Part 23 (2/2)
We met Sir Adrian in the garden; he had been looking for Clarence. The Governor was too full of public affairs and his own domestic anxiety to say much to me. A young girl of seventeen, in the full bloom of mirth and beauty, was an agreeable object to him in a ball-room, but he was wont to laugh, like Clarence, at ”sorrow-stricken damsels;” he saw I had been weeping, but could enter little into my misery; he uttered some courteous expressions of regret at leaving me to the dulness of Cape Town in the absence of officials; and with more show of feeling than I had seen him exhibit, said, ”You will take care of Lady Amabel, my dear Miss Daveney; I am consoled in these hurried moments of departure at the idea of leaving her with so sweet a companion.”
”You must make breakfast for us this morning,” added he, giving me his arm, and leading me through the verandah to the room where the repast was spread.
I sat down pa.s.sively in the chair Sir Adrian placed for me, and did the honours of the breakfast to the Governor, his staff, and two or three civil functionaries.
Mr Rashleigh was there--obsequious, prosy, and judicial: he was alike despised and disliked in private life; but he was ”Sir Adrian's right hand at Cape Town;” was _au fait_ at the working of the difficult machinery of government from one end of the colony to the other; and, as I afterwards heard, kept up a sort of civil treaty with Mrs Rashleigh, who had never loved him, but who had a thorough sense of the advantages she derived from her position as his wife, surrounded by the appliances, and, what she considered, the state of official life. She had ample evidence against him to procure a divorce if she chose it; but such a proceeding would have been the ruin of both. She had the art to conceal her most glaring errors from the world, and rumours were afloat of stormy debates between this worldly, unprincipled pair: he remonstrating on her extravagance, she defying him, by threatening him with an _esclandre_ that would have deprived him of his high appointment.
You may believe that such rumours never reached Sir Adrian and Lady Amabel. It is ”expedient” to overlook the most glaring errors of powerful and useful men. Probably, if any one had endeavoured to enlighten Sir Adrian, the latter would have deprecated the information as intrusive. No; every one believed Mr and Mrs Rashleigh to be unprincipled people; but they had a fine house, gave elegant entertainments, were on the best terms with the first authorities through every successive government, never worried others with their quarrels; on the contrary, were perfectly civil to each other in public; and, although the lady was said to be extravagant, she paid her debts.
I am telling you what, probably, you may have heard of these baneful people; for it is not very long since circ.u.mstances came to light which would never have been known had the Rashleighs continued prosperous; but the day came when the world did not care what it believed against them, and then their very errors were exaggerated--if that were possible--but I must not be uncharitable. How true that remark of Sir Thomas More--I forget the exact words--you quoted them the other day--that ”our faults we engraven on marble--our virtues traced in the dust!”
The gentlemen hurried over their breakfast, and Sir Adrian retired with Mr Rashleigh. How I longed to rise and escape through the window into the garden! but it was impracticable, and there I remained for upwards of an hour, with a heart bursting with grief, while my face was condemned to wear a calm appearance. Doubtless, ”Fairfax's flirtation with little Miss Daveney” had been talked of at many of these men's tables; but they were all too much interested in the important events pending to give a thought to the shy, melancholy little figure, sitting with her back to the light, and dispensing tea and coffee as fast as the servants could hand round the silver salvers.
Oh! weak of heart and weak of mind that I was in those days!--But am I the wiser for the past?
I trust so; I pray it may prove good for me that I have been afflicted, and that, like the land desolated apparently by the dark waters of the Nile, my soul may be purified and strengthened by the floods that have gone over my soul, and that the receding tide may leave all refreshed, hopeful, and serene.
Oh! the solitude of a great mansion which for weeks has been ringing with sounds of dancers' feet, of laughter, and of song. The large vacant rooms, the tall mirrors, reflecting in all directions one insignificant little object! I went wandering about the apartments at Government House the greater part of that morning. Lady Amabel was in bed, exhausted by a succession of fainting-fits. The sudden announcement of the evil tidings had scared her weak nerves, and Sir Adrian's speedy departure had prostrated her. They had scarcely been sundered for twenty years, save in some short brilliant campaigns in India. No one seemed to dread actual danger to the General's person in his present expedition; but I had heard something of the foe he was about to encounter, and I knew what _might_ be.
Clarence Fairfax and I parted amid a bevy of officials. We shook hands like commonplace acquaintances. The other members of the staff came rattling in through the open doors. All was hurry at the last; I ran up to my dressing-room window, and watched the a.s.semblage of people who had come to make their parting bow to the popular Governor.
Horses, men, equipages were crowded together; Sir Adrian appeared--there was a hearty shout--the grooms and orderlies brought up the chargers, they were rowing and fretting with impatience. My pretty Zara was led by a dragoon, to be ridden only occasionally. The General and staff were soon in their saddles--the crowd gave way--Sir Adrian waved his hat--the aides-de-camp bowed right and left, and the cavalcade proceeded at a rapid pace down the street. In ten minutes not a trace was left of this gallant array. The Rashleighs were to follow the Governor in the afternoon. They drove up to the door of Government House in their travelling equipage, saddle and sumpter horses following. Lady Amabel could not see them--I would not; but from my dressing-room, where I sat trying to draw, I could hear Mrs Rashleigh's imperative voice. I looked through the Venetian blinds for an instant, and turned away, sick at heart.
It was evening before Lady Amabel and I met. How vast the room looked as we two sat at dinner, with a lamp s.h.i.+ning on a table usually crowded with guests. Next day we departed for Newlands.
Sweet, gentle, kind Lady Amabel. She had, as I have told you, begun to penetrate the cause of my occasional dejection: occasional--for there were times when I had no doubt of Clarence Fairfax's attachment. But she had her misgivings about Mrs Rashleigh, whom she spoke of once or twice as a ”dangerous woman;” and this was a strong expression for Lady Amabel. She now drew from me a part of ”Love's sad history,” and expressed her regrets at Clarence's departure without opening his mind to her. In many ways she betrayed uneasiness at the idea of Mrs Rashleigh's determination to follow the authorities to the frontier.
How solitary now to me were those long, green vistas at Newlands! The fountain of Egeria had its own peculiar melancholy charm, and many early morning hours were pa.s.sed in these bowers, consecrated in memory to love and happiness.
Letters soon arrived, bringing us hopeful intelligence of peace with Kafirland; but an immense press of business was likely to detain Sir Adrian for some time. He even talked of a journey to Natal, on the northeastern coast; but, the fear of absolute and immediate danger removed, visitors poured in to offer their congratulations, for Lady Amabel had endeared herself to many.
The despatches contained a note for me. I put it aside till I could open it in solitude. It was full of kindness, and I was comparatively happy.
On the other hand, I was doomed to hear of fetes and b.a.l.l.s got up to celebrate Sir Adrian's arrival at Graham's Town, the capital of the frontier. Mrs Rashleigh was doing the honours of his house; her husband and herself were its inmates, and I could detect many a lurking smile on the lips of keen-witted, ill-natured visitors, as they listened to the relation of these ”facts and sc.r.a.ps” to Lady Amabel.
Some relations of Sir Adrian's happened at this time to take up their abode at the Cape. They called at Newlands, and introduced a young man, who had come from England with them, and who brought letters of special introduction to the Governor.
Lady Amabel was indisposed, and I received the guests; they remained to luncheon. Lady Amabel sent to request that they, with _Mr Lyle_, would remain to dinner. They could not accept the invitation, but Mr Lyle did, and was left _tete-a-tete_ with me.
Handsome, original, and clever, he certainly beguiled away those hours more agreeably than I had expected. He spent the evening with Lady Amabel and myself. She liked him; she said he was ”not _too_ clever for us,” in our unsettled, agitated state, for we were only _hoping_ for peace; and she gave him a general invitation to our country residence, to which she had also asked her relatives during their _sejour_ at the Cape. Unaccustomed to thoroughly ”private life,” Lady Amabel was happy to throw her house open again to society. We had no fetes or dinner-parties; we were not gay, but we were cheerful, for every week brought us more hopeful intelligence from the seat of war. I heard less of Mrs Rashleigh and Clarence Fairfax, and believed his excuses for short and hurried notes to me. The interchange of these notes was not quite right; but, although kind, they contained no warm expressions of regard. Lady Amabel considered them harmless, because Clarence signed himself a ”Faithful Cousin.” I suppose she had not the heart to forbid what she saw gave me so much pleasure. He was, he said, ”overwhelmed with office work.”
Mr Lyle had been sent from England to join a force quartered at Natal, but with especial credentials to the Governor, to whom he enclosed them.
He shortly received instruction to remain at Cape Town for the present, Sir Adrian antic.i.p.ating an opportunity of naming him for a staff appointment.
He visited us almost daily. Lady Amabel was charmed with his attentions. He was ever ready to bring us good news, and on the arrival of despatches would gallop out to Newlands to be the first herald of the tidings.
I have told you that the first impression he made was agreeable--but as for marriage!--
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