_ CHAPTER XXIV. 'I FELT SUCH A CULPRIT, YOU SEE'
'Still, it seems to me that love--true and profound
love--should be a source of light and calm, a religion
and a revelation, in which there is no place left for
the lower victories of vanity.'--AMIEL.
It cannot be denied that Cyril Blake had rather a hard time of it in the Doctor's study. Dr. Ross received him kindly; but his kindness was a trifle iced as he shook hands with the young man, and then seated himself in his big easy-chair. He groaned inwardly: 'I am an old fool,' he thought, 'ever to have brought him here. How confoundedly handsome the fellow is! if one could only honestly dislike him!' and then he assumed a judicial aspect as he listened to the culprit.
On the whole, Cyril acquitted himself fairly; he was very pale, and hesitated a little over his words; but he stated his case with sufficient eloquence. His love for Audrey bore him triumphantly even through this ordeal.
'You have reason to be angry with me,' he said with ingenuous frankness. 'I had no right to speak to Miss Ross until I had gained your permission to do so.'
'It was certainly a grievous mistake, Mr. Blake.'
'You are very kind not to call it by another name; I will own frankly it was a mistake. I must beg you to make allowances for a very strong temptation. Under some circumstances a man is not always master of himself.'
Dr. Ross half smiled. After all, this braw wooer was bearing himself with manly dignity.
'I hope you will believe me,' continued Cyril earnestly, 'when I say that I acted with no preconceived intention. My first declaration was perfectly hopeless. I expected nothing, asked for nothing; on the second occasion'--here he paused, and, in spite of his nervousness, a light came in his eyes--'circumstances forced me to speak.'
'Circumstances can be controlled, Mr. Blake. If you had come to me, for example----'
'It had been my intention to come to you, Dr. Ross, and to tender my resignation. I had made up my mind that it was my duty to leave this place. I had even spoken to my mother on the subject. "I love your daughter, and therefore it will not be right for me to stay." These were the very words I should have spoken to you, only--she--she--asked me not to go;' and here the young man's voice trembled.
Dr. Ross's magisterial aspect relaxed a little; his good heart, yearning only for his child's happiness, began to relent.
'I am quite sure of your affection for Audrey, Mr. Blake.'
'You may be sure of it. There is no proof you could ask that would be refused by me. If I thought--that is, if you and she thought that this would not be for her happiness, I should be ready, even now, to go away.'
'Thank you! I can quite believe that you mean what you say; but I shall not put you to so severe a proof. My child told me last night that her mind was made up--indeed, I understand that you and she are already engaged.'
'Only with your permission, sir.'
'I do not see how I am to withhold it when the girl tells me that her happiness is involved. I will speak to you plainly, Mr. Blake. You are certainly not in the position in which I should wish to see my future son-in-law. A man of your age, at the very beginning of his career, has no right to think of marrying.'
Cyril flushed.
'I do not think of it. I must work my way before such a thing would be possible.'
'You mean because you are poor. Poverty is, of course, a serious obstacle; but just then I was thinking more of position. I should hardly be willing for my daughter to marry a junior classical master. Her sister is in a far better position.'
'I shall hope not always to be a junior master, Dr. Ross.'
'True; and, of course, interest can do a great deal. I must speak to Charrington, and see what is to be done in the future. Perhaps you know that Audrey has a little money of her own?'
'I am sorry to hear it.'
'Their grandfather left them each five thousand pounds--as Audrey is of age, she is, of course, her own mistress. It was my intention to give her a couple of thousands on her marriage--Geraldine had it--anything else will only come to them on my death.'
'I wish you had not told me all this.'
Dr. Ross smiled.
'You are young, Blake,' he said, in his old friendly manner, 'or you would not be so romantic as to wish Audrey were penniless. You will find a few thousands very serviceable by and by, when, in the course of time, a house falls vacant. I am speaking of the future, mind--for I do not mean you to have Audrey for at least a couple of years; we are in no hurry to lose her, and you must make your way a little first. Now I think we have talked enough for the present. I will just have a word with Audrey, and send her to you.' Then he held out his hand, and Cyril grasped it with a word or two of gratitude.
Meanwhile Audrey, seated close to her mother on the drawing-room couch, was pouring out the whole story. She told it very comfortably, with her face resting against her mother's shoulder, and only interrupted by a tearful inquiry at intervals.
'Oh, Audrey! Oh, my darling child!' exclaimed Mrs. Ross, in a sighing sort of voice, when the girl had finished her recital.
'Are you sorry, mother? Why do you speak in that tone? You know you have always liked Cyril.'
'Yes, my dear,' but here Mrs. Ross sighed again; 'how can one help liking him, when he is so lovable? But, Audrey, what will your sister say--and Percival?'
'Poor dear mother! So that was the reason of that dolorous voice? Well, do you know,' with an engaging air of frankness, 'I am afraid we shall have a bad time with Gage; she will want me put in a strait-waistcoat and fed on a cooling diet of bread and water. Father will have to assure her that there is no insanity in the family; and as to Percival--oh, Percival's face, when he hears the news, will be a joke!'
'I must say I don't see the joke, Audrey. I am really afraid they will both be dreadfully shocked. You must tell them yourself. I would not take the news to Hillside for the world--and just now, too, when dear Geraldine ought to be spared all agitation.'
Audrey did not dare laugh; her mother was far too much in earnest.
'You must go yourself, Audrey,' she repeated; 'and I hope you will be very, very careful.'
'Don't you think it would be better to write, mother? I am so sure that Gage will disapprove and say cutting things--and of course it will not be pleasant. If I were to write her a sisterly little note, just telling her the news, and saying I would go to her to-morrow?'
And, after a good deal of consideration, Mrs. Ross was brought to own that this plan would be the best.
Mrs. Ross was so oppressed by the fear of Geraldine's disapproval that she could hardly give her attention to Audrey; and yet her motherly heart was stirred to its foundations. Audrey pretended to be hurt at last.
'Oh, do not let us talk any more about Gage!' she said impatiently; 'we must give her time to come round. I want you to think about me and Cyril. "Cyril"--is it not a nice name? And you must be very fond of him, and treat him like your own son. He is to be a second Michael.'
'Dear me, Audrey! I wonder what Michael will say; he can never have guessed anything before he went away.'
'I don't know, mother. Michael is very sharp, you know. It struck me once or twice that he was watching Cyril; but he liked him--he always liked him;' and here Audrey's voice was full of gladness. Michael's approval was necessary to her happiness: whoever else might choose to cavil at her choice, it must not be Michael--dear old Michael!
'I wish he would come back,' she said softly; for she felt a strange sort of longing to see his kind face again. She must write to him; she must tell him everything, just as though he were her brother. 'Mother,' interrupting herself, 'I want to tell you something very pretty that Cyril said yesterday. I was talking of you and father, and he said I must not be hurt, but he had fallen in love with you first. He thinks you the sweetest woman he has ever seen.'
'Dear fellow!' murmured Mrs. Ross; for the little compliment pleased her.
With all her loyalty to Geraldine's husband, there were times when he was a little formidable to her. Perhaps, in her secret heart, she felt herself too young to be the mother-in-law of a man of forty; and, in spite of Mr. Harcourt's real liking and respect for his wife's mother, he had never been guided by her. It had not been with him, as with younger men, to say, 'Your mother thinks so-and-so should be done.' Indeed, if the truth be told, Geraldine very rarely quoted her mother's opinions--she was so certain that Percival would contradict them.
'We are surely able to make up our own minds without consulting your parents, my dear,' he would say, in rather a crushing tone; for prosperity had fed his self-confidence, and it needed the discipline of trouble to teach him humility.
At that moment Dr. Ross entered the room, and at the first sight of his face Audrey sprang up, and he opened his arms to receive her.
'Oh, daddy, is it all right?'
'Well, it is as far right as it can be,' he replied, in rather an inexplicable voice. 'Emmie, my dear, this girl of ours has taken the bit between her teeth. Geraldine never gave us this trouble. She fell in love with the right man at the right time, and everything was arranged properly.'
'And now the right man has fallen in love with me,' whispered Audrey in her father's ear.
'But you have given your consent, John?' returned his wife, in a pleading tone. In spite of her fears about Geraldine, her sympathies were by this time enlisted on the side of the lovers. 'Of course, Mr. Blake is a poor man; but I daresay Dr. Charrington will push him when he knows how things are; and he is so nice and pleasant and clever, and dear Audrey really loves him.'
'Are you sure of that?' trying to catch a glimpse of his daughter's face. 'Girls make mistakes sometimes.' And then, as a faint protest reached him: 'Well, you will find the fellow in my study, if you want to talk to him. Perhaps you had better bring him in to see your mother.'
And Audrey withdrew, blushing like a rose.
'She is very fond of him, John,' observed Mrs. Ross, with a trace of anxiety in her tone, as though her husband's manner did not quite satisfy her. 'She has been talking to me for the last hour. Audrey never cared for anyone before. You remember young Silverdale and Fred Langton--they were both in love with her, and would have spoken if she had given them the chance; but she was as distant as possible.'
'Yes; and Fred Langton has fifteen hundred a year, and his father is a Member of Parliament. He is a nice fellow, too--only a little too stout for so young a man; but he is not the sort Audrey would fancy. Blake is a good fellow, and I liked him from the first,' continued the Doctor, in a musing tone; 'but I never should have picked him out for Audrey.'
'Perhaps you think him too young?' hazarded his wife.
'Yes; I should have liked her to have married an older man. They are too much of an age, and Audrey, with all her good-nature, has a will of her own. Blake is by no means a weak man; on the contrary, I should say he is strong; but he will have to give in to her.'
'Oh, I hope not!' for Mrs. Ross held the old-fashioned doctrines of wifely submission and obedience.
'They will not find it out for a little; but, if I am not mistaken, Blake will discover in time that he is somewhat handicapped. The girl has too much on her side: there is her position, her little bit of money, and her equality as regards age. Blake will have to steer his way prudently, or he will find himself among shoals.'
Mrs. Ross looked distressed; her husband's opinion was infallible to her. It never occurred to her that he might be occasionally wrong in his premises.
'Percival and Geraldine will be dreadfully shocked,' she replied. 'I quite dread the effect on Geraldine.'
Then Dr. Ross's mood changed.
'It is no business of hers, or of Harcourt's either,' he said, rather sharply. 'If Audrey has her parents' consent, she need not trouble herself about other people's opinions.'
Then Mrs. Ross knew that, whatever stormy discussion might be in store for her, she must not expect her husband to come to her assistance. He had more than once hinted that his son-in-law took rather too much upon himself, and on one occasion he had gone so far as to say that it was a pity Geraldine had married a man so much older than herself.
'Harcourt is a clever fellow, but he plays the autocrat rather too much. A man has a right to be master in his own house, but Woodcote is not Hillside.' And this speech had alarmed Mrs. Ross dreadfully.
'I wish your father cared for Percival as much as he does for Michael,' she said once a little plaintively to Audrey. 'Nothing Michael says or does is ever wrong in his eyes.'
'But there could not be two Michaels, mother,' returned Audrey; 'and really, Percival does lay down the law far too much. I don't wonder father was a little put out, for of course he is the older man.'
Meanwhile, the lovers were enjoying themselves after their own fashion. When Audrey entered the study, Cyril was standing in the bay-window with his back towards the door; but at the sound of her footstep he turned round quickly and crossed the room. As he took her hands he looked at her for a moment without speaking, and she saw at once that he was deeply moved. Then he put his arm round her very gently and kissed her. Somehow that silent caress touched Audrey, it was so much more eloquent than words; and when he did speak, his speech was very grateful to her ears.
'Your father has been so good to me.'
'Yes, I know. I told you yesterday how good he would be.'
'Ah, but I had a rather bad time of it at first,' he replied, shaking his head. 'Do you see that chair?' pointing to the high-backed oaken chair that always occupied the corner by the writing-table. 'Dr. Ross sat there, and I stood leaning against the mantelpiece, just opposite to him.'
'Do you mean that father did not ask you to sit down?'
'Oh no; he more than once pressed me to take a seat; but I felt it would be unbecoming for a culprit not to stand before his judge. I felt such a culprit, you see. When a man steals another man's dearest possession without asking his leave, he must regard himself as a sort of traitor.'
Audrey smiled; but as Cyril drew her gently down beside him on the wide cushioned window-seat, she made a faint protest.
'I think mother will be looking for us,' she said a little shyly.
'But not just now,' he pleaded. 'You will stay with me for a few minutes, will you not, darling? I could not talk to you before your mother, and I want to tell you what Dr. Ross said. In spite of my presumption, he has treated me most generously; but, Audrey,' half whispering her name, as though it thrilled him to say it, 'he says that he will not spare you to me for at least two years.'
'Oh no, of course not; I could not leave father and mother for a long, long time,' returned Audrey, somewhat troubled by this allusion to her marriage. It was one thing to be engaged and to make Cyril happy, but to be married was a far more serious consideration. 'If I had been asked, I should have said at least three years,' she added quickly.
For one instant the young lover felt himself wounded, but his good sense enabled him to hide this from her.
'You are right, dearest,' he said quietly. 'It would be mere selfishness for me to wish to take you away from this beautiful home until I have made one that shall in some degree be fitting for you. You will not expect a grand one; you know you have linked your lot to a poor man.'
'Of course I know it,' she replied calmly; 'you need not trouble about that, Cyril. I think I am different from other girls: I have never cared for wealth or luxury in the least. Woodcote is my home, and I love every stone of it; but I could be just as happy in a cottage.'
'If it were like the Gray Cottage, for example?'
'Oh, I have always been fond of the Gray Cottage!' she returned, smiling at him; and the look of those sweet gray eyes made the young man's pulses beat faster. 'I should be perfectly satisfied with a home like that. Why,' as he interrupted her with a rapturous expression of gratitude, 'did you think I should be hard to please? I am not a fine lady, like Geraldine!'
'You are the finest lady in the world to me!' was Cyril's answer. It took all his self-control to sit there, just holding her hand and listening to her. He felt as though in his joy he could have been guilty of any extravagance--as though he ought to be kneeling before her, his lady of delight, pouring out his very soul in a tumultuous, incoherent stream of words. But it spoke well for his knowledge of Audrey's character that he restrained himself so utterly: any such passionate love-making would have disturbed her serenity and destroyed her ease in his society; her inborn love of freedom, and a certain coyness that was natural to her, would have revolted against such wooing. Cyril had his reward for his unselfish forbearance when he saw how quietly she rested against his arm, how willingly she left her hand in his, as she talked to him in her frank, guileless way.
'I suppose your mother is pleased about this?' she said presently.
'You would have said so if you had heard us talking last night, until one o'clock in the morning! You have made more than one person happy, dear; my mother will be your debtor for life.'
'I wonder she is not a little jealous of me,' returned Audrey. 'She has had you so long to herself, I should think she would find me a little in her way.'
'Oh no! she is too grateful to you for making me happy. My darling, it would cause me utter misery if you and my mother did not get on. I have been her one thought all these years; it is not right, of course,' as Audrey's eyes expressed disapproval at this. 'I have had more than my fair share; but I am only stating facts from her point of view. If you had refused me--if we had gone away--she would have broken her heart; as it is, she is ready to worship you for your goodness to me.'
'You must take me to her by and by,' returned Audrey gently; 'but now, Cyril, indeed we must go to my mother;' and this time he made no objection.
Mrs. Ross welcomed him very nicely.
'Audrey tells me that I am to have another son,' she said softly, as she held out her hand to him.
'If you will only let me be one,' he returned gratefully, as he carried the soft motherly hand to his lips.
Audrey might be forgiven if she regarded Cyril's behaviour as perfect. As for Mrs. Ross, the tears started to her eyes at that act of reverential homage. She told Audrey afterwards that she felt as though she could have kissed him.
'What a pity you did not! I think Cyril would have liked it,' was Audrey's quiet answer.
She heard her mother inviting him to dinner as she turned to the tea-table, for the afternoon was nearly over. 'We shall be just by ourselves, Mr. Blake.'
'Will you call me Cyril now?' he asked in almost a whisper, and a blush came to Mrs. Ross's comely face.
'I will try and remember,' she said, in the kindest possible voice; and then he joined Audrey at the tea-table, and made himself very busy in waiting on them both, and they were soon as easy and comfortable as possible.
'Would you like my mother to come and see you to-morrow?' he asked presently, when lamps had been brought in and the October twilight had been excluded; 'that will be the correct thing, will it not, Mrs. Ross?'
'I suppose so,' she assented; but Audrey, with her usual impulsiveness, interrupted her:
'Why should you not take me across now?' she said; 'I think it is so stupid thinking about etiquette. Your mother is older than I, and it is for me to go to her.' Audrey spoke with decision, and Cyril looked enchanted.
'I did not like to propose it,' he said delightedly; 'will you really come? May I take her, Mrs. Ross?'
But Audrey did not wait for her mother's permission. She left the room, and returned presently in her hat and jacket.
'I am quite ready,' she said, speaking from the threshold; but she smiled as she said the words. Was she interrupting an interesting conversation? Cyril was on the couch beside her mother, and he was talking eagerly. Perhaps, though Audrey did not know it, he was making up for his previous self-restraint by pouring out some of his pent-up feelings.
'You understand?' he said as he stood up, and Mrs. Ross beamed at him in answer.
'Are you two having confidences already?' observed Audrey happily, as she looked on at this little scene; and Cyril laughed as he followed her into the hall.
'She is the sweetest woman in the world but one,' he said, as they went out together into the soft damp air; and Audrey, perhaps in gratitude for these words, took his arm unasked as she walked with him through the dark village street. _