Suddenly turning, Beauclerc exclaimed,--

"Borne with me, do you say? 'Tis I that have to bear--and by heavens!"

cried he, "more than I can--than I will--bear. Before to-morrow's sun goes down I will have the money."

"From whom?"

"From any money-lending Jew--usurer--extortioner--cheat--rascal--whatever he be. You drive me to it--you--you my friend--you, with whom I have dealt so openly; and to the last it shall be open. To no vile indirections will I stoop. I tell you, my guardian, that if you deny me my own, I will have what I want from the Jews."

"Easily," said his guardian. "But first, recollect that a clause in your father's will, in such case, sends his estates to your cousin Venables."

"To my cousin Venables let them go--all--all; if such be your pleasure, sir, be it so. The lowest man on earth that has feeling keeps his promise. The slave has a right to his word! Ruin me if you will, and as soon as you please; disgrace me you cannot; bend my spirit you cannot; ruin in any shape I will meet, rather than submit to such a guardian, such a----"

Tyrant he was on the point of saying, but Lady Cecilia stopped that word by suddenly seizing upon his arm: forcibly she carried him off, saying "Come out with me on the terrace, Granville, and recover your senses."

"My senses! I have never lost them; never was cooler in my life,"

said he, kicking open the gla.s.s door upon its first resistance, and shattering its remaining panes to fragments. Unnoticing, not hearing the crash, the general stood leaning his elbow on the mantel-piece, and covering his eyes with his hand. Helen remained near him, scarce breathing loud enough to be heard; he did not know she was there, and he repeated aloud, in an accent of deep feeling, "Tyrant! from Beauclerc!"

A sigh from Helen made him aware of her presence, and, as he removed his hand from his eyes, she saw his look was more in sorrow than in anger: she said softly, "Mr. Beauclerc was wrong, very wrong, but he was in a pa.s.sion, he did not know what he meant."

There was silence for a few moments. "You are right, I believe," said the general, "it was heat of anger----"

"To which the best are subject," said Helen, "and the best and kindest most easily forgive."

"But Beauclerc said some things which were----"

"Unpardonable--only forget them; let all be forgotten."

"Yes," said the general, "all but my determination; that, observe, is fixed. My mind, Miss Stanley, is made up, and, once made up, it is not to be changed."

"I am certain of that," said Helen, "but I am not clear that your mind is made up."

The general looked at her with astonishment.

"Your refusal is not irrevocable."

"You do not know me, Miss Stanley."

"I think I do."

"Better than I know myself."

"Yes, better, if you do yourself the injustice to think that you would not yield, if it were right to do so. At this very instant," pursued Helen, disregarding his increasing astonishment, "you would yield if you could reasonably, honourably--would not you? If you could without injury to your ward's fortune or character, would you not? Surely it is for his good only that you are so resolute?"

"Certainly!" He waited with eyes fixed, bending forward, but with intensity of purpose in his calmness of attention.

"There was something which I heard Mr. Beauclerc say, which, I think, escaped your attention," said Helen. "When you spoke of the new house he intended to build for himself, which was to cost so much, he offered to give that up."

"I never heard that offer."

"I heard him," said Helen, "I a.s.sure you: it was when you were both walking up and down the room."

"This may be so, I was angry _then_," said the general.

"But you are not angry now," said Helen.

He smiled, and in truth he desired nothing more than an honourable loophole--a safe way of coming off without injury to his ward--without hurting his own pride, or derogating from the dignity of guardian. Helen saw this, and, thanking him for his condescension, his kindness, in listening to her, she hastened as quickly as possible, lest the relenting moment might not be seized; and running out on the terrace, she saw Beauclerc, his head down upon his arms, leaning upon an old broken stone lion, and Lady Cecilia standing beside him, commiserating; and as she approached, she beard her persuading him to go to the general, and speak to him again, and say _so_--only say so.

Whatever it was, Helen did not stay to inquire, but told Cecilia, in as few words as she could, all that she had to say; and ended with "Was I right?"

"Quite right, was not she, Granville?"

Beauclerc looked up--a gleam of hope and joy came across his face, and, with one grateful look to Helen, he darted forward. They followed, but could not keep pace with him; and when they reached the gallery, they found him appealing, as to a father, for pardon.

"Can you forgive, and will you?"

"Forgive my not hearing you, not listening to you, as your father would?

My dear Beauclerc, you were too hot, and I was too cold; and there is an end of it." This reconciliation was as quick, as war, as the quarrel had been. And then explanations were made, as satisfactorily as they are when the parties are of good understanding, and depend on each other's truth, past, present, and future.

Beauclerc, whose promise all relied on, and for reasons good, none more implicitly than the general, promised that he would ask for no more than just what would do to put this Old Forest house in habitable trim; he said he would give up the new house for himself, till as many thousands as he now lent, spent, or wasted--take which word you will--should be again acc.u.mulated from his income. It was merely a sacrifice of his own vanity, and perhaps a little of his own comfort, he said, to save a friend, a human being, from destruction.

"Well, well, let it rest so."

It was all settled, witness present--"two angels to witness," as Beauclerc quoted from some old play.

And now in high good-humour, up again to nonsense pitch, they all felt that delightful relief of spirits, of which friends, after perilous quarrel, are sensible in perfect reconciliation. They left this melancholy mansion now, with Beauclerc the happiest of the happy, in the generous hope that he should be the restorer of its ancient glories and comfort. The poor old woman was not forgotten as they pa.s.sed, she courtesying, hoping, and fearing: Lady Cecilia whispered, and the deaf ear heard.

"The roof will not fall--all will be well: and there is the man that will do it all."

"Well, well, my heart inclined to him from the first--at least from the minute I knew him not to be my young lord."

They were to go home by water. The boat was in readiness, and, as Beauclerc carefully handed Helen into it, the general said:--"Yes, you are right to take care of Miss Stanley, Beauclerc; she is a good friend in need, at least, as I have found this morning," added he, as he seated himself beside her.

Lady Cecilia was charming, and every thing was delightful, especially the cold chicken.

CHAPTER XI.

No two people could be more unlike in their habits of mind than this guardian and ward. General Clarendon referred in all cases to old experience, and dreaded innovation; Beauclerc took for his motto, "My mind leadeth me to new things." General Clarendon was what is commonly called a practical man; Granville Beauclerc was the flower of theorists.

The general, fit for action, prompt and decided in all his judgments, was usually right and just in his conclusions--but if wrong, there was no setting him right; for he not only would not, but could not go back over the ground--he could not give in words any explanation of his process of reasoning--it was enough for him that it was right, and that it was _his_; while Beauclerc, who cared not for any man's opinion, was always so ingeniously wrong, and could show all the steps of his reasoning so plausibly, that it was a pity he should be quite out of the right road at last. The general hated metaphysics, because he considered them as taking a flight beyond the reach of discipline, as well as of common sense: he continually asked, of what use are they?--While Lady Davenant answered,--

"To invigorate and embellish the understanding. 'This turning the soul inward on itself concentrates its forces, and fits it for the strongest and boldest flights; and in such pursuits, whether we take or whether we lose the game, the chase is certainly of service.'"

Possibly, the general said; he would not dispute the point with Lady Davenant, but a losing chase, however invigorating, was one in which he never wished to engage: as to the rest, he altogether hated discussions, doubts, and questionings. He had "made up his f.a.got of opinions," and would not let one be drawn out for examination, lest he should loosen the bundle.

Beauclerc, on the contrary, had his dragged out and scattered about every day, and each particular stick was tried, and bent, and twisted, this way and that, and peeled, and cut, and hacked; and unless they proved sound to the very core, not a twig of them should ever go back into his bundle, which was to be the bundle of bundles, the best that ever was seen, when once tied so that it would hold together--of which there seemed little likelihood, as every knot slipped, and all fell to pieces at each pull.