A Search For A Secret: A Novel. Vol. 1

  CHAPTER X.

  SUNSHINE AND SHADOW.

  Although I had enjoyed my trip to London immensely, yet I was very, veryglad to get back to my dear old home again; happier even than before,for now, in addition to all my former home-pleasures, I had a secretsource of happiness to muse over when alone. How bright life appeared tome, how thankful I felt for all my deep happiness, and how my heartseemed to open to all created things!

  I had only one cause for sorrow, and that one which had for years beenseen as a dim shadow in the far distance, but which had been for thelast two or three years past increasing in magnitude, growing from vagueill-defined dread, to the sad certainty of coming grief. I mean therapidly failing health of mamma.

  From my farthest back remembrance of her she had never been strong. Not,perhaps, suffering from any decided pain or illness, but weak andlanguid, and unequal to any unusual exertion. For years the great partof her time had been spent on the sofa, but during the last few monthsshe had been unmistakably failing; on my return home after my visit inLondon I found that there was a marked change in her appearance, andthat she had grown decidedly thinner and weaker in that short time.

  Papa, I could see, was very anxious about her; he was a good deal moreat home now, and spent as much time as he could spare in the room withher, bringing his books in there, and sitting to study where she couldsee his face, and so close that she could exchange a few words with himoccasionally without having to raise her voice. Ill as mamma was, Ithink she was never so happy in her married life as she was at thattime. She now no longer troubled herself with domestic arrangements, butleft all that to me, and was content to lie, holding a book in herwasted hands, and looking fondly across at her husband at his reading.When papa was there she liked, I think, best being alone with him andher thoughts; but when he was out, I used to take my work and sit besideher, and talk when she felt inclined, which was not often. Indeed, I hadonly one long conversation with her, which was about a month after Icame back.

  She had been lying very quiet one day, not speaking at all, but watchingme while I worked, when she said:

  "You have told us all about your trip to London, Agnes, and about yourgaieties and amusements; but I do not think you have told all. As yousit there I can see sometimes the colour come up over your face, andyour lips part a little, and your eyes soften, while your fingers lieidle on your work. Have you not some pleasant thoughts, dearest--somesweet hope for the future which you have not yet spoken of? Tell me,darling. I have not much longer to be with you, and it would make mylast time more happy to be able to think of your future as somewhatsecured, and to picture you to myself as mistress of some happy home. AmI right, my child? Have you some such hope?"

  Kneeling down beside her, when my tears suffered me to speak, I told herall that had passed between me and Percy, and that, although not yetactually engaged, we should be when he came down, if papa and sheapproved of him; and I explained to her the reason why I had not at oncetold them about it was, that I wished them to see him with unbiased eyesfirst of all, and to like him for his own sake, before they did formine. Mamma asked me several questions about Percy's dispositions andhabits, which I answered as minutely and fairly as I could; when I haddone she said:

  "I think from what you say, my darling, he will make you very happy, andI shall be able to trust you to him. I shall look forward to seeing him.I am very glad you have told me, my child; I shall have pleasantthoughts of the future now, in addition to all my happy memories of thepast."

  From this time mamma grew fonder than ever of having me with her, andwould watch me as she watched papa. She liked me best to sit on a lowstool beside her, so close that without exertion she could softly strokemy hair, and let her poor thin hand rest on my head. I did not go outanywhere, except over to Sturry. There I went as often as I could; for Iliked Sophy, and loved Mr. Harmer, as indeed I had good reason to do.About him papa was very uneasy; he had had a rather severe stroke ofparalysis when I was away in London, and, although he had greatlyrecovered from it, he still felt its effects, and papa said that he mustbe kept very quiet, for that any excitement might bring on another andfatal attack.

  The first time I went over to see Mr. Harmer, I was quite shocked at thechange which had taken place since I had last seen him, little more thantwo months before. He rose to meet me when I went into the library wherehe was sitting, with quite his old smile of welcome, and I did not somuch notice the change till he was fairly on his feet. Then indeed I sawhow great it was. His old free, erect bearing was gone, and he stoodupright with difficulty, and when he tried to walk, it was in a stiffand jointless sort of way, very painful to see. But the greatestalteration was in his voice; formerly he spoke in such a frank, hearty,joyous way, and now each word seemed to come out slowly and withdifficulty. Although papa had warned me that I should see a great changein him, I had no idea of such a terrible alteration as this, and it wasso great a shock to me, that I could not help breaking down and crying.

  "You must not do that," Mr. Harmer said, placing me in a chair at oneside of him, while Sophy, who had gone in with me, sat on the other, andhe took my hand in his own, and held it there the whole time I was withhim. "You must not cry, Agnes; I am getting an old man, and could not,in the ordinary course of nature, have expected to have lived many yearsmore. I have led a very happy life, and have innumerable blessings to bethankful for; not the least, although that may seem selfish on my part,that there are some who care for me in my age, and who will be sorrywhen I am taken away. There, my dear, dry your eyes, and give me a fulldescription of all your gaieties in London."

  I told him all about what I had been doing, where I had gone, andeverything I could think of likely to amuse him, and was still in themiddle of my story when Miss Harmer came in.

  "I am very sorry to have to disturb you Miss Ashleigh," she said, aftershaking hands with me, "for I know how much my brother enjoys a talkwith you; but your papa's orders were so very strict, that on no accountshould he be allowed to talk for long at a time, that I really must puta stop to your conversation."

  I had not seen Miss Harmer for some time, for she and her sister hadbeen away on the Continent for two years previously, and had returnedonly on receipt of the news of their brother's illness.

  When Miss Harmer spoke, I got up at once to leave, feeling a littleashamed of my own thoughtlessness, for papa had particularly warned mebefore I started, not to talk long; but I had quite forgotten hisinjunction, in the pleasure Mr. Harmer had evidently felt in listeningto me.

  "You see, my dear," he said, "I must do as I am told now; but you willcome again soon to see me, will you not?"

  I promised to come as soon as I could, and from that time whenever mammacould spare me, I went over for half an hour's chat with Mr. Harmer,very often at first, but as he got better, and mamma became weaker, ofcourse my visits became very much less frequent.

  During my visits at this time, I was a good deal puzzled about Sophy.There was something in her manner, which I could not at all understand.She was evidently extremely attached to her grandfather, and wasunwearied in her constant attention to him; and yet at times it appearedto me that her thoughts were far off from what was passing before her,and that after one of these fits of abstraction she would rouse herselfwith almost a start, and then glance furtively at Mr. Harmer, as ifafraid that he had noticed it. When he praised her too, which he oftendid to me, for her care and kindness to him, I fancied that she almostshrank from his praise in a sort of pained way, as if she felt that hiscommendation was undeserved. I daresay at any other time I might havethought a great deal about this; but as it was I had so much to occupyme. What with my mother's almost daily increasing weakness; what withthe rapidly approaching visit of Ada and Percy; what with my own griefand my own happiness, I had no thoughts to give to Sophy. Perhaps on mywalk home from Sturry, I wondered and puzzled as to her conduct; butonce past my own doors, all thought of her and her mysterious ways, werelaid aside till I started for my next visit to Har
mer Place.

  I have not mentioned that after I had told mamma about Percy, I supposeshe must have hinted something to papa; at any rate he wrote to Percy,saying that hearing from his daughter that he proposed accompanying hissister Ada on a visit to Lady Dashwood's, he should be very glad if,like her, Percy would take Canterbury on his way, and stay for a weekwith us. Percy answered the letter in the affirmative. Papa's eyesrather twinkled with amusement as he one day at breakfast told me in acasual sort of way that he had written to Mr. Desborough, asking him tostay with us while his sister did, and that he had heard that morningthat his invitation was accepted.

  I know I tried to look unconscious, but finally had to go round thetable and rumple papa's hair all over, and tell him that he was a dearold goose.

  It was about two months after my return from London that I received aletter from Ada, saying that her brother had obtained leave of absenceagain, and that the season was now quite over, and London dreadfullyhot; that she longed to be out of it and in the country again, and thatif convenient she would come on that day week, and that Percy wouldaccompany her. I had been expecting this news for some time, still, nowthat it had come--now that I knew for certain that in another week Percywould be with me--it was very difficult to realize, and very hard,indeed, to go about looking tranquil and unconcerned under sisterPolly's watchful eye and sly remarks. Polly was now at home for theholidays, and during the week I many times wished her back at schoolagain, for she was really a serious plague to me. She had somehowguessed, or fancied she guessed, the state of things between Percy andme, and she was constantly making remarks about their coming visit, andthen slyly watching me to see the colour which would, on the mention ofhis name, mount up into my cheeks. I had, as a girl, a dreadful habit ofblushing, which, do what I would, I could not break myself of. It wasvery tiresome, and I would have given anything to have cured myself ofthe trick.

  So now, what with Polly's mischievous hints and my ridiculous habit ofblushing, I was made quite uncomfortable for that week. At last I had totell her she was annoying me very much, and that if she did it when theycame down I should be seriously angry with her. When she saw I was quitein earnest, she pretended to be very penitent, although I am sure shewas only amused; however, she gave it up as much as she could for thetime.

  At last the day came for them to arrive, and I went down to the train tomeet them with papa and Polly. I proposed this myself, as it was muchless embarrassing to meet in all that bustle and confusion than in thequiet of our hall.

  Presently the train came up, and I saw Ada's face at the window. We weresoon at the door and helped her out. When I had kissed her I shook handswith Percy and introduced him to papa, and they went off together tolook after the luggage, leaving us three girls talking on the platform.Altogether it had been much less embarrassing than I had feared. Papaordered a man to take the boxes round to our house, and we started towalk, retaining the same order; we girls together in front, and papa andPercy behind. So down Westgate, across the bridge over the Stour, andunder the noble old gate, which, so many centuries back, frowned downupon the haughty priest a Becket, as he passed under it upon that lastjourney to Canterbury from which he returned alive no more. It was anold gateway then, but still capable of a sturdy defence against theweapons of the time; for on either side the city walls stretched away,lofty and strong. Now, at this point they are gone, and the old gatewaystands isolated and alone; but it is still strong and well preserved,and looks as if, unless disturbed by the hand of man, it could biddefiance to the action of time for many a century yet to come. Underthis we walked, and then down the High Street, with its quaint,high-gabled, overhanging houses, and up the narrow lane which led to ourhouse. After we had lunched, we went up into the drawing-room, to mamma,who was very pleased to see Ada again, with her bright face and happylaugh,--for I did not mention in its proper place that Ada had spent oneof her Christmas holidays with us. Mamma looked very earnestly at Percy,as if she could read his character at a glance, and listened veryattentively to all he said. As we went out of the room--which we did inabout a quarter of an hour, for mamma could not bear so many in the roomfor long together--she kissed me, as I lingered behind the others, andpressed my hand lovingly, and I could see she was quite satisfied.

  I did not see much of Percy for the next two days, at which I was veryglad, for I could not help feeling a little awkward; and although Iendeavoured to soothe my conscience by telling myself that had I not puthim off he would have proposed to me when I was staying in London, yet Icould not help feeling that somehow I had invited him down here onpurpose for him to ask me to be his wife. For these two days he was asmuch as he could be with papa, accompanying him in his drives and rides,and I could see by papa's manner that he really liked him very much. Tome he was very nice, not at all showing me any marked attention so as tobe perceptible to any one else; and yet I could feel there was somethingdifferent in his tone of voice and manner when he addressed me to whathe used when he spoke to others. Ada and I found lots to talk about whenwe were alone; for although she had written very often, and given mevery full accounts, still there was an immense deal to tell me about allthe different balls she had been to since, and what engagements had beenmade during the season; I found, too, although this was a subject Adawas very chary of speaking of, that she herself had refused one verygood offer, and that she was rather under the ban of her lady-mother'sdispleasure in consequence. "She consoles herself, however," Ada said,"with the conclusion, that there are even better matches to be made thanthe one I refused, and that I must have set my mind on being a duchess;for that any idea of love is necessary for a marriage, is a matter whichnever entered her mind." Ada was a little bitter upon the subject, and Iwas sorry to see she was likely to have disputes with her mother uponthe point; for there was no doubt that Lady Desborough was a veryworldly woman, and I was quite sure that Ada, although at timesthoughtless and fond of admiration, would never marry any one, howeverhigh his rank, to whom she had not given her heart.

  The third morning of their visit I was up early, and went for my usuallittle stroll in the garden before breakfast. I had not been there manyminutes before Percy joined me, and when we went in together we wereengaged. I do not tell how it came about, what he said, or how Ianswered him. There is very little in the words thus spoken to interestothers, although so unutterably sweet to listen to. To me there issomething almost sacred in the thought of that time; far too sacred tobe told to any one; and even now, eight years after, my cheeks flush, myeyes fill with tears, and my fingers quiver at the thought of those fewwords, and of the kiss by which our engagement was sealed. Oh Percy,Percy, could we but have seen the future then! But, perhaps, betternot--better, certainly, for I have at least the pleasure left me oflooking back upon that short space of intense happiness--a memory whichis all my own, and which nothing can take away from me. I do not knowhow I made breakfast that morning--I am sure I must have made all sortsof blunders; but Ada, who at once saw what had happened, and Polly, whoI think guessed, chattered away so incessantly, that I was not obligedto take any part in the conversation. Ada afterwards told me that in thefirst cup of tea I gave her no milk, and that she saw me put no lessthan eight pieces of sugar into the second. I only hope the others werebetter, but I have serious doubts on the subject. After breakfast wasover, papa went into the study, and Percy at once followed him in there.As soon as the door closed upon them, Ada came round, and kissed me verywarmly and lovingly; and Polly, as soon as she saw by our manner thather suspicions were correct, and that Percy and I were engaged, firstnearly suffocated me with the violence of her embraces, and thenperformed a wild and triumphant _pas seul_ round the breakfast-table, ina manner directly opposed to the injunction and teaching of the MissesPilgrim and "Grendon House." Altogether she was quite wild, and I hadthe greatest difficulty in sobering her down, especially as Ada wasrather inclined to abet her in her folly.

  I shall pass very briefly over the remaining ten days that Percy and Adastayed with us,
for indeed that happy time is more than even now I canwrite about calmly. Papa's and mamma's consent was warmly given, andthey were very much pleased with Percy. The only drawback to papa'ssatisfaction at the match, was the fact of Percy being in the army, andthe thought of my going abroad. Percy, indeed, offered to leave theservice, but this I would not hear of. I knew how much he was attachedto his profession, and I had no objection to the thought of goingabroad; and my money, with his pay and allowance from his mother, wouldenable us to live in luxury in any part of the world.

  Two days after our engagement took place I received a very nice letterfrom Lady Desborough, saying how pleased she was to hear of Percy'schoice, and its success. She said a good many kind and complimentarythings, to which I did not, even at the time, attach much importance,for I knew well that it was only the fact of her son choosing, greatlyagainst her wishes, an active military life, which made her regard withapproval his engagement with myself. However, I did not fret seriouslyabout that; she gave her consent, and that was all that was required,while I had the hearty approval of my own dear parents in my choice. Ibelieved Percy loved me with all his heart, and I certainly did him withall mine. So the time they stopped with us went over very happily andquickly. Nothing was said before they went away about our marriage;indeed, mamma was so very ill, that it was a question which could not bediscussed, as of course I could not have left her in the state she wasin, and how long she might remain as she was no one could tell.

  However, it was willed that her stay with us should be even more briefthan our worst fears had whispered. Percy and Ada had not left us muchmore than a month, when papa said at breakfast one morning: "Agnes, Iwrote yesterday to Harry to come home; write to-day to Miss Pilgrim,asking her to send Polly home to-morrow." It did not need for me to lookin his face; the quiver of his voice told me his meaning: they were tocome home to see mamma before she died. What a dreadful shock it was. Ihad long known mamma must leave us soon, but she had so long been ill,and she changed so gradually, that, until papa spoke that morning, I hadnever realized that her time was so near at hand. Yet, when I recoveredfrom that terrible fit of crying, I remembered how I could count backfrom week to week, and see how the change, gradual as it seemed, had yetbeen strongly marked, and that the last two months had wrought terriblehavoc with her little remaining strength.

  At the beginning of that time she had been up nearly all day, lying onthe sofa. As time went on, she got up later and went to bed earlier; atthe end of the month, papa had taken to carrying her in, and now, forthe last ten days, her visits to the drawing-room had ceased altogether.She was wonderfully calm and patient, and through all those long monthsof illness, I never heard a murmur or word of complaint pass her lips.

  Polly arrived the day after I wrote, and was, poor child, in a dreadfulstate of grief. Harry came the day after: to him the shock was greaterthan to any of us. He had not seen her fading gradually away as we had,and although from our letters, he knew how ill she was, he had neveruntil he came back completely realized it.

  I pass over the week which mamma lived after Harry's return, as also theweek after her death. These solemn griefs are too sacred to bedescribed. Do we not all know them? For are not these great scenescommon to every one? Have we not all of us lost our darlings, our loves?Is there not an empty chair in every household; a place in every heartwhere one lives who is no longer seen on earth; a secret shrine whence,in the dead of the night, the well-known figure steps gently out, andcommunes with us over happy times that are gone, and bids us hope andwait for that happier meeting to come, after which there will be no moreparting and tears?