The Old Countess; or, The Two Proposals Part 21

For a moment the two men stood face to face. They had changed since their last parting; still that was but dimly seen in the light of a young moon, which was rising over the trees as the rich crimson faded away.

Hepworth saw that all the wild pa.s.sion of those times had died out of that face, leaving it calm and hard; but other change was concealed by the silvery quiver of light that fell upon it through the leaves.

Hepworth was the first to speak.

"My lord, you have received my letter, I trust?"

"Yes--and came at once to answer it."

"By your tone, by your manner, I should fear--"

"While this young lady is by, we will not speak of your fears," said the earl, with a slow motion of the hand. "Clara, you will find your--Lady Hope. She will, perhaps, be glad to hear that I have returned."

"Not while you meet me and--and Hepworth in this fas.h.i.+on, papa. I don't like it. One would think you intended to make trouble."

"Foolish child! Go as I tell you."

"Not while you look at me like that. Do you know, papa, that you have forgotten to kiss me, or even shake hands; and that is a thing I never saw you guilty of before."

Clara drew close to the haughty man, and turning her mouth into a half-open apple-blossom, held it up to be kissed.

The earl put her aside gently, but with firmness.

"Go to Lady Hope, as I bade you," he said. "This is no hour for trifling."

Clara stood motionless. All the color had left her face, even to the lips.

"Papa, are you in earnest?"

"In earnest? Yes."

"And you mean to refuse this gentleman?"

"Undoubtedly I mean to refuse that gentleman."

There was an emphasis of fine irony laid on the last word, which Hepworth felt with a sting of indignation; but he controlled himself, in respect to Clara's presence, and stood aloof, pale and stern as the man before him.

"I will go," said Clara; "but, before I leave you, let me say one thing: I love this gentleman. But for that, he never would have spoken to me or written to you. It was not his fault, or of his seeking. He had not been here a day before I loved him without knowing it. Now, all the world may know it for aught I care, for I never will marry any other man!"

Lord Hope did not reply to her, but turned to Hepworth.

"You have done honorable work, and in a short time!" he said. "I was not aware that Lady Hope would entertain her relatives in my absence, and with this result."

Hepworth did not answer then, but turning to Lady Clara, reached out his hand.

"Let me lead you to the house," he said. "After that I can meet Lord Hope on more equal terms."

Clara took his arm; but her father interposed.

"I will take charge of the lady," he said, with haughty coldness, drawing her arm within his, and leading her to the terrace, where he left her and returned to the cedar.

"Now, sir, let us conclude this matter at once. You ask the hand of my daughter in marriage. I refuse it. You are here under my roof an unexpected and unbidden guest. From this hour you cease to be welcome."

"My lord, had I never known you in the past, never served you in an unlawful desire, you would not have dared to address me in this fas.h.i.+on.

If you and I meet to bandy insults, it is because the past has left no mutual respect between us; but I have this advantage over you; the sins which have drawn on me even your contempt have been long since repented of, while yours, compared to which mine fade into innocence, seem but to have hardened into pride."

Lord Hope smiled.

"Of what crime does Mr. Hepworth Closs charge me?"

"I make no special charge, Lord Hope; but there is an old woman in America suffering the penalty of a crime which she never committed--which you know she never committed."

"The law decided otherwise, if I remember rightly," answered the earl, in a quiet, calm voice. "But even if it did not, does that relate to the question in hand?"

"No, no, and I am to blame in mentioning it--Heaven knows I wish to think the best! I admit, my lord, your prejudices against me would have been just when we knew each other so well; but I was very young then and can fairly claim to have worked out an honorable redemption from the faults of my youth. Believe me, I have won more than a respectable position among men; have wealth from my own exertions enough to satisfy even your wishes. True, I have not the rank to match yours; but there was a time when you thought it no disgrace to mate with my family."

Lord Hope was moved out of his proud calm now. He lifted his hand with a suddenness that was threatening, and cried out:

"Peace, sir! I have heard enough of this!"

"But I must remind you again that Lady Hope is my only sister, and in these insults you degrade her."

"Degrade her, when she is my wife!"

These words were drawn out with proud emphasis that stung Hepworth like a wasp.

"My lord," he said, "I will bear much from you, because I once loved you, but more from the fact that you are my sister's husband and _her_ father; but I warn you not even by a tone to cast reproach or slur upon your wife. She became such against my wishes and in spite of my protest.

That lady has all the elements of greatness within herself."

"What right had you to wish or protest?"

"The self-same right that you have to drive me from your daughter. You did not heed my wishes, why expect me to prove more delicate?"

"Because I can enforce what I wish, and you could not."

"How?"

"By asking Mr. Hepworth Closs to leave Oakhurst at once, and by providing against all chance of his coming here again."

Closs turned very white, and his hand clenched and unclenched itself with pa.s.sionate force.

"My lord, this is a cruel insult, which I have not deserved!"

All at once the earl turned, with some show of feeling, and looked Hepworth steadily in the face.

"Hepworth Closs, listen to me. If I seem cruel and unmanly, it is because I wish to be kind. The hand which sweeps a moth from its circling around a candle, must seem very cruel to the poor insect. I tell you, fairly, Hepworth Closs, it is not so much pride of birth or personal dislike that prompts me to deny my daughter to you. But she is heiress in entail to the Ca.r.s.et t.i.tle and Houghton Castle, a n.o.ble t.i.tle, without support, unless the old countess makes her heiress, by will, of her personal estates. By marrying your sister, I mortally offended this old lady. Rachael has been, from first to last, the special object of her dislike. Lady Clara has added to this by refusing to visit Houghton unless her stepmother is received there also. This quarrel may throw one of the richest inheritances in England out of my family, and all from my unfortunate marriage."

"Your unfortunate marriage!" exclaimed Closs, hotly.