"Well; what would you have me say? Do I not know that he is offering you the best gift that he can give? Did I not begin by swearing to you that he loved you with a pa.s.sion of love that cannot but be flattering to you? If it is to be love in vain, this to him is a great misfortune. And, yet, when I say that I hope that he will recover, you tell me that I am unkind."
"No;--not for that."
"May I tell him to come and plead for himself?"
Again Clara was silent, not knowing how to answer that last question.
And when she did answer it, she answered it thoughtlessly. "Of course he knows that he can do that."
"He says that he has been forbidden."
"Oh, Mary, what am I to say to you? You know it all, and I wonder that you can continue to question me in this way."
"Know all what?"
"That I have been engaged to Captain Aylmer."
"But you are not engaged to him now."
"No--I am not."
"And there can be no renewal there, I suppose?"
"Oh, no!"
"Not even for my brother would I say a word if I thought--"
"No;--there is nothing of that; but--. If you cannot understand, I do not think that I can explain it." It seemed to Clara that her cousin, in her anxiety for her brother, did not conceive that a woman, even if she could suddenly transfer her affections from one man to another, could not bring herself to say that she had done so.
"I must write to him to-day," said Mary, "and I must give him some answer. Shall I tell him that he had better not come here till you are gone?"
"That will perhaps be best," said Clara.
"Then he will never come at all."
"I can go;--can go at once. I will go at once. You shall never have to say that my presence prevented his coming to his own house. I ought not to be here. I know it now. I will go away, and you may tell him that I am gone."
"No, dear; you will not go."
"Yes;--I must go. I fancied things might be otherwise, because he once told me that--he--would--be--a brother to me. And I said I would hold him to that;--not only because I want a brother so badly, but because I love him so dearly. But it cannot be like that."
"You do not think that he will ever desert you?"
"But I will go away, so that he may come to his own house. I ought not to be here. Of course I ought not to be at Belton,--either in this house or in any other. Tell him that I will be gone before he can come, and tell him also that I will not be too proud to accept from him what it may be fit that he should give me. I have no one but him;--no one but him;--no one but him." Then she burst into tears, and throwing back her head, covered her face with her hands.
Miss Belton, upon this, rose slowly from the chair on which she was sitting, and making her way painfully across to Clara, stood leaning on the weeping girl"s chair. "You shall not go while I am here," she said.
"Yes; I must go. He cannot come till I am gone."
"Think of it all once again, Clara. May I not tell him to come, and that while he is coming you will see if you cannot soften your heart towards him?"
"Soften my heart! Oh, if I could only harden it!"
"He would wait. If you would only bid him wait, he would be so happy in waiting."
"Yes--till to-morrow morning. I know him. Hold out your little finger to him, and he has your whole hand and arm in a moment."
"I want you to say that you will try to love him."
But Clara was in truth trying not to love him. She was ashamed of herself because she did love the one man, when, but a few weeks since, she had confessed that she loved another. She had mistaken herself and her own feelings, not in reference to her cousin, but in supposing that she could really have sympathised with such a man as Captain Aylmer. It was necessary to her self-respect that she should be punished because of that mistake. She could not save herself from this condemnation,--she would not grant herself a respite--because, by doing so, she would make another person happy. Had Captain Aylmer never crossed her path, she would have given her whole heart to her cousin. Nay; she had so given it,--had done so, although Captain Aylmer had crossed her path and come in her way. But it was matter of shame to her to find that this had been possible, and she could not bring herself to confess her shame.
The conversation at last ended, as such conversations always do end, without any positive decision. Mary wrote of course to her brother, but Clara was not told of the contents of the letter. We, however, may know them, and may understand their nature, without learning above two lines of the letter. "If you can be content to wait awhile, you will succeed," said Mary; "but when were you ever content to wait for anything?" "If there is anything I hate, it is waiting,"
said Will, when he received the letter; nevertheless the letter made him happy, and he went about his farm with a sanguine heart, as he arranged matters for another absence. "Away long?" he said, in answer to a question asked him by his head man; "how on earth can I say how long I shall be away? You can go on well enough without me by this time, I should think. You will have to learn, for there is no knowing how often I may be away, or for how long."
When Mary said that the letter had been written, Clara again spoke about going. "And where will you go?" said Mary.
"I will take a lodging in Taunton."
"He would only follow you there, and there would be more trouble.
That would be all. He must act as your guardian, and in that capacity, at any rate, you must submit to him." Clara, therefore, consented to remain at Belton; but, before Will arrived, she returned from the house to the cottage.
"Of course I understand all about it," said Mrs. Askerton; "and let me tell you this,--that if it is not all settled within a week from his coming here, I shall think that you are without a heart. He is to be knocked about, and cuffed, and kept from his work, and made to run up and down between here and Norfolk, because you cannot bring yourself to confess that you have been a fool."
"I have never said that I have not been a fool," said Clara.
"You have made a mistake,--as young women will do sometimes, even when they are as prudent and circ.u.mspect as you are,--and now you don"t quite like the task of putting it right."
It was all true, and Clara knew that it was true. The putting right of mistakes is never pleasant; and in this case it was so unpleasant that she could not bring herself to acknowledge that it must be done.
And yet, I think, that by this time she was aware of the necessity.
CHAPTER x.x.xI.
TAKING POSSESSION.
"I want her to have it all," said William Belton to Mr. Green, the lawyer, when they came to discuss the necessary arrangements for the property.
"But that would be absurd."
"Never mind. It is what I wish. I suppose a man may do what he likes with his own."
"She won"t take it," said the lawyer.
"She must take it, if you manage the matter properly," said Will.
"I don"t suppose it will make much difference," said the lawyer,--"now that Captain Aylmer is out of the running."