"You'll be suited with a wife," punned Coleman.

"But suppose she should say 'No,'" continued Lawless, musing.

"Why, then, you'll be non-suited, that's all," returned the incorrigible Freddy; and making a face at me, which (as I was to all appearance immersed fathoms deep in -368-- Blackstone) he thought I should not observe, he sauntered out of the room, humming the following sc.r.a.p of some elegant ditty, with which he had become acquainted:--

"'If ever I marry a wife, I'll marry a publican's daughter, I 'll sit all day long in the bar, And drink nothing but brandy-and-water'".

Lawless having completed his arrangements to his satisfaction, hastened to follow Coleman's example, nodding to me as he left the room, and adding, "Good-bye, Fairlegh; read away, old boy, and when I see you again, I hope I shall have some good news for you".

Good news for me! The news that my sister would be pledged to spend her life as the companion, or, more properly speaking, the plaything, of a man who had so little delicacy of mind, so little self-respect, as to have allowed his feelings (for that he was attached to f.a.n.n.y, as far as he was capable of forming a real attachment, I could not for a moment doubt) to be laid bare to form a subject for Freddy Coleman to sharpen his wit upon; and to reflect that I had in any way a.s.sisted in bringing this result about, had thrown thorn constantly together--oh! as I thought upon it, the inconceivable folly of which I had been guilty nearly maddened me. Somehow, I had never until this moment actually realised the idea of my sister's marrying him; even that night, when I had spoken to my mother on the subject, my motive had been more to prevent her from lecturing and worrying f.a.n.n.y than anything else. But the real cause of my indifference was, that during the whole progress of the affair my thoughts and feelings had been so completely engrossed by, and centred in, my own position in regard to Clara Saville, that although present in body, my mind was in great measure absent. I had never given my attention to it; but had gone on in a dreamy kind of way, letting affairs take their own course, and saying and doing whatever appeared most consonant to the wishes of other people at the moment, until the discovery of Oaklands' unhappy attachment had fully aroused me, when, as it appeared, too late to remedy the misery which my carelessness and inattention had in a great measure contributed to bring about.

The only hope which now remained (and when I remembered the evident pleasure she took in his society, it appeared a very forlorn one) was that f.a.n.n.y might, of her own accord, refuse Lawless. -369-- By this time the precious doc.u.ment produced by the joint exertions of Lawless and Coleman must have reached its destination; and it was with an anxiety little inferior to that of the princ.i.p.als themselves that I looked forward to the result, and awaited with impatience the verdict which was to decide whether joy should brighten, or sorrow shade, the future years of Harry Oaklands.

CHAPTER XLVI -- TEARS AND SMILES

"Our doubts are traitors; And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt."

--_Measure for Measure_.

"'Well, every one can master grief but he that has it.'

'Yet say I he's in love.'

'The greatest note of it is his melancholy.'

'Nay, but I know who loves him.'"

--_Much Ado About Nothing_.

"Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love, Accompany your hearts."

--_Midsummer Night's Dream_.

READING law did not get on very well that day. De Lolme on the Const.i.tution might have been a medical treatise, for aught I knew to the contrary; Blackstone a work on geology. After a prolonged struggle to compel my attention, from which I did not desist until I became suddenly aware that, for the last half-hour, I had been holding one of the above-named ornaments to the profession the wrong way upwards, I relinquished the matter as hopeless, and, pulling my hat over my brows, sallied forth, and turned my moody steps in the direction of the cottage. Feeling unwilling in my then humour to encounter any of its inmates, I walked round to the back of the house, and throwing open the window of a small room, which was dignified by the name of the study, and dedicated to my sole use and behoof, I leaped in, and closing the sash, flung myself into an easy-chair, where, again involuntarily resuming the same train of thought, I gave myself up a prey to unavailing regrets. On my way I had encountered Freddy Coleman going to shoot wild-fowl, and he had accosted me with the following agreeable remark: "Why, Frank, old boy, you look as black as a crow at a funeral; I can't think what ails you all to-day. I met Harry Oaklands just now, seeming as much down -370-- in the mouth as if the bank had failed; so I told him your sister was going to marry Lawless, just to cheer him up a bit, and show him the world was all alive and merry, when off he marched without saying a word, looking more grumpy than ever."

"Why did you tell him what was not true?" was my reply.

"Oh! for fun; besides, you know, it _may_ be true, for anything we can tell," was the unsatisfactory rejoinder.

In order the better to enable the reader to understand what is to follow, I must make him acquainted with the exact _locale_ of the den or study to which I have just introduced him. Let him imagine, then, a small but very pretty little drawing-room, opening into a conservatory of such minute dimensions, that it was, in point of fact, little more than a closet with glazed sides and a skylight; this, again, opened into the study, from which it was divided by a green baize curtain; consequently, it was very possible for any one to overhear in one room all that pa.s.sed in the other, or even to hold a conversation with a person in the opposite apartment. Seeing, however, was out of the question, as the end of a high stand of flowers intervened--purposely so placed, to enable me to lie perdu in the event of any visitors calling to whom I might be unwilling to reveal myself. On the present occasion, the possibility of any one in the drawing-room seeing me was wholly precluded, by reason of the curtain already mentioned being partially drawn.

I had not remained long in thought when my reverie was disturbed by some one entering the outer room and closing the door. The peculiar rustle of a lady's dress informed me that the intruder was of the gentler s.e.x; and the sound of the footstep, so light as to be scarcely audible, could proceed from no other inmate of the cottage but f.a.n.n.y.

Even with the best intentions, one always feels a degree of shame in playing the eaves-dropper; a natural sense of honour seems to forbid us, unnoticed ourselves, to remark the actions of others; yet so anxious was I, if possible, to gain some clue to the state of my sister's affections, that I could not resist the temptation of slightly changing my position, so that, concealed by a fold of the curtain, and peeping between two of the tallest camellias, I could command a view of the drawing-room. My ears had not deceived me; on the sofa, up to which she had drawn a small writing-table, was seated f.a.n.n.y; her elbow was supported by the table before her, and her head rested -371-- on one of her little white hands, which was hidden amid the luxuriant tresses of her sunny hair. Her countenance, which was paler than usual, bore traces of tears. After remaining in this att.i.tude for a few moments, motionless as a statue, she raised her head, and throwing back her curls from her face, opened the writing-case and wrote a hurried note; but her powers of composition appearing to fail her before she reached the conclusion, she paused, and, with a deep sigh, drew from a fold in her dress a letter, which I instantly recognised as the remarkable doc.u.ment produced by the joint talents of Lawless and Coleman. As she perused this original ma.n.u.script, a smile, called forth by the singular nature of its contents, played for an instant over her expressive features, but was instantly succeeded by an expression of annoyance and regret.

At this moment a man's footstep sounded in the pa.s.sage, and f.a.n.n.y had scarcely time to conceal her letter ere the door was thrown open, and Harry Oaklands entered.

The change of light was so great on first coming into the room out of the open air, that, not until the servant had withdrawn, after saying, "You will find Mr. Fairlegh in the study, sir," was Harry able to perceive that, excepting himself, f.a.n.n.y was the sole occupant of the apartment.

"I hope I am not disturbing you," he began, after an awkward pause, during which his cheek had flushed, and then again grown pale as marble.

"The servant told me I should find Frank here alone, and that you and Mrs. Fairlegh were out walking."

"Mamma is gone to see the poor boy who broke his leg the other day; but I had a little headache, and she would not let me go with her." "And Frank?"

"Frank went out soon after breakfast, and has not yet returned; I think he said he was going to the Hall--he wanted to find some book in the library, I fancy--I wonder you did not meet him."

"I have not been at home since the morning; my father carried me off to look at a farm he thinks of purchasing; but, as Frank is out, I will not interrupt you longer; I dare say I shall meet him in my way back.

Good--good-morning!"

So saying, he took up his hat, and turned abruptly to leave the room.

Apparently, however, ere he reached the door, some thought came across him which induced him to relinquish this design, for he stood irresolutely for a -372-- moment, with the handle in his hand, and then returned, saying in a low voice, "No, I cannot do it!--f.a.n.n.y," he continued, speaking rapidly, as if mistrusting his self-control, "I am going abroad to-morrow; we may not meet again for years, perhaps (for life and death are strangely intermingled) we may meet in this world no more. Since you were a child we have lived together like brother and sister and I cannot leave you without saying good-bye--without expressing a fervent wish that in the lot you have chosen for yourself you may meet with all the happiness you antic.i.p.ate, and which you so well deserve."

"Going abroad?" repeated f.a.n.n.y mechanically, as if stunned by this unexpected intelligence.

"Yes; I start for the Continent early to-morrow morning: you know I am always alarmingly hasty in my movements," he added, with a faint attempt at a smile.

"It must be on account of your health," exclaimed f.a.n.n.y quickly. "Ah!"

she continued, with a start, as a new and painful idea occurred to her, "the fearful leap you took to save me--the exertion was too much for you; I knew--I felt at the time it would be so; better, far better, had I perished in that dark river, than that you should have endangered your valuable life."

"Indeed, it is not so, f.a.n.n.y," replied Oaklands kindly, and, taking her hand, he led her to the sofa, for she trembled so violently it was evident she could scarcely stand; "I am regaining strength daily, and Ellis will tell you that complete change of scene and air is the best thing for me."

"Is that really all?" inquired f.a.n.n.y; "but why then go so suddenly?

Think of your father; surely it will be a great shock to Sir John."

"I cannot stay here," replied Harry impetuously, "it would madden me."

The look of surprise and alarm with which f.a.n.n.y regarded him led him to perceive the error he had committed, and, fearful of betraying himself, he added quickly, "You must make allowance for the morbid fancies of an invalid, proverbially the most capricious of all mortals. Six weeks ago I was in quite as great a hurry to reach this place as I now am to get away from it--"

He paused, sighed deeply, and then, with a degree of self-control for which I had scarcely given him credit, added, in a cheerful tone, "But I will not thrust my gloomy imaginings upon you; nothing dark or disagreeable should be permitted to cloud the fair prospect which to-day has opened before you. You must allow me," he -373-- continued, in a calm voice, though the effort it cost him to preserve composure must have been extreme--"you must allow me the privilege of an old friend, and let me be the first to tell you how sincerely I hope that the rank and station which will one day be yours--rank which you are so well fitted to adorn--may bring you all the happiness you imagine."

"Happiness, rank and station! May I ask to what you refer, Mr.

Oaklands?" replied f.a.n.n.y, colouring crimson. "I may have been premature in my congratulations," replied he; "I would not distress or annoy you for the world; but under the circ.u.mstances--this being probably the only opportunity I may have of expressing the deep interest I must always feel in everything that relates to your happiness--I may surely be excused; I felt I could not leave you without telling you this."

"You are labouring under some extraordinary delusion, Mr. Oaklands,"

rejoined f.a.n.n.y, turning away her face, and speaking very quickly; "pray let this subject be dropped."

"You trifle with me," replied Oaklands sternly, his self-control rapidly deserting him, "and you know not the depth of the feelings you are sporting with. Is it a delusion to believe that you are the affianced bride of George Lawless?"

As he spoke, f.a.n.n.y turned her soft blue eyes upon him with an expression which must have pierced him to the very soul--it was not an expression of anger--it was not exactly one of sorrow; but it was a look in which wounded pride at his having for a moment believed such a thing possible, was blended with tender reproach for thus misunderstanding her. The former feeling, however, was alone distinguishable, as, drawing herself up with an air of quiet dignity, which gave a character of severity to her pretty little features of which I could scarcely have believed them capable, she replied, "Since Mr. Lawless has not had sufficient delicacy to preserve his own secret, it is useless for me to attempt to do so; therefore, as you are aware that he has done me the honour of offering me his hand, in justice to myself I now inform you that it is an honour which I have declined, and, with it, all chance of attaining that 'rank and station' on which you imagined I had placed my hopes of happiness.

You will, perhaps, excuse me," she added, rising to leave the room; "these events have annoyed and agitated me much."

"Stay!" exclaimed Oaklands, springing up impetuously, "f.a.n.n.y, for Heaven's sake, wait one moment! Am I -374-- dreaming? or did I hear you say that you had refused Lawless?"

"I have already told you that it is so," she replied: "pray let me pa.s.s; you are presuming on your privileges as an old friend."

"Bear with me for one moment," pleaded Oaklands, in a voice scarcely audible from emotion. "You have not refused him out of any mistaken notions of generosity arising from difference of station? In a word--for I must speak plainly, though at the risk of distressing you--do you love him?"

"Really--" began f.a.n.n.y, again attempting to quit the room, and turning first red, then pale, as Oaklands still held his position between her and the door.

"Oh! pardon me," he continued in the same broken voice, "deem me presuming--mad--what you will; but as you hope for happiness here or hereafter, answer me this one question--Do you love him?"

"No, I do not," replied f.a.n.n.y, completely subdued by the violence of his emotion.