Out in the Forty-Five Part 50

The next morning Caesar brought me a little three-cornered note. I guessed at once from whom it came, and eagerly tore it open.

"We arrived in London last night, my dear Caroline, and are very desirous of seeing you. Could you meet me at Mr Raymond's house this afternoon? Mr Hebblethwaite will be so good as to call for you, if you can come. Love from both to you and Hester. Your affectionate friend, A. K."

Come! I should think I would come! I only hoped Annas already knew of my share in the plot to rescue Angus. If not, what would she say to me?

I read the note again. "We"--who were "we"?--and "love from both."

Surely Flora must be with her! I kept wis.h.i.+ng--and I could not tell myself why--that Ephraim had less to do with it. I did not like his seeming to be thus at the beck and call of Annas; and I did not know why it vexed me. I must be growing selfish. That would never do! Why should Ephraim not do things for Annas? I was an older friend, it is true, but that was all. I had no more claim on him than any one else.

I recognised that clearly enough: yet I could not banish the feeling that I was sorry for it.

When Ephraim came, I thought he looked exceeding grave. I had told Grandmamma beforehand that Annas (and I thought Flora also) had returned to London, and asked me to go and see them, which I begged her leave to do. Grandmamma took a pinch of snuff over it, and then said that Caesar might call me a chair.

"Could I not walk, Grandmamma? It is very near."

"Walk!" cried Grandmamma, and looked at me much as if I had asked if I might not lie or steal. "My dear, you must not bring country ways to Town like that. Walk, indeed!--and you a Courtenay of Powderham! Why, people would take you for a mantua-maker."

"But, Grandmamma, please,--if I am a Courtenay, does it signify what people take me for?"

"I should like to know, Caroline," said Grandmamma, with severity, "where you picked up such levelling ideas? Why, they are Whiggery, and worse. I cannot bear these dreadful mob notions that creep about now o'

days. We shall soon be told that a king may as well sell his crown and sceptre, because he would be a king without them."

"He would not, Madam?" I am afraid I spoke mischievously.

"My dear, of course he would. Once a king, always a king. But the common people need to have symbols before their eyes. They cannot take in any but common notions of what they see. A monarch without a crown, or a judge without robes, or a bishop without lawn sleeves, would never do for them. Why, they would begin to think they were just men like themselves! They do think so, a great deal too much."

And Grandmamma took two pinches in rapid succession, which proceeding with her always betrays uneasiness of mind.

"Dear, dear!" she muttered, as she snapped her box again, and dropped it into her pocket. "It must be that lamentable mixture in your blood.

Whatever a Courtenay could be thinking of, to marry a Dissenter,--a Puritan minister's daughter, too,--he must have been mad! Yet she was of good blood on the mother's side."

I believe Grandmamma knows the pedigree of every creature in this mortal world, up to the seventh generation.

"Was that Deborah Hunter, Grandmamma?"

"What do you know about Deborah Hunter?" returned Grandmamma pulling out her snuff-box, and taking a third pinch in a hurry, as if the mere mention of a Dissenter made her feel faint. "Who has been talking to you about such a creature? The less you hear of her the better."

"Oh, we always knew her name, Madam," said Hatty, "and that she was a presbyter's daughter."

"Well, that is as much as you will know of her with my leave!" said Grandmamma.

I do not know what more she might have said, if my Uncle Charles had not come in: but he brought news that the Prince's army had been victorious at Falkirk, and the Cause is looking up again.

"They say the folks at Saint James's are very uneasy," said my Uncle Charles, "and the Elector's son is to be sent against the Prince with a larger army. I hear he set forth for Edinburgh last night."

"What, Fred?" said Grandmamma.

"Fred? No,--Will," [Note 1.] answered my Uncle Charles.

"That is the lad who was wounded at Dettingen?" replied she.

"The same," he made answer. "Oh, they are not without pluck, this family, foreigners though they be. The old blood is in them, though there's not much of it."

"They are a pack of rascals!" said Grandmamma, with another pinch. I thought the box would soon be empty if she were much more provoked.

"Nay, Madam, under your pleasure: the lad is great-grandson to the Queen of Bohemia, and she was without reproach. I would rather have Fred or Will than Oliver."

Grandmamma sat extreme upright, and spoke in those measured tones, and with that nice politeness, which showed that she was excessively put out.

"May I trouble you, Charles, if you please, never to name that--person-- in my hearing again!"

"Certainly, Madam," said my Uncle Charles, with a naughty look at me which nearly upset my gravity. If I had dared to laugh, I do not know what would have happened to me.

"The age is quite levelling enough, and the scoundrels quite numerous enough, without your joining them, Mr Charles Carlingford Desborough!"

Saying which, Grandmamma arose, and as Hatty said afterwards, "swept from the room"--my Uncle Charles offering her his arm, and a.s.suring her, with a most disconcerting look over his shoulder at us, that he would do his very best to mend his manners.

"Your manners are good enough, Sir," said Grandmamma severely: "'tis your morals I wish to mend."

When we thought Grandmamma out of hearing, we did laugh: and my Uncle Charles, coming down, joined us,--which I am afraid neither he nor we ought to have done.

"My mother's infinitely put out," said he. "Her snuff-box is empty: and she never gave me my full name but twice before, that I remember. When I am Charles Desborough, she is not pleased; when I am Mr Charles Desborough, she is gravely annoyed; but when I become Mr Charles Carlingford Desborough, matters are desperate indeed. I shall have to go to the cost of a new snuff-box, I expect, before I get forgiven. Yet I have no doubt Oliver was a pretty decent fellow--putting his politics on one side."

"I am afraid, Uncle Charles," said Hatty, "a snuff-box would hardly make your peace for that."

"Oh, that's for you maids, not for her. She is not a good forgiver,"

said my Uncle Charles, more gravely. "She takes after her mother, my Lady Sophia. Don't I remember my Lady Sophia!"

And I should say, from the expression of my Uncle Charles's face, that his recollections of my Lady Sophia Carlingford were not among the pleasantest he had.

Hatty is growing much more like herself, with the pertness left out.

She looks a great deal better, and can smile and laugh now; but her old sharp, bright ways are gone, and only show now and then, in a little flash, what she was once.

The Crosslands have disappeared--n.o.body knows where. But I do not think Miss Marianne Newton has broken her heart; indeed, I am not quite sure that she has one.

In the afternoon, Ephraim came, and I went in a chair under his escort to Mr Raymond's house. Hatty declined to come; she seemed to have a dislike to go out of doors, further than just to take the air in the square, with Dobson behind her. I should not like that at all. It would make me feel as if the constable had me in custody. But Grandmamma insists on it; and Hatty does not seem to feel safe without somebody.

In Mr Raymond's parlour, I found Annas and Flora, alone. I do not know what to say they looked like. Both are white and worn, as if a great strain had been on their hearts: but Flora is much the more broken-down of the two. Annas is more queenly than ever, with a strange, far-away look in the dear grey eyes, that I can hardly bear to see. I ran up to her first thing.

"O Annas, tell me!" I cried, amidst my kisses, "tell me, did I do right or wrong?"

I felt sure she would need no explanation.

"You did right, Cary,"--and the dark grey eyes looked full into mine.

"Who are we, to refuse our best to the Master when He calls? But it is hard, hard to bear it!"

"Is there _any_ hope of escape?" I asked.

"There is always hope where G.o.d is," said Annas. "But it is not always hope for earth."