Part 30 (2/2)

She sprang out of the carriage in silence, and immediately ran up into her room. As for Glas...o...b..ry, he only observed it was very cold, and entered the house with Sir Ratcliffe.

'This fire is hearty,' said Glas...o...b..ry, warming himself before it: 'you have had good sport, I hope? We are not to wait dinner for Miss Grandison, Sir Ratcliffe. She will not come down this evening; she is not very well.'

'Not very well: ah! the cold, I fear. You have been imprudent in staying so late. I must run and tell Lady Armine.'

'Oblige me, I pray, by not doing so,' said Glas...o...b..ry; 'Miss Grandison most particularly requested that she should not be disturbed.'

It was with some difficulty that Glas...o...b..ry could contrive that Miss Grandison's wishes should be complied with; but at length he succeeded in getting Sir Ratcliffe to sit down to dinner, and affecting a cheerfulness which was far from his spirit, the hour of ten at length arrived, and Glas...o...b..ry, before retiring to his tower, paid his evening visit to Ferdinand.

CHAPTER XIII.

_In Which the Family Perplexities Rather Increase than Diminish_.

IF EVER there were a man who deserved a serene and happy life it was Adrian Glas...o...b..ry. He had pursued a long career without injuring or offending a human being; his character and conduct were alike spotless; he was void of guile; he had never told a falsehood, never been entangled in the slightest deceit; he was easy in his circ.u.mstances; he had no relations to prey upon his purse or his feelings; and, though alone in the world, was blessed with such a sweet and benignant temper, gifted with so many resources, and adorned with so many accomplishments, that he appeared to be always employed, amused, and contented. And yet, by a strange contrariety of events, it appeared that this excellent person was now placed in a situation which is generally the consequence of impetuous pa.s.sions not very scrupulous in obtaining their ends. That breast, which heretofore would have shrunk from being a.n.a.lysed only from the refined modesty of its nature, had now become the depository of terrible secrets: the day could scarcely pa.s.s over without finding him in a position which rendered equivocation on his part almost a necessity, while all the anxieties inseparable from pecuniary embarra.s.sments were forced upon his attention, and his feelings were racked from sympathy with individuals who were bound to him by no other tie, but to whose welfare he felt himself engaged to sacrifice all his pursuits, and devote all his time and labour. And yet he did not murmur, although he had scarcely hope to animate him. In whatever light he viewed coming events, they appeared ominous only of evil. All that he aimed at now was to soothe and support, and it was his unshaken confidence in Providence that alone forbade him to despair.

When he repaired to the Place in the morning he found everything in confusion. Miss Grandison was very unwell; and Lady Armine, frightened by the recent danger from which they had escaped, very alarmed. She could no longer conceal from Ferdinand that his Katherine was here, and perhaps Lady Armine was somewhat surprised at the calmness with which her son received the intelligence. But Miss Grandison was not only very unwell but very obstinate. She would not leave her room, but insisted that no medical advice should be called in. Lady Armine protested, supplicated, adjured; Miss Grandison appealed to Mr. Glas...o...b..ry; and Glas...o...b..ry, who was somewhat of a physician, was called in, and was obliged to a.s.sure Lady Armine that Miss Grandison was only suffering from a cold and only required repose. A warm friends.h.i.+p subsisted between Lady Armine and her niece. She had always been Katherine's favourite aunt, and during the past year there had been urgent reasons why Lady Armine should have cherished this predisposition in her favour.

Lady Armine was a fascinating person, and all her powers had been employed to obtain an influence over the heiress. They had been quite successful. Miss Grandi-son looked forward almost with as much pleasure to being Lady Armine's daughter as her son's bride. The intended mother-in-law was in turn as warmhearted as her niece was engaging; and eventually Lady Armine loved Katherine for herself alone.

In a few days, however, Miss Grandison announced that she was quite recovered, and Lady Armine again devoted her unbroken attention to her son, who was now about to rise for the first time from his bed. But although Miss Grandison was no longer an invalid, it is quite certain that if the attention of the other members of the family had not been so entirely engrossed, a very great change in her behaviour could not have escaped their notice. Her flowers and drawings seemed to have lost their relish; her gaiety to have deserted her. She pa.s.sed a great portion of the morning in her room; and although it was announced to her that Ferdinand was aware of her being an inmate of the Place, and that in a day or two they might meet, she scarcely evinced, at this prospect of resuming his society, so much gratification as might have been expected; and though she daily took care that his chamber should still be provided with flowers, it might have been remarked that the note she had been so anxious to send him was never written. But how much, under the commonest course of circ.u.mstances, happens in all domestic circles that is never observed or never remarked till the observation is too late!

At length the day arrived when Lady Armine invited her niece to visit her son. Miss Grandison expressed her readiness to accompany her aunt, but took an opportunity of requesting Glas...o...b..ry to join them; and all three proceeded to the chamber of the invalid.

The white curtain of the room was drawn; but though the light was softened, the apartment was by no means obscure. Ferdinand was sitting in an easy-chair, supported by pillows. A black handkerchief was just twined round his forehead, for his head had been shaved, except a few curls on the side and front, which looked stark and l.u.s.treless. He was so thin and pale, and his eyes and cheeks were so wan and hollow, that it was scarcely credible that in so short a s.p.a.ce of time a man could have become such a wreck. When he saw Katherine he involuntarily dropped his eyes, but extended his hand to her with some effort of earnestness.

She was almost as pale as he, but she took his hand. It was so light and cold, it felt so much like death, that the tears stole down her cheek.

'You hardly know me, Katherine,' said Ferdinand, feebly. 'This is good of you to visit a sick man.'

Miss Grandison could not reply, and Lady Armine made an observation to break the awkward pause.

'And how do you like Armine?' said Ferdinand. 'I wish I could be your guide. But Glas...o...b..ry is so kind!'

A hundred times Miss Grandison tried to reply, to speak, to make the commonest observation, but it was in vain. She grew paler every moment; her lips moved, but they sent forth no sound.

'Kate is not well,' said Lady Armine. 'She has been very unwell. This visit,' she added in a whisper to Ferdinand, 'is a little too much for her.'

Ferdinand sighed.

'Mother,' he at length said, 'you must ask Katherine to come and sit here with you; if indeed she will not feel the imprisonment.'

Miss Grandison turned in her chair, and hid her face with her handkerchief.

'My sweet child,' said Lady Armine, rising and kissing her, 'this is too much for you. You really must restrain yourself. Ferdinand will soon be himself again; he will indeed.'

Miss Grandison sobbed aloud. Glas...o...b..ry was much distressed, but Ferdinand avoided catching his eye; and yet, at last, Ferdinand said with an effort, and in a very kind voice, 'Dear Kate, come and sit by me.'

Miss Grandison went into hysterics; Ferdinand sprang from his chair and seized her hand; Lady Armine tried to restrain her son; Glas...o...b..ry held the agitated Katherine.

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