faith,Milly,' said Mr. Darrell. 'Whether your fortune is or is not aparamount consideration with him can make no possible difference in mydecision. Nothing will ever induce me to consent to your marrying him.Of course, if you choose to defy me, you are of age and your ownmistress; but on the day that makes you Angus Egerton's wife you willcease to be my daughter.'
'Papa,' cried Milly, 'you will break my heart.'
'Nonsense, child; hearts are not easily broken. Let me hear no more ofthis unfortunate business. I have spoken to you very plainly, in orderthat there might be no chance of misunderstanding between us; and Irely upon your honour that there shall be no clandestine meetingbetween you and Angus Egerton in the future. I look to you, MissCrofton, also, and shall hold you answerable for any accidentalencounters out walking.'
'You need not be afraid, papa,' Milly answered disconsolately. 'Idaresay Mr. Egerton will leave Yorkshire, as he spoke of doingyesterday.'
'I hope he may,' said Mr. Darrell.
Milly rose to leave the room. Half-way towards the door she stopped,and turned her white despairing face towards her father with a hopelesslook.
'I shall obey you, papa,' she said. 'I could not bear to forfeit yourlove, even for his sake. But I think you will break my heart.'
Mr. Darrell went over to her and kissed her.
'I am acting best for your ultimate happiness, Milly, be sure of that,'he said in a kinder tone than he had used before. 'There, my love, goand be happy with Miss Crofton, and let us all agree to forget thisbusiness as quickly as possible.'
This was our dismissal. We went back to Milly's pretty sitting-room,where the sun was shining and the warm summer air blowing on birds andflowers, and books and drawing materials, and all the airy trifles thathad made our lives pleasant to us until that hour. Milly sat on a lowstool at my feet, and buried her face in my lap, refusing all comfort.She sat like this for about an hour, weeping silently, and then rosesuddenly and wiped the tears from her pale face.
'I am not going to lead you a miserable life about this, Mary,' shesaid. 'We will never speak of it after to-day. And I will try to do myduty to papa, and bear my life without that new happiness, which madeit seem so bright. Do you think Mr. Egerton will feel thedisappointment very much, Mary?'
'He cannot help feeling it, dear, if he loves you--as I believe hedoes.'
'And we might have been so happy together! I was dreaming of CumberPriory all last night. I thought it had been restored with some of mymoney, and that the old house was full of life and brightness. Will hego away, do you think, Mary?'
'I should think it very likely.'
'And I shall never see him any more. I could not forfeit papa's love,Mary.'
'It would be a hard thing if you were to do that for the sake of astranger, dear.'
'No, no, Mary; he is not a stranger to me; Angus Egerton is not astranger. I know that he is noble and good. But my father was all theworld to me a year ago. I could not do without his love. I must obeyhim.'
'Believe me, dear, it will be wisest and best to do so. You cannot tellwhat changes may come to pass in the future. Obedience will make youvery dear to your father; and the time may come in which he will thinkbetter of Mr. Egerton.'
'O Mary, if I could hope that!'
'Hope for everything, dear, if you do your duty.'
She grew a little more cheerful after this, and met her father atdinner with quite a placid face, though it was still very pale. Mrs.Darrell looked at her wonderingly, and with a half-contemptuousexpression, I thought, as if this passion of her step-daughter's seemedto her a very poor thing, after all.
Before the week was out, we heard that Mr. Egerton had left Yorkshire.We did not go to the Pensildon fete. Milly had a cold and kept herroom, much to the regret of the Miss Collingwoods, who called every dayto inquire about her. She made this cold--which was really a veryslight affair--an excuse for a week's solitude, and at the end of thattime reappeared among us with no trace of her secret sorrow. It wasonly I, who was always with her, and knew her to the core of her heart,who could have told how hard a blow that disappointment had been, andhow much it cost her to bear it so quietly.
CHAPTER X.
CHANGES AT THORNLEIGH.
The autumn and the early winter passed monotonously enough. There was agood deal of company at Thornleigh Manor at first, for Mrs. Darrellhated solitude; but after a little time she grew tired of the peopleher husband knew, and the dinners and garden parties became lessfrequent. I had found out, very soon after her return, that she was nothappy--that this easy prosperous life was in some manner a burden toher. It was only in her husband's presence that she made any pretenceof being pleased or interested in things. With him she was always thesame--always deferential, affectionate, and attentive; while he, on hisside, was the devoted slave of her every whim and wish.
She was not unkind to Milly, but those two seemed instinctively toavoid each other.
The winter brought trouble to Thornleigh Manor. It was well for Millythat she had tried to do her duty to her father, and had submittedherself patiently to his will. About a fortnight before Christmas Mr.Darrell went to North Shields to make his annual investigation of thewharves and warehouses, and to take a kind of review of the year'sbusiness. He never returned alive. He was seized with an apoplectic fitin the office, and carried to his hotel speechless. His wife and Millywere summoned by a telegraphic message, and started for Shields by thefirst train that could convey them there; but they were too late. Heexpired an hour before their arrival.
I need not dwell upon the details of that sad time. Milly felt the blowseverely; and it was long before I saw her smile, after that darkDecember day on which the fatal summons came. She had lost much of herjoyousness and brightness after the disappointment about Angus Egerton,and this new sorrow quite crushed her.
They brought Mr. Darrell's remains to Thornleigh, and he was buried inthe family vault under the noble old church, where his father andmother, his first wife, and a son who died in infancy had been buriedbefore him. He had been very popular in the neighbourhood, and wassincerely regretted by all who had known him.
Julian Stormont was chief-mourner at the unpretentious funeral. Heseemed much affected by his uncle's death; and his manner towards hiscousin had an unusual gentleness.
I was present at the reading of the will, which took place in thedining-room immediately after the funeral. Mrs. Darrell, Milly, Mr.Stormont, myself, and the family lawyer were the only persons assembledin the spacious room, which had a dreary look without the chief of thehousehold.
The will had been made a few months after Mr. Darrell's secondmarriage. It was very simple in its wording. To Julian Stormont he lefta sum of five thousand pounds, to be paid out his funded property; allthe rest of this property, with the sum to be realised by the sale ofthe business at North Shields and its belongings--an amount likely tobe very large--was to be divided equally between Mrs. Darrell and herstepdaughter. Thornleigh Manor was left to Mrs. Darrell for her life,but was to revert to Milly, or Milly's heirs, at her death; and Millywas to be entitled to occupy her old home until her marriage.
In the event of Milly's dying unmarried, her share of the fundedproperty was to be divided equally between Mrs. Darrell and JulianStormont, and in this case the Thornleigh estate was to revert toJulian Stormont after the death of Mrs. Darrell. The executors to thewill were Mr. Foreman the lawyer and Mrs. Darrell.
Milly's position was now one of complete independence. Mr. Foreman toldher that after the sale of the iron-works she would have an income ofsomething like four thousand a year. She had been of age for more thansix months, and there was no one to come between her and perfectindependence.
Knowing this, I felt that it was more than probable Mr. Egerton wouldspeedily return to renew his suit; and I had little doubt that it wouldbe successful. I knew how well Milly loved him; and now that her fatherwas gone she could have no motive for refusing him.
'You will stay with me, won't you, Mary?' she said to me as we sat by
the fire in mournful silence that afternoon. 'You are my only comfortnow, dear. I suppose I shall remain here--for some time, at any rate.Augusta spoke to me very graciously, and begged that I would make thismy home, according to my father's wish. We should not interfere witheach other in any way, she said, and it was indeed more than probableshe would go on the Continent with her maid early in the spring, andleave me sole mistress of Thornleigh. She doubted if she could everendure the place now, she said. She is not like me, Mary. I shallalways have a melancholy love for the house in which I have lived sohappily with my father.'
So I remained with my dear girl, and life at Thornleigh Manor glided byin a quiet melancholy fashion. If Mrs. Darrell grieved for her deadhusband, her sorrow was of a cold tearless kind; but she kept her ownrooms a good deal, and we did