Tales from Blackwood Volume V Part 26

"One day that Lord James dozed and Lady Mary was engrossed with embroidery, little Harry climbed upon my knee, as I sat apart at the farther end of the room, and began to question me with the artless curiosity of his age. In my turn, and without reflecting on what I said, I questioned him concerning his family.

"'Have you any brothers or sisters?' I inquired.

"'I have a very pretty little sister.'

"'What is her name?' asked I, absently, glancing at the newspaper in my hand.

"'She has a beautiful name. Guess it, Doctor.'

"I know not what I was thinking about. In my village I had heard none but the names of peasants, hardly applicable to Lady Mary's daughter.

Mrs Meredith was the only lady I had known, and the child repeating, 'Guess, guess!' I replied at random,

"'Eva, perhaps?'

"We were speaking very low; but when the name of Eva escaped my lips, Lord James opened his eyes quickly, and raised himself in his chair, Lady Mary dropped her needle and turned sharply towards me. I was confounded at the effect I had produced; I looked alternately at Lord James and at Lady Mary, without daring to utter another word. Some minutes pa.s.sed: Lord James again let his head fall back and closed his eyes, Lady Mary resumed her needle, Harry and I ceased our conversation.

I reflected for some time upon this strange incident, until at last, all around me having sunk into the usual monotonous calm, I rose to leave the room. Lady Mary pushed away her embroidery frame, pa.s.sed before me, and made me a sign to follow. When we were both in another room she shut the door, and raising her head, with the imperious air which was the most habitual expression of her features: 'Dr Barnaby,' said she, 'be so good as never again to p.r.o.nounce the name that just now escaped your lips. It is a name Lord James Kysington must not hear.' She bowed slightly, and re-entered her brother-in-law's apartment.

"Thoughts innumerable crowded upon my mind. This Eva, whose name was not to be spoken, could it be Eva Meredith? Was she Lord Kysington's daughter-in-law? Was I in the house of William's father? I hoped, but still I doubted; for, after all, if there was but one Eva in the world for me, in England the name was, doubtless, by no means uncommon. But the thought that I was perhaps with the family of Eva Meredith, living with the woman who robbed the widow and the orphan of their inheritance, this thought was present to me by day and by night. In my dreams I beheld the return of Eva and her son to the paternal residence, in consequence of the pardon I had implored and obtained for them. But when I raised my eyes, the cold impa.s.sible physiognomy of Lord Kysington froze all the hopes of my heart. I applied myself to the examination of that countenance as if I had never before seen it; I a.n.a.lysed its features and lines to find a trace of sensibility. I sought the heart I so gladly would have touched. Alas! I found it not. But I had so good a cause that I was not to be discouraged. 'Pshaw!' I said to myself, 'what matters the expression of the face? why heed the external envelope? May not the darkest coffer contain bright gold? Must all that is within us reveal itself at a glance? Does not every man of the world learn to separate his mind and his thoughts from the habitual expression of his countenance?'

"I resolved to clear up my doubts, but how to do so was the difficulty.

Impossible to question Lady Mary or Lord James; the servants were French, and had but lately come to the house. An English valet-de-chambre had just been despatched to London on a confidential mission. I directed my investigations to Lord James Kysington. The severe expression of his countenance ceased to intimidate me. I said to myself, 'When the forester meets with a tree apparently dead, he strikes his axe into the trunk to see whether sap does not still survive beneath the withered bark; in like manner will I strike at the heart, and see whether life be not somewhere hidden.' And I only waited an opportunity.

"To await an opportunity with impatience is to accelerate its coming.

Instead of depending on circ.u.mstances we subjugate them. One night Lord James sent for me. He was in pain. After administering the necessary remedies, I remained by his bedside, to watch their effect. The room was dark; a single wax candle showed the outline of objects, without illuminating them. The pale and n.o.ble head of Lord James was thrown back upon his pillow. His eyes were shut, according to his custom when suffering, as if he concentrated his moral energies within him. He never complained, but lay stretched out in his bed, straight and motionless as a king's statue upon a marble tomb. In general he got somebody to read to him, hoping either to distract his thoughts from his pains, or to be lulled to sleep by the monotonous sound.

"Upon that night he made sign to me with his meagre hand to take a book and read, but I sought one in vain; books and newspapers had all been removed to the drawing-room; the doors were locked, and unless I rang and aroused the house, a book was not to be had. Lord James made a gesture of impatience, then one of resignation, and beckoned me to resume my seat by his side. We remained for some time without speaking, almost in darkness, the silence broken only by the ticking of the clock.

Sleep came not. Suddenly Lord James opened his eyes.

"'Speak to me,' he said. 'Tell me something; whatever you like.'

"His eyes closed, and he waited. My heart beat violently. The moment had come.

"'My lord,' said I, 'I greatly fear I know nothing that will interest your lords.h.i.+p. I can speak but of myself, of the events of my life,--and the history of the great ones of the earth were necessary to fix your attention. What can a peasant have to say, who has lived contented with little, in obscurity and repose? I have scarcely quitted my village, my lord. It is a pretty mountain hamlet, where even those not born there might well be pleased to dwell. Near it is a country house, which I have known inhabited by rich people, who could have left it if they liked, but who remained, because the woods were thick, the paths bordered with flowers, the streams bright and rapid in their rocky beds. Alas! they were two in that house--and soon a poor woman was there alone, until the birth of her son. My lord, she is a countrywoman of yours, an Englishwoman, of beauty such as is seldom seen either in England or in France; good as, besides her, only the angels in heaven can be! She had just completed her eighteenth year when I left her, fatherless, motherless, and already widowed of an adored husband; she is feeble, delicate, almost ill, and yet she must live;--who would protect that little child? Oh! my lord, there are very unhappy beings in this world!

To be unhappy in middle life or old age is doubtless sad, but still you have pleasant memories of the past to remind you that you have had your day, your share, your happiness; but to weep before you are eighteen is far sadder, for nothing can bring back the dead, and the future is dim with tears. Poor creature! We see a beggar by the road-side suffering from cold and hunger, and we give him alms, and look upon him without pain, because it is in our power to relieve him; but this unhappy, broken-hearted woman, the only relief to give her would be to love her--and none are there to bestow that alms upon her!

"'Ah! my lord, if you knew what a fine young man her husband was!--hardly three-and-twenty; a n.o.ble countenance, a lofty brow--like your own, intelligent and proud; dark-blue eyes, rather pensive, rather sad. I knew why they were sad. He loved his father and his native land, and he was doomed to exile from both! And how good and graceful was his smile! Ah! how he would have smiled at his little child, had he lived long enough to see it. He loved it even before it was born: he took pleasure in looking at the cradle that awaited it. Poor, poor young man!--I saw him on a stormy night, in the dark forest, stretched upon the wet earth, motionless, lifeless, his garments covered with mud, his temples shattered, blood escaping in torrents from his wound. I saw--alas! I saw William--'

"'You saw my son's death!' cried Lord James, raising himself like a spectre in the midst of his pillows, and fixing me with eyes so distended and piercing, that I started back alarmed. But notwithstanding the darkness, I thought I saw a tear moisten the old man's eyelids.

"'My lord,' I replied, 'I was present at your son's death, and at the birth of his child!'

"There was an instant's silence. Lord James looked steadfastly at me. At last he made a movement; his trembling hand sought mine, pressed it, then his fingers relaxed their grasp, and he fell back upon the bed.

"'Enough sir, enough; I suffer, I need repose. Leave me.'

"I bowed, and retired.

"Before I was out of the room, Lord James had relapsed into his habitual position; into silence and immobility.

"I will not detail to you my numerous and respectful representations to Lord James Kysington, his indecision and secret anxiety, and how at last his paternal love, awakened by the details of the horrible catastrophe, his pride of race, revived by the hope of leaving an heir to his name, triumphed over his bitter resentment. Three months after the scene I have described, I awaited, on the threshold of the house at Montpellier, the arrival of Eva Meredith and her son, summoned to their family and to the resumption of all their rights. It was a proud and happy day for me.

"Lady Mary, perfect mistress of herself, had concealed her joy when family dissensions had made her son heir to her wealthy brother. Still better did she conceal her regret and anger when Eva Meredith, or rather Eva Kysington, was reconciled with her father-in-law. Not a cloud appeared upon Lady Mary's marble forehead. But beneath this external calm how many evil pa.s.sions fermented!

"When the carriage of Eva Meredith (I will still give her that name) entered the courtyard of the house, I was there to receive her. Eva held out her hand--'Thanks, thanks, my friend!' she murmured. She wiped the tears that trembled in her eyes, and taking her boy, now three years old, and of great beauty, by the hand, she entered her new abode. 'I am afraid,' she said. She was still the weak woman, broken by affliction, pale, sad, and beautiful, incredulous of earthly hopes, but firm in heavenly faith. I walked by her side; and as she ascended the steps, her gentle countenance bedewed with tears, her slender and feeble form inclined towards the bal.u.s.trade, her extended arm a.s.sisting the child, who walked still more slowly than herself, Lady Mary and her son appeared at the door. Lady Mary wore a brown velvet dress, rich bracelets encircled her arms, a slender gold chain bound her brow, which in truth was of those on which a diadem sits well. She advanced with an a.s.sured step, her head high, her glance full of pride. Such was the first meeting of the two mothers.

"'You are welcome, madam,' said Lady Mary, bowing to Eva Meredith.

"Eva tried to smile, and answered by a few affectionate words. How could she forbode hatred, she who only knew love? We proceeded to Lord James's room. Mrs Meredith, scarcely able to support herself, entered first, took a few steps, and knelt beside her father-in-law's arm-chair. Taking her child in her arms, she placed him on Lord James Kysington's knee.

"'His son!' she said. Then the poor woman wept and was silent.

"Long did Lord James gaze upon the child. As he gradually recognised the features of the son he had lost, his eyes became moist, and their expression affectionate. There came a moment when, forgetting his age, lapse of time, and past misfortune, he dreamed himself back to the happy day when he first pressed his infant son to his heart. 'William, William!' he murmured. 'My daughter!' added he, extending his hand to Eva Meredith.

"My eyes filled with tears. Eva had a family, a protector, a fortune. I was happy; doubtless that was why I wept.

"The child remained quiet upon his grandfather's knees, and showed neither pleasure nor fear.

"'Will you love me?' said the old man.

"The child raised its head, but did not answer.

"'Do you hear? I will be your father.'

"'I will be your father,' the child gently repeated.

"'Excuse him,' said his mother; 'he has always been alone. He is very young; the presence of many persons intimidates him. By-and-by, my lord, he will better understand your kind words.'

"But I looked at the child; I examined him in silence; I recalled my former gloomy apprehensions. Alas! those apprehensions now became a certainty; the terrible shock experienced by Eva Meredith during her pregnancy had had fatal consequences for her child, and a mother only, in her youth, her love, and her inexperience, could have remained so long ignorant of her misfortune.

"At the same time with myself Lady Mary looked at the child. I shall never forget the expression of her countenance. She stood erect, and the piercing gaze she fixed upon little William seemed to read his very soul. As she gazed, her eyes sparkled, her mouth was half-opened as by a smile--she breathed short and thick, like one oppressed by great and sudden joy. She looked, looked--hope, doubt, expectation, replaced each other on her face. At last her hatred was clear-sighted, an internal cry of triumph burst from her heart, but was checked ere it reached her lips. She drew herself up, let fall a disdainful glance upon Eva, her vanquished enemy, and resumed her usual calm.

"Lord James, fatigued by the emotions of the day, dismissed us, and remained alone all the evening.

"Upon the morrow, after an agitated night, when I entered Lord James's room, all the family were already a.s.sembled around him, and Lady Mary had little William on her knees: it was the tiger clutching its prey.

"'What a beautiful child!' she said. 'See, my lord, these fair and silken locks! how brilliant they are in the suns.h.i.+ne! But, dear Eva, is your son always so silent? does he never exhibit the vivacity and gaiety of his age?'

"'He is always sad,' replied Mrs Meredith. 'Alas! with me he could hardly learn to laugh.'

"'We will try to amuse and cheer him,' said Lady Mary. 'Come, my dear child, kiss your grandfather! hold out your arms, and tell him you love him.'

"William did not stir.

"'Do you not know how? Harry, my love, kiss your uncle, and set your cousin a good example.'

"Harry jumped upon Lord James's knees, threw both arms round his neck, and said, 'I love you, dear uncle!'

"'Now it is your turn, my dear William,' said Lady Mary.