Preparatory to this, she threw back her long red curls from her face, and wiped her red nose, for it was February.

"f.a.n.n.y, you should occupy yourself, indeed you should, my dear. It's no use your attempting your embroidery, for your mind would still wander to him that is no more. You should read; indeed you should. Do go on with Gibbon. I'll fetch it for you, only tell me where you were."

"I could not read, Selina; I could not think about what I read, more than about the work."

"But you should try, f.a.n.n.y,--the very attempt would be work to your mind: besides, you would be doing your duty. Could all your tears bring him back to you? Can all your sorrow again restore him to his friends?

No! and you have great consolation, f.a.n.n.y, in reflecting that your remembrance of your brother is mixed with no alloy. He had not lived to be contaminated by the heartless vices of that portion of the world into which he would probably have been thrown; he had not become dissipated--extravagant--and sensual. This should be a great consolation to you."

It might be thought that Lady Selina was making sarcastic allusions to her own brother and to f.a.n.n.y's lover; but she meant nothing of the kind. Her remarks were intended to be sensible, true, and consolatory; and they at any rate did no harm, for f.a.n.n.y was thinking of something else before she had half finished her speech.

They had both again been silent for a short time, when the door opened, and in came the earl. His usual pomposity of demeanour was somewhat softened by a lachrymose air, which, in respect to his ward's grief, he put on as he turned the handle of the door; and he walked somewhat more gently than usual into the room.

"Well, f.a.n.n.y, how are you now?" he said, as he crept up to her. "You shouldn't brood over these sad thoughts. Your poor brother has gone to a better world; we shall always think of him as one who had felt no sorrow, and been guilty of but few faults. He died before he had wasted his fortune and health, as he might have done:--this will always be a consolation."

It was singular how nearly alike were the plat.i.tudes of the daughter and the father. The young man had not injured his name, or character, in the world, and had left his money behind him: and, therefore, his death was less grievous!

f.a.n.n.y did not answer, but she sat upright on the sofa as he came up to her--and he then sat down beside her.

"Perhaps I'm wrong, f.a.n.n.y, to speak to you on other subjects so soon after the sad event of which we heard last night; but, on the whole, I think it better to do so. It is good for you to rouse yourself, to exert yourself to think of other things; besides it will be a comfort to you to know that I have already done, what I am sure you strongly wished to have executed at once."

It was not necessary for the guardian to say anything further to induce his ward to listen. She knew that he was going to speak about Lord Ballindine, and she was all attention.

"I shall not trouble, you, f.a.n.n.y, by speaking to you now, I hope?"

"No;" said f.a.n.n.y, with her heart palpitating. "If it's anything I ought to hear, it will be no trouble to me."

"Why, my dear, I do think you ought to know, without loss of time that Lord Ballindine has been with me this morning."

f.a.n.n.y blushed up to her hair--not with shame, but with emotion as to what was coming next.

"I have had a long conversation with him," continued the earl, "in the book-room, and I think I have convinced him that it is for your mutual happiness"--he paused, for he couldn't condescend to tell a lie; but in his glib, speechifying manner, he was nearly falling into one--"mutual happiness" was such an appropriate prudential phrase that he could not resist the temptation; but he corrected himself--"at least, I think I have convinced him that it is impossible that he should any longer look upon Miss Wyndham as his future wife."

Lord Cashel paused for some mark of approbation. f.a.n.n.y saw that she was expected to speak, and, therefore, asked whether Lord Ballindine was still in the house. She listened tremulously for his answer; for she felt that if her lover were to be rejected, he had a right, after what had pa.s.sed between them, to expect that she should, in person, express her resolution to him. And yet, if she had to see him now, could she reject him? could she tell him that all the vows that had been made between them were to be as nothing? No! she could only fall on his shoulder, and weep in his arms. But Lord Cashel had managed better than that.

"No, f.a.n.n.y; neither he nor I, at the present moment, could expect you--could reasonably expect you, to subject yourself to anything so painful as an interview must now have been. Lord Ballindine has left the house--I hope, for the last time--at least, for many months."

These words fell cold upon f.a.n.n.y's ears, "Did he leave any--any message for me?"

"Nothing of any moment; nothing which it can avail to communicate to you: he expressed his grief for your brother's death, and desired I should tell you how grieved he was that you should be so afflicted."

"Poor Harry!" sobbed f.a.n.n.y, for it was a relief to cry again, though her tears were more for her lover than her brother. "Poor Harry! they were very fond of each other. I'm sure he must have been sorry--I'm sure he'd feel it"--and she paused, and sobbed again--"He had heard of Harry's death, then?"

When she said this, she had in her mind none of the dirty suspicion that had actuated Lord Cashel; but he guessed at her feelings by his own, and answered accordingly.

"At first I understood him to say he had; but then, he seemed to wish to express that he had not. My impression, I own, is, that he must have heard of it; the sad news must have reached him."

f.a.n.n.y still did not understand the earl. The idea of her lover coming after her money immediately on her obtaining possession of it, never entered her mind; she thought of her wealth as far as it might have affected him, but did not dream of its altering his conduct towards her.

"And did he seem unhappy about it?" she continued. "I am sure it would make him very unhappy. He could not have loved Harry better if he had been his brother," and then she blushed again through her tears, as she remembered that she had intended that they should be brothers.

Lord Cashel did not say anything more on this head; he was fully convinced that Lord Ballindine only looked on the young man's death as a windfall which he might turn to his own advantage; but he thought it would be a little too strong to say so outright, just at present.

"It will be a comfort for you to know that this matter is now settled,"

continued the earl, "and that no one can attach the slightest blame to you in the matter. Lord Ballindine has shown himself so very imprudent, so very unfit, in every way, for the honour you once intended him, that no other line of conduct was open to you than that which you have wisely pursued."

This treading on the fallen was too much for f.a.n.n.y. "I have no right either to speak or to think ill of him," said she, through her tears; "and if any one is ill-treated in the matter it is he. But did he not ask to see me?"

"Surely, f.a.n.n.y, you would not, at the present moment, have wished to see him!"

"Oh, no; it is a great relief, under all the circ.u.mstances, not having to do so. But was he contented? I should be glad that he were satisfied--that he shouldn't think I had treated him harshly, or rudely. Did he appear as if he wished to see me again?"

"Why, he certainly did ask for a last interview--which, antic.i.p.ating your wishes, I have refused."

"But was he satisfied? Did he appear to think that he had been badly treated?"

"Rejected lovers," answered the earl with a stately smile, "seldom express much satisfaction with the terms of their rejection; but I cannot say that Lord Ballindine testified any strong emotion." He rose from the sofa as he said this, and then, intending to clinch the nail, added as he went to the door--"to tell the truth, f.a.n.n.y, I think Lord Ballindine is much more eager for an alliance with your fair self now, than he was a few days back, when he could never find a moment's time to leave his horses, and his friend Mr Blake, either to see his intended wife, or to pay Lady Cashel the usual courtesy of a morning visit." He then opened the door, and, again closing it, added--"I think, however, f.a.n.n.y, that what has now pa.s.sed between us will secure you from any further annoyance from him."

Lord Cashel, in this last speech, had greatly overshot his mark; his object had been to make the separation between his ward and her lover permanent; and, hitherto, he had successfully appealed to her pride and her judgment. f.a.n.n.y had felt Lord Cashel to be right, when he told her that she was neglected, and that Frank was dissipated, and in debt. She knew she should be unhappy as the wife of a poor n.o.bleman, and she felt that it would break her proud heart to be jilted herself. She had, therefore, though unwillingly, still entirely agreed with her, guardian as to the expediency of breaking off, the match; and, had Lord Cashel been judicious, he might have confirmed her in this resolution; but his last thunderbolt, which had been intended to crush Lord Ballindine, had completely recoiled upon himself. f.a.n.n.y now instantly understood the allusion, and, raising her face, which was again resting on her hands, looked at him with an indignant glance through her tears.

Lord Cashel, however, had left the room without observing the indignation expressed in f.a.n.n.y's eyes; but she was indignant; she knew Frank well enough to be sure that he had come to Grey Abbey that morning with no such base motives as those ascribed to him. He might have heard of Harry's death, and come there to express his sorrow, and offer that consolation which she felt she could accept from him sooner than from any living creature:--or, he might have been ignorant of it altogether; but that he should come there to press his suit because her brother was dead--immediately after his death--was not only impossible; but the person who could say it was possible, must be false and untrue to her. Her uncle could not have believed it himself: he had basely pretended to believe it, that he might widen the breach which he had made.

f.a.n.n.y was alone, in the drawing-room--for her cousin had left it as soon as her father began to talk about Lord Ballindine, and she sat there glowering through her tears for a long time. Had Lord Ballindine been able to know all her thoughts at this moment, he would have felt little doubt as to the ultimate success of his suit.

XIII. FATHER AND SON

Lord Cashel firmly believed, when he left the room, that he had shown great tact in discovering Frank's mercenary schemes, and in laying them open before f.a.n.n.y; and that she had firmly and finally made up her mind to have nothing more to do with him. He had not long been re-seated in his customary chair in the book-room, before he began to feel a certain degree of horror at the young lord's baseness, and to think how worthily he had executed his duty as a guardian, in saving Miss Wyndham from so sordid a suitor. From thinking of his duties as a guardian, his mind, not unnaturally, recurred to those which were inc.u.mbent on him as a father, and here nothing disturbed his serenity. It is true that, from an appreciation of the l.u.s.tre which would reflect back upon himself from allowing his son to become a decidedly fashionable young man, he had encouraged him in extravagance, dissipation, and heartless worldliness; he had brought him up to be supercilious, expensive, unprincipled, and useless. But then, he was gentlemanlike, dignified, and sought after; and now, the father reflected, with satisfaction, that, if he could accomplish his well-conceived scheme, he would pay his son's debts with his ward's fortune, and, at the same time, tie him down to some degree of propriety and decorum, by a wife. Lord Kilcullen, when about to marry, would be obliged to cashier his opera-dancers and their expensive crews; and, though he might not leave the turf altogether, when married he would gradually be drawn out of turf society, and would doubtless become a good steady family n.o.bleman, like his father. Why, he--Lord Cashel himself--wise, prudent, and respectable as he was--example as he knew himself to be to all peers, English, Irish, and Scotch,--had had his horses, and his indiscretions, when he was young. And then he stroked the calves of his legs, and smiled grimly; for the memory of his juvenile vices was pleasant to him.

Lord Cashel thought, as he continued to reflect on the matter, that Lord Ballindine was certainly a sordid schemer; but that his son was a young man of whom he had just reason to be proud, and who was worthy of a wife in the shape of a hundred thousand pounds. And then, he congratulated himself on being the most anxious of guardians and the best of fathers; and, with these comfortable reflections, the worthy peer strutted off, through his ample doors, up his lofty stairs, and away through his long corridors, to dress for dinner. You might have heard his boots creaking till he got inside his dressing-room, but you must have owned that they did so with a most dignified cadence.

It was pleasant enough, certainly, planning all these things; but there would be some little trouble in executing them. In the first place, Lord Kilcullen--though a very good son, on the whole, as the father frequently remarked to himself--was a little fond of having a will of his own, and may-be, might object to dispense with his dancing-girls.

And though there was, unfortunately, but little doubt that the money was indispensably necessary to him, it was just possible that he might insist on having the cash without his cousin. However, the proposal must be made, and, as the operations necessary to perfect the marriage would cause some delay, and the money would certainly be wanted as soon as possible, no time was to be lost. Lord Kilcullen was, accordingly, summoned to Grey Abbey; and, as he presumed his attendance was required for the purpose of talking over some method of raising the wind, he obeyed the summons.--I should rather have said of raising a storm, for no gentle puff would serve to waft him through his present necessities.

Down he came, to the great delight of his mother, who thought him by far the finest young man of the day, though he usually slighted, snubbed, and ridiculed her--and of his sister, who always hailed with dignified joy the return of the eldest scion of her proud family to the ancestral roof. The earl was also glad to find that no previous engagement detained him; that is, that he so far sacrificed his own comfort as to leave Tattersall's and the _Figuranti_ of the Opera-House, to come all the way to Grey Abbey, in the county of Kildare. But, though the earl was glad to see his son, he was still a little consternated: the business interview could not be postponed, as it was not to be supposed that Lord Kilcullen would stay long at Grey Abbey during the London season; and the father had yet hardly sufficiently crammed himself for the occasion. Besides, the pressure from without must have been very strong to have produced so immediate a compliance with a behest not uttered in a very peremptory manner, or, generally speaking, to a very obedient child.

On the morning after his arrival, the earl was a little uneasy in his chair during breakfast. It was rather a sombre meal, for f.a.n.n.y had by no means recovered her spirits, nor did she appear to be in the way to do so. The countess tried to chat a little to her son, but he hardly answered her; and Lady Selina, though she was often profound, was never amusing. Lord Cashel made sundry attempts at general conversation, but as often failed. It was, at last, however, over; and the father requested the son to come with him into the book-room.

When the fire was poked, and the chairs were drawn together over the rug, there were no further preliminaries which could be decently introduced, and the earl was therefore forced to commence.

"Well, Kilcullen, I'm glad you're come to Grey Abbey. I'm afraid, however, we shan't induce you to stay with us long, so it's as well perhaps to settle our business at once. You would, however, greatly oblige your mother, and I'm sure I need not add, myself, if you could make your arrangements so as to stay with us till after Easter. We could then return together."

"Till after Easter, my lord! I should be in the Hue and Cry before that time, if I was so long absent from my accustomed haunts. Besides I should only put out your own arrangements, or rather, those of Lady Cashel. There would probably be no room for me in the family coach.".

"The family coach won't go, Lord Kilcullen. I am sorry to say, that the state of my affairs at present renders it advisable that the family should remain at Grey Abbey this season. I shall attend my parliamentary duties alone."

This was intended as a hit the first at the prodigal son, but Kilcullen was too crafty to allow it to tell. He merely bowed his head, and opened his eyes, to betoken his surprise at such a decision, and remained quiet.