The Old Countess; or, The Two Proposals Part 33

"There, now, that is very kind of you, grandmamma, and you are just the dearest, sweetest and queenliest lady that ever made a poor girl happy, when she was, in fact, homesick as death. The truth is, mamma Rachael spoils me so completely with her great love, and--but, oh! I forgot you can't bear mamma Rachael. Dear me! I am always getting into sc.r.a.pes.

Does that belong to the Ca.r.s.et blood, I wonder?"

The waiting-maid stood petrified when the old countess broke into a soft, pleasant laugh, at what she deemed the insolent familiarity of this speech. "Did you hear that?" she exclaimed, wiping the moisture from her eyes, and increasing the vibrations of her head.

"Who but a Ca.r.s.et would dare ask such questions? Getting into sc.r.a.pes, child; why there never was a family so reckless or so independent. That is, I speak of the males, remember! the ladies of the house--but you will see in the picture gallery, and judge for yourself. No commonplace women can be found among the Ca.r.s.et ladies. Some of them, my child, have intermarried with Royalty itself. You are the last of the line, Lady Clara."

Clara turned pale. She thought of Hepworth Closs, and how far he was removed from royalty; but with no thought of faithlessness in her heart.

She was very sure that the next Lord of Houghton would wear neither crown or coronet--but, like a wise girl, she sat still and said nothing.

The old countess was very feeble. Notwithstanding the excitement, which left a tremulous pink on her withered cheeks, the strength began to fail from her limbs. Gathering up her feet upon the couch, she closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, Lady Clara was bending toward her with a look of tender anxiety that went to the old lady's heart. A soft smile stole over her lips, and she held out her hand.

"Go to your room, my child."

Clara stooped down and kissed that delicate mouth with her own blooming lips.

"Sleep well, grandmother," she whispered; "I will come back again by-and-by, after I have seen the other ladies in the picture-gallery."

Clara picked up her hat, and was going out on tip-toe, when Judson laid a long, lean hand on her arm, and addressed her in one of those shrill whispers, which penetrate more surely than words.

"Don't wear that thing into my lady's presence again," she said. "Did you see her eyes, when they first fell upon it?"

"What, my poor little hat? Has grandmamma really taken a dislike to that? I am so sorry."

The old countess opened her eyes, and rose on one elbow among her cus.h.i.+ons.

"Let the child alone, Judson. The hat is well enough, and she looked very pretty in it."

"n.o.bby, isn't it, grandmamma?" said Clara, tossing the hat to her head, and shaking down the blue streamers; "and I'm so fond of it."

"Judson," said the old countess, "do not attempt to judge for your mistress at this time of day. No one but a Ca.r.s.et could wear a thing like that, without looking vulgar; but you saw what an air she gave it."

Judson was astounded. She had absolutely trembled, when that round hat came into the room, in defiance of the faint protest which she had ventured to make.

"I was afraid, my lady, that a dress like that might set you against the young lady."

"Set me against my own grandchild, and she so unmistakably a Ca.r.s.et! I am surprised, Judson."

"I am sure there was no idea in my mind of giving offense. She is a pretty young lady enough."

"Pretty! Are you speaking of that charming young creature, with the air of a d.u.c.h.ess and the heart of a child, only to say that she is pretty?"

"Did I say pretty, my lady, when I think her so beautiful?"

"All the more beautiful, Judson, for not being so tall as some of the ladies of our house. She owes nothing to size. Perhaps you have remarked, Judson, that those of the purest Ca.r.s.et blood have never been large women."

A sweet, complacent smile quivered around those old lips, as the countess settled back among her cus.h.i.+ons. She, a pet.i.te creature, had Ca.r.s.et blood in her veins from both parents, and in her youth she had been distinguished among the most beautiful women of England. She was thinking of those days, when those withered eyelids closed again, and they followed her softly into her sleep, which the grim maid watched with the faithfulness of a slave.

Meantime Clara went into the long picture gallery, and there among a crowd of statues, and deeply-toned pictures by the old masters, made the acquaintance of her stately ancestors, and of the ladies who had one and all been peeresses in their own right--an access of rank, prized almost like a heritage of royalty by the old lady in the tower-chamber.

No one had gone with the young heiress into the gallery, for, with her childish wilfulness, she had preferred to go alone, and single out the Ca.r.s.et ladies by their resemblance to the old countess.

All at once she stopped before the picture of a lady, whose face struck her with a sudden sense of recognition. She looked at it earnestly--the golden brown hair, the downcast eyes, the flowing white dress. Across the mind of that wondering girl, came the shadow of another woman upon a white bed, with hair and eyes like those; but wide open, and to her lips came two words, "My Mother!"

CHAPTER XXIII.

EXPLANATIONS AND CONCESSIONS.

It often happens that a proud, austere person, so grounded in opinions and prejudices as to be considered above and beyond ordinary influences, will all at once, give heart and reason up to pa.s.sionate or capricious fondness for some individual--often a very child--and yield everything to persuasion when reason is utterly rejected.

Indeed, few people like to be convinced; but the strongest mind ever bestowed on man or woman finds something gratifying to self-love in the persuasive enticements of affection.

This singular moral phenomenon astonished the neighbors and household of Lady Ca.r.s.et when she gave herself up, with the abandon of a child, to the caressing young creature, who had, it seemed, appeared in her home to win her back from the very brink of the grave, and make the sunset of her long life brighter with love than the dawn had been.

There was nothing in the young girl which did not seem beautiful to the old relative. Her originality, which made the well-trained servants stare, seemed the perfection of piquant grace to one whose fastidious tastes had been an example to the whole neighborhood. In her estimation Lady Clara could do nothing which was not in itself loveliest and best.

The old lady had been so long without an object of affection, that her love of this girl became almost a monomania.

"I have an atonement to make," she would say to herself in excuse for this extraordinary and most pleasant subjugation; "for years and years I have driven this young creature from me because of what, I am almost convinced, were unfounded suspicions against her father and that woman.

It is but just that I should accept my grandchild with generous confidence; and she deserves it--she deserves it."

After reasoning in this fas.h.i.+on awhile the repentant old lady would rack her brain for some new device by which this bright creature, who had come like a sunbeam into her house, might be persuaded never to leave it again. It was not altogether the selfishness of affection that actuated this honorable woman. It was hard to believe that a Ca.r.s.et could have acted unjustly, or even be mistaken; but, once convinced of that, her very pride insisted on a generous atonement. Never in her life had she been so humiliated as when the sight of those diamonds convinced her of the cruel charge which she had maintained for years against a person innocent of the offence imputed to her. She remembered, with compunction, how much harm she had done this woman, whose greatest fault now seemed to be that Lord Hope had married her.

Her own example had sufficed to exclude Lady Hope from the society to which her husband's rank ent.i.tled her, and her open expressions of dislike had cast a ban upon the stepmother, which had, to an extent, reacted on her own grandchild.

These thoughts troubled the proud old peeress a long time before she gave them expression; but, one day, Clara sat by her, looking a little sad, for, now that the excitement of her first coming was over, she began to think of Hepworth Closs--to wonder where he was, and yearn for some news of him to a degree that clouded her whole bright being like a feeling of homesickness.

"Poor child!" thought the old lady, while her soft, brown eyes dwelt upon that downcast face, as it bent over a piece of embroidery in which a cactus-flower formed the chief central glory; "how weary and troubled she looks! No wonder, poor thing! half her time is spent here with a stupid old woman, shut up so long from the world that she is but dull company for any one. I wonder if the thing which is upon my mind would really make her happy?"

"Clara."

The girl started. She had been so lost in thought that those bright eyes had been watching her some minutes, while she unconsciously pursued her work, and indulged in a reverie which was shadowed upon her features.

"Clara, you have not told me much about your stepmother."

"But I think of her; I was thinking of her then. Indeed, indeed, grandmamma, I always must love mamma Rachael, for she has been everything that is good and kind to me--I only wish you could understand how kind. If I know anything it is because she taught me."

"Among other things, perhaps she taught you to hate that cruel old Lady Ca.r.s.et," said the countess, a little suspiciously.

"No, grandmamma, no. She never said anything to make me dislike you; but I did--it was terribly wicked; but how could I help it, loving her so, and knowing that it was you that stood in the way of all she most desired in life? Remember, grandmamma, I had never seen you, and I loved her dearly. It was hard to see her overlooked and put down by people who were not fit to buckle her shoes, all because you would not like her."

"And you will always love her better than the cruel old lady?"

"Cruel! How can you? There never was a sweeter, kinder, or more lovely old darling in the world than you are! but then she is good, too, and so unhappy at times, it almost breaks my heart to look in her face."