CHAPTER XII.
_Containing the Intimation of a Somewhat Mysterious Adventure_.
IT WAS absolutely necessary that Lady Armine's interview with her sonbe confined merely to observations about his health. Any allusion tothe past might not only produce a relapse of his fever, but occasionexplanations, at all times most painful, but at the present full ofdifficulty and danger. It was therefore with feelings of no commonanxiety that Glastonbury prepared the mother for this first visit toher son, and impressed upon her the absolute necessity of not making anyallusion at present to Miss Grandison, and especially to her presence inthe house. He even made for this purpose a sort of half-confidant of thephysician, who, in truth, had heard enough during the fever to excitehis suspicions; but this is a class of men essentially discreet, and itis well, for few are the family secrets ultimately concealed from them.
The interview occurred without any disagreeable results. The next day,Ferdinand saw his father for a few minutes. In a short time, Lady Arminewas established as nurse to her son; Sir Ratcliffe, easy in mind,amused himself with his sports; and Glastonbury devoted himself to MissGrandison. The intimacy, indeed, between the tutor of Ferdinand and hisintended bride became daily more complete, and Glastonbury was almosther inseparable companion. She found him a very interesting one. Hewas the most agreeable guide amid all the haunts of Armine and itsneighbourhood, and drove her delightfully in Lady Armine's pony phaeton.He could share, too, all her pursuits, and open to her many new ones.Though time had stolen something of its force from the voice of AdrianGlastonbury, it still was wondrous sweet; his musical accomplishmentswere complete; and he could guide the pencil or prepare the herbal, andindite fair stanzas in his fine Italian handwriting in a lady's album.All his collections, too, were at Miss Grandison's service. She handledwith rising curiosity his medals, copied his choice drawings, and evenbegan to study heraldry. His interesting conversation, his mild andbenignant manners, his captivating simplicity, and the elegant purity ofhis mind, secured her confidence and won her heart. She loved him as afather, and he soon exercised over her an influence almost irresistible.
Every morning as soon as he awoke, every evening before he composedhimself again for the night's repose, Ferdinand sent for Glastonbury,and always saw him alone. At first he requested his mother to leavethe room, but Lady Armine, who attributed these regular visits to aspiritual cause, scarcely needed the expression of this desire. Hisfirst questions to Glastonbury were ever the same. 'Had he heardanything? Were there any letters? He thought there might be a letter,was he sure? Had he sent to Bath; to London, for his letters?' When hewas answered in the negative, he usually dwelt no more upon the subject.One morning he said to Glastonbury, 'I know Katherine is in the house.'
'Miss Grandison _is_ here,' replied Glastonbury.
'Why don't they mention her? Is all known?'
'Nothing is known,' said Glastonbury.
'Why don't they mention her, then? Are you sure all is not known?'
'At my suggestion, her name has not been mentioned. I was unaware howyou might receive the intelligence; but the true cause of my suggestionis still a secret.'
'I must see her,' said Ferdinand, 'I must speak to her.'
'You can see her when you please,' replied Glastonbury; 'but I would notspeak upon the great subject at present.'
'But she is existing all this time under a delusion. Every day makes myconduct to her more infamous.'
'Miss Grandison is a wise and most admirable young lady,' saidGlastonbury. 'I love her from the bottom of my heart; I would recommendno conduct that could injure her, assuredly none that can disgrace you.'
'Dear Glastonbury, what shall I do?'
'Be silent; the time will come when you may speak. At present, howeveranxious she may be to see you, there are plausible reasons for your notmeeting. Be patient, my Ferdinand.'
'Good Glastonbury, good, dear Glastonbury, I am too quick and fretful.Pardon me, dear friend. You know not what I feel. Thank God, you do not;but my heart is broken.'
When Glastonbury returned to the library, he found Sir Ratcliffe playingwith his dogs, and Miss Grandison copying a drawing.
'How is Ferdinand?' enquired the father.
'He mends daily,' replied Glastonbury. 'If only May-day were at handinstead of Christmas, he would soon be himself again; but I dread thewinter.'
'And yet the sun shines.' said Miss Grandison.
Glastonbury went to the window and looked at the sky. 'I think, my dearlady, we might almost venture upon our promised excursion to the Abbeytoday. Such a day as this may not quickly be repeated. We might take oursketch-book.'
'It would be delightful,' said Miss Grandison; 'but before I go, I mustpick some flowers for Ferdinand.' So saying, she sprang from her seat,and ran out into the garden.
'Kate is a sweet creature,' said Sir Ratcliffe to Glastonbury. 'Ah!my dear Glastonbury, you know not what happiness I experience in thethought that she will soon be my daughter.'
Glastonbury could not refrain from sighing. He took up the pencil andtouched her drawing.
'Do you know, dear Glastonbury,' resumed Sir Ratcliffe, 'I had littlehope in our late visitation. I cannot say I had prepared myself forthe worst, but I anticipated it. We have had so much unhappiness in ourfamily, that I could not persuade myself that the cup was not going tobe dashed from our lips.'
'God is merciful,' said Glastonbury.
'You are his minister, dear Glastonbury, and a worthy one. I know notwhat we should have done without you in this awful trial; but, indeed,what could I have done throughout life without you?'
'Let us hope that everything is for the best,' said Glastonbury.
'And his mother, his poor mother, what would have become of her? Shenever could have survived his loss. As for myself, I would have quittedEngland for ever, and gone into a monastery.'
'Let us only remember that he lives,' said Glastonbury.
'And that we shall soon all be happy,' said Sir Ratcliffe, in a moreanimated tone. 'The future is, indeed, full of solace. But we must takecare of him; he is too rapid in his movements. He has my father's bloodin him, that is clear. I never could well make out why he left Bath sosuddenly, and rushed down in so strange a manner to this place.'
'Youth is impetuous,' said Glastonbury.
'It was lucky you were here, Glastonbury.'
'I thank God that I was,' said Glastonbury, earnestly; then checkinghimself, he added, 'that I have been of any use.'
'You are always of use. What should we do without you? I should long agohave sunk. Ah! Glastonbury, God in his mercy sent you to us.'
'See here,' said Katherine, entering, her fair cheek glowing withanimation, 'only dahlias, but they will look pretty, and enliven hisroom. Oh! that I might write him a little word, and tell him I am here!Do not you think I might, Mr. Glastonbury?'
'He will know that you are here to-day,' said Glastonbury.'To-morrow-----'
'Ah! you always postpone it,' said Miss Grandison, in a tone halfplayful, half reproachful; 'and yet it is selfish to murmur. It is forhis good that I bear this bereavement, and that thought should consoleme. Heigho!'
Sir Ratcliffe stepped forward and kissed his niece. Glastonbury wasbusied on the drawing: he turned away his face.
Sir Ratcliffe took up his gun. 'God bless you, dear Kate,' he said; 'apleasant drive and a choice sketch. We shall meet at dinner.'
'At dinner, dear uncle; and better sport than yesterday.'
'Ha! ha!' said Sir Ratcliffe. 'But Armine is not like Grandison. IfI were in the old preserves, you should have no cause to jeer at mysportsmanship.'
Miss Grandison's good wishes were prophetic: Sir Ratcliffe foundexcellent sport, and returned home very late, and in capital spirits. Itwas the dinner-hour, and yet Katherine and Glastonbury had not returned.He was rather surprised. The shades of evening were fast descending, andthe distant lawns of Armine were already invisible; the low moan of therising wind might be just distinguished; and the coming
night promisedto be raw and cloudy, perhaps tempestuous. Sir Ratcliffe stood beforethe crackling fire in the dining-room, otherwise in darkness, but theflame threw a bright yet glancing light upon the Snyders, so that thefigures seemed really to move in the shifting shades, the eye of theinfuriate boar almost to emit sparks of rage, and there wanted butthe shouts of the huntsmen and the panting of the dogs to complete thetumult of the chase.
Just as Sir Ratcliffe was anticipating some mischance to his absentfriends, and was about to steal upon tip-toe to Lady Armine, who waswith Ferdinand, to consult her, the practised ear of a man who livedmuch in the air caught the distant sound of wheels, and he went out towelcome them.
'Why, you are late,' said Sir Ratcliffe, as the phaeton approached thehouse. 'All right, I hope?'
He stepped forward to assist Miss Grandison. The darkness of the eveningprevented him from observing her swollen eyes and agitated countenance.She sprang out of the carriage in silence, and immediately ran up intoher room. As for Glastonbury, he only observed it was very cold, andentered the house with Sir Ratcliffe.
'This fire is hearty,' said Glastonbury, warming himself before it:'you have had good sport, I hope? We are not to wait dinner for MissGrandison, Sir Ratcliffe. She will not come down this evening; she isnot very well.'
'Not very well: ah! the cold, I fear. You have been imprudent in stayingso late. I must run and tell Lady Armine.'
'Oblige me, I pray, by not doing so,' said Glastonbury; 'Miss Grandisonmost particularly requested that she should not be disturbed.'
It was with some difficulty that Glastonbury could contrive that MissGrandison's wishes should be complied with; but at length he succeededin getting Sir Ratcliffe to sit down to dinner, and affecting acheerfulness which was far from his spirit, the hour of ten at lengtharrived, and Glastonbury, before retiring to his tower, paid his eveningvisit to Ferdinand.