Volume Ii Part 6 (1/2)
”I do not despise you, Marmaduke,” Mr. Gerard had replied, in his kind grave voice.
”Ah, sir, I know what you would say,” returned the young man with vehemence; ”you pity me, and pity and contempt are twin-sisters.
Besides, I am a Heath; you do not wish that blood of yours should mix with that of an evil and accursed race; and, moreover--though that, with a man like you, has, I know, but little weight--I may live and die a pauper.”
”My dear Marmaduke,” Mr. Gerard had answered, ”I cannot conceal from you that there are grave objections to your marriage with my daughter, and more especially at present. We need not revert to the last matter you have spoken of, for wealth is not what I should seek for in my son-in-law; even if it were, your alliance would reasonably promise it, and might be sought by many on that account. As for your being a Heath, that you cannot help; and, with respect to 'blood,' there is more rubbish spoken upon that subject by otherwise sensible folk than upon all others put together. Bad example and evil training are sufficient to account for the bad courses of any family without impeaching their circulating fluids. If your uncle had not happened to be likewise your guardian, in you, my dear young friend, I frankly tell you, I should see no fault, or rather no misfortune; but, since he has unhappily had the opportunity of weakening and intimidating----”
”Sir, sir, pray spare me,” broke in Marmaduke, pa.s.sionately; ”are you going to say that I am a coward?”
”Heaven forbid, my boy,” replied Mr. Gerard, earnestly; ”you are as brave as I am, I do not doubt. If I thought you to be what you suggest, I would not parley with you about my darling daughter for one moment. I would say 'No' at once. My Lucy wooed by a poltroon!--no, that is not possible. I do not say 'No' to _you_, Marmaduke.”
”Oh, thank you, thank you, sir,” exclaimed the young man, with emotion; then added solemnly, ”and I thank G.o.d.”
”What I do say, however,” returned Mr. Gerard, ”is 'Wait.' While your uncle lives, I cannot, under existing circ.u.mstances, permit you to be my Lucy's husband. At present, you are only boy and girl, and can well afford to be patient.”
”And when we do marry,” returned Marmaduke, gratefully, ”you shall not lose your daughter, sir, but rather gain a son. My home, if I ever have one, shall be yours also. Pray, believe me when I say that you are my second father, for you have given me a new life.”
It really seemed so to him who looked at the sparkling eyes and heightened colour of the speaker, and listened to his tones, so rich with hope and love.
”There is certainly no one so civil as a would-be son-in-law,” replied Mr. Gerard, good-naturedly. ”I wonder that old gentlemen in my position ever permit them to marry at all.”
And thus it had been settled--as I saw that it had been--only a very little while before our arrival in Harley Street.
”And what brings you good people up to town?” asked Mr. Gerard gaily, ”without sending a line in advance, which, even in mercy to the housekeeper, you would surely have done, had not the business been urgent? As to your travelling with four horses,” added our host slily, ”I know so well the pride and ostentation of the clergy that I am not the least astonished at your doing _that_, Mr. Rector.”
”Truly, sir, now that I find all safe and well,” replied my tutor, ”I begin to think we might have travelled in a less magnificent way; but the fact is, that I felt foolishly apprehensive and curious to tell you our tidings. Sir Ma.s.singberd Heath has been Lost since Thursday fortnight, November sixteenth.”
”Lost!” exclaimed Mr. Gerard, in amazement.
”Lost!” echoed Lucy, compa.s.sionately.
”Lost!” murmured Marmaduke, turning deadly pale. ”That is terrible, indeed.”
”Yes, poor wretched man,” said Lucy, quickly; ”terrible to think that some judgment may have overtaken him in the midst of his wickedness--unrepentant, revengeful, cruel.”
”That is truly what should move us most, Miss Gerard,” observed my tutor; ”it is but too probable that he has been suddenly cut off, and that by violence.” Then he narrated all that had happened at Fairburn since the night of Sir Ma.s.singberd's disappearance, uninterrupted save once, when Mr. Gerard left the room for a few minutes, and returned with another bottle of ”the particular,” which, it seemed, he would not even suffer the butler to handle. Marmaduke sat silent and awe-struck, drinking in every word, and now and then, when a sort of shudder pa.s.sed over him, I saw a little hand creep forth and slide into his, when he would smile faintly, but not take his eyes off Mr. Long--no, not even to reply to hers.
”I think,” added my tutor, when the narrative was quite concluded, ”that under these circ.u.mstances I was justified in coming up to town, Mr.
Gerard, since it is just possible that Sir Ma.s.singberd may, may----”
”That he may not be dead,” interrupted our host, gravely; ”there is, of course, that chance, and we must set to work at once to settle the question.”
There was a violent ringing at the front-door bell. Mr. Long started up with a ”What's that?” Marmaduke's very lips grew white, and trembled.
For my part, I confess I congratulated myself that I was on that side of the table which was furthest from any person who might enter the room.
Lucy alone maintained a calm demeanour, and looked towards her father confidently.
”That is Mr. Clint, I have no doubt,” observed Mr. Gerard, quietly. ”I sent word to him an hour ago to come directly, and, if possible, to bring Townshend with him. Whether Sir Ma.s.singberd be alive or not, we shall soon discover, for the great Bow Street runner will be certain to find either his body or his bones.”
CHAPTER X.