COUSIN SARAH.
Arthur Franklyn had not been in a mood to call upon Mr. Armstrong during that sad week, nor, indeed, to pay visits anywhere. But he wrote an appropriate letter, saying all that was necessary of grateful thanks for the kindness and sympathy he had experienced, especially from Mrs. John Armstrong.
Perhaps, on the whole, this was a more satisfactory proceeding in Mr. Armstrong's estimation, but Cousin Sarah was disappointed. She had been introduced to Mr. Henry Halford at the inquest, by his brother-in-law, and the half-hour during which she had conversed with him confirmed her good opinion of his manners and character.
Cousin Sarah was a few years older than Edward Armstrong; they had known each other from children, and in spite of the pride which had grown out of his increased wealth and aristocratic connexions, he had still a great deference for cousin Sarah's opinions. She possessed that very rare quality, plain common sense, and notwithstanding her homeliness she had intellectual tastes sufficient to enable her to appreciate knowledge and learning in its higher developments, as seen in her cousin Edward and Henry Halford. That a man of such intellectual power as Edward Armstrong could prefer for his daughter's husband the weak-minded captain whose history had been told to her to the intellectual young schoolmaster, because the former was rich and the latter poor, was to her a mystery.
Cousin Sarah, with all her good sense, had yet to learn the hardening, withering effects on the human heart which a love of gold produces.
She was brave, however, and she determined before she left Kilburn to bring the matter face to face with Edward Armstrong, and plead the cause of the young girl whom she was convinced by various signs was really attached to the intellectual young schoolmaster.
She had quickly discovered Mrs. Armstrong's opinion on the subject, and when she mentioned her wish to be alone with cousin Edward, she found in Mary's mother a strong ally. Soon after dinner, on this the last evening of her visit, cousin Sarah found herself alone in the drawing-room at Lime Grove, with a man who prided himself upon his indomitable will and unbending opinions.
But she was not daunted. There were two strong points in her favour, and upon these she rested her hopes of success. One was Edward Armstrong's love for his daughter, and the other his often acknowledged confidence in cousin Sarah's judgment. She sat at work near the open window. May was passing into June, and the open country which still held sway near Lime Grove seemed redolent of summer. The sun, still high above the horizon, was tinting the fleecy clouds that softened his brightness with crimson and gold, and from myriads of little throats came the warbling songs of joyous birds waking the echoes with their sweet melody.
"So you leave us to-morrow, cousin Sarah," said Mr. Armstrong, laying down his newspaper, and placing himself at the window near which she sat.
"Yes," she said, "and I do so with great reluctance; it has been a most happy fortnight excepting that sad affair in the train, but I shall never forget your kindness and your wife's."
"I don't forget your care and attention to my poor father," he replied, in a tone of deep emotion; "no kindness on our part can ever repay that, Sarah."
There was silence for a few moments, and then Mr. Armstrong spoke again:—
"I suppose you will leave Jack with perfect confidence?"
"Yes, quite; he seems very happy, and I think he will try to do well and get on in his business. He is delighted at the prospect of spending his monthly holiday here as you have proposed."
"Yes, poor fellow, it will be a change for him; I am glad Maria thought of it."
With all cousin Sarah's bravery, she found some little difficulty in commencing the subject uppermost in her thoughts, but there occurred another pause, and then Edward Armstrong led the way to it himself.
"Do you think Mary is looking well, Sarah?" he said, "you told me last Sunday week that she appeared changed, but I have not yet had an opportunity to ask you in what way."
"I must tell you the truth, Edward; Mary is as pretty and graceful as ever, but there is a delicacy of complexion, and at times a sad look, which makes me fancy she is not quite happy."
"They have been telling you a fine tale, I suppose, about my cruelty in not allowing my daughter to marry a man who has not a sixpence to call his own;" and as he spoke cousin Sarah could detect the old boyish temper, and the will that would brook no opposition. "I thought the girl had more sense," he went on; "why, she has refused offers that were unexceptionable, all because of that boy,—you have seen him, Sarah."
"I do not consider Mr. Henry Halford a boy, Edward," she replied, for now the ice was broken the impetuous tone did not daunt her. "He told me on Wednesday that he was going up for ordination on Trinity Sunday, the rector of Kilburn having given him what he called a title to orders."
"Yes, yes, I daresay; however, that is of little importance to me, but what has been told you, Sarah, about this matter?"
"Mary has told me nothing, Edward; Mrs. Armstrong certainly described the splendid offers her daughter had refused, and acknowledged that her refusals were no doubt caused by her attachment to Henry Halford;" and cousin Sarah spoke in that calm, quiet manner which so often carries weight with it.
"Absurd nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Armstrong; "I thought my daughter was above such lovesick foolery, to refuse a man with 12,000l. a year, and the nephew of a duke, for a penniless schoolmaster, descended from nobody knows who."
"Have you no anxiety for your daughter's future happiness, Edward?"
"Happiness! There's no happiness in the world without money."
"Oh, Edward, how you are changed! money was not the source of your dear father's happiness, you never learnt that opinion from him; besides, your own wife was without fortune."
"Ah yes, I had the money, and I chose Maria St. Clair for that sweet character which has never changed; besides, she was well born and well connected, which the Halfords are not."
"Who gave you that information, Edward?"
"Why, I formed the opinion from my own judgment. Who would be a schoolmaster if he could help it?"
"At all events a schoolmaster is equal to a tradesman in position, and often far above one in education, but for once, cousin Edward, you have failed in your judgment. Henry Halford, you must own, is a gentleman, and a man of education, and I know that both his parents are as well born and as well connected as your own wife."
"I may ask you now where you obtained that information?" said Mr. Armstrong, in a sneering tone.
"You remember my father's farm, Edward?"
"Of course I do," he replied wonderingly; "I am not likely to forget the pleasant old homestead where you and John and I spent so many happy days in our childhood."
"And you remember Englefield, the beautiful estate of Lord Rivers, about two miles distant from Holmwood Farm, which my father tenanted from his lordship?"
"You are bringing back childish memories, Sarah, that are painful yet pleasant, but what has all this to do with the Halfords?"
"Dr. Halford was tutor to the present Lord Rivers in his young days, and from that circumstance he named his house at Kilburn, Englefield Grange. I had a long talk with young Mr. Halford on Wednesday, when we were waiting in the inquest-room at the hotel for you and the coroner. Mr. Franklyn introduced us. I was speaking of the beautiful scenery between Farnham and Basingstoke, and he asked me if I knew Englefield, and so one thing led to another——"
"But this has nothing to do with Mr. Halford's birth or connexions."
"Indirectly it has, for during our conversation I discovered that Dr. Halford's father was for many years and till his death a surgeon in Basingstoke, with a first-rate practice; his two sisters are well married, and his brother is an army surgeon in India."
"You seem to have obtained from this young man the history of himself and his connexions, Sarah,"—was the scornful remark of Mr. Armstrong,—"rather an unusual topic for a gentleman to enter upon on a first introduction."
"It arose entirely from my remark about the country round Basingstoke, but I will own that when he mentioned Englefield and Lord Rivers I drew from him other facts for the sake of our dear Mary. I tell you candidly, Edward Armstrong, that I admire your daughter's good sense in preferring such a man as young Mr. Halford to one of those who think they can purchase a wife with gold, feeling sure that she will be given up by her parents to the highest bidder, like the articles in an auction-room."
Edward Armstrong felt rather startled by cousin Sarah's plain speaking, in which there was too much truth to be pleasant, yet he said in a kind of deprecatory tone—
"I have promised Mary not to force her into the acceptance of any offer again, and if she is determined to marry no one but the schoolmaster, she must remain single all her life, for she has expressed her determination not to marry him without my consent, and that she will never have."
"Mary possesses the real source of happiness," said cousin Sarah, "even if you continue to withhold that consent. My uncle's teachings during the week of her visit at Meadow Farm have not been thrown away."
Again Edward Armstrong was startled. He had been surprised at the gentle submission of his high-spirited daughter, and the unaltered love and respect she had shown to the father, whose love of gold had blighted her youthful hopes; but now he understood the cause, and across his memory passed the words he had read at his father's knee long before the demon of gold had hardened his heart—
"Godliness with contentment is great gain."
After a few moments' pause he said in a softened tone, "I should be glad, and so I know would Maria, to keep our only daughter at home with us always, but it seems an unusual fate for a beautiful and accomplished girl such as she is, and with 20,000l. which I could give her on her wedding-day—I am sure I have no wish but for her happiness."
"Then consent to her marriage with Henry Halford; I could tell by certain signs when I mentioned her name that he still loves your daughter. Wait till after his ordination, and than give the young people 10,000l. to enable them to live independently of the school till Mr. Halford obtains a living."
"Not much chance of that, I expect."
Cousin Sarah smiled.
"I have one more little piece of information to give yon, Edward," she said; "when speaking of his ordination Mr. Halford told me that his father's old pupil, Lord Rivers, had promised that the first vacant living in his gift should be given to his tutor's son, if he took orders, after his ordination. The young man, however did not appear to put much faith in the promise, in consequence of the number of years that had elapsed since it was made, he the only surviving son, being his father's youngest child."
The entrance of the tea-tray put a stop to the conversation, but Cousin Sarah could observe in the manner of Mr. Armstrong towards his daughter an unusual tenderness, and now and then a wistful look, as if conscience were upbraiding him as the cause of the sad expression which at times passed over her face.
Mary Armstrong drove Cousin Sarah and her father to the station next morning, for the first time since the sad death of Louisa Franklyn. Warmhearted and loving farewells had taken place before leaving the house, for Cousin Sarah had endeared herself to every one of the family, servants included, by her gentle ways, and quiet yet unreserved manners.
To Mrs. Armstrong she had become a true friend and comforter about Mary, although no opportunity occurred for her to hear what had passed between Cousin Sarah and her husband.
A few words only on the morning she left, while dressing for her journey, gave the loving mother hope.
"I repeated to Cousin Edward all I had heard of Mr. Halford, of his parents and connexions, and of his hopes about the Church, but I could obtain no promise that he would alter his mind on the subject. I think it would be unwise to say anything to Mary, and perhaps excite hopes only to be disappointed."
To this advice Mrs. Armstrong readily agreed, and when the elegant and refined lady and her homely sensible cousin kissed each other with real undisguised affection the latter said—
"We have done all we can, Cousin Maria, and we must leave the result to God, He will order all things for the best."
No word passed respecting the conversation which had taken place between Cousin Sarah and Edward Armstrong. Not even to his wife could the money-loving husband confess how much that conversation had roused his conscience.
And so the merry month of May gave place to leafy June, with its roses and lilies, its long days and short nights, and the perfume of new-mown hay.
With the first Sunday in June came the Whit-Sunday which reminds us of the day when the converts of early Christian times wore white garments, after the first baptismal rite, as a token of purity—fit emblem of that pure and holy Spirit which descended upon the apostles on the day of Pentecost.
The rector of Kilburn, whose long and faithful ministration had endeared him to his parishioners, was on that day assisted by a stranger. Henry Halford's place in the gallery with the boys being occupied by another of the masters.
Both these circumstances Mary noticed, but no idea arose in her mind that they were connected with Mr. Henry Halford's movements. When they left the church, however, Mary saw the gentleman, whom she now knew to be Mr. Franklyn, supporting his aged father-in-law on one side, with Clara on the other, and followed by Kate Marston and three other children, the youngest a beautiful little boy nearly four years old.
The dejected looks of the father, and the deep mourning worn by the children, brought tears to her eyes. For Mary, in her innocence, could only think of the second Mrs. Franklyn as a second mother to Fanny's children, and to her mind, therefore, they were doubly motherless.
Mrs. Armstrong had remained at home on the Sunday morning, and as Mary walked towards the gate leaning on her father's arm, she was surprised to see him leave her, and advancing towards the group accept the offered hand of Mr. Franklyn.
Not being aware of the slight acquaintance, Arthur turned to the old gentleman and introduced his father-in-law, Dr. Halford. Mary could not help noticing a certain dignity and reserve in his manner as he returned Mr. Armstrong's recognition. But Arthur was slow to observe these shades of manner, and quite ignorant of any motive for reserve, he introduced his children by name, as well as Kate Marston, without discovering in the least that he was making three of the party very uncomfortable.
"We are walking too slowly for you and Miss Armstrong," said the old gentleman gently, "I trust Mrs. Armstrong is well."
"Not quite well enough to attend church this morning on account of the heat, thank you," said Mr. Armstrong, glad of the opportunity to escape, "but not otherwise indisposed."
And then after the usual polite salutations, Mr. Armstrong and his daughter left the mournfully attired group, and hastened towards home.
"I must be polite to the people with whom I have been so unfortunately mixed up, Mary," said her father, "and I feel for the poor man, left with all those motherless children. I hear he is well off, besides inheriting his second wife's fortune; otherwise it would be a sad burden upon the poor old grandfather to have to support them upon school keeping."
"The youngest is a beautiful little boy," said Mary, quite unable to reply to her father's speech.
"Yes, I noticed a fat, rosy child, led by a lady in mourning; is she the wardrobe-keeper?"
"No papa," said Mary, and with all her efforts she could not restrain a slight tone of indignation, "that lady is Mrs. Halford's niece."
Mr. Armstrong would have questioned his daughter a week previously as to the source of her information, but a recollection of Cousin Sarah kept him silent.
On the way home they overtook Mr. Drummond, and while he and her father talked, Mary walked by his side meditating with surprise on the events of the morning—the earnest looks of Mr. Franklyn's eldest girl, the evident restraint in the manner of Kate Marston and Dr. Halford, and, above all, the absence of Henry Halford.
Suddenly a thought struck her—she knew he had taken his M. A. degree, she had seen his name in the Times—was he gone up for ordination, and where? All this was at present unknown to her, and she could only console herself with the recollection that the Times would have every particular about the ordinations whenever they took place, and Henry Halford's name was sure to be mentioned if he were among the candidates.
Mary told her mother of the encounter in the churchyard, and the absence of Henry Halford, without any comment.
Mrs. Armstrong listened with interest to her description of the children, and especially about the little boy. She thought well of this meeting to a certain extent, but she said not a hopeful word to her daughter.