Part 21 (1/2)
”They may see others whom they would love more. Early marriages and long engagements are both bad. Tell them from me that it is better for them to be free a while longer, till they know themselves and the world better. I would rather Felix and Hilda never married. When I see Phebe so free from all the gnawing cares and anxieties of this life, and so joyous in her freedom, I wish to heaven I could have had a single life like hers.”
”Why! Felicita!” he exclaimed; ”this is morbid. You have never forgiven G.o.d for taking away your husband. You have been keeping a grudge against Him all these years of your widowhood.”
”No, no!” she interrupted; ”it is not that. They married me too soon, my uncle and Mr. Sefton. I never loved Roland as I ought. Oh! if I had loved him, how different my life would have been, and his!”
Her voice faltered and broke into deep sobs, which cut off all further speech. For a few minutes Canon Pascal endeavored to reason with her and comfort her, but in vain. At length he quietly went away and sent Phebe to her. There could be no more discussion of the subject for the present.
CHAPTER IV.
TAKING ORDERS.
The darkness that had dwelt so long in the heart of Felicita began now to cast its gloom over the whole household. A sharp attack of illness, which followed immediately upon her great and inexplicable agitation, caused great consternation to her friends, and above all to Felix. The eminent physician who was called in said her brain had been over-worked, and she must be kept absolutely free of all worry and anxiety. How easily is this direction given, and how difficult, how impossible, in many cases, is it to follow! That any soul, except that of a child, can be freed from all anxiety, is possible only to the soul that knows and trusts G.o.d.
All further mention of his love for Alice was out of the question now for Felix. Bitter as silence was, it was imperative; for while his mother's objections and prejudices were not overcome, Canon Pascal would not hear of any closer tie than that which already existed being formed between the young people. He had, however, the comfort of believing that Alice had heard so much of what had pa.s.sed from her mother, as that she knew he loved her, and had owned his love to her father. There was a subtle change in her manner toward him; she was more silent in his presence, and there was a tremulous tone in her voice at times when she spoke to him, yet she lingered beside him, and listened more closely to all he had to say; and when they left Westminster to return to their country rectory the tears glistened in her eyes as they had never done before when he bade her good-by.
”Come and see us as soon as it will not vex your mother, my boy,” said Canon Pascal; ”you may always think of our home as your own.”
The only person who was not perplexed by Felicita's inexplicable conduct and her illness, was Phebe Marlowe, who believed that she knew the cause, and was drawn closer to her in the deepest sympathy and pity. It seemed to Phebe that Felicita was creating the obstacle, which existed chiefly in her fancy; and with her usual frankness and directness she went to Canon Pascal's abode in the Cloisters at Westminster, to tell him simply what she thought.
”I want to ask you,” she said, with her clear, honest gaze fastened on his face, ”if you know why Mrs. Sefton left Riversborough thirteen years ago?”
”Partly,” he answered; ”my wife is a Riversdale, you know, Felicita's second or third cousin. There was some painful suspicion attaching to Roland Sefton.”
”Yes,” answered Phebe sadly.
”Was it not quite cleared up?” asked Canon Pascal.
Phebe shook her head.
”We heard,” he went on, ”that it was believed Roland Sefton's confidential clerk was the actual culprit; and Sefton himself was only guilty of negligence. Mr. Clifford himself told Lord Riversdale that Sefton was gone away on a long holiday, and might not be back for months; and something of the same kind was put forth in a circular issued from the Old Bank. I had one sent to me; for some little business of my wife's was in the hands of the firm. I recollect thinking it was an odd affair, but it pa.s.sed out of my mind; and the poor fellow's death quite obliterated all accusing thoughts against him.”
”That is the scruple in Felicita's mind,” said Phebe in a sorrowful tone; ”she feels that you ought to know everything before you consent to Alice marrying Felix, and she cannot bring herself to speak of it.”
”But how morbid that is!” he answered; ”as if I did not know Felix, every thought of him, and every motion of his soul! His father was a careless, negligent man. He was nothing worse, was he, Phebe?”
”He was the best friend I ever had,” she answered earnestly, though her face grew pale, and her eyelids drooped, ”I owe all I am to him. But it was not Acton who was guilty. It was Felix and Hilda's father.”
”And Felicita knew it?” he exclaimed.
”She knew nothing about it until I told her,” answered Phebe. ”Roland Sefton came to me when he was trying to escape out of the country, and my father and I helped him to get away. He told me all; and oh! he was not so much to blame as you might think. But he was guilty of the crime; and if he had been taken he would have been sent to jail. I would have died then sooner than let him be taken to jail.”
”If I had only known this from the beginning!” said Canon Pascal.
”What would you have done?” asked Phebe eagerly. ”Would you have refused to take Felix into your home? He has done no wrong. Hilda has done no wrong. There would have been disgrace and shame for them if their father had been sent to jail; but his death saved them from all danger of that.
n.o.body would ever speak a word against Roland Sefton now. Yet this is what is preying on Felicita's mind. If she was sure you knew all, and still consented to Felix marrying Alice, she would be at peace again.
And I too think you ought to know all. But you-will not visit the sins of the father upon the son----”