In no long time, Randolph set forth on his way to Hampstead, to make his sister and the chaplain partakers of the reconciliation. On his way, he pondered over the train of events in which he had been involved, and admitted the wisdom of Polydore's judgment regarding death-bed injunctions and promises. He could not avoid reverting also to the fatal misunderstanding which, five-and-thirty years before, had laid the seed of so much bitter fruit. Was the harvest entirely gathered even now? It was a question which rose involuntarily in his mind. And the announcement which he made at Hampstead afforded his hearers a pleasure more unalloyed, it is probable, than any he felt himself. He reminded Mr. Riches of his promise to bestow the nuptial blessing, at the ceremony which would be performed in a few days, and there is no need to say that the chaplain undertook the duty with great delight. And to Helen he delivered an invitation to officiate as bridesmaid, and, in the interval, to occupy her old place at Mrs. Winston's. She accompanied him back to town.
That evening Polydore smoked a pipe with Mr. Peach in a more contented mood than he had enjoyed for some time. He hoped that the sun of Trevethlan was at last emerging from the clouds. The old clerk edified Clotilda, who sat with them rather later than usual, by divers narratives of remarkable elopements, but agreed with the chaplain that marriage in the regular way was a much better thing. And when Miss Peach had retired, the old bachelors fell into their usual humour, and sighed forth the praises of their Rose and Mabel.
"Better, methinks it is," said Polydore in conclusion, "to imagine my beloved Rose smiling upon me from the sky, than to have won her at the expense of another's peace of mind. Better to remember the patience and resignation with which she learnt to watch the stealthy approach of the destroyer, than to reflect upon the rashness which precipitated an unhallowed union. Better to cherish the love which death could not divide, and to look forward to its everlasting reward, than to rush to present enjoyment, and expiate it in future remorse."
The bridegroom invited Rereworth to attend the wedding, as his friend, and Seymour having of course agreed to do so, found an agreeable mode of employing the brief interval by renewing his visits in Cavendish-square. Many a time he went there with the full intention of appearing in his true character as a lover, should an opportunity offer, and as often he departed without having revealed his secret. The question which every man should ask once in his life, rose to his lips continually, and still remained unuttered. For Mrs. Winston saw plainly enough what was the state of affairs, and frequently contrived to leave Rereworth alone with the mistress of his heart. Why did he not avail himself of such an occasion? Was it from timidity, or doubt, or irresolution? No cause had he for fear, no reason for doubt, no wavering to disturb. But in the simple consciousness of being beloved, there was joy so calm and deep, it seemed a pity to ruffle it by any less tranquil emotion. Lie at hot noon under the trees which shade one of the "resting-places" of a great southern river, and you may gaze upon the level water until you cease to wish for the breeze which would cool your brow, because it would also ripple that placid expanse. And Rereworth, although confident of a favourable answer to his petition, yet delayed preferring it, because he was loth to flutter his present peaceful happiness, even by a declaration which would end in enhancing it. So the fond secret was still untold.
That smooth and unvarying affection offered a much fairer prospect of future felicity than the impetuous passion which had united Randolph and Mildred. Even now they felt they were far from serenity. The bridegroom could not overcome the constraint he experienced in the society of his father-in-law; he shrank with instinctive dislike from the Philip Pendarrel whom his own father had denounced in such bitter words; and the feeling was quickened by the cold and calculating prudence of the political manœuvrer. Randolph eagerly cut short all discussions about settlements, and other formalities, and escaped as soon as he could from a companionship which was full of disagreeable associations.
And Mildred was disquieted by the continuing change in her mother, who seemed to lose all care of the present in musing over the past. Yet this was a natural effect of the recent events, and it might reasonably be hoped that no great time would restore Mrs. Pendarrel to tranquillity and resignation.
But during the preparations for the new marriage, we must cast a rapid glance upon the hamlet of Trevethlan.
CHAPTER XVI.
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far checkering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted faggot's hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all gladness, and with eyes all mirth.