"Will she, do you think?" she asked joyously.
"I hope so, and now for another point, my darling girl. My wife must be boldly—manfully sought; secure of your love, I will ask your hand from your uncle."
"My uncle!" she exclaimed in terror. "He never will consent; he will be doubly severe with me, urged on, I know, by Marmaduke Burton."
"Confide in me, Minnie; this must be done. Let them not say of me, that I came only in secret, afraid of the light. I have formed no plans; only this first necessary act must be put in practice: let time decide the rest. It was the assurance of your more than passing love, that I required, before appealing to your relations. I do not doubt you now, so my path is clear before me!"
For some time longer he argued with her, before, in her terror, she could see the necessity of this active measure; but when he showed her how soon he should be obliged, by engagements elsewhere, to quit this neighbourhood, and leave her, these circumstances, coupled with the absence of Marmaduke Burton, induced her to give a trembling consent, on condition that nothing should be hinted about their having met since her incarceration. Time, which always flies when we are happy, warned them to separate, and yet, with all his stoicism, when he turned towards the window, his courage to leave her failed him. "I am weaker than I thought, Minnie," he whispered, clasping her to his bosom, and kissing the fair open brow, which blushed beneath his embrace; "for I know not how to leave you in the great uncertainty of our meeting again soon. What if I lost you!" and, at the thought, his strong frame trembled. "I feel that would make me more than a desperate man—a perfectly reckless one! Child, how is it you have made me love you so well? how have you brought life where every feeling seemed dead? Remember, Minnie, when they urge, or, possibly, endeavour to coerce your will—remember what you hold in your keeping, and be firm!"
Minnie, in woman's weakness, wept, where he prayed. Weeping and prayers are bad sponsors for an affection—they baptize it in sorrow! One more embrace, and yet his dark eyes, clouding in trouble, could scarcely withdraw from her uplifted face; he turned again and again, and when his hand quitted hers, and his foot descended the ladder, he felt a desolation never felt before, not even when name and home were lost to him!
While Miles was thus pursuing the love which had sprung up in his heart, amid so many weeds, one sweet choice flower, scattered there by accident; his cousin Marmaduke was staying in Lancashire with an old maiden aunt. All, that such are represented, when sketched by an unloving pencil, and there he received daily reports from Juvenal, of the progress of his suit by proxy with Minnie. We have said fear made him quit the manor-house. People, when they scheme, trace out a suppositious line over which all their personages pass in succession; and they are sadly perplexed, when, by some most unforeseen circumstance, they step out of the road. 'Tis like a railway carriage running off the line; it frequently upsets all the others. It had never entered into the calculation of either Marmaduke or Juvenal, that Miles could in any manner hold converse or communication with Minnie, still less, have the audacity openly to seek her. Great then was the consternation of both—for one knew it nearly as soon as the other—when a letter arrived for Juvenal, written in manliness and dignity, before which, both, though unacknowledged, bowed in respect; stating, that well assured nothing could change either his love for Minnie, or her's for himself, he wrote, imploring Juvenal to consent to their union. He (Miles) had assured himself of her unalterable affection, the stronger for the coercion to which they endeavoured to subject it; and he could but implore her uncle and guardian, to consider how far he was acting in love towards her, to oppose this; that assured as he was of his own legitimacy, he only wanted time to prove it, until when he felt convinced Minnie would be happier as an artist's wife; for such was the profession he had made choice of, than as mistress of thousands, if they were separated. He then apologized for a seeming vanity in speaking thus positively; but he only quoted the words of lips incapable of speaking untruthfully—hers. He had not wealth to offer; but an unblemished name—and this he would prove—love unbounded, and the best wealth in the world—that earned by those talents which are spirits' gifts, etc., etc. We said, great was the consternation this letter aroused. Every line was an enigma. How had they met? How communicated with one another? Evidently they had done so, recently. Juvenal rushed off with the letter to Minnie's room. She grew very pale—then she thought of Miles, and her heart strengthened itself—it leaned on his love, and grew strong and fearless. Unhesitatingly she confirmed all the letter said, adding more, "That she never would marry another. She could not in honour; for all her affections were his." But she obstinately refused to hint even how they had communicated with one another. And Juvenal could only rail, and declare, that "Now she should marry Burton, and that right soon." Thus saying, he double-locked the door, and hurried off to Mrs. Gillett. Even with this evidence she would not believe that Minnie was the real object—'twas some trick! And she shook her head, as if she knew a great deal more than she gave utterance to. All this drove Juvenal nearly mad; like all persons of little mind, he was extremely curious; and this feeling predominated over even his annoyance at her firm refusal to marry Burton. He could not imagine how they had met. A ladder was the last means of communication he should have dreamed of. From Mrs. Gillett he flew to Sylvia, who joined in one common cause with him in perplexing her brains. Between them, they settled the blame somehow on Dorcas; for neither loved her—she was too unlike them. Sylvia blessed her own prudence, which had never inclined her to the love of any man! How easily we can abuse the thing which has never been offered to our acceptance! And here Juvenal committed the two most grievous errors he had yet been guilty of, in Minnie's case; he allowed Sylvia to visit her, who, by her harshness and reviling of Miles, Dorcas, and all whom the other loved or liked, only strengthened her love and resolution. Dorcas, who might have led her, was forbidden to have access; for Juvenal could be a tyrant when he pleased. The other error he committed, was by Burton's advice, leaving Tremenhere's letter unanswered—a contemptuous silence, which would raise a storm over his own head. This evening Tremenhere did not wander under Minnie's window, but went straight towards Mrs. Gillett's room, and in the beaten path, which lay in an unbroken line before his mind's eye, without hesitation he confessed to her, that her own error had induced his acquiescence about Lady Dora, that now, by no crooked ways, would he win his wife—for wife she should be; and he begged her to think of her young days, and of those when he was a favoured guest at Gatestone, now, driven hence for no fault of his own; and, in consideration of all these things, to procure him an interview with Minnie. She could easily arrange it, by bringing her to her room when all were at rest—for, by eleven o'clock, Gatestone was generally in profound repose—quiet, at all events. Mrs. Gillett was aghast at this confession. At first anger moved her; then her woman's kinder nature arose triumphant, and she consented for once—only once, to "do her best"—which meant, complete success, for she had the entire confidence of Juvenal, and keys of the prisoner's room. Mrs. Gillett was but a mere woman, though the oracle of so many; and, as she looked upon the tall handsome man pleading so earnestly before her, she could not resist him. She was not a woman to be bribed by money; power and flattering of her talents did much, however! It had been a day of great excitement to all; for Dorcas had sought Skaife, in his double capacity as friend and curate of the parish, and implored him to speak to and reason with her brother—she feared all from his ill-advised conduct towards his niece. Skaife was manliness itself; he felt much the loss of Minnie. Nevertheless, he never had permitted hope to lead him much astray as regarded her affection for himself. Miles he liked—their hearts kindled towards one another; and now, with every wish to serve him, even at his own expense, he sought Juvenal. In vain, however, he urged the injustice of condemning Tremenhere even if the law had rejected him as heir to the manor-house, it was his parent's error, if really he were illegitimate.
"If," said Juvenal, in his shrillest tenor; "I tell you he is, and a scamp into the bargain!"
"Pardon me, Mr. Formby," said the other, mildly, "if I ask your authority? I have made diligent inquiry before undertaking this mediation between you; which, let me add, is not from any solicitation of his. I say, I have made diligent inquiry; and Mr. Tremenhere, as son and master, bore the highest character in the neighbourhood, and is now spoken of by many with tears of regret."
"If he were a respectable man," said the irate Juvenal, "why did he go so often from home, and live many months together abroad?"