Mark Hurdlestone Part 41

CHAPTER XXII.

The lyre is hush'd, for ever hush'd the hand, That woke to ecstacy its thrilling chords; And that sweet voice, with music eloquent, Sleeps with the silent lyre and broken heart.--S.M.

"Why do you look so sad, Juliet," said Captain Whitmore to his daughter, as they stood together at the open window, the morning after her perilous meeting with Mary Mathews in the park. "Have _I_ said anything to wound your feelings?"

"I thought that you would have been so glad to find him innocent, papa,"

said Juliet, the tears again stealing down her cheeks, "and I am disappointed--bitterly disappointed."

"Well, my girl. I am glad that the lad is not guilty of so heinous an offence. But I can't help feeling a strong prejudice against the whole breed. These Hurdlestones are a bad set--a bad set. I have seen enough of them. And, for your own happiness, I advise you, my dear Juliet, to banish this young man for ever from your thoughts. With my consent you never shall be his wife."

"Without it I certainly never shall." And Juliet folded her hands together, and turned away to hide the fresh gush of tears that blinded her eyes. "At the same time, papa, I must think that the ill-will you bear to an innocent person is both cruel and unjust."

"Juliet," said the Captain, very gravely, "from the earnestness of your manner, I fear that you feel a deeper interest in this young Hurdlestone than I am willing to believe. Answer me truly--do you love the lad?"

"Father, I do love him. I feel that my happiness is inseparably connected with his." This was said with that charming candor which was the most attractive feature in Juliet Whitmore's character. It had its effect upon the old man's generous nature. He could no longer chide, however repugnant to his feelings the confession she had just made. He drew her gently to his manly breast, and kissed away the tears that still lingered on her cheeks.

"My poor girl, I am sorry for you--very sorry. But I see no chance of your ever becoming his wife."

"I am contented to remain single, papa; I never can love another as I love him."

"Stuff and nonsense! What should hinder you? Why, child, you will get over this romantic pa.s.sion. Few people are able to marry the first person with whom they fall in love; and, in nine cases out of ten, they would be grievously disappointed if they did. This Anthony Hurdlestone may be a good young man, but his father is a very bad man. His children may inherit some of the family propensities, which you know, my little daughter are everything but agreeable. I should not like to be grandpapa to a second edition of Mark Hurdlestone, or even of his hopeful nephew, Master G.o.dfrey."

"Ah, my dear father," said Juliet, with great simplicity, "this may be all very true; but how do you know that we should have any children?"

This unexpected confession threw the old Captain, in spite of his grave lecture, into convulsions of laughter, whilst it covered his daughter's face with crimson blushes.

"Miss Juliet!" cried her aunt, who entered just in time to hear her niece speak her thoughts aloud, "I am perfectly astonished at you. Have you no sense of decorum?"

"Pshaw, Dolly!" said the Captain, still laughing. "It was quite accidental. Your over delicate ladies are the most indelicate people in the world. I am sure what the child said was perfectly natural."

"Nature, Captain Whitmore, is not the best book for young ladies to study," said Miss Dorothy, drawing herself up to her full height. "If we were to act entirely from her suggestions, we should reduce ourselves to a level with the brutes. Young ladies should never venture a remark until they have duly considered what they have to say. They should know how to keep the organ of speech in due subjection."

"And pray, Dolly, will you inform me at what age a lady should commence this laudable act of self-denial? for I am pretty certain that your first lesson is still to learn."

Oh, how poor Aunt Dorothy flounced and flew, at this speech! how she let her tongue run on, without bit or bridle, while vindicating her injured honor from this foul aspersion, quite forgetting her own theory in the redundancy of her practice! There never was, by her own account, such a discreet, amiable, well-spoken, benevolent, and virtuous gentlewoman!

And how the cruel Captain continued to laugh at, and quiz, and draw her out: until Juliet, in order to cause a diversion in her aunt's favor, pinched her favorite black cat's ear. But this stratagem only turned the whole torrent of the old maid's wrath upon herself.

"How cruel you are, Miss Juliet!" she cried, s.n.a.t.c.hing the ill-used darling to her bosom. "You never think that these poor animals can feel ill-treatment as severely as yourself. I despise young ladies who write poetry, and weep and whine over a novel, yet are dest.i.tute of the common feelings of humanity."

"Puss will forgive me," said Juliet, holding out her small white hand to the cat, which immediately left off rubbing herself against Aunt Dorothy's velvet stomacher, to fawn upon the proffered peace-offering.

The old Captain, who had remained for some minutes in deep thought, now suddenly turned from the window, and said:

"Juliet, would you like to visit London?"

"What, at this beautiful season of the year!" And Juliet left off caressing the cat, and regarded her father with surprise, not unmixed with curiosity.

"The flowers of the gay world, Julee, always blossom at the same time with those in the country; only the latter have always this advantage, that they are never out of season, and blossom for the day, instead of for the night. But, my dear child, I think it necessary for you to go.

The change of scene and air will be very beneficial to your health, and tend to invigorate both your mind and body. Now, don't pout and shake your head, Juliet; I do most earnestly wish you to go. The very best antidote to love is a visit to London. You will see other men, you will learn to know your own power; and all these idle fancies will be forgotten. Aunt Dorothy, what say you to the trip?"

"Oh, sir, I am always ready at the post of duty. Juliet wants a little polis.h.i.+ng--she is horribly countryfied. When shall we prepare for the journey?"

"Directly. I will write to her Aunt Seaford by tonight's post. She will be delighted to have Juliet with her. The little sly puss is the old lady's heir; but she is quite indifferent to her good fortune."

"I never covet the possession of great wealth," said Juliet. "Mark Hurdlestone is an awful example to those who grasp after riches. I do not antic.i.p.ate much pleasure in this London visit, but I will go, dear papa, as you wish it."

"There's a dear good girl!" and the old man fondly kissed her. "I wish I could see the rose's blush once more upon this pale face. You look so like your mother, Julee, it makes my heart ache. Ah! just so thin and pale she looked, before I lost her. You must not leave your poor old father in this cold-hearted world alone."

Juliet flung her arms round his neck. "Do not make my heart ache, dear papa, as I know not how soon we may part. You once loved poor Anthony,"

she whispered: "for Julee's sake, love him still."

"She will forget him," said the Captain looking fondly after her, as she left the room, "she will forget him in London."

And to London they went. Juliet was received by her rich aunt with the most lively demonstrations of regard. She felt proud of introducing to the notice of the gay world a creature so beautiful. Admired for her great personal attractions, and courted for her wealth, Juliet soon found herself the centre of attraction to a large circle of friends. But ah! how vapid and tasteless to the young lover of nature were the artificial manners and the unmeaning flatteries of the world.

Professions of attachment, breathed into her ears by interested admirers, shocked and disgusted her simple taste, and made her thoughts turn continually to the one adored object, whose candid and honest bearing had won her heart. His soul had been poured forth at the same shrine, had drunk inspiration from the same sacred fount, and his sympathies and feelings were in perfect unison with her own.

How could she forget Anthony whilst mingling in scenes so uncongenial to her own pursuits? Was he not brought every hour nearer to her thoughts?

Was she not constantly drawing contrasts between him and the worldly beings by whom she was surrounded! Did not his touching voice thrill more musically in her mental ear, when the affected ostentatious tones of the votary of fas.h.i.+on and pleasure tried to attract her attention by a display of his accomplishments and breeding? There was a want of reality in all she heard and saw that struck painfully upon her heart; and after the first novelty of the scene had worn off, she began to pine for the country. Her step became less elastic, her cheek yet paler, and the anxious father began to watch more closely these hectic changes, and to tremble for the health of his child.

"I am sick of this crowded place, of these sophisticated people, papa. I shall die here. Let me return to the country."

Frightened at the daily alteration in her appearance, the Captain promised to grant her request. Her aunt gave a large party the night before they were to leave town; and Juliet, to please her kind relative, exerted herself to the utmost to appear in good spirits.

"There has been a shocking murder committed in your neighborhood, Miss Whitmore," said the officer, with whom she had been dancing, as he led her to a seat. "Have you seen the papers?"

"No," said Juliet, carelessly. "I seldom read these accounts. They are so shocking; and we read them too much as matters of mere amus.e.m.e.nt and idle curiosity, without reflecting sufficiently upon the awful guilt which they involve."

"This is a very dreadful business indeed. I thought you might know something of the parties."

"Not very likely. We lead such a secluded life at the Lodge, that we are strangers to most of the people in the neighborhood."

"You have heard of the eccentric miser, Mark Hurdlestone?"

"Who has not?" and Juliet started, and turned pale. "Surely he has not been murdered?"

"Yes; and by his own son."

"His son? Oh, not by his son! His nephew, you mean?"

"His son. Anthony Hurdlestone. The heir of his immense wealth."

He spoke to a cold ear. Juliet had fainted.

How did that dreadful night pa.s.s over the hapless maiden? It did pa.s.s, however, and on the morrow she was far on her journey home.