Byron.
The news of the restoration of Randolph to his ancestral towers had already diffused joy through the homes of his tenantry; and the fulfilment of Dame Miniver's prediction respecting his marriage completed the exultation. There was not a heart in the village that was not made lighter by the account of the alliance between Pendarrel and Trevethlan. The castle was busy with the labours of upholsterers and all their tribe, actively employed under the superintendence of the steward and his wife, in renovating some of its ancient splendour; and the Trevethlan Arms rejoiced in their patronage at the close of the day. Old Jeffrey was half frantic with excitement and delight, practising the manœuvre of hoisting and striking a new flag often and often, until it was suggested to him that, by so doing, he deprived the ensign of its significance.
Great preparations were also being made for the reception of the bride and bridegroom. A triumphal arch at the entrance of the green, and another over the gate of the base-court, were ready to be decked with flowers and streamers, when the happy occasion should arrive; for the merry month of May was come, and nature was robing the land in its gayest attire. Mistress Miniver's good-humoured face beamed with delight from sunrise to sunset, and the joyousness of her looks was reflected in the countenances of her neighbours.
Yet this happiness was not unalloyed. There were still not a few absentees from the family hearth, lamenting their turbulence in captivity. Even with respect to them, however, anxiety was mitigated, for it was now understood that Mrs. Pendarrel was inclined to intercede in their behalf. And she had already contributed to the enlargement of Edward Owen. For, inquiring one day, in her languid manner, concerning the mode in which the missing Wyley had been discovered, Randolph mentioned Owen as instrumental in the matter, and she remembered how a man of that name had rescued herself and family from outrage on the night of the fire. And on her representations the young rustic was admitted to bail, with an intimation that his being called up for trial would depend upon his future conduct.
But if he had conceived any hope of finding favour in another quarter, he was disappointed. Mercy Page was as coy as before. Perhaps the very unpopularity of Michael Sinson had contributed to support his cause in the maiden's heart; and certainly the taunts with which she was sometimes assailed were not calculated to change her mind. She had almost sequestered herself from the neighbouring villagers, and either sat at home in her mother's cottage, or walked out late in the evening by herself. On such occasions she was jealously watched, and well it proved for her in the end that it was so.
But Edward was not one of the spies upon her steps. He began to feel chilled by her enduring coldness, and listened more complacently than of old to the words of those who said he might better himself, and particularly to any hints of the kind which fell from the mirthful landlady of the Trevethlan Arms. Farmer Colan once told her, she might not object to change her name; and now a rumour to the same effect became very current in the gossip of the hamlet.
And another topic furnished food to the village scandal-mongers. It was said Michael Sinson had returned to his old country. And it was true. He had left London, writhing under a manifold disappointment, baffled in all his evil desires and devices. Moreover, he suspected that Mr. Truby was strongly inclined to bring him to justice. But unlike his wretched victim, Everope, he was unacquainted with shame, and unstung by remorse. He regretted and resented his want of success; but he rather admired than deplored the subtile villany of his schemes. Sulky and angry, he fled from the metropolis to the dwelling of his grandmother, Wilderness Lodge. Mrs. Pendarrel had not displaced the old gate-keeper. There Michael brooded in silence and retirement for several days, during which his ill-temper was continually fretted, and his evil passions stimulated by the querulousness of the aged fanatic. Shrewd enough was old Maud to see that her favourite had by no means achieved the success which she had foretold for him. He was far away from qualification for that angelic choir, which his mere name appeared to her to entitle him to enter.
The news of his arrival reached the ears of his old flame, probably in some sarcastic shape; and Mercy threw herself in his way. But he thrust her rudely aside, and with so dark a scowl upon his brow that she thought involuntarily of Dame Gudhan's predictions, and shuddered at the recollection. The account of the meeting was soon circulated round the green of Trevethlan, and gave new force to the ill looks which were cast upon the luckless maiden. But it did not lull the activity, half hopeful and half fearful, with which her steps were dogged.
Meanwhile old Maud harped perpetually on her grandson's failure, and on the attempt to disturb her Margaret's marriage. She was for ever lamenting the injustice done to Michael, and calumniating the house of Trevethlan for its treatment of her favourite daughter. Neither topic was agreeable to Sinson; and at length, irritated at home beyond control, he showed himself among the rural habitations. But he went only to meet with fresh mortification. Every one seemed to know his history. People turned their backs upon the traitor. Children mocked and flouted him. Scorn surrounded him on all sides, and in every shape. Daring to present himself at the Trevethlan Arms, he was ejected with violence and derision, and was hooted and pelted from the village green. And among the foremost of his assailants he recognised his ancient rival. There was nothing for it but to endure the petulance of his fanatical grandmother.