"But your father would not have her sent, you know, Eliza," spoke Mrs.
Carradyne.
"Then----"
"Miss West, ma"am," interrupted Rimmer, the butler, showing in the traveller.
"Dear me, how very young!" was Mrs. Carradyne"s first thought. "And what a lovely face!"
She came in shyly. In her whole appearance there was a shrinking, timid gentleness, betokening refinement of feeling. A slender, lady-like girl, in a plain, dark travelling-suit and a black bonnet lined and tied with pink, a little lace border shading her nut-brown hair. The bonnets in those days set off a pretty face better than do these modern ones.
That"s what the Squire tells us.
Mrs. Carradyne advanced and shook hands cordially; Eliza bent her head slightly from where she stood; Harry Carradyne stood up, a pleasant welcome in his blue eyes and in his voice, as he laughingly congratulated her upon the ancient Evesham fly not having come to grief en route. Kate Danc.o.x pressed forward.
"Are you my new governess?"
The young lady smiled and said she believed so.
"Aunt Eliza hates governesses; so do I. Do you expect to make me obey you?"
The governess blushed painfully; but took courage to say she hoped she should. Harry Carradyne thought it the very loveliest blush he had ever seen in all his travels, and she the sweetest-looking girl.
And when Captain Monk came in he quite took to her appearance, for he hated to have ugly people about him. But every now and then there was a look in her face, or in her eyes, that struck him as being familiar--as if he had once known someone who resembled her. Pleasing, soft, dark hazel eyes they were as one could wish to see, with goodness in their depths.
III
Months pa.s.sed away, and Miss West was domesticated in her new home. It was not all sunshine. Mrs. Carradyne, ever considerate, strove to render things agreeable; but there were sources of annoyance over which she had no control. Kate, when she chose, could be verily a little elf, a demon; as Mrs. Hamlyn often put it, "a diablesse." And she, that lady herself, invariably treated the governess with a sort of cool, indifferent contempt; and she was more often at Leet Hall than away from it. The Captain, too, gave way to fits of temper that simply terrified Miss West. Reared in the quiet atmosphere of a well-trained school, she had never met with temper such as this.
On the other hand--yes, on the other hand, she had an easy place of it, generous living, was regarded as a lady, and--she had learnt to love Harry Carradyne for weal or for woe.
But not--please take notice--not unsolicited. Tacitly, at any rate.
If Mr. Harry"s speaking blue eyes were to be trusted and Mr. Harry"s tell-tale tones when with her, his love, at the very least, equalled hers. Eliza Hamlyn, despite the penetration that ill-nature generally can exercise, had not yet scented any such treason in the wind: or there would have blown up a storm.
Spring was to bring its events; but first of all it must be said that during the winter little Walter Hamlyn was taken ill at Leet Hall when staying there with his mother. The malady turned out to be gastric fever, and Mr. Speck was in constant attendance. For the few days that the child lay in danger, Eliza was almost wild. The progress to convalescence was very slow, lasting many weeks; and during that time Captain Monk, being much with the little fellow, grew to be fond of him with an unreasonable affection.
"I"m not sure but I shall leave Leet Hall to him after all," he suddenly observed to Eliza one day, not noticing that Harry Carradyne was standing in the recess of the window. "Halloa! are you there, Harry?
Well, it can"t be helped. You heard what I said?"
"I heard, Uncle G.o.dfrey: but I did not understand."
"Eliza thinks Leet Hall ought to go in the direct line--through her--to this child. What should you say to that?"
"What could he say to it?" imperiously demanded Eliza. "He is only your nephew."
Harry looked from one to the other in a sort of bewildered surprise: and there came a silence.
"Uncle G.o.dfrey," he said at last, starting out of a reverie, "you have been good enough to make me your heir. It was unexpected on my part, unsolicited; but you did do it, and you caused me to leave the army in consequence, to give up my fair prospects in life. I am aware that this deed is not irrevocable, and certainly you have the right to do what you will with your own property. But you must forgive me for saying that you should have made quite sure of your intentions beforehand: before taking me up, if it be only to throw me aside again."
"There, there, we"ll leave it," retorted Captain Monk testily. "No harm"s done to you yet, Mr. Harry; I don"t know that it will be."
But Harry Carradyne felt sure that it would be; that he should be despoiled of the inheritance. The resolute look of power on Eliza"s face, bent on him as he quitted the chamber, was an earnest of that.
Captain Monk was not the determined man he had once been; that was over.
"A pretty kettle of fish, this is," ruefully soliloquised Harry, as he marched along the corridor. "Eliza"s safe to get her will; no doubt of that. And I? what am I to do? I can"t repurchase and go back amongst them again like a returned shilling; at least, I won"t; and I can"t turn Parson, or Queen"s Counsel, or Cabinet Minister. I"m fitted for nothing now, that I see, but to be a gentleman-at-large; and what would the gentleman"s income be?"
Standing at the corridor window, softly whistling, he ran over ways and means in his mind. He had a pretty house of his own, Peac.o.c.k"s Range, formerly his father"s, and about four hundred a-year. After his mother"s death it would not be less than a thousand a-year.
"That means bread and cheese at present. Later---- Heyday, young lady, what"s the matter?"
The school room door, close by, had opened with a burst, and Miss Kate Danc.o.x was flying down the stairs--her usual progress the minute lessons were over. Harry strolled into the room. The governess was putting the littered table straight.
"Any admission, ma"am?" cried he quaintly, making for a chair. "I should like to ask leave to sit down for a bit."
Alice West laughed, and stirred the fire by way of welcome; he was a very rare visitor to the school-room. The blaze, mingling with the rays of the setting sun that streamed in at the window, played upon her sweet face and silky brown hair, lighted up the bright winter dress she wore, and the bow of pink ribbon that fastened the white lace round her slender, pretty throat.
"Are you so much in need of a seat?" she laughingly asked.
"Indeed I am," was the semi-grave response. "I have had a shock."
"A very sharp one, sir?"
"Sharp as steel. Really and truly," he went on in a different tone, as he left the chair and stood up by the table, facing her; "I have just heard news that may affect my whole future life; may change me from a rich man to a poor one."
"Oh, Mr. Carradyne!" Her manner had changed now.
"I was the destined inheritor, as you know--for I"m sure n.o.body has been reticent upon the subject--of these broad lands," with a sweep of the hand towards the plains outside. "Captain Monk is now pleased to inform me that he thinks of subst.i.tuting for me Mrs. Hamlyn"s child."
"But would not that be very unjust?"
"Hardly fair--as it seems to me. Considering that my good uncle obliged me to give up my own prospects for it."
She stood, her hands clasped in sympathy, her face full of earnest sadness. "How unkind! Why, it would be cruel!"
"Well, I confess I felt it to be so at the first blow. But, standing at the outside window yonder, pulling myself together, a ray or two of light crept in, showing me that it may be for the best after all.
"Whatever _is_, is right," you know."
"Yes," she slowly said--"if you can think so. But, Mr. Carradyne, should you not have anything at all?--anything to live upon after Captain Monk"s death?"
"Just a trifle, I calculate, as the Americans say--and it is calculating I have been--so that I need not altogether starve. Would you like to know how much it will be?"
"Oh, please don"t laugh at me!"--for it suddenly struck the girl that he was laughing, perhaps in reproof, and that she had spoken too freely.
"I ought not to have asked that; I was not thinking--I was too sorry to think."
"But I may as well tell you, if you don"t mind. I have a very pretty little place, which you have seen and heard of, called by that delectable t.i.tle Peac.o.c.k"s Range----"
"Is Peac.o.c.k"s Range yours?" she interrupted, in surprise. "I thought it belonged to Mr. Peveril."
"Peac.o.c.k"s Range is mine and was my father"s before me, Miss Alice. It was leased to Peveril for a term of years, but I fancy he would be glad to give it up to-morrow. Well, I have Peac.o.c.k"s Range and about four hundred pounds a-year."