Mabel Volume Ii Part 9

"Oh, no," said Mabel, earnestly, and unhesitatingly; "do not speak like that again. I would not enter on such holy duties with such feelings only; and, even if I did, cruelly should I be taking advantage of your confidence. I came only to ask you to think of me no more--to forgive me, if possible, and--."

"And," returned Clair; "can you forgive me for my former trifling."

"Not quite, for had you not trifled, I might have spared you some pain now. But you do forgive me," she said, extending her hand, and their eyes met for the first time.

"I do, I do; if I have anything to forgive," said Clair, turning his pale face aside, as he pressed her hand.

Mabel bowed gently over it, then withdrawing it from his grasp, glided from him, and re-entered the house.

There was one other duty to be performed before she left Aston, which tried her courage as much as any other; this was taking leave of her mother's two old and faithful servants--but she knew that such a parting, though so trying was one expected of her, and she would not deny them the pleasure of seeing her, perhaps, for the last time. When, however, the hour which she had appointed for their coming arrived, her heart sank within her, and her spirits entirely failed, when she met their familiar faces almost as sad as her own.

"It is like losing the very light of my eyes to see you go away, Miss Mabel," said old John.

"You have served us long and well--and that thought will be very cheering when I am gone," said Mabel, "but I want to know what you mean to do--I want to think you are comfortable when I am away. Will you go to service again?"

"I do not think I could serve another master or mistress," said old John, decidedly. "If so be you wanted a servant--"

"Then," said Mabel, "you would be mine, of course; but that cannot be; and I have been thinking, that if you had a garden of your own--a nursery garden, I mean, you would be independent."

"I was thinking of that myself, ma'am," said old John, with a pleased expression at finding his wants divined--"and if--but I don't like to say it--there, I can't," he said, walking to the window.

"John was going to say, ma'am," interrupted Betsy, seeing that Mabel looked puzzled, "that if it would not hurt your feelings, he should like to keep on the old garden still--if he could have a cottage built where our house stood--if, that is, you do not object."

Mabel checked her rising emotion, and said, cheerfully.

"How could I object to your keeping the dear old garden--how glad should I be to think that it was an old friend, not a stranger, who lived there."

"Would you now, ma'am," said John, his face brightening; "I could keep the old walks and the hot beds as they used to be--and 'twouldn't be quite such a breaking up of old times--for I have lived there so long, it seems like a home to me."

"I should be very glad," said Mabel, "to think you were happy there, and that something of what I loved so well remained still. I will speak to Mr. Clifford, perhaps he may do what we ask--for he seems willing to please everybody."

"Thank ye, ma'am," said John, rubbing his head with an air of consideration, as if he had something more to say.

"And you, Betsy, what will you do?"

"Why, that's the very thing," said John, as Betsy hesitated, in her turn; "'praps you don't know, ma'am, that Jonathan Williams has courted her for many years--but she didn't like to leave poor missis. Now, I was thinking, if you approve, that, as I am getting old, I shall want some one to help me, and as he's a clever man at a garden, I might as well take him into employ or partnership, and so we might live altogether--for," he added, with great emphasis; "I don't like to be put out by strangers--and Betsy knows my ways."

"That will be perfect," cried Mabel, with something of the gladness of her old tone of voice, rising as she spoke; "and you must write to me often, and tell me how this plan goes on;" she said, more hurriedly. "In the mean while, to secure its success, I shall place twenty pounds, a piece, for you, in Mr. Ware's hands; which you can draw upon, as you want money, for furnishing your new house--and I hope you have laid up something for yourselves, and so will be able to start with advantage.

You must let me get you your wedding gown, Betsy."

So difficult is it for the uneducated to separate wealth from gentle manners, and ladylike qualities, that the two faithful domestics accepted her parting gift with grat.i.tude and pleasure; but without the reluctance which they would have felt, had they guessed the real nature of her circ.u.mstances. They could not fancy that the mistress, whose n.o.ble qualities had ever received their genuine respect, was really almost moneyless, and dependent for the blessing of a home. Mabel was not sorry to keep up the illusion, and tore herself from them before they had time to enquire anything of her future plans.

When she placed the money in Mr. Ware's hands, he remonstrated with her on giving away a sum so large in proportion to with what she actually possessed; but she replied cheerfully--

"So much of our comfort is in the hands of our servants, that if they have served us well, we can scarcely reward them enough. The thought that I have shewn them something of my grat.i.tude for the past, will be better to me than the money itself. The selfish reason that I have no one to care for but myself, should at least have its advantages."

Mr. Clifford was easily persuaded to grant Mabel's request, that, upon the site of her once happy home--one might be built for the old servants; and he readily took the opportunity of interesting her by making her choose and alter the plans for the new cottage, which they agreed should be in the same style as the other, though, of course, a real cottage.

Mabel might soon, perhaps, have recovered the harmony of her spirits, amongst those dear friends who were so studiously attentive in every imaginable kindness, but she was not suffered to enjoy their society very long--for her aunt was impatient to return to Bath, and wrote to tell her at what stage upon the road they were to meet.

She dared not delay--neither did she much wish to do so, when she perceived Clair's unhappiness rather increased by time; and she, therefore, felt it right to depart as soon as possible. But, in leaving Aston, she began more and more to realise the true nature of her recent loss; and when Mr. Ware drove her to the little town where she was to meet the coach, he tried in vain to rouse her from the despondency into which she had fallen.

"My child," he said, as he took leave of his weeping charge; "you will remember, though not yet, that your past life calls upon you for future exertion."

Mabel endeavoured to smile her thanks, and her promises, but the light appeared in her eyes only to vanish again, put out by tears--yet, as the coach rolled off, she leant forward, and kissed her hand with an air of cheerfulness. Mr. Ware turned musingly away. As he drove home by himself, the road seemed unusually long, and the large flakes of snow, as they lazily fell through the freezing air, seemed even more cold and comfortless than they usually do: he could not conceal from himself that a gap had been made in his little circle, which he had no opportunity of supplying; and that, with the loss of the Lesly family, he must part with much that had tended to render his life happy.

CHAPTER XI.

I grew up selfish, full of hopes and cares, For my own welfare, unconcerned for theirs--

With many different feelings, Mrs. Villars' return, with her niece, was expected in Bath, by her family--jealousy is, indeed, "strong as death,"

and uncertain and wayward in its effects--Caroline had, with unfeminine obstinacy, determined on becoming mistress of Aston Manor and its owner; and every object that came in her way, was regarded with dislike. She had heard from Lucy, of Mabel's beauty and winning manners; and such beauty, in distress, she fancied more dangerous still. What her mother could be thinking of to bring her to Bath she could not imagine! but it was in vain for her to write an angry appeal: the answer was decisive.

"Mabel must come," the letter said, "and," added Mrs. Villars, "my Cary must make preparation for her proper accommodation; but should you object to our giving up the spare room to her, which certainly would be a sacrifice, you must fit her up a room somewhere, as well as you can--she must not be particular; still, as she is dependent on us, I should not like to stint my favors exactly, though, perhaps, she ought to take rather a more humble footing than my own dear girls." Caroline well understood this letter, and acted accordingly. She knew that her mother's generous fit was pa.s.sing, and that she was preparing to be more worldly wise.

On the evening of Mrs. Villars' expected return, Hargrave was sitting in his study, lost in something very like a reverie, when he was roused by a low tap at his door. Hastily taking up his pen, to a.s.sume the appearance of occupation, he gave the customary answer of "Come in,"

and Caroline entered.

"Henry," said she, with a persuasive smile, "you must come and join our party in the drawing-room. We have a beautiful fire, and everything comfortable--so do come."

"Why to-night particularly?"

"Because we are all waiting to see mamma, and our wonderful cousin, and we want you to amuse the time away."

"Very well," said Hargrave, rising, and slowly closing his desk--putting aside a private paper or two from the table, which was covered with maps, architectural plans, ground measurements, and books.

"Really," pursued Caroline, glancing round the room, "you study too much. How very pale you look--lock up this dry room, and give me the key, you shall have it again in a day or two."

"Dry," repeated Hargrave, with a smile, taking up one paper after another, as if with peculiar affection, "dry--ah, that reminds me I have a question to ask your papa on this subject."

"Now, you tease, you shall not go to that tiresome study to-night; we want you, and you must come with me."

So saying, she pa.s.sed her hand playfully through his arm, and compelled him to accompany her to the drawing-room.

The girls were all seated round a cheerful fire; but, there were two chairs left vacant, side by side. Hargrave, however, evaded this manoeuvre by flinging himself, with all the coolness of accustomed indulgence, at full length upon the sofa, with his head supported by his two hands, and his eyes shut, as if in full preparation for a nap.

"Provoking creature," cried Caroline, "I did not bring you here to go to sleep."

"Pray do not let me disturb you," he replied, yawning; "I am listening."

"Now, Harry, you know that it is only because we all spoil you that you give yourself such airs; but do not think going to sleep a good way to preserve your popularity."

"I am not conscious of any diminution in it," returned the imperturbable Hargrave; "but here I am at your service," he added, slowly rising to a sitting posture.

One great source of amus.e.m.e.nt consisted in watching his caprices, and reporting his humour, as it varied.