Volume II Part 18 (1/2)
”A very elegant girl, Lady Mabel,” he said; ”and remarkably clever. I never talked to a young woman, or an old one either, who knew so much about Ireland. She's engaged to that gawky cousin, isn't she?”
Vixen shot an indignant look at him, and pouted her rosy underlip.
”You mean young Vawdrey. Yes; it is quite an old engagement. They were affianced to each other in their cradles, I believe,” answered Captain Winstanley.
”Just what I should have imagined,” said Lord Mallow.
”Why?”
”Because they seem to care so little for each other now.”
”Oh but, dear Lord Mallow, remember Lady Mabel Ashbourne is too well-bred to go about the world advertising her affection for her future husband,” remonstrated Mrs. Winstanley. ”I'm sure, if you had seen us before our marriage, you would never have guessed from our manner to each other that Conrad and I were engaged. You would not have a lady behave like a housemaid with her 'young man.' I believe in that cla.s.s of life they always sit with their arms round each other's waists at evening parties.”
”I would have a lady show that she has a heart, and is not ashamed to acknowledge its master,” said Lord Mallow, with his eyes on Vixen, who sat stolidly silent, pale with anger. ”However, we will put down Lady Mabel's seeming coldness to good-breeding. But as to Mr. Vawdrey, all I can say about him is, that he may be in love with his cousin's estate, but he is certainly not in love with his cousin.”
This was more than Vixen could brook.
”Mr. Vawdrey is a gentleman, with a fine estate of his own!” she cried.
”How dare you impute such meanness to him?”
”It may be mean, but it is the commonest thing in life.”
”Yes, among adventurers who have no other road to fortune than by marrying for money; but do you suppose it can matter to Roderick whether he has a thousand acres less or more, or two houses instead of one? He is going to marry Lady Mabel because it was the dearest wish of his mother's heart, and because she is perfect, and proper, and accomplished, and wonderfully clever--you said as much yourself--and exactly the kind of wife that a young man would be proud of. There are reasons enough, I should hope,” concluded Vixen indignantly.
She had spoken breathlessly, in gasps of a few words at a time, and her eyes flashed their angriest light upon the astounded Irishman.
”Not half a reason if he does not love her,” he answered boldly. ”But I believe young Englishmen of the present day marry for reason and not for love. Cupid has been cas.h.i.+ered in favour of Minerva. Foolish marriages are out of fas.h.i.+on. n.o.body ever thinks of love in a cottage.
First, there are no more cottages; and secondly, there is no more love.”
Christmas was close at hand: a trying time for Vixen, who remembered the jolly old Christmas of days gone by, when the poor from all the surrounding villages came to receive the Squire's lavish bounty, and not even the tramp or the cadger was sent empty-handed away. Under the new master all was done by line and rule. The distribution of coals and blankets took place down in Beechdale under Mr. and Mrs. Scobel's management. Vixen went about from cottage to cottage, in the wintry dusk, giving her small offerings out of her scanty allowance of pocket-money, which Captain Winstanley had put at the lowest figure he decently could.
”What can Violet want with pocket-money?” he asked, when he discussed the subject with his wife. ”Your dressmaker supplies all her gowns, and bonnets, and hats. You give her gloves--everything. n.o.body calls upon her for anything.”
”Her papa always gave her a good deal of money,” pleaded Mrs.
Winstanley. ”I think she gave it almost all away to the poor.”
”Naturally. She went about pauperising honest people because she had more money than she knew what to do with. Let her have ten pounds a quarter to buy gloves and eau-de-cologne, writing-paper, and postage-stamps, and trifles of that kind. She can't do much harm with that, and it is quite as much as you can afford, since we have both made up our minds to live within our incomes.”
Mrs. Winstanley sighed and a.s.sented, as she was wont to do. It seemed hard that there should be this need of economy, but it was in a manner Violet's fault that they were all thus restricted, since she was to take so much, and to reduce her mother almost to penury by-and-by.
”I don't know what would become of me without Conrad's care,” thought the dutiful wife.
Going among her poor this Christmas, with almost empty hands, Violet Tempest discovered what it was to be really loved. Honest eyes brightened none the less at her coming, the little children flocked as fondly to her knee. The changes at the Abbey House were very well understood. They were all put down to Captain Winstanley's account; and many a simple heart burned with indignation at the idea that the Squire's golden-haired daughter was being ”put upon.”
One bright afternoon in the Christmas holidays Vixen consented, half reluctantly, to let Lord Mallow accompany her in her visits among the familiar faces. That was a rare day for the Squire's old pensioners.
The Irishman's pockets were full of half-crowns and florins and sixpences for the rosy-faced, bare-footed, dirty, happy children.
”It puts me in mind of the old country,” he said, when he had made acquaintance with the interior of half-a-dozen cottages. ”The people seem just as kind and friendly, and improvident, and idle, and happy-go-lucky as my friends at home. That old Sa.s.senach Forester, now, that we saw sitting in the winter sun, drinking his noon-day pint, on a bench outside a rustic beer-shop, looking the very image of rustic enjoyment--what Irishman could take life more lightly or seem better pleased with himself? a freeborn child of the sun and wind, ready to earn his living anyhow, except by the work of his hands. Yes, Miss Tempest, I feel a national affinity to your children of the Forest. I wish I were Mr. Vawdrey, and bound to spend my life here.”