“Of course they did,” exclaimed I. “What a self-tormenting idiot I have made of myself! However, I was only rightly served for ever having doubted your faith; but, dearest Clara, you must be subject no longer to the insolent attentions of Cumberland, or the sinister designs of Wilford; and it is at length my happiness to possess the power, as well as the will, to save you from further molestation; strange things have come to light.”
I then informed her of the existence of Mr. Frampton, and his relationship to her; told her of his generous intentions in my behalf, and how, thanks to these circumstances, her consent was the only thing wanting to our immediate union. With mingled surprise and pleasure she listened to my recital; and with downcast eyes and most becoming blushes, gave ear to my entreaties for pardon, and hopes that she would not throw any unnecessary delay in the way of our marriage. Before I left her, I had received full forgiveness for my unjust doubts and suspicions, and was allowed to indulge in a not unfounded hope that Mr. Frampton's recovery of his niece would only prove the precursor to my obtaining a wife. It was agreed that, on the following day but one, Mr. Frampton—who had to go to London to consult with his lawyer touching the legalities of the affair—should come to Barstone, and, bearding Mr. Vernor in his den, establish his claim. As Wilford was not to return till the same day, and as I proposed accompanying Mr. Frampton, I thought I should be alarming Clara unnecessarily if I were to inform her of Wilford's designs. I therefore merely cautioned her against him generally, begging her never to trust herself with him alone, and adding, that I hoped she would see nothing more of him before she was placed under the protection of her uncle, of whom I drew—as he so well deserved at my hands—a most favourable picture, though I did not attempt to conceal his eccentricities either of manner or appearance, considering it better she should be prepared for them beforehand. So we rode on side by side, happy in each other's society, the bright sunshine, which threw its golden mantle over the gnarled limbs and wide-spreading branches of the old trees beneath which we passed, being scarcely brighter or more genial than the joy which shed its sunlight on our hearts, replacing the dreary shadows of the past with fair hopes and gladsome prospects for the future; and when we parted, which was not till we had ridden a circuit of some miles, and exercise had brought back the rose to Clara's pale cheeks, and joy the smile to her lip, we did so in the full assurance that, after our next meeting, man's self-interest and injustice should be powerless to interfere further with our happiness. Were these bright hopes ever fated to be realised?
After cautioning old Peter to watch over his young mistress as a mother over her child, telling him I should return in time to frustrate any plan Wilford might devise, and begging him, if anything unexpected should occur, instantly to despatch a messenger to me, I took leave of Clara with one of those lingering pressures of the hand which tell, better than words, of full hearts, to which it is indeed grief to separate; and setting spurs to my horse, I rode back to Heathfield as different a being from what I was when I left it, as though I had literally “changed my mind” for that of some other individual.
My first care on reaching the Hall was to relieve Mr. Frampton's anxiety, and when he learned that his niece was not the jilt he had deemed her, but quite perfection (for that was what I stated, with the same quiet certainty of promulgating an incontrovertible fact, with which I should have declared twice two to be four), his delight knew no bounds, and the way in which he shook my hands, and slapped me on the back, and told me, with many grunts, that I should “marry the girl,” even if he had to thrash old Vernor with his own hand in order to obtain possession of her for me, was enough to do any one's heart good to witness. I had no lack of talking to get through myself either; first Harry Oaklands had to be told the successful issue of the day's adventure, then Fanny was to be taken into our confidence; and next, the greatest caution was to be observed, and many deep and politic schemes concocted, in order to bring my mother to a proper comprehension of the whole matter without completely overwhelming her—all which cunning devices were frustrated by Mr. Frampton, who got at her surreptitiously, and told her the entire affair in a short, sharp and decisive harangue, which completely upset her for the rest of the evening, and left a permanent impression on her mind, that somehow or other I had behaved very ill. Early on the following morning Mr. Frampton went off to town to consult his lawyer, promising to return in time for dinner, if possible, but at all events so as to be ready to start on our Barstone campaign the first thing the next day, that no time might be lost in freeing Clara from the disagreeables, if not positive dangers, which surrounded her. As I was crossing the hall after seeing Mr. Frampton off, Lawless seized me by the arm, and drawing me on one side, began: “I say, Frank, I want a word with you; there's something gone wrong with Freddy Coleman. I never saw him so down in the mouth before; there's a screw loose somewhere, depend upon it.”
“Something wrong with Freddy,” repeated I, “impossible! why I was laughing with him a quarter of an hour ago; he was making all sorts of quaint remarks on the chaise that came for Mr. Frampton, and poking fun at the post-boy. Where is he?”
“Eh? wait a bit, I'll tell you directly; he had a letter brought him just as Governor Frampton started, and as he cast his eye over it, he first got as red as a carrot, then he turned as pale as a turnip, and bolted off into the library like a lamplighter, where he sits looking as if he had been to the wash, and come back again only half-starched.”
“That's better than if he were 'terribly mangled,' to carry on your simile,” returned I; “but didn't you ask him what was the matter?”
“Eh? no, I've made such a mess of things lately, that I thought I'd better leave it alone, for that I was safe to put my foot in it one way or other, so I came and told you instead.”
“Well, we'll see about it,” replied I, turning towards the library; “perhaps he has received some bad news from home: his father or mother may be ill.”
On entering the room we perceived Coleman seated in one of the windows, his head resting on his hand, looking certainly particularly miserable, and altogether unlike himself. So engrossed was he that he never heard our approach, and I had crossed the room, and was close to him, before he perceived me; consequently, the first word I uttered made him jump violently—an action which elicited from Lawless a sotto voce exclamation of, “Steady there, keep a tight hand on the near rein; well, that was a shy!”