Dynevor Terrace (Vol. II)

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'It will be great pain, no doubt; but once over, he will be free.'

'It never will be over.'

'That is young-ladyism.'

'I never was a young lady, and I know what I mean. Mary may not be
all he thinks her, and she may be dull enough to let her affection
wear out; but I do not believe he will ever look at any one again, as
he did after Mary on your wedding-day.'

'So you forbid him to be ever happy again!'

'Not at all, only in that one way. There are many others of being
happy.'

'That one way meaning marriage.'

'I mean that sort of perfect marriage that, according to the saying,
is made in heaven. Whether that could have been with Mary, I do not
know her well enough to guess; but I am convinced that he will always
have the same kind of memory of her that a man has of a first love,
or first wife.'

'It may have been a mistake to drive him into the attachment, which
Isabel thinks has been favoured by absence, leaving scope for
imagination; but I cannot give up the hope that his days of happiness
are yet to come.'

'Nor do I give up Mary, yet,' said Clara. 'Till she announces her
defection I shall not believe it, for it would be common honesty to
inform poor Louis, and in that she never was deficient.'

'It is not a plant that seems to thrive on the Peruvian soil.'

'No; and I am dreadfully afraid for Tom Madison. There were hints
about him in Mr. Ponsonby's letters, which make me very anxious; and
from what my uncle says, it seems that there is such an atmosphere of
gambling and trickery about his office, that he thinks it a matter of
course that no one should be really true and honest.'

'That would be a terrible affair indeed! I don't know for which I
should be most concerned, Louis or our poor little Charlotte. But
after all, Clara, we have known too many falsehoods come across the
Atlantic, to concern ourselves about anything without good reason.'

So they talked, enjoying the leisure the walk gave them for
conversation, and then paying the painful visit, when Clara tried in
vain to make it understood by the poor old lady that she was going
away, and that James was her brother. They felt thankful that such
decay had been spared their grandmother, and Clara sighed to think
that her uncle might be on the brink of a like loss of faculties, and
then felt herself more than ever bound to him.

On the way home they went together to the church, and pondered over
the tombs of their ancestry,--ranging from the grim, defaced old
knight, through the polished brass, the kneeling courtier, and the
dishevelled Grief embracing an urn, down to the mural arch enshrining
the dear revered name of Catharine, daughter of Roland, and wife of
James Frost Dynevor, the last of her line whose bones would rest
there. Her grave had truly been the sole possestion that her son's
labours had secured for her; that grave was the only spot at
Cheveleigh that claimed a pang from Clara's heart. She stood beside
it with deep, fond, clinging love and reverence, but with no painful
recollections to come between her and that fair, bright vision of
happy old age. Alas! for the memories that her brother had sown to
spring up round him now!

Apart from all these vipers of his own creating, James after all felt
more in the cession of Cheveleigh than did his sister. These were
days of change and of feudal feeling wearing out; but James, long as
he had pretended to scorn 'being sentimental about his forefathers,'
was strongly susceptible of such impressions; and he was painfully
conscious of being disinherited. He might have felt thus, without
any restoration or loss, as the mere effect of visiting his
birthright as a stranger; but, as he received all humbly instead of
proudly, the feeling did him no harm. It softened him into sympathy
with his uncle, and tardy appreciation of his single-minded devotion
to the estate, which he had won not for himself, but for others, only
to see it first ungratefully rejected, and then snatched away. Then,
with a thrill of humiliation at his own unworthiness, came the
earnest prayer that it might yet be vouchsafed to him to tend the
exhausted body, and train the contracted mind to dwell on that
inheritance whence there could be no casting out.

Poor Oliver was fretful and restless, insisting on being brought down
to his study to watch over the packing of his papers, and miserable
at being unable to arrange them himself. Even the tenderest pity for
him could not prevent him from being an exceeding trial; and James
could hardly yet have endured it, but for pleasure and interest in
watching his sister's lively good-humour, saucy and determined when
the old man was unreasonable, and caressing and affectionate, when he
was violent in his impotence; never seeming to hear, see, or regard
anything unkind or unpleasant; and absolutely pleased and gratified
when her uncle, in his petulance, sometimes ungraciously rejected her
services in favour of those of 'Roland,' who, he took it for granted,
must, as a man, have more sense. It would sometimes cross James, how
would Isabel and the children fare with this ill-humour; but he had
much confidence in his wife's sweet calm temper, and more in the
obvious duty; and, on the whole, he believed it was better not to
think about it.

The suffering that the surrender cost Oliver was only shown in this
species of petty fractiousness, until the last morning, when his
nephew was helping him across the hall, and Clara close at his side,
he made them stand still beside one of the pillars, and groaned as he
said, 'Here I waited for the carriage last time! Here I promised to
get it back again!'

'I wish every one kept promises as you did,' said James, looking
about for something cheerful to say.

'I had hope then,' said Oliver; and well might he feel the contrast
between the youth, with such hopes, energies, and determination
mighty within him, and the broken and disappointed man.

'Hope yet, and better hope!' James could not help saying.

'Not while there's such a rascal in the office at Lima,' cried
Oliver, testily.

'Oh! Uncle Oliver, he did not mean that!' exclaimed Clara.

Mr. Dynevor grumbled something about parsons, which neither of them
chose to hear; and Clara cut it short by saying, 'After all, Uncle
Oliver, you have done it all! Dear grandmamma came back and was
happy here, and that was all that signified. You never wanted it for
yourself, you know, and my dear father was not here to have it. And
for you, what could you have had more than your nephew and niece to--
to try to be like your children! And hadn't you rather have them
without purchase than with?' And as she saw him smile in answer to
her bright caress, she added merrily, 'There's nothing else to pity
but the fir trees and gold fish; and as they have done very happily
before without the Pendragon reign, I dare any they will again; so I
can't be very sorry for them!'

This was Clara's farewell to her greatness, and cheerily she
enlivened her uncle all the way to London, and tried to solace him
after the interviews that he insisted on with various men of
business, and which did not tend to make him stronger in health or
spirits through the next day's journey.

The engine whistled its arriving shriek at Northwold. Happy Clara!
What was the summer rain to her? Every house, every passenger, were
tokens of home; and the damp rain-mottled face of the Terrace,
looking like a child that had been crying, was more welcome to her
longing eyes than ever had been lake or mountain.

Isabel and little Catharine stood on the step; but as Mr. Dynevor was
lifted out, the little girl shrank out of sight with a childish awe
of infirmity. The dining-room had been made a very comfortable
sitting-room for him, and till he was settled there, nothing else
could be attended to; but he was so much fatigued, that it was found
best to leave him entirely to Jane; and Clara, after a few moments,
followed her brother from the room.

As she shut the door, she stood for some seconds unobserved, and
unwilling to interfere with the scene before her. Halfway upstairs,
James had been pulled down to sit on the steps, surrounded by his
delighted flock. The baby was in his arms, flourishing her hands as
he danced her; Kitty, from above, had clasped tightly round his neck,
chattering and kissing with breathless velocity; one twin in front
was drumming on his knee, and shrieking in accordance with every
shout of the baby; and below, leaning on the balusters, stood their
mother's graceful figure, looking up at them with a lovely smiling
face of perfect gladness. She was the first to perceive Clara; and,
with a pretty gesture to be silent, she pointed to the stand of the
Wedgewood jar, under which sat the other little maid, her two fat
arms clasped tight round her papa's umbrella, and the ivory handle
indenting her rosy cheek, as she fondled it in silent transport.

'My little Salome,' whispered Isabel, squeezing Clara's hand, 'our
quiet one. She could not sleep for expecting papa, and now she is in
a fit of shy delight; she can't shout with the others; she can only
nurse his umbrella.'

Just then James made a desperate demonstration, amid peals of
laughter from his daughters. 'We are stopping the way! Get out, you
unruly monsters! Let go, Kitty--Mercy; I shall kick! Mamma, catch
this ball;' making a feint of tossing the crowing Fanny at her.

Assuredly, thought Clara, pity was wasted; there was not one too
many. And then began the happy exulting introductions, and a laugh
at little Mercy, who stood blank and open-mouthed, gazing up and up
her tall aunt, as if there were no coming to the top of her. Clara
sat down on the stairs, to bring her face to a level, and struck up a
friendship with her on the spot, while James lilted up his little
Salome, her joy still too deep and reserved for manifestation; only
without a word she nestled close to him, laid her head on his
shoulder, and closed her eyes, as if languid with excess of rapture-
a pretty contrast to her sister's frantic delight, which presently
alarmed James lest it should disturb his uncle, and he called them
up-stairs.

But Clara must first run to the House Beautiful, and little Mercy
must needs come to show her the way, and trotted up before her,
consequentially announcing, 'Aunt Cara.' Miss Faithfull alone was
present; and, without speaking, Clara dropped on the ground, laid her
head on her dear old friend's lap, and little Mercy exclaimed, in
wondering alarm, 'Aunt Cara naughty--Aunt Cara crying!'

'My darling,' said Miss Faithfull, as she kissed Clara's brow and
stroked her long flaxen hair, 'you have gone through a great deal.
We must try to make you happy in your poor old home.'

'Oh, no! oh, no! It is happiness! Oh! such happiness! but I don't
know what to do with it, and I want granny!'

She was almost like little Salome; the flood of bliss in returning
home, joined with the missing of the one dearest welcome, had come on
her so suddenly that she was almost stifled, till she had been calmed
and soothed by the brief interval of quiet with her dear old friend.
She returned to No. 5, there to find that her uncle was going to bed,
and Charlotte, pink and beautiful with delight, was running about in
attendance on Jane. She went up straight to her own little room,
which had been set out exactly as in former times, so that she could
feel as if she had been not a day absent; and she lost not a moment
in adding to it all the other little treasures which made it fully
like her own. She looked out at the Ormersfield trees, and smiled to
think how well Louis's advice had turned out; and then she sighed, in
the fear that it might yet be her duty to leave home. If her uncle
could live without her, she must tear herself away, and work for his
maintenance.

However, for the present, she might enjoy to the utmost, and she
proceeded to the little parlour, which, to her extreme surprise, she
found only occupied by the four children--Kitty holding the youngest
upon her feet, till, at the new apparition, Fanny suddenly seated
herself for the convenience of staring.

'Are you all alone here!' exclaimed Clara.

'I am taking care of the little ones,' replied Kitty, with dignity.

'Where's mamma!'

'She is gone down to get tea. Papa is gone to the Union; but we do
not mean to wait for him,' answered the little personage, with an air
capable, the more droll because she was on the smallest scale, of
much less substance than the round fat twins, and indeed chiefly
distinguishable from them by her slender neat shape; for the faces
were at first sight all alike, brown, small-featured, with large dark
eyes, and dark curly hair--Mercy, with the largest and most impetuous
eyes, and Salome with a dreamy look, more like her mother. Fanny was
in a different style, and much prettier; but her contemplation ended
in alarm and inclination to cry, whereupon Kitty embraced her, and
consoled her like a most efficient guardian; then seeing Mercy
becoming rather rude in her familiarities with her aunt, held up her
small forefinger, and called out gravely, 'Mercy, recollect
yourself!'

Wonders would never cease! Here was Isabel coming up with the tea-
tray in her own hands!

'My dear, do you always do that?'

'No, only when Charlotte is busy; and,' as she picked up the baby,
'now Kitty may bring the rest.'

So, in various little journeys, the miniature woman's curly head
arose above the loaf, and the butter-dish, and even the milk-jug,
held without spilling; while Isabel would have set out the tea-things
with one hand, if Clara had not done it for her; and the workhouse
girl finally appeared with the kettle.

Was this the same Isabel whom Clara last remembered with her baby in
her lap, beautiful and almost as inanimate as a statue? There was
scarcely more change from the long-frocked infant to the bustling
important sprite, than from that fair piece of still life to the
active house-mother. Unruffled grace was innate; every movement had
a lofty, placid deliberation and simplicity, that made her like a
disguised princess; and though her beauty was a little worn, what it
had lost in youth was far more than compensated by sweetness and
animation. The pensive cast remained, but the dreaminess had sobered
into thought and true hope. Her dress was an old handsome silk,
frayed and worn, but so becoming to her, that the fading was
unnoticed in the delicate neatness of the accompaniments. And the
dear old room! It looked like a cheerful habitation; but Clara's
almost instant inquiry was for the porcelain Arcadians, and could not
think it quite as tidy and orderly as it used to be in old times,
when she was the only fairy Disorder. 'However, I'll see to that,'
quoth she to herself. And she gave herself up to the happy tea-
drinking, when James was welcomed by another tumult, and was pinned
down by Kitty and Salome on either side--mamma making tea in spite of
Fanny on her lap--Mercy adhering to the new-comer--the eager
conversation--Kitty thrusting in her little oar, and being hushed by
mamma--the grand final game at romps, ending with Isabel carrying off
her little victims, one by one, to bed; and James taking the tea-tray
down stairs. Clara followed with other parts of the equipage, and
then both stood together warming themselves, and gossiped over the
dear old kitchen fire, till Isabel came down and found them there.
And then, before any of the grand news was discussed, all the infant
marvels of the last fortnight had to be detailed; and the young
parents required Clara's opinion whether they were spoiling Kitty.

Next, Clara found her way to the cupboard, brought the shepherd and
shepherdess to light, looked them well over, and satisfied herself
that there was not one scar or wound on either--nay, it is not
absolutely certain that she did not kiss the damsel's delicate pink
cheek--set them up on the mantelpiece, promised to keep them in
order, and stood gazing at them till James accused her of regarding
them as her penates!

'Why, Jem!' she said, turning on him, 'you are a mere recreant if you
can feel it like home without them!'

'I have other porcelain figures to depend on for a home!' said James.

'Take care, James!' said his wife, with the fond sadness of one whose
cup overflowed with happiness; 'Clara's shepherdess may look fragile,
but she has kept her youth and seen many a generation pass by of such
as you depend on!'

'She once was turned out of Cheveleigh, too, and has borne it as
easily aa Clara,' said James, smiling. 'I suspect her worst danger
is from Fanny. There's a lady who, I warn you, can never withstand
Fanny!'

Isabel took up her own defence, and they laughed on. Poor Uncle
Oliver! could he but have known how little all this had to do with
Cheveleigh!

CHAPTER XX.

WESTERN TIDINGS.

O lady! worthy of earth's proudest throne!
Nor less, by excellence of nature, fit
Beside an unambitious hearth to sit
Domestic queen, where grandeur is unknown--
Queen and handmaid lowly.
WORDSWORTH.

A house in the Terrace was let, and the rent was welcome; and shortly
after, Clara had an affectionate letter from her old school-enemy,
Miss Salter, begging her to come as governess to her little brother,
promising that she should be treated like one of the family, and
offering a large salary.

Clara was much afraid that it was her duty to accept the proposal,
since her uncle seemed very fairly contented, and was growing very
fond of 'Roland,' and the payment would be so great an assistance,
but James and Isabel were strongly averse to it; and her conscience
waa satisfied by Miss Mercy Faithfull's discovery of a family at the
Baths in search of a daily governess.

Miss Frost was not a person to be rejected, and in another week she
found herself setting out to breakfast with a girl and three boys,
infusing Latin, French, and geography all the forenoon, dining with
them, sometimes walking with them, and then returning to the merry
evening of Dynevor Terrace.

Mr. Dynevor endured the step pretty well. She had ascendancy enough
over him always to take her own way, and he was still buoyed up by
the hope of recovering enough to rectify his affairs in Peru. He was
better, though his right side remained paralysed, and Mr. Walby saw
little chance of restoration. Rising late, and breakfasting slowly,
the newspaper and visits from James wiled away the morning. He
preferred taking his meals alone; and after dinner was wheeled out in
a chair on fine days. Clara came to him as soon as her day's work
was over; and, when he was well enough to bear it, the whole party
were with him from the children's bedtime till his own. Altogether,
the invalid-life passed off pretty well. He did not dislike the
children, and Kitty liked anything that needed to be waited on. He
took Clara's services as a right, but was a little afraid of 'Mrs.
Dynevor,' and highly flattered by any attention from her; and with
James his moods were exceedingly variable, and often very trying,
but, in general, very well endured.

Peruvian mails were anticipated in the family with a feeling most
akin to dread. The notice of a vessel coming in was the signal for
growlings at everything, from the post-office down to his dinner; and
the arrival of letters made things only worse. As Clara said, the
galleons were taken by the pirates; the Equatorial Company seemed to
be doing the work of Caleb Balderston's thunderstorm, and to be
bearing the blame of a deficit such as Oliver could not charge on it.
The whole statement was backed by Mr. Ponsonby, whose short notes
spoke of indisposition making him more indebted than ever to the
exertions of Robson. This last was gone to Guayaquil to attempt to
clear up the accounts of the Equatorial Company, leaving the office
at Lima in the charge of Madison and the new clerk, Ford; and Mr.
Dynevor was promised something decisive and satisfactory on his
return. Of Mary there was no mention, except what might be inferred
in a postscript:--'Ward is expected in a few weeks.'

Mr. Dynevor was obliged to resign himself; and so exceedingly
fractious was he, that Clara had been feeling quite dispirited, when
her brother called her to tell her joyously that Lord Ormersfield and
Louis were coming home, and would call in on their way the next
evening. Those wretched children must not take her for a walk.

Nevertheless, the wretched children did want to walk, and Clara could
not get home till half-an-hour after she knew the train must have
come in; and she found the visitors in her uncle's room. Louis came
forward to the door to meet her, and shook her hand with all his
heart, saying, under his breath,

'I congratulate you!'

'Thank you!' she said, in the same hearty tone.

'And now, look at him! look at my father! Have not we made a good
piece of work of keeping him abroad all the winter? Does not he look
as well as ever he did in his life?'

This was rather strong, for Lord Ormersfield was somewhat grey, and a
little bent; but he had resumed all his look of health and vigour,
and was a great contrast to his younger, but far older-looking
cousin. He welcomed Clara with his tone of courteous respect, and
smiled at his son's exultation, saying, Fitzjocelyn deserved all the
credit, for he himself had never thought to be so patched up again,
and poor Oliver was evidently deriving as much encouragement as if
rheumatism had been paralysis.

'I must look in at the House Beautiful,' said Louis, presently.
'Clara, I can't lose your company. Won't you come with me?'

Of course she came; and she divined why, instead of at once entering
the next house, he took a turn along the Terrace, and, after a pause,
asked, 'Clara, when did you last hear from Lima?'

'Not for a long time. I suppose she is taken up by her father's
illness.'

He paused, collected himself, and asked again, 'Have you heard
nothing from your uncle?'

'Yes,' said Clara, sadly, 'but Louis,' she added, with a lively tone,
'what does not come from herself, I would not believe.'

'I do not.'

'That's right, don't be vexed when it may be nothing.'

'No; if she had found any one more worthy of her, she would not
hesitate in making me aware of it. I ought to be satisfied, if she
does what is best for her own happiness. Miss Ponsonby believes that
this is a man of sterling worth, probably suiting her better than I
might have done. She was a good deal driven on by circumstances
before, and, perhaps, it was all a mistake on her side.' And he
tried to smile.

Clara exclaimed that 'Mary could not have been all he had believed,
if--'

'No,' he said, 'she is all, and more than all. I comprehend her
better now, and could have shown her that I do. She has been the
blessing of my life so far, and her influence always will be so. I
shall always be grateful to her, be the rest as it may, and I mean to
live on hope to the last. Now for the good old ladies. Really,
Clara, the old Dynevor Terrace atmosphere has come back, and there
seems to be the same sort of rest and cheering in coming into these
old iron gates! After all, Isabel is growing almost worthy to be
called Mrs. Frost.' And in this manner he talked on, up to the very
door of the House Beautiful, as if to cheat himself out of
despondency.

'That was a very pretty meeting,' said Isabel to her husband, when no
witness was present but little Fanny.

'What, between his lordship and my uncle?'

'You know better.'

'My dear, your mother once tried match-making for Fitzjocelyn. Be
warned by her example.'

'I am doing no such thing. I am only observing what every one sees.'

'Don't be so common-place.'

'That's all disdain--you must condescend. I have been hearing from
Mr. Dynevor of the excellent offers that Clara refused.'

'Do you think Uncle Oliver and Clara agree as to excellence?'

'Still,' continued Isabel, 'considering how uncomfortable she was, it
does not seem improbable that she would have married, unless some
attachment had steeled her heart and raised her standard. I know she
was unconscious, but it was Fitzjocelyn who formed her.'

'He has been a better brother to her than I have been; but look only
at their perfect ease.'

'Now it is my belief that they were made for each other, and can
venture to find it out, since she is no longer an heiress, and he is
free from his Peruvian entanglement.'

'Fanny, do you hear what a scheming mamma you have? I hope she will
have used it all upon Sir Hubert before you come out as the beauty of
the Terrace!'

'Well, I mean to sound Clara.'

'You had better leave it alone.'

'Do you forbid me?'

'Why, no, for I don't think you have the face to say anything that
would distress her, or disturb the friendship which has been her
greatest benefit.'

'Thank you. All I intend is, that if it should be as I suppose, the
poor things should not miss coming to an understanding for want--'

'Of a Christmas-tree,' said James, laughing. 'You may have your own
way. I have too much confidence in your discretion and in theirs to
imagine that you will produce the least effect.'

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