The Belton Estate Part 33

"But then there is so much illness."

"I always insure."

Clara perceived that the subject of the cattle didn't suit the present occasion. When he had before been at Belton he had liked nothing so much as talking about the cattle-sheds, and the land, and the kind of animals which would suit the place; but now the novelty of the thing was gone,--and the farmer did not wish to talk of his farm. In her anxiety to find a topic which would not be painful, she went from the cattle to the cow. "You can't think what a pet Bessy has been with us. And she seems to think that she is privileged to go everywhere, and do anything."

"I hope they have taken care that she has had winter food."

"Winter food! Why Pudge, and all the Pudges, and all the family in the house, and all your cattle would have to want, before Bessy would be allowed to miss a meal. Pudge always says, with his sententious shake of the head, that the young squire was very particular about Bessy."

"Those Alderneys want a little care,--that's all."

Bessy was of no better service to Clara in her present difficulty than the less aristocratic herd of common cattle. There was a pause for a moment, and then she began again. "How did you leave your sister, Will?"

"Much the same as usual. I think she has borne the first of the cold weather better than she did last year."

"I do so wish that I knew her."

"Perhaps you will some day. But I don't suppose that you ever will."

"Why not?"

"It's not likely that you'll ever come to Plaistow now;--and Mary never leaves it except to go to my uncle's."

Clara instantly knew that he had heard of her engagement, though she could not imagine from what source he had heard it. There was something in the tone of his voice,--something especially in the expression of that word "now," which told her that it must be so.

"I should be so glad to go there if I could," she said, with that special hypocrisy which belongs to women, and is allowed to them; "but, of course, I cannot leave papa in his present state."

"And if you did leave him you would not go to Plaistow."

"Not unless you and Mary asked me."

"And you wouldn't if we did. How could you?"

"What do you mean, Will? It seems as though you were almost savage to me."

"Am I? Well;--I feel savage, but not to you."

"Nor to any one, I hope, belonging to me." She knew that it was all coming; that the whole subject of her future life must now be discussed; and she began to fear that the discussion might not be easy. But she did not know how to give it a direction. She feared that he would become angry, and yet she knew not why. He had accepted his own rejection tranquilly, and could hardly take it as an offence that she should now be engaged to Captain Aylmer.

"Mr. Green has told me," said he, "that you are going to be married."

"How could Mr. Green have known?"

"He did know;--at least I suppose he knew, for he told me."

"How very odd."

"I suppose it is true?" Clara did not make any immediate answer, and then he repeated the question. "I suppose it is true?"

"It is true that I am engaged."

"To Captain Aylmer?"

"Yes; to Captain Aylmer. You know that I had known him very long. I hope that you are not angry with me because I did not write and tell you. Strange as it may seem, seeing that you had heard it already, it is not a week yet since it was settled; and had I written to you, I could only have addressed my letter to you here."

"I wasn't thinking about that. I didn't specially want you to write to me. What difference would it make?"

"But I should have felt that I owed it to your kindness and your--regard for me."

"My regard! What's the use of regard?"

"You are not going to quarrel with me, Will, because--because--because--. If you had really been my brother, as you once said you would be, you could not but have approved of what I have done."

"But I am not your brother."

"Oh, Will; that sounds so cruel!"

"I am not your brother, and I have no right to approve or disapprove."

"I will not say that I could make my engagement with Captain Aylmer dependent on your approval. It would not be fair to him to do so, and it would put me into a false position."

"Have I asked you to make any such absurd sacrifice?"

"Listen to me, Will. I say that I could not do that. But, short of that, there is nothing I would not do to satisfy you. I think so much of your judgment and goodness, and so very much of your affection; I love you so dearly, that--. Oh, Will, say a kind word to me!"

"A kind word; yes, but what sort of kindness?"

"You must know that Captain Aylmer--"

"Don't talk to me of Captain Aylmer. Have I said anything against him? Have I ventured to make any objection? Of course, I know his superiority to myself. I know that he is a man of the world, and that I am not; that he is educated, and that I am ignorant; that he has a position, and that I have none; that he has much to offer, and that I have nothing. Of course, I see the difference; but that does not make me comfortable."

"Will, I had learned to love him before I had ever seen you."

"Why didn't you tell me so, that I might have known there was no hope, and have gone away utterly,--out of the kingdom? If it was all settled then, why didn't you tell me, and save me from breaking my heart with false hopes?"

"Nothing was settled then. I hardly knew my own mind; but yet I loved him. There; cannot you understand it? Have I not told you enough?"

"Yes, I understand it."

"And do you blame me?"

He paused awhile before he answered her. "No; I do not blame you. I suppose I must blame no one but myself. But you should bear with me.

I was so happy, and now I am so wretched."

There was nothing that she could say to comfort him. She had altogether mistaken the nature of the man's regard, and had even mistaken the very nature of the man. So much she now learned, and could tell herself that had she known him better she would either have prevented this second visit, or would have been careful that he should have learned the truth from herself before he came. Now she could only wait till he should again have got strength to hide his suffering under the veil of his own manliness.

"I have not a word to say against what you are doing," he said at last; "not a word. But you will understand what I mean when I tell you that it is not likely that you will come to Plaistow."

"Some day, Will, when you have a wife of your own--"