CHAPTER XXXIII.
A GLIMPSE OF SOME OLD FRIENDS.
Hitherto I have been able to follow Charles right on without leaving himfor one instant: now, however, that he is reduced to sitting on awheelbarrow in a stable-yard, we must see a little less of him. He is,of course, our principal object; but he has removed himself from theimmediate sphere of all our other acquaintances, and so we must look upsome of them, and see how far they, though absent, are acting on hisdestiny--nay, we must look up every one of them sooner or later, forthere is not one who is not in some way concerned in his adventures pastand future.
By reason of her age, her sex, and her rank, my Lady Ascot claims ourattention first. We left the dear old woman in a terrible taking onfinding that Charles had suddenly left the house and disappeared. Herwrath gave way to tears, and her tears to memory. Bitterly she blamedherself now for what seemed, years ago, such a harmless deceit. It wasnot too late. Charles might be found; would come back, surely--wouldcome back to his poor old aunt! He would never--hush! it won't do tothink of that!
Lady Ascot thought of a brilliant plan, and put it into immediateexecution. She communicated with Mr. Scotland Yard, the eminentex-detective officer, forwarding a close description of Charles, and arequest that he might be found, alive or dead, immediately. Her effortswere crowned with immediate and unlooked-for success. In a week's timethe detective had discovered, not one Charles Ravenshoe, but three, fromwhich her ladyship might take her choice. But the worst of it was thatneither of the three was Charles Ravenshoe. There was a remarkable pointof similarity between Charles and them, certainly; and that point wasthat they were all three young gentlemen under a cloud, and had allthree dark hair and prominent features. Here the similarity ended.
The first of the cases placed so promptly before her ladyship byInspector Yard presented some startling features of similarity with thatof Charles. The young gentleman was from the West of England, had beenat college somewhere, had been extravagant ("God bless him, poor dear!when lived a Ravenshoe that wasn't?" thought Lady Ascot), had beencrossed in love, the inspector believed (Lady Ascot thought she had gother fish), and was now in the Coldbath Fields Prison, doing two years'hard labour for swindling, of which two months were yet to run. Theinspector would let her ladyship know the day of his release.
This could not be Charles: and the next young gentleman offered to hernotice was a worse shot than the other. He also was dark-haired; buthere at once all resemblance ceased. This one had started in life withan ensigncy in the line. He had embezzled the mess funds, had been toCalifornia, had enlisted, deserted, and sold his kit, been abilliard-marker, had come into some property, had spent it, had enlistedagain, had been imprisoned for a year and discharged--here Lady Ascotwould read no more, but laid down the letter, saying, "Pish!"
But the inspector's cup was not yet full. The unhappy man was actingfrom uncertain information, he says. He affirmed, throughout all thelong and acrimonious discussion which followed, that his onlyinstructions were to find a young gentleman with dark hair and a hooknose. If this be the case, he may possibly be excused for catching acurly-headed little Jew of sixteen, who was drinking himself to death ina public-house off Regent Street, and producing him as CharlesRavenshoe. His name was Cohen, and he had stolen some money from hisfather and gone to the races. This was so utterly the wrong article,that Lady Ascot wrote a violent letter to the ex-inspector, of such anextreme character, that he replied by informing her ladyship that he hadsent her letter to his lawyer. A very pretty quarrel followed, which Ihave not time to describe.
No tidings of Charles. He had hidden himself too effectually. So the oldwoman wept and watched--watched for her darling who came not, and forthe ruin that she saw settling down upon her house like a dark cloud,that grew evermore darker.
And little Mary had packed up her boxes and passed out of the old house,with the hard, bitter world before her. Father Mackworth had met her inthe hall, and had shaken hands with her in silence. He loved her, inhis way, so much, that he cared not to say anything. Cuthbert wasoutside, waiting to hand her to her carriage. When she was seated hesaid, "I shall write to you, Mary, for I can't say all I would." Andthen he opened the door and kissed her affectionately; then the carriagewent on, and before it entered the wood she had a glimpse of the greyold house, and Cuthbert on the steps before the porch, bareheaded,waving his hand; then it was among the trees, and she had seen the lastof him for ever; then she buried her face in her hands, and knew, forthe first time, perhaps, how well she had loved him.
She was going, as we know, to be nursery-governess to the orphanchildren of Lord Hainault's brother. She went straight to London toassume her charge. It was very late when she got to Paddington. One ofLord Hainault's carriages was waiting for her, and she was whirledthrough "the season" to Grosvenor Square. Then she had to walk aloneinto the great lighted hall, with the servants standing right and left,and looking at nothing, as well-bred servants are bound to do. Shewished for a moment that the poor little governess had been allowed tocome in a cab.
The groom of the chambers informed her that her ladyship had gone out,and would not be home till late; that his lordship was dressing; andthat dinner was ready in Miss Corby's room whenever she pleased.
So she went up. She did not eat much dinner; the steward's-room boy inattendance had his foolish heart moved to pity by seeing how poor anappetite she had, when he thought what he could have done in that linetoo.
Presently she asked the lad where was the nursery. The second door tothe right. When all was quiet, she opened her door, and thought shewould go and see the children asleep. At that moment the nursery-dooropened, and a tall, handsome, quiet-looking man came out. It was LordHainault; she had seen him before.
"I like this," said she, as she drew back. "It was kind of him to go andsee his brother's children before he went out;" and so she went into thenursery.
An old nurse was sitting by the fire sewing. The two elder children wereasleep; but the youngest, an audacious young sinner of three, hadrefused to do anything of the kind until the cat came to bed with him.The nursery cat being at that time out a-walking on the leads, thenurserymaid had been despatched to borrow one from the kitchen. At thisstate of affairs Mary entered. The nurse rose and curtsied, and therebel clambered on her knee, and took her into his confidence. He toldher that that day, while walking in the square, he had seen achimney-sweep; that he had called to Gus and Flora to come and look;that Gus had been in time and seen him go round the corner, but thatFlora had come too late, and cried, and so Gus had lent her his hoop,and she had left off, &c., &c. After a time he requested to be allowedto say his prayers to her: to which the nurse objected on thetheological ground that he had said them twice already that evening,which was once more than was usually allowed. Soon after this the littlehead lay heavy on Mary's arm, and the little hand loosed its hold onhers, and the child was asleep.
She left the nursery with a lightened heart; but, nevertheless, shecried herself to sleep. "I wonder, shall I like Lady Hainault; Charlesused to. But she is very proud, I believe. I cannot remember much ofher.--How those carriages growl and roll, almost like the sea at dearold Ravenshoe." Then, after a time, she slept.
There was a light in her eyes, not of dawn, which woke her. A tall,handsome woman, in silk and jewels, came and knelt beside her and kissedher; and said that, now her old home was broken up, she must make onethere, and be a sister to her, and many other kind words of the samesort. It was Lady Hainault (the long Burton girl, as Madam Adelaidecalled her) come home from her last party; and in such kind keeping Ithink we may leave little Mary for the present.