Mildred threw her arms round Gertrude, and bent her face upon her neck.
"Marry him!" she exclaimed in a whisper--"never!"
"Ay," thought Mrs. Winston, pressing her sister to her bosom, "I said the same. And yet.... But I had no refuge. I was unsupported, and helpless. It is a hard struggle. May it not be avoided? Can we not gain time? If Melcomb had a spark of generosity.... But he is too vain ...and even then our mother.... There is nothing for it but time. Mildred, dearest," she continued aloud, "you need not tremble so. You will not have to accept Mr. Melcomb."
"What mean you?" her sister asked, raising her head.
"Listen: I understand this gentleman, and so, I think, do you. He will not dream of asking your consent. He will take it for granted. Let him--let him till the time comes. It will not be long, but we shall have a chance of avoiding eclat. Tell mamma, that though you are not now favourable to Mr. Melcomb, you cannot refuse to see him, and she will be satisfied. And then we shall have the chapter of accidents on our side."
"Must I do this, Gertrude?" Mildred exclaimed. "There was a time when I was amused with his compliments, Heaven forgive me! But to listen to them now! Encourage him, I never did. He knew I was laughing. Ah me!
If I escape this time, I will never flirt again."
"Be not too sure," said Gertrude. "But take your sister"s word, no harm will come. And remember, here is your home as a last resort.
Come, come," she continued, in answer to a sigh from her sister, "let me take you a drive. You are as pale as Ophelia. But ah, ca ira, ca ira ... do not repeat my revolutionary music to papa."
As the sisters rode along, Mrs. Winston turned the conversation to the scene which had occurred at her late party. She had not seen it, nor indeed had any one save those who were mentioned at the time. She brought the colour into Mildred"s cheeks, by alluding with a smile, to her retirement with her partner to that unfrequented little room; and she made her heart beat quick by relating all the circ.u.mstances which she had learned from Rereworth, who had duly delivered Randolph"s message, and taken the opportunity of extolling the merits of his friend. And Gertrude ended by expressing her deep regret at the continuance of the family disagreement, to which her attention had been specifically drawn for the first time, and her hope that it might be approaching its termination. Every word of the narrative increased the interest which was already warm in Mildred"s heart, and made her feel a greater repugnance to receiving Melcomb in the equivocal manner recommended by her sister.
CHAPTER XV.
"Regretter ce qu"on aime est un bien, en comparaison de vivre avec ce que l"on hait."
LA BRUYeRE.
Mildred"s trial was not destined to last long. Her suitor was more impatient than Mrs. Winston predicted. He would, indeed, as she suggested, have willingly continued to accept a vicarious consent, until things had gone so far that his intended bride should be unable to recede. Hitherto he had given her no opportunity for resistance, and now with all his a.s.surance he dreaded to begin. Mildred"s indifference was so chilling that his spirits deserted him in her presence. He would have left her free, but for the fear of ridicule, and the need, the pressing need, of her fortune. The time came to make the plunge.
"Miss Pendarrel," Melcomb said, as they sat together in a small drawing-room, "dear Miss Pendarrel, you must be aware how long I have been the most devoted of your servants."
Mildred had acquired the habit of receiving Melcomb"s compliments in silence. She said nothing.
"It is true no service could make any man worthy of Miss Pendarrel,"
the suitor continued; "yet I have been led to hope, unworthy as I am, that mine might not be doomed to be endless. Is it not so, dear Miss Pendarrel?"
"You have been led to hope nothing by me, Mr. Melcomb," Mildred answered, agitated by the unusual embarra.s.sment in his manner.
"Nay," urged the c.o.xcomb, "may I not hope from the position which Miss Pendarrel has permitted me to a.s.sume...."
"You have had no permission from me, Mr. Melcomb," said Mildred, interrupting him. She had well prepared herself for the scene, and preserved her spirit, though very much distressed.
"Surely," he continued, "I am not presumptuous in considering it implied."
Mildred was silent. Hers was no case for argument.
"Not presumptuous," Melcomb went on, speaking more rapidly, "in aspiring to the happiness which that permission seemed to promise. Not presumptuous in imploring dear Miss Pendarrel to appoint the time, when anxiety and fidelity may be rewarded with joy, and I may become the most fortunate of men."
"Mr. Melcomb," Mildred said, rising from her chair, and trembling, "I am above pretending to misunderstand you. Have you my mother"s ...
Does she...."
"It is by Mrs. Pendarrel"s leave that I venture," said the c.o.xcomb in his softest manner. "And an early day, dearest Mildred,----"
He made a step as if to take her hand, but she recoiled, and said, in a tone of determination, which Melcomb probably never forgot, "The day will never come."
She turned towards the door, but stopped as though she wished to say something more. Melcomb had antic.i.p.ated a refusal, but not one so decisive.
"Miss Pendarrel will pardon my expressing surprise...." he began to say. Mildred hastily interrupted him, with faltering words.
"Sir, sir, perhaps it is I should ask your pardon--but you have never--it is the first time--I have had no opportunity--in pity to me, sir, urge these addresses no farther."
She could no longer restrain her tears, and quitted the room, Melcomb making no attempt to detain her.
He was neither surprised, nor mortified, nor even discomposed. It was a check by discovery, long expected and prepared for, by no means check-mate. And he had not lost his queen. The game was by no means desperate. But he wished for time to consider his next move, and left the house without seeing Mrs. Pendarrel.
That lady immediately conjectured what had occurred, and only feared that Mildred might have affronted her suitor to such a degree as to make him abandon his intentions. He had not been very long gone before she sought an explanation from her daughter.
"Mildred, my dear child," she said, "what is the meaning of this? How happens it, that the politest of mankind leaves my house without kissing my hand?"
There was a covert irony in Mrs. Pendarrel"s manner, which, against her will, betrayed her own contempt for Melcomb, and at the same time showed her ruthless resolution.
"Mamma," Mildred answered, fixing her reddened eyes on her mother"s, "you know."
"Nay, child, I am not a divine. I hope you were not rude to Mr.
Melcomb? To your intended husband?"
"I refused him, mamma."
"And why did you not refuse him long ago?" Mrs. Pendarrel asked abruptly.
"He never asked me, mother," answered Mildred, swinging her hand to and fro. "He never asked me. Till just now I have heard nothing from him that I could take as a proposal. How anxiously I have waited for one, G.o.d knows."
Mrs. Pendarrel bit her lip.
"It is of no consequence," she said, "you cannot recede without disgrace and shame. If you are prepared to submit to them, I am not.
This marriage must proceed. Always, that is, if you have not affronted Mr. Melcomb irrevocably. But you dared not."
A flash in Mildred"s eye at the word might show Esther more daring than she would like.
"Mother," she said, "I prayed Mr. Melcomb, in pity, to urge his suit no more. I make a similar prayer to you. And, mother, there is one thing I dare not do. I dare not wed this man."
"I fancy you will find heart," said Mrs. Pendarrel, with a sneer on the word. "And since you are so agitated, you had better stay at home till you do."
But that home was to be changed. Immediately after this conversation, Mrs. Pendarrel determined to carry her daughter down into Cornwall, and finish the matter with a high hand. She had another motive for the journey, having heard from Sinson that the Trevethlans had gone home, and feeling, she scarcely knew why, desirous to be near them. But, before she could execute her design, she had to undergo a remonstrance from Mrs. Winston.
"And can the news I hear be true, dear mamma?" the latter asked.
"What news, Gertrude?"
"That Mildred is to be Mrs. Melcomb?"