The Monctons Volume I Part 27

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE MEETING.

"The next morning I arrived in York, and hastened to the house of Mr.

Mornington. I found the dear old gentleman ill in bed, but in his usual excellent spirits.

"On expressing my concern for his illness, he laughed at my long face; told me it was a trifle, and he should soon be well again. Alas, he was not a true prophet! In a few weeks I followed my worthy friend to his grave; and found myself at the age of one-and-twenty, my own master, and sole heir to his large property.

"The joy felt at this unexpected good fortune was more than counterbalanced by the loss of the generous donor. Gladly would I have resigned the wealth he so n.o.bly bequeathed me, if by so doing I could have recalled the dear old man to life. I was detained for several months in York, settling my affairs. I lost no time, however, in acquainting Cornelius, by letter, of my good fortune. I took this opportunity of mentioning my attachment to his sister, and urged him, if he valued my happiness, to plead with her in my behalf. His answer, though kind, was far from satisfactory to a young and ardent lover.

"He informed me that Charlotte was not insensible to my pa.s.sion; and that he knew that she entertained from me a sincere esteem; but it was entirely out of her power to accept any offer of marriage without the consent of her guardian; or she would lose the property bequeathed to her by her father; who had left this stringent clause in his will.

"For himself, he continued, nothing would give him greater pleasure, than to see his beloved sister united to a man whom he loved, and whom he considered worthy of her regard; particularly, as he found his own health daily declining, and was about to take a journey to the south of France, in the hope of deriving some benefit from change of climate and scene.

"He urged me to return immediately to London; to plead my own cause with Charlotte, and to spend a few days with him, before he left England; as he felt, that it was more than probable, that we might never meet again.

"The last mournful sentence decided me, and the next morning found me on the road to London; and I determined to take Moncton Park in my route, and seek a reconciliation with Sir Alexander. After what had pa.s.sed between me and Miss Moncton, I flattered myself that this would be an easy matter.

"I was no longer a poor orphan boy, dependent upon his bounty; but a well-educated, wealthy man, whose fortune was equal, if not greater than his own. There was no favour I could ask, or that he could bestow, beyond the renewal of that friends.h.i.+p which formed the delight of my boyhood, and of which I had been so suddenly deprived.

"As I rode up the n.o.ble avenue of oaks which led to the Hall, I felt so confident of success, so vain of my altered fortunes, so proud of the n.o.ble horse I rode, that my spirits grew buoyant, and my cheeks glowed with antic.i.p.ated pleasure.

"'Is Sir Alexander at home?' I eagerly demanded of the liveried servant that opened the door.

"'He is, sir. What name shall I send up?' I gave him my card, and was shown into the library, while he carried it up to his master.

"Years had fled away, since I last stood within that room, a happy thoughtless boy. How vividly did every book and picture recall the blessed hours I had pa.s.sed there, with Margaret and Alice, when the weather was wet, and we could not play abroad! It was in this apartment, with its carved oak wainscoting and antique windows of stained gla.s.s, in which we generally held our revels, turning over the huge folios in search of pictures.

"There was the Book of Martyrs, with all its revolting details of human bigotry; and its dreadful exhibitions of human endurance amidst scorn and agony. On these we gazed in mysterious awe; and as we turned over the horrible pages, we said to one another, 'that we were glad we were not Christians in those days.'

"Then, there was Descartes' ancient philosophy. A huge tome, full of quaint pictures of G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, and angels and devils, on which we were never tired or gazing; infinitely preferring the latter, with their curious tails and horns, to the former; whom we called, 'Fat lazy-looking children with wings.' 'Goldsmith's World,' 'Buffon's Natural History,' and the whole family of Encyclopedias, with their numerous prints, were among our chief favourites, and helped to beguile the long wet day. Sir Alexander often a.s.sisted himself at these exhibitions, and seemed as much pleased with showing us the pictures as we were in looking at them.

"From the cherished memories of former years, I was recalled by the entrance of the servant, who, with an air of rude familiarity, told me--'that Sir Alexander Moncton would never be at home to _Mister Philip Mornington_.'

"Thunder-struck with this unexpected blow, and writhing under a bitter sense of humiliation, I affected an air of contemptuous indifference and turned to depart; when a light grasp was laid upon my arm, and I encountered the dark soul-lighted eyes of Margaret Moncton, moistened with tears, and fixed upon me with a gaze of mournful interest,

"'Stay, Mr. Mornington. Dear, Philip! stay, I beseech you, for one little moment.'

"'Let me go, Miss Moncton. You deceived me into the belief that my reception would have been very different--I feel that I have no business here.'

"'That was your own fault, in deferring the _now_ of to-day, to the _future_ of the unknown to-morrow,' said Margaret, sadly. 'But you must stay; I insist upon your hearing me speak a few words before you leave this house.'

"I remained silent and pa.s.sive, and she continued--'There was a time, Philip, when your sister Margaret would not have asked anything of you in vain.' The tears flowed fast down her pale cheeks, and I felt the small hand which lay on mine tremble violently.

"'Dear Miss Moncton,' said I, gently leading her to a seat, and taking one beside her, 'you must make some allowance for mortified pride and wounded feelings. Time has not in the least diminished the affection and respect I have ever felt for you, and which your present kindness is not at all likely to lessen. I should, however, be deeply concerned, if your condescension should draw down upon you the displeasure of your father.'

"'Philip, I never do aught which I should be ashamed of my father witnessing. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, than to see him enter this room; and it is to lead you to him, that brought me here.'

"'He has once forbidden me his presence,' cried I, rising from my seat; 'I shall seek an interview with him no more.'

"'Let me seek it for you.'

"'What good would it answer?'

"Can you ask that question, Mr. Mornington? Remember all you owe to my father's kindness. I do not want to reproach you with benefits which he felt pleasure in conferring. But surely some feeling of grat.i.tude is due from one whom he loved for so many years as a son; whom I am certain he still loves; whom, if he could once see, would be as dear to him as ever.'

"'Could I feel that his anger was just, there is no concession, however great, Miss Moncton, that I would hesitate to make: I love and revere Sir Alexander, but he has taken up idle prejudices against me, and I am too proud--obstinate, if you will--to ask his forgiveness for what I never can look upon as a fault.'

"'One would think, Philip, that you were a Moncton, so hard and obdurate are their hearts,' said Margaret, weeping afresh. 'How gladly would I be the peacemaker, and reconcile you to each other, but you love strife for its own sake--are too proud to acknowledge an error.

Philip,' she cried, pa.s.sionately, 'do you remember my mother?'

"She had struck a chord which always vibrated intensely in my heart.

'How can I ever forget her? And yet, Miss Moncton, dear Miss Moncton, I do not wonder at your asking the question.'

"As I said this tears rushed to my own eyes, as a thousand sad recollections crowded into my mind. The mournful chamber--the bed of death--the calm, sweet face of the expiring saint; and her last solemn injunction, for me to look upon her grave when I came to be a man, and remember her who had loved me as a son. Had I done this? Oh, no! The world had obliterated her pure and holy image from my mind, and all her tenderness and love had been forgotten.

"I stood there before her daughter, whose mind was a perfect transcript of her own, a stricken, self-condemned creature, overcome by emotions which I struggled in vain to repress.

"Margaret perceived the advantage she had gained, and taking my pa.s.sive hand led me from the room.

"Slowly we paced, up the marble staircase into the drawing-room, where we found Sir Alexander reading at a table. He did not raise his head as we entered; and I could not help remarking the great change which a few years had effected in his appearance. His fine chestnut hair was nearly gray, his cheeks had lost the rich vermilion tint which had always given such l.u.s.tre to his fine dark eyes, and clear olive complexion. He was much thinner, and his lofty figure had taken a decided stoop between the shoulders. The handsome, generous baronet was but the wreck of what he once had been.

"'Papa,' said Margaret, stepping forward, and laying her small white hand upon his shoulder, 'I have taken the liberty of introducing a very old friend.'

"The baronet raised his eyes. The blood rushed into his pale face, as he replied with great asperity of look and tone, 'Margaret, you have taken an unfair advantage, and abused the confidence I reposed in you; I did not expect this from you.'

"'Dearest father, you have suffered my cousin Theophilus to prejudice you against one whom you once loved--whom my dear mother loved: let him speak for himself.'

"'Well, sir,' said the Baronet, holding out his hand, 'what have you to say in extenuation of your past conduct? You found it convenient, no doubt, to forget an old friend.'

"'My excellent, kind benefactor,' I cried, pressing his hand warmly between my own, 'how can you imagine me guilty of such base ingrat.i.tude?'

"'I judge your feelings, young man, by deeds, not by words. It is not for a boyish act of indiscretion I blame you. You thrashed an insolent lad of your own age for insulting you; and in your place I would have done the same. To appease his wounded pride, I demanded of you an apology, as the lad was my guest and near kinsman--no very great sacrifice of pride, one would have thought, to a penniless pensioner on my bounty. This, you audaciously refused, and, without waiting for my anger to cool (for I was not acquainted at the time with the real circ.u.mstances of the case) you abandoned your home, and sought protection in the house of my enemy--a man who had thwarted me in every way which lay in his power. His favour you gained by traducing your benefactor and friend; and you now come to me, after the lapse of years, to make a boast of your wealth. Philip Mornington!' he cried, rising from his seat, and drawing himself up to his full height, 'I loved you as a spirited, independent boy: I despise you, as a wealthy, treacherous, vain-glorious man!'

"'Dear papa,' said Margaret, greatly agitated, 'you cannot mean what you say.'

"'I do mean what I say. My words are plain and straightforward; let him refute them if he can.'

"'To such accusations as you have brought against me, Sir Alexander, there can be but one answer: they are false! I will not, however, lessen myself by attempting to vindicate my conduct from such base calumnies, but leave it to time to convince you of your error, and prove my integrity.'

"Without waiting for his reply, I left the room, with a bearing as haughty and inflexible as his own, and flinging myself into the saddle, rode from the Hall. Disgusted with myself for having yielded to the entreaties of my amiable foster-sister, I could not master my indignation sufficiently to call at the Lodge, but pursued my journey to town with a heavy heart.

"From Cornelius and his sister I received the most cordial and affectionate welcome; but my pleasure was greatly damped by the bad state of my friend's health: he looked so thin and consumptive, that I apprehended the worst. This impression gradually wore off; but a few months confirmed my fears. He was to commence his journey to Dover early the next morning; and after pa.s.sing a delightful evening in company with his aunt and Charlotte, I rose to take leave, as I well knew that my invalid friend retired at an early hour to bed.