CHAPTER XXI.
CLOTHO, LACHESIS, AND ATROPOS.
The road from Ranford to Casterton, which is the name of Lord Hainault'splace, runs through about three miles of the most beautiful scenery.Although it may barely come up to Cookham or Cliefden, yet it surpassesthe piece from Wargrave to Henley, and beats Pangbourne hollow. LeavingRanford Park, the road passes through the pretty village of Ranford. Andin the street of Ranford, which is a regular street, the principal innis the White Hart, kept by Mrs. Foley.
Here, in summer, all through the long glorious days, which seem so hardto believe in in winter time, come anglers, and live. Here they ordertheir meals at impossible hours, and drive the landlady mad by notcoming home to them. Here, too, they plan mad expeditions with thefishermen, who are now in all their glory, wearing bright-patternedshirts, scornful of half-crowns, and in a general state of obfuscation,in consequence of being plied with strange liquors by their patrons, outof flasks, when they are out fishing. Here, too, come artists, withbeards as long as your arm, and pass the day under white umbrellas, inpleasant places by the waterside, painting.
The dark old porch of the inn stands out in the street, but the back ofthe house goes down to the river. At this porch there is generally agroup of idlers, or an old man sunning himself, or a man on horsebackdrinking. On this present occasion there were all three of these things,and also Lord Ascot's head-keeper, with a brace of setters.
As Charles rode very slowly towards the group, the keeper and the groomon horseback left off talking. Charles fancied they had been talkingabout him, and I, who know everything, also know that they had. WhenCharles was nearly opposite him, the keeper came forward and said--
"I should like to show you the first trout of the season, sir. Jim, showMr. Ravenshoe that trout."
A beautiful ten-pounder was immediately laid on the stones.
"He would have looked handsomer in another month, Jackson," saidCharles.
"Perhaps he would, sir. My lady generally likes to get one as soon asshe can."
At this stage the groom, who had been standing apart, came up, and,touching his hat, put into Charles's hand a note.
It was in Adelaide's handwriting. The groom knew it, the keeper knew it,they all knew it, and Charles knew they knew it; but what cared he?--allthe world might know it. But they knew and had been talking of somethingelse before he came up, which Charles did not know. If anything is goingwrong, all the country side know it before the person principallyconcerned. And all the country side knew that there had been a great andscandalous quarrel between Adelaide and Lady Ascot--all, except Charles.
He put the note in his pocket without opening it; he gave the groomhalf-a-crown; he bade good-bye to the keeper; he touched his hat to theloiterers; and then he rode on his way towards Casterton, down thevillage street. He passed the church among the leafless walnut trees,beneath the towering elms, now noisy with building rooks; and then, inthe broad road under the lofty chalk downs, with the elms on his left,and glimpses of the flashing river between their stems, there he pulledup his horse, and read his love-letter.
"DEAR CHARLES,--Ain't you very cross at my having been away when you came? I don't believe you are, for you are never cross. I couldn't help it, Charles, dear. Aunt wanted me to go.
"Aunt is very cross and tiresome. She don't like me as well as she used. You mustn't believe all she says, you know. It ain't one word of it true. It is only her fancy.
"Do come over and see me. Lord Hainault" (this I must tell you, reader, is the son, not the husband, of Lady Ascot's most cherished old enemy,) "is going to be married, and there will be a great wedding. She is that long Burton girl, whom you may remember. I have always had a great dislike for her; but she has asked me to be bridesmaid, and of course one can't refuse. Lady Emily Montfort is 'with me,' as the lawyers say, and of course she will have her mother's pearls in her ugly red hair."--
Charles couldn't agree as to Lady Emily's hair being red. He had thought it the most beautiful hair he had ever seen in his life.--
"_Pour moi_, I shall wear a camelia, if the gardener will give me one. How I wish I had jewels to beat hers! She can't wear the Cleveland diamonds as a bridesmaid; that is a comfort. Come over and see me. I am in agony about what aunt may have said to you.
"ADELAIDE."
The reader may see more in this letter than Charles did. The reader maysee a certain amount of selfishness and vanity in it: Charles did not.He took up his reins and rode on; and, as he rode, said, "By Jove,Cuthbert shall lend me the emeralds!"
He hardly liked asking for them; but he could not bear the idea of LadyEmily shining superior to Adelaide in consequence of her pearls. Had hebeen a wise man (which I suppose you have, by this time, found out thathe is decidedly not. Allow me to recommend this last sentence in agrammatical point of view), he would have seen that, with two suchglorious creatures as Adelaide and Lady Emily, no one would have seenwhether they were clothed in purple and fine linen, or in sackcloth andashes. But Charles was a fool. He was in love, and he was riding out tosee his love.
The Scotchman tells us about Spey leaping out a glorious giant fromamong the everlasting hills; the Irishman tells you of Shannon ramblingon past castle and mountain, gathering new beauty as he goes; theCanadian tells you of the great river which streams over the cliffbetween Erie and Ontario; and the Australian tells you of Snowy pouringeternally from his great curtain of dolomite, seen forty miles away bythe lonely traveller on the dull grey plains; but the Englishman tellsyou of the Thames, whose valley is the cradle of Freedom, and thepossessors of which are the arbiters of the world.
And along the Thames valley rode Charles. At first the road ran alongbeneath some pleasant sunny heights; but, as it gradually rose, theground grew more abrupt, and, on the right, a considerable down, withpatches of gorse and juniper, hung over the road; while, on the left,the broad valley stretched away to where a distant cloud of grey smokeshowed where lay the good old town of Casterton. Now the road entered adark beech wood beneath lofty banks, where the squirrels, merry fellows,ran across the road and rattled up the trees, and the air was faint withthe scent of last year's leaves. Then came a break in the wood to theright, and a vista up a long-drawn valley, which ended in a chalk cliff.Then a break in the wood to the left, and a glance at the flat meadows,the gleaming river, and the dim grey distance. Then the wood again,denser and darker than ever. Then a sound, at first faint andindistinct, but growing gradually upon the ear until it could be plainlyheard above the horse's footfall. Then suddenly the end of the wood, andbroad open sunlight. Below, the weirs of Casterton, spouting by ahundred channels, through the bucks and under the mills. Hard by,Casterton town, lying, a tumbled mass of red brick and grey flint,beneath a faint soft haze of smoke, against the vast roll in the landcalled Marldown. On the right, Casterton Park, a great woodedpromontory, so steep that one can barely walk along it, clothed withbeech and oak from base to summit, save in one place, where a bold lawnof short grass, five hundred feet high, stoops suddenly down towards themeadows, fringed at the edges with broom and fern, and topped with threetall pines--the landmark for ten miles along the river.
A lodge, the white gate of which is swung open by a pretty maiden; adark oak wood again, with a long vista, ended by the noble precipitoushill on which the house stands; a more open park, with groups of deerlying about and feeding; another dark wood, the road now rising rapidly;rabbits, and a pot-valiant cock-pheasant standing in the middle of theway, and "carrucking," under the impression that Charles is inpossession of all his domestic arrangements, and has come to disturbthem; then the smooth gravel road, getting steeper and steeper; then thesummit; one glimpse of a glorious panorama; then the front door andfootmen.
Charles sent his card in, and would be glad to know if Lady Hainaultcould see him. While he waited for an answer, his horse rubbed its
noseagainst its knee, and yawned, while the footmen on the steps looked atthe rooks. They knew all about it too. (The footmen, I mean, not therooks; though I wouldn't swear against a rook's knowing anything, mindyou.)
Lady Hainault would see Mr. Ravenshoe--which was lucky, because, if shewouldn't have done so, Charles would have been obliged to ask forAdelaide. So Charles's horse was led to the stable, and Charles was ledby the butler through the hall, and shown into a cool and empty library,to purge himself of earthly passions, before he was admitted to ThePresence.
Charles sat himself down in the easiest chair he could find, and gothold of "Ruskin's Modern Painters." That is a very nice book: it isprinted on thick paper, with large print; the reading is very good, fullof the most beautiful sentiments ever you heard; and there are alsocapital plates in it. Charles looked through the pictures: he didn'tlook at the letterpress, I know--for, if he had, he would have been sodeeply enchained with it that he wouldn't have done what he did--get up,and look out of the window. The window looked into the flower-garden.There he saw a young Scotch gardener, looking after his rose-trees. Hischild, a toddling bit of a thing, four years old (it must have been hisfirst, for he was a very young man), was holding the slips of mattingfor him; and glancing up between whiles at the great facade of thehouse, as though wondering what great people were inside, and whetherthey were looking at him. This was a pretty sight to a goodwhole-hearted fellow like Charles; but he got tired of looking at thateven, after a time; for he was anxious and not well at ease. And so,after his watch had told him that he had waited half an hour he rang thebell.
The butler came almost directly.
"Did you tell Lady Hainault that I was here?" said Charles.
"My lady was told, sir."
"Tell her again, will you?" said Charles, and yawned.
Charles had time for another look at Ruskin, and another look at thegardener and his boy, before the butler came back and said, "My lady isdisengaged, sir."
Charles was dying to see Adelaide, and was getting very impatient; buthe was, as you have seen, a very contented sort of fellow: and, as hehad fully made up his mind not to leave the house without a goodhalf-hour with her, he could afford to wait. He crossed the hall behindthe butler, and then went up the great staircase, and through thepicture-gallery. Here he was struck by seeing the original of one of theprints he had seen downstairs, in the book, hanging on the wall amongothers. He stopped the butler, and asked, "What picture is that?"
"That, sir," said the butler, hesitatingly, "that, sir--that is thegreat Turner, sir. Yes, sir," he repeated, after a glance at a Franciaon the one side, and a Rembrandt on the other, "yes, sir, that _is_ thegreat Turner, sir."
Charles was shown into a boudoir on the south side of the house, wheresat Lady Hainault, an old and not singularly agreeable looking woman,who was doing crotchet-work, and her companion, a strong-minded andvixenish-looking old maid, who was also doing crotchet-work. They lookedso very like two of the Fates, weaving woe, that Charles looked roundfor the third sister, and found her not.
"How d'ye do, Mr. Ravenshoe?" said Lady Hainault. "I hope you haven'tbeen kept waiting?"
"Not at all," said Charles; and if that was not a deliberate lie, I wantto know what is.
If there was any one person in the world for whom Charles bore acherished feeling of dislike, it was this virtuous old lady. Charlesloved Lady Ascot dearly, and Lady Hainault was her bitterest enemy. Thatwould have been enough; but she had a horrid trick of sharpening her witupon young men, and saying things to them in public which gave them ajustifiable desire to knock her down and jump on her, as the Irishreapers do to their wives; and she had exercised this talent on Charlesonce at Ranford, and he hated her as much as he could hate any one, andthat was not much. Lord Saltire used to say that he must give her thecredit of being the most infernally disagreeable woman in Europe.Charles thought, by the twitching of her long fingers over her work,that she was going to be disagreeable now, and he was prepared. But, toCharles's great astonishment, the old lady was singularly gracious.
"And how," she said, "is dear Lady Ascot? I have been coming, andcoming, for a long time, but I never have gone so far this winter."
"Lucky for aunt!" thought Charles. Then there was a pause, and a veryawkward one.
Charles said, very quietly, "Lady Hainault, may I see Miss Summers?"
"Surely! I wonder where she is. Miss Hicks, ring the bell."
Charles stepped forward and rang; and Miss Hicks, as Clotho, who hadhalf-risen, sat down again, and wove her web grimly.
Atropos appeared, after an interval, looking as beautiful as the dawn.So Charles was looking too intently at her to notice the quick, eagerglances that the old woman threw at her as she came into the room. Hisheart leapt up as he went forward to meet her; and he took her hand andpressed it, and would have done so if all the furies in Pandemonium werethere to prevent him.
It did not please her ladyship to see this; and so Charles did it oncemore, and then they sat down together in a window.
"And how am I looking?" said Adelaide, gazing at him full in the face."Not a single pretty compliment for me after so long? I requirecompliments; I am used to them. Lady Hainault paid me some thismorning."
Lady Hainault, as Lachesis, laughed and woved. Charles thought, "Isuppose she and Adelaide have been having a shindy. She and aunt fallout sometimes."
Adelaide and Charles had a good deal of quiet conversation in thewindow; but what two lovers could talk with Clotho and Lachesis lookingon, weaving? I, of course, know perfectly well what they talked of, butit is hardly worth setting down here. I find that lovers' conversationsare not always interesting to the general public. After a decent time,Charles rose to go, and Adelaide went out by a side door.
Charles made his adieux to Clotho and Lachesis, and departed at theother end of the room. The door had barely closed on him, when LadyHainault, eagerly thrusting her face towards Miss Hicks, hissed out--
"Did I give her time enough? Were her eyes red? Does he suspectanything?"
"You gave her time enough, I should say," said Miss Hicks, deliberately."I didn't see that her eyes were red. But he must certainly suspect thatyou and she are not on the best of terms, from what she said."
"Do you think he knows that Hainault is at home? Did he ask forHainault?"
"I don't know," said Miss Hicks.
"She shall not stop in the house. She shall go back to Lady Ascot. Iwon't have her in the house," said the old lady, furiously.
"Why did you have her here, Lady Hainault?"
"You know perfectly well, Hicks. You know I only had her to spite oldAscot. But she shall stay here no longer."
"She must stay for the wedding now," said Miss Hicks.
"I suppose she must," said Lady Hainault; "but, after that, she shallpack. If the Burton people only knew what was going on, the match wouldbe broken off."
"I don't believe anything is going on," said Miss Hicks; "at least, noton his side. You are putting yourself in a passion for nothing, and youwill be ill after it."
"I am not putting myself in a passion, and I won't be ill, Hicks! Andyou are impudent to me, as you always are. I tell you that she must begot rid of, and she must marry that young booby, or we are all undone. Isay that Hainault is smitten with her."
"I say he is not, Lady Hainault. I say that what there is is all on herside."
"She shall go back to Ranford after the wedding. I was a fool to havesuch a beautiful vixen in the house at all."
We shall not see much more of Lady Hainault. Her son is about to marrythe beautiful Miss Burton, and make her Lady Hainault. We shall seesomething of her by and by.
The wedding came off the next week. A few days previously Charles rodeover to Casterton and saw Adelaide. He had with him a note andjewel-case. The note was from Cuthbert, in which he spoke of her as hisfuture sister, and begged her to accept the loan of "these few poorjewels." She was graciously pleased to do so; and Charles took his leavevery soon, for the hous
e was turned out of the windows, and the next daybut one "the long Burton girl" became Lady Hainault, and Lady Ascot'sfriend became Dowager. Lady Emily did not wear pearls at the wedding.She wore her own splendid golden hair, which hung round her lovely facelike a glory. None who saw the two could say which was the mostbeautiful of these two celebrated blondes--Adelaide, the imperial, orLady Emily, the gentle and the winning.
But, when Lady Ascot heard that Adelaide had appeared at the weddingwith the emeralds, she was furious. "She has gone," said that deeplyinjured lady--"she, a penniless girl, has actually gone, and, without myconsent or knowledge, borrowed the Ravenshoe emeralds, and flaunted inthem at a wedding. That girl would dance over my grave, Brooks."
"Miss Adelaide," said Brooks, "must have looked very well in them, mylady!" for Brooks was good-natured, and wished to turn away herladyship's wrath.
Lady Ascot turned upon her and withered her. She only said, "Emeraldsupon pink! Heugh!" But Brooks was withered nevertheless.
I cannot give you any idea as to how Lady Ascot said "Heugh!" as I havewritten it above. We don't know how the Greeks pronounced the amazinginterjections in the Greek plays. We can only write them down.
"Perhaps the jewels were not remarked, my lady," said the maid, making asecond and worse shot.
"Not remarked, you foolish woman!" said the angry old lady. "Not remarka thousand pounds' worth of emeralds upon a girl who is very well knownto be a pensioner of mine. And I daren't speak to her, or we shall havea scene with Charles. I am glad of one thing, though; it shows thatCharles is thoroughly in earnest. Now let me get to bed, that's a goodsoul; and don't be angry with me if I am short tempered, for heavenknows I have enough to try me! Send one of the footmen across to thestable to know if Mahratta has had her nitre. Say that I insist on acategorical answer. Has Lord Ascot come home?"
"Yes, my lady."
"He might have come and given me some news about the horse. But there,poor boy, I can forgive him."