Sir Brook Fossbrooke, Volume I.. Lever Charles James
said I, almost trembling with anxiety.
“‘Such separations are bearable,’ added he, ‘when it is duty dictates them, not disobedience.’
“He fixed his eyes sternly on me, and I trembled as I thought that the long score of years was at last come to the reckoning. He did not dwell on the theme, however, but in a tone of much gentler meaning, went on: ‘It will be an act of mercy to let me see a loving face, to hear a tender voice. Your boy would be too rough for me.’
“‘You would like him, sir. He is thoroughly truthful and honest.’
“‘So he may, and yet be self-willed, be noisy, be over-redolent of that youth which age resents like outrage. Give me the girl, Tom; let her come here, and bestow some of those loving graces on the last hours of my life her looks show she should be rich in. For your sake she will be kind to me. Who knows what charm there may be in gentleness, even to a tiger-nature like mine? Ask her, at least, if she will make the sacrifice.’
“I knew not what to answer. If I could not endure the thought of parting from Lucy, yet it seemed equally impossible to refuse his entreaty, – old, friendless, and deserted as he was. I felt, besides, that my only hope of a real reconciliation with him lay through this road; deny him this, and it was clear he would never see me more. He said, too, it should only be for a season. I was to see how the place, the climate, suited for a residence. In a word, every possible argument to reconcile me to the project rushed to my mind, and I at last said, ‘Lucy shall decide, sir. I will set out for home at once, and you shall have her own answer.’
“‘Uninfluenced, sir,’ cried he, – ‘mind that. If influence were to be used, I could perhaps tell her what might decide her at once; but I would not that pity should plead for me, till she should have seen if I be worth compassion! There is but one argument I will permit in my favor, – tell her that her picture has been my pleasantest companion these three long days. There it lies, always before me. Go now, and let me hear from you as soon as may be.’ I arose, but somehow my agitation, do what I would, mastered me. It was so long since we had met! All the sorrows the long estrangement had cost me came to my mind, together with little touches of his kindness in long-past years, and I could not speak. ‘Poor Tom! poor Tom!’ said he, drawing me towards him; and he kissed me.”
As Lendrick said this, emotion overcame him, and he covered his face with his hands, and sobbed bitterly. More than a mile of road was traversed before a word passed between them. “There they are, doctor! There ‘s Tom, there’s Lucy! They are coming to meet me,” cried he. “Good-bye, doctor; you ‘ll forgive me, I know, – goodbye;” and he sprang off the car as he spoke, while the vicar, respecting the sacredness of the joy, wheeled his horse round, and drove back towards the town.
CHAPTER XI. CAVE CONSULTS SIR BROOK
A few minutes after the Adjutant had informed Colonel Cave that Lieutenant Traflford had reported himself, Sir Brook entered the Colonel’s quarters, eager to know what was the reason of the sudden recall of Traflford, and whether the regiment had been unexpectedly ordered for foreign service.
“No, no,” said Cave, in some confusion. “We have had our turn of India and the Cape; they can’t send us away again for some time. It was purely personal; it was, I may say, a private reason. You know,” added he, with a slight smile, “I am acting as a sort of guardian to Trafford just now. His family sent him over to me, as to a reformatory.”
“From everything I have seen of him, your office will be an easy one.”
“Well, I suspect that, so far as mere wildness goes, – extravagance and that sort of thing, – he has had enough of it; but there are mistakes that a young fellow may make in life – mistakes in judgment – which will damage him more irreparably than all his derelictions against morality.”
“That I deny, – totally, entirely deny. I know what you mean, – that is, I think I know what you mean; and if I guess aright, I am distinctly at issue with you on this matter.”
“Perhaps I could convince you, notwithstanding. Here’s a letter which I have no right to show you; it is marked ‘Strictly confidential and private.’ You shall read it, – nay, you must read it, – because you are exactly the man to be able to give advice on the matter. You like Traflford, and wish him well. Read that over carefully, and tell me what you would counsel.”
Fossbrooke took out his spectacles, and, having seated himself comfortably, with his back to the light, began in leisurely fashion to peruse the letter. “It’s his mother who writes,” said he, turning to the signature, – “one of the most worldly women I ever met. She was a Lascelles. Don’t you know how she married Trafford?”
“I don’t remember, if I ever heard.”
“It was her sister that Trafford wanted to marry, but she was ambitious to be a peeress; and as Bradbrook was in love with her, she told Sir Hugh, ‘I have got a sister so like me nobody can distinguish between us. She ‘d make an excellent wife for you. She rides far better than me, and she is n’t half so extravagant. I ‘ll send for her.’ She did so, and the whole thing was settled in a week.”
“They have lived very happily together.”
“Of course they have. They didn’t ‘go in,’ as the speculators say, for enormous profits; they realized very fairly, and were satisfied. I wish her handwriting had been more cared for. What’s this she says here about a subscription?”
“That ‘s supervision, – the supervision of a parent.”
“Supervision of a fiddlestick! the fellow is six feet one inch high, and seven-and-twenty years of age; he’s quite beyond supervision. Ah! brought back all his father’s gout, has he? When will people begin to admit that their own tempers have something to say to their maladies? I curse the cook who made the mulligatawny, but I forget that I ate two platefuls of it. So it’s the doctor’s daughter she objects to. I wish she saw her. I wish you saw her, Cave. You are an old frequenter of courts and drawing-rooms. I tell you you have seen nothing like this doctor’s daughter since Laura Bedingfield was presented, and that was before your day.”
“Every one has heard of the Beauty Bedingfield; but she was my mother’s contemporary.”
“Well, sir, her successors have not eclipsed her! This doctor’s daughter, as your correspondent calls her, is the only rival of her that I have ever seen. As to wit and accomplishments, Laura could not compete with Lucy Lendrick.”
“You know her, then?” asked the Colonel; and then added, “Tell me something about the family.”
“With your leave, I will finish this letter first. Ah! here we have the whole secret. Lionel Trafford is likely to be that precious prize, an eldest son. Who could have thought that the law of entail could sway a mother’s affections? ‘Contract no ties inconsistent with his station.’ This begins to be intolerable, Cave. I don’t think I can go on.”
“Yes, yes; read it through.”
“She asks you if you know any one who knows these Hendrichs or Lendrichs; tell her that you do; tell her that your friend is one of those men who have seen a good deal of life, heard more, too, than he has seen. She will understand that, and that his name is Sir Brook Fossbrooke, who, if needed, will think nothing of a journey over to Lincolnshire to afford her all the information she could wish for. Say this, Cave, and take my word for it, she will put very few more questions to you.”
“That would be to avow I had already consulted with you. No, no; I must not do that.”
“The wind-up of the epistle is charming. ‘I have certainly no reason to love Ireland.’ Poor Ireland! here is another infliction upon you. Let us hope you may never come to know that Lady Trafford cannot love you.”
“Come, come, Fossbrooke, be just, be fair; there is nothing so very unreasonable in the anxiety of a mother that her son, who will have a good name and a large estate, should not share them both with a person beneath him.”
“Why must she assume that this is the case, – why take it for granted that this