Heriot's Choice Part 42

Richard's clear glance was overcast with pain as he spoke, but Mildred's affectionate smile spoke volumes.

'I think I never loved you so well, Cardie, now I know how n.o.bly you have acted. Have you told your father of this?'

'No, but I am sure he knows; you have no idea how much he notices; he said something to me once that showed me he was aware of my feelings; we have no secrets now; that is your doing, Aunt Milly.'

Mildred shook her head.

'Ah, but it was; you were the first to break down my reserve; what a churl I must have been in those days. You all think too well of me as it is. Livy especially puts me in a bad humour with myself.'

'I wanted to speak to you of Olive, Richard; are you not thankful that she has found her vocation at last?'

'Indeed I am. I wrote my congratulations by return of post. Fancy Kirke and Steadman undertaking to publish those poems, and Livy only eighteen!'

'Dr. Heriot always told us she had genius. Some of them are really very beautiful. Dear Olive, you should have seen her face when the letter came.'

'I know; I would have given anything to be there.'

'She looked quite radiant, and yet so touchingly humble when she held it out to her father, and then without waiting for us to read it she left the room. I know she was thanking G.o.d for it on her knees, Richard, while we were all gossiping to Dr. Heriot on Livy's good fortune.'

Richard looked touched.

'What an example she is to us all; if she would only believe half the good of herself that we do, Aunt Milly.'

'Then she would lose all her childlike humility. I think she gets less morbidly self-conscious year by year; there is no denying she is brighter.'

'She could not help it, brought into contact with such a nature as Marsden's; that fellow gives one the impression of perfect mental and bodily health. Dr. John told me it was quite refreshing to look at him.'

'Chriss amuses me, she will have it he is so noisy.'

'He has a loud laugh certainly, and his voice is not exactly low-pitched, but he is a splendid fellow. Roy keeps up a steady correspondence with him. By the bye, I have not shown you my last letter from Rome;' and Richard, who had regained his tranquillity and ordinary manner, pulled the thin, foreign-looking envelope from his breast-pocket and entertained Mildred for the remainder of the way with an amusing account of some of Roy's Roman adventures.

That night, as Richard sat alone with his father in the study, Mr.

Lambert placed his hand affectionately on his son's broad shoulder with a look that was rather more scrutinising than usual.

'So the last cloud has cleared away; that is right, Cardie.'

'I do not understand you, father;' but the young man faltered a little under his father's quiet glance.

'Nay, it is for you to explain; only last night you seemed as though you had some trouble on your mind, you were anxious and absorbed, and this evening the oppression seems removed.'

For a moment Richard hesitated, and the old boyish flush came to his face, and then his determination was taken.

'Father,' he said, speaking in a quick, resolute tone, and tossing back his wave of dark hair as he spoke, always a trick of his when agitated, 'there shall be no half-confidence between us; yesterday I was heavy at heart because I thought Ethel Trelawny would marry Sir Robert Ferrers; to-day I hear she has refused him and the weight is gone.'

Mr. Lambert gave a low, dismayed exclamation, and his hand dropped from his son's shoulder.

'Ah, is it so, my poor boy?' he said at last, and there was no mistaking the sorrowful tone.

'Yes, it is so, father,' he returned firmly; 'you may call me a fool for my pains--I do not know, perhaps I am one--but it is too late to help it now; the mischief is of too long standing.'

In spite of his very real sympathy a smile crossed his father's lips, and yet as he looked at Richard it somehow died away. Youthful as he was, barely one-and-twenty, there was a set determination, a staid manliness, in his whole mien that added five years at least to his age.

Even to a disinterested eye he seemed a son of whom any father might be proud; not tall--the ma.s.sive, thick-set figure seemed made for strength more than grace--but the face was pre-eminently handsome, the dark eyes beamed with intelligence, the forehead was broad and benevolent, the lips still closed with the old inflexibility, but the hard lines had relaxed: firm and dominant, yet ruled by the single eye of integral principle; there was no fear that Richard Lambert would ever overstep the boundaries of a clearly-defined right.

'That is my brave boy,' murmured his father at last, watching him with a sort of wistful pain; 'but, Cardie, I cannot but feel grieved that you have set your heart on this girl.'

'What! do you doubt the wisdom or the fitness of my choice?' demanded the young man hotly.

'Both, Cardie; the girl is everything that one could wish; dear to me almost as a daughter of my own, but Trelawny--ah, my poor boy, do you dream that you can satisfy her father's ambition?'

'I shall not try to do so,' returned Richard, speaking with set lips; 'I know him too well; he would sell her to the highest bidder, sell his own flesh and blood; but she is too n.o.ble for his corrupting influence.'

'You speak bitterly, Cardie.'

'I speak as I feel. Look here, father, foolishly or wisely, it does not matter now, I have set my heart on this thing; I have grown up with this one idea before me, the hope of one day, however distant, calling Ethel Trelawny my wife. I do not think I am one to change.'

Mr. Lambert shook his head.

'I fear not, Cardie.'

'I am as sure of the faithfulness of my own heart as I am that I am standing here; young as I am, I know I love her as you loved my mother.'

His father covered his face with his hand.

'No, no; do not say that, Cardie.'

'I must say what is true; you would not have me lie to you.'

'Surely not; but, my boy, this is a hard hearing.'

'You are thinking of Mr. Trelawny,' returned Richard, quietly; 'that is not my worst fear; my chief obstacle is Ethel herself.'

'What! you doubt her returning your affection?' asked his father.

'Yes, I doubt it,' was the truthful answer; but it was made with quivering lips. 'I dread lest I should not satisfy her exacting fastidiousness; but all the same I mean to try; you will bid me G.o.dspeed, father?'

'Yes, yes; but, Cardie, be prudent, remember how little you have to offer--a few hundreds a year where she has thousands, not even a curacy!'

'You think I ought to wait a little; another year--two perhaps?'

'That is my opinion, certainly.'

Richard crossed the room once or twice with a rapid, disordered stride, and then he returned to his father's side.

'You are right; I must not do anything rashly or impulsively just because I fear to lose her. I ought not to speak even to her until I have taken orders; and yet if I could only make her understand how it is without speaking.'

'You must be very prudent, Cardie; remember my son has no right to aspire to an heiress.'

Richard's face clouded.