The Vicar of Wrexhill Part 64

"Oh! my dear, dear mother!" cried Helen, her own eyes overflowing with freshly-awakened tenderness. "To hear this, Rosalind, is a joy far greater than I can express: and yet, if this returning love is obtained at the expense of her own happiness, I am a wretch to rejoice at it."

"You would be a wretch to purchase it at that price perhaps," replied Rosalind,--"but not for rejoicing at it, now that, poor soul! she has already paid the penalty, as, in truth, I fear she has, of peace of mind for returning reason."

"And what has occurred, Rosalind, to make you think her less happy than heretofore?"

"It is not very easy to answer that question, Helen. Excepting the death of poor Henrietta, and the awful scene which preceded it, in which she accused her father, in the presence of Mrs. Cartwright, f.a.n.n.y, and myself, of pretty nearly all the sins and iniquities of which a man can be guilty;--excepting this, I can hardly say that any particular circ.u.mstance has occurred which can account for the evident change in your mother's spirits, which was quite as evident before the death of Henrietta as since."

"You have observed no unkindness towards her on his part, Rosalind?"

said Helen anxiously.

"N ... o; certainly I have witnessed nothing that could be called unkindness. You know, Helen, he can smile and smile--but he seems, I think, to watch her. More than once, when I have been going to her, I have met him coming away; and when he has seen me, he has turned back, and re-entered her room with me. I know I have been savagely cross to her ever since her hateful marriage: but since I have seen her looking ill and miserable, my hard heart has softened towards her, and I have sought, instead of avoiding her; and I am quite sure, that from the moment he perceived this change, he has been on the _qui vive_ to prevent our being alone together."

"My poor dear mother! I fear, I fear that she may live to deplore this marriage as much as we have ever done. You know, Rosalind, that we never believed Mr. Cartwright to be the holy man he proclaimed himself; but since I have been here, I have heard dreadful stories of him. Lady Harrington's maid is a prodigious gossip; and though I really give her no encouragement, she never dresses me without telling me some new report respecting him. He has, however, a very strong party at Wrexhill, who appear firmly to believe that he is a perfect saint. But here, you know, they are literally and figuratively of another parish, and seem to make it a matter of duty to their own pastor to believe all the tales they can pick up about him. There is one very shocking story indeed, that is, I think, quite incredible. They say that Mrs. Simpson has been seduced by him, and only went away to be confined."

"Incredible. No!--this story is a commentary on one part of Henrietta's dying accusation. She said he would have a child born to him at Gloucester nearly at the same time as that expected here."

"And it is to Gloucester she is gone!" exclaimed Helen. "Gracious heaven, what a wretch!"

"That this at least is true, I have not the slightest doubt," rejoined Rosalind: "and what is more, I am certain your mother has heard it. You know that this precious vicar invited Mrs. Simpson's child to pa.s.s the period of her absence at the Park; and you must remember how very fond of the poor little thing your mother seemed to be, actually listening to her parrot performances in the fanatical line as if she had been inspired. It was before you went, I think, that I laughed at her so immoderately for saying that she prayed for currant pudding every night, and that Mrs. Cartwright was so very angry with me about it. Well!

observe the change, and account for it as you will. For the last two or three weeks she has hardly spoken to the child, or taken the least notice of her: and if I am not greatly mistaken, it is for about the same period that her health and her spirits have appeared to droop.

Depend upon it, Helen, some one has carried this report to her."

"It certainly seems probable. Poor, poor mamma! How terrible her feelings must be, Rosalind, if from thinking this man something half-way between heaven and earth, she has really found out that he is an hypocrite and a villain!"

"Terrible indeed! I would that she had not so well deserved it, Helen.

But now comes the question: _what has brought her here_?"

"I think I understand that perfectly," replied Helen. "No sooner are her eyes opened to the real character of this man, than her tenderness for us returns. I have little doubt that she came here to speak of me.

Perhaps, Rosalind, she has heard, and you too, of my engagement with Colonel Harrington?"

"Perhaps we have, Helen," replied Rosalind, laughing: "and I think it likely that you have partly read the riddle right, and that she may have taken advantage of her watchful husband's absence to express to Sir Gilbert her approbation,--which, you know, is necessary before you can be married, Helen."

"I know it is," replied Helen, colouring: "and if indeed she has given this consent, she has removed the only obstacle to our immediate marriage."

"Then heartily I wish you joy, sweet friend!" said Rosalind, kissing her. "Novice as I am, I found out long ago--did I not, Helen?--that you and Colonel Harrington, or Colonel Harrington and you--I really do not know how to express myself to spare your beautiful blushes, my dear friend,--but I am very, very glad of this--in every way it is so desirable. Poor dear little f.a.n.n.y, whose hair is gently creeping down into ringlets again, will find a fitter home with you, Helen, than Cartwright Park can be for her."

"How fast your fancy runs, Rosalind! How do we know that my mother's visit," (and Helen's bright blushes all forsook her as she spoke,)--"how do we know that it was not to forbid this marriage that she came, and not to permit it?"

"Two months ago, had the same thing occurred, I should have thought so: now I cannot think it. However, Helen, this suspense cannot last long.

Although Sir Gilbert forbad his servants to mention your mother's visit, for fear perhaps that it should reach the ears of her husband, you may depend upon it that he will inform you of it himself. But I must go, dearest!--I by no means wish this instance of positive rebellion to the commands of my guardian should be known. You must remember the command I long ago received not to carry on any correspondence with the family at Oakley; and this command has never been rescinded. So adieu, my dearest Helen!--I am quite persuaded now that nothing which you could write would reach me at the Park; but unless I am positively locked up, we may surely contrive to meet without my again performing this desperate feat of disobedience. Could you not wander in the fields sometimes?"

"I have done so constantly, dear Rosalind; but ever and always in vain."

"That has not been because you were forgotten; but I have seldom left poor Henrietta, and never long enough to have reached the fields. But now I certainly can manage this. I should like to bring poor f.a.n.n.y with me: but this I will not do, for fear of drawing down the anger of Mr.

Cartwright upon her--which she would not bear, I think, so well as I.--But ought I not, before I go, to ask for Lady Harrington?"

"Oh yes!--I am sure she would be so very glad to see you!"

A message was accordingly sent to my lady's closet, and the two girls requested to go to her there. Helen was not without hope that she would mention to her Mrs. Cartwright's visit; but she was disappointed: nor was there the slightest reason to believe from her manner that she was acquainted with it. She appeared exceedingly pleased at seeing Miss Torrington, and told her that whenever she could venture to repeat the visit without endangering the tranquillity of her present irksome home, they should all be delighted to see her.

It was now, however, high time for her to depart; but while returning through the breakfast-room in her way to the hall-door, she met Sir Gilbert. The remembrance of her last interview with him, and its abortive result, brought sudden blushes to her cheeks. She remembered, too, that she had never offered any explanation to Sir Gilbert for so suddenly changing her mind; and altogether she felt so painfully embarra.s.sed, that she hardly ventured to raise her eyes to his face. The voice in which he greeted her, however, soon chased every feeling of embarra.s.sment, or any thing else that was not agreeable, for it spoke nothing but welcome and hilarity.

"What!--The bright-eyed Rosalind? Come to look after the runaway?--But I hope you have not scolded her, Miss Torrington, for leaving you all in the lurch? Upon my honour, young lady, she was very right. Take my word for it, she never did a wiser thing in her life. But has she told you the sc.r.a.pe she has got into, Miss Torrington? Poor child!--no sooner ran away from a snake of a stepfather, than she has got noosed by a tiger of a father-in-law.--Ask my lady else. Has she told you all about it, my dear?"

"Perhaps not quite all, Sir Gilbert;--but quite enough to make me very happy, and wish her joy, and you too, most heartily."

"Thankye my dear;--I am very much obliged to you. I feel very much inclined to wish myself joy, I a.s.sure you, and my pretty daughter too.

Kiss me, Helen! Bless you, my dear child, and Charles too! That's a fine fellow, Miss Torrington! And bless your pretty f.a.n.n.y!--especially as her soul, you say, has found its way out of Limbo. It is a remarkably fine, pleasant day, Miss Torrington: such a day as this always puts one in spirits."

Rosalind turned to give a farewell embrace to her friend, whispering in her ear as she did so, "At least there has been no refusal of consent, Helen!--Adieu!"

CHAPTER XIV.

IN WHICH SUNDRY VISITS ARE MADE.

Whatever kind or remorseful feelings had led Mrs. Cartwright to make this unexpected visit to Oakley, she seemed to consider this one visit enough--for it was never repeated: and however tenderly she might watch over the fate of Helen, it was evident that she could only venture to do so secretly; for Sir Gilbert never mentioned her visit to any one. But, knowing she had been there, Helen's heart was satisfied when Sir Gilbert, joining her hand and his son's together, said, "Make haste, children;--get your courting done without loss of time; or you may find yourselves married before it is finished, and so continue lovers after the knot is tied,--a thing never heard of in civilised society."

"--But very likely, nevertheless, to happen to my Helen's husband, let her marry when she will," said Colonel Harrington.

To her affianced husband Helen could have no secrets, and accordingly he had been made acquainted with all that she knew respecting her mother's most unexpected appearance at Oakley. He drew the same inference from his father's joyous manner after it that Rosalind had done; and when Sir Gilbert alluded to their marriage as an event which was speedily to take place, no doubt remained either on his mind, or on that of the happy Helen, that Mrs. Cartwright, having learned, from some source which her husband could not impede, the proposal that had been made her, she had proved her maternal feelings not extinct, though they had seemed obscured, and ventured to make this secret visit for the purpose of formally giving her consent, and thereby removing the only obstacle to their marriage.

Instructions were accordingly immediately given by Sir Gilbert in person, for he declared that he must see the lawyer himself; and every thing relating to settlements was speedily put in train. The day after the baronet's return to Oakley, he sent to Miss Mowbray, requesting that she would meet him in the library; and having greeted her on her entrance with even more than usual affection, he said, "Do you think, my dear Helen, that you should have courage to make your mother a visit even in the lion's den? Do you think you could have courage to spend half an hour at the Park? I don't think it likely that Master Corbold has forgotten his horsewhipping as yet;--so I own I think you may venture."

"I will go anywhere, or do any thing that you think I ought to do, Sir Gilbert; and to see my dear mother and poor f.a.n.n.y once more would indeed be a pleasure to me. We have met Rosalind twice since you went to London, and she gives a very indifferent account of mamma's health."

"Poor thing! you shall go immediately, my dear child; if you have no objection. I have ordered the carriage. William and I will go in it with you as far as the Lodge, and there we will wait your return. If you delay it above an hour, we shall drive up to the house to inquire what is become of you; but you may return to us as much sooner as you like."

The carriage drove to the door as he spoke; but Helen kept it not waiting long, and on returning from her room to the hall found Colonel Harrington waiting to hand her into it. The two gentlemen stepped in after her, and in a moment she found herself on her road to _Cartwright_ Park, accompanied by Sir Gilbert and Colonel Harrington.

The strangeness of this came upon her so forcibly, that she exclaimed, almost unconsciously, "Is it possible!"

"I don't wonder at your saying that, my dear," said Sir Gilbert: "It is very natural. But you see, Helen, that as your mother has testified no dislike to your approaching marriage, or taken any steps to oppose it, I feel that she may expect, perhaps,--in short, I think it is very right that you should call upon her; and to prove that, angry as I have been, I do not bear malice, you may give her this little note from me, Helen.

But for your life, child, do not let that wretch her husband see her receive it. I believe, in my soul, he would be the death of her if he thought she could touch a bit of paper from me.--But the truth is, Helen, I think she has suffered enough,--and, in short my dear, I forgive her with all my heart: and I should like her to have this bit of a note from me, and to get a friendly word of answer in return, if I could. But for Heaven's sake be careful, child!"

"Fear not, Sir Gilbert, that I should run any risk of bringing more misery upon her than, I fear, she has already. I will be very careful,--and most thankful am I to be the bearer of a word of kindness to her from you!"

"Well, well, Helen, that's all right,--by-gones are by-gones. Here we are at the Lodge. Look at your watch, my dear; and remember, if you do not return in an hour, we shall come and fetch you. I fear nothing, for the fellow knows you are under the protection of the Oakley horsewhips; only it is as well to leave nothing to chance. If you cannot in any way escape the eyes of the villain, bring my note back again.--There, now, dear, get out. Good b'ye!"

The colonel was already at the door to a.s.sist her, and whispered earnestly as he quitted her hand, "You will not stay the full hour, Helen, if--you love me."

With a step as light as Camilla's, Helen traversed the Park, and, with a heart throbbing with many feelings, wound her way through sundry well-known twistings and turnings that brought her to the same door by which she had quitted the house on the memorable day of the Fancy Fair.

From what Rosalind had told her, she thought that if she could find her way unannounced to her mother's dressing-room, it was probable she should find her alone, and thereby be enabled to perform her errand without danger. In the stable-yard she saw one of the vicar's regenerated stable-boys; but he did not appear to take much notice of her, and she succeeded in reaching her mother's dressing-room without interruption.

She had calculated rightly. Mrs. Cartwright was sitting, or rather lying, alone in her dressing-room; for she was stretched upon a sofa, totally unemployed, and appearing so ill that Helen almost uttered a cry as she looked at her.