Mark Hurdlestone Part 26

"Hot-headed rash young men will swear, and foolish girls will believe them," said G.o.dfrey, putting his arm carelessly round her waist, and drawing her towards him. "So it has been since the world began, and so it will be until the end of time."

"Was all you told me, then, false?" said Mary, leaning her head back upon his shoulder, and fixing her large beautiful tearful eyes upon his face.

That look of unutterable fondness banished all G.o.dfrey's good resolutions. He kissed the tears from her eyes, as he replied,

"Not exactly, Mary. But you expect too much."

"I only ask you not to cease to love me--not to leave me, G.o.dfrey, for another."

"Who put such nonsense into your head?"

"William told me that you were going to marry Miss Whitmore."

"If such were the case, do you think I should be such a fool as to tell William?"

"Alas! I am afraid that it is only too true." And Mary burst into tears afresh. "You do not love me as you did, G.o.dfrey, when we first met and loved. You used to sit by my side for hours, looking into my face, and holding my hand in yours; and we were happy--too happy to speak. We lived but in each other's eyes; and I hoped--fondly hoped--that that blessed dream would last for ever. I did not care for the anger of father or brother--woe is me! I never had a mother. One kiss from those dear lips--one kind word breathed from that dear mouth--sunk from my ear into my heart, and I gloried in what I ought to have considered my shame. Oh, why are you changed, G.o.dfrey? Why should my love remain like a covered fire, consuming my heart to ashes, and making me a prey to tormenting doubts and fears, while you are unmoved by my anguish, and contented in my absence?"

"You attribute that to indifference, which is but the effect of circ.u.mstances," returned G.o.dfrey, somewhat embarra.s.sed by her importunities. "Perhaps, Mary, you are not aware that the death of my father has left me a poor and ruined man?"

"What difference can that possibly make in our love for each other?" And Mary's eyes brightened through a cloud of tears. "I rejoice in your loss of fortune, for it has made us equals."

"Not quite!" cried the young man, throwing her from him, as if stung by an adder. "Birth, education, the prejudices of society, have placed an eternal barrier between us. Impoverished though I be, I never can so far forget myself as to mate with a vulgar peasant!"

"Say that word again--that word of misery!" cried the unhappy girl, clinging to his arm. "Recall your many promises--the awful oath you swore on that fatal night, when I first yielded to temptation, when you solemnly declared, in the name of Almighty G.o.d, that the moment you were your own master, you would make me your wife."

"Mary," said G.o.dfrey, sternly, "do not deceive yourself--I never will make you my wife!"

"Then G.o.d forgive you, and grant me patience to bear my wrongs!"

murmured the poor girl, as she sunk down upon the ground, and buried her face in the dewy gra.s.s; while her heartless seducer continued his solitary walk to the Lodge.

CHAPTER XIV.

My mind is like a vessel tossed at sea By winds and waves--her helm and compa.s.s lost; No friendly hand to guide her o'er the waste, Or point to rocks and shoals that yawn beneath.--S.M.

The day after his uncle's funeral, as Anthony sat alone in the good rector's study, pondering over his recent loss, painfully alive to his present condition, and the uncertainty of his future prospects, he was informed by the servant that a gentleman wished to see him.

Since Algernon's death, he and G.o.dfrey had not met except at the funeral, in which they had a.s.sisted as chief mourners. He was very anxious to speak to his cousin, and consult with him about their private affairs; and he obeyed the summons with alacrity. Instead of the person whom he expected to see, a well-dressed intelligent-looking young man advanced to meet him.

"Mr. Anthony Hurdlestone," he said, "I hope you will not consider my present visit an intrusion, when I inform you that I am your near kinsman, the son of that Edward Wildegrave who held the office of judge for so many years in India, in which country he died about six years ago. My father and your mother were first cousins by the father's side.

Brought up in a distant part of England, I never had an opportunity of falling in with the only remaining branch of the Wildegrave family; and it was not until the death of my father, which left me an independent man, that I was even aware of your existence. A few months ago I bought the property of Milbank, in the parish of Ashton, which once belonged to my unfortunate uncle; and I heard your history from the wife of our farm servant, Ruth Candler. This led me to make many inquires about you; and Ruth's relations were fully confirmed by the statements of my lawyer.

His account of your early trials and singular position created in my mind such an intense interest in your fate, that I lost no time in riding over to offer my services, and a share of my house until you can arrange your plans for the future. I hope you will not refuse to grant me this favor. My offer is made in the sincerity of friends.h.i.+p; and I shall be deeply disappointed if you refuse to accept it."

"I will most thankfully accept it," said Anthony, his fine face glowing with pleasure at this unexpected meeting. "But are you certain, Mr.

Wildegrave, that my doing so will in no way inconvenience you?"

"Inconvenience me? a bachelor! Your society will be a great acquisition."

"And poor Ruth Candler--is she still living? She was a mother to me during my motherless infancy, and I shall be so glad to see her again.

As to you, Mr. Wildegrave, I cannot express half the grat.i.tude I feel for your disinterested kindness. The only circ.u.mstance which casts the least damp upon the pleasure I antic.i.p.ate in my visit to Ashton, is the near vicinity of my father, who may take it into his head to imagine that I come there in order to be a spy upon his actions."

"I know the unhappy circ.u.mstances in which you are placed; yet I think that we shall be able to overrule them for your good. However disagreeable your intercourse with such a man must be, it is not prudent to lose sight of him altogether. While you are in his immediate neighborhood, he cannot easily forget that he has a son. That artful designing old scoundrel, Grenard Pike, will do all in his power to keep you apart. Your living with me will not affect Mr. Hurdlestone's pocket; and his seeing you at church will remind him, at least once a week, that you are alive."

"Church! Can a man dest.i.tute of charity feel any pleasure in attending a place of wors.h.i.+p, that teaches him that his dearest enjoyment is a deadly sin?"

"It seems a strange infatuation; but I have remarked, that, let the weather be what it may, neither cold nor heat, nor storm nor s.h.i.+ne, ever keeps Mark Hurdlestone from church. He is still in the old place; his fine grey locks flowing over his shoulders, with as proud and aristocratic an expression on his countenance as if his head were graced with a coronet, instead of being bound about with an old red handkerchief, which he wears in lieu of a hat; the rest of his person clothed in rags, which a beggar would spurn from him in disdain."

"Is he insensible to the disgust which his appearance must excite?"

"He seems perfectly at ease. His mind is too much absorbed in mental calculations to care for the opinion of any one. If you sit in the family pew, which I advise you to do, you will have to exercise great self-control to avoid laughing at his odd appearance."

"I am too much humiliated by his deplorable aberration of mind to feel the least inclination to mirth. I wish that I could learn to respect and love him as a father should be respected and loved; but since my last visit to Ashton my heart is hardened against him. A dislike almost amounting to loathing, has usurped the place of the affection which nature ever retains for those who are bound together by kindred ties."

"If you were more accustomed to witness his eccentricities you would be less painfully alive to their absurdity. Use almost reconciles us to anything. If you were to inhabit the same house with Mark Hurdlestone, and were constantly to listen to his arguments on the love of money, you might possibly fall in love with h.o.a.rding, and become like him a wors.h.i.+pper of gold."

"Avarice generally produces a reaction in the minds of those who witness its effects," said Anthony. "I will not admit the truth of your proposition, for experience has proved that the son of a miser commonly ends in being a spendthrift."

"With some exceptions," said Frederic Wildegrave, with a good-humored smile. "But really, when he pleases, your father can be a sensible, agreeable companion, and quite the gentleman. The other day I had a long chat with him, partly upon business, partly from curiosity. I wanted to buy from him an odd angle of ground, about half an acre, that made an awkward bite into a favorite field. I went to him, and, knowing his habits, I offered him at once the full value of the land. He saw that my heart was set upon the purchase, and he trebled the price. I laughed at him; and we held a long palaver of about two hours, and never came one inch nearer to the settlement of the question. At length I pulled out my purse, and counted the gold down upon the table before him. 'There is the money,' I said. 'I have offered you, Mr. Hurdlestone, the full value of the land. You can take it or leave it.'

"The sight of the gold acted upon him like the loadstone upon the needle. He began counting over the pieces; his fingers literally stuck to them. One by one they disappeared from my sight, and when all were gone, he held out his hand and begged for one guinea more. I put the pen into his hand, and the paper before him; he sighed heavily as he signed the receipt for the full sum, and told me that I was a prudent young man; that I deserved to be rich; and must succeed in the world, for I knew as well how to take care of my money as he did. He then entered upon subjects of more general interest, and I was so much pleased with his talents and general information (chiefly obtained, I believe, from books, which are his sole amus.e.m.e.nt, and with which he is amply furnished from the library at the Hall,) that I invited myself to come over and spend an evening with him. The old fox took the alarm at this.

He told me that he was quite a recluse, and never received company; but that some evening, when I was quite alone, he would step in and take a cup of coffee with me--a luxury which he has never allowed himself for the last twenty years."

The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Grant. Young Wildegrave entered immediately upon the purport of his visit, and the rector, who had a very large family to support upon very limited means, readily consented to Anthony's removal to Ashton.

The morning was spent in preparing for his journey, and not without a feeling of regret Anthony bade adieu to his kind host, and the place in which he had pa.s.sed the only happy years of his life.

As his friend slowly drove through Norgood Park, and past Hazelwood Lodge, he turned an anxious gaze towards the house. Why did the color flush his cheek as he hastily looked another way? Juliet was standing in the balcony, but she was not alone; a tall figure was beside her. It was G.o.dfrey Hurdlestone, and the sight of him at such a time, and so situated, sent a pang of anguish through the heart of the young lover.

Frederic Wildegrave marked the deep dejection into which his companion had fallen, and rightly concluded that some lady was the cause. "Poor fellow," thought he, "has he, to add to his other misfortunes, been indiscreet enough to fall in love?"

Wis.h.i.+ng to ascertain if his suspicions were true, he began to question Anthony about the inhabitants of the Lodge, and soon drew from his frank and confiding cousin the history of his unhappy pa.s.sion, and the unpleasant misapprehension that had closed Captain Whitmore's doors against him.

"Well, Anthony," he said, "it must be confessed that you are an unlucky fellow. The sins of your father appear to cast a shadow upon the destinies of his son. Yet, were I in your place, I should write to Captain Whitmore, and clear up this foul stigma that your treacherous cousin has suffered to rest upon your character."

"No," said Anthony, "I cannot do it; I am too proud. She should not so readily have admitted my guilt. Let G.o.dfrey enjoy the advantage he has gained. I swore to his father to be a friend to his son, to stand by him through good and bad report; and though his cruel duplicity has destroyed my happiness, I never will expose him to the only friend who can help him in his present difficulties."

"Your generosity savors a little too much of romance; G.o.dfrey is unworthy of such a tremendous sacrifice."

"That does not render my solemn promise to my uncle less binding.

Forbearance on my part is grat.i.tude to him; and my present self-denial will not be without a reward."

Frederic was charmed with his companion, and could Anthony have looked into his heart, he would have been doubly convinced that he was right.

They struck into a lonely cross-country road, and half an hour's smart driving brought them to Wildegrave's residence. It was a pretty farm-house, surrounded by extensive orchards, and a large upland meadow, as smooth as a bowling-green. Anthony was delighted at the locality. The peaceful solitude of the scene was congenial to his feelings, and he expressed his pleasure in lively tones.