the dining-room, but finding that time went on, and I did not come down, she came up to my room to scold me for staying up in the cold so long, and to suggest that if I had not finished writing, I should go into papa's consulting-room, where I should be quite secure from interruption. She had knocked, but receiving no answer, had at first gone away again, thinking that perhaps I had lain down, and gone to sleep, having had such a short night; but after she had gone down stairs again, she came to the conclusion that I should not have done that without telling her of my intention; so she had come up to my door again, and finding that her first gentle knocking had produced no effect, she had continued, getting louder and louder, and becoming more and more terrified, until at last, just as I had opened the door, she had worked herself into such an agony of terror, that she was on the point of running down into the kitchen to send out for some one to come in to force the door.

I told Polly that I was very sorry that I had frightened her so much, but that I really did not know what had come over me; that I had sat there thinking, and that I supposed I had got regularly numbed, and had not noticed her knocking until I got up and opened the door. When I was thoroughly warmed again, I proposed going into the library to write my letters, but Polly would not let me, as she said that I had had more than enough excitement for one day. So I yielded to her entreaties, not sorry indeed to put off the painful task, if only for one day.

On the following morning, however, I went into papa's study to write my letters, and got through them more easily than I had expected. Polly came in from time to time to see that I was not agitating myself too much, only staying just for a minute or two to kiss me, and say some little word of consolation and love. My first letter was to Percy. I told him what had happened, and that all hope which I might previously have entertained of finding the will, was now entirely extinguished. I told him that I knew he loved me for my own sake; and no unworthy doubt that this would make any difference in him had ever entered my mind; but I frankly said that I feared Lady Desborough would no longer give her approval and consent, and that I foresaw painful times in store for us, for it was of course out of the question that we could marry in the face of her determined opposition. Putting aside pecuniary considerations, which even lovers could not entirely ignore, I could not consent to marry into a family where my presence would be the cause of dissension and division between mother and son. I said this was my fixed determination, and begged him to acquiesce in it, and not pain me by solicitations--to which I could not yield--to do otherwise than what I felt to be right, in the event of his mother's insisting on his breaking off his engagement with me.

My letter to Percy finished, I had the other and more difficult one before me, and I was some considerable time before I could make up my mind respecting it. In the first place, should it be to Lady Desborough or Ada? and then, how should I put it? Of course I must say that all hope of finding the will was gone; but should I add that in consequence I considered my engagement with Percy to be at an end, or should I leave her to do so? At one time I resolved upon the former, and wrote the beginnings of two or three letters to that effect. But then I said to myself, why should I do this? Why should I a.s.sume that she would stop the allowance of 300l. a year, which Percy has, when he thinks that with that and the staff pay he expects to get in India, there is no reason why we could not manage very well? I accordingly came to the conclusion to write to Ada. I told her all that we had done, and that the will was now unquestionably lost for ever; I said that this was of course a grievous disappointment to me, and then after a little chit-chat upon ordinary matters, I wound up by asking her to show to Lady Desborough the part relating to the loss of the will.

Although I wrote these letters at the same time, I did not send off the one to Ada until the following day. I delayed it in this way in order that Lady Desborough might get a letter from Percy within a few hours of receiving mine; so that she might not answer me until she had heard Percy's arguments and entreaties that she would not withdraw her approval of the engagement.

The second letter sent off, I had nothing to do but to wait patiently, but oh, how anxiously, for the result.

Percy's letter came by return of post; it was just what I knew it would be, a repet.i.tion of the one he had written when the will was first found missing,--full of pa.s.sionate protestations of love, and a.s.surances that my fortune had only value in his eyes on my account, and that therefore to him its loss could make no difference. He said that it was quite impossible that his mother could withdraw her consent, previously so warmly given, merely from a matter of money; and he affirmed that indeed, at the age he was, he did not consider that under any circ.u.mstances she had any right to dictate his choice to him. He told me that he was that day writing to her, to inform her that of course what had happened had not made the slightest change in his intentions, and that he felt a.s.sured she would be entirely of his opinion. The next day pa.s.sed without any letter from Lady Desborough; the next and the next--a week pa.s.sed. How my heart ached. I knew what the delay meant, and could guess at the angry correspondence which must be pa.s.sing between mother and son. I knew what the result must be, and yet I hoped against hope until the eighth day, when the long-expected letter arrived; it was as follows:--

"My dear Miss Ashleigh,

"You may imagine how extremely sorry we all were to hear that the will under which you ought to come into possession of the fortune to which I always understood that you were ent.i.tled, is missing, and I fear from what you say in your letter to Ada irretrievably lost. This is a terrible event for you, and the more so, since it of course alters your position with respect to my son Percy. You will I am sure be sorry to hear that it has caused a very serious misunderstanding between him and me.

I gather from what he has let drop, that you yourself quite see that it is out of the question that your engagement with him can continue, and I know that you will regret with me that he should not like ourselves submit to what is inevitable. Knowing your good sense, I felt sure that you would, as a matter of course, view the matter in the same light that I do, and it gives me pleasure to know that I had so correctly judged your character. I am sure, my dear Miss Ashleigh, that you would be grieved that any serious estrangement should take place between Percy and myself; but I am sorry to say his obstinate and violent conduct at present renders this not only probable, but imminent. I rely upon your aid to a.s.sist me in bringing him to the same way of thinking as ourselves. Percy will, I am sure, listen to your arguments with more politeness and deference than he pays to mine. His allowance, as you are aware, depends entirely upon me, and it is quite impossible, as he surely must see, that he can support a wife, even in India, on a bare lieutenant's pay. I rely upon your good sense to convince him of this, and you will be doing a great service to us all by your a.s.sistance in this matter. I need not say, in conclusion, how much all this sad affair, and my son's headstrong folly, have shaken and disturbed me, and how much I regret that circ.u.mstances should have occurred to prevent an alliance on which I had set my heart. And now, with my sincere condolence,

"Believe me, my dear Miss Ashleigh,

"Yours very faithfully,

"EVELINE DESBOROUGH."

I really could hardly help smiling, pained and heartsick as I felt, at the quiet way in which Lady Desborough arranged the affair, and claimed me as an ally against Percy. When I had finished the letter, I gave it to Polly--who was watching my face most anxiously--to read, and I do think that if Lady Desborough had been there my sister Polly would have been very near committing a breach of the peace. She did not say much--only the one word "infamous," as she threw the letter on to the table, and then sat down by the fire, biting her lips with anger, with her large eyes ablaze, and her fingers and feet twitching and quivering with suppressed rage.

A letter arrived by the same post from Ada, which I will also copy from the original, which has been so long laying in my desk:--

"My darling Agnes,

"This is a terrible affair, and I am quite ill with it all. My eyes are red and swollen, and, altogether, I was never so wretched in my life. I should have written to you at once to tell you how sorry I was about it, and that I love you more dearly than ever, but mamma positively ordered me not to do so at first, so that I was obliged to wait; but as I know that she has written to you to-day, I must do the same. We have had such dreadful scenes here, Agnes, you can hardly imagine. On the same morning your letter arrived, one came from Percy. It did not come till the eleven o'clock post, and I had sent your letter up to mamma in her room before that. Mamma wrote to Percy the same day; what she said I do not know; but two days afterwards Percy himself arrived, and for the last three days there have been the most dreadful scenes here. That is, the scenes have been all on Percy's side. He is half out of his mind, while mamma is very cold, and----Well, you can guess what she could be if she pleased. To-day she has not been out of her room, and has sent word to Percy that as long as he remains in the house she shall not leave it. So things are at a dead-lock.

What is to be done I have no idea. Of course I agree with Percy, and think mamma very wrong. But what can I do? My head is aching so, I can hardly write; and indeed, Agnes, I think I am as wretched as you can be. I do not see what is to come of it. Mamma and Percy are equally obstinate, and which will give way I know not. Mamma holds the purse-strings, and therefore she has a great advantage over him. I am afraid it will be a permanent quarrel, which will be dreadful. My darling Agnes, what can I say or do? I believe Percy will go down to see you, although I have begged him not to do so for your sake; but he only asked me if I was going to turn against him, too; so, of course, I could do nothing but cry. How will it end? Oh, Agnes, who would have thought it would ever come to this? I will write again in a day or two. Goodbye, my own Agnes.

"Your most affectionate

"ADA."

At twelve o'clock that day there was a knock at the door, and Percy Desborough was ushered in. I was prepared for his coming, and therefore received him with tolerable composure; and although I dreaded the painful scene I knew I should have to go through, I was yet glad that he had come, for I felt that it was better that all this should come to an end. Percy was looking very pale and worn, and as he came up to me, much as I had schooled myself, I could hardly keep my tears down. He came up, took me in his arms, and kissed me. I suffered him to do so. I knew that it was nearly the last kiss that I should ever have from him. Polly, after the first salutation, would have left the room, but I said,--

"Stop here, please, Polly. She knows all about it, Percy; and it is better for us both that she should be here. I have heard this morning from Lady Desborough, and also from Ada, so I know what you have come down for."

"I have come down, Agnes," Percy said, solemnly, "to renew and confirm my engagement to you. I have come down, that you may hear me swear before G.o.d that I will never marry any other woman but you."

"And I, Percy, will marry no other man; but you, even you, I will never marry without your mother's consent. I will never divide mother and son.

Besides which, without her consent, it would be impossible."

"Impossible just at present, Agnes, I admit. My mother has refused to allow me one farthing if I marry you, and I know I cannot ask you to go out to India as a lieutenant's wife, on a lieutenant's pay; but in a short time I am sure to get a staff appointment; and although it will not be such a home as I had hoped to offer you, it will be at least a home in which we could have every necessary comfort; and I know you too well, not to feel sure that you would be content with it."

"Percy," I said, "why do you tempt me? You know well how gladly I would go with you anywhere, that comfort or discomfort would make little difference to me if they were shared by you. But you know Lady Desborough, and you know well that she will not only refuse to a.s.sist you now, but that she will utterly disown and cast you off if you act in defiance of her will. You are choosing between wife and mother; if you take the one, you lose the other. Has she not told you, Percy, that if you marry me, you are no longer son of hers?"

Percy hesitated. "She has," he said, "she has; but, Agnes, although in any just exercise of her authority, I, as a son, would yield to her; yet at my age, I have a perfect right, in a matter of this sort, to choose for myself; besides, she has already given her entire approval, and it is not because circ.u.mstances have changed that she has any right to withdraw that consent. It was you she approved of, and you are unaltered."

"She is acting, as she believes, for your good, Percy. You think her mistaken and cruel, but she will never change, and I will never marry you without her consent. See, Percy, I have no false pride. I would have come to you, had there been nothing to prevent it, as a penniless wife, although I had hoped it would have been otherwise; but no true woman will drag her husband down; no true woman will marry a man when, instead of bringing him a fortune, she brings him ruin. You are now comparatively well off; some day you will be much better; and I will not be the means of your losing this--losing not only this, but your mother."

"But my happiness, Agnes!--what is money to happiness?" Percy exclaimed, impetuously.

"Nothing, Percy,--I know and feel that; but I also feel that my decision is right, and not wrong. I know that I could not decide otherwise, and that whatever unhappiness it may cause us both, yet that, without your mother's consent, I can never be yours."

"You will make me wish my mother dead, Agnes," Percy said, pa.s.sionately.

"No, no, Percy, do not say that; I know I am doing right. Do not make it harder for me than I can bear."

Percy strode up and down the room. Once or twice he stopped before me, as if he would speak, but he did not. I was crying freely now, and I could not look up at him.

"Can you not say something for me?" he said to Polly, at last.

Polly got up when he spoke to her--before that she had been sitting on the sofa by me, holding one of my hands in hers--now she went up to him.

She put one of her hands on his shoulder, took one of his hands in her other, and looked up into his face.

"Percy, she is right--you know in your own heart she is so. Have pity upon her; she will not do it--she cannot. I love her better than myself, but I could not advise her to do, even for her happiness, what she believes is not right;--she cannot come between you and your mother.

Wait, Percy, and be patient--time works wonders. You may be sure she will be yours in heart to the end of her life. Have pity on her, Percy, and go."

"Oh, Polly, have pity on me, too," Percy said, and his lips quivered now; and although he kept the features of his face still rigid and under control, the tears were starting from his eyes. "What shall I do!"

"Go, Percy," I said, getting up. "Go. Let us help each other;" and I took his hands now, and looked up into his face. "Go. I do not say, forget me; I do not say, goodbye for ever; I only say, go, now. I cannot do what you ask me; let us wait--let us wait and hope."

"Agnes," Percy said, solemnly, "I go now; I leave you for a time, but our engagement is not over, and again hear me swear never to marry any woman but you."

"And I no other man, Percy; and now kiss me and go."

For a little while Percy held me strained to his heart, his tears rained down upon my face, his lips pressed mine again and again, then one long, long kiss--I felt it was the last; then he gave me to Polly, who was standing near. I heard the door close behind him, and for a long time I heard no other sound. I had fainted.

CHAPTER VIII.

STRUGGLES FOR A LIVING.

When at Christmas time Robert Gregory heard that one of the springs which were supposed to open the secret door was found, he gave up for a time even the pretence of looking for anything to do; but not very long afterwards he met an old friend, and most unexpectedly went into a business with him, and that perhaps the only one which could have been named for which he was really fitted.