A Rent In A Cloud. Lever Charles James
be something to which you can tag Berkeley Square, or Belgravia. In a word, a wife is a mistake, and, what is worse, a mistake out of which there is no issue.”
Thus reasoning and reflecting – now, speculating on what he should feel – now, imagining what “the world” would say – he again sat down, and once more read Over Mr. Walter’s last will and testament.
CHAPTER VI. SOPHY’S LETTER
IN something over a week the post brought two letters for the fellow-travellers. Loyd’s was from his mother – a very homely affair, full of affection and love, and overflowing with those little details of domestic matters so dear to those who live in the small world of home and its attachments.
Calvert’s was from his Cousin Sophy, much briefer, and very different in style. It ran thus:
“Dear Henry – ”
“I used to be Harry,” muttered he.
“Dear Henry, – It was not without surprise I saw yourhandwriting again. A letter from you is indeed an event atRocksley.“The Miss Grainger, if her name be Adelaide (for there weretwo sisters) was our nursery governess long ago. Cary liked,I hated her. She left us to take charge of some one’schildren – relatives of her own, I suspect – and though shemade some move about coming to see us, and presenting ‘hercharge,’ as she called it, there was no response to thesuggestion, and it dropped. I never heard more of her.“As to any hopes of assistance from papa, I can scarcelyspeak encouragingly. Indeed, he made no inquiry as to thecontents of your letter, and only remarked afterwards toCary that he trusted the correspondence was not to continue.
“Lastly, as to myself, I really am at a loss to see how mymarriage can be a subject of joy or grief, of pleasure orpain, to you. We are as much separated from each other inall the relations of life, as we shall soon be by long milesof distance. Mr. Wentworth Graham is fully aware of therelations which once subsisted between us, – he has evenread your letters – and it is at his instance I request thatthe tone of our former intimacy shall cease from this day, and that there may not again be any reference to the pastbetween us. I am sure in this I am merely anticipating whatyour own sense of honourable propriety would dictate, andthat I only express a sentiment your own judgment hasalready ratified.
“Believe me to be, very sincerely yours,
“Sophia Calvert.”
“Oh dear! When we were Sophy and Harry, the world went very differently from now, when it has come to Henry and Sophia. Not but she is right – right in everything but one. She ought not to have shown the letters. There was no need of it, and it was unfair! There is a roguery in it too, which, if I were Mr. Wentworth Graham, I’d not like. It is only your most accomplished sharper that ever plays ‘cartes sur table.’ I’d sorely suspect the woman who would conciliate the new love by a treachery to the old one. However, happily, this is his affair, not mine. Though I could make it mine, too, if I were so disposed, by simply reminding her that Mr. W. G. has only seen one half, and, by long odds, the least interesting half, of our correspondence, and that for the other he must address himself to me. Husbands have occasionally to learn that a small sealed packet of old letters would be a more acceptable present to the bride on her wedding morning than the prettiest trinket from the Rue de la Paix. Should like to throw this shell into the midst of the orange-flowers and the wedding favours, and I’d do it too, only that I could never accurately hear of the tumult and dismay it caused. I should be left to mere imagination for the mischief and imagination no longer satisfies me.”
While he thus mused, he saw Loyd preparing for one of his daily excursions with the photographic apparatus, and could not help a contemptuous pity for a fellow so easily amused and interested, and so easily diverted from the great business of life – which he deemed “getting on” – to a pastime which cost labour and returned no profit.
“Come and see ‘I Grangeri’ (the name by which the Italians designated the English family at the villa), it’s far better fun than hunting out rocky bits, or ruined fragments of masonry. Come, and I’ll promise you something prettier to look at than all your feathery ferns or drooping foxgloves.”
Loyd tried to excuse himself. He was always shy and timid with strangers. His bashfulness repelled intimacy and so he frankly owned that he would only be a bar to his friend’s happiness, and throw a cloud over this pleasant intercourse.
“How do you know but I’d like that?” said Calvert with a mocking laugh. “How do you know but I want the very force of a contrast to bring my own merits more conspicuously forward?”
“And make them declare when we went away, that it is inconceivable why Mr. Calvert should have made a companion of that tiresome Mr. Loyd – so low-spirited and so dreary, and so uninteresting in every way?”
“Just so! And that the whole thing has but one explanation – in Calvert’s kindness and generosity; who, seeing the helplessness of this poor depressed creature, has actually sacrificed himself to vivify and cheer him. As we hear of the healthy people suffering themselves to be bled that they might impart their vigorous heart’s blood to a poor wretch in the cholera.”
“But I’m not blue yet,” said Loyd laughing. “I almost think I could get on with my own resources.”
“Of course you might, in the fashion you do at present; but that is not life – or at least it is only the life of a vegetable. Mere existence and growth are not enough for a man who has hopes to fulfil, and passions to exercise, and desires to expand into accomplishments, not to speak of the influence that everyone likes to wield over his fellows. But, come along, jump into the boat, and see these girls! I want you; for there is one of them I scarcely understand as yet, and as I am always taken up with her sick sister, I’ve had no time to learn more about her.”
“Well,” said Loyd, “not to offer opposition to the notion of the tie that binds us, I consent.” And sending back to the cottage all the details of his pursuit, he accompanied Calvert to the lake.
“The invalid girl I shall leave to your attention, Loyd,” said the other, as he pulled across the water. “I like her the best; but I am in no fear of rivalry in that quarter, and I want to see what sort of stuff the other is made of. So, you understand, you are to devote yourself especially to Florence, taking care, when opportunity serves, to say all imaginable fine things about me – my talents, my energy, my good spirits, and so forth. I’m serious, old fellow, for I will own to you I mean to marry one of them, though which, I have not yet decided on.”
Loyd laughed heartily – far more heartily than in his quiet habit was his wont – and said, “Since when has this bright idea occurred to you?”
“I’ll tell you,” said the other gravely. “I have for years had a sort of hankering kind of half attachment to a cousin of mine. We used to quarrel, and make up, and quarrel again; but somehow, just as careless spendthrifts forget to destroy the old bill when they give a renewal, and at last find a swingeing sum hanging over them they had never dreamed of, Sophy and I never entirely cancelled our old scores, but kept them back to be demanded at some future time. And the end has been, a regular rupture between us, and she is going to be married at the end of this month, and, not to be outdone on the score of indifference, I should like to announce my own happiness, since that’s the word for it, first.”
“But have you means to marry?”
“Not a shilling.”
“Nor prospects?”
“None.”
“Then I don’t understand – ”
“Of course you don’t understand. Nor could I make you understand how fellows like myself play the game of life. But let me try by an illustration to enlighten you. When there’s no wind on a boat, and her sails flap lazily against the mast, she can have no guidance, for there is no steerage-way on her. She may drift with a current, or rot in a calm, or wait to be crushed by some heavier craft surging against her. Any wind – a squall, a hurricane – would be better than that. Such is my case. Marriage without means is a hurricane; but I’d rather face a hurricane than be water-logged between two winds.”
“But