John Halifax, Gentleman Part 109

"Coachman, drive on!"

But the man--he was an old man--seemed to hesitate at urging his horses right over "my lady." He even looked down on her with a sort of compa.s.sion--I remembered having heard say that she was always kind and affable to her servants.

"Drive on, you fool! Here"--and Mr. Brithwood threw some coin amongst the mob--"Fetch the constable--some of you; take the woman to the watch-house!"

And the carriage rolled on, leaving her there, crouched on the kerbstone, gazing after it with something between a laugh and a moan.

n.o.body touched her. Perhaps some had heard of her; a few might even have seen her--driving through Norton Bury in her pristine state, as the young 'squire's handsome wife--the charming Lady Caroline.

I was so absorbed in the sickening sight, that I did not perceive how John and Ursula, standing behind me, had seen it likewise--evidently seen and understood it all.

"What is to be done?" she whispered to him.

"What ought we to do?"

Here Maud came running out to see what was amiss in the street.

"Go in, child," said Mrs. Halifax, sharply. "Stay till I fetch you."

Lady Oldtower also advanced to the door; but catching some notion of what the disturbance was, shocked and scandalised, retired into the shop again.

John looked earnestly at his wife, but for once she did not or would not understand his meaning; she drew back uneasily.

"What must be done?--I mean, what do you want me to do?"

"What only a woman can do--a woman like you, and in your position."

"Yes, if it were only myself. But think of the household--think of Maud. People will talk so. It is hard to know how to act."

"Nay; how did One act--how would He act now, if He stood in the street this day? If we take care of aught of His, will He not take care of us and of our children?"

Mrs. Halifax paused, thought a moment, hesitated--yielded.

"John, you are right; you are always right. I will do anything you please."

And then I saw, through the astonished crowd, in face of scores of window-gazers, all of whom knew them, and a great number of whom they also knew, Mr. Halifax and his wife walk up to where the miserable woman lay.

John touched her lightly on the shoulder--she screamed and cowered down.

"Are you the constable? He said he would send the constable."

"Hush--do not be afraid. Cousin--Cousin Caroline."

G.o.d knows how long it was since any woman had spoken to her in that tone. It seemed to startle back her shattered wits. She rose to her feet, smiling airily.

"Madam, you are very kind. I believe I have had the pleasure of seeing you somewhere. Your name is--"

"Ursula Halifax. Do you remember?"--speaking gently as she would have done to a child.

Lady Caroline bowed--a ghastly mockery of her former sprightly grace.

"Not exactly; but I dare say I shall presently--au revoir, madame!"

She was going away, kissing her hand--that yellow, wrinkled, old woman's hand,--but John stopped her.

"My wife wants to speak to you, Lady Caroline. She wishes you to come home with us."

"Plait il?--oh yes; I understand. I shall be happy--most happy."

John offered her his arm with an air of grave deference; Mrs. Halifax supported her on the other side. Without more ado, they put her in the carriage and drove home, leaving Maud in my charge, and leaving astounded Norton Bury to think and say exactly what it pleased.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII

For nearly three years Lady Caroline lived in our house--if that miserable existence of hers could be called living--bedridden, fallen into second childhood:

"Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;"

oblivious to both past and present, recognising none of us, and taking no notice of anybody, except now and then of Edwin's little daughter, baby Louise.

We knew that all our neighbours talked us over, making far more than a nine days' wonder of the "very extraordinary conduct" of Mr. and Mrs.

Halifax. That even good Lady Oldtower hesitated a little before she suffered her tribe of fair daughters to visit under the same roof where lay, quite out of the way, that poor wreck of womanhood, which would hardly have tainted any woman now. But in process of time the gossip ceased of itself; and when, one summer day, a small decent funeral moved out of our garden gate to Enderley churchyard, all the comment was:

"Oh! is she dead?--What a relief it must be! How very kind of Mr. and Mrs. Halifax!"

Yes, she was dead, and had "made no sign," either of repentance, grief, or grat.i.tude. Unless one could consider as such a moment's lightening before death, which Maud declared she saw in her--Maud, who had tended her with a devotedness which neither father nor mother forbade, believing that a woman cannot too soon learn womanhood's best "mission"--usefulness, tenderness, and charity. Miss Halifax was certain that a few minutes before the last minute, she saw a gleam of sense in the filmy eyes, and stooping down, had caught some feeble murmur about "William--poor William!"

She did not tell me this; she spoke of it to no one but her mother, and to her briefly. So the wretched life, once beautiful and loveful, was now ended, or perhaps born in some new sphere to begin again its struggle after the highest beauty, the only perfect love. What are we that we should place limits to the infinite mercy of the Lord and Giver of Life, unto whom all life returns?

We buried her and left her--poor Lady Caroline!

No one interfered with us, and we appealed to no one. In truth, there was no one unto whom we could appeal. Lord Luxmore, immediately after his father's funeral, had disappeared, whither, no one knew except his solicitor; who treated with and entirely satisfied the host of creditors, and into whose hands the sole debtor, John Halifax, paid his yearly rent. Therewith, he wrote several times to Lord Luxmore; but the letters were simply acknowledged through the lawyer: never answered. Whether in any of them John alluded to Lady Caroline I do not know; but I rather think not, as it would have served no purpose and only inflicted pain. No doubt, her brother had long since believed her dead, as we and the world had done.

In that same world one man, even a n.o.bleman, is of little account. Lord Ravenel sank in its wide waste of waters, and they closed over him.

Whether he were drowned or saved was of small moment to any one. He was soon forgotten--everywhere except at Beechwood; and sometimes it seemed as if he were even forgotten there. Save that in our family we found it hard to learn this easy, convenient habit--to forget.

Hard, though seven years had pa.s.sed since we saw Guy's merry face, to avoid missing it keenly still. The mother, as her years crept on, oftentimes wearied for him with a yearning that could not be told. The father, as Edwin became engrossed in his own affairs, and Walter's undecided temperament kept him a boy long after boyhood, often seemed to look round vaguely for an eldest son's young strength to lean upon, often said anxiously, "I wish Guy were at home."

Yet still there was no hint of his coming; better he never came at all than came against his will, or came to meet the least pain, the shadow of disgrace. And he was contented and prosperous in the western world, leading an active and useful life, earning an honourable name. He had taken a partner, he told us; there was real friendship between them, and they were doing well; perhaps might make, in a few years, one of those rapid fortunes which clever men of business do make in America, and did especially at that time.

He was also eager and earnest upon other and higher cares than mere business; entered warmly into his father's sympathy about many political measures now occupying men's minds. A great number of comparative facts concerning the factory children in England and America; a ma.s.s of evidence used by Mr. Fowell Buxton in his arguments for the abolition of slavery; and many other things, originated in the impulsive activity, now settled into mature manly energy, of Mr. Guy Halifax, of Boston, U.S.--"our Guy."

"The lad is making a stir in the world," said his father one day, when we had read his last letter. "I shall not wonder if when he comes home a deputation from his native Norton Bury were to appear, requesting him to accept the honour of representing them in Parliament. He would suit them--at least, as regards the canva.s.sing and the ladies--a great deal better than his old father--eh, love?"

Mrs. Halifax smiled, rather unwillingly, for her husband referred to a subject which had cost her some pain at the time. After the Reform Bill pa.s.sed, many of our neighbours, who had long desired that one of John's high character, practical knowledge, and influence in the town, should be its M.P., and were aware that his sole objection to entering the House was the said question of Reform, urged him very earnestly to stand for Norton Bury.

To everybody's surprise, and none more than our own, he refused.