Miles Tremenhere Volume I Part 14

"No, stay; pray, remain, Mr. Skaife," cried Dorcas. "I am glad you are here: you may perhaps exert your influence as a clergyman, as well as a friend, with Mr. Tremenhere."

Women who have never loved overlook and ignore many penalties attached to such chains round the heart; they are like a felon's irons, resounding with every step we take, and galling somewhere, especially when but little hope is linked with them. Such was poor Skaife's case, and something now whispered him, that that _little_ would soon be lost.

Her next words confirmed this fear; for, neither of them answering her last speech, she continued hastily, as if resolved to utter all the worst at once, addressing herself to Miles--"You are perhaps not aware, Mr. Tremenhere, that your most imprudent--most unfortunate meetings of late, with Miss Dalzell, have been discovered, and reported to all, but first to her uncle and guardian--my brother."

"I am aware of that," he articulated through his set teeth.

Skaife felt cold at heart, and he felt, too, the blood deserting his cheek. For an instant a movement of indignation arose against Miles, as if he had deceived him; then the justice of the man triumphed, and bitter as his regret, his awakening regret, was--for he felt some painful revelation was about taking place--he exonerated the other from all wrong towards himself, ignorant as he was of his affection for Minnie, and, even if he had been acquainted with it, bound by no friends.h.i.+p or honour to him, to act otherwise than his inclinations dictated.

"All is known," continued Dorcas, in a sad tone; "and my heaviest grief is, that her uncle should have taken, I fear, so ill-advised a step as the one of coercion with Minnie."

"Coercion!" exclaimed both Miles and Skaife in a breath.

"Yes; he has determined upon keeping her confined to her room, until you, Mr. Tremenhere, shall have quitted the neighbourhood, as the only means of separating you; but I fear he has done a rash thing with a girl of Minnie's high spirit."

Tremenhere rose hastily from his seat, and grasped the arm of his chair, as if to subdue his feelings; he only e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed "Oh!" but there were volumes of thought in that one word, and the resolute compression of his stern lip, as he half-smiled. Dorcas was looking thoughtfully on the ground. Skaife's eyes were fixed upon Tremenhere's face; he read his fate there, if her affection equalled his, in intensity and firmness.

Tremenhere caught his eye, and, smiling in friendly confidence, as seeming to say, "You shall know all," dropped silently into his chair.

"I have come," said Dorcas, more composedly, "to ask, to implore you, Mr. Tremenhere, by the friends.h.i.+p which no unfortunate circ.u.mstance has banished from my thoughts--to leave this place, and forget any foolish words which may have pa.s.sed between you and Minnie. Believe me, all pursuit will be vain--her uncle _never_ will consent."

Skaife looked anxiously for the reply. Tremenhere rose impetuously:--"Madam," he cried, "in what light am I to regard this visit, with which you have honoured me?--as a friendly one, or as one dictated by Mr. Formby?"

"I come at my own heart's dictating," she answered meekly, "to one whom I liked, even though a wayward, impetuous boy--to one whom I sincerely pity; but whom, nevertheless, I cannot countenance as a suitor to my niece."

"As all these I gladly welcome you, except when bearing the last prohibition," Tremenhere replied, as he took her hand gently, and pressed his lip upon it with deep respect. "And, as Miss Dalzell's much-loved aunt, I reverence you, dear madam; nevertheless, in all candour, I must not deceive you. If Miss Dalzell love me, as I now believe her to do, not all the uncles or guardians in the world, could keep her so carefully but that my love and perseverance should reach, to confirm her in her affection, by the a.s.surance of mine, unalterably hers!"

"Unless I am in great error," said Skaife, after a moment's intense thought, "the acquaintance between yourself and Miss Dalzell is of very recent date?"

"It cannot be of many weeks," answered Dorcas, clinging to the hope that Skaife's words implied, of its being little matured.

"What signifies date in love?" cried Tremenhere. "The heart rejects all such. The brightest flowers are those blus.h.i.+ng to light in half an hour's suns.h.i.+ne!"

"And they fade as soon!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Dorcas. "Oh, pray, Mr. Tremenhere!

relinquish this mad thought; or leave here for awhile: let time decide upon the durability of your affections."

"And leave her," he cried, with a scornful laugh, "to the tender mercies of a guardian, who, for so slight a seeming fault as half an hour pa.s.sed in an old ruin, with one she knew from childhood, can dare to use violence towards her? Oh, no! Had you, dear madam, unadvisedly done so, I would plead to your good sense and justice; but with men I war as a man should. What I may do, I know not; but whilst Miss Dalzell is confined on my account, and unjustly treated, I am bound by honour, as well as love, to stay and defend her."

"Then you knew one another long since?" said Skaife, sadly. With this admission from Miles, he saw every hope fade for himself.

"Oh, yes!" answered the other, and the voice grew gentle with the thought of that fair child; "when yet she was but a baby girl--a fair, flaxen-haired little thing; and, as we talked of those days together, year after year like melting icebergs faded away, and we stood side by side again in confidence and affection, with the sun s.h.i.+ning upon us!"

Skaife and Dorcas both simultaneously looked at each other; and the looks said, "All is over--'tis vain wrestling with fate!"

"Besides," continued Miles, as if reading their thoughts, "there is a fate in all things. Our meeting has been one; it was so pre-ordained."

"Do not let that urge you," said Skaife, in forlorn hope of influencing him. "All things are not ordained at our birth; we may turn many evils aside, though placed in our path, by decision; they are as temptations and stumbling-blocks--rush on heedlessly, and they overthrow us--avoid them, they will not follow, but, like daunted cowards, shrink back! This temptation may be to lure you from a n.o.ble thought!"

"By heavens! you do well to remind me of that; I had wellnigh overlooked it!" exclaimed Miles, standing up in all the majesty of his proud beauty. "This is a double incentive to win Miss Dalzell, to boldly stand on the ground her generosity has awarded me; in winning her, I shall struggle with redoubled energy to _prove_ myself what I _know_ I am! Thank you, Skaife--thank you; and you, dear madam, pray bear in mind, that whatever my acts may be, they shall be dictated in all true affection towards your niece, so that you, the generous, Christian woman towards myself, may approve me."

"'Tis vain urging you more, Mr. Tremenhere," she said, rising; "I can but now appeal to my niece's affection for me, and duty towards herself." She curtsied, and was turning away.

"Not thus," he cried, taking her hand. "Let the man be boy again, and take the hand in friends.h.i.+p once never refused him; think that all which may be done, will be done for Miss Dalzell's happiness. I do a.s.sure you I have never told her I loved her, nor has she confessed her's; but I am well-a.s.sured she has read mine, though _my_ hope may be too presumptuous. Let this comfort you, dear madam--Miss Dalzell holds the decision in her hands, it is not in mine!"

A faint hope rushed to Dorcas's heart. Skaife had none. He looked upon Miles, and felt she _must_ love so n.o.ble-minded a man, whose soul sat upon his brow, to record its worth in open day.

The men shook hands, Skaife promising to return soon; and, escorted by him, Dorcas quitted the farm-house, leaving Tremenhere a prey to many wild thoughts and schemes.

This day, after a lengthened interview with Juvenal, to confirm him in his severity and watchfulness, Marmaduke Burton quitted the manor-house.

Somehow he durst not remain after having told all to Juvenal. He remembered Miles's threats, and so he quitted for awhile, leaving Dalby to watch and report, as Juvenal also had promised to do; and, above all, keep the refractory Minnie under lock and key!

CHAPTER XIV.

We have said that Minnie was in a state of the greatest consternation when made acquainted with her uncle's stern resolution of coercion. At first she was too much pained to think--all power of reasoning had given way before the shock; she felt overwhelmed with shame, shame of herself--that much to be dreaded feeling in a young girl's heart. In Minnie's, after the power of memory returned, it created a sense of deep degradation, followed by recklessness--two dangerous things with which to start in that new phase in existence--love; for the latter would make her care little for consequences, the former bid her oppressed heart cling with double affection to the bosom where her head might lie in peace, love, and a true appreciation of her worth, and indignation for her wrongs. She sat and reviewed all her conduct, and then her swelling heart revolted against her uncle's injustice; for, in point of fact, she had but _once_ met Tremenhere by consent, on the fatal day in which they were discovered. We have seen their first acquaintance through Mr.

Skaife; then in Mrs. Gillett's room; subsequently, Miles had watched for her, 'tis true: but she was innocent of all, except concealing these meetings--and to whom confide them, knowing well how unpopular he was?

Once or twice he had met her even in her uncle's grounds, as she sat sketching; he took pleasure in directing her pencil. Then, when he proposed to sketch her favourite old ruin for her, if she would come, what harm could she see in the request? It was a fact, he ever seemed more, to her mind's eye, as a dear brother, friend, playfellow of childhood, than a man to be shunned for love's sake. Without a dream of harm, she went there; and it was that day, for the first time, that her heart awoke to its real state, and her own danger. We have seen how she flew, in confidence and love, to repose all in the bosom of her beloved aunt. We say all this, because we would plead Minnie's case with prudes and worldly-wise folks, who might shake their heads in grave reprehension, or accuse her of more error than, in honest truth, she was guilty of. All these scenes she reviewed in her quiet chamber; and then, the deep sense of wrong and degradation overwhelming her, she dropped on her knees, and, compressing her throbbing temples with her hands, wept long and bitterly. She was as a statue mourning over itself, as the base of its pedestal from which it had been rudely hurled in scorn and derision by some senseless mob. In this mood Dorcas visited her, and endeavoured to soothe, though even she blamed, her. Then Sylvia came, and inveighed against her brother's mad blindness; for, "Had not Dora confessed?--to be sure she had. Minnie was too good a girl to deceive any one, or compromise herself by meeting this Tremenhere!" Whereupon, Minnie, taking Dora's part, declared that she alone was to blame for all. Sylvia's anger arose at this "mock sentimentality," as she termed it. "It is positively absurd," she cried, "endeavouring to screen Dora!

All, but my foolish brother, know that you are quite innocent in this affair. A pretty thing, indeed, to accuse yourself of so disgraceful, unpardonable, indelicate an act, as privately meeting any man!"

This certainly did not soothe her; but the crowning of all was when Juvenal entered, and, reproaching her as a disgrace to them all, declared she should not quit her room until she consented to marry Marmaduke! Oh! then Minnie's spirit rebelled; she paced the room when he was gone, and nothing scarcely could have been desperate enough to satisfy her exasperation at that moment, by way of revenge! Poor girl, revenge, like curses, sends its chickens home to roost! Thus pa.s.sed the first day, and the second something like it, and then evening came.

Juvenal, like other little bodies, was a great man in a brief temporary power; he was master of Gatestone, and resolved to show all that he was so. All this was Burton's counselling; consequently, when the second day came, and Minnie still was obdurate, and firmly refused even to see Marmaduke Burton, should he come, her uncle resolved to tighten her chains, and so he forbade even Dorcas or Sylvia to see her, only Dame Gillett and himself! Even the squire had confidence in the housekeeper, he had made her frequent presents, for which she had been very grateful; moreover, he knew she had favoured his suit with Minnie; he and Juvenal--indeed all were more or less ignorant of her great error about Miles's affections being placed on Lady Dora--and none knew that she had not quite cast from her regards the "comely boy" Tremenhere. She certainly urged _for_ Marmaduke, when she went to Minnie's room, and as certainly did she ignorantly add fresh fuel to feed her love for his cousin, by beguiling the time to the prisoner, relating how Master Miles had come last night again to her room, frightening her out of her wits for fear he should be seen, and how he was nearly mad himself to see Minnie--poor young man! "just to speak, of course, of Lady Dora; and she didn't think that lady had behaved well to him, and she pitied him from the _very_ bottom of her heart," &c. &c. &c. Minnie was learning worldly caution; she saw Mrs. Gillett's error. All her protestations to her aunt Sylvia had been disregarded, in clearing her cousin of any imprudence, and Mrs. Gillett was Sylvia's echo in all. She at first, from sheer disheartenment, left this latter in her error, and then permitted her to remain in it, as she seemed resolved to do so. This, too, Tremenhere was doing, but with more active motives. Braving all risk the previous evening to see Mrs. Gillett, and speaking of his love, incline this woman to a.s.sist them to a meeting, provided Minnie would consent, he found, after five minutes' conversation, on what an erroneous path the housekeeper was walking, so he paused in his revelation of love. Might not this serve him better than confiding the truth? Men are generally less scrupulous than women in telling stories. Some rejoice in them; for nothing would Minnie utter one wilfully--she abhorred them as mean, and devil's snares too, ever leading somehow to sorrow; but Tremenhere only thought of how to accomplish a meeting with her. Mrs. Gillett's mistake might render it practicable; so he not only permitted her to think him in love, and beloved by Dora, but favoured the deception of judgment in every way! "Time will prove the real facts," he said to himself. "It cannot injure Lady Dora; Mrs. Gillett I _know_ to be one to confide in fearlessly, so let it pa.s.s!--'tis a straw of hope."

We are not, reader, painting a _rara avis_ in Tremenhere; but a n.o.ble-hearted, generous man--headstrong, full of wild pa.s.sions--but honourable in every dictate of his soul. Still, a mere mortal man, driven to desperation by various causes; and resolved, however it might be done, to _see_ Minnie, and know his fate from her own lips. If she loved him--then all would be clear before him. Mrs. Gillett, however, was too much alarmed then, to second any interview, but she gave him leave to come again in the dusk; no one was near, and she pitied the poor fellow! What _real_ woman is deaf to a tale of love and locksmiths?

if she can give nothing more, she awards her sincere sympathy. Mr.

Tremenhere left, and stealthily crept through the garden and shrubbery, gaining the fields beyond unperceived. Next evening he again sallied forth towards his confidant's. It must not be supposed that Mrs. Gillett felt annoyed at being thus sought--far from it; it increased her consequence, giving her _power_, which no one totally despises. She felt sometimes as much embarra.s.sed with all these various plots and plans in hand, as a charioteer in a ring, driving a dozen wild horses at once.

The only thing to prevent concussion, was the keeping them well in hand, with perfect self-possession; and these things she always kept in view.

Besides, she was not wronging her master's confidence in her: he was in error, and she felt she should rather be obliging him, by removing all fear about Miss Minnie, by favouring the loves of this man and Lady Dora. On this evening, Tremenhere, at ten o'clock, was to bring her a letter for Minnie, which she faithfully promised and purposed giving to her; all relating to lady Dora, of course, understood. At a quarter to ten, Miles stole through the shrubbery gate, of which she had given him a key. It was a lovely starlight night in June--no moon to betray his wandering--just light enough to lead him onward in safety. He closed the gate, and stood for a moment looking around--then a lover's thought--a perfect lover's one, arose in his mind, to go and look at Minnie's window. We always like to know the aspect of such things, in such cases.

He had learned from Minnie herself, which were her's. In a few moments he stood before them, on the soft turf, looking upwards. There was a light within, but the window was open--'twas a lattice; for Gatestone was not a modern built structure, but a good old family seat, like so many we meet with in the north of England, especially in Yorks.h.i.+re. It was the sort of lattice window from which one could have fancied a dame in the olden time, waving a snowy scarf to a departing warrior! Before this comfortable-looking, homely window, hung a curtain. This side of the house was facing the south, and a wide-spreading vine mingled with the ivy on the wall, creeping around it. There are many cruel temptations in life, thrown in our path. Now Tremenhere had merely, lover-like, stolen round to look upon his "ladye's" window; but whilst gazing upwards at it, something against the wall attracted his attention. He drew nearer, cautiously. This temptation was a ladder, which John Gardener had left, after nailing the vines. In an instant, a thought--a desire, crept into Miles's heart; this was naturally, to make use of this ladder! It was an impulse--an irresistible one. Cautiously he moved it nearer Minnie's window, and crept half-way upwards. A voice struck on his ear!--then another!--the first was Juvenal's, the last Minnie's. This latter seemed scarcely able to articulate distinctly from emotion. Some would have mounted higher, and listened. Miles's conscience forbade this. Though tricking's all fair in love, he felt it would not be strictly honourable; so down he crept again. The man's voice rose--the woman's seemed scarcely a breath--then a door closed violently, and all was for a moment still within that chamber, or rather, the little music-room; for this it was. Then the voice rose higher, and the girl was sobbing in her solitude and affliction. Juvenal closed the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket, sagely shaking his head as he did so. "She shall never quit that room till she consents to marry Burton!" he soliloquized, as he dropped step by step ploddingly down stairs, nodding as he did so. "Burton was quite right,"

he continued; "I have been too lenient--I'll be master now--it is just a little obstinacy; of course, I must know better than she can what's for her ultimate benefit. Her spirit will soon give in, and, as Burton says," (Juvenal was like the a.s.sinine tribe, he wouldn't move without a goad--Burton was his,) "she'll soon surrender; and as for that Tremenhere, why he will tire in a short time, when he finds it impossible to see her, and leave the neighbourhood. This good key in my pocket," here he smiled and nodded in perfect contentment and peace, "I defy him!" As _he_ uttered these last words, Tremenhere, regardless of every thing but poor sobbing Minnie, pushed aside the curtain, and darkened the cas.e.m.e.nt before stepping in. She uttered a faint scream of terror.

"There you may scream!" cried Juvenal, who heard her; "but I shall not let you out. Was there ever so obstinate a girl? Could any one have believed it?"

"Minnie, dear Minnie!" whispered Tremenhere, stepping in. "For Heaven's sake, hus.h.!.+ 'tis I, Miles," and he clasped the hand of the terrified girl.

"Go--go!" she cried, releasing her hand, and retreating in breathless alarm, she scarcely knew why. "Go! this is madness; it will ruin me should they discover you. Oh! Mr. Tremenhere, pray, pray, leave me!"

"Mr. Tremenhere!" he said sadly. "Is it indeed only this? Oh! then I have done wrong in coming, and doubly wrong in causing you so much suffering, which I am powerless to alleviate by my devotedness!"

"You wrong me--you do wrong me, _Miles_!" she exclaimed, much agitated; "but I am so overwhelmed with my uncle's cruelty, I scarcely know what I say."

As the word "Miles" fell from her lips, he was at her side, her hands in both of his again, and his deep, loving eyes bent down upon the trembling girl. "Do not speak again, if it should be to unsay that kind word, Minnie," he whispered; "but let me look at you silent, and watch the emotion on your face, whilst I tell you all I now can say. _That_ emotion will be my best answer. Minnie dear--_dearest_, I love you. I would not say these words when last we met; I feared lest I had mistaken a wilder, more evanescent feeling for this all-absorbing one; but our separation has proved me. I know myself. Had pa.s.sion alone guided me, I should not be here; _that_, with me, is fleeting as a star seeking the sea; but my love--oh! this is as the sea itself. It may seem for a while to roll outwards--lost in the world, as wave in wave; but it will flow back to break upon its own sh.o.r.es, and go wherever I may, my love will ever return to cast itself at your feet."

"And what can this love avail us, Miles?" she whispered timidly, fearful of saying too much. "We must part soon, and how may we ever hope to meet, with so many to oppose us?"

"Does this daunt you already?" he asked, smiling. "If you love me, I fear nothing; this a.s.surance is all I ask. Think well, dear girl, before you reply; for I do not seek a mere confession of your heart's prompting affections _now_. I ask you to ponder well, and say whether you are sure, Minnie, that above every man you ever may see, you can love me? whether, for my sake, you are willing, under all circ.u.mstances, to share my fate?"

"I have asked myself this, Miles," she said seriously, "before to-night; I need not pause to weigh my own affections; I never shall love any man as I love you."