Part 58 (1/2)
”Lennox!” repeated Sir Sampson, his little dim eyes kindling at the name--”Who talks of Lennox I--I--I won't suffer it. Where's my Lady?
Lennox!--he's a scoundrel! You shan't marry a Lennox!” Turning to Grizzy, ”Call Philistine, and my Lady.” And his agitation was so great that even Grizzy, although accustomed for forty years to witness similar ebullitions, became alarmed.
”You see it's all for fear of my marrying,” whispered she to Mary.
”I'm sure such a disinterested attachment, it's impossible for me ever to repay it!”
Then turning to Sir Sampson, she sought to soothe his perturbation by oft-repeated a.s.surances that it was not her but her niece Mary that was going to be married to Colonel Lennox. But in vain; Sir Sampson quivered, and panted, and muttered; and the louder Grizzy screamed out the truth the more his irritation increased. Recourse was now had to Philistine; and Mary, thoroughly ashamed of the eclat attending the disclosure of her secret, and finding she could be of no use, stole away in the midst of Miss Grizzy's endless _verbiage_, but as she descended the stairs she still heard the same a.s.surance resounding--”I can a.s.sure you, Sir Sampson, it's not me, but my niece Mary that's going to be married to Colonel Lennox,” etc.
On returning to Beech Park she said nothing of what had pa.s.sed either to Lady Emily or Colonel Lennox--aware of the amus.e.m.e.nt it would furnish to both; and she felt that her aunt required all the dignity with which she could invest her before presenting her to her future nephew. The only delay to her marriage now rested with herself; but she was desirous it should take place under the roof which had sheltered her infancy, and sanctioned by the presence of those whom she had ever regarded as her parents. Lady Emily, Colonel Lennox, and her brother had all endeavoured to combat this resolution, but in vain; and it was therefore settled that she should remain to witness the union of her brother and her cousin, and then return to Lochmarlie. But all Mary's preconceived plans were threatened with a downfall by the receipt of the following letter from Miss Jacky:--
GLENFERN CASTLE, ---s.h.i.+RIE, _June_ 19, 181--.
”It _is_ impossible for _language_ to express to _you_ the _shame,_ grief, amazement, and _indignation,_ with _which_ we are _all_ filled at the distressing, the _ignominious_ disclosure that has _just_ taken _place_ concerning you, _through_ our most _excellent_ friend Miss P.
M'Pry. Oh, Mary, _how_ have you _deceived_ us all!!! What a _dagger _have _you_ plunged into _all_ our hearts! Your _poor _Aunt _Grizzy!_ how my _heart_ bleeds _for_ her! What a difficult part _has_ she to act! and at her _time_ of life! with her acute _feelings!_ with her devoted _attachment _to the _house_ of M'Laughlan! What a _blow!_ and a _blow _from your _hand!_ Oh, Mary, I _must_ again repeat, how _have_ you deceived us _all_!!! Yet _do_ not imagine I mean to _reproach_ you!
Much, much of the blame is _doubtless _imputable to the errors of _your_ education! At the _same _time, even these _offer_ no justification of your _conduct _upon the present occasion! You are now (I lament to say it!) _come_ to that time of _life_ when _you_ ought to know _what_ is right; or, where you entertain _any_ doubts, you ought _most_ unquestionably to _apply_ to those _who_, you _may_ be certain, _are_ well qualified to direct you. _But,_ instead _of_ that, you have _pursued_ a diametrically opposite _plan:_ a plan which _might_ have _ended_ in your destruction! Oh, Mary, _I_ cannot too _often _repeat, how have _you_ deceived us all!!! From no _lips _but those of Miss M'Pry _would_ I have believed _what_ I have heard, videlicet, that you (oh, Mary!) have, for many, many months _past,_ been carrying on a clandestine _correspondence _with a _young_ man, unknown, unsuspected by _all_ your friends here! and that _young_ man, the very _last_ man on the face of the _earth_ whom you, or any of _us,_ ought to have given our countenance _to!_ The very man, in _short,_ whom we were all _bound,_ by every _principle_ of duty, grat.i.tude, and esteem, to have shunned, and who you are _bound, _from this _moment,_ to renounce for ever. How you ever _came _to be acquainted _with_ Colonel Charles Lennox of Rose Hall is a mystery none of us can fathom; but surely the person, _whoever _it was that _brought_ it about, has much, _much_ to answer for! Mrs. Douglas (to whom I _thought_ it proper to _make _an immediate _communication_ on the subject) pretends to _have_ been well informed of all that has _been_ going on, and even insists that _your_ acquaintance _with_ the Lennox family _took_ place through Lady M'Laughlan! _But_ that we _all_ know to be _morally_ impossible. Lady M'Laughlan is the _very_ last person in the _world_ who would have _introduced_ you, or any _young_ creature for whom she had the _slightest_ regard, to a Lennox, the _mortal enemy of the M'Laughlan race!_ I most _sincerely_ trust she is spared the _shock_ we have all experienced at this painful _disclosure. _With her _high_ principles, and _great_ regard for us, I tremble to think _what_ might be the consequences! And dear Sir Sampson, in his delicate state, how _would_ he ever be able to _stand_ such a blow! and a blow, too, from your _hand,_ Mary! you, who he _was_ always _like_ a father to! _Many_ a time, I am sure, _have_ you sat upon his _knee,_ and you certainly _cannot_ have forgot the _elegant_ Shetland pony he presented you _with_ the day you was five _years_ old! And _what_ a return for such favours!
”But I fondly trust it _is_ not yet too late. You have _only_ to give up this unworthy attachment, and all _will_ be forgotten and _forgiven_; and we will all receive you as if _nothing_ had happened. Oh, Mary! I must, for the last _time_ repeat, how have you deceived us _all_!
”I am your distressed aunt,
”JOAN DOUGLAS.
P.S.--I conclude abruptly, in _order_ to leave _room_ for your Aunt Nicky to _state_ her sentiments also on this _most_ afflicting subject.”
Nicky's appendix was as follows:--
”DEAR MARY--Jacky has read her letter to us. It is most excellent. We are all much affected by it. Not a word but deserves to be printed. I can add nothing. You see, if you marry Colonel L. none of us can be at your marriage. How could we? I hope you will think twice about it.
Second thoughts are best. What's done cannot be undone. Yours,
”N. D.”
Mary felt somewhat in the situation of the sleeper awakened, as she perused these mysterious anathemas; and rubbed her eyes more than once in hopes of dispelling the mist that she thought must needs be upon them. But in vain: it seemed only to increase with every effort she made to remove it. Not a single ray of light fell on the palpable obscure of Miss Jacky's composition, that could enable her to penetrate the dark profound that encompa.s.sed her. She was aware, indeed, that when her aunt meant to be pathetic or energetic she always had recourse to the longest and the strongest words she could possibly lay her hands upon; and Mary had been well accustomed to hear her childish faults and juvenile indiscretions denounced in the most awful terms as crimes of the deepest dye. Many an exordium she had listened to on the tearing of her frock, or the losing of her glove, that might have served as a preface to the ”Newgate Calendar,” ”Colquhoun on the Police,” or any other register of crimes. Still she had always been able to detect some clue to her own misdeeds; but here even conjecture was baffled, and in vain she sought for some resting-place for her imagination, in the probable misdemeanour of her lover. But even allowing all possible lat.i.tude for Jacky's pen, she was forced to acknowledge there must be some ground for her aunt to build upon. Superficial as her structures generally were, like children's card-houses, they had always something to rest upon; though (unlike them) her creations were invariably upon a gigantic scale.
Mary had often reflected with surprise that, although Lady Maclauglan had been the person to introduce her to Mrs. Lennox, no intercourse had taken place between the families themselves; and when she had mentioned them to each other Mrs. Lennox had only sighed, and Lady Maclaughlan had humphed. She despaired of arriving at the knowledge of the truth from her aunts. Grizzy's brain was a mere wisp of contradictions; and Jacky's mind was of that violent hue that cast its own shade upon every object that came in contact with it. To mention the matter to Colonel Lennox was only to make the relations ridiculous; and, in short, although it was a formidable step, the result of her deliberation was to go to Lady Maclaughlan, and request a solution of her aunt's dark sayings. She therefore departed for Milsom Street, and, upon entering the drawing-room, found Grizzy alone, and evidently in even more than usual perturbation.
”Oh, Mary!” cried she, as her niece entered, ”I'm sure I'm thankful you're come. I was just wis.h.i.+ng for you. You can't think how much mischief your yesterday's visit has done. It's a thousand pities, I declare, that ever you said a word about your marriage to Sir Sampson.
But of course I don't mean to blame you, Mary. You know you couldn't help it; so don't vex yourself, for you know that will not make the thing any better now. Only if Sir Sampson should die--to be sure I must always think it was that that killed him; and I'm sure it at will soon kill me too-such a friend--oh, Mary!” Here a burst of grief choked poor Miss Grizzy's utterance.
”My dear aunt,” said Mary, ”you certainly must be mistaken. Sir Sampson seems to retain no recollection of me. It is therefore impossible that I could cause him any pain or agitation.”
”Oh certainly!” said Grizzy. ”There's no doubt Sir Sampson has quite forgot you, Mary--and no wonder-with your being so long away; but I daresay he'll come to know you yet. But I'm sure I hope to goodness he'll never know you as Mrs. Lennox, Mary. That would break his heart altogether; for you know the Lennoxes have always been the greatest enemies of the Maclaughlans,--and of course Sir Sampson can't bear anybody of the name, which is quite natural. And it was very thoughtless in me to have forgot that till Philistine put me in mind of it, and poor Sir Sampson has had a very bad night; so I'm sure I hope, Mary, you'll never think any more about Colonel Lennox; and, take my word for it, you'll get plenty of husbands yet. Now, since there's a peace, there will be plenty of fine young officers coming home. There's young Balquhadan, a captain, I know, in some regiment; and there's Dhalahulish, and Lochgrunason, and--” But Miss Grizzy's ideas here shot out into so many ramifications upon so many different branches of the county tree, that it would be in vain for any but a true Celt to attempt to follow her.
Mary again tried to lead her back to the subject of the Lennoxes, in hopes of being able to extract some spark of knowledge from the dark chaos of her brain.
”Oh, I'm sure, Mary, if you want to hear about that, I can tell you plenty about the Lennoxes; or at any rate about the Maclaughlans, which is the same thing. But I must first find my huswife.”
To save Miss Grizzy's reminiscence, a few words will suffice to clear up the mystery. A family feud of remote origin had long subsisted between the families of Lennox and Maclaughlan, which had been carefully transmitted from father to son, till the hereditary brand had been deposited in the breast of Sir Sampson. By the death of many intervening heirs General Lennox, then a youth, was next in succession to the Maclaughlan estate; but the power of alienating it was vested in Sir Sampson, as the last remaining heir of the entail. By the mistaken zeal of their friends both were, at an early period, placed in the same regiment, in the hope that constant as a.s.sociation together would quickly destroy their mutual prejudices, and produce a reconciliation.
But the inequalities were too great ever to a.s.similate. Sir Sampson possessed a large fortune, a deformed person, and a weak, vain, irritable mind. General (then Ensign) Lennox had no other patrimony than his sword--a handsome person, high spirit, and dauntless courage. With these tempers, it may easily be conceived that a thousand trifling events occurred to keep alive the hereditary animosity. Sir Sampson's mind expected from his poor kinsman a degree of deference and respect which the other, so far from rendering, rather sought opportunities of showing his contempt for, and of thwarting and ridiculing him upon every occasion, till Sir Sampson was obliged to quit the regiment. From that time it was understood that all bearing the name of Lennox were for ever excluded from the succession to the Maclaughlan estates; and it was deemed a sort of petty treason even to name the name of a Lennox in presence of this dignified chieftain.
Many years had worn away, and Sir Sampson had pa.s.sed through the various modifications of human nature, from the ”mewling infant” to ”mere oblivion,” without having become either wiser or better. His mind remained the same--irascible and vindictive to the last. Lady Maclaughlan had too much sense to attempt to reason or argue him out of his prejudices, but she contrived to prevent him from ever executing a new entail. She had known and esteemed both General and Mrs. Lennox before her marriage with Sir Sampson, and she was too firm and decided in her predilections ever to abandon them; and while she had the credit of sharing in all her husband's animosity, she was silently protecting the lawful rights of those who had long ceased to consider them as such.