She was dressed in black, for she was, of course, still in mourning for her brother; but, in spite of her sable habiliments, she startled the parson by the brilliance of her beauty. There was a quiet dignity of demeanour natural to f.a.n.n.y Wyndham; a well-balanced pose, and a grace of motion, which saved her from ever looking awkward or confused. She never appeared to lose her self-possession. Though never arrogant, she seemed always to know what was due to herself. No insignificant puppy could ever have attempted to flirt with her.

When summoned by the servant to meet a strange clergyman alone in the library, at the request of Lord Cashel, she felt that his visit must have some reference to her lover; indeed, her thoughts for the last few days had run on little else. She had made up her mind to talk to her cousin about him; then, her cousin had matured that determination by making love to her himself: then, she had talked to him of Lord Ballindine, and he had promised to talk to his father on the same subject; and she had since been endeavouring to bring herself to make one other last appeal to her uncle's feelings. Her mind was therefore, full of Lord Ballindine, when she walked into the library. But her face was no tell-tale; her gait and demeanour were as dignified as though she had no anxious love within her heart--no one grand desire, to disturb the even current of her blood. She bowed her beautiful head to Mr Armstrong as she walked into the room, and, sitting down herself, begged him to take a chair.

The parson had by no means made up his mind as to what he was to say to the young lady, so he shut his eyes, and rushed at once into the middle of his subject. "Miss Wyndham," he said, "I have come a long way to call on you, at the request of a friend of yours--a very dear and old friend of mine--at the request of Lord Ballindine."

f.a.n.n.y's countenance became deeply suffused at her lover's name, but the parson did not observe it; indeed he hardly ventured to look in her face. She merely said, in a voice which seemed to him to be anything but promising, "Well, sir?" The truth was, she did not know what to say. Had she dared, she would have fallen on her knees before her lover's friend, and sworn to him how well she loved him.

"When Lord Ballindine was last at Grey Abbey, Miss Wyndham, he had not the honour of an interview with you."

"No, sir," said f.a.n.n.y. Her voice, look, and manner were still sedate and courtly; her heart, however, was beating so violently that she hardly knew what she said.

"Circ.u.mstances, I believe, prevented it," said the parson. "My friend, however, received, through Lord Cashel, a message from you, which--which--which has been very fatal to his happiness."

f.a.n.n.y tried to say something, but she was not able.

"The very decided tone in which your uncle then spoke to him, has made Lord Ballindine feel that any further visit to Grey Abbey on his own part would be an intrusion."

"I never--" said f.a.n.n.y, "I never--"

"You never authorised so harsh a message, you would say. It is not the harshness of the language, but the certainty of the fact, that has destroyed my friend's happiness. If such were to be the case--if it were absolutely necessary that the engagement between you and Lord Ballindine should be broken off, the more decided the manner in which it were done, the better. Lord Ballindine now wishes--I am a bad messenger in such a case as this, Miss Wyndham: it is, perhaps, better to tell you at once a plain tale. Frank has desired me to tell you that he loves you well and truly; that he cannot believe you are indifferent to him; that your vows, to him so precious, are still ringing in his ears; that he is, as far as his heart is concerned, unchanged; and he has commissioned me to ascertain from yourself, whether you--have really changed your mind since he last had the pleasure of seeing you." The parson waited a moment for an answer, and then added, "Lord Ballindine by no means wishes to persecute you on the subject; nor would I do so, if he did wish it. You have only to tell me that you do not intend to renew your acquaintance with Lord Ballindine, and I will leave Grey Abbey." f.a.n.n.y still remained silent. "Say the one word 'go', Miss Wyndham, and you need not pain yourself by any further speech. I will at once be gone."

f.a.n.n.y strove hard to keep her composure, and to make some fitting reply to Mr Armstrong, but she was unable. Her heart was too full; she was too happy. She had, openly, and in spite of rebuke, avowed her love to her uncle, her aunt, to Lady Selina, and her cousin. But she could not bring herself to confess it to Mr Armstrong. At last she said:

"I am much obliged to you for your kindness, Mr Armstrong. Perhaps I owe it to Lord Ballindine to--to . . . I will ask my uncle, sir, to write to him."

"I shall write to Lord Ballindine this evening, Miss Wyndham; will you intrust me with no message? I came from him, to see you, with no other purpose. I must give him some news: I must tell him I have seen you.

May I tell him not to despair?"

"Tell him--tell him--" said f.a.n.n.y,--and she paused to make up her mind as to the words of her message,--"tell him to come himself." And, hurrying from the room, she left the parson alone, to meditate on the singular success of his mission. He stood for about half an hour, thinking over what had occurred, and rejoicing greatly in his mind that he had undertaken the business. "What fools men are about women!" he said at last, to himself. "They know their nature so well when they are thinking and speaking of them with reference to others; but as soon as a man is in love with one himself, he is cowed! He thinks the nature of one woman is different from that of all others, and he is afraid to act on his general knowledge. Well; I might as well write to him! for, thank G.o.d, I can send him good news"--and he rang the bell, and asked if his bag had come. It had, and was in his bed-room. "Could the servant get him pen, ink, and paper?" The servant did so; and, within two hours of his entering the doors of Grey Abbey, he was informing his friend of the success of his mission.

x.x.xVII. VENI; VIDI; VICI [51]

[FOOTNOTE 51: Veni; vidi; vici--(Latin) Julius Caesar's terse message to the Senate announcing his victory over King Pharnaces II of Pontus in 47 B.C.: "I came, I saw, I conquered."]

The two following letters for Lord Ballindine were sent off, in the Grey Abbey post-bag, on the evening of the day on which Mr Armstrong had arrived there. They were from Mr Armstrong and Lord Cashel. That from the former was first opened.

Grey Abbey, April, 1844

Dear Frank,

You will own I have not lost much time. I left Kelly's Court the day before yesterday and I am already able to send you good news. I have seen Lord Cashel, and have found him anything but uncourteous. I have also seen Miss Wyndham, and though she said but little to me, that little was just what you would have wished her to say. She bade me tell you to come yourself. In obedience to her commands, I do hereby require you to pack yourself up, and proceed forthwith to Grey Abbey. His lordship has signified to me that it is his intention, in his own and Lady Cashel's name, to request the renewed pleasure of an immediate, and, he hopes, a prolonged visit from your lordship. You will not, my dear Frank, I am sure, be such a fool as to allow your dislike to such an empty b.u.t.ter-firkin as this earl, to stand in the way of your love or your fortune. You can't expect Miss Wyndham to go to you, so pocket your resentment like a sensible fellow, and accept Lord Cashel's invitation as though there had been no difference between you.

I have also received an invite, and intend staying here a day or two. I can't say that, judging from the master of the house, I think that a prolonged sojourn would be very agreeable. I have, as yet, seen none of the ladies, except my embryo Lady Ballindine.

I think I have done my business a little in the _veni vidi vici_ style. What has effected the change in Lord Cashel's views, I need not trouble myself to guess. You will soon learn all about it from Miss Wyndham.

I will not, in a letter, express my admiration, &c., &c., &c. But I will proclaim in Connaught, on my return, that so worthy a bride was never yet brought down to the far west. Lord Cashel will, of course, have some pet bishop or dean to marry you; but, after what has pa.s.sed, I shall certainly demand the privilege of christening the heir.

Believe me, dear Frank,

Your affectionate friend,

GEORGE ARMSTRONG.

Lord Cashel's letter was as follows. It cost his lordship three hours to compose, and was twice copied. I trust, therefore, it is a fair specimen of what a n.o.bleman ought to write on such an occasion.

Grey Abbey, April, 1844.

My dear lord,

Circ.u.mstances, to which I rejoice that I need not now more particularly allude, made your last visit at my house a disagreeable one to both of us. The necessity under which I then laboured, of communicating to your lordship a decision which was likely to be inimical to your happiness, but to form which my duty imperatively directed me, was a source of most serious inquietude to my mind. I now rejoice that that decision was so painful to you--has been so lastingly painful; as I trust I may measure your gratification at a renewal of your connection with my family, by the acuteness of the sufferings which an interruption of that connexion has occasioned you.

I have, I can a.s.sure you, my lord, received much pleasure from the visit of your very estimable friend, the Reverend Mr Armstrong; and it is no slight addition to my gratification on this occasion, to find your most intimate friendship so well bestowed. I have had much unreserved conversation to-day with Mr Armstrong, and I am led by him to believe that I may be able to induce you to give Lady Cashel and myself the pleasure of your company at Grey Abbey. We shall be truly delighted to see your lordship, and we sincerely hope that the attractions of Grey Abbey may be such as to induce you to prolong your visit for some time.

Perhaps it might be unnecessary for me now more explicitly to allude to my ward; but still, I cannot but think that a short but candid explanation of the line of conduct I have thought it my duty to adopt, may prevent any disagreeable feeling between us, should you, as I sincerely trust you will, do us the pleasure of joining our family circle. I must own, my dear lord, that, a few months since, I feared you were wedded to the expensive pleasures of the turf.--Your acceptance of the office of Steward at the Curragh meetings confirmed the reports which reached me from various quarters. My ward's fortune was then not very considerable; and, actuated by an uncle's affection for his niece as well as a guardian's caution for his ward, I conceived it my duty to ascertain whether a withdrawal from the engagement in contemplation between Miss Wyndham and yourself would be detrimental to her happiness. I found that my ward's views agreed with my own. She thought her own fortune insufficient, seeing that your habits were then expensive: and, perhaps, not truly knowing the intensity of her own affection, she coincided in my views. You are acquainted with the result. These causes have operated in inducing me to hope that I may still welcome you by the hand as my dear niece's husband. Her fortune is very greatly increased; your character is--I will not say altered--is now fixed and established. And, lastly and chiefly, I find--I blush, my lord, to tell a lady's secret--that my ward's happiness still depends on you.

I am sure, my dear lord, I need not say more. We shall be delighted to see you at your earliest convenience. We wish that you could have come to us before your friend left, but I regret to learn from him that his parochial duties preclude the possibility of his staying with us beyond Thursday.

I shall anxiously wait for your reply. In the meantime I beg to a.s.sure you, with the joint kind remembrances of all our party, that I am,

Most faithfully yours,

CASHEL.

Mr Armstrong descended to the drawing-room, before dinner, looking most respectable, with a stiff white tie and the new suit expressly prepared for the occasion. He was introduced to Lady Cashel and Lady Selina as a valued friend of Lord Ballindine, and was received, by the former at least, in a most flattering manner. Lady Selina had hardly reconciled herself to the return of Lord Ballindine. It was from no envy at her cousin's happiness; she was really too high-minded, and too falsely proud, also, to envy anyone. But it was the harsh conviction of her mind, that no duties should be disregarded, and that all duties were disagreeable: she was always opposed to the doing of anything which appeared to be the especial wish of the person consulting her; because it would be agreeable, she judged that it would be wrong. She was most sincerely anxious for her poor dependents, but she tormented them most cruelly. When Biddy Finn wished to marry, Lady Selina told her it was her duty to put a restraint on her inclinations; and ultimately prevented her, though there was no objection on earth to Tony Mara; and when the widow Cullen wanted to open a little shop for soap and candles, having eight pounds ten shillings left to stock it, after the wake and funeral were over, Lady Selina told the widow it was her duty to restrain her inclination, and she did so; and the eight pounds ten shillings drifted away in quarters of tea, and most probably, half noggins of whiskey.

In the same way, she could not bring herself to think that f.a.n.n.y was doing right, in following the bent of her dearest wishes--in marrying this man she loved so truly. She was weak; she was giving way to temptation; she was going back from her word; she was, she said, giving up her claim to that high standard of feminine character, which it should be the proudest boast of a woman to maintain.

It was in vain that her mother argued the point with her in her own way. "But why shouldn't she marry him, my dear," said the countess, "when they love each other--and now there's plenty of money and all that; and your papa thinks it's all right? I declare I can't see the harm of it."

"I don't say there's harm, mother," said Lady Selina; "not absolute harm; but there's weakness. She had ceased to esteem Lord Ballindine."

"Ah, but, my dear, she very soon began to esteem him again. Poor dear!

she didn't know how well she loved him."

"She ought to have known, mamma--to have known well, before she rejected him; but, having rejected him, no power on earth should have induced her to name him, or even to think of him again. She should have been dead to him; and he should have been the same as dead to her."

"Well, I don't know," said the countess; "but I'm sure I shall be delighted to see anybody happy in the house again, and I always liked Lord Ballindine myself. There was never any trouble about his dinners or anything."

And Lady Cashel was delighted. The grief she had felt at the abrupt termination of all her hopes with regard to her son had been too much for her; she had been unable even to mind her worsted-work, and Griffiths had failed to comfort her; but from the moment that her husband had told her, with many hems and haws, that Mr Armstrong had arrived to repeat Lord Ballindine's proposal, and that he had come to consult her about again asking his lordship to Grey Abbey, she became happy and light-hearted; and, before Griffiths had left her for the night, she had commenced her consultations as to the preparations for the wedding.