Henrietta Temple Part 30

my dear Glas...o...b..ry, you know not what happiness I experience in the thought that she will soon be my daughter.'

Glas...o...b..ry could not refrain from sighing. He took up the pencil and touched her drawing.

'Do you know, dear Glas...o...b..ry,' resumed Sir Ratcliffe, 'I had little hope in our late visitation. I cannot say I had prepared myself for the worst, but I antic.i.p.ated it. We have had so much unhappiness in our family, that I could not persuade myself that the cup was not going to be dashed from our lips.'

'G.o.d is merciful,' said Glas...o...b..ry.

'You are his minister, dear Glas...o...b..ry, and a worthy one. I know not what we should have done without you in this awful trial; but, indeed, what could I have done throughout life without you?'

'Let us hope that everything is for the best,' said Glas...o...b..ry.

'And his mother, his poor mother, what would have become of her? She never could have survived his loss. As for myself, I would have quitted England for ever, and gone into a monastery.'

'Let us only remember that he lives,' said Glas...o...b..ry.

'And that we shall soon all be happy,' said Sir Ratcliffe, in a more animated tone. 'The future is, indeed, full of solace. But we must take care of him; he is too rapid in his movements. He has my father's blood in him, that is clear. I never could well make out why he left Bath so suddenly, and rushed down in so strange a manner to this place.'

'Youth is impetuous,' said Glas...o...b..ry.

'It was lucky you were here, Glas...o...b..ry.'

'I thank G.o.d that I was,' said Glas...o...b..ry, earnestly; then checking himself, he added, 'that I have been of any use.'

'You are always of use. What should we do without you? I should long ago have sunk. Ah! Glas...o...b..ry, G.o.d in his mercy sent you to us.'

'See here,' said Katherine, entering, her fair cheek glowing with animation, 'only dahlias, but they will look pretty, and enliven his room. Oh! that I might write him a little word, and tell him I am here!

Do not you think I might, Mr. Glas...o...b..ry?'

'He will know that you are here to-day,' said Glas...o...b..ry.

'To-morrow-----'

'Ah! you always postpone it,' said Miss Grandison, in a tone half playful, half reproachful; 'and yet it is selfish to murmur. It is for his good that I bear this bereavement, and that thought should console me. Heigho!'

Sir Ratcliffe stepped forward and kissed his niece. Glas...o...b..ry was busied on the drawing: he turned away his face.

Sir Ratcliffe took up his gun. 'G.o.d bless you, dear Kate,' he said; 'a pleasant drive and a choice sketch. We shall meet at dinner.'

'At dinner, dear uncle; and better sport than yesterday.'

'Ha! ha!' said Sir Ratcliffe. 'But Armine is not like Grandison. If I were in the old preserves, you should have no cause to jeer at my sportsmanship.'

Miss Grandison's good wishes were prophetic: Sir Ratcliffe found excellent sport, and returned home very late, and in capital spirits. It was the dinner-hour, and yet Katherine and Glas...o...b..ry had not returned.

He was rather surprised. The shades of evening were fast descending, and the distant lawns of Armine were already invisible; the low moan of the rising wind might be just distinguished; and the coming night promised to be raw and cloudy, perhaps tempestuous. Sir Ratcliffe stood before the crackling fire in the dining-room, otherwise in darkness, but the flame threw a bright yet glancing light upon the Snyders, so that the figures seemed really to move in the shifting shades, the eye of the infuriate boar almost to emit sparks of rage, and there wanted but the shouts of the huntsmen and the panting of the dogs to complete the tumult of the chase.

Just as Sir Ratcliffe was antic.i.p.ating some mischance to his absent friends, and was about to steal upon tip-toe to Lady Armine, who was with Ferdinand, to consult her, the practised ear of a man who lived much in the air caught the distant sound of wheels, and he went out to welcome them.

'Why, you are late,' said Sir Ratcliffe, as the phaeton approached the house. 'All right, I hope?'

He stepped forward to a.s.sist Miss Grandison. The darkness of the evening prevented him from observing her swollen eyes and agitated countenance.

She sprang out of the carriage in silence, and immediately ran up into her room. As for Glas...o...b..ry, he only observed it was very cold, and entered the house with Sir Ratcliffe.

'This fire is hearty,' said Glas...o...b..ry, warming himself before it: 'you have had good sport, I hope? We are not to wait dinner for Miss Grandison, Sir Ratcliffe. She will not come down this evening; she is not very well.'

'Not very well: ah! the cold, I fear. You have been imprudent in staying so late. I must run and tell Lady Armine.'

'Oblige me, I pray, by not doing so,' said Glas...o...b..ry; 'Miss Grandison most particularly requested that she should not be disturbed.'

It was with some difficulty that Glas...o...b..ry could contrive that Miss Grandison's wishes should be complied with; but at length he succeeded in getting Sir Ratcliffe to sit down to dinner, and affecting a cheerfulness which was far from his spirit, the hour of ten at length arrived, and Glas...o...b..ry, before retiring to his tower, paid his evening visit to Ferdinand.

CHAPTER XIII.

_In Which the Family Perplexities Rather Increase than Diminish_.

IF EVER there were a man who deserved a serene and happy life it was Adrian Glas...o...b..ry. He had pursued a long career without injuring or offending a human being; his character and conduct were alike spotless; he was void of guile; he had never told a falsehood, never been entangled in the slightest deceit; he was easy in his circ.u.mstances; he had no relations to prey upon his purse or his feelings; and, though alone in the world, was blessed with such a sweet and benignant temper, gifted with so many resources, and adorned with so many accomplishments, that he appeared to be always employed, amused, and contented. And yet, by a strange contrariety of events, it appeared that this excellent person was now placed in a situation which is generally the consequence of impetuous pa.s.sions not very scrupulous in obtaining their ends. That breast, which heretofore would have shrunk from being a.n.a.lysed only from the refined modesty of its nature, had now become the depository of terrible secrets: the day could scarcely pa.s.s over without finding him in a position which rendered equivocation on his part almost a necessity, while all the anxieties inseparable from pecuniary embarra.s.sments were forced upon his attention, and his feelings were racked from sympathy with individuals who were bound to him by no other tie, but to whose welfare he felt himself engaged to sacrifice all his pursuits, and devote all his time and labour. And yet he did not murmur, although he had scarcely hope to animate him. In whatever light he viewed coming events, they appeared ominous only of evil. All that he aimed at now was to soothe and support, and it was his unshaken confidence in Providence that alone forbade him to despair.

When he repaired to the Place in the morning he found everything in confusion. Miss Grandison was very unwell; and Lady Armine, frightened by the recent danger from which they had escaped, very alarmed. She could no longer conceal from Ferdinand that his Katherine was here, and perhaps Lady Armine was somewhat surprised at the calmness with which her son received the intelligence. But Miss Grandison was not only very unwell but very obstinate. She would not leave her room, but insisted that no medical advice should be called in. Lady Armine protested, supplicated, adjured; Miss Grandison appealed to Mr. Glas...o...b..ry; and Glas...o...b..ry, who was somewhat of a physician, was called in, and was obliged to a.s.sure Lady Armine that Miss Grandison was only suffering from a cold and only required repose. A warm friendship subsisted between Lady Armine and her niece. She had always been Katherine's favourite aunt, and during the past year there had been urgent reasons why Lady Armine should have cherished this predisposition in her favour.

Lady Armine was a fascinating person, and all her powers had been employed to obtain an influence over the heiress. They had been quite successful. Miss Grandi-son looked forward almost with as much pleasure to being Lady Armine's daughter as her son's bride. The intended mother-in-law was in turn as warmhearted as her niece was engaging; and eventually Lady Armine loved Katherine for herself alone.

In a few days, however, Miss Grandison announced that she was quite recovered, and Lady Armine again devoted her unbroken attention to her son, who was now about to rise for the first time from his bed. But although Miss Grandison was no longer an invalid, it is quite certain that if the attention of the other members of the family had not been so entirely engrossed, a very great change in her behaviour could not have escaped their notice. Her flowers and drawings seemed to have lost their relish; her gaiety to have deserted her. She pa.s.sed a great portion of the morning in her room; and although it was announced to her that Ferdinand was aware of her being an inmate of the Place, and that in a day or two they might meet, she scarcely evinced, at this prospect of resuming his society, so much gratification as might have been expected; and though she daily took care that his chamber should still be provided with flowers, it might have been remarked that the note she had been so anxious to send him was never written. But how much, under the commonest course of circ.u.mstances, happens in all domestic circles that is never observed or never remarked till the observation is too late!

At length the day arrived when Lady Armine invited her niece to visit her son. Miss Grandison expressed her readiness to accompany her aunt, but took an opportunity of requesting Glas...o...b..ry to join them; and all three proceeded to the chamber of the invalid.

The white curtain of the room was drawn; but though the light was softened, the apartment was by no means obscure. Ferdinand was sitting in an easy-chair, supported by pillows. A black handkerchief was just twined round his forehead, for his head had been shaved, except a few curls on the side and front, which looked stark and l.u.s.treless. He was so thin and pale, and his eyes and cheeks were so wan and hollow, that it was scarcely credible that in so short a s.p.a.ce of time a man could have become such a wreck. When he saw Katherine he involuntarily dropped his eyes, but extended his hand to her with some effort of earnestness.

She was almost as pale as he, but she took his hand. It was so light and cold, it felt so much like death, that the tears stole down her cheek.

'You hardly know me, Katherine,' said Ferdinand, feebly. 'This is good of you to visit a sick man.'

Miss Grandison could not reply, and Lady Armine made an observation to break the awkward pause.

'And how do you like Armine?' said Ferdinand. 'I wish I could be your guide. But Glas...o...b..ry is so kind!'

A hundred times Miss Grandison tried to reply, to speak, to make the commonest observation, but it was in vain. She grew paler every moment; her lips moved, but they sent forth no sound.

'Kate is not well,' said Lady Armine. 'She has been very unwell. This visit,' she added in a whisper to Ferdinand, 'is a little too much for her.'

Ferdinand sighed.

'Mother,' he at length said, 'you must ask Katherine to come and sit here with you; if indeed she will not feel the imprisonment.'

Miss Grandison turned in her chair, and hid her face with her handkerchief.

'My sweet child,' said Lady Armine, rising and kissing her, 'this is too much for you. You really must restrain yourself. Ferdinand will soon be himself again; he will indeed.'

Miss Grandison sobbed aloud. Glas...o...b..ry was much distressed, but Ferdinand avoided catching his eye; and yet, at last, Ferdinand said with an effort, and in a very kind voice, 'Dear Kate, come and sit by me.'

Miss Grandison went into hysterics; Ferdinand sprang from his chair and seized her hand; Lady Armine tried to restrain her son; Glas...o...b..ry held the agitated Katherine.