Mabel Volume Iii Part 17

And, without waiting further orders, he took it as she directed, leaving Mrs. Villars vexed and annoyed, but too timid to remonstrate.

Caroline, however, was disappointed at the satisfaction of knowing that Hargrave was annoyed, for he never even alluded to the subject.

The next morning, Hargrave and Clair set off, early, on their journey to Aston. The day was bright as a May morning could be desired to be, and the country, through which they drove, full of lovely home scenery. They had hired a phaeton, and took their own pace across the country--Hargrave driving, and delighting his companion with one of his very best humours, now sparkling with wit, or laughing in the merriment of his heart, and then suddenly changing his tone to one of deeper earnestness, as they spoke of the future or the past.

It was not till the close of the evening, that they espied the well-known landmarks of the little village--the simple spire of the rustic church, and the many windowed halls of Aston Manor.

As they entered the village, Hargrave suffered his horse to bring his tired trot to a walk, while they both eagerly looked around. Hargrave tried to fancy what his bride would feel, on the first sight of a place so loved, and so changed--and he thought, perhaps, she would have liked the old place better after all.

"Still there is nothing sickly in Mabel's mind," he said to himself, as he looked round, and considered how very greatly it was improved in reality. Here, were well drained roads, raised pathways, and neatly built houses, which might have proved models for many an English gentleman's estate, well lighted, well ventilated, as they were, and slightly ornamented besides, with the simple porch, and the little gardens which surrounded them. It made his heart beat high with that quick sensation of pleasure, which is almost pain. And there, too, on the site of Mrs. Lesly's cottage, rose one, smaller indeed, but still sufficiently like to recall it, and as then, the lawn in front sloped down to the road--and all beside, even to the simple gateway, seemed like the time gone-by. And, for the first time that long day, Clair looked sad, for he remembered when he had first looked upon it--and he thought of the graceful child, in her almost infantine beauty, as she sat and twined, with so much care, her fading wreath of the wild lily.

Little did he then think, that her dying wreath--dying even as she twined it--might so soon be regarded as her own fit emblem.

But they have ascended the hill, and though it is May, and the day has been warm, there is a brisk column of smoke curling up from the parlour chimney of the dear old rectory. They got down at the Hargrave Arms, and leaving their phaeton, just as they are recognised by the landlord, stroll on together.

It looked so like home, that old garden, as they entered it, they could almost fancy they heard the good rector's step in the well-known walks, and by the neat bee-hives; but no, the shutters were closed, and through their creeks issued a small stream of bright light, just giving a sly hint of the comfort they left in the snug parlour within.

To raise the window of the gla.s.s-door, and to spring into the pa.s.sage, was but the work of one moment, and in the next, they were in the snug parlour itself, and shaking hands with Mr. Ware and his sister with a heartiness which nothing could exceed. And how the good man's face glowed when he welcomed his dear old pupil back, and, in the warmth of that one greeting, a.s.sured himself that he was "just as he used to be when he was a boy." And how, not altogether, or even one at a time, scarcely in any connection either, and certainly not as long stories are sometimes told, they made him understand why they had come, and all the changes which had taken place--and best of all, that Mabel was coming back to be mistress of Aston Manor, and Lucy--happy hearted Lucy--was to be Clair's wife, would all take too long to tell. But that they were a thoroughly comfortable and happy party, that night, there is no doubt.

Then, as it grew later, Mr. Clifford, the young architect, returned from a long day, spent with some friends, and Hargrave was delighted to see him.

"Your work has been done almost with the rapidity of magic," he said, speaking kindly to him, for it had been his first essay. "I was quite pleased with what I saw as we lingered through the village."

Mr. Clifford looked much gratified by his approval.

"I am come down," Hargrave continued, "partly for the purpose of letting these cottages to those most deserving, and most honest; and you, my dear sir, must a.s.sist me," he said, turning to Mr. Ware; "my bailiff has already given notice, that they should all a.s.semble in the large room, at the new inn, to-morrow, and you must come with me to see that I do justice."

"Most willingly, my dear Hargrave," replied Mr. Ware, whose countenance looked one continued beam of delight.

"And the next morning," continued Hargrave, "we are going to run away with you, as we cannot think of being married by any one but you."

Mr. Ware looked still more pleased, as he, at first, modestly declined, but very easily suffered himself to be persuaded to take the office a.s.signed him.

"Now then, I have another plan to propose," pursued Hargrave. "You all know the little hamlet of Cheswell, over the hill--and how, of late years, it has increased to look more like a village of itself--and you may, perhaps, know how valuable the stone quarries have become to this estate. Well, I am thinking of erecting there, a small church, together with a snug house for a clergyman, and school house for the neglected children of that neighbourhood; partly from the knowledge of the great utility of such a measure, and partly because I wish to give some public testimony of my respect for the ordinances I once abused."

He colored deeply, as he made this confession, and then continued, more rapidly--

"I intend to endow this church property--and if, by the time it is finished, Clair is in orders, I shall present him with it. Why not, my dear sir, let him remain with you, till that time. I am sure," he added, with a bow to Miss Ware, "my cousin Lucy cannot learn to keep house, at once with cheerfulness and economy, better anywhere than here."

"Delightful," exclaimed Mr. Ware. "Arthur, my dear fellow, I have long known your intention of leaving the army; and may venture to say that your plans have not been settled with lightness and inconsideration.

Will you come and live with us, for the present? Lucy can be with your aunt, whenever you may be forced to be long absent--you need not doubt that she shall be as welcome as you are."

"Should Lucy consent, I will gladly accept your offer, dear uncle,"

returned Clair; "but help me to thank Hargrave for this unexpected, unlooked-for kindness."

"No, no," said Hargrave, rising, and looking really embarra.s.sed--"oblige me, by not saying a word. Come with me--I am going to carry you with me to the Manor. I shall sleep there to-night, for the first time, for more than six years--come and help me to do the polite to my faithful housekeeper."

"Ah, Colonel Hargrave," said Miss Ware, as she pressed his hand with reverence, for, with all his faults, she never forgot that she owed to him the happy home they had enjoyed, for so many years, "you will be welcome there, indeed, for you are come back to make us all happy."

Hargrave looked still more embarra.s.sed, tried to say something, and failed--so seizing Clair by the arm, he hurried him off, without waiting for another word.

The first sound which greeted his ear, on the following morning, was a merry peal from the old church. He started up, and almost glad to find that Clair was still sleeping, he went, alone, to every part of the house, so well known, and so well remembered. Once again he felt master of his own--and the spell which had sent him forth a wilful wanderer was broken for ever.

With what pleasure he loitered from room to room, and then out to the green-houses and gardens; and, sometimes, he almost started, as some once familiar object distinctly recalled to mind the days of his boyhood. And then he would pause, to fancy how beautiful and how happy all would be, in the suns.h.i.+ne of his Mabel's presence.

But now Clair came to seek him, and they returned to a hearty breakfast, and then hurried off to the rectory, to fetch Mr. Ware and young Clifford to come with them to the inn, where already many an anxious peasant awaited them.

And when they did reach it, it was no light task to answer all claims, and equally to distribute favors, to the many who sought them.

Clair's head began to ache, many times, from the heated air of the large but well-filled room, and he, many times, strolled back to the rectory, to refresh himself.

Mr. Ware went back to his regular lunch, and dinner--and even Clifford found many opportunities of absenting himself; but still Hargrave sat on, apparently unwearied, as one after another sought his hearing, and laid claim to this or that disputed tenement. And his patience was well rewarded, by the satisfaction which he had afforded--for, towards the close of day, when the last claimant had been satisfied, the room was still thronged by those who were anxious to thank him for the attention he had shewn.

"Before I bid you good night," said Hargrave, rising as he spoke--and, as he did so, the fading rays of the evening sun played carelessly with his dark hair, and shed a light upon his face; "I have one question to ask you. Is there one among you, who will disapprove of my leniency in continuing this man," here he laid his hand upon the shoulder of his bailiff, who, with eyes fixed upon the ground, stood next him, and had been near him all day, "as my steward. If, since the night of the fire, he has done one wanton, or careless act--If he has neglected my interests by injuring you--speak, and he does not continue a day longer in his office; but, if not, I am not the man to close the gates of mercy against the repentant; and I say, that he shall have full opportunity of atoning for the past. If he has done wrong, in any one single instance, speak--if not, hold up your hands."

Every hand was raised, and the timid, but grateful expression, with which Rogers ventured to raise his eyes for the first time, seemed to say that the testimony thus given him was deserved.

"Very well," said Hargrave; "then he is my steward still, and long may he do his duty--but, my friends, remember, that I shall now be almost constantly with you, and I invite you all to dine on my grounds--on my wedding day, for I shall soon give Aston a mistress, who is already known, and loved, here. Mr. Clifford, who has already done so much for your comfort, will be kind enough to superintend your gaiety, and join you, I hope, in drinking my health. The only thing left me to ask, is your confidence, and your love, my good people, for I am come back to make a home among you."

The buzz of approbation which echoed through the long room, and even into the court-yard, beyond, might have satisfied him--but when, with a smile, he drew from his pocket a wig of s.h.a.ggy hair, of the reddest hue, together with the slouched hat of a traveller, and placed them upon his head, they exclaimed, as with one voice, "The stranger!" and almost rent the place with their acclamations, pressing, at the same time, so closely round him, that he was glad to escape by a side door, from their eager protestations--and, as he paced rapidly up the path, through the fields, to the manor, he could still hear, in the distance, the untired hum of many voices, talking in surprise over the little romance of which he had been the hero.

There were many happy hearts in Aston that night, but none happier than that of its repentant master.

CHAPTER XI.

O breathe those vows all hopefully, A blessing from above Is resting on the sacred bond Of hallowed human love.

CULVER ALLEN.

"As soon as you have prepared your drawings for the new church, we shall be glad to see them," said Hargrave, to young Clifford, as he took up the reins, and drove off from the rectory with Mr. Ware, and his nephew.

There was such a magic in that simple p.r.o.noun, 'we,' that he could not forget it long after it had pa.s.sed his lips, leaving the young architect to indulge a long day dream on his kindness, which was to end in the happiness of one other patient young being, long plighted to his uncertain fortunes. Hargrave had, indeed, been determined to be lavish of the blessings which he had, himself, so bounteously received, and already reaped the fruits of well-doing in the pleasure it gave him.

Before evening they reached Bath, where the good rector was received with unaffected delight by Mabel, and with much timid apprehension by his nephew's intended bride, who was, however, soon rea.s.sured by the kindness of his manner.

In the midst of all this busy happiness, Caroline and Maria continued to make themselves often remembered, and poor Mabel had to endure very much at their hands, and to experience so many complicated annoyances, that she looked to her marriage as to a haven of rest. She had received from Mr. Ware the box of plate, of which he had the charge, and presented it to her aunt, and, so far, had discharged all duty to her: but, though she had been cruelly injured, she could not help sincerely pitying her, since so much painful dissension had sprung up between her and her daughters; at the same time, that she must deeply feel the disappointment of all her schemes.

But time hurried on till the first of June, which had been fixed for the double marriages, and on that morning the bells of the venerable Abbey startled the pa.s.sers by with such a merry peal, as left little doubt of their import. It really would be difficult to calculate the exact quant.i.ty of Maca.s.sar oil and scents, which were expended in the two hours which Miss Lovelace spent at her toilet, on the occasion; but, certainly, her ringlets were in the very best order, when she arrived in Sydney Place, and the pink silk dress which had been presented to her, with its numberless tiny flounces, from her very waist to the ground, became her exceedingly. Unfortunately, the party was, she found, very deficient in beaux--but, as scandal was to her, almost as rich a source of amus.e.m.e.nt as flirtation; she contented herself by keeping her eyes open, and noting down facts in her memory with wonderful precision; subject, indeed, to a coloring of her own, with which she always heightened events in narration much in the same way as that in which the lights and shadows of a highly finished picture often far exceed those of reality.

She proved herself, indeed, a most useful bridesmaid, for Selina, who alone would consent to appear at church, required quite as much attendance as the brides, and, in this way, she learnt a great many secrets that morning, which were afterwards circulated no one could imagine how. In her readiness to do any thing for "dear Miss Lesly," she found out that she had all this time been sleeping in the servants'

attic, and in a room not even so well furnished as theirs; and she drew a strong contrast between its humble appearance, and the beautiful pearl bracelet which she fastened round her wrist--bearing testimony, in her own mind, to the rare beauty which, on the morrow, she piqued half her friends, by describing in the most glowing colors--because she alone had been present to see how lovely Mabel had looked in her simple bridal attire, standing in all the modest dignity of her nature, in that small, mean, garret chamber.

Then, as she stepped into the carriage, which was to take her to church, attended by the eccentric Mr. Morley, she noted, from the window, the exact degree of emotion shewn by the two brides as they left the house, Lucy being supported by Mr. Villars--nor were the liveries and horses, belonging to the fas.h.i.+onable equipage which lingered near the church door, forgotten, or the more modest looking one, which stood near it, and had been hired by Clare, for the occasion. Lightly did she trip up the aisle, and take her place, casting a pretty glance round her, which told her, at once, that a venerable man, with hair of silvery whiteness waited for them, by the altar, and that Hargrave and Clair, with their own chosen friends, were standing by, looking very handsome, indeed, but much more serious than she thought necessary; still, it became them very well, and made them look more interesting--she did not take time to consider the touching solemnity of the ceremony she was come to a.s.sist in, or to read in Hargrave's earnest manner the steadfast resolutions, which were never broken, of loving, and protecting, and confiding in that fair being, whose light step soon trod the silent aisle, and brought her, in all her trusting affection, to his side--in all the purity of untainted womanhood, to plight her single-hearted faith to him, and, without a doubt, to place the happiness of a life-time in his keeping.

How peacefully upon his wearied heart fell the blessing which was p.r.o.nounced with trembling lips, and how proudly he led her away when all was over, and whispered--