Miles Tremenhere Volume I Part 4

He grasped her hand, and all the speeches ever formed could not have been half so eloquent, as his tremulous "I thank you deeply and sincerely, may your kind wish be heard;" and with a sigh, which we often grant to sympathy, though refusing it to our own hardened feelings, he turned away with Skaife, who shook Minnie kindly by the hand; it was a parting of three very kindred spirits. As they walked off, Mrs. Gillett rose from her occupation. "Your dear aunts sent me to meet you, darling," she said, glancing round cautiously, "and I always like to bring my pattens with me; I don't like damp gra.s.s, it don't agree with my rheumatics." At that moment Tremenhere paused in his walk, and turned round, as if irresolute whether to return, and perhaps say something left unsaid. Mrs. Gillett saw it, and, once more stooping, she gave a violent tug to her patten string; she had raised herself three inches upon those kind of young stilts, which even yet old-fas.h.i.+oned country folks wear. "Bless the tie!" she cried, bent nearly double, her back curved like a boy at leap-frog; "bless the tie, it always comes undone, or gets into a knot--I never see such strings!" Minnie saw nothing of this; she could not have comprehended Mrs. Gillett's policy; then, too, her thoughts were more knotted than even the patten tie;--who might unweave and straighten them? Alas! a few moments will often entangle the skein of our existence, knotting up hopes, fears, and cares, in one unravelable ma.s.s. Tremenhere turned, and walked on; Minnie had seen the action, and it troubled her, "What had he wished to say? would he tell Skaife? could she serve him in any way? poor fellow--poor Miles Tremenhere!" Every one knows the reputed relations.h.i.+p between friends.h.i.+p and love; they have a family likeness, and are not unfrequently mistaken for one another, till the latter pirouettes, and then we find the arrowless quiver, (_they_ remain with us,) and the extended wings,--who may clip them?

"Your aunts were very anxious about you," continued Minnie's companion, peering over her spectacles to read if the other had read _her_; "poor, dear ladies, I'm sure it's a great blessing for you to have such relations in your orphan state; and then your kind uncle, too, he is more sensible, and judges better what's good for you than any, as in course he should--in course he should," here she paused, and peeped at the thoughtful girl. "The lawyer Mr. Dalby's very well," ran on Mrs.

Gillett, "and so is Mr. Skaife--oh, he's a pious young man! and his sermons are quite edifying; but then, I've always remarked, your very pious young men don't make _very_ good husbands, or happy homes. A man should only think of his wife, and how can the clargy do that when they're the fathers of the whole parish? and I'm sure Mr. Skaife has enough to do hereabouts, for they are an ill broughtened-up set as ever I met with, and, as his housekeeper says, when he isn't writin' his sermons, he's _astonis.h.i.+ng_ some one," (_query_, admonis.h.i.+ng?) "Now, as to marrying him, with all his occupation, it might do very well for Miss Sylvia, or Miss Dorcas, but for a fine young lady like you, why, you should have horses, and carriages, and servants at command, and be the grandest lady in the neighbourhood. Then, as for Mr. Dalby, why, what with latty_cats_, _re_jectments, and briefs, it's but little time _he'd_ find to pay you proper attention."

"Mrs. Gillett!" exclaimed Minnie, so suddenly that she almost frightened her off her pattens, "don't you know Mr. Tremenhere? didn't you know him as a boy?"

"Bless me, Miss Minnie, what _are_ you talking of! don't speak of that dreadful young man, Miss; it's unbecoming a modest young lady to know there's such a person living."

"Mrs. Gillett!" and the girl stood still in amazement.

"To be sure," responded the woman, "he must be a bad character--wasn't his mother? and how could he be good?--Don't a cat always have kittens?"

"Mrs. Gillett," cried Minnie, again grasping her arm, and her eyes looked deepest violet with emotion. "You would be a very wicked woman to think what you say; that was Miles Tremenhere with Mr. Skaife. I pitied him before knowing him, and now, if I could by any means see him righted, I'd lend my hand to the good work, and I do hope some day he may be at the manor-house again!"

"That Mr. Tremenhere!" exclaimed the politic Gillett. "How boys _do_ alter, to be sure!" She evaded replying to the other things said; it would not do, too decidedly, to take any side of the question; the womb of Time is very prolific--we never know what offspring it may produce.

They were in the shrubberies of Gatestone by this time; a few moments'

silence ensued, interrupted only by the click-clack of Mrs. Gillett's pattens.

"Mrs. Gillett, why will you wear those horrid things on the gravel walks? you cut them up terribly," said a voice behind them. Minnie turned, her companion stopped, and stooped to disenc.u.mber her feet of their appendages, by which movement Juvenal nearly fell over her. She was pitched forward on her hands and knees by the concussion, with a scream; another picked her up--'twas the squire. Juvenal was evidently cross, or he would not have spoken so disrespectfully to his matron housekeeper.

"I hope I see Miss Dalzell well?" said Burton, offering his hand.

"Well, thank you," answered she, not appearing to notice it--he bit his lip, and dropped beside her.

"I really should like to know where you go every day--where you have been this morning, Minnie?" asked her uncle crossly.

"Shall I tell you, uncle?" she answered, and then, without giving herself a moment to consider possible consequences to herself or others, with the too hasty candour of a generous mind anxious to espouse the weaker side, she continued, addressing herself this time to Marmaduke Burton,--"I've been to Mary Burns's cottage, and there I met Mr. Skaife, and your cousin, Mr. Burton, Mr. Tremenhere." Certainly she created an effect; the squire tottered and became ghastly pale, Juvenal looked amazed and annoyed. "What--together?" he cried. "How came that about?

Where is Mr. Tremenhere? and how dare you become acquainted with that man?"

"Your surprise equals mine," said Burton, recovering himself partially, then added ironically--"Our young curate might do better composing his sermons, than becoming bear-leader to an impostor, and a man of Mr.

Tremenhere's character. As _cousin_, Miss Dalzell, allow me to disavow him; he is none such by law, and I have no desire to outstep any bounds to claim that enviable distinction."

"I only judge the law of humanity," she replied, in a slightly tremulous tone; she began to be afraid of the storm of such pa.s.sions as his face bespoke working in his frame. "And no man should be condemned for the faults--if faults there were--of his parents."

"If faults there were," said Burton, echoing her words. "Allow me, Miss Dalzell, to reject, in all politeness, the right your speech offers me, of standing in Mr. Tremenhere's position. He or I am an impostor, a claimant to an unjust t.i.tle of proprietors.h.i.+p; besides, there are more personal faults appertaining to that gentleman, at variance with my ideas of honour."

For an instant a doubt crossed her mind about Mary and Miles; could Burton allude to this? But her heart repudiated the thought.

"Did he become suddenly so wicked?" she calmly asked. "As boys together--as men, indeed--up to the period of his father's death, had he the deep hypocrisy to conceal all this?"

"Miss Dalzell seems well informed of my history," he said, through his half-closed teeth. "I cannot but feel flattered by the kind interest it evinces in me." He bowed low.

"Really, Minnie," said her uncle, "you have chosen a strange subject; pray, drop it. How could you have become acquainted with that man? This comes of your running about alone--it must be seen to, and quickly: Mrs.

Gillett!" The woman stepped forward at his call; and now she blessed her forethought and policy in having ignored Tremenhere's ident.i.ty!

"Mrs. Gillett," said her master, while the other two walked on in silence, "what do you know about this? You were with Miss Dalzell: where did you find her, and how?" The woman was quite calm under this criminal examination--she felt so sure of her innocence.

"I know nothing of it, master," she said decidedly: "I met Miss Dalzell, dear child, in the holly field; just as I stepped over the stile, my patten came undone; I was busy settling it; I saw Mr. Skaife and another gentleman, but I'm sure I couldn't swear to him; I never looked in his face--it isn't my custom so to do to them above me, 'specially gentlemen!" and she smoothed her virginal-looking ap.r.o.n, tied over her modest heart with wide tape strings.

Sylvia and Dorcas came out to meet the approaching group. "Where was the child?" demanded the former at the top of her voice. Juvenal looked, and was, much excited. "Mrs. Gillett found her," he replied, "with an improper--a most improper--character!"

"What a dreadful thing!" screamed Sylvia; "who was it?"

Dorcas was by the girl's side, calmly speaking, and inquiring the cause of her protracted stay, which had alarmed them. She knew, however, that Minnie was not in any wilful harm, yet her affection made her fearful of ill. We will leave them to their explanations, to which Mr. Burton was not a witness, having taken his leave hastily of all. Poor Minnie had a sad trial, and a severe lesson and lecture, the consequences of her warm heart and candour--two things, bad guides in this world of brambles; with these her garments would be, haplessly, frequently rent and disfigured.

We will ask our readers to step into the holly field with us, to where we left Skaife and Miles Tremenhere, both of them walking back in deep thought.

CHAPTER V.

From some ambiguous words dropped by Miles in the cottage, and during Minnie's stay with them, it will be remembered that Skaife was impressed with the idea that Tremenhere had, as a boy probably, loved Mary Burns, who had been a _protegee_ of his mother's at the manor-house; and the curate also thought that the other was aware of her sad fate. For some time the silence was unbroken, then Miles, suddenly turning towards his companion, said, like one awakening from a dream, "Pardon me, Mr.

Skaife, but I am an uncouth man, much alone, little in humanized society; my chief companions are stocks and stones, and the native inhabitants of wild nature; forgive me again, I had forgotten to thank you, which I do most sincerely, for your kindness to poor Mary Burns, and also to myself personally; few, indeed, would have had the courage to notice, and be thus publicly seen with one at so low a discount as I am in this neighbourhood."

"Believe me sincere, when I a.s.sure you, Mr. Tremenhere," rejoined the other, "that from all I have heard, and now seen, no one can more truly deplore your misfortunes than I do."

"Do you know them all?"

"I think, I believe I do," hesitated the curate; he feared uttering something painful.

"Do you know that for upwards of twenty-one years I was brought up at the manor-house, beloved by a father and mother, the best Heaven ever formed--oh! especially the latter; I can scarcely speak of her now." He paused, and seemed choking with emotion. "To be brief," he continued, after a pause, "in one year I lost all; she died first, my father soon followed her, and then, while my sorrow was still green, my cousin, Marmaduke Burton, put in a claim for the property, on the ground of my illegitimacy! I was stricken, I had not a word to offer, proof I had none to the contrary; my father's marriage had taken place, for _marriage there was_, at Gibraltar; my mother was Spanish, of not exalted parentage, I believe,--from thence sprung the great difficulty of proof. Only an obscure family to deal with, that ruffian Marmaduke gained all--the property was tied up until the event should be known; I had few wealthy friends--he, both friends and money. Most of my earlier days had pa.s.sed in studies abroad; I came only at stated periods to my home--I was a stranger among my own countrymen;--he had secured himself allies (I will not call them friends, of these he could have none); he was a.s.sisted too, by a greater scamp than himself, a mean, cold-blooded villain of the name of Dalby. In my bewilderment, my horror, at _her_ name--my pure, holy mother's name--being dragged forward for public scorn, I lost all nerve and power; then too, I was poor,--the result you know. Mr. Skaife, I am a wanderer--_he_, in my halls; but all is not lost yet. I may find my way to sunlight, even like the blind mole."

"And, Mr. Burton," asked the other, hesitatingly, "was he not a frequent visiter at the manor-house?"

"Why man, the reptile was there as my friend and brother; whenever I returned from my rambles, or school, in earlier days, 'twas 'Marmaduke'

and 'Miles' with us from boyhood's youngest hours; he was with me _soothing_, when she, my mother, died--and there, too, when I put on my orphan state of master and lord of the manor-house. A week afterwards the long prepared claim was put in; the morning he left for that worthy purpose, he shook me by the hand, and said as usual, 'Good bye old fellow, we shall meet soon;' and we did--_in court_."

"And it was at the manor he knew Mary Burns?" asked Skaife, deeply affected.

"Ay, at the old place she had been as companion, almost child to my mother, from her childhood. Then when her old mother became paralyzed, and lost her school, Mary went to reside with her in that cottage; but it was comfortable then. My mother, and a little of her own industry in fancy work, kept them. Alas, poor Mary! I loved her dearly, as ever man loved a sister, she was so exemplary a girl under many trials."

"I fancied," said Skaife, "I scarcely know why, but I fancied there had been a warmer attachment." To his own surprise, he found himself conversing with this almost stranger as with an old friend, so certain is it, that kindred souls know no time, to limit their flight to meet their fellow spirits. Tremenhere coloured even through the bronze of his dark complexion; at the last words he was silent some moments, and then said hastily, but not haughtily: "Mary was a playfellow, as a sister to me--I never loved her," and he seemed desirous of changing the subject.

This proud man appreciated the other's qualities and his goodness; with him he was no longer the cold, guarded person which circ.u.mstances had made him generally in his intercourse with all.

"It is a painful subject with you, I see," said Skaife, much embarra.s.sed how to proceed; "but my mind is greatly relieved on one point--I feared you had loved this poor girl; that not having been the case, my duty is easier, for one it is, to consult with you what had best be done for her."

"Yes, poor girl! I had for a moment lost sight of her case in other thoughts--selfish ones, too--we are such mere automatons to our ruling pa.s.sions. Poor girl! I hear that hopeful cousin of mine has ordered them to quit the cottage; so I presume they must--but where go? that's the question. I am so hampered myself by other cares, I scarcely know how to help them; could he not be prevailed upon to allow them to remain another six months--what do you think?"

Skaife's blood chilled within him; he felt like a disappointed man. Here was the person who had known Mary from childhood, almost a brother, so coolly wis.h.i.+ng her to remain on the sufferance of Marmaduke Burton, as he knew him, and believed the other too, equally enlightened on several points.

"No," he coldly said, "I do not think she can, or ought to remain under circ.u.mstances; think of the dreadful crime she has almost committed, Mr.

Tremenhere,--suicide!"

"True, but she has promised not to attempt that again. In our toiling pa.s.sage to the attainment of any object, we must drink many a bitter draught. She must try and submit for a while, I fear, to a few annoyances: poor Mary--what can I do?"

"Pardon me, Mr. Tremenhere," answered Skaife in a cold but decided tone; "with _my_ consent, as curate of this parish, she shall not remain. She might not commit suicide; but men are strange creatures, and the woman they cast from them to-day, they might kneel to, to-morrow, were she to appear indifferent; this girl shall never know the temptation such an act on his part might be."