Part 44 (1/2)
”De Vayne!” they both exclaim in surprise.
”Yes, Julian!” he answered cheerily; ”I only returned from Florence two days ago, heard of your marriage from the Ildown people, and determined to come with my mother a self-invited guest.”
”Don't fear for my feelings,” he continued, turning to Kennedy.
”Nothing is so useless or dangerous as to nurse a hopeless love, like the flame burning in the hearts of the banqueters, at the feast of Eblis. No, Kennedy, I love Violet, but only as a sister now, and you must not be afraid if I claim one kiss after the marriage from the bride. You shall have the same privilege some day soon.”
”Your coming is the completion of my happiness,” said Kennedy, cordially shaking his hand. ”I will run and tell Violet at once, lest she should be alarmed by seeing you.”
”Yes, and to show her why we may continue to have communion as friends, tell her that there is a gentle Florentine girl, with dark eyes, and dark hair, and a sweet voice, who, as my mother will bear witness, has promised in a year's time to leave her Casa d'oro for Other Hall,” he said smiling.
They took him down to see the others, who rejoiced to see him nearly as much as they did, and the time sped on for the wedding to be performed.
The carriages had already started to convey the bridegrooms and their friends to church, when another carriage drove rapidly along the street, carrying another most unexpected guest.
It had been arranged that Cyril and Frank should come down to Orton on the morning of the ceremony, as there was a difficulty in finding room for them. It was very late, and they were beginning to be afraid that the boys had missed a train, and would not arrive till after the ceremony, when they made their triumphant entry into Orton in a carriage by the side of--Lady Vinsear!
Only imagine! Being left almost alone at Ildown while the others had gone to Orton to make arrangements for the marriage, Cyril had audaciously proposed to his brother that, as it was through them that Lady Vinsear's wrath had been kindled against Julian, they should go over and see whether the old lady would admit them into her presence or in any way suffer herself to be pacified. The proposal was quite a sudden one, and the thought had only come into Cyril's head because he had nothing else to do. But he had no sooner thought of it than he determined to carry it out. He felt certain that Lady Vinsear could not be so totally unlike his late father as to have become wholly ill-natured and implacable, and he was sure that no harm could result from his visit even if no good were done.
So the boys drove over in a pony-chaise to Lonstead Abbey, and knocking at the door, asked if Lady Vinsear was at home.
”Yes,” said the old servant, opening his eyes in astonishment at the apparition of the two boys, whom he had only seen as children four years before.
”Then, ask if she will see Mr Cyril and Master Frank Home. Stop, though; is Miss Sp.r.o.ng at home?”
”Oh, no, Master Cyril; bless you, Miss Sp.r.o.ng, sir, has gone and married Farmer Jones this year gone.”
”Has she indeed? Oh, then, take my message, please, James.”
They had come at the right moment. In the large drawing-room of Lonstead Abbey, Lady Vinsear was sitting with no companion but the orphan girl of a villager, to whom she gave a home, and who was amusing herself with a picture-book on a low stool by the fire; for though it was summer, the fire was lighted to give cheerfulness to the room. When Miss Sp.r.o.ng married a neighbouring farmer, Lady Vinsear had given her a handsome dowry, and refused ever to see her again, being in fact heartily tired of her malice and sycophancy, and above all, resenting the new breach which she had caused between herself and her brother's family. Ever since her quarrel with Julian, Lady Vinsear had bitterly regretted the violence which had cut off from her that natural affection to which she had looked as the stay of her declining years. She had grown sadder as she grew older, and the loneliness of her life weighed heavily on her heart, yet in her obstinate pride she made an unutterable resolve never to take the initiative in restoring Julian to her favour.
And as she sat there by the fire, longing in her secret soul for the society and love of some young hearts of her own kith and kin, she glanced away from the uninteresting little girl whom she had taken as a protegee to the likeness of Julian's bright and thoughtful boyish features, (which still, in spite of Miss Sp.r.o.ng, had retained a place over the mantel-piece), and remembered the foolish little incident which had led to her rejection of him as her heir. The tears started to her eyes as she thought of it, and wished with all her heart that the two gay and merry boys whose frolic had caused the _fracas_ were with her once more. How much she should now enjoy the pleasant sound of their young voices, and how gladly she would join in their unrestrained and innocent laughter.
So when the bewildered James asked in his never-varying voice, ”whether Master Cyril and Frank Home might see her,” Lady Vinsear fancied that she was seeing in a dream the fulfilment of her unexpressed wishes, and rubbed her eyes to see if she could really be wide awake.
”What's all this, James?--are you James, or am I in a dream?”
”James, your ladys.h.i.+p.”
”And do you really mean to tell me that my nephews are outside?”
”Yes, please your ladys.h.i.+p.”
”Well, then, don't keep them there a minute longer, James. Run along, Annie,” she said to the little girl, ”it is time for you to be in bed.”
Annie had hardly retired, when--a little shyly--the boys entered, uncertain of their reception. But Lady Vinsear started from her seat, and embraced them with the utmost affection.
”My dear Cyril,” she said, kissing him again; ”how tall and handsome you have grown; and Frankie, too, you are the image of Julian when he was your age.”