The Belton Estate Part 15

"H--sh!" she said, rising gently from her chair, and putting up her finger. He saw her by the dull light of the fire, and closed the door without a sound. Clara then crept into the back-room, and he followed her with noiseless step. "She did not sleep at all last night," said Clara; "and now the unusual excitement of the day has fatigued her, and I think it is better not to wake her." The rooms were large, and they were able to place themselves at such a distance from the sleeper that their low words could hardly disturb her.

"Was she very tired when she got home?" he asked.

"Not very. She has been talking much since that."

"Has she spoken about her will to you?"

"Yes;--she has."

"I thought she would." Then he was silent, as though he expected that she would speak again on that matter. But she had no wish to discuss her aunt's will with him, and therefore, to break the silence, asked him some trifling question. "Are you not home earlier than you expected?"

"It was very dull, and there was nothing more to be said. I did come away early, and perhaps have given affront. I hope you will accept the compliment implied."

"Your aunt will, when she wakes. She will be delighted to find you here."

"I am awake," said Mrs. Winterfield. "I heard Frederic come in. It is very good of him to come so soon. Clara, my dear, we will have tea."

During tea, Captain Aylmer was called upon to give an account of the Mayor's feast,--how the rector had said grace before dinner, and Mr. Possitt had done so after dinner, and how the soup had been uneatable. "Dear me!" said Mrs. Winterfield. "And yet his wife was housekeeper formerly in a family that lived very well!" The Mrs.

Winterfields of this world allow themselves little spiteful pleasures of this kind, repenting of them, no doubt, in those frequent moments in which they talk to their friends of their own terrible vilenesses.

Captain Aylmer then explained that his own health had been drunk, and his aunt desired to know whether, in returning thanks, he had been able to say anything further against that wicked Divorce Act of Parliament. This her nephew was constrained to answer with a negative, and so the conversation was carried on till tea was over.

She was very anxious to hear every word that he could be made to utter as to his own doings in Parliament, and as to his doings in Perivale, and hung upon him with that wondrous affection which old people with warm hearts feel for those whom they have selected as their favourites. Clara saw it all, and knew that her aunt was almost doting.

"I think I'll go up to bed now, my dears," said Mrs. Winterfield, when she had taken her cup of tea. "I am tired with those weary stairs in the Town-hall, and I shall be better in my own room." Clara offered to go with her, but this attendance her aunt declined,--as she did always. So the bell was rung, and the old maid-servant walked off with her mistress, and Miss Amedroz and Captain Aylmer were left together.

"I don't think she will last long," said Captain Aylmer, soon after the door was closed.

"I should be sorry to believe that; but she is certainly much altered."

"She has great courage to keep her up,--and a feeling that she should not give way, but do her duty to the last. In spite of all that, however, I can see how changed she is since the summer. Have you ever thought how sad it will be if she should be alone when the day comes?"

"She has Martha, who is more to her now than any one else,--unless it is you."

"You could not remain with her over Christmas, I suppose?"

"Who, I? What would my father do? Papa is as old, or nearly as old, as my aunt."

"But he is strong."

"He is very lonely. He would be more lonely than she is, for he has no such servant as Martha to be with him. Women can do better than men, I think, when they come to my aunt's age."

From this they got into a conversation as to the character of the lady with whom they were both so nearly connected, and, in spite of all that Clara could do to prevent it, continual references were made by Captain Aylmer to her money and her will, and the need of an addition to that will on Clara's behalf. At last she was driven to speak out. "Captain Aylmer," she said, "the subject is so distasteful to me, that I must ask you not to speak about it."

"In my position I am driven to think about it."

"I cannot, of course, help your thoughts; but I can a.s.sure you that they are unnecessary."

"It seems to me so hard that there should be such a gulf between you and me." This he said after he had been silent for a while; and as he spoke he looked away from her at the fire.

"I don't know that there is any particular gulf," she replied.

"Yes, there is. And it is you that make it. Whenever I attempt to speak to you as a friend you draw yourself off from me, and shut yourself up. I know that it is not jealousy."

"Jealousy, Captain Aylmer!"

"Jealousy with my aunt, I mean."

"No, indeed."

"You are infinitely too proud for that; but I am sure that a stranger seeing it all would think that it was so."

"I don't know what it is that I do or that I ought not to do. But all my life everything that I have done at Perivale has always been wrong."

"It would have been so natural that you and I should be friends."

"If we are enemies, Captain Aylmer, I don't know it."

"But if ever I venture to speak of your future life you always repel me;--as though you were determined to let me know that it should not be a matter of care to me."

"That is exactly what I am determined to let you know. You are, or will be, a rich man, and you have everything the world can give you.

I am, or shall be, a very poor woman."

"Is that a reason why I should not be interested in your welfare?"

"Yes;--the best reason in the world. We are not related to each other, though we have a common connection in dear Mrs. Winterfield.

And nothing, to my idea, can be more objectionable than any sort of dependence from a woman of my age on a man of yours,--there being no real tie of blood between them. I have spoken very plainly, Captain Aylmer, for you have made me do it."

"Very plainly," he said.

"If I have said anything to offend you, I beg your pardon; but I was driven to explain myself." Then she got up and took her bed-candle in her hand.

"You have not offended me," he said, as he also rose.

"Good-night, Captain Aylmer."

He took her hand and kept it. "Say that we are friends."

"Why should we not be friends?"

"There is no reason on my part why we should not be the dearest friends," he said. "Were it not that I am so utterly without encouragement, I should say the very dearest." He still held her hand, and was looking into her face as he spoke. For a moment she stood there, bearing his gaze, as though she expected some further words to be spoken. Then she withdrew her hand, and again saying, in a clear voice, "Good-night, Captain Aylmer," she left the room.

CHAPTER IX.

CAPTAIN AYLMER'S PROMISE TO HIS AUNT.

What had Captain Aylmer meant by telling her that they might be the dearest friends--by saying so much as that, and then saying no more?