One half hour in the day, however, she was sure of being happy—the half hour when her brother Erasmus paid his visit. Of Alfred she saw little, for he was so much engaged with business, that a few minutes now and then were all he could possibly spare from his professional duties. Mr. Temple called. She was surprised to see him, for she thought he had been on his way to the continent; but he told her that difficulties had occurred, chiefly through the manoeuvres of Cunningham Falconer, and that he did not know when there would be an end of these—that Lord Oldborough was glad of the delay at present, because he wanted Mr. Temple’s assistance, as the other secretary had been taken ill, and his lordship had not yet fixed upon a confidential person to supply his place. Of course, in these circumstances, Mr. Temple was so much occupied, that Caroline saw very little of him; and she experienced what thousands have observed, that, however people may wish to meet in great towns, it is frequently impracticable, from small difficulties as to time, distance, and connexions. Of Mr. Gresham, Caroline had hoped that she should see a great deal—her brother Erasmus had long since introduced him to Lady Jane Granville; and, notwithstanding his being a merchant, her ladyship liked him. He was as much disposed as ever to be friendly to the whole Percy family; and the moment he heard of Caroline’s being in town, he hastened to see her, and showed all his former affectionate regard in his countenance and manner. But his time and his thoughts were now engrossed by an affair very near his heart, which he was impatient to bring to a termination. As soon as this should be accomplished, he was to set out for Amsterdam, where the concerns of his late partner, old Mr. Panton, as his correspondents wrote, imperiously demanded his presence.
This affair, which was so near Mr. Gresham’s heart, related to his dear Constance. Alfred had alluded to it in one of his letters, and Erasmus had begun to write the particulars to Rosamond; but he had not at the time leisure to finish the letter, and afterwards burnt it, being uncertain how the romance, as Alfred called it, might end. He therefore thought it prudent to say nothing about it. The whole story was now told to Caroline, and, briefly, was this.
After old Panton’s rage against Dr. Percy, in consequence of the suspicion that his daughter was in love with him; after the strange wig-scene, and the high words that followed, had driven Erasmus from the house, Constance went to her father, and, intent upon doing justice to Erasmus, at whatever hazard to herself, protested that he had not been the cause of her refusal of Lord Roadster. To convince her father of this, she confessed that her heart was not entirely disengaged—no threats, no persuasion, could, however, draw from her the name of the person whom she preferred: she knew that to name him would be only to ruin his fortune—that her father never would consent to her marrying him; nor had the object of her preference ever given her reason to think that he felt any thing more for her than regard and respect. Old Panton, the last man in the world to understand any delicacies, thought her whole confession “nonsense:” the agitation and hesitation with which it was made, and her eagerness to clear Dr. Percy’s credit, and to reinstate him in her father’s favour, conspired to convince the old man that his “own first original opinion was right.” Of this, indeed, he seldom needed any additional circumstances to complete the conviction on any occasion. During the remainder of his life he continued obstinate in his error: “If she likes any body else, why can’t the girl name him? Nonsense—that cursed Dr. Percy is the man, and he never shall be the man.” In this belief old Panton died, and what is of much more consequence, in this belief he made his will. On purpose to exclude Dr. Percy, and in the hope of accomplishing his favourite purpose of ennobling his descendants, he, in due legal form, inserted a clause in his will, stating, “that he bequeathed his whole fortune (save his wife’s dower) to his beloved daughter, upon condition, that within the twelve calendar months next ensuing, after his decease, she, the said Constance, should marry a man not below the rank of the son of a baron. But in case she, the said Constance, should not marry within the said twelve calendar months, or should marry any man below the rank of a baron, then and after the expiration of said twelve calendar months, the said fortune to go to his beloved wife, except an annuity of two hundred pounds a year, to be paid thereout to his daughter Constance.” Mr. Gresham was appointed sole executor to his will. As soon as it was decently possible, after old Panton’s decease, Lord Roadster renewed his suit to Constance, and was civilly but very steadily refused. Many other suitors, coming within the description of persons favoured by the will, presented themselves, but without success. Some making their application to Constance herself, some endeavouring to win her favour through the intercession of her guardian, Mr. Gresham—all in vain. Month after month had passed away, and Mr. Gresham began to be much in dread, and Mrs. Panton, the step-mother, somewhat in hopes, that the twelve calendar months would elapse without the young lady’s having fulfilled the terms prescribed by the will. Mr. Gresham, one morning, took his fair ward apart, and began to talk to her seriously upon the subject. He told her that he thought it impossible she should act from mere perverseness or caprice, especially as, from her childhood upwards, he had never seen in her any symptoms of an obstinate or capricious disposition; therefore he was well convinced that she had some good reason for refusing so many offers seemingly unexceptionable: he was grieved to find that he had not sufficiently won or deserved her confidence, to be trusted with the secret of her heart. Constance, who revered and loved him with the most grateful tenderness, knelt before him; and clasping his hand in hers, while tears rolled over her blushing cheeks, endeavoured to speak, but could not for some moments. At last, she assured him that delicacy, and the uncertainty in which she was whether she was beloved, were the only causes which had hitherto prevented her from speaking on this subject, even to him, who now stood in the place of her father, and who had ever treated her with more than a father’s kindness.
Mr. Gresham named Erasmus Percy.
“No.”
“Mr. Henry!”
“How was it possible that Mr. Gresham had never thought of him?”
Mr. Gresham had thought of him—had suspected that Mr. Henry’s love for Constance had been the cause of his quitting England—had admired the young man’s honourable silence and resolution—had recalled him from Amsterdam, and he was now in London.
But young Henry, who knew nothing of Mr. Gresham’s favourable disposition towards him, who had only commercial correspondence with him, and knew little of his character, considered him merely as the executor of Mr. Panton, and, with this idea, obeyed his summons home to settle accounts. When they met, he was much surprised by Mr. Gresham’s speaking, not of accounts, but of Constance. When Mr. Gresham told him the terms of Mr. Panton’s will, far from appearing disappointed or dejected, Mr. Henry’s face flushed with hope and joy. He instantly confessed to her guardian that he loved Constance passionately; and that now, when it could not be supposed he had mercenary views; now, when no duty, no honour forbad him, he would try his fate. He spoke with a spirit given by strong passion long repressed, and with a decision of character which his modesty and reserve of manner had, till now, prevented from appearing.
“Did he consider,” Mr. Gresham asked, “what he expected Miss Panton to sacrifice for him?”