Part 72 (1/2)
”Said! coupled the thought of ridicule with the name of Mr. Darrell!”
”Take care, Morley,” said Mr. Vyvyan, laughing. ”Flora is positively superst.i.tious in her respect for Guy Darrell; and you cannot offend her more than by implying that he is mortal. Nay, child, it is very natural.
Quite apart from his fame, there is something in that man's familiar talk, or rather, perhaps, in the very sound of his voice, which makes most other society seem flat and insipid.
”I feel it myself. And when Flora's young admirers flutter and babble round her--just after Darrell has quitted his chair beside her--they seem very poor company. I am sure, Flora,” continued Vyvyan kindly, ”that the mere acquaintance of such a man has done you much good; and I am now in great hopes that, whenever you marry, it will be a man of sense.”
”Um!” again said the Colonel, eyeing Flora aslant, but with much attention. ”How I wish, for my friend's sake, that he was of an age which inspired Miss Vyvyan with less--veneration.”
Flora turned her back on the Colonel, looking out of the window, and her small foot beating the ground with nervous irritation.
”It was given out that Darrell intended to marry again,” said Mr.
Vyvyan. ”A man of that sort requires a very superior highly-educated woman; and if Miss Carr Vipont had been a little more of his age she would have just suited him. But I am patriot enough to hope that he will remain single, and have no wife but his country, like Mr. Pitt.” The Colonel having now satisfied his curiosity, and a.s.sured himself that Darrell was, there at least, no rejected suitor, rose and approached Flora to make peace and to take leave. As he held out his hand, he was struck with the change in a countenance usually so gay in its aspect--it spoke of more than dejection, it betrayed distress; when she took his hand, she retained it, and looked into his eyes wistfully; evidently there was something on her mind which she wished to express and did not know how. At length she said in a whisper: ”You are Mr. Darrell's most intimate friend; I have heard him say so; shall you see him soon?”
”I fear not; but why?”
”Why? you, his friend; do you not perceive that he is not happy? I, a mere stranger, saw it at the first. You should cheer and comfort him; you have that right--it is a n.o.ble privilege.”
”My dear young lady,” said the Colonel, touched, ”you have a better heart than I thought for. It is true Darrell is not a happy man; but can you give me any message that might cheer him more than an old bachelor's commonplace exhortations to take heart, forget the rains of yesterday, and hope for some gleam of sun on the morrow?”
”No,” said Flora, sadly, ”it would be a presumption indeed in me, to affect the consoler's part; but”--(her lips quivered)--”but if I may judge by his letter, I may never see him again.”
”His letter! He has written to you, then, as well as to your father?”
”Yes,” said Flora, confused and colouring, ”a few lines in answer to a silly note of mine; yes, tell him that I shall never forget his kind counsels, his delicate, indulgent construction of--of--in short, tell him my father is right, and that I shall be better and wiser all my life for the few short weeks in which I have known Guy Darrell.”
”What secrets are you two whispering there?” asked Mr. Vyvyan from his easy-chair.
”Ask her ten years hence,” said the Colonel, as he retreated to the door. ”The fairest leaves in the flower are the last that the bud will disclose.”
From Mr. Vyvyan the Colonel went to Lord -----'s. His lords.h.i.+p had also heard from Darrell that morning; Darrell declined the invitation to ----Hall; business at Fawley. Lady Adela had borne the disappointment with her wonted serenity of temper, and had gone out shopping. Darrell had certainly not offered his hand in that quarter; had he done so--whether refused or accepted--all persons yet left in London would have heard the news. Thence the Colonel repaired to Carr Vipont's. Lady Selina was at home and exceedingly cross. Carr had been astonished by a letter from Mr. Darrell, dated Fawley--left town for the season without even calling to take leave--a most eccentric man. She feared his head was a little touched--that he knew it, but did not like to own it--perhaps the doctors had told him he must keep quiet, and not excite himself with politics. ”I had thought,” said Lady Selina, ”that he might have felt a growing attachment for Honoria; and considering the disparity of years, and that Honoria certainly might marry any one, he was too proud to incur the risk of refusal. But I will tell you in confidence, as a relation and dear friend, that Honoria has a very superior mind, and might have overlooked the mere age: congenial tastes--you understand. But on thinking it all over, I begin to doubt whether that be the true reason for his running away in this wild sort of manner. My maid tells me that his house-steward called to say that the establishment was to be broken up. That looks as if he had resigned London for good; just, too, when, Carr says, the CRISIS, so long put off, is sure to burst on us. I'm quite sick of clever men--one never knows how to trust them; if they are not dishonest they are eccentric! I have just been telling Honoria that clever men are, after all, the most tiresome husbands. Well, what makes you so silent? What do you say? Why don't you speak?”
”I am slowly recovering from my shock,” said the Colonel. ”So Darrell s.h.i.+rks the CRISIS, and has not even hinted a preference for Honoria, the very girl in all London that would have made him a safe, rational companion. I told him so, and he never denied it. But it is a comfort to think he is no loss. Old monster!”
”Nay,” said Lady Selina, mollified by so much sympathy, ”I don't say he is no loss. Honestly speaking--between ourselves--I think he is a very great loss. An alliance between him and Honoria would have united all the Vipont influence. Lord Montfort has the greatest confidence in Darrell; and if this CRISIS comes, it is absolutely necessary for the Vipont interest that it should find somebody who can speak. Really, my dear Colonel Morley, you, who have such an influence over this very odd man, should exert it now. One must not be over-nice in times of CRISIS; the country is at stake, Cousin Alban.”
”I will do my best,” said the Colonel; ”I am quite aware that an alliance which would secure Darrell's talents to the House of Vipont, and the House of Vipont to Darrell's talents, would--but 'tis no use talking, we must not sacrifice Honoria even on the altar of her country's interest!”
”Sacrifice! Nonsense! The man is not young certainly, but then what a grand creature, and so clever.”
”Clever--yes! But that was your very objection to him five minutes ago.”
”I forgot the CRISIS.--One don't want clever men every day, but there are days when one does want them!”
”I envy you that aphorism. But from what you now imply, I fear that Honoria may have allowed her thoughts to settle upon what may never take place; and if so, she may fret.”
”Fret! a daughter of mine fret!--and of all my daughters, Honoria! A girl of the best-disciplined mind! Fret! what a word!--vulgar!”
COLONEL MORLEY.--”So it is; I blush for it; but let us understand each other. If Darrell proposed for Honoria, you think, ambition apart, she would esteem him sufficiently for a decided preference.”