Clara Vaughan, Volume 1 (of 3) Page 6

  CHAPTER VI.

  To no one, not even to Thomas Kenwood (in whom I confided most), did Iimpart the discovery just described. Again and again I went to examinethose letters, jealous at once of my secret, and fearful lest theyshould vanish. But though they remained perhaps unaltered, they neverappeared so vivid as on that day.

  With keener interest I began once more to track, from page to page, fromvolume to volume, the chronicled steps of limping but sure-footedjustice.

  Not long after this I was provided with a companion. "Clara," said myguardian one day at breakfast, "you live too much alone. Have you anyfriends in the neighbourhood?"

  "None in the world, except my mother."

  "Well, I must try to survive the exclusion. I have done my best. Butyour mother has succeeded in finding a colleague. There's a cousin ofyours coming here very soon."

  "Mother dear," I cried in some surprise, "you never told me that you hadany nieces."

  "Neither have I, my darling," she replied, "nor any nephews either; butyour uncle has; and I hope you will like your visitor."

  "Now remember, Clara," resumed my guardian, "it is no wish of mine thatyou should do so. To me it is a matter of perfect indifference; butyour mother and myself agreed that a little society would do you good."

  "When is she to come?" I asked, in high displeasure that no one hadconsulted me.

  "He is likely to be here to-morrow."

  "Oh," I exclaimed, "the plot is to humanize me through a younggentleman, is it? And how long is he to stay in my house?"

  "In your house! I suppose that will depend upon your mother's wishes."

  "More likely upon yours," I cried; "but it matters little to me."

  He said nothing, but looked displeased; my mother doing the same, I wassilent, and the subject dropped. But of course I saw that he wished meto like his new importation, while he dissembled the wish from knowledgeof my character.

  Two years after my father's birth, his father had married again. Of thesecond wedlock the only offspring was my guardian, Edgar Vaughan. Hewas a posthumous son, and his mother in turn contracted a secondmarriage. Her new husband was one Stephen Daldy, a merchant of somewealth. By him she left one son, named Lawrence, and several daughters.This Lawrence Daldy, my guardian's half-brother, proved a spendthrift,and, while scattering the old merchant's treasure married a fashionableadventuress. As might be expected, no retrenchment ensued, and he diedin poverty, leaving an only child.

  This boy, Clement Daldy, was of my own age, or thereabout, and, inpursuance of my guardian's plan, was to live henceforth with us.

  He arrived under the wing of his mother, and his character consisted inthe absence of any. If he had any quality at all by which one couldknow him from a doll, it was perhaps vanity; and if his vanity wassingular enough to have any foundation, it could be only in his goodlooks. He was, I believe, as pretty a youth as ever talked withoutmind, or smiled without meaning. Need it be said that I despised him atonce unfathomably?

  His mother was of a very different order. Long-enduring, astute, andplausible, with truth no more than the pith of a straw, she addedthereto an imperious spirit, embodied just now in an odious meekness.Whatever she said or did, in her large contempt of the world, herlady-abbess walk, and the chastened droop of her brilliant eyes, sheconveyed through it all the impression of her humble superiority.Though profoundly convinced that all is vanity, she was reluctant toforce this conviction on minds of a narrower scope, and dissembled withconscious grace her knowledge of human nature.

  To a blunt, outspoken child, what could be more disgusting? But whenupon this was assumed an air of deep pity for my ignorance, and interestin my littleness, it became no longer bearable.

  This Christian Jezebel nearly succeeded in estranging my mother from me.The latter felt all that kindness towards her which people of truereligion, when over-charitable, conceive towards all who hoist andsalute the holy flag. Our sweet pirate knew well how to make the mostof this.

  For myself, though I felt that a hypocrite is below the level of hate, Icould not keep my composure when with affectionate blandness our visitordared to "discharge her sacred duty of impressing on me the guilt ofharbouring thoughts of revenge." Of course, she did not attempt it inthe presence of my mother; but my guardian was there, and doubtless knewher intention.

  It was on a Sunday after the service, and she had stayed for thesacrament.

  "My sweet child," she began, "you will excuse what I am about to say, asI only speak for your good, and from a humble sense that it is the pathof duty. It has pleased God, in His infinite wisdom, to afflict yourdear mother with a melancholy so sensitive, that she cannot bear anyallusion to your deeply-lamented father. You have therefore no femaleguidance upon a subject which justly occupies so much of your thoughts.Your uncle Edgar, in his true affection for you, has thought it rightthat you should associate more with persons calculated to develop yourmind."

  Now I hate that word "develop;" and I felt my passion rising, but lether go on:--

  "Under these circumstances, it grieves me deeply, my poor dear child, tofind you still display a perversity, and a wilful neglect of the blessedmeans of grace, which must (humanly speaking) draw down a judgment uponyou. Now, open your heart to me, the whole of your little unregenerateheart, you mysterious but (I firmly believe) not ill-disposed lambkin.Tell me all your thoughts, your broodings, your dreams--in fact, yourentire experiences. Uncle Edgar will leave the room, if you wish it."

  "Certainly not," I said.

  "Quite right, my dear; have no secrets from one who has been your secondfather. Now tell me all your little troubles. Make me yourmother-confessor. I take the deepest interest in you. True, I am onlya weak and sinful woman, but my chastisements have worked together formy edification, and God has been graciously pleased to grant me peace ofmind."

  "You don't look as if you had much," I cried.

  Her large eyes flashed a quick start from their depths, like the stir ofa newly-fathomed sea. My guardian's face gleamed with a smile of slyamusement. Recovering at once her calm objective superiority, sheproceeded:

  "I have been troubled and chastened severely, but now I perceive that itwas all for the best. But perhaps it is not very graceful to remind meof that. Yet, since all my trials have worked together for my good, onthat account I am, under Providence, better qualified to advise you, inyour dark and perilous state. I have seen much of what thoughtlesspeople call 'life.' But in helping you, I wish to proceed on higherprinciples than those of the world. You possess, beyond question, astrong and resolute will, but in your present benighted course it canlead only to misery. Now, what is the principal aim of your life, mylove?"

  "The death of my father's murderer."

  "Exactly so. My unhappy child, I knew it too well. Though a dark sin isyour leading star, I feel too painfully my own shortcomings, and oldunregenerate tendencies, to refuse you my carnal sympathy. You know myfeelings, Edgar."

  "Indeed, Eleanor," replied my guardian, with an impenetrable smile, "howshould I? You have always been such a model of every virtue."

  She gave him a glance, and again addressed me. "Now suppose, ClaraVaughan, that, after years of brooding and lonely anguish, you obtainyour revenge at last, who will be any the better for it?"

  "My father and I."

  "Your father indeed! How you wrong his sweet and most forgivingnature!"

  This was the first thing she had said that touched me; and that becauseI had often thought of it before. But I would not let her see it.

  "Though his nature were an angel's," I cried, "as I believe it was,never could he forgive that being who tore him from me and my mother. Iknow that he watches me now, and must be cold and a wanderer, until Ihave done my duty to him and myself."

  "You awful child. Why, you'll frighten us all. But you make it themore my duty. Come with me now, and let me inculcate the doctrines of ahigher and holier style."

  "Th
ank you, Mrs. Daldy, I want no teaching, except my mother's."

  "You are too wilful and headstrong for her. Come to me, my poor straylamb."

  "I would sooner go to a butcher, Mrs. Daldy."

  "Is it possible? Are you so lost to all sense of right?"

  "Yes, if you are right," I replied; and left the room.

  Thenceforth she pursued tactics of another kind. She tried me withflattery and fictitious confidence, likely from a woman of her maturityto win a young girl, by inflating self-esteem: she even feigned a warminterest in my search, and wished to partake in my readings and secretmusings. Indeed, I could seldom escape her. I am ready to own that, byher suggestions and quick apprehension, she gained some ascendancy overme, but not a tenth part of what she thought she had won; and I stillcontinued to long for her departure. Of this, however, no symptomappeared: she made herself quite at home, and did her best to becomeindispensable to my mother.

  Clement Daldy had full opportunity to commend himself to my favour. Wewere constantly thrown together, in the presence of his mother, and theabsence of mine. For a long time, I was too young, and too muchengrossed by the object for which I lived, to have any inkling of theirscheme; but suddenly a suspicion broke upon me. My guardian and hissister-in-law had formed, as I thought, a deliberate plot for marryingme, when old enough, to that tailor's block. The one had been so longaccustomed to the lordship of the property, to some county influence,and great command of money, that it was not likely he would forego thewhole without a struggle. But he knew quite well that the moment Ishould be of age I would dispense with his wardship, and even with hisresidence there, and devote all I had to the pursuit of my "monomania."All his endeavours to make me his thrall had failed, partly from mysuspicions, partly from a repugnance which could not be conquered. Ofcourse, I intended to give him an ample return for his stewardship,which had been wise and unwearying. But this was not what he wanted.The motives of his accomplice require no explanation. If once this neatlittle scheme should succeed, I must remain in their hands, Clementbeing nobody, until they should happen to quarrel for me.

  To show what Clement Daldy was, a brief anecdote is enough. When wewere about sixteen years old, we sat in the park one morning, at thecorner of the lake; Clement's little curled spaniel, which he loved asmuch as he could love anything, was gambolling round us. As the boylounged along, half asleep, on the rustic chair, with his silky faceshaded by a broad hat, and his bright curls glistening like daffodilsplaying, I thought what a pretty peep-show he made, and wondered whetherhe could anyhow be the owner of a soul.

  "Oh, Clara," he lisped, as he chanced to look up--"Couthin Clara, I wishyou wouldn't look at me tho."

  "And did it look fierce at its dolly?" I said; for I was alwaysgood-natured to him. "Dolly knows I wouldn't hurt it, for it's housefull of sugar-plums."

  "Then do let me go to thleep; you are such a howwid girl."

  So I hushed him off with a cradle song. But before the long lashes sunkflat on his cheeks, like the ermine tips on my muff, and while his redlips yet trembled like cherries in the wind, my attention was suddenlydrawn to the lake. There was a plashing, and barking, and hissing, andnapping of snow-white wings--poor Juan engaged in unequal combat withtwo fierce swans who had a nest on the island. The poor little dog,though he fought most gallantly, was soon driven into deep water, andthe swans kept knocking him under with rapid and powerful strokes.Seeing him almost drowned, I called Clement to save him at once.

  "I can't," said the brave youth; "you go if you like. They'll kill me,and I can't bear it; and the water ith tho cold."

  In a moment I pushed off the boat which was near, jumped into it, and,seizing an oar, contrived to beat back the swans, and lifted the poorlittle dog on board, gasping, half-drowned, and woefully beaten.Meanwhile my lord elect had leaped on the seat for safety, and waswringing his white little hands, and dancing and crying, "Oh, Clara'llbe throwned, and they'll say it was me. Oh, what thall I do! what thallI do!"

  Even when I brought him his little pet safe, he would not touch him,because he was wet; so I laid him full on his lap.