“I do not object to the burden,” he said gravely—“with her I accept it, such as it is. I do not ask for your sanction, because you gave it formally—you authorized my addresses to her. The question is now what can we best do to set this painful business at rest—to prove that it was mere accident—a chance that might happen to any one——”
“It is a delusion!” cried Mrs. Eastwood. “A mere delusion! there is nothing in it. Oh, Sir Alexis, believe me, though my children doubt. I hastened down to Sterborne as soon as Innocent came back; I got there on Monday morning—I saw all Mrs. Frederick’s family, every one concerned; the doctor assured me positively that she died of heart disease, as he had expected for years she would. Nobody had the slightest thought of Innocent as any way involved. There is not a suspicion—not an idea—in any mind but her own.”
Sir Alexis had risen as she began this statement, and gradually went forward to her, holding out his hands. Mrs. Eastwood rose, too, half sobbing, as she concluded, and gave him hers.
“Is this true?” he cried, with the water in his eyes, the unspeakable sense of relief proving to him, for the first time, what a horrible weight had been lying on his heart.
“Absolutely true!” she said, through her tears—feeling as she said it convinced by his faith, and by the intensity of her own words. What could be more sure? Every word she said to him was fact, as distinct and clear as it could be expressed—and yet——
Sir Alexis’ relief was so great that he rose into instant exhilaration and happiness. He dismissed the subject for the moment, and unfolded to Innocent’s guardian all he meant and wished to do. No end could be served, he said, by delay. He wished to marry her as soon as possible, to take her to Longueville, to Italy, to restore the freshness of her mind by new scenes. And the others, glad of the relief, entered into this lighter talk, and became almost merry over Innocent’s prospects. Yet Sir Alexis left The Elms almost with as grave a countenance as he had entered it. When the conversation returned to the subject of poor Innocent’s “delusion,” the further information they gave him brought back painful uncertainty to his mind. Was it simple delusion after all—or was there something true at the bottom—something which might still produce grief and sorrow to her, unhappy, and to all concerned?
CHAPTER XL.
FAMILY OPINIONS.
It was thought best that Innocent should be brought back that evening to The Elms, where Mrs. Barclay accompanied her full of smiles and congratulations. “Since he could not have the one, my dear, he set his heart upon having the other,” she said to Mrs. Eastwood; “otherwise I am sure he would never have married at all. He had made up his mind to have one of your girls. A good mother makes a good daughter; that has always been the doctrine in our family,—and oh, how glad I am that the old stock is not to be allowed to die out! It will be such a disappointment to the Huntly Longuevilles, they never could bear Alexis,—and I am sure if I once saw him with a nice wife and a young family, I would wish for nothing more in this world——”
“We must not go so fast,” said Mrs. Eastwood.
“Oh, no, of course we must say nothing about that,” said Mrs. Barclay, nodding and laughing in supreme satisfaction. She and her brother remained to dinner, and but for the moroseness of Frederick, who contemplated the whole matter with almost savage dissatisfaction, the evening would have been a more cheerful one than the Eastwood family had passed for some time. Frederick, however, was half frantic in his opposition when the party dispersed. He asked his mother how she could permit such a sacrifice,—how she could allow such a child to pledge herself to a man old enough to be her grandfather? “If you call that love for Innocent, I don’t know what love means,” he said.