Part 23 (1/2)
Mrs Rashleigh placed herself opposite to us, with Captain Walton; she was fanning herself, and was evidently much excited and agitated. I felt she was my evil genius for the night at least.
There was a fiendish light in her eye, but Clarence either did not or _would_ not observe it, and he was in such spirits, that their influence for a time was irresistible.
We were laughing merrily together as Mrs Rashleigh sailed past us in the quadrille.
”Have you heard the news?” said she, addressing Clarence--she seldom deigned to recognise me except by an insolent bow.
”News?--no.” And the young aide-de-camp led me back to my place.
”There's a man-of-war just coming in,” said he; ”she has been making signals to the station on the hills; what news can she bring?”
The sun had long set, and the man-of-war dropped her anchor in silence; it was soon whispered that she had brought news from the south-eastern coast; and besides this, some excitement prevailed in consequence of her having had a desperate affray with pirates off the coast of Madagascar, and she had been looked for with much anxiety and interest, rumours of the action having reached us some days before?
There was silence. It was so profound, that we could distinguish the plash of the oars. The flag-lieutenant descended the gangway to meet the commander of the sloop, and attending him to the deck, presented him to Admiral D. After the usual compliments had pa.s.sed, Captain Leslie requested to be introduced at once to the Governor, for whom he had brought important despatches.
Mrs Rashleigh came up at once to Clarence Fairfax; but looking at _me_, observed abruptly, ”We must bid adieu to b.a.l.l.s and fetes immediately.
The Governor and his suite will have to start for the frontier without delay. You will be charmed, I am sure, to take the field again, Major Fairfax,”--here she addressed herself to him;--”for you must be tired of lounging at pianos and superintending embroidery. Don't faint, Miss Daveney; you are as white as death, I vow. He will come back again; aides-de-camp never get shot, especially in Kafirland.”
It is a fearful thing for a young heart to feel the germ of dislike springing in its depths; and, alas! I began to hate this woman.
Clarence looked round for some one to whose care he could commit me. ”I must go,” he said, ”to my uncle at once.” I instinctively moved away with him. We left Mrs Rashleigh standing alone. Every one was crowding towards the p.o.o.p to hear the news. Lady Amabel had fainted.
The next few hours are vaguely sketched upon the tablets of my mind--day was dawning, as we descended the carpeted steps of the gangway to depart for the sh.o.r.e. I tottered into the barge, Clarence Fairfax supported me in his arms, and Lady Amabel was reclining on a seat, with Sir Adrian attempting to comfort her. Mrs Rashleigh was waiting for the Admiral's cutter to convey her to land. I could not reconcile her levity with the idea of her regard for Clarence. She was on the last step of the gangway, and leaning down, she looked under the canopy of the barge: ”Pray, tell Lady Amabel,” said she to me, with a mocking smile, ”that she must not alarm herself; it will be quite a question of _words_ on the frontier, and we shall soon return. I have made up my mind to accompany Mr Rashleigh, who goes with the Governor. We shall have a charming party; good night.”
Clarence muttered something between his teeth. I laid my head on his shoulder, and sobbed bitterly. I forgot Lady Amabel and Sir Adrian; indeed they were intent on their own regrets and responsibilities.
Clarence pressed me to his heart, and parting the curls from my brow, kissed me for the first and last time.
Oh! that stir in the household in the early morning the dread preparation for war--weapons lying on the gilded tables; holsters flung across the banisters; servants hurrying hither and thither with saddlery and accoutrements; the impatient chargers pawing in the stable-yard, as if they steady ”snuffed the battle afar off;” orderlies das.h.i.+ng to the open doorways on foaming horses; and impatient voices issuing commands to the startled underlings!
I rose early and went below; my heart sickened at these evidences of immediate departure. I returned to my sleeping apartment. It loosed into the beautiful view of the approach to the house from my dressing-room. I could hear the clatter of horses' feet in the stables, and grooms and soldiers laughing, enjoying the prospect of the journey, and perhaps war. It was early day. How lovely is nature at her _reveille_ in this soft climate! She was waking in the garden to the matin songs of birds; she was lifting her veil on the mountain-top, and unfurling her crimson banner in the sky to herald the coming of the sun.
But with me all was gloom. That Clarence Fairfax loved me, in his impetuous way, I _believed_,--alas! I did not know; but the future was a dark abyss. He was going--going into danger. All the horrible histories I had been told of death at savage hands rose before me. The hour or two pa.s.sed in sleep during the night had been haunted with b.l.o.o.d.y spectres. I saw that brow stained with gore, those eyes which had beamed on me with merry light closed for ever. Gracious heaven! I had dreamt of torture, agony, and shame, with my beloved Clarence in the foreground of the picture.
Up and down, up and down those two rooms I paced, s.h.i.+vering on that sunny morning with dread, dismay, and doubt. Tears came--they poured in torrents over my face. I caught sight of it in the large mirror--it was pitiable to behold. I wept the more at the sight of my miserable and altered countenance. How sad is self-pity! It is so long since I have recalled these wretched moments of existence, that I can dwell upon them now more as a vividly-remembered dream than as actual facts. I give you, dear friend, more details than you may like to have, but I think you have a right to watch the phases through which my mind pa.s.sed under the influence of that absorbing earthly pa.s.sion.
Yes, it was a mere earthly pa.s.sion; but many wiser than I have been bewildered and enchained by exceeding beauty, a dazzling smile, a winning manner, a perfect form, and a reputation distinguished among men for gallant and generous actions--generous, you know, in the worldly acceptation of the term.
Besides, while with me, Clarence was wholly mine; if I might judge by manner, hanging over my embroidery frame while Lady Amabel was writing; or--
Ah! I have said enough of this. He was to leave me now. Would he die?
Would he return? or, if he did, would he return true to me, and _tell me that he_ loved me?
You see, under all this strong current of love for him, there were doubts. I hardly recognised them; but they existed nevertheless. I had heard him laugh at ”love-stricken damsels,” left by men who had been publicly engaged to them. I recollected his boasting, of giving advice to a young officer, who had gone ”a great deal too far,” to get sick leave, and sail for England by the first s.h.i.+p. The young man did not take this advice; he stayed, married, and Clarence called him ”a fool.”--Yes, these doubts rose to the surface of my mind, and then--
I heard his voice in the front of the house. I lifted the blind of the dressing-room window, and saw him: he looked hara.s.sed, he had been up all night. He was on horseback, and fully accoutred. Oh! was he departing? I dropped the blind; next I heard the rattle of spurs and sword; he had dismounted.
I wiped the tears from my eyes, and ran down to the garden by a back staircase. Clarence had some deer there in a little paddock. I walked mechanically along a grape-walk to the inclosure: the pretty things knew me, for I visited them every day; they put their faces through the railings, and licked my hands. Nelly--he had named one after me-- trotted up and down impatiently; she was watching for her master. I suppose he thought that I should be with his favourites; for, ere long, he came through the grape-walk. I hastened to meet him--for agitation and distress overcame my reserve--and we walked up and down the arcade together.
He entreated me not to forget him, said he should be wretched till he returned, and a hundred tender things besides; but I could see that the change from garrison life to active service was exciting to him: he had no idea of temporising with savages, he said; he hoped Sir Adrian would settle the question by ”speaking to the Kafirs,” as they said themselves, ”with guns.” Oh! it would only be a month's affair. They were to ride five hundred miles a week till they reached the seat of war; and then, he added, with a gay air, ”think how much faster we shall ride back.”