Part 28 (2/2)
With my money in his hand, he hated me. He would toss his hat to the stars if he heard how far I have been over-reached. Next to Charlotte Sandal, I hate Harry Sandal; and I am going to send him a road that he is not likely to return. I don't intend Stephen and Harry to sit together, and chuckle over me. Besides, your mother and Charlotte are surely calculating upon having 'dear Harry' and 'poor Harry' at home again very soon. I have no doubt Charlotte is planning about that Emily Beverley already. For Harry is to have Latrigg Hall when it is finished, I hear.”
”Really? Is that so? Are you sure?”
”Harry is to have the new hall, and all of old Latrigg's gold and property.”
”Julius, would it not be better to try and get around Harry? We could stay with him. I cannot endure Calcutta, and I always did like Harry.”
”And I always detested him. And he always detested me. No, my sweet Sophia, there is really nothing for us but a decent lodging-house on the shady side of the Chowringhee Road. My father can give me a post in 'The Company,' and I must get as many of its rupees as I can manage. Go through the old rooms, and bid them farewell, my soul. We shall not come back to Seat-Sandal again in this chapter of our eternity.” And with a mocking laugh he turned away to make his own preparations.
”But why go in the night, Julius? You said to-night at eleven o'clock.
Why not wait until morning?”
”Because, beloved, I owe a great deal of money in the neighborhood.
Stephen can pay it for me. I have sent him word to do so. Why should we waste our money? We have done with these boors. What they think of us, what they say of us, shall we mind it, my soul, when we drive under the peopuls and tamarinds at Barrackpore, or jostle the crowds upon the Moydana, or sit under the great stars and listen to the tread of the chokedars? All fate, Sophia! All fate, soul of my soul! What is Sandal-Side? Nothing. What is Calcutta? Nothing. What is life itself, my own one? Only a little piece out of something that was before, and will be after.”
Who that has seen the c.u.mberland moors and fells in July can ever forget them?--the yellow broom and purple heather, the pink and white waxen b.a.l.l.s of the rare vacciniums, the red-leaved sundew, the asphodels, the cranberries and blueberries and bilberries, and the wonderful green mosses in all the wetter places; and, above and around all, the great mountain chains veiled in pale, ethereal atmosphere, and rising in it as airy and unsubstantial as if they could tremble in unison with every thrill of the ether above them.
It was thus they looked, and thus the fells and the moors looked, one day in July, eighteen months after the death of Squire William Sandal,--his daughter Charlotte's wedding-day. From far and near, the shepherd boys and la.s.ses were travelling down the craggy ways, making all the valleys ring to their wild and simple songs, and ever and anon the bells rung out in joyful peals; and from Up-Hill to Seat-Sandal, and around the valley to Latrigg Hall, there were happy companies telling each other, ”Oh, how beautiful was the bride with her golden hair flowing down over her dress of s.h.i.+ning white satin!” ”And how proud and handsome the bridegroom!” ”And how lovely in their autumn days the two mothers! Mistress Alice Sandal leaning so confidently upon the arm of the stately Mrs. Ducie Sandal.” ”And how glad was the good rector!”
Little work, either in field or house or fellside, was done that day; for, when all has been said about human selfishness, this truth abides,--in the main, we do rejoice with those who rejoice, and we do weep with those who weep.
The old Seat was almost gay in the suns.h.i.+ne, all its windows open for the wandering breezes, and its great hall doors set wide for the feet of the new squire and his bride. For they were too wise to begin their married life by going away from their home; they felt that it was better to come to it with the bridal benediction in their ears, and the suns.h.i.+ne of the wedding-day upon their faces.
The ceremony had been delayed some months, for Stephen had been in America seeking Harry; seeking him in the great cities and in the lonely mining-camps, but never coming upon his foot steps until they had been worn away into forgetfulness. At last the rector wrote to him, ”Return home, Stephen. We are both wrong. It is not human love, but G.o.d love, that must seek the lost ones. If you found Harry now, and brought him back, it would be too soon. When his lesson is learned, the heart of G.o.d will be touched, and he will say, 'That will do, my son. Arise, and go home.'”
And when Mrs. Sandal smiled through her tears, for the hope's sake, he took her hand, and added solemnly, ”Be confident and glad, you shall see Harry come joyfully to his own home. Oh, if you could only listen, angels still talk with men! Raphael, the affable angel, loves to bring them confidences. G.o.d also speaks to his children in dreams, and by the oracles that wait in darkness. If we know not, it is because we ask not.
But I know, and am sure, that Harry will return in joy and in peace. And if the dead look over the golden bar of heaven upon their earthly homes, Barf Latrigg, seeing the prosperity of the two houses, which stand upon his love and his self-denial, will say once more to his friend, 'William, I did well to Sandal.'”
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