COLONEL REDGRAVE’S LEGACY.
IN FOUR CHAPTERS.—CHAPTER III.
The spinster sisters held a council of war on the day following the events we have described. They were not disappointed at the failure of the marriage proposals to Miss Fraser; for that young lady was by no means the kind of guardian they would select for their brother as a bulwark against the troubles and vexations of this mortal life. The way was now more clear than ever for the success of their original plan. Septimus had learned their ideas and wishes, and had gradually become more amenable to reason. The beauty and talent of the handsome widow had been fully descanted upon. Nor were her monetary qualifications lost sight of by the practical Penelope. The question of suitability as to age had been delicately but firmly touched upon by both the sisters.
‘Mrs Fraser is only ten years your junior, Septimus, and that is the difference which should always exist between husband and wife. Indeed, I see no objection to even a greater disproportion, but that is the minimum necessary to conjugal happiness. I am certain that Mrs Fraser has a tendresse for you, and that any proposal from you would meet with every encouragement.’
Septimus left the room considerably mollified, and immediately after he had done so, Penelope turned to her sister, and said: ‘I trust, Lavinia, you approve of all I have been saying to dear Septimus?’
‘Entirely, my dear sister; but’—— Lavinia paused.
‘You have always a “but,” Lavinia. Pray, speak out.’
‘Well, I have a suspicion that Mrs Fraser has a lurking sentiment for Mr Lockwood.’
‘Good gracious, Lavinia! you certainly conceive the most extraordinary notions.’
‘I do not say for a single moment that the sentiment is reciprocated,’ replied Lavinia.
‘Why, Frank Lockwood is young enough to be her son!’ indignantly exclaimed Penelope.
‘Hardly, Penelope, unless Mrs Fraser was marriageable at the age of six,’ Lavinia continued. ‘Then I cannot help thinking that Frank is in love with Blanche.’
Penelope made a gesture of assent. ‘That is highly probable, and would account for her rejection of Septimus.’
Finally, the sisters mutually agreed that it would be politic to prepare Mrs Fraser for the possible proposal of their brother.
We trust the reader will not contemptuously label the spinster sisters as ‘matchmakers;’ for surely matchmaking is a fitting task for the angels, if it be true, as we are often told, that marriages are made in heaven.
At this moment the widow chanced to enter the drawing-room where the sisters were sitting. Her features still showed traces of the disappointment she had recently experienced.
‘We have not seen you all the morning, Mrs Fraser.’
‘I awoke with a slight headache, and sought the solitude of the Chine, my sole companion a book,’ replied the widow.
‘I trust you are better?’ said Lavinia.
‘Yes, thanks. I never enjoy Tennyson so much as when surrounded by murmuring foliage, and my ears filled with the sound of falling waters.’
‘How charming to have preserved your sentiment till now,’ said Penelope in marked tones.
This remark may seem ill calculated to put the widow in a good-tempered frame of mind. But Miss Redgrave had uttered it advisedly. The more fully Mrs Fraser was impressed with her own increasing years and fading charms, the more likely she was to listen to the suit of the elderly-looking Septimus.
For a moment the widow coloured, as if in anger. ‘That is not exactly a complimentary remark, my dear Miss Redgrave.—Now, don’t apologise, for I am not in the least offended. How can I be, when I have a daughter, not only marriageable, but actually engaged to be married!’
The sisters simultaneously left off their needlework, and gazing in astonishment at the speaker, sat as mute as the twin sisters carved in stone in the sandy Egyptian desert.
‘Yes; Mr Lockwood has asked my consent to his marriage with Blanche, and I have graciously accorded the same. Heigh-ho! it will be a great trial for me, when the hour of parting comes.’
‘I congratulate you most sincerely, my dear Mrs Fraser,’ exclaimed Penelope. ‘We have known Frank from a child. He is everything that a man should be, clever, accomplished, with good prospects, and of high moral principles.’
The widow sighed. ‘I shall be very lonely. I have not an affectionate sister as you have; and when a woman has once known the happiness of married life, and the comfort and protection of an affectionate husband, life is indeed a blank when she is left utterly alone.’
Like a second Wellington, Penelope saw her chances of a successful attack. In love and war, the occasion is everything. She gently laid her spare fingers on the plump hand of the widow, and softly whispered: ‘Why should you be utterly alone, dear friend?’
Mrs Fraser directed an inquiring glance in response at the speaker.
‘We know of one who would be only too happy to be your companion for life,’ pursued Penelope. ‘Of a suitable age, amiable, and rich.’
The countenance of the widow was suffused with a soft blush as she said: ‘Where shall I find this earthly treasure?’
‘In this house, Mrs Fraser. Our beloved brother, Septimus.’
Mrs Fraser had much ado to avoid making a wry face, as she mentally contrasted the white-haired ‘brother’ with his vacuous expression of countenance, and the black-haired Frank Lockwood, with his bright intelligent glance and fascinating smile. But it was now quite as probable that she would marry the Emperor of China as the solicitor of the Redgrave family; so she softly murmured; ‘I had no suspicion of anything of the kind.’
Rapidly the widow reviewed all the attendant circumstances of the case. Von Moltke himself would have envied her comprehensive glance at the pros and cons of an important conjuncture of events. Septimus was of good family, of suitable age, possessed of ample means, and last, but not least in the eyes of the widow, was not too clever; and therefore, in all probability easily manageable, that indispensable desideratum in a husband. We are not sure that Mrs Fraser was correct in her deduction on this point, for foolish people are frequently obstinate, under the false idea that they are thereby displaying firmness.
‘If I were to accept Mr Redgrave on the instant, in consequence of your recommendation, my dear Penelope, neither he nor his sisters would respect me. I have always found great pleasure in the society of your brother, and have a great respect for his character. More, I am sure, my dear Penelope, you would neither expect, nor wish me to say.’
Both the sisters cordially kissed the blushing widow, and expressed themselves as quite satisfied with the avowal, Penelope adding: ‘I have more than a presentiment that in a few weeks we shall be enabled to give you the kiss of a sister.’
No more was said on the present occasion.
The widow retired to her chamber, and as she contemplated her features in the glass, soliloquised: ‘No—at forty, one must not be too particular; and there are twenty thousand excellent reasons why I should change my name from Fraser to that of Redgrave.’
It is needless to say that the sisters did not allow the grass to grow under their feet with respect to the proposed alliance between the families of Redgrave and Fraser. Much stress was laid by them in their conversations with the widow as to the shyness of their brother, and the necessity of some encouragement being extended to him. At length Septimus screwed his courage to the sticking-place and resolved to learn his fate. By a singular coincidence, he found the widow seated on the identical bench occupied on a similar occasion by her youthful daughter. An involuntary sigh escaped him as he mentally instituted a comparison between the sylph-like figure of Blanche and the more portly form of her mother. As he sat down by her side in response to her invitation, he felt his courage oozing away. On the former occasion, he had been bold as a lion; but in the presence of the keen-witted woman of the world, he fully realised his mental inferiority. Some commonplaces ensued, and then Mrs Fraser, laying down the newspaper which she held in her hand, suddenly observed: ‘What is your opinion of thought-reading, Mr Redgrave? Do you believe in it?’
‘I scarcely know whether I do or not,’ responded Septimus. ‘Do you?’
‘Implicitly,’ replied the widow. ‘Shall I give you a specimen of my powers?’
‘I should be delighted. Can you read my thoughts?’ said Septimus.
‘I can. But you must promise two things: That you won’t be offended at my guess; and that you candidly admit whether I am correct in my guess.’
‘I promise.’
‘Give me your hand.’
Septimus placed his trembling fingers in the strong grasp of the widow. ‘You are at this moment contemplating matrimony.’
‘That is correct,’ said Septimus.
‘The lady is a widow.’
‘Wonderful!’ cried Septimus. ‘Can you tell me her name?’
‘My powers do not extend so far,’ returned Mrs Fraser.
‘Your successful guess, my dear Mrs Fraser, has helped me out of a great difficulty.’
‘How so?’
‘You have half-performed my task for me. Do you think a lady, handsome, rich, and well-bred, and still comparatively young, would consent to unite her fortunes with mine? I am some ten or a dozen years her senior. I have been a bachelor all my life, and may have thus acquired peculiar ways. But I would settle the whole of my cousin’s legacy upon her, if she would take pity on my solitary state. Dear Fanny, can you not guess, without thought-reading, the name of my enslaver?’
The widow looked down and managed to blush becomingly, and impart a slight tremor to the hand which still held that of Septimus.
‘I will not affect to misunderstand you, Mr Redgrave; you are making my unworthy self an offer of marriage.’
‘And you accept it?’
‘I do.’
Septimus sealed the contract by a chaste kiss on the cheek of the widow, and felt a sensation of inexpressible relief that the Rubicon, for good or evil, was passed.
‘I may now tell you, dear Septimus, that Blanche is also engaged.’
‘I know it.’
‘Impossible! I only knew it myself forty-eight hours ago!’
‘Do not ask me at present, dear Fanny. I learned the fact by an accident.’
The widow presently retired to her chamber, under the plea of nervous agitation, but in reality to inform her daughter of her engagement. But it was reserved for Septimus to perform that pleasant duty. Scarcely had Mrs Fraser retired, when Blanche appeared on the terrace. ‘Have you seen mamma, Mr Redgrave?’
‘Mrs Fraser has this moment left me.—Blanche, I have a favour to ask of you.’
‘Of me!’
‘That you will not breathe a syllable to your mamma that I proposed to you three days ago; at least, not for the present.’
‘Certainly, Mr Redgrave.’
‘You will at once see the necessity for my request, when I tell you that I have this day proposed to another lady and been accepted.’
Blanche indulged in a merry peal of laughter, which she found it impossible to repress. ‘Pray, forgive me, Mr Redgrave. I congratulate you that you have so speedily recovered from your late rejection.’
‘Yes, Blanche, as I could not be your husband, I have resolved on being your father.’
Blanche remained petrified with astonishment for a few seconds, then exclaiming: ‘I must go at once to dear mamma and congratulate her,’ prepared to enter the house.
But Septimus seized her hand and said: ‘Now, tell me the name of your future partner. Though I shrewdly suspect, yet I think in my new position as your father I am entitled to know for certain?’
‘Mr Frank Lockwood,’ replied the blushing girl, as she broke away and ran into the house.
There was not a happier circle round a dinner-table in the island than that assembled in Oswald Villa that evening. The engaged couples were mutually satisfied with their matrimonial prospects, while the spinster sisters saw the wish of their hearts gratified in the engagement of their beloved brother with so suitable a person as Mrs Fraser. But at that moment a cloud was forming on the horizon which was destined to effect a great change in the fortunes of the betrothed couples.